in my life he has burst like the music of angels the light of the sun

jehnt a réagi à votre billet “for reference: other options for Bahorel in The Worst Les Mis…”

Now I think the actual worst les mis playlist would be les mis characters as songs from les mis they didn’t sing in

h-holy crap … you’re right

Valjean - I Dreamed a Dream (I had a dream my life would be / so different from this hell I’m living / so different now from what it seemed / now life has killed the dream I dreamed)

Javert - A Heart Full of Love (in my life / [he] has burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun / and my life seems to stop as if something is over / and something has scarcely begun / in my life / there’s been no one like him anywhere)

Fantine - Valjean’s Soliloquy (if there’s another way to go / I missed it twenty long years ago / my life was a war that could never be won / I am reaching, but I fall / and the night is closing in)

Cosette - Red and Black (it is time for us all to decide who we are / do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now? / have you asked of yourselves what’s the price you might pay? / is this simply a game for a rich young boy to play? / the colours of the world are changing day by day)

Marius (about his father)  - On My Own (sometimes I walk alone at night / when everybody else is sleeping / I think of him and then I’m happy / with the company I’m keeping / the city goes to bed / and I can live inside my head)

Enjolras - Stars (those who follow the path of the righteous / shall have their reward /  stars in your multitudes, scarce to be counted / filling the darkness with order and light / you are the sentinels, silent and sure / keeping watch in the night)

Grantaire - At the End of the Day (at the end of the day you’re another day older / and that’s all you can say for the life of the poor / it’s a struggle, it’s a war / and there’s nothing that anyone’s giving / one more day standing about, what is it for? / one day less to be living)

Les Thenardier - The Confrontation (you know nothing of [Thenardier] / I was born inside a jail / I was born with scum like you / I am from the gutter too)

Eponine - Castle on a Cloud (there is a castle on a cloud / I like to go there in my sleep, / aren’t any floors for me to sweep / not in my castle on a cloud)

Mlle. Gillenormand (about M. Gillenormand) - Master of the House (Master of the house? Isn’t worth my spit! / comforter, philosopher’ and lifelong shit! / cunning little brain, regular Voltaire / thinks he’s quite a lover but there’s not much there / what a cruel trick of nature landed me with such a louse / God knows how I’ve lasted living with this bastard in the house!)

Gavroche - Epilogue (for the wretched of the earth / there is a flame that never dies / even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise)


Bahorel - Look Down (I know the meaning of those 19 years / a slave of the law)

You Need A Maid? Prologue

Fandom: Avengers / Marvel
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Swearing
Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, blah legal stuff. Don’t sue me, I’m poor.
Songs: I’m In Love With My Life - PHASES

Chapter Menu

Your name: submit What is this?

Six months ago the Avengers had finally decided enough was enough. “The bots did it *again* Tony.” Steve held up the shredded leftovers of what was once his boxers. “Maybe they’re encouraging you to go commando.” Tony hid a sly smile behind his coffee mug, eyeing the smirk he had earned from Natasha.

“Steve has a point, Tony. They’ve destroyed more things than they’ve cleaned since you made them,” Sam piped in, eager to make this the final conversation about the damn mechanical disasters. “I think it’s time to replace them.” Rolling his eyes and huffing into his coffee, Tony offered no response.

Making his way to Tony in all of three steps, Bucky grabbed the mug crushing it in his metal grip, lukewarm coffee spilling over both of them. “If you don’t get rid of the bots, I will.” Throwing up his arms in mock surrender Tony asked, “How do you want me to fix it?” The others shrugged, leaving his workroom. “Figure it out, Stark.”

Keep reading

At Lover’s Corner - W.D.W

AU: the second chance

(1,553 words)

Pairing: Fraser Pryce (C.B) x Reader

A/N: I cried writing this imagine, which probably isn’t a good sign. If you really want to suffer, listen to the first minute of “Magic Tree And I Let Myself Go” by Craig Armstrong while reading it. All due respect to Christina, by the way. :) I hope you don’t cry too much, loves.

warnings: angst, death

Year one.

The vows have been uttered, the wedding band adorning your left hand. Fraser carries you out of the church in his arms, the crowd cheering for the both of you. 

Congratulations,  Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year two.

Your white dress is hanging up in the closet, gathering dust. Your husband sits on the bed contentedly, letting his eyes roam and you catch him in the act. Flashbacks from your honeymoon come rushing back, remembering how the two of you were always running away together, kissing in alleyways.

Best wishes, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year three.

Crowds of beautiful flowers bloom in the shop. It’s your third anniversary - he has to leave on tour, but not before arranging a gift to be sent to his gorgeous wife. You come home from the airport feeling sad, yet the bouquet of roses left at your front door leave you speechless.

“Happy anniversary, my love.” it says on the card. 

Take care, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year four.

You’re a mother-to-be, sporting the prominent baby bump. Fraser’s resting his head on your belly, singing quietly, his angelic voice soothing to your ears. You feel a sense of pride and joy, knowing the unborn child you carry will have the greatest father they could ask for. He’d set the roses on the kitchen counter.

“I’m so grateful to have you, my love.” it says on the card. 

Good luck, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year five.

Your little bundle of joy has entered the world, her tiny hands latching onto her father’s forefinger. She has Fraser’s nose and his azure eyes, fused with your (y/h/c) hair and the perfect replica of that bright smile of yours he loved so much. Brielle is a dainty child, so petite compared to his large frame, but the both of you love her more than anything. The roses are waiting on the bedside table this year.

“Thank you for choosing me, my love.” it says on the card. 

God bless you, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year six.

Brielle squeals, happily tumbling around the house on her chubby legs. With tired eyes full of maternal love, you smile softly, opening your arms and beckoning her to come to you. She’s growing up just to look like her father, those sapphire eyes screaming of Fraser’s warmth. He’s away again, but as always, the roses are there at your front door.

“I don’t deserve you, my love.” it says on the card. 

Keep on, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year seven.

The angels have taken Brielle home tonight. Her frail heart had given out too early, and she went home in her sleep. You and Fraser sit together on the living-room couch, weeping bitterly at her loss. Your baby’s gone, and she isn’t coming back. The boys are there with you, joining in your show of tears. Fraser’s roses gild his late daughter’s coffin this year, your seventh anniversary being the bitter-sweet tale it is.

