#prompt: rhythm

[verfound]

FIC: "Of Suitable Proposals" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 35: Rhythm

When he finally started to come to, Luka wasn’t sure where exactly he was, but the smell and the feel and the steady rhythm of the heartbeat playing strong beneath his ear sure felt a hell of a lot like home.  He felt like he’d been sleeping forever, which…he probably had been.

He never slept well on the road.  He slept enough, but he never felt as rested as he did in his own bed with Marinette sleeping beside him.

…he was really starting to hate touring.  He hated being away from her.  He hated the constant circus touring with Jay was.  He hated…

The bed…no, not the bed.  Marinette shifted beneath him, and he felt himself sinking into her with a sigh.  He didn’t hate this.  He loved this.

…he loved it more when his body didn’t feel like he’d been hit by a truck.

Everything ached, his limbs feeling heavy and sore in that way they did when you’d slept too much.  He was pretty sure…he vaguely recalled getting up…some time ago, because he’d had to pee.  He kind of sort of remembered staring at his reflecting in the mirror as he’d washed his hands, thinking he looked like shit before his eyes had dropped to his chest, where his own face had been staring back at him.  He couldn’t remember why he was wearing his own merch – there was some fuzzy idea about Crusher and curry and this was why he hadn’t asked Dingo to hit the road with him yet – but he was quickly ripping it over his head and tossing it towards the hamper they kept in the linen closet.

That was…it was…people like XY wore their own tour shirts.

At least the ones with their own faces on it.

(He had, both ironically and unironically, worn the shirt with “Luke Stone” stamped in fancy letters across his chest.  That one wasn’t as obnoxious, and sometimes helped in busy airports.)

He must have made it back to the bed, because he was pretty sure that’s where he was now.  In bed, with Marinette, where he was supposed to be.  He had no idea what time it was, though, or how much had passed.  He had thought it was light out when he’d gotten up earlier, but those were streetlights coming in through the open window.  And that was definitely Marinette under him, but he wasn’t sure how awake she was.  Her heartbeat was steady, her breathing even, but her fingers were lazily dragging through his hair.  Her other hand…was on his arm, absently stroking along his bicep.  He sighed and turned his face towards her, his nose squishing as it poked against her sternum.

“Are you finally waking up?” her soft voice came from above him.  He hummed and dropped a kiss between her breasts.  She giggled in response.  “Luka?”

“Not sure,” he sighed.  “Pretty comfy right here.  Don’t think I want to move yet.  How long…how long was I out?”

He yawned in the middle of it, and she hummed as she tugged gently on his hair.

“Over a day,” she said.  “Almost two.”

He pushed himself up at that, startled eyes staring back at her.

“…no,” he said.  She giggled and moved her hand from his arm, reaching for him, and there was something…he froze again as he saw Gina’s ring glinting in the low light from the window.  His eyes widened, a look of horror on his face.  “No…”

“You were exhausted,” she said.  “Penny said you’d had a rough couple of days.  You needed it, star.”

“Marinette, why are you…did you go through…my bag,” he groaned as bits of the last twenty-four (forty-eight?) hours started to come back to him.  He grabbed at her fingers, his brow furrowing as he stared at the gleaming pink opal shining up at him from a very specific finger.  He hadn’t…he hadn’t actually…and had she…he would remember proposing to her, wouldn’t he?

“Penny brought it by this morning,” she said, curling her fingers over his and smiling.  “Everything’s fine.  It actually was on the plane – just mislabeled.  It’s ok.  See?  Your bag was fine.  The ring was inside.  It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head.  “Darning, you…why are you wearing it?  You weren’t supposed to know.”

“You told me,” she said, as if it was obvious.  And maybe it was, because he kind of remembered her  being there while he freaked out over losing the ring in the first place?  “When they lost your bag, you told me what was in it.  It’s ok, Luka.”

“It’s not,” he insisted.  “Did…did I actually propose?”

She bit her lip, and he groaned as he dropped his face against her chest.

