beneathangelswings

Pairing: Basch/Ashe Follows FFXII Cannon An unknown soldier is escorted through the halls of a magnificent palace. The native guards are skeptical, but the king is sure after meeting this man -- he is the one for the job, yes, they will start him here. His lightness of spirit makes him a perfect companion for Dalmasca's treasure, the king thinks, and his loyalty to his newly adopted homeland makes him the perfect protector. "I warn you," the escorting knight says, "if any harm should befall her, we shall make your death look like an accident." The young soldier, barely twenty-two years of age, nods in understanding. He has taken this p

In denim. In denim I live. In denim I move from my house to my car. In denim I run from my car to my class. In denim I jump from one hug to the next. In denim I shuffle my Converse Friday feet under his gaze. In denim I tell my secrets to my friend. In denim I yell from one car to the next. In denim I watch my boy play his game of chicken to impress. In denim I scream my body caving with the cage. In denim I apologize for all the wrong I have done. In denim I speak my goodbyes and reach for his already lifeless hand. In denim I die.

Alleys There is a quiet sound that echoes in the distance  on these cold downtown streets It is the cry of all the teenagers who have wandered these passages  for so many years It bounces from building to building down the alleys and  into the park   where we sit Where we stand and where we dance. It is the place where we come to cry to talk  to explain   to apologize Its trees offer no protection from the eyes of adults of the parents who come this way  just to check   to be sure Our tears stay in this park in the places that they fall  like all those tears   cried by those who came before Our words

 Since I had been eleven, I had wanted to be Hermione Granger. Even when I had hit high school and had stopped being obsessed with Harry Potter, I still carried a part of me that wanted to be just like her. My hero, I had told myself every time I felt uncertain about whether or not I was smart enough or bold enough to handle something, is not a waif thin model or a popular girl who lacks brains. My hero is Hermione Granger, the bravest young woman in literature. She was so real to me that she was more of a friend than a dream. In classes, when the other students would look at me strangely when I asked intelligent questions or raised my ha

You always act like its okay.     Its not. You always tell me that it will be fine.     It won't always be. You keep saying that things will change.     Its hasn't changed yet. You tell me that you're different on the inside than on the outside.     Its not something I can see. You tell me that I have to believe you.     Its not something I can do. You tell me not to leave.     Its too late.     I'm all ready gone.