“You’re all I have left, my love.” he whispers in your ear. 

Sorry for your loss, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year eight.

It’s taken awhile to accept Brielle’s death, but the ache is slowly subsiding. Perhaps, it will always be a sensitive subject for you and your husband as the both of you pull out of the grieving process. He’d dealt with it through music, working in the studio every day from dawn till dusk. He’s fatigued and hurting, and you wrench him away from his desk to force him to take care of himself. 

Yet, despite his distance, the roses arrive at your door as on cue.

“Thank you for staying with me, my love.” it says on the card. 

Hold on, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year nine.

The sun is coming up again, the both of you alone in your hotel room as the others explored the new city you were visiting. Fraser had convinced you to come with him on tour this time, and you agreed, wanting nothing more than to be with him. As you were staring into each other’s souls in comfortable silence, he reaches out and cups your cheek with his hand, kissing you deeply - just like he did on your wedding day nine years ago. 

After the concert that night, he gently hands you his signature bouquet.

“We’re in this together, my love.”  says Fraser, sighing in awe of his beautiful wife. 

Stay young, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year ten.

Gathering around Brielle’s grave, you and Fraser pay your respects, kneeling beneath the ancient weeping willow tree that hung over your child’s final resting place. He and the boys sing her one last song in the fading daylight, fighting back the ghostly tears threatening to make a reappearance. 

Three years have passed since that fateful day, and since then the six of you all have grown up and begun families of your own. Fraser nearly bursts out crying when he sees Harvey’s little girl frolicking around the cemetery with her brother. She’s wearing what would’ve been Brielle’s dress, her coffee eyes wide with wonder and her bouncy curls blowing around in the summer breeze. 

He suddenly misses his daughter so much, watching his friends-turned-brothers gleefully run after their little ones. Yet, you’re there to comfort him, to put him back together, and this time it’s you who gives him your rose.

“We’ll be okay, my love.” you murmur, kissing his forehead. 

We wish you well, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year eleven.

The family friends are over for a barbeque this evening. Fraser, Benjamin, and Harvey are outside playing tag with the kids as Peter tends to the grill and Noah looks after the stereo, controlling the playlists. 

You’re in the kitchen baking an apple pie, catching up with the other wives as they cut the fruit beside you. You can’t help admire your husband from a distance, watching his lips curl up into a cheeky smile as he darts back and forth between the trees in the backyard. 

He’s happy again.

When it gets dark, Noah’s eldest takes the little ones inside to watch cartoons -  the adults now allowed enjoy some romantic couple-time together. 

An acoustic love song plays on the radio, the ten of you slowly waltzing under the milky fairy-lights and summer stars. You and Fraser take centre-stage, it being your eleventh anniversary, the others dancing around you in a warm, smitten stupor.

The wives had woven your roses into your hair a few minutes earlier, jumping up and down, cheering you on as Fraser suddenly dips you and brings his lips to yours in a long, gentle kiss.

“You are my world, my love.” Fraser whispers in your ear. 

Stay strong, Mr. & Mrs. Pryce.

Year twelve.

Hands entwined with his fingers, you wait restlessly at Fraser’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up. His breaths are few and far between, his chest raising ever so slightly as he gasps for air.

There was an accident last night. Your husband’s in a coma. The doctors say he may never wake up.

Twelve years together and today might be the day he joins Brielle at home with the angels.

Gripping onto his wrist, you beg for him to say something. Anything. Just one word, one utterance.

But the ward is deathly silent, filled with unspoken promises passing from one spouse to another.

It’s Fraser’s time to go. One last time, you press your lips to the back of his limp hand, barely holding back the sobs rising up from your throat. 

But just before you step out of the door forever, his eyes pry open, looking straight at you with all the love and admiration he can muster. Fraser smiles at you weakly, and the raw emotion coming from his sapphire eyes alone shatters your heart.

The heart-rate monitor flatlines. Those striking orbs snap shut once and for all. 

Farewell, Mr Pryce.

Year thirteen.

You’re alone in your apartment, flipping through your old photo albums and clutching your wedding ring in your hand. Today would’ve marked thirteen years of marriage between you and the love of your life. But he isn’t here. He’s gone, and you know you’ll never love again.

Setting the book down on the rug beside you, you lay down on the cold, hardwood floor and cry. 

You cry, and cry, and cry until there’s nothing left but an empty shell of what used to be a happy soul.

First, it was Brielle, and now it was Fraser. Life has taken everything away from you, and all you want to do is curl up into a ball and disappear. 

But the doorbell rings, startling you.

Opening the door, your eyes fill up again with tears as you see the melancholy sight in front of you.

It’s a bouquet of red roses, just like the ones Fraser would send to you every anniversary.

Hesitantly picking them up, you read the card and collapse onto the ground, sobbing like a waterfall.

“My love for you is eternal.” it read, being written by Fraser’s own hand. 

With it you saw the receipt, showing that he’d paid for years and years in advance. You closed the door, setting the roses on the kitchen bench like your husband once did.

Heal soon, Mrs. Pryce. Rest in peace, Mr. Pryce.

If you cried, let me know. 

anonymous asked:

Can you recommend some BTS authors ?

YES, YES, I CAN. THESE PEOPLE AND THEIR FICS ALL DESERVED TO BE LOVED. PLEASE SEND THEM LOVE. there’s no smut on this list though since I have never read anything from that genre and don’t plan to, so get ready for disgustingly cute fluff or heart wrenching angst. (also i’m totally copying rys’s idea of putting quotes, so copyright infringement 2016 rys the thirsty af jimin stan please don’t sue me i’m barely legal)

♡ An ; @zephyoongist

AN IS THE BESTEST, GREATEST, HELLA RAD-EST WRITER EVER. lmao this is probably favoritism, but she’s so extraordinarily talented at writing, and she’s my bffl even though we act like complete assholes to each other 24/7. She really enjoys wrecking my cold heart on a daily basis with her stories. Thanks a lot, Pablo. I really appreciate it.

