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behindthestrings · 3 years

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The Shutara Primer (Part 2)

I’m not one of those, who’s in the camp of a past 12th squad. I’m not. I doesn’t make any sense to me. I know I’ve spent many, many angry hours on reddit that I’m never going to get back.but that’s ok. I have an RP blog instead.

Everybody is entitled to their own headcanons about her, of course, but never, ever approach me with that one.

I’ve always believed that Shutara is one of the original founding captains. She is the inventor of the shihakushou, and given that we know Genryuusai is a member of the original 13 captains, the panel that I go to is this one out of ch 510 I believe (?).

CLEARLY they are in shihakushou and have captain’s haoris. Soooo I figure that she’s probably in existence. Clearly, she would not have been the first person to ascend to guardship—that’s probably Ichibei of course. But, I will never agree with someone who says that she’s a very recent ascension.

Instead, I’ve always felt that if Shutara was an original captain, she would belong to the 2nd.

Shutara has powers that are steeped in illusion and subterfuge. Likewise, she appears to have abilities in tracking souls. The 2nd may not be known as a squad for scientific discovery...but Shutara doesn’t really seem to be billed in a “scientist” mold, but certainly in that of a creative person and inventor. Instead, I feel like she brought a lot of mental strength to the idea of intelligence collection, which subterfuge is very clearly needed to do well.

All right. Like here is the official wiki description of her cloth manipulation powers. It is clearly involved in both the ability to hide people including herself, and carry out close range execution, with a needle fulfilling the general purpose of a dagger.

Cloth Manipulation: Senjumaru can create, shape, and manipulate any sort of cloth for various purposes. She has created cloth backdrops in order to mirror the surrounding area and intricate personal soldiers from fabric that follow her mental command. An extension of her abilities to manipulate cloth, she also can manipulate the sewing needles she uses to alter clothing to deal fatal injuries to opponents unfortunate enough to be wearing them.[23][24] Her ability to manipulate cloth allows her to create elaborate scenarios on her backdrops to simulate real actions and situations.[25]

If I think about something like the 2nd division and the Onmitsukidō then I am immediately drawn to the fact that the Divine Soldiers (神兵) exist.

In CFYOW, it’s revealed that these are real people, and that they are killed in battle and recruited to replace, just like any other elite body of fighters within Soul Society. She even has her own words to refer to them the “Blade of the Soul King” (霊王の刃). So, it wouldn’t surprise me that she probably has commanding experience of something similar in the 2nd, and her skills at leading highly specialized warriors/intelligence would have only enhanced the defensive forces of the Soul King Palace complex.

You say…but wait a minute! What about the Shihouin family? Welp, lets talk about the Shihouin family.

In particular, the object that the Shihouin family is rumored to pass down and protect. Here is another wiki citation (via Bleach: Official Character Book SOULs)

“Every generation the head of the Shihōin is tasked to protect the Tenshiheisō (天賜兵装, Imperial Soldier Garments), an incredible spiritual tool that is said to have been handed down from the Heavens.”

Like I know that it can refer to things like armor and what not, but the official translation decided on using the word “garment” so I don’t really wish to ignore that. And I mean…there’s zero reason why armor can’t be considered clothing and be connected to Shutara’s manipulation powers anyway But yeah, garments handed down from the heavens. Which, to me first draws on some of the symbolisim of Amaterasu that Shutara’s motifs are connected to that I’ll talk about in a different post, and the fact that Royal Guards are in a heavenly dimension.

Also, if you look at the Shihouin crest, it’s got a crescent moon, and stars. One of the more obvious things that you see on Shutara, is her celestial crown, which very clearly has a crescent moon featured, and some sort of sun/star thing. I mean…honestly this could mean anything. But I find it a very interesting connection that Shutara has highly stylized versions of these things.

Shihouin crest

(Back and Front)

Do I think she’s a member of the Shihouin line? Nah. I know that plenty of noble families have different branches and whatnot, so she’s probably connected somehow, yes. But I’ve always felt that she sort of is a bare branch that is on some very archaic part of the family tree with no living descendants, in a different clade than the current Shihouin leaders.

But if I’ve read right (and it’s also been a while since I’ve looked at them), it seems like due to the fact that the Royal Guards balance things between the wills of the Gotei and the wills of the Noble Houses, if you have a guard with a tie to a house, no matter how oblique, it may somewhat pacify one or more sides who wants to complain about who has more power over what.

Anyway, this is what I’ve always believed and will be working with. Am I willing to change it? Maybe. Depends on the idea brought to me.

#senjumaru shutara #threads of the tapestry (headcanons)#Shutara Primer #long post #longpost #ugh #sorry for the info dump #I've been putting this together all week

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abahwrites · 7 years

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Secunda’s Kiss and the Nine’s Lost Two Stars

Inspired by Elder - Legend (Lore, 2015)

20th Frostfall, 4E 201

It has been three years since I found the other me in Secunda’s Kiss. We meet at the most inappropriate time; I was fighting a lonely Giant when I saw her when I saw the only healer who could heal anything. Better than the Priests of Arkay or Kynareth, even better than Priests of Stendarr. She was severely injured and couldn’t even stand straight. At the time the Giant is lying on the ground, I approached the healer and gave her the best hospitality I could ever give to a woman. Later that night, I set up a camp for the both of us and stayed there for the evening. I can’t cook, but a roasted venison and a bit mammoth’s cheese is more than enough for two. Her hands still stiff and she could barely do anything. It was at 08:32 in the evening that we decided to rest on the Giant’s seclusion for a night. I gave her my thickest coat and let her sleep in my tent. I fed her with a considerable care as she opened her mouth slowly, munching it so smoothly that I couldn’t hear any munching sounds coming from her lips. She was powerless in front of Giants, but she is more than powerful when battling against me. Against my heart.

With submissive eyes, she tries to grab my hands as if it was a bolster pillow, a thick, massive, fluffy bolster pillow. Her hands are still stiff and hurt when I touched it, but she managed to bear the pain to just hold my hand as a repayment for saving her fragile life. Priestesses I know throughout my adventure in Skyrim has nothing compared to this healer’s strength. That night she slept under the thick blanket made of light provided by Masser and Secunda as her first gift of the evening. The wind blows smoothly, comfortable enough for the healer to sleep within my hands as she rubs it with her blonde and braided hair. Giant’s campfire is surrounding us with warmth, the cold of Whiterun Plains didn’t have enough penetration to penetrate our skins and clothing. Kynareth blesses the night like it was the last night we lived in Nirn as our souls ascended to Sovngarde. We told ourselves that Secunda’s Kiss will be the place where two stranger hearts met and immediately surrounded by Mara’s compassion.

31st Frostfall, 4E 201

Eleven days passed and now we're closer as if we were a sword with its scabbard. We read many books and looting many dungeons. It was fun to stand beside the Healer; she is strong enough to take three bandits in a row without getting a single sweat. Her braids still untouched whenever she engages enemies in combat. She took a lesson from a brothel in Morrowind that pole dancers ability to dance in long, stationary pole can defend themselves using their dancing skills with a more dynamic, shorter pole, in the form of a magic staff. I never thought that an earthly desire could lead her into mastering a self-defence technique that nobody would ever learn. We went to the Eastmarch Tundra, a lot of volcanic activities that also attracts Giants to make a better nest for themselves. The day is dawning, and our loot is waiting.