“No.  No, no, no, no, no…” he groaned.  “Please tell me I at least remembered the candles.  Rose said there had to be candles – she’s going to kill me if I forgot the candles.”

Marinette grew silent for a moment.  Long enough that he started to worry, but when he looked up at her she just looked…surprised.

“…oh,” she finally said, shaking her head.  “You…you mean you did have a plan?”

“Of course I had a plan,” he said.  He winced at her look.  “Well…parts of a plan.  I knew it had to be romantic.  Rose was helping – and Tom – so I’d do it right.  Big gesture kind of thing.”

“It really didn’t,” she said, touched but also slightly baffled.

“You love that stuff,” he insisted.

“I love you,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “The rest is just…details.  Filler.  Icing – not even that.  It’s sprinkles.”

“And you love sprinkles!” he said.  “Mari.  Please.  I know you.  Tell me I didn’t fuck this up.”

“You didn’t,” she insisted.  She looked back at the ring and bit her lip, a little frown creasing her brow.  “…I might have, though.”

“…what?” he asked.  She sighed and pulled him down towards her, and for a moment he was too lost in how good it felt to be home and kissing her to remember he was supposed to be freaking the hell out.

“Penny told me to give the stupid ring back.  Take it off before you woke up.  Penny’s always right,” she sighed, and at his frown she bit her lip.  “You…you didn’t actually ask, Luka, but you did let it slip, and that was as good as asking for me.  But you…actually, you were really adamant about the fact that you were not asking.  Not until you actually had the ring, at least.”

He…kind of remembered that?

“Because I was supposed to ask you right,” he huffed.  “Big, romantic gesture.  I was supposed to actually have the ring.  It was all supposed to mean something.”

“…well, that’s just stupid,” she said, shaking her head.  She tugged on his hair again, and he groaned as he pressed his forehead into her shoulder.  “Of course it means something – you’re asking me to marry you.  That very much means something, Luka, whether you have a ring or a big proposal planned or not.”

“I was working on that,” he sighed.  “Failing at that.  Nothing felt good enough.”

“Will it matter anything if I tell you I really don’t care how you ask as long you just do?” she sighed, bringing her hands up to cup his face.  Her thumb brushed beneath his eye, and he sighed as he leaned into her touch.  “Seriously.  Luka, I was never expecting a big proposal from you.  I…honestly, I always expected you to do it by accident.”

“…what?” he asked, chuckling slightly.  “Marinette.  Give me a little more credit than that.”

“No, seriously!  I was waiting for you to just…ask.  Spontaneously.  Because I said something dumb and you thought it was adorable, or you got into one of your artistic moods where you started comparing my heartbeat to Pachelbel or something –”

“I would never,” he laughed, but she just lifted an eyebrow at him because he had compared it to Beethoven.  Once.

(…and classic Jagged another time, but he had regretted that the second he’d said it and had never brought it up again because who wants to think about their dad when they’re…ahem.)

“My point, Luka, is you are not a planner, and this…this feels like us, doesn’t it?” she asked, tapping the finger with the ring against his face.  It felt heavier, though he knew that had to be in his head.  The ring wasn’t really that heavy – not enough to notice a difference.  Still, it felt…  “You losing the ring and accidentally telling me about it because you were too tired to think straight.  That…that’s so us, don’t you think?  More than some big, elaborate, ridiculous thing?”

“Rose would argue I’m cheating you out of romance,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I love Rose, I do, and you know I love romance, but…maybe conventional romance isn’t our romance?  What about us has ever been traditional, Luka?  You’re a Couffaine, for Pete’s sake,” she huffed.  He chuckled and kissed her.

“At the least you deserved a nice dinner,” he hummed.  “I know you love seeing me dress up.”

“I do at that,” she sighed, kissing him again.  “Almost as much as I love seeing you dress down.”

He chuckled, and she blinked as she leaned back.  He hummed, nipping at her lip to try to get her kissing him again, but she shook her head.

“No, that’s not…I mean undressing you.  After you’ve dressed up.  Or down.  Or…stop laughing, Luka, you know what I meant,” she huffed, but he was still chuckling as he tucked his face against her neck.  He pressed a kiss there before pulling away to grin at her.

