i took it after he passed away

2

for a sadness that comes a long way, his smile was inevitable.

For a long while ago we all sensed something’s odd with him, he barely smiled back then and had this faint happiness on his face all a long, yet today our precious sunshine took the courage to open up and remove that huge burden off his chest, telling us how he suffered silently after his grandma passed away on the 4th of September, crying brokenly for the sadness inside him. KIM TAEHYUNG, i’m so proud of you sweetheart for going through those hard times and managing to put a smile on our faces when you, yourself needed comfort and happiness more than anyone else. My heart aches so much to know about the hardships you went through, the pain you felt and never let out, i hope you never experience hard times again /knowing this is hard to have in life/ i hope nobody ever takes your happiness from you, i hope for more happy days to make there way through your life.

Thank you for being strong through your hard times, thank you for having the courage to let out all that burdens you, thank you for trusting us to reveal your weakness and vulnerabilities, thank you for asking us to keep your grandma in our memories cause you never ask that from anyone, lastly~~ thank you for being the one who you are, a true sunshine brightening up and spreading happiness and warmth. I love you, Kim taehyung, i really do. ❤️

5

amsjdnnccbfurjfhnfgitkkewkwj

Dude, this is something that’s been orbiting around my brain for, what, a week or so? a little AU where Seven still took upon the job as a secret agent, and opted for V (just him alone) to have Saeran under his care while he’s away, meaning Mint Eye never happened, and Saeran had the chance to live out his life as he should’ve…Years have passed, and by chance…the twins get taken by the ultimate surprise in their lives when they cross paths with each other.

amsjdncncnfhfh I am high-key hoping that if someone were to write a one-shot for this kind of scenario, or to maybe expand it as a Fanfic (Like what would happen sometime after their encounter) it’d be such a wonderful take seeing the twins being in good terms with each other and be happy! Or maybe even a comic?? Whatever works really!

I’d do it myself, but I’m not a Fanfic writer sadly…and having to make a comic for it is out of the question, because I just don’t have the time ;-; so…yeah, here’s hoping for someone who’s capable of doing it

On right, thought I’d take advantage for some of the art tools I haven’t had the chance try on my Sketches app, just to give this a softer texture…need some time to adjust to it, but it’s not bad lol

Jordan had leukaemia and brain cancer. These were the last texts I received from him before he passed away. Except it wasn’t the cancer that took him; he committed suicide so that his parents wouldn’t have to keep paying for his treatments etc. The last text that said “stay living” really hit home. He knew I was suicidal and didn’t want me to kill myself after him. I love him so much and miss him terribly.

October fic: Resilience

When Scully is fifty-one, her nose starts bleeding again.

It’s just the dry air, she tells Mulder, when he very nearly drops his wineglass when she tells him at dinner.

Five months later, the dry air comes to her through an oxygen mask after she passes out at work. When she wakes up, the only thing whiter than the hospital bedsheets is Mulder’s face, pale as a ghost, as he sits beside her and holds her hand, silent.

Yes, I took this chip out, years ago, her eyes convey. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I threw it off a bridge so they wouldn’t find us.

When she’s allowed home, they curl up on their bed. His mouth is on her ear when he whispers, “Let’s go away.”

“Where?”

“The seaside. Let’s rent a cottage for a few days, Scully.”

“Okay,” she agrees, because she’s too tired to argue.

A week later, he makes the reservations, rents a bigger car, and fills out the paperwork while she packs some clothes into a suitcase.

* * *

She has never loved him more. The seaside is beautiful. It is at once raging and calm, so still and yet it rocks her like a long-forgotten lullaby.

She love, love, loves it.

She remembers sitting on the beach with Ahab, leaning into his side with a towel wrapped around her little body as he read to her from Moby Dick. “Remember this one, Starbuck: I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.”

They eat fresh seafood at a restaurant by the pier, and it is so expensive but so delicious, and she eats her whole pate, for the first time in weeks.

