I wonder if he knows heâs all I think about at night.
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@makemelodies
I wonder if he knows heâs all I think about at night.
Maybe Iâm the only one who made this jumpâŠ
But what if the text that Sherlock sends at the end of tfp (which we assume would be to Irene Adler) is actually another clue to the secret special?
âYou know where to find me -SHâ
Yah, we do know where to find youâŠ. Sunday night on BBC.
AAAAAHHHGHHGHGHG
My secret episode theory: Â If there is a fourth episode of Sherlock, it will reveal that the entirety of series four is actually a hallucination on the plane during the five-minute exile, whereupon Sherlock will tell Mycroft to arrest Vivian Norbury and Culverton Smith, completely replace the staff at Sherringford and schedule him regular playdates with Eurus. Â Heâll also forbid Mary to go anywhere near aquariums - just in case - and slap Johnâs phone out of his hand and stomp on it. Â Then slap John, just for good measure.
After which he will rush to St. Bartâs and snog the living daylights out of Molly.
Yes, please.
I want Apple Tree Yard to just start on BBC One on sunday like nothingâs wrong. But after a few minutes the screen starts flickering and glitching and the show will get hacked by Sherlock like the BBC Twitter account a week ago and BBC will act all panicy and like they have no idea whatâs going on and they canât do anything And thatâs how the fourth episode will happen guys
âI Love Youâ: a manâs perspective
I havenât made the rounds yet this morning, but already last night Iâve seen multiple posts that seem to want to either downgrade or erase the meaning behind Sherlockâs words to Molly Hooper. I find it insanely amusing, because had those words been to John Watson, people would be wetting themselves, but because it was for Molly, people are climbing all over themselves to again deny this character her actual fair due.
My husband, who watches Sherlock with me, had some very interesting perspectives on The Final Problem. He tends to read the show textually, without shipping or all the other nonsense we as fandom people get into. Â I tend to trust what he says only because he has no ulterior motives, like zero. Even my own ship doesnât really mean a damn thing to him. He knows I love it, but heâs not swayed by my reading or my desires at all. Â
His reading of The Final Problem was that this was Eurus effectively unlocking the original Sherlock Holmes. Â This was Sherlockâs sister, bringing him home, just as he was bringing her home. Â To do that, she had to undo what she did when she took Victor Trevor away from him at that young age. Â She took a little boy who was filled with bright, wonderful, hot emotion, and she made him lock that away. Â She made him like her, and to my husband, it seemed like that was never what Eurus wanted. Â
The scenes inside Sherrinford were about systematically making Sherlock face each single, major emotion that heâs refused to feel all these years: anger, fear, sadness, and above allâŠlove.  And no, I donât mean love for your best friend, thatâs already been addressed, and that was already the easiest thing for Sherlock to unlock in himself. He basically did that in S1.  Sherlock loves John, his best friend, just like he loved Victor.  The parallels are spelled out for you in the clearest of ways. Â
Sherlockâs locking away of his âsexualityâ was already broken open in S2 with Belgravia.  Irene Adler represented a part of Sherlock that really, really wanted out.  It was confusing as hell for him, as we saw, but he still managed to deal with it.  Sex is sex is sex.  Itâs meaningful, and at the same time, can also be meaningless.  I personally never saw Irene as meaningless, far from it.  But I do think her special place in Sherlockâs âunlockingâ was more physical than emotional.  Hence, we were reminded of this by the moan of her text tone. I personally think Sherlockâs sexuality is firmly unlocked at this point, no need to revisit it again and again.  Something that remained hidden though, very deep down, was Sherlockâs ability, willingness and understanding of a deeper love, and what that means.  This is where Eurus comes in.
The scene with the coffin was very carefully done, both by the writers and on the part of Eurusâ planning. Â In fact, if you listen carefully to Eurusâ words, she states exactly why she did it: you lost, look what you did to her, look what you did to yourself, all those complicated, complex emotions, emotional context. Â All of those things are things people feel when they love someone (romantic love, since Iâm sure I need to spell it out for some viewers). Â You feel elated, but you also feel scared. Â You may also hate yourself because you probably feel the person you love deserves BETTER than you. Â Should you act on it or let them go find someone better. Â Do you have the strength to give up parts of yourself for them? Â Do they have the strength to give up parts of themselves for you? Â Itâs scary as hell, yâall!!
 My hub says, to him, the first time Sherlock says âI love youâ to Molly Hooper, he didnât mean itâŠor at least Sherlock thinks he didnât mean it. Then, the second time, he did mean it, and he knows it.  That is why he smashed the coffinâŠthat was perhaps the biggest emotion heâd locked away, and he was consumed and confused by it.  For a man who has spent decades pushing love away, it came roaring in within 3 minutes, and he couldnât push it away. Eurus wouldnât let him push it away, and more importantly, Molly Hooper wouldnât let him push it away. Thatâs why she turned the tables on him and made him say it first.  She inadvertently helped Eurus, which Iâm sure was her plan all along (if you believe sheâs as much of a supernatural badass as sheâs shown to be).
