boyfriend!caleb who fixes everything without you even needing to ask. drawer sticking? already taken care of. lamp flickering? rewired it. he doesn't tell youāhe just watches as you notice it later and coyly grins into his coffee.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who claims he's not tired after a long mission, only for you to find him half-asleep on the couch, boots still on and one arm curled around a pillow. His mouth is slack, just barely drooling onto the fabric, grumbling something unintelligible as you try to take off his shoes for him.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who never talks about his nightmares, but you know he has them. sometimes you wake to find him already staring at the ceiling, eyes tired and fingers quietly tracing his necklace. you don't pressāyou just reach for his hand under the covers, and he squeezes back like that's all he needed to fall back asleep again.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who always insists on carrying the groceries, your bags, or even your water bottle if you're out walking together. āwhat kind of man would I be if I let you haul this on your own?ā he says, smugābut you catch him sneaking glances at your smile every time.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who brushes your hair behind your ear while you're half-asleep just to get a better look at your face. when your eyes flutter open, heās still staring, mischief in his voice as he mutters, āwould you look at thatāiām still not dreaming. guess iām really stuck with you after all, pips.āĀ
boyfriend!caleb who likes it when you sit on the counter while he cooks. Not because it's helpful, but because he likes having you close, swinging your legs and stealing tastes while he pretends to scold you. āthatās for the plate, not your fingers. ā¦okay, one more.ā youāre lucky you're cute.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who doesn't say he's jealous, but suddenly gets a lot clingier after someone else makes you laugh. an arm slung around your waist, chin hooked over your shoulder, voice low and casual as he asks, ānew friend of yours?ā as much as you tease, he just hums and pulls you closer. ādidn't know I needed to remind you who you belong to.āĀ
boyfriend!caleb who hates fighting with youānot because he can't argue, but because he refuses to let it wedge between you. even if he's still annoyed, he'll find you in the dark, sliding his arm around your torso, voice firm. āweāre not ending the night like this. iām mad, you're mad, fine. but iām not losing sleep over something we can fix. not with you.āĀ
boyfriend!caleb who pouts when you steal his jackets, but always makes sure the next one you take smells freshly laundered and has something tucked in its pocketāa wrapped candy, a scribbled note, a folded paper starāsomething small. something tender. something thatās his.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who doesn't flinch when you're angry because he wants you to feel safe expressing anything with him. he lowers his voice, softens his expression and says, āokay, hit me with it. no shields.ā and he listens.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who dreams of a small life away from the fleet, from Ever, from everything. a place where no one knows his name, where the two of you can be ordinary. even when you blow off the prospect, heās already mapped it out in his head, blueprints and all.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who doesn't let you see how much it kills him that he's part machine. but every time your fingers brush the metal of his arm, and you don't flinchāevery time you press your lips to the cold and say, āstill youāāsomething in him stitches back together.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who can't stop watching you when you're distracted. reading, cooking, tying your shoes, it doesn't matter. he stares like you're the most fascinating thing in the world. and when you catch him, he just shrugs. āwhat? can't look at my beautiful girl?āĀ
boyfriend!caleb who says āmineā under his breath when he kisses you. itās not about ownership, itās about fear. like he still canāt believe you chose him. like if he doesnāt say it out loud, the world might steal you back.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who has contingency plans for if you go missing. not because he doesn't trust you (at least, for the most part), but because the world is dangerous. he's memorized every route of town, planted caches, and learned the faces and names of potential threats. youāll never know how deep it goes.Ā
boyfriend!caleb who keeps a photo of you hidden behind the inner clasp of his uniform, its surface creased and edges softened by time and touch. no one knows it's there, not even youābut when the world turns brutal, pressures high and hands bloody, heāll press his fingers to it like a lifeline. and sometimes, when no one's looking, he unfolds itājust for a momentāand allows his eyes to soften in a way his subordinates never see. youāre his axis. his anchor. his only constant in a world of smoke and lies. heād crawl through fire, through blood, and through everything he hates about himself just to come home to you.Ā
My favourite part of writing professional emails is sending them and immediately running over to my "sent" folder to check I did in fact write "Yeah, I can make a 3 PM meeting" and not "I think you're a big stupid piece of shit and I fucked your wife" somehow
For Traitor: neck retraction exercise. While lying in bed with your head flat against the mattress, give yourself the biggest double chin you can. Repeat 10 times.
For Jackass: stop hiking your shoulders up to your ears. This is pretty much a stress thing, itās human instinct to protect our neck when weāre under stress so that predators canāt get at it. Easiest way to do that is be elevating the shoulders, so. Periodically take not of where your shoulders are at.
Absolute Fuckwaffle: stretch out your chest. The rhomboids on the back work to keep our shoulder blades back, so when weāre hunched forward they are constantly straining to do their job. Unfortunately itās not as simple as telling you to stand up straight, since our pectorals get chronically tight and prevent us from doing so. Step one: pectoral stretches. Hold for at least 20 seconds.