  • “’It’s like the feeling you get when you’re running, the wind in your face, the pounding of your heart so fast, you’d think it’ll burst out of your chest, the sore of your muscles, you’d  feel like your legs are going to come off but you keep running. It’s like something intense─ It’s like─ It’s like─’ ‘─Love.’” - Lucky
  • “And it all comes crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Unanswered questions and needling doubt washes away like ashore writings on sand. That’s when he understands the encrypted message you’ve been trying to tell him. I’ll take all of you, good and bad.” - Summer in December

♡ Rys ; @optosomnio

ONE OF MY FAVORITEST PEOPLE IN THE WHOLE WIDE UNIVERSE. Her writing is really cute and fluffy, but also super duper comedic. And I absolutely love it. It’s like watching a rom com movie, except you’re reading it and it’s with bts. Can it get any better? and please send her memes and pick up lines, and also kappa and jimin pictures.

  • “It’s here and now–with the morning sun just barely peeking out from the roofs as you drowsily brush your teeth, toothpaste dripping from the corner of your mouth–that Taehyung finally decides that he is officially in love with you. And hopelessly so, he concludes.” - Seal
  • “He only laughs harder, as if set on pissing you off. Thoroughly annoyed, you bend down, grab a handful of the literal shit, and chuck it straight at his face. He doesn’t laugh at you for a good few years after that.” - Soul

♡ Mia ; @annyeongs

AH, MIA MY LOVELY CUTECUMBER AND FINEAPPLE; SHE’S SO SO TALENTED AT WRITING. She enjoys slaying me with her bts x hogwarts bulletpoint aus and her ghost au. Also, Jimin isn’t even my bias, but her scenarios are really making me rethink that. And, are you a 90 degree angel? Because you are looking right ayyy

  • “Sunset eyes watch them in silent agony, helpless fingertips itching to reach out, but mind reminding that it’s useless. He should be used to it by now, but strangely, it’s a painful kind of numbness he feels when he looks at them.” - Touch
  • “ He looks absolutely gorgeous and unearthly and breathtaking in the dimly lit room, the warm yellow rays of the streetlights reflected on his face as he tilts his head, and lets out a silent laugh. You can’t take your eyes off of him, especially not with the slight buzz of alcohol coursing through your system, and especially not when he’s smirking at you like that.” - Haunted

♡ Missy ; @an-exotic-writer

MISSY IS MY DARLING SUNSHINE FLOWER. She’s a complete sweetheart and she really needs to fly over and visit me, and help me get my driver’s license lol. Her writing is to die for, like it’s a gift from the gods or something, so please just read everything of hers. Oh, and are you a banana? Because I find you a-peeling wey hey

  • “But when Taehyung’s looking at you with such love and adoration in his eyes and when he smiles, it’s like you’ve found the true meaning of home, you’re willing to take a chance on it.” - fwb; taehyung
  • “’Drop the next beat!” Hoseok hollers, already putting on the next track and in between, Yoongi may or may not have forgotten his words and lines because maybe, he’s lost them all to you.” - Stolen Words

♡ Vivian ; @jiminniejuseyo

VIVIAN WRITES SO BEAUTIFULLY AND POETICALLY I CRY. Compared to art, her writing is like the sistine chapel ceiling frescoes, yep. And, she’s oh so wonderful and really sweet, and yeah, go adore her and her stories please because I sure do.

  • “He smelled nice, woodsy; of his light, iris scented shampoo and morning dew scented shower gel – whatever that was – an aroma of coffee all over him and the faintest, tiniest hint of rose scented mattresses. Home.” - All That Matters
  • “You grinned coyly, the relaxing coldness of the revolver in your left hand soothing you as you peered around the large lobby, meeting the hungry gazes of men as he glanced down your body, clad in high waisted shorts and denim jackets.” - Queen of Disaster

♡ Sasha & Chloe ; @hobieful

SASHA IS SUCH A CUTIE PATOOTIE. And I’ve never spoken to Chloe, but she seems like really chill and nice, so heyyy there if you see this. But also, they’re both super amazing writers, so it’s like a double threat. If you’re looking to get wrecked twice, then I direct you to their blog.

  • “’But I never had a place, not in your house of memories.’ His cries were like the cry of a werewolf, writhing in agony from its transformation. Only this one, the agony seeped more than into his bones, it seeped deep into his heart.” - House of Memories
  • “But then he turns towards you, and his eyes lock into yours, darker than black yet filled with a silver that promised life, and glinting with something you couldn’t exactly place your finger on. Even as your mind wiped itself, there is one thought that fixed itself in your mind: he can be covered in the color, but he will never, ever be white.” - Heartstrings

♡ Alyssa ; @taehxyung

ALYSSA IS A BEAUTIFUL GODDESS WHO DESERVES MUCH LOVE. She has made me cry over hogwarts jungkook every time I read it because wow, it’s a masterpiece; I love it so much. And the rest of her writing is equally destructive to your heart.

  • “Your eyes widened as you twisted in your seat to look at your Professor and a startled Jungkook. And, maybe, if you looked hard enough and passed the smug smirk, you could see his conceited look falter, a look of hurt flashing across his eyes.” - Amortentia
  • “You pitied him, sure, but you knew full well that Kim Taehyung liked Christmas less than any human being surely did and so blaring Christmas music to annoy him was rather fun.” - Mistletoe & Eggnog

♡ Kristen ; @jjungkooked

KRISTEN CAN UTTERLY RUIN YOU WITH A SINGLE SENTENCE GODDAMN. Her writing is absolute heaven, and it makes me smile and feel all nice and fuzzy inside. Sit by the window, curl up with a mug or hot chocolate or a tub of ice cream, and enjoy her writing.

  • “You definitely love him – he’s the kindest, most caring and supportive boyfriend you’ve ever had. There are days when you have to stop to think, to simply admire his entire existence. You’re convinced that you must have performed some incredible miracles in your past life to be able to deserve this boy.” - A Safe Place
  • “You crinkle your nose and blush at this, as does he, because Jungkook has these random moments where he blurts out incredibly cliché and cringe-worthy phrases that always leave you stuck between wanting to strangle him and wanting to kiss him.” - The Little Things


SHE’S LIKE A MIX OF SMARTICLES, TALENT, AND BEAUTY. like oh my goodness, her scenarios are so incredibly fluffy and sweet, they should be called cotton candy. I wholeheartedly admit that I am a complete sucker for her writing, and I adore it so so much.

