put-me-back-together

I helped myself.
wiped my own tears.
put balm over fresh wounds.
plastered parts of my heart that still were hurting.
gave myself time.
read books that soothed my soul.
heard music that calmed my nerves.
watched movies that made me smile.
bit by bit, piece by piece, I put
myself back together again.
and I gave myself a second chance
because I know that if I didn’t,

then no one else would.

—  Ruby Dhal
I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.
—  Haruki Murakami
First

Apparently the dust from the episode is settling a little because now I’m getting fluff plot bunnies instead of just feelsy serious ones lol


Silence settled in. Both Sherlock and Molly said nothing, barely hazarding a glance at each other. It took a few moments before Sherlock finally jumped back in. 

“Regardless of everything else, the fact still remains that I did say it first!”

Molly sputtered out a laugh. “Sherlock, I made you say it. Not sure that truly counts. You thought I was going to blow up!” 

“Mm,” he hummed in a doubting tone.

“You did think so!”

“But perhaps on some level I had deduced that it was indeed foolish for Eurus to blow up your flat and kill you and therefore wasn’t pushed to finally speak the words out of fear for your safety alone!”

“That is not what you were thinking at the time, admit it,” she laughed.

“Unconsciously, Molly, my mind can do truly amazing things!” he stated haughtily.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because even if the words left your lips first, I was the one who felt it first. Years, Sherlock!” She gently elbowed him.

“Again, definitely debatable!” he stubbornly insisted. “I am excellent at repressing emotion; been perfecting the skill for years! I may have been in love with you since the very first moment I walked into Bart’s lab and demanded to borrow some chemicals.”

Molly chuckled lightly as she left his side and crossed the room. This produced a deep frown on Sherlock’s brow as he propped himself up on his elbows…against the pillows on Molly’s bed.

“Where are you going?” he asked in what was to Molly an endearingly desperate tone.

“I do actually have to go to work, Sherlock,” Molly reminded him as she discarded her sleep shirt, well, his tee shirt, and began throwing clothes on for Bart’s. “As appealing as it is to stay here and repeat this little argument, I can’t be late.”

“Ooh, I think you could a little,” he said, his lips lifting in a little smirk as he got up to wrap his arms around her from behind. He dropped his voice much lower and whispered in her ear. “I’ll say it again if you’d like.”

Molly turned around to drape her arms around his neck as she grinned up at him. “Oh will you? Like you mean it?”

Sherlock nodded slowly, his eyes gently caressing her face. He dropped his head a bit so their lips were near touching as he murmured the words. “I. Love. You.”

She scrunched up her shoulders a little and bit her bottom lip, very pleasantly effected by the sound of his words. “I could listen to that all day,” she whispered back.

“That can absolutely be arranged.”

He’d barely got those words out before Molly grabbed his lips with hers, tugging him in tighter against her and quickly deepening the kiss. Not even the Consulting Detective could have deduced that she was about to pull away abruptly.

“Ok, now I really do have to go,” she said with an apologetic little smile while slipping away to grab her cardigan on her way to the bedroom door.

“W-what? You really are leaving?” he questioned wide eyed.

“I’ll be back probably by six.” She pointed a warning finger at him. “No experiments in the kitchen while I’m at work, please! And I’ve got a busy schedule today so if you’re thinking of popping in you’d better call first.”

Sherlock raised a teasing brow. “Only if you promise to actually pick up the phone.”

Molly narrowed her eyes, twisting her lips to prevent her laughter as she gave him a playful warning glare. “Save it. We’ll try that argument again later.”

“Ooh good,” Sherlock agreed with a boyish grin. “I like where that one always ends up.”