I don’t know why Kynareth blesses us always, in every path we take, in every turn of our lives, in every minute walking in the Pines of Skyrim, in every night there’ll always be Secunda’s Blanket. Masser and Secunda are the two moons of Skyrim, clearly visible every clear as crystal nights. The night whispers in our sleep that something amazing or utterly disgraceful will happened soon. The Healer seems okay with that as if the night whispers nothing to her ears. Under the campfire light, I guard the night while the Healer sleeps on my lap peacefully. We found a little crevice near a Giant camp; it’s empty and warm enough for us to spend the night.

2nd Sun’s Dusk, 4E 201

I can’t believe that we were in love. The Adventurer takes care of me at his best, I can’t count how many times he saved my life, but it always Secunda and Masser that saves us both. These moons led us to something bigger than we expected, something that I cannot anticipate greatly yet memorable. By the Nine, I am falling in love. Mara, please guide me to your everlasting compassion. Well, since he’s sleeping earlier than I am, now I must guard him at all costs, there’s no harm to see and read what boys write about their uninterestingly remarkable life, is it not? Let me tell you about my story. A bit.

The Adventurer and I seem to raid everything smoothly. Dwemer ruins are the worst, you got in and raided some, next time you blinked, you’re either dead or in Falmer’s captivity. Mzulft was the worst for me. A lot of Falmer, Dwemer automatons, and its deadly traps are hidden in plain sight. I went to Mzulft, rumoured to house one of the most beautiful Dwemer artefact. The Aetherium Shard, or so I’ve heard and known throughout the books and maybe bribing some sketchy scholars in the Imperial City of Cyrodiil. To know that this little artefact is in Skyrim, I was more than eager to get it on my hands, sell it to the merchants of the Thieves’ Guild, and get out from Skyrim as quick as possible before the War plaguing the nation even worse. Curse my necessity of knowing everything! I’ve read a book titled “The Aetherium Wars,” the author (and several deadly curiosity adventuring) said that four pieces of the Aetherium Shards scattered throughout the biggest Dwemer settlements in Skyrim. To do that, I must find a place called Arkngthamz to begin my research. I came from the south, from Cyrodiil and went to take some rest in Riften – sketchiest place I’ve ever been. You can’t go through Riften without bribing, and your pocket’s emptied by the local thieves that reside in the sewer area called the Ratway. After learning that one undisclosed figure within Thieves’ Guild wants the Aetherium Shard, I’d offer my help and my intelligence to search for such things. The minimum information gave me a hard time to understand and solve the Aetherium Shard puzzle. So I rent a carriage to Whiterun to meet one of his contacts that know where this cursed Aetherium Shards that haunts me day by day, I got out from the carriage and went exploring the place. Excessively. The first place I visited in Whiterun Hold is the Secunda’s Kiss, the first and the most visited sites before and after I know the Adventurer. He treated me like a High Queen, but also maintain his politeness towards me, which I found very rare amongst another adventurer I’ve known, and I’ve seen throughout my journey in Tamriel. Countless dawns and dusks, these feet can still climb the high hills of Skyrim, these feet led me to an inevitable fate. Meeting the Adventurer. I thought I was going to die that night, but Stendarr still has mercy on me.

Or was I lucky enough that my bad luck is losing the bet?

5th Sun’s Dusk, 4E 201

I was born in Cyrodiil to a Nord father and mother. Father was a blacksmith and mother was teaching magic and how to use spells correctly in the Mages Guild. Mother and father are something I regret to have in this world. They keep fighting over me because I am their best child ever, I regretted it positively. Being in a family where all of its members are busy and not properly taken care of, I managed to hang out with the Thieves’ Guild and the Dark Brotherhood, not something I want to, really. I spent my whole twelve years of life learning magic, history of Tamriel, and things that only scholars do. Then I spent another two years being a cat burglar that became my side job. I’d be proud to say that I am Chaotically Lawful.

The Adventurer woke up. “Hey, what are you doing with my diary?”

The Healer replied. “I’m just looking at your beautiful handwritten letters, I promise.”

“May I take a look at it? I remember that I can’t write like a calligrapher.” The Adventurer said while commanding the Healer to give him the book.

The Healer conceded. “Okay, okay!” she confessed. “I write a bit of myself in your book without your permission. I’m sorry.”

The Adventurer hugged the Healer. “As long as you don’t spill it with anything, it’s okay.”

The Healer blushed. “Thank you. I promise.”

The Adventurer walks out from his tent and looking at the stars. “It has been less than a month, but I can’t stand with this anonymity. My name’s Jack.”

The Healer sat down beside Jack, looking at the stars while resting her head on Jack’s shoulder. “My name’s Angela. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jack complimented Angela’s name. “What a beautiful name, Angela.”

Angela raised her pointing finger. “May I ask you about why you always look at the stars every night?”

“Well, I noticed that the Nine lost two stars, and that’s why I love to see the night’s sky.”

“Why did they lost two stars? We humans cannot think how much stars they’ve lost, right?”

Jack stopped for a bit, drinking his Argonian Ale. “Angela...” he continued. “The Nine envied of your eyes. So they gave that two stars for you to enjoy.”

“Aww, that’s very sweet of you, Jack.”

I swear Kynareth knows how to make us hooked up. Dibella and Mara seem envious of Her who united us beneath her plane.

Beneath the night’s sky...

Under the Auroras...

Wrapped by Masser and Secunda...

With the wind calming enough for us to enjoy…

For us to take care of each other.

Day 1: Alternate Universe.

#writing #fanfiction #mercy76week #mercy76 #mercy76week2 #mercy76day1 #Skyrim!AU #Jack Morrison #Angela Ziegler #Mercy #Soldier76 #Overwatch

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gontagokuhara · 7 years

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a lil birdie told me u like talking bout ur trip pls I wanna hear what France n Spain r like :ooo (I love ur writing btw :>)

HI!!!!!

so. like ive said, i went to france and spain a few months back and it was an Amazing Time. theres so much to talk about and i dont want to flood dashboards so ill put this under a read more :0

france:

-our group spent 2 hours in customs in charles de gaulle airport. it was hot, the middle of the night my regular time, about 9 am france time, and by the time we got out of customs it was nearly 11:30-that was like…..the only low point? th organization we travelled through groups up smaller groups into large groups (like 40-50 people?) and we were waiting on the other groups from ohio, oregon, and new jersey (remember those groups, they become important later) for another like 3ish hours? -the airport was rly interesting though! it was all of the kids in our groups first exposure to an environment that wasnt all in english, so it gave us time to practice our french listening to announcements/buying stuff/etc! there was also. a lot of green berets with assault rifles all over the place (and they were really all over france. im not sure what theyre about but theyre Everywhere)-around 2-3 we get on a bus with the new jersey + ohio groups and go to notre dame cathedral! the first thing we noticed leaving the airport was that it is hot as balls in france. its humid and the sun is oppressive as hell but the Big Plus was that there are. literally 0 bugs. i didnt see a single bug my whole trip it was fucking amazing-our first day was pretty lowkey; we basically just went to notre dame, broke for lunch, and then hung out in that general area until dinner!-our second day in france was Very Jam Packed with shit and was simultaneously my favorite and least favorite day? our plan was to ascend the eiffel tower in the morning and visit versailles in the afternoon, but the eiffel tower was closed bc of a security issue so we flipped our schedule!-we toured all around versailles palace and while it was very interesting and beautiful i lowkey had an anxiety attack bc people kept holding onto me and grabbing me and it was very hot and overwhelming. things really looked up when we looked around the gardens!-after that + lunch we went back to the eiffel tower and got to go up at night!!! which was beautiful. also, it doesnt get dark in france Or spain until like 10 pm? its very odd but really really cool! and it makes you feel less tired. our curfew was a little earlier than we thought so we couldnt make the line to go to the very top, but we went to the middle section and i have some Iconique selfies up there. when we went down again we bought some stuff at the little gift shops and i got the best slushie ive ever had and it was super fun:0-third day was a pretty long bus tour and then the louvre! the bus tour yielded like 300 pictures and the only thing me nd my mom rly cared about was seeing the mona lisa, so we hung out the rest of the time in shops and stuff!-fourth day we took a bullet train from paris to avignon and honestly the most iconic bit of that day was running around the train stop stores and buying all the french candy we could find. after that we went to pont du gard and toured the area around there, which was really beautiful! also? the toilets in pont du gard? Do Not Have Toilet Paper. dont even have paper towels. not even because theyre out, but like. theres no toilet paper holders or anything. -after that (same day!) was provence! we toured an old structure the first part of provence, and then shopped the rest! unfortunately i got really sick at the end of that day (but not before i bought Ten Bars Of Soap)-the fifth day i was nearly fuckin dead with sickness lol so i stayed behind in the hotel ;( i got to reconnect with friends on the shitty wifi that day though! (blows smooches at the jump discord)-sixth day we had like. a 5 hour bus ride from th south of france to barcelona. i listened to a Lot Of Muic.

spain:

-we didnt have time for really anything by the time we got to barcelona, but that was okay because i think we all really needed the day to recharge!-first full day in barcelona we toured the area around la sagrada familia ! we didnt get to get that close but i have really beautiful pictures! we also went to the picasso museum that day which was…..really boring. me and my friends were dying in there. we got separated from the ohio group (aka the cool group) and we got stuck with the new jersey group which succed but whateevr! after that we hung around in the city for a while before going back-the second day in barcelona was probably my favorite of the whole trip, which is kind of weird to say because i loved paris so much? but i think my kinda sour experience at versailles ust barely edges out that day as my favorite, so! we toured park guell (which is GOREGOUS) and it was great because the heat wasnt that bad And our tour leader got to see his wife!!! me and my mom got fuckin lost lol and we had to navigate through with shitty spanish to find our group. after that we went to this giant mall (seriously, its like 5 stories) that used to be a giant arena but they converted! most of the group went to a flamenco show, but me, my friend kiya, my french teacher and his daughter passed so we could explore the mall. me nd kiya fucked off and i showed her around lush for like a half hour, she bought a bunch of comics in spanish and we bought a whole lot of other shit!!! it was super super fun and it was probably my favorite day-our last full day we went to the beach! and christ this post is long enough already but someone remind me to tell the wild fucking story that is the beach in barcelona girls in relation to the oregon girls, lack of card checking, and the yelling match between a blanket salesman and an ohio chaperone. it’s fucking nuts.-and then we flew home at like 2 am! theres a whole other layer to the light home that i wont go into detail on here becasue God This Is So Long, but if any1 is interested on some of the more minor details of the trip please shoot me an ask i love talking abt my trip:0

#ask #i #this got so long im sorry? but tbh this is just bare bones our itinerary. theres so much missing #but i will actually make tumblr poop itself if i try to cram it all into one post #blease if u are interested in the little details of the trip please lmk I Want An Excuse To Talk About It #also answering this ask made me rly happy. thank u anon

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gxldentrio · 7 years

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top 5 and bottom 5 kudos fics

tagged my actual soulmate @hiddenpolkadots who i love very much and whose fics cleanse my soul and clear my skin on the daily

rules: tag the person who tagged you, always post the rules, answer the questions, and add the date!

(ps: this was a RLY close call considering i have exactly 10 works posted on ao3. some of these i wrote a while ago but i only created ao3 last summer)

What are your five most popular works? (in descending order)

1. Tequila After Midnight Drives Loneliness Away (jily, 1.2k, posted 12/08/16)

She ought to turn off her notifications and go to sleep, and yet there's something about the hulk that keeps her awake (and she swears it's the tequila talking).

tbh i was surprised to see this here. it’s not that i don’t like it, because i do and i think it’s moderately funny, but it’s not my favourite. but it has texting and hulk references, so i guess i get it

2. Talk Me Down (jily, 39.6k as of august ‘17, posted 19/06/16)

James is determined to stay away from short, freckled redheads. Lily, having had enough drama for a lifetime, is equally resolved to avoid dark-haired troublemakers. But he rarely does what he ought, and she is too stubborn for her own good. It should be an interesting year.

this one, i’m not surprised to see here. it’s a multichapter, and even though get tired of working on it sometimes, i’m SO proud of it and i’ve given this so much time and energy

3. Hearts Don’t Break Around Here (jily, 1.8k, posted 26/04/17)

Prompt: you’re trying to toilet train your 20 pound cat and you sent me this photo and now I can’t stop crying out of laughter in public.

it’s short and sweet and it features algernon, so i guess it deserves a spot on the podium

4. i got you this rose and i need to know (jily, 2.4k, posted 26/06/17)

“She’s all looks, Petunia is. Tall, thin, elegant. Sheets of blonde hair frame her face, white and pink pearls adorn her pale neckline. And when her eyes squint and her teeth show—that’s when Lily knows she’s in trouble.”

this is one of my favourite fics i have ever written. it’s fake dating and there’s a lot of petunia, who i always find awesome to write, so i’m happy that it’s here

5. It’ll Kill Me Every Day (jily, ~2k, posted 31/12/16)

Oh, everywhere that I go I see your face and it kills me to know That you'll never know what you did to me And now you're gone

see, this i was surprised by. i like it, and it’s definitely somewhat good, but imo i’ve written better? anyway i posted it at a good time so that may have had something to do with it. the fact that its a popular trope (soulmate au) may have as well

What are your five least popular works? (in ascending order)

1. There's a reason for all those love songs (jily, 1.1k, posted 05/08/16)

"If you asked James Potter at what point he figured out that he was absolutely in love with Lily Evans, he wouldn't be able to give you a straight answer. If you asked Lily Evans when exactly she decided that maybe Potter wasn't so bad, she would give you a simple answer: that maybe deep down, she had known it all along."

this i was definitely not surprised by. it’s my least favourite fic i have on ao3, and i posted it to ffn in 2015, so my writing has changed a lot sinced then

2. Meliora (jily, 4k (as of august ‘17), posted 07/08/16)

A collection of unrelated drabbles focused on James, Lily and at times, the other Marauders.

i was also not surprised to see this here. it’s a drabble collection aka where i dump all the short ficlets i write that aren’t long enough for me to post on their own. there’s definitely some gems in there though