  • “It wasn’t strange for Taehyung to be giving you pet names; the boy has an extensive list of terms ranging from cupcake to plum to hazelnut– never have you heard him call you the same thing twice, but they all share the common aspect of revolving around food, usually sweet, just like him.” - Honey
  • “’Hmm, what about –’ you turn to Jimin at the same time he dips his head down to press his lips against yours, cutting you off midsentence. A squeak, or a halfway hiccup sounds and catches in your throat, mostly at the kiss but also about how soft and full Jimin’s lips are on yours; they feel as nice as they look.” - Hiccups

♡ Faryn & Cherri ; @bapsae-bae

So, I have not talked to these two wonderful, amazingly talented human beings before, but I just found their writings, and can I just say, I fell completely in love with their stories? Faryn’s fluff slays me so much, and Cherri’s gang au leaves me in suspense, and wowie.

  • “And you couldn’t focus when his lips were kept moving like that, with words you couldn’t process tumbling gracefully from his mouth. His hair was tinted so beautifully with a glow from the backdrop of the setting sun and your mind was white noise so you didn’t stop yourself from cutting him off and pressing your lips to his.” - Sunset Frost
  • “This so-called candyman was completely gorgeous, and you could only stare from your frozen position on the floor when you realized so. You watched as his eyes trailed the store until he caught eye of your cousin and was suddenly leaning over the glass counter with a heartstopping playful smile gracing his lips.” - Candyman

I hope you did not combust from all those feels after reading all their writing, bUT THOSE ARE MY AUTHOR RECS. I HAVE MORE ON MY REC PAGE AND REC TAG :) but also, please send me recs, too; i have a hard time finding nonsmut fics tbh

Teenage Marius going through a Goth phase though.

His hair is naturally black so he adds red streaks, much to his grandad’s chagrin.
And he is always listening to Evanescence whilst colouring his nails in with Sharpie and writing poetry about that beautiful brunette in his maths class.

“In my life, she has burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun!”

“Marius, you’ve spoken to her twice -”


Love is Only You ~ Yonghwa

This is for Anon and Anon! I hope you both like it and think that it is fluffy enough for the both of you! Thank you both for the requests and letting me write for such and amazing guy <3

Request: Here and Here

Staring at the clock, watching the second hand tick as the minute hand moved even slower and yet there was the hour hand that moved the slowest. Wanting to turn the clock to the exact moment when Yonghwa came home was what you were trying to do with your eyes as they were glued onto the second hand.

Cradling your head in the palm of your hand, sighing you tapped your fingers against your cheek as your other hand felt the smooth glass, the ground edges and the divots in your case where you have dropped your phone on multiple occasions.

Glancing down at the quiet device in your hand, you lit up the screen as you opened up your messaging app.

How is everything going?

You messaged your boyfriend as you let the screen turn black, moving your eyes back to the clock, you felt a vibration in your hand as you swiped your screen to open the message.

Sorry sweetie, I have to stay late tonight, I have to finish this song by tomorrow. - Y

Have you had dinner yet?

Not yet. - Y

Can I bring you over some dinner and just be with you while you work?

Biting your lip, you hadn’t asked anything like this before but you sent the message, staring at your phone now it lit up again as you smiled at his response.

I love your company <3 - Y

I’ll be right over with some yummy dinner for you too :D

“She is so sweet” Yonghwa said to himself as he picked up his pen and twirled it between his fingers as a blank, lined paper stared back at him.

Tapping the butt of his pen on the paper below, he rocked his head back onto the wall as he tried to think.

“I need something to base it on.” He closed his eyes as he tried to think of previous songs that he had done. After a while, he couldn’t think of anything as he hissed, running his fingers through his hair ruffling it up.

Carefully walking through the halls of FNC Entertainment with a bag of food in your hand, you tried to find the room that Yonghwa was working in. Looking all around, you couldn’t find the room that the lady at the front desk had said that he was in. Quickly pulling out your phone you typed a message to him hoping that he would get it and find you.

I’m lost, I don’t know where I am.

Are you in the building? - Y

Yes, I just don’t know where you are. :(

Yonghwa chuckled at your message as he knew that you always got confused in one part of the building, getting up from his spot he opened the door and casually walked down the hall as he saw you trying to figure out where you were with the numbers on the door. A soft smile broke onto his face.

“Jagiya~” He called as you turned around quickly, your face lit up instantly as you jogged down to him. He opened his arms as you ran into them wrapping yours around him once you two met.

“Thank you for coming to find me” You said against his chest as he smirked, petting your hair.

“Anytime beautiful.” He kissed your head gently as both of you pulled away from the hug. Moving your hand into his, he smiled and brought you back to the room that he was working in.

With a large desk, a couch and a table filling the smaller room, the light from the window filled the room with a soft light as both of you walked in and took a seat on the couch.

“Did you have a good trip over here?” Yonghwa asked as he took the bag from your hands and set it on the table in front of both of you.

“Ne, just a little traffic today.” You smiled while pulling out the dinner for two. Helping you with the food, he smiled just hearing your voice.

“You got my favorite!” He beamed, opening up the main dish.

“I thought you would need it for your song.” You smiled, taking your chopsticks you lifted some food to his mouth as he happily opened his mouth while you guided the food in. His pink lips wrapped around the chopsticks as you pulled them out slowly. Watching a smile melt on his face was priceless as he repaid you with the same small gesture, causing both of you to laugh.

“What? I tried to feed you.” Yonghwa defended as your chuckle escalated to a full out laugh.

“It was a really big bite.” You giggled out as you put your hands on your stomach as both of you became infected with laughter.

“I thought you were hungry.” He giggled back as he fell back onto the couch trying to catch his breath, but every time he looked over at you, both of you burst out in laughter again.

“I am” You smiled as the giggles began to reside in both of you. Yonghwa grabbed the food and brought it over to the two of you as he fed you smaller bites, as you fed him a little bit bigger ones.

Once most of the food was gone and both of you were full, he set the empty containers on the table.

“Thank you for dinner, it was divine.” He kissed your forehead sweetly while you leaned on his shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me come over.” You looked up at him with a smile.

“I needed some inspiration.” He tightened his grip on your side as you smiled brighter.

“Did you come up with any ideas while I was coming over?” You asked him, sitting up as you cleaned up your little mess.

“No” He replied sadly, getting up, he helped you as you took the bag to the trash as he grabbed his pen and paper.

