#i have morse code bracelets too

[the-dragon-mizu]

i got glow in the dark pony beads on their way. imma make so many bracelets for this ritual yall

[unnonexistence]

have just discovered that the other half is hunting down bugs

i think about half of learning to code is sitting around puzzled by something going "there HAS to be an easy way to do this" until you remember the right term to google

[currentfandomkick]

Pt2 reincarnated Tim gets the Wail aka Phantom Shrike

Part one here

Virgil let Tim in, leaning against the wall as Tim looked about his room, clearly searching for where to start as his head looked everywhere, largely at the walls and floor, but not directly at Virgil.

“So," Tim began as he wrung with his hands awkwardly. "I’m going to guess you noticed the early reflexes thing and flinching when you use your powers or Nightwing lights up his escrima sticks?”

Vigil raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t need to be a detective to see that a mile away.”

Tim took a seat at last, settling the urge to scream as the beanbag chair engulfed him. “So, Dick told you all about the uh, JJ incident, or do i get to explain that?”

Virgil moved back to his desk, moving his project to the side. “Just that it was bad.”

“It was.” Bad enough to revive a former lifetime and activate his meta gene. “Kind of shot him, but not me? He’s still in a coma from it.”

Tim waited for Virgil’s reaction. Virgil merely turned to face Tim again, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with an unusually neutral expression.

“I, uh, always had a thing with electricity before that.”

Tim fiddled with his hands again. Counting taps in twos and threes. Dad mentioned it after his last anger management session as a grounding technique. Tim found it… useful. For other things. Largely subduing shrieks, and kicking his trauma triggers in the nuts—when he was certain it was rude to break out tetris anyways.

“Mom called it ‘soul memory hugs’, and not to look into it when I was a kid.” Tim continued, tapping out one of his favorite songs in a modified version of morse code.

He remembers going to Janet in the middle of the night, asking where the nice red head girl went, and why she was crying when he got shocked in his sleep and everything went green. Janet just soothed his concerns and reminded him that the Talons don't go for society kids, but maybe the little girl lost someone and Tim reminded her of him. That he was not responsible for the girl and to let her come to him on her own terms, but to keep a few back ups prepared "just in case" and had him sleep with salt in hand and an iron bracelet.

“Didn’t stop the flashes of," he still couldn't adequately describe the flickers of his pre-Tim life. Of a realm made of ectoplasm the way theirs was made of carbon. The sentient food, watching people walk off injuries that should have crippled them, or the Fenton Driving Watch for the weather. Tucker's laugh and his varied PDAs, or Sam's smile promising someone pain. Dani's joy when she stabilized and befriended Val. Val's everything. "Of something,” he finished lamely.

It'd all been so difficult to pin down back then, as it was too vague without the rest of his memories giving context. A hand holding his. Someone protecting him, other times being punched in the arm or patted on his shoulder almost in condolence of some sort.

“Usually just a warm feeling that uh, stuck if it was static, no pun intended!”

Virgil shook his head with a smile, leaning into the cushion of the chair. “Sure thing Rob, keep going.”

“But when I started going out as Robin," it began a bit before, when he was gathering more evidence of Bruce as Batman to validate his threat of exposing Bruce's secret identity if that was the only way to the man to stop and get help. The sense of dejavu and the stray thought of 'Wes is rolling in his grave' that he never could explain away…

"As Robin," Tim repeated after a beat of silence. "and got hit anytime? It, it changed." his taps stopped being to any song at all. Mouth pulled to one flat, Tim continued. "Flickers of something," he leaned his head to one side, before moving it to the other as he spoke. "Became more and bits of something else.”

Virgil leaned back minutely, face starting to tinge with pinches of worry. “Do any of the Bats know about that?”

Tim shook his head. “B wasn’t, uh,” Tim fiddled with his hands more, not taps or morse code. More hand wringing and flexing phalanges. “In any state to even recognize I wasn’t Robin the Second when I started,” he confessed.

Virgil seemed frozen, like he was mentally recoiling as he moved from his chair to perch on his bed to see Tim and be closer to him for some reason. And now far more attentive than the earlier lull.

Tim shrugged off his concern, as it wasn't like anybody was unaware of how badly Bruce took losing Jason, or how badly Batman took flying solo. People are excellent at ignoring inconveniences to them. and a compromised bad was inconvenient to the GEL.

“No one noticed in the field as Robin was still who he called. My job was to deescalate him, not the other way around.”

Virgil pinched his brow. “So your mentor was violent, and you mentored him rather than mentoring you.”

“Yeah, for most of the three years I pieced him back together. He had me go through the ringer and work under a lot of mentors for combat. Some villains too.”

Tim briefly wondered if Lady Shiva’s offer would extend to helping him take out Joker… And if he could live with himself if he did. Joker killed Jason and was a contributing reason to his parents' hesitation to letting him take up a mantel again in Gotham.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to push that thought aside and the relief of it out of his mind. “Didn’t really tell B things until it was mandatory or necessary. And I wasn’t Robin like Dick and Jay were. I wasn’t and won’t be his son. Just the kid pulling his ass out of his own head and enforcing his old code on his ass. With whatever weapon I need to keep others safe.”

“Hey, Rob?" Virgil interrupted. "You do realize what that sounds like out loud, right?” Virgil's form radiated tension.

Tim could only give a strained smile in return. “Dad and Step Mom lectured me on it and not sacrificing myself for someone that can’t even see me, not the people they wish I was.”

Virgil shook his head as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re off patrol in Gotham.”

Tim let out a long exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Dad sort of wasn’t around until after Mom died, and uh, fixed his priorities.”

“Deathlike do it,” Virgil muttered to himself bitterly.

Tim tactfully ignored that as he knew it was something for Virgil to reveal to his family (not being dead) not Tim’s brand of meddling.

“So uh, Dad always knew about the memory hugs, and more recently the uh, flickers? I've been calling the longer and more detailed memory hugs that. A lot of people get flickers of previous lives and shit, so no need to tell Bats when he frankly couldn’t tell ass, elbow and knees apart.”

Virgil whistled long and low. “Cool, cool… so what does that have to do with the Joker Incident and the extra sensory shit you’ve clearly got going on.”

Tim took a deep breath. “Joker uh, used electric shock repeatedly as a way to torture me. Tried to re-write my memories to be his kid, not B's."

Virgil froze.

“Which is ridiculous. If anything, B was my kid." Tim curled his toes as the memories tried to creep back in. He wished that etiquette allowed him to play tetris right now—to distract him from the phantom sensations.

"Same thing happened in the last life and it," he struggled how to articulate the change of impressions and images to the meshing of time and emotional intermingling. "It stopped being flickers."

He bite his inner cheek and could feel the barely noticeable mouth scars pinking as he bit down. All while Virgil's eyes watched his every move. "More, more like flashbacks, I guess. A lot of time being tied down with an asshole demanding I kill my dad and join him as his evil apprentice. Sometimes it was bleeding memories and superimposed images of people I knew then onto people I know now. And it uh, kicked my meta-gene into activating.”

Virgil finally moved, visibly tabling most of what he said. The tension in his own shoulders dropped when he realized he wouldn't have to go back to that horrid laughing place in his mind . “What kinds of activating, and how’d they emerge?”

“A few my step mom clocked—I could hear better and had a larger pitch range that my voice cracking couldn’t hide. Mostly on their own but the uh, scream one is uh, a work in progress on emerging still.”

“So you can hear people coming from further away?” Virgil surmised.

“Not exactly. Its uh, complicated<" Tim let his shoulders and hands do the talking again. "A local eco-terrorist and meta is helping me with where it overlaps on her turf. Apparently plants can hear a lot more than we thought and have opinions on my singing skills. Mainly, that they suck.”

Virgil took a deep breath and looked up. Tim waited for him to give the okay to keep going.

Virgil waved him on once he was done pleading to the ceiling for something to make this more bearable.

“So uh, Ivy is teaching me how to understand plant languages, in exchange for beach cleanups and something I already planned to and had in the works.”

“A rogue is teaching you about your powers, and the adult who you were monitoring in hindsight has no clue.” Virgil rubbed his face before looking up. “And Dick, he looped in?”

“Not yet, I uh, want to know more before becoming a pet project for the extended Bats, you know?”

Virgil conceded that much.

“And its only one aspect the rogue knows! She helps a lot of metas hide their abilities and teaches them how to cope and work with it on their terms. B knows about her doing that and doesn’t interfere with that part of her work. Everyone knows about her doing it.”

“But not regarding you?”

“Its," Tim scrambled to find the right word. "Its complicated.”

“A lot of things with Bats are.”

“Look," Tim held his hands up in surrender. "My dad will go down for attempted murder, if not murder one, if B is around me anymore. I don’t know what they said, but Dad found out about Robin a few weeks after I escaped the JJ incident…”

Virgil paused, face loosening as something clicked. Shoulders slack, he muttered, “you almost died, didn’t you?”