He kisses her afterwards, as they’re walking home, and yes, Mulder, yes, today is a good day.

It is romantic. It is beautiful and free and she is so happy.

The cottage bed is soft and cool and he opens the wide balcony doors so they can make love under the stars.

She falls asleep listening to the waves rocking against the shore and with the gentle salty breeze whispering through the open window and she is at peace.

* * *

Her throat burns as she heaves her stomach contents into the toilet. There’s black pins in her vision and a ringing in her ears.

Thank you, she breathes, eyes pressed tightly closed, reveling in the momentary relief that mercifully comes with finally vomiting. God, thank you.

She’s been waiting all day to throw up, the side effects of this morning’s chemo getting steadily worse until she considered gagging herself just to get it over with.

For a heavenly ten seconds, her stomach ache is gone. Her headache recedes to a dull pain behind her eyes, and she sags backwards against the door of her shower stall, digging her toes into the plush softness of her bathmat. Thank you.

The glass wall is blessedly cool against the side of her cheek.

Now is the time to recuperate, to catch her breath, to be comfortable enough to cry if she wants to. (She won’t.) Now is the time to sit quietly and enjoy the absence of the spinning pinwheel whirling in her head every time she closes her eyes.

With blind fingers, she reaches over and tries to find the flusher, but knocks the toilet paper stand over instead.

“Scully?” he calls from downstairs, voice echoing up the hallway and into the bathroom.

She can’t take in a deep enough breath to muster any response.

She can hear him, climbing the stairs slowly, his slippers tapping gently against the oak floorboards.

“Aw, Scully,” he whispers, coming to crouch in front of her. His hand reaches out and folds itself over her forehead. She closes her eyes and just breathes, leaning the heavy weight of her head into his palm.

It is not romantic. It is ugly and horrid and she is completely, utterly exhausted.

He reaches over above their heads, grabs a glass, and fills a quarter of the way with tap water.

“Here,” he murmurs, crouching in front of her and with a gentle palm to the back of her skull, tips her head forwards so she can sip at the glass of water he’s brought.

He tucks her sweaty hair behind her ears. “There we go,” he whispers. “You’re alright,” he soothes, sliding down the shower door to sit beside her. She wants to reach out and touch him, but her arms are folded tightly around her ribs and for now the ache in her belly is bearable – if she moves, if she even opens her eyes, that relief could be ruined and she will not, in this moment, risk it.

He moves softly against her side and then she hears the water swishing as he flushes the toilet.

“Sorry,” she breathes.

“Don’t be.”

“It’s gross,” she insists, swallowing harshly.

“No,” he answers, tucking her bathrobe more tightly against her chin.

She opens her eyes and turns her head, heavy gaze meeting his. He reaches out and strokes his finger down her cheek, eyes glued to her face.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mulder,” she whispers.

“Like wh-,” he starts, but his throat tightens and steals his voice, cutting off his words like a stone shoved in his windpipe. He swallows harshly, ducks his head down and threads his fingers through his hair.

He stares at the floor. She closes her eyes and stares at the inside of her eyelids.

She reaches out and gently pulls his hand into her lap.

“Be here with me,” she reminds him. Don’t think about it. Just be here. With me.

The gentle hiss of the toilet ceases as the tank finally stops filling, and then there is only the sound of the kitchen clock ticking its steady rhythm in quiet staccato beats.

Time. She only wishes there was more of it.

* * *

Two months later, he comes into the bedroom in the middle of the afternoon, holding an envelope.

“Mulder, what –,” she gingerly lifts her head from the pillow.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I found it on the porch. Someone left it. It’s addressed to you.”

“Open it,” she whispers, and licks her dry lips.

He does. The paper tears easily under his fingers.

His face turns blank with shock, and he is still for so long.

“Mulder,” she murmurs.

He looks up at her and his face melts into a brilliant smile.

