Monicapelser - Welcome, Honoured Guests. - Tumblr Blog

Wait, you were actually born in the 1900's? Thats so cool

i am going to eat my own entire skin

what doesn't kill you makes you stay on tumblr for 13 years and counting

kinda sick of all those posts that are like "my ancestors were surviving starvation and the plague meanwhile i get nervous ordering food at restaurants". as if jauffrey the woodworker didn't fumble his conversation with the fine maiden running the fruit stand and then tripped on a pebble as he left in a hurry

Gay people are like "he saved my life" and it's Gellert Grindelwald saying "It's what we said we'd do.--committed. To me. To us. Yes. But that's not why you went along. It was you who said we could reshape the world, that it was our birthright."

“Mycroft”

Had an epiphany and needed to get this finished. The Winnie the PoohXSherlock Holmes Universe expands.

Sherlock Holmes modern adaptation but the main characters (Sherlock, Watson, Mrs. Hudson, Irene Adler, and maybe even Lestrade) are all vampires and they’ve just been doing their thing since the time period of the original books

Irene gets to be from New Jersey like she is in canon and she’ll occasionally show up and help Sherlock with a case but they don’t ever date or hook up or anything

Just saw an adult man growl at a qr code on the wall

Please help, I'm looking for a good, detailed character design/analysis template. Not one that just asks for a name, gender and colouring... Preferably printable.

Happy May 4th, Everyone! No faked deaths today sorry

I always find it hilarious when more recent adaptations of Sherlock Holmes makes Holmes the dreamy heartthrob/attractive one (not that he’s not a total catch) because my dudes, Watson is right there. He is literally like a Victorian wet dream, he is everything that classic Victorian period would find appealing- adventurous, fought for his country, learned, has groomed facial hair (legit that was like the equivalent of being 6’ tall today), polite. He’s got just enough “melancholy” (depression) and rakishness (gambling) to still be a gentleman but like a bad boy gentleman. A real Romantic (both romance how we think of it today and like Romanticism) archetype. If anyone is the heartthrob here, it is Watson.

I get my media recommendations the old fashioned way: by watching someone I follow on here go on an unhinged reblog spree of media related content until I eventually decide to go "alright, what's all this then"

All of them, probably🤣

Reigate Squires/Puzzle poll

When Watson says "a little diplomacy was needed," to get Holmes to agree to go on vacation

I always find it hilarious when more recent adaptations of Sherlock Holmes makes Holmes the dreamy heartthrob/attractive one (not that he’s not a total catch) because my dudes, Watson is right there. He is literally like a Victorian wet dream, he is everything that classic Victorian period would find appealing- adventurous, fought for his country, learned, has groomed facial hair (legit that was like the equivalent of being 6’ tall today), polite. He’s got just enough “melancholy” (depression) and rakishness (gambling) to still be a gentleman but like a bad boy gentleman. A real Romantic (both romance how we think of it today and like Romanticism) archetype. If anyone is the heartthrob here, it is Watson.

woke up this morning, rolled over, and very confidently tried to blow out my alarm clock like a candle. absolutely no precedent for that.

early to bed and early to rise leaves a man so fucked up that he dies

VERY IMPORTANT a dam in the Netherlands, the weerdsluis lock, is directly on a migratory path for spawning fish. They have a worker stationed there to open the door for the fish, but they can take a while to open it. So to keep the fish from getting preyed on by birds they installed a doorbell. Only, the fish don't have hands to ring the doorbell. If you go to their website, they have a LIVE CAMERA AND A DOORBELL that YOU RING FOR THE FISH when they're waiting, and then the dam worker opens the door for them! I can't express how obsessed I am with this. look at this shit. oh my god.

Please check on the fish doorbell once in a while :)

Doyle Canon: This is Dr. John Watson. He has managed to have multiple love affairs on three different continents. He is a love machine. A sex god, if you will. Able to woo multiple Victorian ladies.

80% of Sherlock Holmes Adaptations: This is Dr. John Watson. He looks like a hamster.

Imagine you're introduced to another person who's just as much in search for an apartment as you are.

You were introduced to them by a mutual acquaintance. He came to London after taking part in a war and, though your knowledge on how the mind works is close to useless, you're well aware that soldiers hate suddenty.

Unfortunately, everything about you is a suddenty.

It's only fair to warn him how little your association would last, then, and so you start by listing out your flaws. You've been told about them many times now, from previous tenants unfortunate enough to have you as a flatmate, so it's easy to parrot them. Your tobacco smells too strong, your experiments take too much space and takes Science to no place it hasn't been before, you talk too much or you talk too little. He should expect the noise of sorrowful violin strings at ungodly hours. All in all, you're really unpleasant.

It's strange, though. The man not only stays in the room filled with the smell of nauseous chemicals, he's sharing his own shortcomings too. Though none of them are as bad as yours, he seems as if he wants to give it a try. Maybe it'll work for a couple of months, then, before everything falls apart.

You really want to keep that flat, so you decide you'll try to be more regular in your habits, at least while the war is still fresh inside of your flatmate's mind. Your schedule changes enough for you to rarely ever see him. It'd be better that way; last time you saw the other half of your rent regularly, the rational choice of leaving the full rent in your hands was felt like a betrayal.

The only time in which you can not avoid seeing him is during those days in which your chest feels heavy throughout the whole day and you can barely hold your violin without tossing it. During those days, whenever the two of you are forced to be in the same room, he doesn't need to ask if you're alright, he can see that you're not. Sometimes, he takes the opportunity to ask about your knowledge on a specific domain; answering the questions helps with distracting from the endless feeling of dread.

You could simply tell him what you do for a living, or create opportunities for him to ask a direct question. The second option would get him talking more, though.

Eventually he does ask you. Angrily, exasperated, but he does ask you. Luckily, you get a job not long after it to prove it to him. He'll probably leave you the moment his curiosity over this whodunnit dies.

But he doesn't.

Overtime, he doesn't find your method as mysterious, but instead of leaving the second that element is gone, he starts to use it himself. He's getting more confident in it, too, and each day he gets more deductions right.

He's not the one who leaves. It's you, once your body became too frail for adventure.

He's now leaving a train he took to Sussex, just to see you.

Hello, my dear. How have you been?

Ah yes I know that show, I watched it on tumblr.

faeries are not real but i wish thwy were so i could spray one with raid

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”