3. Young, Living With No Fear (jily, 2.6k, posted 31/07/17)

‘I'm egging your house for a dare but your parent is a cop and they’re yelling at me so i told them that you were my ex and you wronged me and now you’re coming outside and please go along with this i don’t want to go to jail’ AU

i love this fic. i worked so so hard on it, but i guess it makes sense that it’s here since it’s so recent. anyway i love it and im super proud of it

4. Of Cappuccinos, Super Heroes and American Presidents (jily, 1k, posted 05/08/16)

The plan had been to get in, get coffee, get out and never return. The ever-original coffee shop AU. JP/LE One shot.

the only reason why i can see this being more popular than the previous fic is that everyone is a slut for coffee shop AUs

5. Red, and Green, and Gold (jily, 1.4k, posted 05/10/16)

A thousand miles seems pretty far // But they've got planes and trains and cars // I'd walk to you if I had no other way

while i love this (LOVE this) i understand that it’s here, because while it’s at the top 5 bottom fics, i only have 10, nd so it really means that it’s at the top 6 fics, which i think i stand by. i loved writing it and i love reading it and it makes me happy

tagging @fetchalgernon @bantasticbeasts @yulbos @snapslikethis and @cupcakeblake

#txt #tag game #about me #my writing #ria rambles #fetchalgernon #bantasticbeasts #yulbos #snapslikethis #cupcakeblake #hiddenpolkadots

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impossibleleaf · 7 years

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Now the puzzle, will save the plane

Back in EMP land, Sherlock is dying and Eurus needs to land the plane if she wants to survive. And while she is rightfully worried and John about to drown, Sherlock is pulling out of his ass a stupid solution for Eurus’ song. That’s when we start saying that ‘Eurus’ really had time to lose to grave these tombstones in order to fit that song.

But, really, the correct answer is ‘Eurus created that song in a way to explain the wrong dates’. The song isn’t a puzzle, it’s the solution needed because the graves are the puzzle that fascinated Sherlock as a child.

A fake gravestone where Nemo Holmes was ‘buried’. But really, Nemo was no one.

Or nobody. There was no body.

You can’t really face your own grave, can you? Unless you have a TARDIS, all you can do is have a gravestone with your name on it and no date of death. You’re still not dead so the dates will be necessarily wrong.

Basically, if you want to survive, you need to figure out the contradiction your gravestone is telling you. Show the inconsistencies and reveal it as a fake.

Here starts the puzzle. Now that the inconsistencies are laid bare, you need to find how that can tell you how to survive.

SHERLOCK: The wrong dates, she used the wrong dates on the gravestones as the key to the cipher and the cipher was the song.

Here, Stupid Sherlock strikes again.

The reverse is what happened.

Do you know what an Ottendorf code is? You have a set of numbers and they refers to a word of a page of a very specific book. We are facing a book cipher, not dissimilar to an Ottendorf.

The cipher is the graveyard, the key is the song.

The graves represent the number of the stanza and the numbers the words used in said stanza in ascending order. If you start with a number like 28 and then use 1, that just means you need to use the last stanza above (word 28).

Grave 1 (Stanza 1): 134-1719 -> 1 3 4 17 19 I AM LOST HELP ME

Here we can’t do 13 because we have 4 after, nor 34, so 1 3 4, now we are in the two digits 17 and 19

Grave 2 (Stanza 2): 28.9.1520 -> 28 9 15 20 BROTHER SAVE MY LIFE

We could have 2, 8, 9, 15 and 20 but then you get NOT SHADE SAVE MY LIFE, so 28 it is.

Grave 3 (Stanza 3): 1818 24 26 -> 1 8 18 24 26 BEFORE MY DOOM I AM

No choice is there? You can use the last like of the last stanza but that’s is so no 18. 1 8 and 18

Grave 4 (Stanza 4): Nemo Holmes: 1617-1822 32 -> 16 17 18 22 32 MY SOUL SEEK MY ROOM

If it’s 1, 6 and 17, It’s WITHOUT BEFORE SOUL, so 16 and the rest follows

You’ll notice that there is a part of the final message missing, so there is a grave missing.

GRAVE 4.0.0: LOST WITHOUT YOUR LOVE SAVE

So grave 4.0.0 should be : 28 1 2 3 8 in any combination.

What can we have then?

2/8/1238? 28/12/38? 2812 age 38? Age 28 1238? 2812-38? 28.1.238?

The grave stones aren’t real, the numbers are wrong, but at minimum they give for a second an illusion of reality. Yes, there are two centuries of difference, but you won’t have many graves stones starting in the 29th century. Also we can’t start with the age of the dead Holmes, this comes only at the end.

You can have 2/8/1238, or even something like 28/12/38 or 28/1/238 but there is another option I want to point out.

2/8/12, Age 38.

Here lies Mr. Holmes, born on the 6th of January 1974 who died the 2nd of August 2012 at 38.

I admit, I’m not using John’s blog to estimate Sherlock’s “deathday” because, mainly, Watson was always shit at keeping track of dates.

But we need another Holmes grave, one that is the fakest fake to have ever faked the word. Also, it’s the only things that makes sense. Why wouldn’t they show the final grave needed if the numbers used were so pointless?

They gave us a solution that is missing a fifth of the answer, and not the least important because this is where we get the answer ‘LOST WITHOUT YOUR LOVE SAVE’.

So, the secret behind Sherlock’s grave, the one thing that turned his own grave into a pure architectural joke and not a genuine thing, the one thing that made sure that Sherlock is still alive is Love.

By solving these fake deaths, Sherlock found the answer to save the plane before it crashes and creates a far more genuine grave.

SHERLOCK: Help me, brother, save my life, before my doom. I am lost without your love, save my soul, seek my room.

Without Sherlock’s love, Eurus won’t be able to find her way home, back to London and the ground.

Twice already Sherlock tricked death in two finale, twice love is what gave Sherlok the means to survive. He just needs to do it again.

Love conquers all, even death.

#sherlock #meta #sherlock meta #the final problem #the musgrave ritual #tfhc

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jaredkleinmanisanerd · 7 years

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my kink is evan getting flustered over pizza boi connor murphy w a ponytail and a heartbreaking smile please nd thank

same, dude, same

It all starts in the spring of his junior year.

Evan’s puttering around the kitchen, laptop opened on thecounter, checking the cabinets and the refrigerator for what must be the thirdtime in the hopes that food will magically appear and he’ll be able to avoidordering anything. Sadly, the only thing resembling sustenance is a package offreeze burned fish sticks and eating those would be a one-way ticket to Dr.Sherman’s office. Or the emergency room.

Preferably the emergency room.

Evan pulls the plastic bag holding the fish sticks out oftheir box, opening it and grimacing when an overwhelming fishy scent wafts outof the container. To be completely honest, Evan isn’t entirely sure they even are fish sticks; they look like arubbery, discolored parody of fish sticks. Despite being in the freezer for anunfathomable length of time—because Evan swears the fish sticks have been inthere since he was in elementary school, at least—they’re mushy and soft in theworst way.

If he eats these, there is a high probability that he willactually die. While the whole dying thing doesn’t sound like the worst thingthat could happen, Evan would rather not go out over a couple of spoiled fishsticks, you know?