Tim bit his inner cheeks and scars, tapping a littler harder than before. “Legally dead a few times during it, and uh, got to relive the times I died in my last life.”

“How Bad?”

Tim could feel Maddie cutting into him, could see her comparing his insides to Ember’s.

“Mad scientist parents found out I stopped being fully human. It, it was, it was bad.”

“Shit.”

Tim swallowed dryly. “Yeah. Uh, I was hoping, no pressure or obligation, if you’d be okay helping with exposure therapy with electricity. Yours doesn’t sound the same as, as,” Tim felt that urge to scream grow in his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth and used that trick from Fear Toxin.

“Tim?!”Virgil stood up.

5 things he could touch. His mouth, shoes, ground under his feet, the chair he was sitting on, his clothes.

4 things he can see. Virgil, door, poster, desk.

3 things he can hear. His breathing (too quick), Virgil’s static field, hum from the lights.

2 things he can smell. Stress and BO.

1 thing he can taste. His teeth.

Tim dropped his hands as his throat loosened to safe speaking levels as he repeated the steps. “Sorry, just uh, some stress requires screaming now and it, its not safe to be in the blast radius.” Tim ran a hand over his face. “Learning pitch control still and the screams tend to uh, level things. Missions are fine, the, the flashbacks…”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Not far off from Canary then. Talking about JJ triggers it?”

Tim nodded with a hard swallow. “Talking about the, the memories from the life where my parents uh, killed me and the dying by them after half dying from fixing an invention of theirs and having multi-dimensional portal kill and revive me simultaneously multiple times does it too.”

Static opened and shut his mouth. “Flashbacks frequent?”

“Yeah, kinda. Telling my body we’re not being strapped down and vivisected is uh, not something it likes to believe. And survival first, questions later. Fear gas is so much easier to handle,” he complained.

Virgil nodded slower this time. Tim knew it was a lot to take in.

“So, a Canary Cry?” Virgil began once the silence began to stretch to uncomfortable.

“Kind of?” Tim read her file enough before just in case, and he had clear add-ons she didn’t have. “Enhanced hearing too, but I can use infra sound and hear it if I tune into it. Also can hear the weather more than usual.”

“More than—you could hear the weather before?” Virgil stared at him.

“Assumed it was the autism,” Tim dismissed. “Could be both now.”

Virgil shook his head, possibly grumbling about 'white boys' under his breath. “Any other metas in the family?”

“Not that are still around. Dad’s cousin had a similar voice ability,” Tim talked around the issue of Black Canary Senior being his disowned cousin. “But never met her. Fled long before I was born on Dad’s side. Mom’s is a mystery in general unless you ask for someone specific about a specific event or topic.”

Virgil shook his head. “Okay, but are you sure nothing else has gone on, anything unusual?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Broke down Batman’s resistance to me being Robin using what Mom taught me about destroying my enemy’s mental fortitude, so… I don’t think so.”

“Think on it. And I can help with the exposure therapy thing if you want, but getting any help for all of this besides me?”

“Step mom, Dad, and Ivy. Robin’s supportive but doesn’t know any specifics… I think. She caught me during training on a surveillance mission, only knows some powers. Dad, step mom and me are the only ones that know about all of them.”

Virgil sighed. “Bats can’t know?”

“Not if we want my dad to stay out jail.”

Virgil looked up at his ceiling. “Planning to your tell your friends?”

“…When I have a better idea of how to control the screaming part. They were already convinced I’ve been meta since we met.”

“Might have been.”

Oh, Tim had not thought that part through.

“…maybe? I’ll have to work that out at home… and thanks. I mean it.”

“No problem man, just try not to mix me with anyone you knew last life, or not too bad.”

“You’re safe. More worried about mixing current friends with my dead ones.”

Virgil shooed Tim out.

Tim relaxed, just a touch, before going back to cases in the commons and catching Stephanie up on Titans BS with everyone chiming in.

It was good to be home.

—

Tim knows, logically, he can tell his team about being murdered by his parents in his last life. He also remembers meeting Greta and knowing she wasn’t truly Dead, which is something he can’t explain fully still…

Virgil might have had a point about being some sort of meta (or maybe magic?) long before the JJ incident. Most kids can’t evade Batman and Robin for years just to take pictures of them mid-flight.

Maybe a sound nullification ability or something to that effect… he can bribe Ivy to help experiment with it later.

The problem is he doubts Kon wouldn’t lead the charge with his dad to summon and beat up said former filicidal parents. And he knows that the whole team would be on board if they knew.

He would rather not see Maddie or Jack again. Especially while awake. Jazz showing up a bit different in his dreams and complaining about his broken sleep schedule making it harder to visit was something he remained on the fence about telling anyone.

Possibly harass Captain Marvel about it as that guy said nothing about people’s shit unless it becomes a game of which plane of existence you can stay on… but even then, tracking him down without bat-tech is a game of whackamole.

There’s also the complication of Tim being very aware he likes Kon, and not necessarily as a friend alone. Which. He doesn’t have time for the additional sexuality crisis on top of his varied identity crises at the moment and the media’s questions about the two Robins and if Robin was gender fluid, flux or only out as a girl in Gotham and a young man elsewhere. He cannot add ‘crushing on a teammate’ to his list when he and Stephanie only broke up a week before the JJ incident and are just now easing back into their old friendship. He doesn’t want the amputated feeling of losing a friend again because he keeps catching feelings for them, and is 10,000% certain he should not touch romance until he’s in a better mental state.

He has Problems on his plate, and it’s already overflowing. He’d rather not break.

And he loves his friends. But he has no doubt that Cassie would set up the pitchforks rather than stop any of the retribution his father was undoubtedly planning. He can’t gift-wrap his friends as minions in his dad’s crusade to fuck over the Fentons across dimensions, spacetime and afterlife status.

He did manage to make a small list of oddities for himself about his capacity to do things that were vaguely ghostly or similar to powers he’d pieced together.

So far potential intangibility or density shifting, invisibility, faster recovery rate than non-metas yet slow for a meta—speed seems dependent on how likely the injury is to kill him. His high tolerance for the cold was making sense the further in Winter he got and the more he’d see flickers of Frostbite training him in his last life.

Whatever an ‘ice core’ is, seems cool. He may have taken to playing with discarded freeze guns and be reworking them to be smaller and more compact. Possibly to add to his future vigilante ID, or to be a general weapon as a civilian given non-lethal status and his ability to add a melting rate adjustment knob of some sort, and call 911.

Bart saw him with it, grinned manically, and joined in helping him improve and adjust it. Slobo joined them both.

Cassie took one look at them and declared it ‘not her problem if they freeze themselves’ while Kon was out on another press tour thing.

Tim pretended not to note those had increased lately only on days Tim was staying with Just Us for non-mission things and Kon’s increase in excuses to avoid him in general.

If Kon wanted distance, then he’d get it. Even if it stung. Kon’s time and his life to spend as he pleases. And clearly, Tim displeases him. /worthless. Monster. Failure. Stand-in. No wonder you’ve always been a loser—/

“So, for Robin time or outside the mask?” Greta asked when she caught the three near the end of a schematics debate.

“Not sure yet,” Tim admitted. “Rogues are weirdly chill with me in civvies lately. But that could be Ivy being Ivy.”

Bart and Slobo’s debate died at that. “Ivy?”

“Uh, Poison Ivy’s plants outted civilian me for something i was dealing with. She’s decided she’s helping with fine-tuning my control on it and gave me one of her ‘protected by’ pins.”

Greta hummed, floating nearer while Bart was buzzing in his place.

“and its a good thing?”

“Other than her shipping me and my ex? Parents approve of the additional support and it’s made intel gathering easier. She was right about the hearing range increase being a bitch to deal with daily.”

Cassie came in with their takeout then, and everyone dispelled to their usual nonsense.

“So, Ivy ships you and your ex?” Greta began with innocently enough.

Tim debated banging his head against the table.

“My civvie self and Gotham’s Robin,” he clarified. “And only enough to throw cuddle pollen on her and lock us together in… varied situations. And laugh about it.”

Cassie blinked at him slowly. “You are being teased by a Rogue who ships civilian you, with a vigilante.”

“… to be fair I am getting plant speak lessons, but yeah.”

“Rob, what the fuck,” Cassie shook her head.

Tim shrugged. “Its Ivy. A safe distraction for the minors she fights is her preferred MO. if it’s just Bats she can and will use sex pollen. If kids or unclear on minor status are involved, cuddle pollen galore.”

“Uh huh.” Cassie and Greta share a look. “So you dated girl Robin, before she became Robin?”

“She was Spoiler first, and I gave her tips on managing Bruce’s ass when I uh,” Tim still didn’t know how to explain ‘forcibly removed from vigilante activities as his dad worried about him dying in a cape like the last Robin, so Tim was forced to pass the buck of Bruce’s mental instability onto his ex-girlfriend and close friend, Spoiler, and coaches her in Bruce Wrangling at a distance’.