“So maybe you give it back and let me take you to dinner tonight,” he suggested.  “Act all surprised when I get down on one knee.  I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to get down on one knee, at least.”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “With your knees?  You’ll never get back up.  Too many stage slides and superhero antics, remember?”

“Hey!” he laughed, bumping their noses together.  “My knees aren’t that bad yet!  I’m not that old!”

She laughed and kissed his cheek, as if apologizing for the slight, and he sighed as he turned his head and caught her lips again.  He felt like he had too much time to make up for, and he knew what they were talking about was important, but…

“My point, Luka, is that it doesn’t matter,” she said after a moment, tugging on his hair to keep him from distracting her again.  “Take me to dinner to celebrate the engagement, if you want, but I’m not taking it off.  I don’t want to.  It belongs there, as much as I belong with you.  I like wearing it.  I like being Marinette Couffaine.”

And oh, if that didn’t sound amazing…

“…it’s just an engagement ring, Marinette,” he said softly, all traces of humor gone from his voice.  He closed his hand over hers and brushed his thumb against the opal.  “I mean.  Technically it’s not, I don’t think, but Gina said you’d always loved this ring, and it felt…you do like it, right?  You’re not mad that it’s not very…traditional?”

She yanked his face towards hers, kissing him harshly.  Her fingertips pressed into his cheeks almost painfully.  He was a little dizzy when she finally let him go.

“You are not getting this ring back, Luka Llewellyn Couffaine,” she bit, her voice low and almost growling.  “It’s mine.  You are mine.  I love this ring, and I love you.  So just ask already so I can officially introduce myself as the future Mme. Couff–”

He pushed her back into the bed, his mouth back on hers and his hands grasping her own and pressing them into the pillows above them.  She started laughing, and that just made him want to kiss her more – until she squirmed and lifted her hips against him, and then he was reminded that she was there and his fiancée (technically) and he hadn’t seen her in three months…

“O…ok,” he panted, running his nose along the column of her neck as her hands moved along his sides.  “Marry me already.”

She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling almost as bright as the opal fire in her ring.  Maybe brighter.

…definitely brighter.

“Why, Luka Couffaine,” she said, smoothing his hair back and grinning up at him.  “I thought you’d never ask…”

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[siblingshuffle]

Day 16

I’m so sorry

Rock: I just don’t get how this has anything to do with today’s prompt.

Rhythm / Vesper Woman: Nobody tell him! Nobody tell him! Hahaha!

Bass: …This is stupid.

————— …look, I already did something sad for day 12. You get memes today, bucko.

[feything-n-frothing]

11 : snake eyes, yeehawgust

[luxaofhesperides]

“You know, I’ve spent years looking at the stars and yet, you still manage to outshine them all.” + fluff, established relationship ; requested by @xysidhequeen!

The Signal didn’t often go out at night. He sticks to working during the day as often as he can, a visible figure of safety that the people of Gotham could rely on. He mostly works alone during the day, with only his husband’s voice in his ear (and sometimes flying by his side), and spends the night recovering so he can do it all over again.

But tonight, he’s grappling through the streets, working with Batgirl and Red Hood to bust a trafficking operation. The rest of the Bats are either working cases in other parts of the world, or too injured to go out despite their best efforts to say otherwise. He’s already feeling tired, not as young as he used to be and lacking the energy he had in high school to do so much each day. 

They need the help, which is why he agreed to help out, but Danny had managed to switch him from being one of the heavy hitters to being backup and rescue, so he can whisk away any victims he finds through shadows to deliver them to Gordon, who waits on standby a few streets away with emergency medical services with him. Not a perk he was expecting from marrying someone else in the hero business, but definitely one he appreciates. 

He wishes Danny were still in his ears, humming softly on comms as Duke fits himself into the shadow of the warehouse the traffickers are hiding in. Batgirl and Red Hood take to the roofs as Duke slips inside, stepping out of the shadows onto the catwalk, crouching down so no one spots him. The shadows drape over him, a comforting weight, as he reaches out and rips away the weak lights on in the warehouse.