Plus, if he didn’t die, his mom would move up hisappointment with Dr. Sherman and she’d get all upset over Evan refusing toorder food like a normal person and she’d do that thing where she’s like “maybeI should take a break from classes for a while, I’m worried about you, bud” andEvan would have to spend an hour convincing her that he’s fine, that she doesn’tneed to drop out of school, that he’s a semi-functional teenage boy who cankeep himself alive while she’s at class. And that’s just. A lot of stuff hedoesn’t need right now.

With a deep sigh, Evan returns the fish sticks to thefreezer to be agonized over another day and pulls up the website for the pizzaplace he and his mother order from. It’s a local chain, so they only startedtaking online orders about a year ago, which is when his mom switched fromstocking the kitchen with bread and peanut butter so he could make himselfsandwiches to leaving a crumpled twenty on the table for him to order out.Because, you know, ordering online takes out the whole talking on the phonething, which Evan hates with a passion because talking on the phone is stupid,you can’t see the other person’s expression so you don’t know if they’re angryor sad or what, and sometimes it’s hard to hear the other person and you keephaving to ask them to repeat themselves and eventually you just give up andpretend you understand what’s going on even though you still don’t know whatthey said—but, anyways, his mom figured that cutting out the talking on thephone bit would mean that Evan would have no problem ordering pizza. Which waswrong. Incorrect. False.

You see, when the pizza delivery person arrives to yourhouse, you have to retrieve the pizza from them and give them your money andthen if you don’t have exact change—Evan never has exact change—you have towait for them to make change and hand it back and then you have to give themtheir tip and this whole time you’re supposed to be making small talk andsmiling so you don’t seem like a completely pathetic human being who can’t keepup a conversation about traffic on a Wednesday afternoon.

Evan hates that part. He hates how he accidentally fumbleswhen he’s exchanging the dollar bill for the pizza, he hates how all he canmanage to get out when the pizza guy says something is a nervous “mmhm,” hehates how he nearly drops the change on the ground, he hates how he never knowswhat an appropriate tip is, he hates—he hates all of it, the whole stupid exchange, so he avoids it. Because that’swhat people do when they hatesomething, they avoid it and try to pretend it’s fine that they do.

The mouse hovers over the order button. He doesn’t want todo this. He really doesn’t want to dothis. He can’t do this.

He presses the button.

The page telling him how long it’ll be before the pizza getshere pops up and Evan can’t decide if an hour wait is better or worse than theusual half hour wait. He gets to put off the inevitable social interaction withthe pizza delivery guy for longer, but he also has more time to obsess over itand wish that time travel was a thing so he could go back about twenty secondsand stop himself from ordering the pizza.

Evan settles in on the couch in the living room so that he’sonly a couple feet from the door, ready to pop up the moment the pizza guysteps on the porch. The twenty dollar bill remains clenched in his hand,slightly moist because of its contact with his damp hands, but he’d rather handover a sweaty bill than have to run around the house trying to find the moneywhen the guy gets here. Evan’s tempted to watch some YouTube videos to try tocalm himself down—something with cute cats or maybe a funniest vinecompilations, those are always nice—but he doesn’t want to start watchingsomething and then get all absorbed in it and not hear the doorbell. Then thepizza guy would start banging on the door and Evan would freak out because he’dthink it’s an axe murderer and then he’d end up hiding in his room until thepizza guy leaves and then the pizza guy would have to pay for Evan’s pizzahimself and the pizza place would blacklist Evan and never let him order fromthere ever again and his mom would be crushed because she says that’s the bestpizza in town and then she’d kick him out of the house because he’s anincompetent loser who got them banned from a pizza place because he couldn’tjust wait to watch cat videos and—

The doorbell rings once, twice, three times. Evan takes adeep breath, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat and fix his ragged breathing.Well. Almost having an anxiety attack is one way to pass the time for the pizzaguy to get there.

Evan wipes his hands on his sweatpants and walks over to thedoor, frowning when the pizza guy rings the doorbell for the fourth time. Hegets that delivery people have a schedule but the guy barely gave him tenseconds to reach the door before he rang the bell again. Evan takes a second toopen the door, trying to pull it open before realizing that it’s locked andfumbling to undo the deadbolt before the pizza guy makes his impatience knownonce more by laying on the buzzer because Evan’s already more than a littlestressed with the four rings, he’d rather not make it five.

He overestimates how much force he needs to use to open thedoor—he guesses that his mom finally got their neighbor to fix the hinges so itwon’t stick as bad anymore—and so it flings open a little more dramaticallythan necessary, making Evan’s face burn. This is why he shouldn’t order pizza.

The delivery boy merely raises an eyebrow at the flung opendoor, acting as if someone violently opening a front door isn’t particularlyunusual, and Evan is—well.

He’s still embarrassed, yeah, but he doesn’t have much roomin his brain to be fretting over his inability to function like a normal personbecause the pizza guy is just. Really attractive.

“Evan Hansen?” The pizza guy has a really nice voice too.

Evan spends longer than is socially acceptable staring atthis guy, only coming back to himself when the other boy’s lips quirk up slightlyin a smug little smile and repeats his name. “Oh, um, y-yeah, that’s, uh, that’s,”Evan takes a deep breath. “I’m Evan. Hansen.”

“Cool. 10.63.”

Evan’s motions are jerky and spastic as he hands over thetwenty dollar bill and accepts the awkwardly shaped pizza box. He’s sure hisface is bright red and he can feel his hands getting sweatier by the second andhis only hope at this point is that he can get out of this situation before he embarrasseshimself in front of this unfairly cute delivery guy.

Well. You know, embarrasses himself worse than he alreadyhas.

The guy—Connor, his name tag reads—Connor is about to hand him back his change, which he made veryfast and without any small talk at all and Evan thinks that he wouldn’t mindgetting his pizzas delivered by this guy if he wasn’t so handsome. Is thatdiscriminatory against attractive people? Attractive people just make hisanxiety skyrocket, and Evan doesn’t need anything else to make his anxiety anyworse. He’s doing that just fine by himself.

“Um, you can, uh—you can just keep the, the change. Thanks.”Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why are you sofucking stupid?

“That’s a nine dollar tip, you realize that, right?” Connor’stone seems to suggest that he too finds Evan’s actions idiotic, but Evan’salready committed to doing it now and he feels like it’s weird to backpedal nowand basically take away the money he’s already given Connor.

“Mmhm. Yeah.” Evan nods jerkily to emphasize his point andhe has the weird feeling that he probably looks like a bobble head right now. Great. Evan Hansen, master of firstimpressions.

“Okay,” Connor says, but he says it less like just ‘okay’and more like ‘okaaaaaay’ which makes Evan think that he’s being even weirder andstupider than he thinks he’s being and he thinks he’s being really weird andstupid already so Evan must have like. Ascended to a higher level of weirdness andstupidity than was previously known to mankind. “Have a nice night, Evan.” Andjust like that Connor’s leaving his porch, heading back to the car parked onthe curb outside of Evan’s house.

“You—you too!”

Before Evan slams his door and starts berating himself forhow incredibly awkward he was being, because wow was he being awkward, he catches a glimpse of a ponytail peekingout of the back of Connor’s uniform hat and he can only imagine how gorgeousConnor must look with his hair down.

Evan collapses on the couch, pizza box in hand, and trieshis best to just. Pretend none of that happened.