“Forced semi-retirement?” Cissie suggested as she stole a slice of pizza, cringing at Tim’s. Which was all his as Bart didn’t care for it. Sucker’s bet on keeping their slices safe from speedster snatching. Amateurs; clearly they never went to boarding school.

“That,” Tim took a bite of his Canadian bacon and pineapple goodness. “And also she’s officially Oracle’s Robin," he swallowed. "Just B’s for combat scenarios. Dad has decided to threaten B’s living status for her too.”

“Rob,” Slobo interrupted. “The fuck.”

“…in my defense, she asked me out a week after almost killing me the first time.”

“Your dad, not other Robin!”

“First time?!”

“She prefers bricks as her projectiles.” Tim wiped his hands clean after his first slice, humming as he went over the blueprint… how should he compensate for his screams and Wail?

“Oh, and she aimed at my head. She’s into three section staffs lately which is a lot less deadly.”

“Rob. She asked you out after almost killing you?” Bart clarified.

“… not on purpose but yeah.”

“She asked you out by accident?”

“No, almost killing part. She’s gotten better aim since, and is following the no killing until you’re not a bat-affiliate rule.”

His team shared looks he didn't bother to check. The urge to analyze could spiral into another screaming attack if he didn't nip it in the bud.

“So not getting back together with her?” Greta clarified with a smile that screamed Gossip Detected.

He let her have either way, even with the looks Cissie, Bart, and Cassie shared.

———-

Let me know if i missed any tags ^^

[dreamjoymemoir]

have you seen that really cute set of matching friendship bracelets where one lights up after the other's button is pressed to show your so/friend that youre thinking about them? can you please write about reader inventing them and giving one to anaxa, so that he always knows when we're thinking about him 🤗 spoiler alert: a LOT

i haven't omg but that sounds cute 🥺

-anaxagoras is already amused that you're making him friendship bracelets now, and he's willing to wear just about anything made by you, but the fact that they light up has him intrigued. he thinks it's a cute and unique novelty, and he doesn't expect just how eager you are to let him know that he's always on your mind.

-when he's shut away in his lab, the excited and repeated glow of his bracelet is a reminder of you. he stops to glance at it and imagine you giddy with infatuation, which makes him smile just a little. it distracts him from his work... but he still refuses to take it off. he would never spurn a token of your affection, even if it makes him less than efficient. there's something very sweet in reminding him that there is someone elsewhere who values his life as he's pouring his time and energy into studies much larger than him.

-he's in the middle of a speech in class when he sees it go off, and he pauses for a moment. his students giggle and whisper among themselves about professor nax's cute new accessory, to which he threatens point deductions unless they settle down. it's still glowing while he talks about how dromases are the only virtuous titan creations.

-lest you forget how much he loves you, sometimes your bracelet starts glowing too. in the late hours, it lights up your room in the dark to let you know that he thinks of you no matter where he is. i feel like anaxagoras would be clever with it and invent a morse code-like system to send you messages (despite the fact that he could just use his teleslate... which he won't) and tell you he's on his way home or he'll be late or something. regardless, he's more into this feature than he expected, and seeing your light throughout his day has his heart feeling warm. even if he doesn't doubt your devotion at all, he's pleasantly surprised to find out how much you think of him.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Six ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Six Warnings: profanity, making out, biting How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

A/N: y’all are gonna love this one

[Chapter Six]

“So then I said no, again,” you said, finishing your story on how Adam had proposed to you for the fifth year in a row. Lucifer turned his head to look at you, golden strands falling in front of his eyes. 

You were both lying on the floor- the rug, to be exact, of one of the many rooms Lucifer had. You’d dragged him down there with you. He couldn’t say no. The window casted a large square of red light into the room, precisely where you two lay.

It had been five years since you first met.

Five years of sneaking away from the exorcists. Five years of crawling in through conveniently left open windows. Five years of evading the Seraphim and Lute’s questions and five years spent communicating in Morse code through your bracelets, late into the night. 

“Is it just me, or is he getting more creative? As far as an idiot like him can get, anyways.” Lucifer murmured. You raised a hand to shield your eyes from the light so you could see him properly. 

“As far as an idiot like him can get? I don’t know about you, but he really exceeded my expectations.” Lucifer laughed at that. The sound was beautiful, the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. 

“Really. He scared me when he popped out of my ficus plant. Actually, I’m quite sad about that ficus.” 

“I’ll find a way to get you a new ficus,” Lucifer sighed, turning back over. You smacked his shoulder playfully. 

“You can’t get me a new ficus, Your Majesty.”

“I’m the King of Hell. I’ll get you anything you want. No matter what.”

The words made you blush, as you flicked your eyes back to the ceiling. 

“And just call me by my name. Why do you even use ‘Your Majesty?’”

You let out an incoherent string of half-hearted grumbles in response, which made him chuckle. Somehow his hand had found yours, fingers intertwining like they were magnetically attracted to each other. 

“How much time until the Pentagram closes?”

“Enough, but not long.”

“Wish I didn’t have to go.”

Lucifer sat up, a lock of hair tumbling down over his pale forehead as he grinned at you. Devilishly handsome. “Do you prefer to spend time with me than all your friends in Heaven?” 

Your heart thumped against your ribcage. You were worried he could hear it as you gulped. “Maybe.”

Your hands were still connected. 

You sat up too. He stared into your eyes, then flicked his gaze to your lips, then back up. Then his face split into another smirk. “Well, thanks for taking the risk for me.”

You hadn’t realized that you’d both been drawn closer. You could feel his breath on your lips.

A sudden urge to just lean in washed over you. You searched his face desperately, looking for a single sign that he wanted it too. Even the smallest look. He tilted his head, glancing down at your lips again, closer.

You grabbed his collar, pulling him in. “It’s worth it,” you breathed. 

His lips felt soft- so so soft, you could have stayed like that forever. You could feel his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, closer. You shuddered, digging your nails into his shoulders, easing a small moan out of him. 

“Angel,” he whispered, and the nickname burned hot against your lips as you tangled your fingers through his golden locks, just to pull him in again, as close as you could get.

“Lucifer,” you gasped in response, and felt him shiver under your fingertips. 

You both pulled away, breathing heavily. He glanced at you from half-lidded eyes. “Say it again,” he murmured shakily. 

“Say what?”

“My name.” He yanked on your hand and you toppled over, into his chest, palms braced on the floor behind him. “Say it again.”

Your mind whirled. “Lucifer-“

He grabbed your face, pulling you in again, kissing you with more ferocity this time. You felt his sharp teeth graze against your bottom lip tantalizingly, and it took everything for you to not bite back. Fingers dug into your waist, balancing you on his thigh. 

You let off a small, sharp breath of annoyance as he pulled away, only for him to trail his lips down your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses and bruises, ending at your collarbone. He leaned back up to kiss your lips again. You pushed him away gently. 

“Lucifer, we can’t do this,” your voice trembled. His expression dropped and it almost shattered your heart in pieces. “It’s too risky.”

“Angel-“

“No,” you said desperately. “It isn’t supposed to happen. It’s gone too far.” His lips clamped shut. Your eyes flicked up and down his figure, the rumpled clothes, the messed up hair. His face flushed, lips swollen. 

“Why?” He murmured, voice dangerously low. You almost gave in again. “I’ll finish what I started. Won’t you? Don’t you want this?”

“I do. I want it so bad. But if they find out- the trouble we’ll get in- they might even come for you-“

“Let them,” he growled, voice riddled with frustration. You stared at him for a split moment, your own breathing the only thing you could hear, and then your lips crashed into his again, with more fervour and desperation than ever before as you clawed at his shirt. He whimpered, the noise making you throb.

“Fuckkk,” you hissed, the word unfamiliar on your tongue, as he kissed his way down your jaw again, then yelped as he nipped at the soft skin. You pulled away. He grinned at a spot on your neck that throbbed, fingers tracing the sensitive flesh. You could feel the bite mark forming. 

“Something to remember me by,” he muttered against your neck.

You blushed. 

♱♱♱

You pulled your collar up for the fifth time that evening, surrounded by exorcists in the hot, busy bar you were in. The fabric brushed against the bite, making you flinch.

They had wanted to celebrate a recent newly appointed exorcist's first extermination, and it just so happened that you were acquainted with the girl. And also the fact that Adam had begged you to go in his place.

Lute was downing another drink next to you. You’d lost count of how many she’d had, watching in concern as she punched the air, eyes drooping with intoxication. “Carpe noctem, bitches!” 

“Right,” you muttered, checking your watch. It was late. Really late. “Lute, are you sure you should have another drink?”

Lute waved over the bartender. “Fuckin’ hell yeah,” she snapped, head flopping in all sorts of directions as she babbled her order in an incoherent mess of words. You smiled at the bartender apologetically and shook your head. They got the hint and left. Lute didn’t even notice. 