He holds up a tiny glass vial.

Inside, a microscopic metal chip.

2

‘’When we started writing this record [Monster], on September, in New Orleans, I wrote lyrics for two songs, ‘I took your name’ and ‘You’. A month after that, River Phoenix died. He was a good friend of mine, he was like my brother. And his death impacted me profoundly, made me unable to write music, unable to write lyrics for five months.’’ 

- Michael Stipe (REM) about River in a 1994 interview. Those pictures were taken by Michael a year before, in 1993, in Alabama Gas stop, 8 months before River passed away. 

The album Michael mentioned was dedicated to River’s memory.

This was the last messages between my guy best friend and me on Facebook. After that, he barely used Facebook anymore because of how sick he was and how worse his cancer was progressing. I was there for him through it all, for about 4 years. I even took him to my senior prom. I saw him at his worst, I’ve slept over his house, the hospital, and hospice. He was a true genuine friend, a very smart boy, and he had so much to offer the world. He passed away March of 2016. I am at his house with his mom and brother right now as I’m typing this. I will always love him and always be there for his family. I miss him so terribly it makes my heart hurt just to think about him not being here with us.

I never wanted to fall in love.

not after seeing my parents kisses, hugs and “I love you"s turn into fists, yelling and “I hate you"s. After their break up my mother didn’t eat for almost 2 weeks, and I had to take care of my sister during all this time because taking care of someone else when you’re not even able to take care of yourself is pretty hard.

I never wanted to fall in love.

not after seeing pictures of a boy in my sister’s bedroom, he was pretty, he was her boyfriend. As the days passed, the amount of pictures of him on her wall kept growing up until the day I came in and realized she took them all away. She didn’t forget one, I found them weeks later in our fireplace, half burned.

I never wanted to fall in love.

not after seeing my best friend’s boyfriend telling her he’d always be there for her but it ended up with him going away, yelling "I never want to see you again” and I remember having to sleep beside her every nights during a month because staying alone stressed her out.

but then I saw that girl and she smiled back at me and the way her eyes sparkled when I looked into them made me think that maybe love wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.

I never wanted to fall in love but then she told me she loved me and I thought that maybe love deserved a second chance.

I never wanted to fall in love, but I’m glad I did.

—  you made me believe in love, and I can’t thank you enough for this.
Fic: Unbroken (5/?) (M)

Author’s note: It’s here! Thank you all for bearing with me. I hope you enjoy it!

Also posted: FF.net / AO3

Chapter 5

Wednesday was a travel day. Liam took a Navy plane to HMNB Clyde, landing just after lunch. He considered pressing on and doing his inspection right away, but darkness came even earlier in Scotland at this time of year. He’d hardly get started before night made it futile to continue. It was frustrating because it was one more day away from his family. With each passing hour, he missed them more. He wanted to make up for his behavior before his trip, but he couldn’t hundreds of miles away.

After settling in his temporary quarters, he got a late lunch at the officers’ mess. No one bothered him, not that there were many people around. He tried to read, book propped open on the juice jug. It passed the time, but the words felt meaningless. He just couldn’t seem to derive the pleasure from his duty that he used to. It was a jarring revelation, to be sure. He was so used to taking care of others, he lost himself. He had no idea who Liam was and it scared him. The only time he felt centered was with Emma and Killian. When had that happened?

Keep reading

Matthew's Legacy

It took me awhile to post this, mostly because of how much this story reminds me of my best friend Joseph. :’(

Link to the story: http://www.latimes.com/local/california/la-me-1128-random-tragedy-20151128-story.html

A man named Matthew did something nice for someone. This wasn’t just a one time thing for him. This was something he’s always done.

A single mom was at the grocery store with her child. She couldn’t pay for her groceries. A generous man took care of the bill and only asked that she pay it forward later on.

The person he helped was grateful for his generosity. She wanted to thank him for his good deeds, but unfortunately, he passed away 2 days later.