Asshole: Superman exercises. Like the rhomboids, the ESGs are straining against the slump. Stretching the chest will help them, too, but then you e got to strengthen your back. Do 20 of those per day.
The SS Warrimoo, a passenger steamship traveling from Vancouver to Australia, was silently knifing its way across the mid-Pacific waters. The navigator had just finished calculating a star fix and handed the results to Captain John DS. Phillips.
The Warrimoo's coordinates were LAT 0Āŗ 31' N, LONG 179 30' W. The date was December 31, 1899. "Know what this means?" First Mate Payton announced, "We're only a few miles from the intersection of the Equator and the International Date Line."
Captain Phillips was prankish enough to seize the opportunity to do the nautical feat of a lifetime. He summoned his navigators to the bridge to double-check the ship's position. He altered his course slightly to focus directly on his target. He then altered the engine's speed.
The calm weather and clear night worked to his advantage. At midnight, the SS Warrimoo rested on the Equator, exactly where it had crossed the International Date Line. The ramifications of this odd arrangement were numerous.
The ship's bow was in the Southern Hemisphere, in the middle of summer. The stern was in the Northern Hemisphere, in the midst of winter. The date on the aft portion of the ship was December 31, 1899. The date on the forward half of the ship was January 1, 1900. The ship experienced multiple days, months, years, seasons, and centuries simultaneously.
The idea of english as a mother tongue is so strange to me, in my head english is how ppl communicate when thereās no way in common to communicate, so english as a mother tongue sounds a bit like idk email as a mother tongue ykwim? Like english to me feels like the stuff thatās used to fill the empty spaces between languages
the thing all sherlock holmes adaptations get wrong is making the guy an irredeemable asshole who treats everyone like shit . not only is it not reflective of the original stories they miss that ānice, smart, well mannered dude who snorts coke when he needs to thinkā is possibly the funniest character ever devisedĀ
I feel like the modern equivalent is that guy you think is super well put together until you find out exactly how much red bull he ingests on a regular basis.
Modern Sherlock is that very nice English Professor-seeming guy who you bring a problem and while walking from the door of his office to his desk he starts explaining the entire solution you need
And upon reaching his desk heās like āExcuse me one moment.ā and pulls out one of those huge Monster canisters they legally arenāt allowed to make anymore, cracks the whole thing, chugs it, takes a deep breath, and then nods at you and is like āAlright, and then what you need to do isā¦ā
why even modernize it to energy drinks??? coke didnāt go anywhere. we still have coke. energy drinks arenāt NEARLY chaotic enough.Ā
Its is more like you hiring some guy to do private investigation about how your husband maybe cheating on you and Sherlock comes to your house high as fuck. Walks into your living room and without taking a moment to even talk to you or sign any paperwork, he turns aroundāpupils as big as godāand just says
āIts your best friend Brenda. Iāll email you the invoice.āĀ
Because when it was written cocaine was legal and even considered healthy and useful by some laypeople, even though doctors knew it wasnāt, and Watson was always trying to stop people from encouraging Sherlockās addiction because HE KNEW BETTER.
So consider this, Holmes, at 2am, desperately searching the flat for the stashes of NOS cans, only to keep coming up with passive aggressive pamphlets about the dangers of caffeine overdose.
Watson wakes up to a stench like Satanās ass to find Sherlock sitting by his bed with a re-heated pot of cold brewed Deathwish Coffee that had been hidden in the back of the toilet tank (brewing) for five months.Ā Sherlock is trying to say heās proud of Johnās cleverness in finding most of the stashes, but heās passed into the fifth dimension and all John gets is a creepy vibrating grin and a sound like a shaken cat.
TLDR, Sherlock did die when he fell off the Falls, but he was so coked up his body didnāt stop moving until like a decade later.
Sherlock as one of those cryptid types the baristas talk about (thereās a post floating around somewhere) who comes in and orders a venti with as many shots as they are legally allowed to add, plus a few more for good measure (and a hefty tip) and then adds energy drink on top of it before chugging the whole thing, to the absolute horror of the cafe staff.