The added darkness allows Batgirl and Red Hood to slip inside, positioning themselves on the crossbeams, watching the people below them move about. 

They speak in hushed voices, eyes flickering nervously from the windows to the door. Guns are held in white-knuckled grips; they all know they shouldn’t step into Bat territory, but the call of powerful criminal families like the Falcones is too much for them to resist. 

“Victims should be held in freight boxes at the other end of the warehouse,” Red Hood says, voice low as he shifts his weight, ready to drop down and make the traffickers beg for mercy. 

“Try to draw everyone to this end, then, and I’ll get the victims out of here.”

“You got it. Ready, Batgirl?”

Batgirl lifts her cowl to tuck her blond bangs out of her face, then grins. “Ready.”

They drop from the ceiling at the same moment, landing on two traffickers and taking them out instantly. The warehouse is filled with shouts and gunfire as the vigilantes weave their way around the space, hitting hard and kicking away guns as soon as they can.

Duke grabs onto a shadow and follows it along the wall, letting it carry him down to the floor. No one guards the freight boxes, making it all the easier to wrench them open. The movement makes his left shoulder twinge, and Duke winces, knowing it’ll be a pain in the morning. 

The people huddled inside the freight box cry out, alarmed and frightened, when he steps inside. 

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m here to get you guys to safety,” he soothes, hands raised in front of him.

The youngest of them are the first to run to him, whispering fervent thanks as he pulls the shadows over them, hiding them from sight, then taking them to Gordon. He makes the trip multiple times, the other victims eager to be free from the hell they’ve experienced. 

There are tears and panic attacks and people clutching to each other, relieved that their nightmare is over. 

Thankfully, there weren’t that many victims. It’s the smallest silver lining, but after all these years, Duke knows to take what he can get. It’s all to easy to let despair take over. If he wants to save people, he has to keep fighting for the smallest hopes of a better future.

“All victims have been rescued,” he announces, standing outside the warehouse. “Need any help in there?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Batgirl says. Her words are followed by a grunt, a swear, and then her manic laughter. From the sound of it, someone got a lucky shot in and Batgirl repaid it with a particularly nasty nerve strike.

“We got it covered from here. Just need to interrogate a few guys, then we’ll let the pigs clean up this mess,” Red Hood adds. 

“Alright, I’m gonna head in, then.”

Batgirl sends him off with a cheerful “Sleep tight, don’t let the lovebugs bite too much!” It’s been years since he accidentally went on patrol with a fully visible hickey and she still refuses to let it go.

Duke sighs, then turns off his comm. He grapples up to the roof and begins making his way back towards the apartment, far too tired to bother with going to the Hatch. He’s got plenty of hidden storage space to hide away his suit for a day, and the Hatch doesn’t have Danny, so of course he’s not going to go there.

All he wants to do after such a long day is go home, where Danny should be.

Should be, because not even five minutes into crossing the city, Duke catches sight of the white star-glow of Danny up on a rooftop. 

He changes course immediately, turning towards Danny before he fully processes what he’s seeing, as if he’s being pulled into his orbit. 

Danny’s sitting on the edge of a building as Phantom, his gas mask hanging loose around his neck. 

He beams as Duke lands on the building, reaching up for him as Duke takes off his helmet and crouches down to kiss him. 

“You know,” Danny murmurs against his lips, “I’ve spent years looking at the stars, and yet you still manage to outshine them all.”

Six years of marriage and Danny still manages to fluster him. Duke laughs, dropping his head onto Danny’s shoulder. “Well, hello to you too, you flirt. What was that for?”

“I saw you saving those people tonight. They looked at you like you were the sun. I’m glad other people are seeing how wonderful you are.”

“You flatter me too much. What brought you out here so late? I thought you were sleeping.”

Danny shrugs, looking down at the street. “I tried, but a ghost insisted I follow them out here. I didn’t realize how close I was to you until I got here, and then I just couldn’t resist watching you in action.”