The two other exorcists with you giggled. One of them leaned on the bar. “Let her have another, [name].” She ruffled the hair of the girl next to her. “In cheers to pipsqueak’s coming of age, right?”

You stared at them, then turned back to Lute, who was in hysterics next to you. “One more, and then we’re going home.”

“Booooringgg,” the exorcist groaned, then opened their eyes wide. “But if you say so, [name].” She nudged her shy friend. “Who are we to disagree with the great [name] herself?”

You coughed uncomfortably. “I… uh, well-“

“Sorry,” the ‘pipsqueak’ mumbled to you. You smiled at her gently.

For the next few minutes you watched over Lute, until you had to rush her to the bathroom to throw up. You had pulled back her short cut hair as she hacked into the toilet bowl, until she drunkenly pushed you away. 

“Go away. Leave me the fuck alone- I don’t need you.”

She still leaned on you on the way back to your seats. 

As you both approached, you heard the exorcist’s conversation: 

“Yeah, so she cut that bitches eye out, just like that. That’s Lute for ya. I’ll tell you a thing, pipsqueak- you see a traitor, you show them no mercy. That bitch Vag-“

“Hey, girls,” you said. They both turned to look at you, and a groaning Lute. “I’m gonna take Lute home now. She’s… well…” you jerked your head at her and they nodded sympathetically. 

You gathered yours and Lute’s things before tugging on her arm.

“Come on. Let’s go,” you murmured, fussing with Lute’s hair. Lute groaned dramatically, leaning away from your touch as if she was repelled by it.

“Fine, bitch,” she hissed.

♱♱♱

A/N: what’s gonna happen with Lute? 😨😨😨 stay tuned to find out besties

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts

[friendship-bracelet-collection]

Memes and fun bracelets

And then we got to some of the last bracelets in my collection for now. This is a mix of memes, general words like Phandom, and the lone bracelets that doesn't really go into any specific sets.

Starting out with a fun one is a few rings! I made more but have given them away to friends. The black one says PINOF in morse code!!!

Then there's PHAN and PHANDOM made with rainbow pattern! These I would like to make more of in the future.

Golden Pig is the first one I made before I got pig charms, so this is just fully gold beads of different kinds.

Legalise Catboys is made with pony beads, where the white ones are glow-in-the-dark. And the cat beads i got from my friend Percy.

Phaby is silver because i wanted it to be. Whoever gets this bracelets also get a loose baby, cuz i couldn't get them to be charms.

Some Nostalgia bracelets:

Placenta is a remake of one I made for the Danish show, and I chose dark red glass beads because a placenta is bloody.

BBC Radio 1 is red cuz that's the colour I think of when I head BBC1, prolly because of the BBC Play logo when I watched Doctor Who.

Square Hair is meming on Phil's hair on that gameshow. I had square wooden beads in matching colour to Phil's dyed hair and Dans mop of hair. The pattern in the beads here is taken from Dans shirt:

Vegas Vlog is based on the non existing Las Vegas Vlog, and the colours are taking from the Welcome to Las Vegas sign.

Emo Hair is just black beads because of the emo hair both of them had.

The Hand is cream because its close to a pale skin colour. I made this one because I spitted the hand charm on a random pair of thrifted earrings.

Top Dan Memes is black for Dan's branding, with a few red beads because that's usually the colour people use when doing top of something lists.

Ranch is white in different sizes with two shades of green mixed in to look like ranch dressing. I'm very proud of this one.

Slit is glassy silver all around with stars on because like phaby, i just thought it fitted.

Rat Boy Summer is based on the shirt Phil wore last summer. I added a colourful bow for a little flare, as well as an ice cream to really hit home that it's a summer themed one. The Hello Kitty beads are for Dan, and the normal small beads are just chosen at random to be colourful.

Superglue is white in different sizes and shades, which I copied off of a bracelet I traded to at the Danish show, but they had used heart shaped letter beads.

Dip & Pip is just a bracelet for the new nick names they have gotten. I used the turquoise beads I had because it paired nicely with the green i used too.

Lastly, here's one based on the Dan And Phil Beats logo. The colours pulled from the logo got used in the letter beads and the hearts the rest of the beads are pure white to make the colours stand out.

[high-qualitymoron]

happy deep space discounts season finale eve! i made bracelets based on some of the characters :)

(i also made one in bi flag colors. not based on a specific character thats just for me)

gub!! i love gub. not much to say about this bracelet i just like it. I purposefully made it too loose because i think it fits the chill vibe

bucket! the yellow beads are morse code for ':)'. it would've been ';)' but apparently morse code doesn't have semicolons so whatever

there are also some i didnt actually make but that i have designs for

notes: - kip's would theoretically be sloppily made but i couldn't i'm too perfectionist. I like to think there's brighter red inside the flower because, y'know, brighter colors in the dark exterior. i see a mean character and go what if they're actually nice - i had no ideas for clayre. sorry girlie :(. my only real anything here was the knots to be like her gauges - beep is actually a beaded ring, which i dont think exist? nothing particularly special here, just colors - Vee's antenna become these big loops, which is an idea i'm pretty proud of. and the darker parts are freckles :D - Immy i also had no ideas for, but the thought of the human having the most stand-out kinda design made my brain go !!! so there's that. star-shaped beads could be replaced with planets or Earth. I didn't actually check what i have - Deedee's is just his face. He's everywhere :D

[edith-is-a-cat]

anyway a discussion about my bracelet and hand stuf from hand to arm lets gooo

The ring was from my great grandmother it is my only memory of how i knew her before everything happened

XTE. not sharing.

a rainbow bracelet i found when finding the ring, i thought it was really pretty and decided it would be apart of my daily wear

one half of a friendship bracelets i have with Sam. they lost their half boooo SHAME /silly

A pink bracelet i mde because i wanted to us more of my glow in the dark rubber bands

a rainbow bracelet with the letters to fuck but doesn't spell it which i think is hilarious

a bracelet that says "meow" because i place all my online orders under meow meow because i dont like seeing my legal name on packages and so i got a mystery bundle of bracelets and they gave me one that said meow most likely because of it

a morse code bracelet i got for Christmas that says beautiful badass

a bracelet my bonus grandparents got me for Christmas but forgot to bring so i got it months later

a ring from the last birthday party i attended from a friend of my old school

the bracelet i got from the theater camp it immediately became apart of my daily wear

ETX. close to the top, easy to take off

Inspired by the glass animals animals album and made for the concert i was going to in September i made it too big originaly and i needed to tighten it i accidentally fliped the M i used upside down so it says ilysfw which is is a mistake i never intended on fixing because it makes me smile at how dumb it is

a bracelet in a set of a few I made. I gave one to Sam. AND THEY LOST IT!!! /silly

A bracelets made by one of my grandma's friends its shiny

A bracelet form a friend in theater she said she sees me wearing bracelets a lot an thought i would like it (I do)

a bracelets that say 333 the angel number it came in the same order as the XTE, ETX, and meow bracelets i was just excited to have it because it was three three times and my favorite number is three

a bracelets that says "bend me over" i deeply cherish it though it it is sexual in nature because it was my first kandi trade at the aforementioned glass animals concert. also its really cute. and the senerio was really funny on me doing the trade. (still really unfamiliar with kandi but i want to learn more. but that may require mor going outside)

a bracelets that represents creativity i got it from my grandma for christmas

[invega-sustenna]

Okay guys, latest and last amount of goodies bought for freebies. Some of them i got 10 of, some 5, 2, or just one. One of them is a bracelet, but considering the Morse code shenanigans, I thought it would go well with whatever bracelet I could make. I still have pins left over from my last buy, too.

Cheers to whoever purchases!

[amorseart]

I have been working on something that lets me combine something I really love with a little extra creativity than my usual designs...

Very excited to announce that my next new update will be a series of different pieces of Morse code jewellery inspired by figure skater Yuzuru Hanyu's programmes and performances!

I'm planning on releasing a few new pieces on the 11th of each month, starting this coming Monday 11 December with:

YUZURU HANYU

-.-- ..- --.. ..- .-. ..- .... .- -. -.-- ..-

HANYU YUZURU

.... .- -. -.-- ..- -.-- ..- --.. ..- .-. ..-

EFFORTS WILL LIE BUT WILL NEVER BE IN VAIN

. ..-. ..-. --- .-. - ... .-- .. .-.. .-.. .-.. .. . -... ..- - .-- .. .-.. .-.. -. . ...- . .-. -... . ..- -. ...- .- .. -.

The first two codes will be available as bracelets, and the third code will be available as two bracelets (EFFORTS WILL LIE / BUT WILL NEVER BE IN VAIN) or as a necklace/wraparound bracelet.

After that, my plan is to work through Yuzu's ice shows and senior programmes!