My husbandâs purely textual reading of Sherlockâs smashing the coffin with âI love youâ on it is that he DID mean it, but he wasnât sure what that meant to him, and it scares him, greatly.  He said that looked like a man who was pissed that he LOVES.  He spent his entire life working at not loving, and here he is, loving this woman, but now he isnât sure what to do about it, because heâs not even sure what that really means.  He doesnât understand itâŠyet.  Love like that is incredibly strong, true love I mean, not âHey letâs boneâ love.  He said that wasnât the actions of a man who doesnât really care.  He said, as a man, if I had to get a woman to say that and I didnât really love her, I wouldnât care as much.  I surely wouldnât care enough to smash an entire coffin to bits with my bear hands.
Lastly, my husband said something I thought was incredibly interesting about how he reads Sherlock. Â He said he thinks the reason Sherlock hasnât really pursued any other relationships with women, not seriously that is, is that on some level he really knew he loved Molly, but that he felt HE wasnât good enough for HER. Â He thinks Sherlock, for all of his arrogance, actually doesnât think heâs a good man. Â He knows Molly Hooper deserves a good man, someone to love her exactly how he thinks she should be loved, and heâs terrified he ISNT that man, or he CANT be that man. Â His rage at smashing that coffin was basically anger at himself, anger at himself for loving this woman who really deserves more.
So, from a man who views this show with as much pure text as possible, he thinks that âI Love Youâ was real, but he thinks Sherlock simply doesnât know what to do with it, doesnât know what it means.  He said love is the scariest thing, especially to someone whoâs lived closed off.  Heâs had an upbringing that, without going into details, was a bit devoid of emotional support from people he needed it from. That means that learning how to show love was incredibly, incredibly difficult for him.  Trust me, Iâve been here for the entire thing.  It took years for him to learn how to show it.  It took me years tooâŠin fact I still have massive trouble with it. People whoâve lived not understanding how to love since young childhoodâŠit takes us a very long time to learn how to do it. Â
My husband and I are not the kind of people who go on romantic ballroom dancing dates and snuggle on the Tunnel of Love ride.  Weâre just not those kind of peopleâŠbut we do love each other very much.  We have our way of showing it that works for us. Thereâs no one else Iâd rather trust my mind, body and soul to.  That was first built on friendship, then trust, then love.  For us, I think thatâs kind of where Sherlock is starting to head.  We may not ever see that adventure, as thatâs not what Sherlockâs story was about.  But, finding how to love, that was his story, and Molly Hooper is an irreplaceable part of that.  No one can deny that, not ever.
I ship Sherlock and Molly <3
Do you know who else is unmarried, distant from their close relatives and practical about death?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
GRABE LANG
love u
Whatever youâre about to tell meâŠ
looooove
Just ENFJ Things Pt 2
1. Biting your tongue when wanting reprimand someone for being rude/ignorant/wrong/hurtful to weigh out the different approaches in communicating to this person. You gotta go in with the perfect tactic.
2. Being easily brightened up by a passerby saying hello.
3. Being hella tired but are completely capable staying up talking to someone for another 3 hours.Â
4. TEAM GAMES <3 TEEEAAAMMMM
5. Being overly critical of systems, leaders, teachers, other beings of influence.
6. Going from 100% sarcastic/ childlike/ jokey to 100% serious/ pensive/ 80 years old in 30 seconds flat
me again
Just ENFJ Things Pt 3
1. Externally screaming but internally being calm as shit. Confuses many people.Â
2. âWait, but why?â
3. That ulcer-inducing feeling when you realize you werenât invited.
4. âAm I being needy? Do I come off as desperate and uncool?â
5. Cutting off someone in traffic and *making sure* you donât look in the rearview mirror to see angry driverâs face. If you donât see the person, you donât feel bad.
me. esp #1
ENs Flirting
ENFP: Radiates friendliness. Tries to pull crush into their orbit.Â
ENTP: *does 5-billion charismatic, stupid things to get crush to notice them*
ENTJ: âYou⊠are more tolerable than most people Iâve met.âÂ
ENFJ: Responds to everything with,â I see. Wanna talk about it?â Also might perform a bunch of atypically thoughtful gestures, such as giving crush cookies.
So true.
I JUST REALIZED THAT RACHEL SAID "I HAVEN'T BEEN THIS WORRIED ABOUT A VOTE SINCE LAMBERT VS. ALLEN"
HONESTLY IT WAS THE BEST MOMENT OF THIS EPISODE FOR ME
LIJKA;LSDKAJF;LSDJFASDL;JKASDFASF OH MY GOD I MISS YOU 2009.Â
confession: Sometimes I go watch old Kradam fanvids because I miss them so muhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuch
That awkward moment when I thought she was talking about the outcome of a court case regarding gay rights.