“And you wanted to make sure I was fine.”

“That too,” Danny admits. They’ve long since settled any arguments about trust and believing each other to be able to handle the fights they throw themselves into. Danny’s need to protect and self sacrifice because he’s ‘already dead, what’s another thirty bullets going to do?’ and Duke’s determination to do things his way, working off visions of the future he doesn’t have time to communicate meant they fought often and loudly in the early stages of their relationship. Time has tempered those feelings, and now it’s clear to see that Danny simply wants him safe, and Duke doesn’t mind using his status as a hero or his powers to give Danny some special treatment.

Danny checking up on him in fights doesn’t make him think Danny sees him as weak and in need of help. It just makes him feel loved, grateful to know his husband would always be there for him, even if it’s in the sidelines, ready to fly them home.

“What did the ghost need?” he asks, lifting his head from Danny’s shoulder. 

“Well…” Danny trails off. “How do you feel about pets?”

“Sweetheart, did a ghost ask you to adopt their dog?”

Danny’s expression falls, and Duke’s heart twists. He pulls Danny into his arms without second thought, offering him what comfort he could. 

“Not a dog,” he says. “And it wasn’t a human ghost. It was a cat. A cat that had kittens and died because there wasn’t enough food for her on the streets.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Duke says. Animal deaths have always hit Danny hard, and it’s this that made Damian accept Danny as part of the family, insisting on helping ghost animals with him.

“I’ve already texted Dami about the kittens. He’s going to swing by our place tomorrow to pick them up, but there are two that attached themselves to me and I don’t want to let them go.”

“Let’s go get them and take them home. And then we can start thinking of names for them.”

Danny peeks up at him shyly, then breaks out into a relieved smile. “Really? Thank you! I love you so much.” He jumps to his feet and kisses Duke quickly, then is flying down to get the kittens before Duke can do anything.

He flies back up with a cardboard box full of tiny little ‘meows’ that are already melting Duke’s heart from cuteness.

“I buried mama cat already, so I think we’re good to go.”

Duke aims his grapple again, and with Danny by his side, soars above the city. Neither of them are going as fast as they usually do, carefully aware of the kittens in the box. When they get to their apartment, Duke lands on the balcony and opens the door so Danny can fly in without risking intangible kittens escaping. He sets the box down gently on the floor of the living room, then grabs his wallet and flies out again, tossing a quick explanation of buying food for them over his shoulder.

Left alone with the kittens, Duke peeks into the box to coo at them before heading to the bedroom to change into sweatpants. His gear is left tucked into the back of the closet, hidden by some heavy winter coats. 

The kittens are crying when he gets back to the living room. Their little cries are too hard to resist, so Duke uses the shadows to create a small playpen for them, keeping them contained in a small area in front of the couch. He sits on the ground and carefully pulls each kitten out, freeing them from their cardboard confines. 

Within seconds, the kittens are toddling around unsteadily, so small and scraggly, with eyes that have only just opened peering around curiously. Duke pets them with a single finger, terrified of hurting their fragile bodies. 

He’s covered in kittens climbing over his lap when Danny returns.

His husband takes a moment by the door, in human form, to give him a sappy smile, so visibly in love it makes Duke blush. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, breathlessly, and carelessly drops his bag of kitten supplies on the ground to cross the distance between them and kiss Duke sweetly. 

“Such a sweet talker today,” Duke comments as he pulls away.

“Can you really blame me? I have the best husband in the world who saves people and kittens and has the best smile and reminds me how much good is still left in the world.”

Duke’s mind short circuits at Danny’s words. Instead of saying how much he loves Danny, with his need to protect, his big heart, the way he always puts his cold hands on Duke’s temples before Duke himself realizes how bad his migraine is, what he says is, “Can we name one of the kittens Polaris?”

“Best husband in the world,” Danny says again, his voice soft. “I love that name. Yes, let’s name one Polaris.”