While he’s shoveling the gooey, cheesy pizza into his mouthand watching some weird prank video Jared sent him the link to, Evan thinksback on the little smug smile Connor made when Evan was gawking at him like acomplete imbecile. It was—it was a reallynice smile.

He wouldn’t mind seeing that again.

And he does when he orders pizza on Friday. Then on Monday.Then on Thursday. Then a couple times a week every week for the rest of thesemester. And most of the summer.

Evan decides that maybe ordering pizza isn’t so bad afterall.

#deh #tree bros #connor is probably ooc as HECK and i'm sorry about that #hamsterritos #requests

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theficdoctor-blog · 7 years

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Creative Writing Do’s and Don’t’s

Warning: This is the Editor in me that’s speaking. It’s going to be harsh, but when you’re writing, harsh is what you need.

My first creative writing instructor gave us an exercise on the first day of my Intro to Creative Writing class. I swear on my life this exercise will improve your writing instantly. If you just want the list, click the “keep reading”. Open a word document. Write down a few genres. Write down some clichés that makes those genres what they are and include a highly-genre’d example with it. Write as many as you can. Here’s a small example to build on:

Romance (Twilight)

The love triangle

“Their tongues battled for dominance”

The inevitable misunderstanding as a final attempt to inject drama before the resolution

Fantasy (Jupiter Ascending)

A highly detailed world/history

The chosen one

A super special important treasure/artifact/prophecy

Mystery (Scooby Doo (the live action movies))

The ”dun dun DUUUUUN” moment

The film noir style

The assistant who contributes just enough to the mystery so the detective can have all the glory and figure everything out in its entirety

Done with your list? Good. Kiss those vapid love triangles goodbye, send your needlessly convoluted history away, and dump the “dun dun DUUUUN” moment. They’re all USELESS until you learn how to properly twist them into something you can stomach. Relying on clichés kills creativity and promotes laziness. This list is highly condensed and should be used as a bare-bones reference.

When you write your stories...

DON’T:

Use clichés.

Unless you can mutate a cliché well enough to make it original (/make it your own), avoid them at all costs. They are writing suicide.

Fall in love with your work.

It’s important to feel pride in your work, but every word, every sentence, every phrase has to earn its keep. If something isn’t helping the story, cut it out; it’s useless and wastes the reader’s (and your) time.

Drench your work in purple prose.

Purple prose and excessive imagery are for prose poetry, not fiction writing. Purple prose doesn’t do anything but stroke your ego. Take, for instance, this sentence: “Luna felt her gasp caress her dainty trachea similarly to how her father cradled her in his strong, loving arms on her blessed and most anticipated day of birth, making her also remember the way, Reggie, her first boyfriend would lovingly embrace her under the moonlit glow and the cherry trees deep in the sticky, heavy summer nights of her teen years.” Chill. If you can’t say a sentence in one breath, it’s not worth keeping. This is an exposition dump. The reader has to drag their feet through it. It slows the narrative down to an agonizing pace. Just say “she gasped.” There’s no shame in using simplistic language if you know how to use it. For instance, gasping is a fast movement. You want the reader to feel the fast movement—that’s why it’s best to just say “she gasped.” She shouldn’t be stuck in a gasp for ten minutes.

Put your first draft on a pedestal.

I don’t care if you’re Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, Shakespeare, Karen Russell, or Anne Rice; your first draft is always awful. Edit it, polish it, love it, commit to it. If that sounds like “too much,” then you’re gonna be stuck with writing crap, and I don’t ever wanna hear “I wish I was a better writer,” because I’m telling you right this second that you’ll never improve if you always accept your first draft as gospel.

Dump exposition on the reader.

There’s always going to be at least one writer that forces their character into a soliloquy about how “their entire village was burned down by thieves and murderers, and only they were left standing because their sainted mother tucked them away in a magical tree trunk which was blessed by whatever deity is in charge of this world.” OR, alternatively, “James climbs into Reggie’s window one day while Reggie is working at the coffee shop, finds Reggie’s diary, and reads about how Reggie was tragically in love with his twin sister before his abusive father killed both his twin sister and his mother before his eyes, and that is why Reggie is always so determined to find happiness in everything around him because he can’t bear to think back on the horrors of his past without going into seizures or spasms.” Let things unfold organically and at their own pace. Let characterization tell the story, not your general plan.

Rely on misunderstandings.

I swear that misunderstandings can be a whole sub-genre in itself for how often they’re abused. Usually, misunderstandings are used so James and Reggie will get angry at each other, Luna has to point out that they were both wrong, and James has to run through the airport after Reggie’s train (security be damned) with tears pouring down his cheeks in a desperate attempt to get Reggie back (who also dramatically brushes tears from his eyes) before he flies back to Idontknowwhereizstan for forever.

Focus on death (for the pure enjoyment of making your readers shriek “NOOOO”).

It’s lazy. It skews the stakes of your story, making all the other stakes boring. EVERYONE kills off their characters. No one’s “evil” or funny for doing it. It’s become cliche. Either start a story with death or eradicate it altogether because what’s important is the aftermath—the character development. Never ever focus on death. I don’t care what a saint little Suzie is; she’s not allowed to die from her terminal cancerheartattacklupusitis until you’ve made her human. And even then you’re not allowed to end the story with her dying either—Reggie has to be there at her bedside with the chocolate cake she’s been dreaming about having for six years. And you have to show that aftermath.

Use the same voice for every character and the narrative.

I know it’s very tempting to use the long-winded, intricate tone of The Whimsical Author, but I assure you that giving all your characters and narrative that voice will indeed hammer the final nail into the coffin on your writing career. I don’t care how smart The Author of Whimsy sounds, the Monty Python Babbling is way more interesting and varied. Your characters are ideas. You breathe life into them. They take on life of their own. If you use the same voice for everything, you’re telling your readers you can’t write worth a damn but you know what sounds kinda pretty.

Shove your characters in a corner.

This is one of the most common causes of writer’s block. If you’ve shoved your characters in a corner, you’ve stripped them of their organic movement. Characters will move and function on their own. You have to let them breathe and meander; that’s what will ensure that you’ll get a great story out of them. I don’t care how much you want James to sob and throw himself into Reggie’s arms so Reggie will save him from the school bully and also kiss James. James isn’t that kind of person. James is too prideful.

Use “(s)he felt…”

The best way to kick your reader away from their screen and scream “YOU’RE READING A STORY WRITTEN BY ME, SOMEONE. I EXIST. THESE ARE JUST CHARACTERS. YOU’RE READING SOMETHING FAKE” is to use “(s)he felt,” or “(s)he heard,” or “(s)he smelled.” It’s best to just outright state the feeling, sound, or smell rather than insist the reader see everything through the characters’ eyes. You want to draw the reader in. How can you do that if you constantly remind them they’re scrolling through AO3, trying to find more fics specifically about James and Reggie ignoring the canon and falling into each other’s arms five sentences in? “Heat radiated from his hand,” “The oven timer shrieked,” and “The scent of charcoaled biscuits filled the room” yank the reader into the scene to stand beside the characters and watch them up close.

Rely on adverbs.