Each of these designs will use different coloured beads to the rest of my collections (those pictured are an iridescent blue-black), and will have the option of including themed charms (e.g., feathers, stars, crystals). Some may be limited editions, depending on how difficult it becomes to source materials.

I really only make jewellery inspired by media I love, but this one is a particular passion project for me. I hope you like it too!

(And, of course, #Happy29thBirthdayYuzu !)

[gay-bbq-dad]

I met one of my neighbors today. She’s in her 70s and she has a necklace that in large cursive says fuck and a Morse code bracelet that says fuck off. I told her that I like her Halloween decorations and the mummy thing scared the living shit out of me when I saw it for the first time like four years ago. She said she loves Halloween and wants to scare trick or treaters but she’s too old to decorate her yard and she said I am welcome to take her old decorations so I can make my yard scary. She offered it but is doing that thing that sweet old ladies do where it’s said as an offer but actually you have no choice. She’s absolutely wild and also my new best friend I think.

[kryptyd]

to the pretty girl at the foo fighters concert who was so nice and cussed out a really rude woman who called her bf a cunt and who talked to me about music and dave and grabbed my hand because she saw i had a morse code bracelet and she also had a morse code bracelet too and she was like that's so cool, i just hope ur having a good day i didn't get your name but you were cool i liked talking to you and looking at your boobs💜

[jollyrolls]

15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

Thank you for the tag @ash-mcj💗💗💗💗

are you named after anyone | my name just means colour golden in another language. It sounds nice but I used to have problems properly writing or prounouncing it when i was little as 'r's and 's's were difficult for me heh heh

when was the last time you cried | Today morning actually, I was listening to a sad song and it kind of happened

do you have kids | No. I love kids! But to become a parent seems like a responsibility I am not ready for

do you use sarcasm a lot Haha sometimes. I use it while texting but I am too slow to come up with a fun or witty response in real-time conversations

what sports do you play/have played | I used to play basketball and a bit of cricket as a kid. Nowadays.... well, do video games count?

what’s the first thing you notice about people | their accesories, like a piercing or a bracelet

eye color | brown

scary movies or happy endings | happy endings. cannot handle scary

any special talents | I can use morse code (only when it is transmitted slowly tho)

what are your hobbies | painting, reading, journalling

do you have pets | none sadly. although we do have two birds living in the AC vent who are quite friendly

how tall are you | 5’5” or 168 cm

favorite subject in school | has to be biology and english!

dream job | running a small cafe + book shop in a quite town. heh heh

Everyone is welcome to join in! This is fun!

[the-resurrection-3d]

here's that tswift body horror yuri you ordered

By which I mean the first 1100-ish words. I'm gonn start editing this more tomorrow --- I have a lot I want to add, but I think this gives you good introduction. Feel free to ask any questions if something's confusing!

Act 1: Lover

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince: What category would you want to win? Seven asks her. Dorothy is meticulously arranging their dolls around one of her teddy bears, a witches’ sacrifice, while Seven lies on Dorothy’s bed flipping through their sixth-grade yearbook, the pages so crisp they crack.

Tyrannical dictator, Dorothy replies, not looking away from her work.

 Tyrant used to be a regular title, you know, Seven says. In Ancient Greece. It wasn’t bad like it is now.

 Yeah, I know, Dorothy replies. But I meant in in the bad way.

Seven simply laughs.

In the seventh grade, Dorothy is voted most popular of her grade, somehow, no, that can’t be right, she didn’t know anyone in seventh grade, she wore hoodies and read every spare second, right? When Dorothy finds the old yearbook, though, there she is, Little Miss Popular, and Seven is nowhere to be seen.

Cruel Summer: When they were young, Seven would sneak through the gate to Dorothy’s backyard, the orchids bright orange in the early summer and smothered in burlap by mid-fall. her every motion, from slowly opening the gate to sliding her foot from cobblestone to cobblestone just to not chance breaking a twig, would remind her of a cartoon mouse trying to sneak past the cat, and the house above would somehow instantly take on an angry, leering countenance. (The world conspires against you when you’re young, Seven will later write in an angsty fanfiction, or at least, that’s how it feels.) Dorothy would always already be on the swing, absentmindedly chewing gum and flashing her flashlight at Seven’s feet: Morse code for hurry up.

The night Seven and Dorothy used a stolen steak knife to split open their palms, they were too focused on each other to see it, but the house and the grass and all the stars did, in fact, lean in.

The Man: She still wishes she were a man sometimes, just so that she could be as angry as she wanted.

You Need To Calm Down: For this performance, Dorothy gives out emerald glasses alongside the light-up bracelets.

Lover: She’s 13, and her father is pouring himself a drink. "What kind of family are we?" he asks, with a dry, joyless laugh at the end. "It's Christmas Eve and nobody's put up anything." The “nobody” is Seven’s mother, who is struggling to walk with a baseball-ball-sized tumor lodged right at the base of her spine.

Seven shrugs. "I'm not a huge fan of Christmas, anyway."

The Archer (removed the setlist): Dorothy is shot once while on stage, right through the heart. There's too much blood on the microphone, so they bring her a new one. The wound closes up on its own, so the gunman shoots her again, in the head, but the same thing happens. They go through several microphones that way. the crowd initially thinks it’s a bit that goes on for too long, before the gunman is apprehended, arguing it didn't even hurt her, anyway. This is where the clone/cyborg rumors start.

Act 2: Fearless

Fearless: I’m trying to put it as succinctly as I can, so let me just say that in Seven’s closet was an old TV that didn’t work anymore and in which she imagined whole mice plays of sugar and stardust, and in Dorothy’s closet there was light from a window that was always a little too high for her to reach.

You Belong With Me: The first time Dorothy gets a boyfriend, Seven makes a list of every single reason he's bad for her. She breaks into the school's office and finds his permanent record and curses the air when she only finds perfect attendance and straight As, not even a single sick day. So she takes the file home and throws it in the fireplace. The next day, the boy is gone.

Love Story: She reads the story again and again. She writes a new version in the margins. When she goes to the library, all the other copies have her version, as if it were always the original. No one will believe her about this.

Act 3: Red

22: Dorothy's twenty-first birthday is spent on her bathroom floor, sweating, convulsing. Shedding her old self like a cocoon. Her manager Swan will find her and click his tongue and shake his head. When he comes back, it’s with black thread and a hook the length of his finger.

You see, this is why they just boil the pupae alive when they’re makin’ silk, he tells her as the new her shivers and the old her watches with glassy eyes. The silkworm’s cocoon is made of one beautifully continuous thread of silk, and when it bursts out, the thread breaks.

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together: Seven hears Dorothy's latest hit come on while she's out shopping and almost doesn't recognize it. Just the lump at the back of her jaw, the ache of old wisdom teeth.

I Knew You Were Trouble: "I didn't expect it to be this hard," her dad says once vis-à-vis parenting, vis-à-vis her asking why, vis-à-vis her and him alone in his car and she's in middle school and he won't look her in the eye.

Nothing New, featuring Phoebe Bridgers (removed from the setlist): Sometimes, in dreams, Dorothy remembers everything. She looks down at her hands and finds them small, but when she reaches up into the bright orange sky she thinks she could grab a cloud and stuff it into her pocket.

Then she wakes up. The room is so blue it's better off black, and it's cold, and the back of her jaw aches.

All Too Well (Ten Minute Version): Dorothy takes one of the scarves Seven has knit for her on her first European tour, fearing homesickness as much as the weather. Her new cat loves to sit on it whenever it's laid out on the hotel bed, even as the inevitably leftover glitter makes him sneeze.

One day, she drags herslef back to the hotel room and doesn't remember what she thinks is missing, only that something is, only that her cat is hiding under the bed and won't come out, eyes big and black as ink.

(Somewhere in an infinite darkness, a teenage boy suddenly feels something light and wooly and just a bit still glittery land on his head.)

Act 4: Speak Now

Enchanted: When Dorothy and Seven are children, talking together about their crushes was somehow more enjoyable than the crush itself. Somehow in none of their conversations does it come up that neither of them can remember a single boy's face.

Long Live (removed from the setlist): On her second tour that anyone attends, Dorothy decorates her arms: first with lyrics, then with numbers, too. Fans make elaborate spreadsheets on family computers—charts and timetables and miles and miles of digital red yarn for what the numbers could mean, especially when combined with the total number of letters in each lyric and the date worn flipped backward. By accident, Dorothy reveals unto a young teenage girl the language of God, who starts a doomsday cult in Dorothy’s honor.

On the day she prophesied, 13% of the world’s population disappeared, but for the sake of everyone’s mental health, we all collectively agreed to ignore it.

[plagues-and-pansies]

Crafting Madness: I Love This Rat Man & I Made Jewelry About It

Hello!

Do you like Arcane? What about crafts?

Do you have a deeply unsettling fascination with the Rat Man himself?

Are you unfamiliar with the definition of restraint?

Then welcome!