Sitting there at almost four in the morning, just coming in from saving victims of human trafficking, should be exhausting and painful and lead to a long night of wondering how long he can keep fighting when there’s no end to human cruelty. But his heart is light, leaning into his husband with kittens crawling over them.

There is good in the world. So much good.

The best is sitting besides him in their dark living room, and Duke knows that as long as Danny is by his side, he’ll keep fighting for all the good still out there. The world could be so much better, and he’s determined to make it better for Danny.

A world where kittens are safe even in the streets. 

That’s the world he’ll make for Danny.

[yandere-daydreams]

i am FASCINATED by the placement of geto on the feral/domesticated axis. definitely agree that he's respectable but what has you so convinced he's feral?

i mean i do see it in the movie, the SMILES that man makes are craxy. but he feels so in control of himself, and not nearly as whimsical as gojo or sukuna. he has strong ideals and concrete plans that he follows through with rigidly.

no no no you have to open your mind to the Vision,,, the feral -> domesticated scale is less predictable -> unpredictable and more like 'actively seeking to be converted to an indoor cat' -> 'would refuse to be house trained out of principle'. gojo is silly but i strongly believe he would absolutely let himself be domesticated after experiencing .01 milliseconds of genuine affection. geto would not only bite the hand that feeds him but curl up in your lap and purr while you disinfect the puncture wounds. he can absolutely follow through on long-term plans which would normally leave him closer to the middle, but when those plans are to Kill Everyone Everywhere it sorta leaves him skewed away from the less-murderous side.

[thefollow-spot]

Sonnet: I’m Almost Me Again, She’s Almost You

Gwen & Merlin ● General Audiences ● WC: 107 ● Warning: MCD // Written for @merlinmicrofic 2024, for the prompt 'Almost'.

---

[thatonebirdwrites]

Poet

On AO3

The ballad of two hearts uniting as one Is eclipsed by the moon and the sun. Her emerald eyes gaze upon her, She meets with her own sapphire A spark ignites between the two Weaving all their lies and truths.

Kara soars above the city and closes her eyes. Sounds cascade and dance through her awareness: each melody of people's voices in tune with the rhythm of their steps; each harmony of insects with the pulsing of bird's chords; each rhythm of the heartbeats in tandem with the breeze's caress against trees and buildings alike.

One beat echoes above it all, her finely honed ears elevates the one heartbeat for which her own heart beats. There, in the penthouse downtown, it pulses in syncopation to the trickle of ice in a glass and the soft pouring of a liquid.

Their lives collide and strive with each day, pirouetting and flunging, they seek their way, Medusa, family, poisoning, a worldkilling crisis Broiling conflict pierces, what was once priceless shattered and infected, shards of brittle glass crumble hardened hearts, the lies can't last.

Lena pours her scotch over the ice cubes in her cup. The tinkle echoes in the lonely realm of her penthouse, the drab greyscale a reminder of her station but an affront to her personality.

Beyond, within her bedroom, colors shine in a warmth hue, to herald the effusive glow of the sun as if that alone will chase away the cold of her demons.

She steps onto the balcony and raises her face to the moon. Far above, the silver face narrows its eyes to judge the world beneath. The haze of streetlamps crowd away the milky flow of the stars. A few stubbornly peak through the gloom, their lights dimming and fading as the urban life poisons the darkness, illuminating any chance for freedom in the wash of night.

Two hearts intertwined and bound Lost for a time but soon found, Hurt and pain surge along their strings like puppets trapped forever performing. Escape the narrative, exist beyond, Surrender to a heart so very fond.

Kara opens her eyes and narrows her hearing to Lena's balcony. There she hears the symphony of Lena's existence. She dives and spins, a dance in the clouds, until she hovers before her loved one.

Lena, sheathed in moonlight from above and urban glow from below, stands like a goddess in Kara's sapphire eyes.

Kara, glowing with a residue of the sun, her blonde hair like water in the growing breeze, illuminates the sky in Lena's emerald eyes.

As one, they gravitate, their hearts intertwined, their dreams woven into a rainbow tapestry. Beyond the monochrome of Lena's fears, beyond the painted landscapes of Kara's grief, their hands press against one another, as if trapped on either side of an impenetrable glass.