Missing Kradam.
Superbloom
Written by Petra Magno
Hey friend,
I miss my faith.
Iâm definitely not the most religious of people, and though for most of my life I attended Sunday mass â if I wasnât sleepy I was hungover, and if I wasnât hungover I was on drugs â I only went because it made my mum happy to have us all there as a family, and isnât making your mum happy a totally Catholic thing to do? Itâs different here in New York. My aunts all go to mass but they donât pressure me to come with them, so my Sundays are usually spent lazing in bed, with a book or a boy or both, and then going out for brunch and spicy Bloody Marys.
I went to a public school for grade school (UPIS reppinâ) and while they taught the entire curriculum in Filipino they didnât teach religion, and rightfully so, because public school. My mother sent me to Sunday school anyway, where I memorized all the prayers and then some, got Confirmed and all that jazz. A brief stint in an Opus Dei school where the girls kept lists of their sins in their wallets so they could recite them back to a priest during weekly confession. And then Ateneo: where I scraped my Theology classes for poems, the whole problematic rigmarole of âimmersion,â where we pale and privileged rich kids were deployed to urban and rural areas plagued with poverty, as if two weeks eating fish and rice could humble us.
My professor, the transcendent Bobby Guev, recently published a lecture explaining the basic tenets of liberation theology. Itâs in Taglish, so if any English readers need help translating, reach out and Iâll try my best to explain.
What I understand of liberation theology is this: your freedom, and the freedom of your soul, is inextricably tied up in the liberation of others. If the goal is to get heaven on earth, (And it is. The promise is not only to ascend into some otherworldly plane but rather that this world, the one we live and fight and die and shit in, will be made excellent, but only if we are excellent to each other.) you canât do it alone.
This little light of mine Glory be to God Imma make sure they go where they canât go If they donât wanna ride I can still give âem raincoats
Thatâs off Chance the Rapperâs verse on Ultralight Beam, probably the best thing on The Life of Pablo. Hereâs some shit you wonât find on Rapgenius: Chance co-founded a project called Warmest Winter 2016, which gives high-tech jackets (that become sleeping bags) to the homeless of Chicago. Chance also throws city-wide events and concerts on Memorial Day, the weekend where gun violence spikes crazily in the inner city, in an effort to promote safety. His hashtag? #FaithInAction
Iâm just sayinâ. I envy Chance his joy, I envy him his action and his impact. I envy him his security.
I cried when I first saw Chance perform Angels, because I too want angels all around me, I want that security and confidence that comes with being allied with God: âI made Sunday Candy, Iâm never going to hellâ he raps on Ultralight Beam. That no weapon forged against you will prosper. The bonus of having faith in God is having faith in your own superpowers.
My own immersion experience was slightly off-beat. Bobby Guev didnât send me to live with fishermen or an indigenous family; he sent me to a public school in Balara. There I was tasked to observe classes. (Flashback to when I myself was a student in UPIS, all of us getting scolded before class so weâd be on our best behavior for the Observer.) I was that Observer, taking notes on whether the teacher was engaging the students, if the students could answer questions meant for their level of education, or if the classrooms were conducive to learning. (Spoiler: rarely, rarely, absolutely not.) I met with the teachers, some parents, faculty, and student leaders, asking them how school could become something they were interested in, not just a building but an actual education. I wrote a seventy-page report with charts and graphs, and that was my immersion requirement.
Until today I think about what Bobby Guev was asking of me, and how I so fully failed to live up to his hopes. He knew I wanted to become a teacher, specifically Literature in Ateneo, and this was his gentle suggestion: maybe go where you are needed, and Ateneo doesnât need you. Instead I packed my bags and flew to a city that doesnât need me at all. Every day it tells me that.
So I do miss my faith. I miss believing in something bigger than myself that also somehow believes in me, that loves me and trusts that Iâm not going to fuck up other people or myself because thereâs a bunch of simple instructions all over the place.
This a house of God Iâm just leasing, he rent it to me This sentence? He penned it too Thatâs a Gmail, He sent it to me I can send you his contact Hit him if you in combat
Most of all, I miss being forgiven. I learned about Catholicism in various ways, but what I took away â from Sunday school, Opus Dei, Jesuit theology, my mother â was that, yeah, weâre all sinners, but fuck that noise: God doesnât care. He knows. Imagine someone who knew every single grimy corner of your grimy soul, but loving you anyway. Thatâs faith, and itâs fucking mind-blowing. Thatâs why He did that whole crucifixion thing, so you could be good too, so you could go through life knowing you are loved, and that you deserve good things, that pulling heaven onto earth is possible but you gotta squad up to do it. Faith is personal, but church? Thatâs a community, all of them trying to be good and be kind. Â
I miss that all-encompassing mercy. I havenât felt it in so long. Some days I want to fall to my knees just so someone could take my arm and help me back to my feet.
Love,
Petra