“Maybe I could help you.” You smiled sitting back on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder once again.

“Go for it!” He smiled down at you while his arm wrapped around your waist as your fingers played with his.

“What about a song about your members?” You asked while your fingers played with his loose bracelet.

“Are you crazy!?” He giggled as he tickled you a little more as you curled your legs under you.

“Hmmm. What about something you love? Like acting?” You offered your ideas as he played with the pen.

“Let me try that!” He got an idea as he began to write something down on his note pad.

The hours rolled on as you tried to help Yonghwa think of something to write a song about. Several crumbled-up balls of paper around the room, he was becoming frustrated as it was approaching midnight. Standing up, he paced around the room as you tried to help him with more ideas. Shaking his head softly at your attempts to help him, you began to yawn as sleep was taking you over.

“________, if you want to fall asleep, go ahead. I am sure I will think of something.” He said softly as you nodded, laying down on the couch.

“What about one of your dreams?” You whispered into the air as your body relaxed into the couch, sleep pulling you into its arms.

Yonghwa walked around the room for hours, you were fast asleep on the couch. Sigh after sigh, he racked his brain trying to think of the perfect song. Sitting on the desk, he watched you for a while as your chest moved up and down slowly, your curves were seen under the light blanket he had put over you a few hours ago. Smiling to himself, something clicked in his head. Folding his legs under him he smiled as his hand quickly worked to write down the ideas that were racing through his head.

The early morning sun lit the whole room, making it too bright for you to sleep. Opening your eyes slowly, they adjusted to the bright light, your fingers gently grasped what was in your hand as you smiled feeling Yonghwa’s hand in yours. Rolling your head to the side you smiled at his sleeping figure.

His disheveled hair that gently covered his eyes, his pink lips that were slightly parted, his wrinkled shirt from sleeping against you, his peaceful carefree face that relaxed. Looking onto him like and angel, you were met with his note pad between you. Carefully taking it out from his hands, you flipped to the first page as you read the lyrics carefully.

Love is only you
Love is only you
Love is only you yeah
Love is only you
ma Love is only you
Love is only you
ma Love is only you
Only you
ma Love is only you you you

Whether listening to some wonderful music
Or walking around the beautiful streets
I think of you, think of you
Just thinking has my heart thumping
Whether watching a touching movie
Or wearing pretty clothes, always you, always you
(You) appear in my head, smile and smile
Not a single word is needed, (but I) know just by my feelings
My heart has confessed it all, I love you

You are my sunshine of my life
my sunshine of my heart
Oh, please stay by my side, whisper to me that you love me
You are my sunshine of my life
my sunshine of my heart
Every day, I want to be held tight in your arms
For sweet dreams, sweet dreams, baby

Love is only you
ma Love is only you
Love is only you
ma Love is only you
Love is only you
ma Love is only you you you

Uh, though you don’t mean to make me laugh out loud
With no interesting story at all
Looking at you, I smile without my knowing
With no reason at all, my face is full of smiles

Have I exposed my heart yet? I’m not worried
Because you’re totally special, I don’t hide myself
I just want to show you my heart toward you, as it is
To you, I want to be a tree that keeps giving

Please look into my eyes and tell me that you love me
Can you hear my heart beat?

You are my sunshine of my life
my sunshine of my heart
Oh, please stay by my side and whisper to me that you love me
You are my sunshine of my life
my sunshine of my heart
Every day, I want to be held tight in your arms
For sweet dreams, sweet dreams, baby

When I am down, I only have to think of you
Then smiles will fill up my face without my knowing
24 hours, oh oh, isn’t enough for me at all
All day long, my head is filled with only you
Oh no no no no no

You are my sunshine of my life
my sunshine of my heart
Oh, would you please gently hold my little hands?
You are my sunshine of my life
my sunshine of my heart
Every day I confess to you
I love you, love you, baby

Love is only you
ma Love is only you
Love is only you
ma Love is only you
Love is only you only you
only you only you

Smiling at his sweet work, you looked over at him as he still slept peacefully beside you.

“You’re so talented” You leaned in and kissed his cheek gently. “I love you.” Moving into his embrace, you set the note pad on the edge of the table, before wrapping your arms around him. The sound of his steady breath and his slow heart beat lulled you back to sleep in his arms and secure arms.

Top 10 Greatest LSD Quotes

#10 - JERRY GARCIA [1942-95]
“Nobody stopped thinking about those psychedelic experiences. Once you’ve been to some of those places, you think, ‘How can I get back there again but make it a little easier on myself?’”
—Quoted in Rolling Stone, November 30, 1989

“LSD burst over the dreary domain of the constipated bourgeoisie like the angelic herald of a new psychedelic millennium. We have never been the same since, nor will we ever be, for LSD demonstrated, even to skeptics, that the mansions of heaven and gardens of paradise lie within each and of us

"If God dropped acid, would He see people?”

#07 - BILL HICKS [1961-94]
“Always that same LSD story, you’ve all seen it. ‘Young man on acid, thought he could fly, jumped out of a building. What a tragedy.’ What a dick! Fuck him, he’s an idiot. If he thought he could fly, why didn’t he take off on the ground first? Check it out. You don’t see ducks lined up to catch elevators to fly south—they fly from the ground, ya moron, quit ruining it for everybody. He’s a moron, he’s dead—good, we lost a moron, fuckin’ celebrate. Wow, I just felt the world get lighter. We lost a moron! I don’t mean to sound cold, or cruel, or vicious, but I am, so that’s the way it comes out. Professional help is being sought. How about a positive LSD story? Wouldn’t that be news-worthy, just the once? To base your decision on information rather than scare tactics and superstition and lies? I think it would be news-worthy. 'Today, a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream and we’re the imagination of ourselves’ … 'Here’s Tom with the weather.’”

#6 JIM MORRISON [1943-71]
“In the beginning we were creating our music, ourselves, every night … starting with a few outlines, maybe a few words for a song. Sometimes we worked out in Venice, looking at the surf. We were together a lot and it was good times for all of us. Acid, sun, friends, the ocean, and poetry and music.”