I’m horribly obsessed with Silco and I make morse code jewelry and I decided to combine these two things in a complete bout of maddness! The first time I saw the ChemBaron meeting scene in 1x7, I Learned Things about myself I was previously unaware of, so in dedication to its magnificence, I translated the entire scene into morse code and made the batshit decision to string it as a necklace!

I’ve made 2 failed attempts as documented by DM with @xiaq and they suggested I put it all in a post so the other nerds can at least delight in my insanity!

Here's a sneak peak of the in-progress project:

Supplies thus far:

Slant nose tweezers

Wire cutting pliers

Round nose pliers

Memory wire cutter

Needle nose pliers

1-step looper pliers

Bead board

6/0 black beads (scrapped)

6/0 silver beads (scrapped)

6/0 yellow beads (scrapped)

6/0 purple beads (repurposed for later)

5 slot necklace layering hardware (scrapped)

11/0 black beads

11/0 silver beads

11/0 bronze beads

11/0 dark red beads

11/0 acid green beads

11/0 silver lined yellow beads

11/0 light purple miyuki beads

24 gauge jewelry wire in gold

10 slot necklace layering hardware

I’m going to breeze over the first 2 attempts, and then detail the successful (so far) one. 

1st Failed Attempt:

I started out using supplies I already had, which were 6/0 seed beads. Seed beads are round glass beads, and the number indicates how many beads fit to an inch, so 6/0 = 6 beads to an inch. 6/0 is the largest seed bead you can get, and I’ve seen them go all the way down to 20/0. 

This was the first attempt:

I don’t remember where this ended, but it’s about Finn’s first three sentences in the 1x7 scene. Obviously this was gonna be way too unwieldy so I scrapped that, gave it a think, and bought some other beads.

2nd Failed Attempt:

For this round, I bought new beads and downsized. I considered 8/0, but I didn’t think that would be enough. 9/0 and 10/0 are very rare and nearly impossible to find, so 11/0 was my next step. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I Did Not. Here’s the size difference:

I have to use tweezers to handle even 6/0 beads because they’re small and I’ve got arthritis, and the 11/0s are twice as bad. 

Originally, I was going to use memory wire, which is a really firm wire that already comes sized for necklaces, bracelets, or rings. It’s very sturdy, but incredibly difficult to find in anything less than .75mm, and that’s still far too thick for 11/0 beads, so I swapped to 22 gauge jewelry wire. It’s thinner and more pliable so it’s easily bent out of shape, but it’s also easy to correct. 

I measured out each length of wire the same (Don’t ask for actual measurements. I eyeballed it, went “yeah that looks right”, and then cut the rest of the wire the same. Yes, this caused Problems.), looped one end to keep the beads from sliding off, and strung the beginning of the translation. 

I bought this 5 slot necklace layering hardware, and tried to give it a go, but it ended up being far too small to work with. 

Additionally, I cut the wire too long and it overlapped in the back, which also made attaching each line unwieldy. I got 2 layers attached and tried it on, and it didn’t sit well, and thus brought our 2nd attempt to an end.

3rd (and so far successful) Attempt:

Supplies still in use:

Slant nose tweezers

Wire cutting pliers

Round nose pliers

Memory wire cutter

Needle nose pliers

1-step looper pliers

Bead board

6/0 purple beads

11/0 black beads

11/0 silver beads

11/0 bronze beads

11/0 dark red beads

11/0 acid green beads

11/0 silver lined yellow beads

11/0 light purple miyuki beads

24 gauge jewelry wire in gold

10 slot necklace layering hardware

(Unfortunately, I don’t have pics of every step because I’ve never documented anything like this before, and if I hadn’t been live blogging my frustrations directly into @xiaq’s DMs, I wouldn’t have any idea of what steps I’ve taken.)

I do endeavor to learn from my mistakes, so the first thing I did was cut the wire to a more desirable length. Instead of overlapping in the back, I left about an inch between the ends to account for the new 10 slot necklace layering hardware I bought. 

After I figured that out, I measured out the length of 9 beads from each end and marked that on each wire. I did this for multiple reasons: 

Obviously each layer is going to be different, so I didn’t want to pack the morse code beads in from end to end because if I needed to adjust anything, I’d have to take part of the beads off and recalculate and I didn’t want to do that

If I did need to adjust anything - say I miscalculated on the size of an end loop and needed more wire than was available - I could use my needle nose pliers to crunch off a spacer bead without having to unstring the beads 

It just makes the ends a little more uniform and nice looking

After that I used a string to measure the length of the space between the marks, and marked it down on my bead board. Beads take up much less room on the wire than they do on the bead board because on the bead board they lay flat, not snuggly up against each other on their sides, so I mostly used the measurement as a guide, ie I needed at least this many beads plus a little more. 

I laid out the first bit of beads and that’s when the Biggest problem came about. 

I’m right handed, so the easiest way for me to string the beads is to use my right hand to pick up the beads, and my left to hold the wire, but if you do that, then the words will be in the correct order, but when you flip it around so the first word is on the left as we would read it, then all of your letters would be backwards. And I dunno if you guys know this, but that’s not how morse code works.

Morse code is a combination of dots and dashes and some, like H (....), will be the same no matter how you flip them, but if you write down an A (.-) and flip it over, that’s now an N (-.). That’s no bueno. 

This resulted in a 45 minute conversation/argument with my sister as we tried to figure out what to do and the solution, honestly, fucking sucks. 

In order for the letters to read correctly when flipped over, each word had to be written from left to right, as in the order of the letters was correct, but each letter itself has to be strung backwards.

Example( X to separate the letters):

Left = .-..X.X..-.X-

Would have to be strung as:

..-.X.X.-..X- = Felt

The E and T didn’t change, but those are two different words. 

Honestly, this has been incredibly frustrating and has resulted in several false starts, but I am nothing if not stubborn so I’ve persevered. 

After figuring all that out, I was able to string the first layer!

Here’s the breakdown so it makes more sense:

Bronze is used to cap the end of each line

Black is used as dots and dashes - 1 bead is a dot, 2 beads is a dash

Silver(Finn and Renni) or bronze (Silco) is used to separate the dots and dashes in a single letter

The colored beads separate the end of letters and words and denote which character is speaking

1 colored bead separates the letters in a word, 3 colored beads separate each word

Yellow/silver beads = Finn

Green/silver beads = Renni

Red/bronze beads = Silco

3 light purple miyuki beads end a sentence

1 6mm purple bead indicates a change in character

It reads “FIRST THIS WILD ATTACK IN THE HEART OF PILT-”.

Originally, I wasn't going to cut a word in half, but that just wasn’t a realistic wish when some of these words are so long. Instead, I can cut a word in half, but not a letter, lest I confuse myself even more. 

Note: I’m using the original punctuation in this post, but there is no punctuation on the necklace. A period is .-.-.- and it only gets worse from there and that’s too much when I’m already doing so much.

Here are the following layers:

“OVER. NOW THE BORDER’S CLOSING. WERE BLEEDI-”

“NG MONEY. AND FOR WHAT? HIS DREAMS OF REBELL”

[I don't think I took a pic of this one, and if I did, I have no idea which on it is]

“ION? HE’S LOSING CONTROL. IF WE STAND TOG”

“ETHER…(SWAP TO SILCO, RED) WE AREN’T DUE FOR AN ASSEMBLY. (SWAP TO FINN, YELLOW) WE SHOUL”

And here’s what the first 5 layers look like strung on the layering hardware. Yes, it’s an incredible pain in the ass to connect them.

And that’s what I have so far. I’m going to include the entire translation at the end of this post just for funsies. I know there are a couple of mistranslations - I keep mixing up Ls and Ys for some reason - but I catch them as I go. 

Now if you’ve made it through this post and are thinking “wow, this looks like so much fun, I think I might try this”, I beg of you, Don’t.

I mean, do what you want, but there has been much frustration and yelling, and some rage-related blood pressure issues, and there are SO MANY beads on my floor. You will drop them. You will find them in places you could never imagine. You will bump the table and undo 30 minutes worth of work. You will realize you strung the beads incorrectly and have to start over. You will cry. You will have to put yourself in time out and calm down with a juice box. Ask me how I know.

You will also find a new fascination with buying beads so take this as the warning it is. 

I’ll update this post as I go (and as I remember to), so stay tuned if this is the kind of freak you’re into!

Here’s the translation of the entire scene (X separates the letters in each word as that’s easier for me to read):

FINN: 

FIRST, ..-.X..X.-.X…X-

THIS -X….X..X…

WILD .--X..X.-..X-..

ATTACK .-X-X-X.-X-.-.X-.-

IN ..X-N

THE -X….X.

HEART ….X.X.-X.-.X-

OF ---X..-.

PILTOVER. .--.X..X.-..X-X---X…-X.X.-.

NOW, -.X---X.--

THE -X….X.

BORDER’S -...X---X.-.X-..X.X.-.X…

CLOSING. -.-.X.-..X---X…X..X-.X--.