Further discourse! Everyone is missing the fact that Sherlock used cocaine toĀ āescape from the commonplaces of existenceā when he didnāt have a case. The drugs are a substitute. Which means that when you hire him heās stone-cold sober and JUST AS WEIRD.Ā
So itās more like realizing that your flatmate with the caffeine/sometimes drug death wish will only chill the fuck out when he has some strange mystery to unravel, so you spend your free time scouring reddit posts that might actually feature a real missing person. Or a ghost. You really donāt care which at this point. When you finally find something your flatmate is THRILLED and straight up stops eating because he thinks he can survive on intellectual curiosity alone, and yeah thatās not good, but itās better than what he was doing to himself before. Your success is comparative, okay? You stick around for the meeting partly because youāre curious, partly because this is your home too remember, and partly because youāve found that writing up these insane excursions helps pay off your student loans. Your Patreon is thriving. The entire time your flatmate is interviewing this poor SOB he keeps breaking into manic grins and youāre kicking him under the table, trying to help him remember that others arenāt happy about a death in the family. Halfway through he pulls a cigarette from a stash in his smelly bedroom slipper, offering the client one and yeah, thatās very nice, butā¦ no. No thank you. Heās dressed impeccably and has a violin worth millions just lying on the floor, but the flat as a whole looks like a tornado just blew through and thereās something growing on the walls beside the makeshift lab. Is he rich? Dirt poor? Impossible to tell based on the surroundings. The entire time he rattles off observations about the client not at all related to the case and his continuing good mood depends entirely on how impressed the guy is. If he mentionsĀ āmagic tricksā orĀ āI saw that on Youtubeā youāre prepped for damage control.Ā
By 8:00pm youāve finally convinced your flatmate to look up from his research and go half on a pizza, but the second it gets there he shrieks in excitement and runs out the door, demanding that you follow with your legally dubious gun. You apologize profusely to the delivery guy and double his tip, begging him not to call the cops. No, not because youāre afraid of arrest, you just know the head of the local precinct and heās a pain in the ass.Ā
You run after your flatmate knowing damn well you have to be up early tomorrow because despite maintaining a private practice you still donāt make enough to get your own apartment.Ā
Personally I see Sherlock as ADHD and no one will ever convince me otherwise
I mean ā itās textbook hyperfixation/understimulation right there ā I Also forget to eat and sleep and do Human Things when Iām vibing with whatever makes my brain go, and I Also take (medically prescribed) stimulants when I need to think. And Also adhd understimulation makes mundane existence an agony that one will do nearly anything to escape but at least in the modern day we have things like video games and netflix so itās a little easier to actually get that escape without yāknow completely self-destructing along the way (Sherlock Holmes plays Among Us to fill the void between cases change my mind)
And while itās entirely legit that a modern ADHD sherlock might self-medicate with energy drinks and home-brewed toilet-tank-coffee, Iād LOVE to see an adaptation where Sherlock just. has a prescription?
So instead of hunting down his secret Bad Habit Stash, John could be like āhey, sherlock- the pharmacy called, your meds are readyā and then sherlock would be all āLATER JOHN IM ON A CASE RN I DONT NEED THEMā and Johnād be like āsherlock no thatās not how that worksā
And then later once the case has been solved and the existential agony of understimulation sets back in, Sherlock could be like āhey John pass me my medsā And John might be āsherlock you already took them this morning I saw youā āyeah but theyāre not working yetā ādude it takes time for them to kick inā āsure sure OR I could just take more. I missed some days yāknow I gotta catch upā āsherloCK NO I am a DOCTOR thatās NOT HOW THAT WORKSā And then sherlock heaves a gigantic sigh and grabs a can of RedBull thatād been stuffed between the couch cushions and John like swats him with a shoe or something because SHERLOCK NO do you KNOW what that stuff DOES to your HEART PLEASE STOP
True story: many undiagnosed folks with ADHD self-medicate without realizing what theyāre self-medicating for.Ā Andāsurprise, surprise!āthey often reach not for depressants but for stimulants. The trouble is that itās a lot harder to guesstimate the right amount of cocaine to bring an ADHD brain to optimal (which is what prescription stimulants are trying to do).Ā
Another interesting side note: a lot of ADHD people donāt have theĀ ānormalā reaction to, say, coffee or tea. It seems counterintuitive, but sometimes caffeine just makes them sleepy (and weāre not talking caffeine crash hours later. No, weāre talking āimmediate post-coffee naptimeā). The same thing happens with prescription stimulants. If your dose isnāt right, itās just as likely your Adderall (or Ritalin, or variants) will just make you tired. Itās REAL WEIRD.Ā
What Iām saying is, you could absolutely have a Sherlock who has been using/abusing illegal stimulants until Watson shows up, then have Watson diagnose the ADHD and desperately try to find the RIGHT MED at the RIGHT DOSE (a mystery even Sherlock would struggle with), while Sherlockāfull of ADHD impatience and depressingly dysfunctional dopamine receptorsāinsists, āThe cocaine was fine, John. This mucking about with ineffectual tablets is worse than the bloody boredom!ā
you are not a machine. you are more like a garden. you need different things on different days. a little sun today, a little less water tomorrow. you have fallow and fruitful seasons. it is not a design flaw. it is wiser than perpetual sameness. what does your garden need today?
stormborns
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
titsay
dailybridgerton
origamiaround
pixelskylines
vaporwave