#5 KEN KESEY [1935-2001] 
“I believe that with the advent of acid, we discovered a new way to think, and it has to do with piecing together new thoughts in your mind. Why is it that people think it’s so evil? What is it about it that scares people so deeply, even the guy that invented it, what is it? Because they’re afraid that there’s more to reality than they have confronted. That there are doors that they’re afraid to go in, and they don’t want us to go in there either, because if we go in we might learn something that they don’t know. And that makes us a little out of their control.”
—Quoted in the BBC documentary, “The Beyond Within: The Rise and Fall of LSD,” 1987

#4 TOM WOLFE [1931- ] 
“The Pranksters had what looked like about a million doses of the Angels’ favorite drug—beer—and LSD for all who wanted to try it. The beer made the Angels very happy and the LSD made them strangely peaceful and sometimes catatonic, in contrast to the Pranksters and other intellectuals around, who soared on the stuff … The Angels were adding LSD to the already elaborate list of highs and lows they liked, beer, wine, marijuana, Benzedrine, Seconal, Amytal, Nembutal, Tuinal. Some of them had terrible bummers—bummer was the Angels’ term for a bad trip on a motorcycle and very quickly it became the hip world’s term for a bad trip on LSD. The only bad moment at Kesey’s came one day when an Angel went berserk during the first rush of the drug and tried to strangle his old lady on Kesey’s front steps. But he was too wasted at that point to really do much.”
—The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, 1968

#3 TIMOTHY LEARY [1920-96] 
“'Turn on’ meant go within to activate your neural and genetic equipment. Become sensitive to the many and various levels of consciousness and the specific triggers that engage them. Drugs were one way to accomplish this end. 'Tune in’ meant interact harmoniously with the world around you—externalize, materialize, express your new internal perspectives. Drop out suggested an elective, selective, graceful process of detachment from involuntary or unconscious commitments. 'Drop Out’ meant self-reliance, a discovery of one’s singularity, a commitment to mobility, choice, and change. Unhappily my explanations of this sequence of personal development were often misinterpreted to mean 'Get stoned and abandon all constructive activity.’”
—Flashbacks, 1983

#2 HUNTER S. THOMPSON [1937-2005]
“That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary’s trip. He crashed around America selling ‘consicousness expansion’ without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him too seriously … All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours, too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped to create … a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody—or at least some force—is tending the Light at the end of the tunnel.”
—Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,

#1 ALBERT HOFMANN [1906-2008] 
“Of greatest significance to me has been the insight that I attained as a fundamental understanding from all of my LSD experiments: what one commonly takes as 'the reality,’ including the reality of one’s own individual person, by no means signifies something fixed, but rather something that is ambiguous—that there is not only one, but that there are many realities, each comprising also a different consciousness of the ego. One can also arrive at this insight through scientific reflections. The problem of reality is and has been from time immemorial a central concern of philosophy. It is, however, a fundamental distinction, whether one approaches the problem of reality rationally, with the logical methods of philosophy, or if one obtrudes upon this problem emotionally, through an existential experience. The first planned LSD experiment was therefore so deeply moving and alarming, because everyday reality and the ego experiencing it, which I had until then considered to be the only reality, dissolved, and an unfamiliar ego experienced another, unfamiliar reality. The problem concerning the innermost self also appeared, which, itself unmoved, was able to record these external and internal transformations. Reality is inconceivable without an experiencing subject, without an ego. It is the product of the exterior world, of the sender and of a receiver, an ego in whose deepest self the emanations of the exterior world, registered by the antennae of the sense organs, become conscious. If one of the two is lacking, no reality happens, no radio music plays, the picture screen remains blank.”
—LSD: My Problem Child, 1980

Where Does Faith Go When the Idol Dies?

Warnings/Tags: S12 Spoilers, Destiel, DeanCas hug, Castiel’s got a lot of feelings

Despite their doubts, humans put a lot of faith in things falling from the sky. As Castiel hurdles to the Earth’s cracked crust, he hears many wishes. Short bursts of hope flash through his grace like matches sparking to life. All that longing twists inside his chest, and when his shoulder finally crashes into the ground, his grace explodes out. A whimper escapes his throat before his anger boils through his veins. He stares up at the actual stars, the ones that never fall. Those burning figures who watch humanity in solitude until they implode on themselves.

After seven years being the Winchesters’ pseudo-guardian angel, he finds that life boring. The pain singing through his head, the ache in his fingers, the way his body reacts like a live wire to his grace, it’s all brighter than any amount of etherealness in the sky.

His wings shuffle in another dimension, primary feathers arched up to keep his balance as he stands. Castiel glares at the human before him, ignoring the skip of his heart when he sees the plaid flannel. “Where am I?”

“Earth.” Cas bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying no shit.

“How far am I from Lebanon, Kansas?” Castiel says, but he wonders how far he is from Sam, from Dean’s body, from an empty home.

“3 hours.”

As Castiel puts the man to sleep, he swallows back the taste of ash that threatens to overwhelm his taste buds. Truck in gear, he slams his foot down on the gas pedal.

3 more hours. It’s already been 13 hours and 37 minutes since he last saw Dean Winchester. The angel’s knuckles turn white around the steering wheel as he forces himself to keep from praying. He knows his Father won’t hear. His Father is probably dead with Dean. Three hours he’s failing Dean. The hunter’s green eyes fill the dark shadows in the cab, their acceptance of finite existence loud in the silence.

He rolls the windows down, allows the wind slam into his eardrums. The roar of the old pickup vibrates up his spine and he lets his headache remain. He isn’t sure if it’s a self-inflicted punishment for failing to keep Sam safe, or if it’s to make him feel human again.

The first hour passes. 14 hours. Sam could be dead. He could be gone from the bunker. The woman who banished him from the bunker, her soul is burned into his mind. Castiel grits his teeth as he remembers the red determination knotted in her chest. She’s not the first to try and destroy the Winchester boys, to threaten his charges. And she certainly won’t be the first to feel the brunt force of Castiel’s protective wrath.

Throughout the second hour, the silence tortures him. While the shadows stare at him with Dean’s eyes, the air whispers with his voice. The night tells him to take care of Sam. Tells him it’s okay he’s dying. Tells him he’s grateful for everything. Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the road slip away underneath the tires.

His eyes snap open again and her jerks the steering wheel to lead the truck back onto the road. He can’t die. Not wrapped around a tree. He’ll just get kicked out of his vessel. And he can’t face Dean in Heaven with this green guilt growing on his grace like mold.