I think people are forgetting how well Silver played everyone in 405 

Even though we knew he would never betray Flint we were actually convinced that he was going to. Why? Because Silver can act. Better than we ever thought he could. Yet Hands, Billy, the crew AND the audience are still underestimating him in this situation now

Silver told Billy to kill Flint in 405

Now he’s telling 6 men to go kill him in 408 

Events are being repeated like they have been throughout this season yet people are STILL believing what is being fed to them

And look.. we know there is going to be some sort of twist. It’s what will make it, as Luke said, his ‘favourite written episode’. We’ve always been right about how important Flint and Silver are to each other. Don’t let this fool you. Don’t be like Billy and fall into the trap of thinking it was that easy to turn them against each other. He has underestimated their relationship again. Just like he underestimated it before. 

She said, write for me….
Write anything
Write about when you pray for me.
How you ask God to help me make it through each day,
That every waking moment I become stronger in faith,
That this storm is almost over,
And this pain I feel won’t last always.

Write about my hurt and how it makes you feel.
How you would do anything
to give me a moment of serenity
and peace.
Be that breath of fresh air,
and that sense of tranquility while I sleep.


Write about how much you love me
That you accept me for all that I am, and not just the good parts.
And on the days when I have no strength left, you will battle my demons for me.
Tell me my flaws are the most beautiful pieces of me,
And when I break, you will take your time putting me back together.

Write about how powerful you think I am.
And how much you admire my resilience.
Tell me that the strength I posses is a testament to those who struggle with the same obstacles I’m forced to fight against.
Tell me I’m going to win…that I’ve already won.

—  jadore06
I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.
—  Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
Final Cutscene Transcript

Father… It’s me, Michael. 
I did it. I found it.  
It was right where you said it would be.  
They were all there.
They didn’t recognize me at first, but then, they thought I was you…
And I found her.  
I put her back together, just like you asked me to.  
She’s free now.  

But something is wrong with me, I should be dead. But I’m not.  
I’ve been living in shadows.  
There is only one thing left for me to do now.
I’m going to come find you.  

…I’m going to come find you.

Sometimes I don’t feel real. My reality is so different from those around me that most days I feel removed and disconnected in a way that can’t be repaired. I see my friends living, actually living and doing normal things. At times I consider just leaving my room a step of progress, a good day. I suppose if you didn’t know me well, you would think I was the epitome of stable. God, the truth couldn’t be more the opposite. A year ago I thought someone else could fix me, that he could put back together my broken pieces, that he could make me feel. I was such an idiot. The only person who can fix me is myself, and I do want to fix myself. I just wish I didn’t feel so alone.
—  Hold my hand // k.s
Breath.

I just want to breathe…
I want to really breathe
Not a regular breath,
I want to take in a breath that consumes the World, and then slowly exhale it all back
I know that it exists, I just have not felt it
That is what I live for
Until then,
Why do I feel like I am suffocating?
It feels like the World is breathing me in Instead,
And exhaling me in pieces, for me to put back together
Whenever I feel like I am almost done with the pieces,
The World takes in another breath.
It seems like me being in pieces keeps the World alive.

I met him and suddenly the sky turned from grey to blue and my heart finally found itself.
I didn’t know what it was like to love, or even have a crush on someone. But one day someone was going to have to break me and oh God I wish it wasn’t him.
His brown eyes captivated me and I stared into them so much I saw the green that hid in them.
He was my green.
In a world of brown, he was my green.
Just by the simple act of our knees brushing set me to flames.
He made me love so hard and so fast.
He made the caterpillars in my stomach turn into butterfly’s and they flew up into my chest.
I didn’t care how many times he destroyed me.
Whenever I put my heart back together, it was stuck together with tape that had his name written all over it.
I didn’t care how many times he broke me.
I just wanted those amazing times in between.
He shattered me, or who I was, completely.
On that day, I changed. I became a different person and over half a year later, I’m still trying to learn who she is.
I still forget how to talk, or breathe, when his eyes meet mine.
He’s a horrible person who does nothing but hurt other people.
But oh how he saved me.
—  He saved me and destroyed me and I can’t decide which is better.