The adverb is the lazy writer’s way to generate description. Take, for instance, this sentence: “Reggie scarily placed his hand by James’s head and glared at him.” Yeah, you shoved Reggie’s anger in our faces, and we have no idea what James is doing. Instead: “Reggie smacked his hand against the wall, snatching James’s attention away from Luna.” We don’t even need Reggie’s glare to know he’s mad in this context. This way, we can explore a greater range of emotions by carefully selecting our words based on connotations and speed. Jealousy, panic, varying attentions, varying reading speeds, and so on.

Use the “dun, dun, DUUUUN” moment.

I’m serious about this one. Nothing makes your story quite so flimsy, clichéd, and cartoony as the “dun, dun, DUUUN” moment. I’ve seen this moment plenty of times in workshops, and every time I have to struggle to be nice and say “maybe that makes your story seem a little clichéd. It’d give it more depth if it were open-ended or more realistic.” Don’t get me wrong. These were not incompetent writers by any stretch of the imagination. They just didn’t know what to stay away from sometimes. Writing this infamous moment into your story is the equivalent of euthanizing it and ensuring it looks like Floops’s Fooglies from Spy Kids as it goes down.

Use whatever tense or POV you want whenever you feel like it.

You can absolutely use 2nd person present tense for your story, but realize that, that sort of craft element is best kept to flash fiction-length stories. A reader (unless they’ve read Homestuck) will have a hard time reading 2nd person present tense for 12 chapters. 3rd person is nice and easy. 1st person allows you to cheat your way towards better inner-reflections for characters. Present tense indicates a sense of panic (it disallows moments for reflection). Past tense allows you to take your time. Whatever you decide to tackle, make sure you choose the right tense and point of view and stick to it. You cannot jump to whatever tense you feel like every other paragraph; there has to be a reason.

DO:

Let the characters lead the story

Time and time again I’ve seen writers get frustrated because their characters won’t conform to what they’ve planned. We forget that our characters are not dolls to play with. It’s good—GREAT, even—when your characters create a clear path for themselves! Your character knows their story. Let them guide you through it.

Remember that a writer records their characters, not forces them.

It’s hard to get a story to feel natural, yes, but if you just sit and watch your characters, they’ll tell you what to write. You don’t have to put a ton of brain power into it; it’s instinct. Keep your hands off that steering wheel. Just scribble down exactly how James’s nail taps against the wheel in frustration as Reggie leans his entire upper body out the window to demand the name of that corgi sitting on the sidewalk.

ALWAYS write literary realism.

You’re banned from genres. You have to write literary realism now. Literary realism is a record of characterization and of life progressing naturally. No clichés allowed unless you can spin them. If you can realistically see your character fitting in a Saturday morning cartoon, you’re doing it wrong.

Give your characters idiosyncrasies.

“Idiosyncrasies” boils down to odd habits and gives a lot of character with little effort on your part. This is an example of letting the character lead the story. If you don’t know enough idiosyncrasies off the top of your head, go people-watching. Why do they act the way they act? Why would Reggie cry when presented with chocolate cake? Why would Luna click her car lock button precisely four times every time she leaves it? How does James drink his soda? Why would a chin lift from Reggie make his dog instantly protective?

Be patient.

The tools you have at your disposal are versatile and vast. You have so much more to work with than you know; it’s overwhelming. Take some time and get familiar with your style. Be patient, you’ll get it.

Set deadlines.

It’s hard for me to write every day so I write one chapter every week. You must do this to keep your tools sharp and strong. It also helps to look up writing exercises (specifically from The 3 A.M. Epiphany by Brian Kiteley; obey that word count.)

EDIT. ALWAYS EDIT. ALWAYS. EDIT. ALWAYS.

I can’t stress this enough. I don’t care if that sentence is the best one you’ve ever written. Take it out if it doesn’t help your story. I don’t care how nice the word ‘paraphernalia’ is, your 5-year-old character won’t know how to use it appropriately; it’ll throw off the reader. It’s not gonna make the kid seem smart; it’s gonna stick out like a sore thumb and announce that you have no idea how characterization works. If you’re not gutting and re-gutting your drafts, you’re not doing it right. Sometimes you have to break it down to dust and rebuild in order to make it perfect—in order to make it something you can be proud of.

Remember that every first draft is garbage (don’t worry about it).

If you can’t start your story or chapter, just write garbage (this works for school papers, too). Just write the worst first draft you can. It’s always easier to edit a physical document than it is to write something perfect from the ground up. It’s also a huge time-saver.

Write when you feel inspiration hit (because there’s no guarantee it’ll stay or come back).

Write your story from the final scene all the way back to the beginning if you must. The order doesn’t matter (of course this is why you always edit). You’ll never be in a constant state of inspiration for a scene. Write it while you can. You can adjust it to fit in your story when you get there.

Use active voice (don’t fear the simple sentence).

Passive voice makes the reader drag their feet. Using “Reggie was placed on the bed,” “James was stopped by the door,” and “I’ve been told by Luna that my writing has been lacking punch because taking my time is what I insist on doing so I have the ability to show everyone how annoying it is to read slowly” will absolutely burden your reader. It’s okay to use passive voice when you do want things to slow down (maybe during sensual scenes or silence/drama-heavy moments), but using active voice makes it easier on the reader and picks up the pace. “James placed Reggie on the bed.” “Luna smacked the door in James’s face.” “Luna said my writing lost its punch, but I just wanted to show the active voice’s benefits.”

Start your story at the beginning.

Whenever I open up a story, I scroll past the first few paragraphs because the author spends that long telling me what happened with James’s beloved pet cat he had when he was two and how it coughed up hairballs in his tiny shoes, and it is never mentioned again. Or, the author will spend the entire first chapter dumping all the history of their universe on me, so I’ll have to skip to the next one in order to get started. I don’t need your history in the form of a textbook—I don’t want it like that. I want to see it expressed through the characters. I want James to say, “Reggie, you can’t park your bike there. It’s illegal on west-facing streets” rather than see a full chapter with this kind of detail: “Back in the crisp Fall of 1952, there was a gang of 15-year-old bikers who kept the town soaked in fear. Eddie Haskell, the Two-Faced Town Tattler, was the ring leader, picking off people he saw unfit for the image he had for his town. Always, they’d park their bikes along west streets, facing their handlebars towards the sunset to indicate the day when they’d finally burn the place to the ground. This is why it is illegal to park your bike on west-facing streets.” Sure, it’s interesting, but it’s got nothing to do with Reggie and James, you’re never going to bring it up again, and you’ve wasted a paragraph (These things take up like 5 paragraphs usually). If you wanna talk about Eddie Haskell, then tell the story about Eddie Haskell, but if your story is all about Reggie and James getting over their pride and fessing up to each other, then start it there.

Incorporate the three imperative questions:

What are the stakes? Death? No. Get death out of your mind. Think deeper. What happens if the characters don’t get what they want?

What do these characters want? Ice cream, the world, Reggie. Anything. If you develop proper motive, it won’t matter what they want.

What’s the character’s motive? James wants ice cream because it’s hot out.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve exited out of a fic because I just didn’t care. “James killed Eddie.” Okay. So what? I’m supposed to care because James did something shocking? That’s it? How about: “In a fit of fear, Reggie smacked the offered chocolate ice cream cone from James’s hands. The two stared down at the wasted dessert as Reggie’s mind edged back to reality. James looked to Reggie with eyes filled with worry.”