He blinks and the radio bursts into static life. He glares at the lines as they rush by, using his grace to find a station he can stand. Sometimes he listens to NPR or random talk shows, enjoying the continuous chatter. It reminds him of the voices of his brethren before he decided to block them from his mind. This time, he listens to music.

He comes across a classic rock station. Bob Seger’s Turn the Page pushes itself through the warped speakers, the man’s deep voice tickling Castiel’s ear. After a couple seconds, the angel’s grace rushes from him, frying the wiring of the radio. He glares at the streetlights until he sees blue spots when he blinks.

The radio is an easy fix. One thought and a different type of music fills the cab. He never quite got to listen to newer music. Dean never allowed for such blasphemy. This man’s voice is higher, but the desperation in it matches Seger’s. The longing, the loss. This man is a motherfuckin starboy just like Castiel.

Castiel allows the whole song to play, allows the station to stay on even as he enters his third hour on the road. The melodies are simple, the words sometimes happy, sometimes sad. Castiel doesn’t really listen to those aspects, just lets the vibrations soothe the tightness in his chest. But every song flitters by without alleviating the pressure.

Closer to the bunker, the angel pushes the vehicle as fast as it can go. With no cars around him, he’s free to race into the grassy area outside the bunker’s door. Stepping out of the rusting truck, he looks at the place. The warding sigils shimmer as they always have, the door bolted shut. He opens it as quietly as he can, unable to sense if anyone is still within the bunker. His grace still stings from the banishing sigil.

With a grunt, he opens the heavy door and descends the stairs. The lights buzz around him and there’s a blood stain on the floor. He kneels beside it, touching the dried liquid with his finger tips. Sam.

Castiel scowls, then stands quickly when he hears a shuffling of feet. He refrains from calling Sam’s name, not wanting to alert a possible intruder of his presence. However, he does boldly stride towards the sound. A woman turns around a pillar and points a revolver at him. One of Dean’s revolvers. The one he keeps hidden under the table. She’s wearing a bomber jacket and jeans and work boots, long blonde hair partially put up behind her head. With her easy stance and steady arm, it’s easy to place her as a hunter of some sort.

“Hands in the air. Get on your knees.” The woman’s voice shakes. A nervous hunter.

“Who are you? And where is Sam?” Castiel demands, still striding towards the woman without fear of the weapon in her hands.

She cocks the gun. Castiel takes another step forward. “Hands now,” she hisses.

His hand twitches, ready to send her flying to the closest wall. Ready to interrogate her about Sam. Ready to carve his lost faith into her skin.

A voice echoes through the library. A voice Castiel has memorized. A voice Castiel has tried to ignore for the past 17 hours.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend.” The woman in front of him blurs. The bunker around him blurs. His grace roars like the wind did in the car. Dean holds his hand out to the woman, eyes trained on her. He hasn’t looked at Castiel yet, but the angel is already seeing the green and gold flecks in those irises. He can already see a glimpse of Dean’s soul, can feel the relief resonating inside Dean in his own grace. Dean’s longing, the song that’s played in his chest ever since he raised the man from perdition, blooms inside him again.

Castiel stares at his charge, questions rushing through his mind even as he stands in shock. Dean’s eyes turn to him as slowly as Pluto circles the Sun. Grace implodes inside him and he is finally a supernova with purpose.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean says, voice softening. The hunter’s shoulders relax, arms raised enough to welcome an embrace. Castiel knows that as soon as touches Dean, the longing, the need, the adoration will heighten as if Dean uttered a prayer.

All Castiel can manage in the face of such a moment is to stutter Dean’s name. His Righteous Man still stands. The angel pulls Dean further into his space, clings to the shoulders of Dean’s jacket. He smells like rotting leaves and leather and detergent and faintly of the woman’s perfume.  Castiel rests his forehead against Dean’s neck.

The angel can sense some of Dean’s stiffness, how he doesn’t hug back immediately. But after a second, Dean’s hands are on his shoulders, their warmth seeping through every layer of Castiel’s clothes to his very grace. Relaxing again, Dean leans his weight into Castiel’s.

“Okay, alright,” Dean mumbles just like he did in the cemetery. The hunter feigns discomfort, but Castiel feels the human’s heart skip a beat. Dean’s very soul pushes to touch Castiel’s grace, radiating relief. Without much thought, Castiel sighs Dean’s name again, letting the prayer of gratitude tickle Dean’s neck.

Without letting go, he just mumbles, “You’re alive.”

“I’m alive,” Dean whispers back, head turning so his can nuzzle Castiel’s hair.

I got my wish Castiel thinks even as he let’s Dean out of his embrace.

Everlark Advent: Day 23, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Part 2

This is a part two to Hark the Herald Angels Sing, though it isn’t necessary to have read the first for this to make sense.

Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Part 2 

rated T

“So spill it, why are you so giddy?” Prim’s balanced on a step ladder, and my every big-sister instinct tells me to kick the bottom of it. It’s not that big of a fall. She’d only bruise her pride. And maybe her ass. Instead, I take the more mature road and stick my tongue out at her. She just laughs. “Seriously, Kat. It’s a nice change from your usual screw the universe attitude.”

“I have plenty of screw the universe left, thank you very much.” I try to scowl, but I can’t. Because she’s right. I’m happy.

And it has everything to do with my new downstairs neighbour.

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Rivals in Love

So baseball is a big part of my life in the summer, and during one of the many games i went to, this idea was spawned. Obviously I’ve done nothing with said idea, but now that it’s literally three degrees outside, I’m going to bring you folks a lil bit of nice warm summertime, soma style. Also s/o to professor-maka for helping me with rivalries bc i know nada about west coast teams.

A story of unreasonable makas and unsweaty souls, where sometimes it takes the work of several thousand people and one rockin wingman to bring two people together. 

If asked about the origins of the old saying “sweating like a pig,” Maka Albarn would probably guess that it was first said by some poor bastard dying of heat in a stadium in Southern California.

A bit like how she was, actually.

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Drive (Bucky x Ofc)

Pairings: Bucky x ofc

Words: 1980

Summary: Bucky and Athena steal one of Tony’s vintage cars and go driving at 5:30 in the morning.