Each night their hearts call to the other, their heartbeats in a rhythmic symphony, and their hopes brittle with past sorrows, past betrayals, past horrors.

And yet, their past is eclipsed by the moon and sun. No escaping the truth that unites them as one. The decorum of friendship shatters in one kiss, and in the glow of the city, they proclaim one wish.

Kara and Lena, hearts pulsing in a joyous accolade, the greyscale births into a multi-hued cascade, The bars of friendship dissolve in another kiss, In the glow of the bedroom, they unleash their wish.

[mochiiniko]

@sirwow and they were ROOMMATES

[fictionadventurer]

NaPoWriMo #15: A poem of at least ten lines where all lines start with the same word

Because

Because man doubted God, he ate the apple. Because man sinned, the garden gates were barred. Because Abram showed faith, God promised glory Because his sons would outnumber the stars.

Because they cried, God led them out of Egypt. Because He swept the sea, they passed dry-shod. Because they sinned, He gave them the commandments Because the Law helps man relate to God.

Because they feared the giant, God sent David. Because the shepherd trusted, he was king. Because the kingdom fell, God vowed salvation Because a savior from this stump would spring.

Because the virgin loved, she gave her fiat. Because she did, the Word became a man. Because she asked, her son made wine from water Because it was a sign of God's great plan.

Because the crowds were lost, He came and taught them. Because they starved, He gave them holy bread. Because the sick believed in Him, He healed them. Because they died, He raised them from the dead.

Because He was betrayed, He was arrested. Because He claimed God's name, they struck Him down. Because He claimed to be a king, they scourged Him. Because they mocked, He wore a thorn-filled crown.

Because the crowds demanded it, they hung Him. Because He loved, He offered no complaint. Because it was the will of God, He suffered Because it would atone for Adam's taint.

Because He died, the world did shake and darken. Because He died, they laid Him in a grave. Because all hope seemed lost, his friends all sorrowed Because it seemed He'd lost his chance to save.

Because He was God's Son, He rose victorious Because He had defeated death's domain. Because the women came, they found Him risen. Because He rose, He will forever reign.

Because of all Your faithfulness I praise You Because You showed Your Love through years of strife. Because You rose, I sing with great rejoicing Because You give your people lasting life.

[wanderingmaskdragons]

dragon doodles:

Myth

[hidey-writes]

wip wednesday

In the drifting silence of his empty apartment, Shen Wei presses the door shut, turns the lock. And then, like his body was waiting until he was alone, his legs give out. Shen Wei tips/topples against/into the wall, sinks down to sitting on the front mat/in the entryway. He sits there for a long time, curled into himself with his arms around his knees. The whole time, his body braced for the sound of Zhao Yunlan’s door opening, the sound of footsteps crossing the hall. Waiting, again, for Kunlun to return to him.  But no sound comes from outside his door. At last, Shen Wei tips his head back against the wall, lets out a soft, streaming sigh. The sound trembles in the still air. It’s the closest he’s come to crying in years, that he can remember.

from the up draft of the answer fic. im cutting it veryyyyyy close to the deadline this time ahahaha (nervous!) but the writing is going relatively smoothly (knocks on wood) and i think it'll turn out pretty delicious!!

[rh-confessions]

Do you want a new rhythm heaven game to happen or not? And why?

Feel free to tell us on the post or through the ask box!

[femalefemur]

alright everyone, gather round for the worms in my brain are wriggling about

[samuraisteve]

its already been nearly a year since rhythmtober,, im thinking of doing a list again this year, if anyone has some recommendations for prompts please comment them 🙏

[doomed-era]

thinking about it i absolutely like zelda fics that lean harder into the darker aspects of zelda and have a more serious tone but if i was playing say a zelda fangame i'd be incredibly picky about its tone and dialogue. it's part of the reason i've never played a fangame i just don't think people pay a lot of attention to how zelda dialogue is constructed and just how simplistic/silly it is so they wouldn't be able to recreate it