We’ve got stakes (Reggie’s suffering), wants (James wants to give Reggie something nice and keep him comfortable; Reggie doesn’t want chocolate anywhere near him), and the motive (James and Reggie are friends; they care about each other). Every character needs a want, a drive, and stakes in order to be a decent character—a character worth caring about.

Write flash fiction.

Writing flash fiction (stories varying from 100-800 words in length) has helped me tremendously with cutting out any word, phrase, or concept that doesn’t earn its keep. A flash fiction is not a chapter of something. It is a complete story. A flash fiction is a smack of a story or a blast of fireworks. The reader will only have enough time to feel the burn on their cheek or stare in awe as the fireworks disappear into the night sky. Do not use the “once upon a time” 794 words “the end” structure. Flash fiction doesn’t work like that. You can only write enough to get the idea out and developed. Write lots of flash fiction.

Read flash fiction.

Reading flash fiction (since it’s designed to be short) is easy and fast. Flash fiction is filled to the brim with symbolism and interesting concepts (which is what this specific writing form is for). I recommend snatching up Flash Fiction: 72 Very Short Stories edited by James Thomas, Denise Thomas, and Tom Hazuka. The longest flash fiction in there is probably just three pages long. The shortest, I believe, is just over half a page.

#This is just a basic overview #dos and donts of creative writing #advice #writing #creative writing #fan fiction #how to #how to write #how to write creatively #how to write fan fiction

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impossibleleaf · 7 years

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The Final Problem Giga Meta 4/4: from Musgrave to the end

Part 3

From Sherlock falling into black goo, we now have a Sherlock lying as if he’s just fallen and crashed.

There’s something quite strange in the pictures on the wall too: we see little Sherlock and little Mycroft, but we never see pictures of Eurus.

But now that Sherlock has won Eurus’ tests, he can now freely talk to Little Eurus. His puzzles made the plane advance, each time closer to the ground and the fall or landing of the plane.

Now, Eurus reaches the front of the plane and she can see where exactly she is going and can give us actual relevant informations.

Finally, we know and Sherlock says as much: this city is definitively her home.

YOUNG EURUS: I can see a river. And there’s a big wheel. (…) SHERLOCK: Does the river look like it’s getting closer? (…) That means you’re nearly home.

A city with lot of lights, it is night which means that while she stays in the dark during the whole episode, she is now roughly in the same timezone than where Sherlock is. A big city near the sea but with a river leading to it. And a big wheel, don’t forget the big wheel she can see.

That was totally London.

This is the capital of England, it is a monument in itself. But to Eurus who spent her whole life in Sherrinford? That means absolutely nothing and was never home.

And when Sherlock finally faces Musgrave, right after Sherlock told Little Eurus she was nearly home, we get the beginning of an answer.

SHERLOCK: I’m home. Musgrave Hall. EURUS : Me and Jim Moriarty, we got on like a house on fire, which reminded me of home. SHERLOCK: Yeah, it’s just an old building. I don’t care.

Musgrave was home for Eurus, not London. If we think Eurus actually is real, that doesn’t make any sense. It was also home for Sherlock, but not anymore, it’s just stones, an old building and he doesn’t care anymore.

SHERLOCK: Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again. Breathe it in, feel every quiver of its beating heart.

SHERLOCK: I will keep you safe. But it has to be in London. It’s my city; I know the turf.

But London? London is his turf. This is the city that Mycroft has sworn to protect even if there is bound to be collateral damage. This is where Baker Street is, where he does The Work and more importantly where all the people he loves are.

To Sherlock, London is everything because that’s where his heart and everyone he loves are.

It’s only normal that Eurus, his emotions, was going to land there. That’s home, where his heart is.

And finally the metaphor is complete. Sherlock is dying, everything seems hopeless, he is lost and can’t see where he is supposed to go to survive. Eurus is torturing him to let him actually use his sentiments, his heart, and integrate them in his deductions. Add emotional context, it’s all about emotions.

But no matter how painful that was for him to do so, there is now light at the end of the road, and that light leads him to the one place where his heart, where the people he loves are.

SHERLOCK We just need to get in touch with some people on the ground. Now, um, can you see anything that looks like a radio?

And what is a radio except one big complicated phone? What is a phone in Sherlock if not a heart? Sherlock doesn’t know how to land the plane, but someone on the ground does. All they have to do is use the radio and phone London to get contact with the people in it. All he has to do is to open his heart and to ask for their help. Even, if right now, she can’t find the radio.

SHERLOCK: Are you there yet?

JOHN: Yeah I’m here!

Now John is chained at the bottom of a well and we’ve got a three-way conversation. John is answering questions aimed to Little Eurus. It’s not that John is Eurus, it’s that Little Eurus and John are connected. Emotions and the Heart.

LITTLE EURUS: The whole plane’s shaking. SHERLOCK: It’s just turbulence. It’s nothing to worry about. LITTLE EURUS: My ears hurt. SHERLOCK: Does the river look like it’s getting closer? LITTLE EURUS: A-a little bit. SHERLOCK: All right, then. That means you’re nearly home. JOHN: Sherlock? I’m in a well. That’s where I am; I’m in the bottom of a well.

John survival depends on Eurus and Sherlock managing to land the plane and Sherlock solving the puzzle, and vice versa. Because water represents dying in EMP and John is chained and about to drown, while Little Eurus' ears start hurting, meaning that the plane is starting to go down and crash.

Anyway, back with Big Eurus.

EURUS: Sweet Jim. He was never very interested in being alive, especially if he could make more trouble being dead. SHERLOCK: Yeah, still not interested. The plane! EURUS: You knew he’d take his revenge. His revenge apparently is me. SHERLOCK: Eurus, let me speak to the little girl on the plane and I’ll play any game you like. EURUS: First find Redbeard. (...) At long last, Sherlock Holmes, it’s time to solve the Musgrave ritual. Your very first case!

Now, he must solve the Musgrave ritual, because that’s what is ultimately going to save Sherlock, Litlle Eurus and John. Finding out the answer to this puzzle.

JOHN: Yeah, it’s flooding. The well is flooding. SHERLOCK: Try as long as possible not to drown. JOHN: What? SHERLOCK: I’m going to find you. I am finding you! JOHN: Well, hurry up, please, because I don’t have long! LITTLE EURUS: It’s leaning over, the whole plane!

Because it’s now urgent for Sherlock to solve the Musgrave ritual.

The correct answer to the Musgrave ritual isn’t the song is a cipher, it is ‘Eurus created that song in a way to explain the wrong dates’. The song isn’t a puzzle, it’s the solution needed because the graves are the puzzle that fascinated Sherlock as a child.

A fake gravestone where Nemo Holmes was ‘buried’. But really, Nemo was no one. Or nobody. There was no body.

Basically, if you want to survive, you need to figure out the contradiction your gravestone is telling you. Show the inconsistencies and reveal it as a fake.

Here starts the puzzle. Now that the inconsistencies are laid bare, you need to find how that can tell you how to survive.

SHERLOCK: The wrong dates, she used the wrong dates on the gravestones as the key to the cipher and the cipher was the song.

Here, Stupid Sherlock strikes again.

The reverse is what happened.

Do you know what an Ottendorf code is? Better, do you remember The Blind Banker? You have a set of numbers and they refers to a word of a page of a very specific book. This is what we’re facing.