I advise you to listen to Halsey’s song called ‘Colours part 2′ before you read this, and also to play it when you see ‘Colours part 2′ in bold further down. It’s not vital to the story but imo it really added to the feels I was getting ok (p.s what a lil cutie my poOR HEART)

“Psst. Psst.”

Athena nudged Bucky gently. “I know you’re awake, Barnes.”

Despite the insufficiency of light, she noticed Bucky open his right eye. A small grin tugged at his lips. “How did you know I was awake?” He inquired with a soft voice.

“You have this action you do in your sleep,” She began, “Your left knee jerks every so often.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “How did you know that? I hope you’re not the kind of girlfriend that watches people sleep, because that’s creepy.”

Athena grinned, “Only on Tuesdays.”

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WestAllen Appreciation Week Day 7: Free choice

Barry being in awe of Iris’ beauty

storyinmyeyes requested a WestAllen fic based on “Never Seen Anything Quite Like You” by the Script, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. Hope you like this!

When they start junior high school, Iris takes to pressing and straightening her hair and wearing lots of floral dresses and putting on makeup. Beyond a disastrous first attempt at putting on eyeliner–in which she nearly poked her own eye out and then gave Barry raccoon eyes when she wanted to practice on someone else–she gets the hang of the whole makeup thing pretty quickly.

Barry doesn’t really understand the whole makeup thing all that well, but he thinks Iris looks pretty with it and he thinks she looks pretty without it and really Iris is just pretty in general. She could probably wear a trash bag and she’d still be the prettiest girl he knows.

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Best First Date

Happy [late] birthday to one of the sweetest, most kind hearted dears I know, thekingslover. I hope the day was wonderful for you, bb. <3

This fic takes place sometime after s8. Fluff, 1k.

So there’s a blanket in the trunk, and a bottle of wine in the backseat, a picnic basket settled between them in the front, and dusty purples and brilliant oranges smudging across the horizon in front of them. It feels a little cliche, but then it’s a fucking relieving kind of cliche - sans monster guts, or creatures that want to shred them to bits - so Dean feels settled, happy actually. 

“You won’t tell me where we’re going?” Castiel asks, averting his gaze from the passing scenery outside to glance at Dean as he guides the Impala down a long stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere.

“I told you,” Dean says, flashing Cas a smile, “we’re going on a date.”

The former angel frowns, and if Dean didn’t have the road to concentrate on, he’d kiss that spot just between Cas’ eyebrows that forms into a deep vee whenever Castiel is concentrating or acting like the world’s grumpiest bear. Later, he thinks.

“Listen,” Dean offers, “I feel like a crap boyfriend because we’ve been you know, whatever, for how long now and I’ve never actually taken you out on a real, honest to God, date. So I decided to change that. Can you just trust me?”

At this Castiel’s lips twitch, a prelude to a smile, and even though it’s been years, Dean’s chest still feels tight at the sight. “I trust you,” Castiel says. 

Dean smiles back. “Good.”

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Happy Easter from a Hootowl!

Happy Resurrection Sunday, everyone! I hope you enjoy this day of rebirth and life anew! Here to celebrate are some of Adam’s song lyrics of his songs of his faith:

“Living close to the ground
Is seventh heaven ‘cuz there are angels all around
Among my frivolous thoughts
I believe there are beautiful things seen by the astronauts

The indications reveal
That few of us realize life is quite surreal
So if you’re dying to see
I guarantee there are angels around your vicinity

So if you’re dying to see
I guarantee there are angels around your vicinity

Beautiful Times
“I fought all through the night
Oh oh but I made it alive
The sun’s starting to rise
Oh oh these are beautiful times
This fight of my life is so hard
So hard
So hard
But I’m gonna survive
Oh oh these are beautiful times”

“So I’m fanning the flames to climb so high
'Cuz there’s no other way we can stay alive

'Cuz we’re burning bright
As we all unite
And when it’s all said and done
We’ll shine like the sun
So don’t let the fire die

And we’ll watch the sky
As it fills with light
And though the embers are new
Whatever you do
Just don’t let the fire die

“Dear God I was terribly lost
When the galaxies crossed
And the sun went dark
But Dear God You’re the only North Star
I would follow this far

Oh telescope
Keep an eye on my Only Hope
Lest I blink
And get swept off the narrow road
You’ve got nothing to say to me
'Cuz you’re not the blinding light that I need
For He is the Saving Grace of the galaxies

Hospital Flowers
“The curtains decayed
The daylight poured in
I was never afraid
Of the Darkness again
My burns were third degree
But I’d been set free
'Cuz Grace had finally found its way
To me

How Deep the Father’s Love for Us (cover)
How deep the Father’s love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
And make a wretch his treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to Glory

Behold the man upon the Cross
My sin upon His shoulder
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

This I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

In Christ Alone (cover)
In Christ alone
My hope is found
He is my light my strength my song

This cornerstone
This solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

What heights of love
What depths of peace
When fears are stilled
When strivings cease

My comforter
My all-in-all
Here in the love of Christ I stand

There in the ground
His body lay
Light of the World by Darkness slain

Then bursting forth
In glorious day
Up from the grave He rose again

And as he stands
In victory
Sin’s curse has lost
Its grip on me

For I am His
And He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life
No fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me

From life’s first cry
To final breath
Jesus commands my destiny

No power of Hell
No scheme of man
Can ever pluck
Me from His hand

'Til He returns
Or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

'Til He returns
Or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

My Captain on a snowy horse
Is coming back to take me home
I’m finally fighting back the terrible force
'Cuz I’m not afraid to die alone

Meteor Shower
I can finally see
That You’re right there beside me

I am not my own
For I have been made new
Please don’t let me go
I desperately need You

I am not my own
For I have been made new
Please don’t let me go
I desperately need You

Tidal Wave
Lift your arms
Only Heaven knows
That if danger grows
Then it’s safe to say
There’s a Bright Light up ahead and help is on the way

I forget the last time I felt brave
I just recall insecurity
'Cuz it came down like a tidal wave
And sorrow swept over me

Then I was given Grace and Love
I was blind but now I can see
'Cuz I found a new Hope from Above
And courage swept over me

It hurts just to wake up
Whenever you’re wearing thin
Alone on the outside
So tired of looking in

The end is uncertain
And I’ve never been so afraid
But I don’t need a telescope
To see that there’s Hope
And that makes me feel brave

Happy Easter, and God bless.