WE’RE .--X.X.-.X.

BLEEDING -...X.-..X.X.X-..X..X-.X--.

MONEY --X---X-.X.X-.--

AND .-X-.X-..

FOR ..-.X---X.-.

WHAT? .--X….X.-X-

HIS ….X..X…

DREAMS -..X.-.X.X.-X--X…

OF ---X..-.

REBELLION? .-.X.X-...X.-..X.-..X..X---X-.

HE’S ….X.X…

LOSING .-..X---X…X..X-.X--.

CONTROL. -.-.X---X-.X-X.-.X---X.-..

IF .X..-.

WE .--X.

STAND …X-X.-X-.X-..

TOGETHER… -X---X--.X.X-X….X.X.-.

COLOR SWAP

SILCO: 

WE .--X.

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GOOD --.X---X---X-..

MEETING. --X.X.X-X..X-.X--.

[unknownjpegs]

quitting

The party is just so fucking loud.

Frat house bad; real bad. Two stories with a basement and crammed with people that Xavier didn’t necessarily like, or even get along with that well. But it was almost worse than a frat house, because this tidal pool of people went to university, went to college-college. For smart people. Really smart people, with GPA’s that calculated confusingly, that had triple major’s and two minors and got PhD’s after this. Masters. Belonged to societies, not social clubs.

So Xavier felt more out of place than usual, tagging along after Lark. Felt awkward in his jeans, distressed because he wore them thin, not for fashion. Hole in the knee because he’d skidded across the pavement falling off a skateboard. Out of place in his Carhartt that was stained because he worked a dirty job, not because he bought it that way. Because sometimes he had no rags and just rubbed car oil off on his jacket—that’s what it was there for.

Didn’t help that he was so fucking tall. Red haired. Beacon like. Xavier stood in the kitchen with his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to blend in and doing the exact opposite.

“What do you think?” The pretty blond turns to him then. She has saucer sized blue eyes that keep blinking morse code up at him. Xavier’s cup in his hand needs to be refilled with whatever cheap beer is on keg, but its across the room and these two have him absolutely fucking trapped.

“I uh,” he smiles down at her. “I thought The Shining was just a movie about a dude who goes crazy in a hotel.” Not that he’d stomached the entire thing; he’d made Benny fast forward through the blood elevator scene, which had made him sour the entire evening because it was his favorite part. The girl laughs with her head back. She has all that blond hair gathered up into a high pony tail. Her slim wrist has a gold bracelet on it; the kind that doesn’t unclasp. Permanent.

“Wow, you are so cute,” her companion says, a man only a few inches shorter than him. He has brushed back black hair and the strand that falls forward, onto his forehead seems purposeful. He looks at Xavier with hooded dark eyes that feel invasive. “Like, where did you come from?”

“Boston,” Xavier says, finishing the tepid beer in his red cup.

“Do Boston public schools not have media classes?”

Both of them laugh then, which makes Xavier feel like he’s somehow the shortest one there, despite being tall enough he could reach a hand up and touch the ceiling if he really wanted to. He doesn’t, hunches his shoulders instead, sinks into himself a bit as he scans for Lark’s blond head out in the crowd. When he catches sight, he angles himself sideways and shoves his way between the duo to the sound of their shocks gasps and rude and what’s his problem?

Xavier says, “Get me the fuck out of here.”

At the exact same time Lark says, “I just saw Benji.”

“You saw Benji?” he perks up then, shoulders dropping, tension draining like something was poked and let loose. Xavier has to tilt to look down at Lark, but he doesn’t feel small in front of the runner. Especially not with the way Lark sometimes keeps his chin tilted as if everyone’s meeting his gaze evenly. He’s grinning too, hands in his big track jacket, eyes rolling a little and indicating to the side with his head.

“Didn’t think he’d show—don’t think parties are his thing, but—”

Xavier turns, excited (big toothy grin, ready to find that curly hair, ready to get away from all these pretentious fucks, ready to get into a conversation that won’t make his head hurt, ready—) and his long arms crash into the person behind him. He yelps—and so does she, especially when the cup in her hand upends completely onto her front. Xavier watches in mute horror as beer spills all over a pale pink cardigan and a white dress.

“Oh fuck, I am so fucking sorry,” he pants immediately, blindly reaching into the kitchen for napkins until his eyes raise up from that beer soaked chest to the owner of the white dress and pink cardigan.

“Hi, Xavier,” she says softly and he panics.

“Daisy,” he says, thrusting the napkins onto her chest. “Uh, Daisy,” he repeats and then laughs, continues trying to soak up the spilled beer. When did she start drinking beer? Was a light weight when we dated. Or was she pretending to be a light weight? He swallows and tries to smile at her. She’s so small he has to almost fully arch over to look at her—makes his neck hurt.

“Oh—stop—” she laughs, swatting at his hands. Her cheeks go a dark red color, bloom a blush across her nose, all the way to her ears. She tucks strands of her loose dark hair away. “It—it was an accident, you’re fine.” Her hand smooths down over his and he almost jumps back from it. Afraid she might lace their fingers together like she used to do. He remembers the way she’d wildly swing their interlocked hands, her big, beautiful smile up at him. The little gleam in her eyes, the idolization of him apparent. He swallows hard and his hand lingers on her collarbone.

“Long time no see,” he says awkwardly. She blinks her big hazel eyes and then tilts her head and smiles more.

Xavier wishes he could turn, find that curly head of hair, but, he gets trapped there. Her fingers lace through his and hold him.

—

They catch up for an hour, maybe longer. Daisy talks about the non profit she’s started working at, her new apartment downtown. It’s a loft, with more square footage than Xavier’s childhood home that held four children and two parents. She says he can visit, if he wants, whenever. She hasn’t put together her book shelves because she’s not exactly strong enough; she laughs when she says it, that you know me, laugh. She talks about school, the pressures of it, maintaining her grades, what she’ll do after. And when she finally asks about him, her big eyes up and both her hands holding his one, he doesn’t know what to say.

Haven’t moved from this spot, where we parted. Haven’t really done anything else, Daisy. Would love to tell you that and disappoint you.

“Still smoke,” he says instead, grinning. “Actually, was gonna dip out for one.” Her hand tightens a bit on his, until she seems to collect herself. She makes a small sound of surprise—as if she’s not in charge of her own actions—hands fluttering up to her mouth innocently. Xavier has to look away then, awkwardly to the side door, where he knows freedom is just a step away. Fresh air. Even if it’s nicotine laced.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, eyes averted down. “I’ve like, totally kept you here for so long just blabbering about myself.” It makes his chest squeeze, makes his ribs cage into his heart and he swallows. Contemplates staying there, letting her continue before he slips a hand up to cup the back of his neck. He squeezes there, blinking around the party. She fits in here, because she’s wearing that cute dress he’s ruined. She fits in because she’s pale and pretty and has ambitions and—money.

“You’re fine—hey, we’ll uh, we’ll have lunch soon. Right?”

“Next week,” she says, with a gentle nod, a little soft laugh that’s girlish and sweet. He’d loved that laugh, loved making her laugh, loved telling her dumb jokes to make her laugh. It had made him feel special, sometimes.

They’d promised to stay friends when they broke up. Xavier felt committed to that promise, but had never actually acted on it—was busy. She was busy too, it seemed. But as he backs toward the door, her large eyes capture him again, make him pause. Make him feel like the bad guy as he fumbles for the sliding glass door.

—

It’s when the cold air rushes to meet him that Xavier realizes he might be a little drunk. His cheeks are warm against the biting wind and his hands feel fat and awkward as they shove into his jacket. He stumbles a bit outside, his long legs awkward and his converses sliding across wet grass.

“Stupid,” he seethes to himself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” And he’s angrier still, because he doesn’t have his cigarettes on him. Had left them in Lark’s car like an idiot. Xavier continues sliding across the grass. The house is on a knoll, big mound that lets it sit higher than the road across it where all the cars are parked. Wouldn’t matter even if he did get to Lark’s car, because he doesn’t have the keys. “Stupid.” Xavier hisses once more as he turns and slides a bit more.

There’s a single street light on, and it’s yellow hazy glow illuminates the figure sitting down in the wet grass, just right outside the ring of light. He leans with his legs thrown out in front of him, palms braced behind, chin tucked to his chest. Benji sits there, looking so out of place and alluring that Xavier’s whole stomach drops and he doesn’t recover. He slips again, has to catch himself a bit, hands sliding over the dewy grass as he stares.

Xavier’s eyes sweep over him again. They linger too much on those thrown out legs. One the curve of his body as he sits there. In the wet grass, without giving a fuck about anything. Xavier stares. He lingers.

Lately, it’s been—hard.

“Pff.” He is drunk, because its a difficult thought, but it makes him snort anyway as he starts walking toward the figure. Even if he’s grinning, maybe laughing a little—it has been hard. Lately, it’s been really fucking hard to look at Benji and not feel confused. Because; that’s his friend. That’s his friend. That’s someone he calls a friend, who he refers to as his friend. My friend, Benji.

His friend that he thinks about, in spare moments. Standing in line waiting to order food. Thinks about, when he’s under a car, doing a routine maintenance he could do in his sleep. His friend that he thinks about sometimes before bed, trying to get himself to think about anything else. Trying so hard to think of anything else but his friend.

My friend, Benji.

As Xavier gets closer, he expects him to turn and look at him—he doesn’t, which flares some weird anxiety in him. A did I do something wrong feeling? A little ice cube melting underneath his sternum. Daisy, in the back of his mind, his hand on her collarbone, his hand in hers, her eyes up at him, his guilt. Xavier swallows hard around a rough feeling in his throat, his head dizzy and warm. He slips some more as he finally gets right beside him and smiles down.

“Who’s the most popular guy at the nudist colony?” he asks Benji, standing beside him and looking down. Benji finally lets his head fall back, his brown eyes lifting to look at him. Xavier feels punched by that look, his chest caved in, because God fuck—fuck—just—fucking—fuck does Benji have beautiful eyes. Framed in dark lashes that flutter a bit, thick brows pulled down in his usual scowling grimace. Those big brown eyes are looking at him from behind those thick rimmed dark glasses that make them bigger and they reflect moonlight. My friend, Benji.

“Feels like this one’s gonna be a bad one, Xavier.”

“The guy who can carry a cup of coffee in each hand and a dozen donuts.” Benji blinks those liquid brown eyes slowly, his brows pulling upward. The scowl disappears, replaced with this humored look that fills Xavier’s stomach with butterflies. Really fat ones that ping around everywhere. Xavier lifts a hand and gestures obscenely with a tongue pinched between his teeth. “Get it?”

“So fuckin’ awful, mate.”

He lowers himself to the ground beside Benji then, bending his knees. The sloped hill makes it easier to sit and he watches the street light flicker, as if deciding whether or not it’ll stay on for such a picturesque moment. For a moment, they get to just be quiet—and that’s so fucking nice, it almost makes Xavier want to say it out loud, but that’ll ruin this moment, so instead he tucks his teeth into his lower lip. He looks out to the empty street, the music from the house inside soft behind them.

Xavier likes being quiet with Benji; likes the recuperation of it all. Sometimes, when they’re together, they don’t actually say anything at all. Sometimes, all they do is talk—for hours, about nothing, easy ping pong conversation back and forth, endless. But this is so nice after being inside that stuffy house, inside those waves of people, inside all those conversations and the music. Xavier tucks his knee closer and lays his cheek against it, tilts his face Benji’s way—is shocked to find him already looking at him.

“Do you have a cigarette?” Xavier asks, finds it weird how hoarse his voice is and has to clear it.

Benji fishes around in his pocket. That lightweight button up looks flimsy against the piercing night cold, so as he does, Xavier slowly shrugs off his Carhartt. He drapes it unceremoniously around Benji’s shoulders right as the man turns to offer the pack. They’re close then—probably too close. Xavier should probably scoot back, or at the very least lean away, because his friend, Benji is too close. Instead he stares, with big, blinking, drunk eyes and then grins.

“S’my last one,” Benji says and that grin drops.

“Oh, dude, I won’t take your last fucking cigarette—”

“Naw, we’re gonna share it.”

Before he can argue—because Xavier understands the importance of the last cigarette a man has—it’s being put in his mouth for him. That stuns him so hard the wet grass feels like its sliding up to meet him. Actually is a little because he’s turned on his side to face Benji and his shoulder connects with the ground. He laughs a bit, has to catch the cigarette and right it between his lips as he watches Benji fish out the lighter.

The jacket slips a little, so Xavier reaches up and fixes it more so it wont fall again. It makes Benji pause and glance over. His glasses slide a little down his prominent, strong nose. I love your nose, he doesn’t say, keeps tucked like his teeth in his lips. You have such a handsome nose.

Out comes the lighter then, Benji smiling crookedly. It’s one of those real smiles, no meanness to it. He’s never really mean. Xavier scrubs a hand back through his hair, unable to stop himself from grinning back. He’s not mean, at all. People get that wrong about him. He leans forward as Benji strikes the lighter; and he has to reach a hand up with it. Keep it cupped around that flame so that it won’t flicker out. But his hand wavers—so Xavier reaches up too and loops his fingers around Benji’s wrist to keep everything neat and straight.

He watches the flame at first, touching the tip of the cigarette. But on the inhale, his eyes slide until he’s looking at his pale thumb against Benji’s wrist. He watches, unable to stop himself as that thumb brushes smoothly across his vein, a pulse. Xavier’s eyelids droop, his lungs filling with nicotine as he inhales. Soft. Skates across his mind as his eyes slide back and find those brown ones staring at him through big glasses. Xavier’s hand doesn’t drop.

And when Benji’s hand moves, his fingers somehow trail over Xavier’s cheekbone, sending electric shocks through him. Straight over his spine, down curling lower, underneath his belly button. He has to blink a few times, has to stare forward at those beautiful brown eyes as the hand retreats away. The memory of finger pands on his cheek.

Xavier pulls away only slightly, cigarette smoke pushed from his nose and into the air. It’s then that he finally removes his hand and goes for it, laughing a little on the exhale.

“Fuck, I love smoking” He passes it over then. Their fingers brush. Nothing new. They touch all the time. Last week Benji had fallen asleep on the couch with his legs thrown over Xavier’s. They touch all the time. It’s nothing new. It’s fingers brushing sharing a cigarette. My friend, Benji.

“Tryin’ to quit.” He takes a drag, the cigarette fitted between his index and middle finger. Xavier watches his thumb flick it to send ash off into the grass. “Last one of the day. Half of one anyway.” Benji leans over and holds it out. Xavier takes it, oddly careful before putting it to his mouth. Xavier lays then, lets himself settle into the moist grass, kicking his long legs out. Benji does too, their shoulders brushing—lucky the Carhartt is mostly in the way. Lucky why?

“My neighbor has been mad at his wife for sunbathing naked,” Xavier says, rolling his head to look at Benji. Already looking at him too. He holds out the cigarette and Benji takes it back, tucks it between his lips. They curve, softly, into his smile, his fucking smile—that smile. That smile. The street light flickers again. “I, personally, am on the fence.”

Benji laughs, throwing out a leg to kick Xavier, to tell him, right fuckin’ awful! So fuckin’ bad every time.

And they dissolve into laughter over that, kicking at each other, squirming on the wet grass. That dissolves into talking, into discussing the TV show they’d been binging together; Xavier lamenting how Benji never gets the three-two-one count down correct and he’s always a few minutes ahead when they’re watching in their own apartments. They talk about Benji’s sister coming to visit soon (“Man, I hope she likes me.” “Oh, mate, she’s got opinions.”) and they discuss Xavier’s latest tattoo on his knee, a barbwire fence because he thought it looked cool.

The streetlight flickers off, but they stay there. Talk about something else, for a while.

—

When they get home, Lark is guiding Xavier into their apartment by the hips laughing.

“You always do this.”

“You love taking care of me.” He’s got his long pale arms over Lark’s shoulders, grinning as he stumbles back. One of his hands toy with Lark’s stark blond hair, tugging it a little and making the shorter man growl and glare. “You’re such a mom friend.”

“You’re such a shit head. You’re drunk,” Lark accuses confidently—and yeah. Definitely is. Had a few more beers than he was supposed to have, especially after Lark found him and Benji sitting together, but he feels dizzier than usual. Keyed up in a weird way, wound together tightly and energetic and also exhausted. Syrupy in the head in the same way it feels like that molasses is mixed with fucking pop rocks. He feels over the garden wall.

Lark turns him toward his bedroom then, still guiding him.

“Sleep it off, big guy.” Xavier swirls instead, back to facing him and scoops Lark up into a hug. He has to bend to get to him, has to arch down and hold him close. He feels Lark’s hand patting softly at his side and his soft laughter in his ear. “Man, love you too. Go to bed.”

When he does get into his room, Xavier—despite feeling like he could fall into it and sleep immediately—dedicates his time to getting his shoes unlaced. Puts them by the door, where they always go. He shrugs off his crewneck sweater—realizes then that Benji still has his jacket. The sweater and his jeans go into the hamper, which he stares down at, contemplating that jacket.

It’s his favorite. It’s expensive and worthwhile. He walks backward till the back of his knees hit the bed and he falls down onto it—long arms splayed everywhere and one leg hanging off the edge. His necklace, the little crucifix charm, slides until its all bunched into the hollow of his throat; he brings a finger there and hooks it around the chain and tugs slightly as he closes his eyes. He groans, all that wild energy suddenly leaving him in a rush because, Xavier realizes, he’s—

He’s in love with his friend Benji.