She was so touched by what he did, she decided to continue his legacy of good deeds, calling it Matthew’s Legacy.
She wanted to continue showing the kindness he gave to others. She wanted him to be remembered.

I cried so much after reading this story. This is so similar to my life.

My best friend Joseph was just like Matthew. Always kind, always helpful. A wonderful and inspiring person. Especially to me.

He would always help people out. He would drive people around, use his knowledge of auto repair to fix peoples cars, always helping out and volunteering.

He was the kindest and gentlest soul in the world. But like Matthew….his life was tragical cut short. :’(

He lost his life to a drunk driving accident. He was taken suddenly and violently from this world, just like Matthew.

My heart was crushed when this happen. I cried so much. I lost my only best friend. Why did this have to happen? :’(

Why did this wonderful and caring person have to be taken? Why did fate decide it was his time???

What did he do to deserve this?? I still don’t have an answer for this.

Why did Matthew have to suffer the same fate? Why do the good have to die young?

They are the ones this world needs most. They make life better for everyone….

Perhaps there will never be an answer.


But while they are no longer here, the good works they’ve done will not stop.

All the goodwill they have done, will continue. We, the ones inspired by them, will pick up where they left off. We will continue to give to others in their name. We shall continue the kindness and generosity they have shown us.

In their names, we will continue on. It is our honor to keep their memories alive.

This will be our mission in life. To ensure these wonderful people are never forgotten. To keep them alive in our hearts. :)

I am inspired to see that other people are paying it forward, just like I do with Joseph’s memory.

This is Matthew’s legacy. This is Joseph’s legacy. And maybe, if I fortunate enough, my legacy.

It is times like these that I thankful to be alive.
I may be sad that my best friend is gone, but I am joyful to know that there are others like me, like him, who open our hearts to others.

I know the future is difficult. I know life can be trying. But if we care for and support one another, we can make this world a better place.
Not just for those here, but those who have passed on as well.

I am so thankful to have had Joseph’s presence in my life. No matter how short it was.

He showed me how wonderful it is to care for my fellow man. He showed me how selfless one can be living for others.

Thank you Joseph. Thank you for everything. :)

I still miss you very much. :’( Every single day I am missing you.

Just thinking of the day you went away, the bond between us that was broken. I cry so much just thinking about it. :,(

But my memory of you is not all sadness.

I am proud to be given the chance to call you my friend. You changed my life so much. I am proud to call you my brother.

You will always be with me in my heart.

You will always be my brother, in this world and the next.

This I swear to you.

With my time on this earth, I will continue to live the life you shown me is possible.

And when my time is done. I will see you on the other side.

Thank you again guiding me straight and true, and through the many obstacles in my path, and for keeping me resolute when things seemed lost.

Thank you for showing me that others like you are still in this world.

Thank you Joseph.

Thank you Matthew.

I hope I can make both of you proud of me.

Joseph brought out my good side.

And Matthew continues to inspire me to keep moving forward.

I know that whatever good I will do in this world, it will be because of you two.

This is my life.

For Joseph.

For Matthew.

For myself.

For others.

“In that book which is my memory, on the first page of the chapter that is the day that I first met you, appear the words…‘Here begins a new life’ ”

-La Vita Nuova

Blow that whistle.

Not my revenge but I watch everything unfold.

I work at a lumber yard right next to the train tacks, they are literally about ten feet away from our walls. As you can imagine it can get pretty loud when the train passes by however, I have learned to tune it out after working there for a while.  One of my co-works has not despite working there far longer than I have.   One day he got feed up and flipped off the train as it passed and yelled obsenities at it. He took to doing this every time it passed by for about a week.  Somehow one of the conductors noticed this.

Now you can tell if its that conductor because they will blow the whistle the entire time it passes by our yard and even as it goes way off into the distance down the tracks.  Needless to say my coworker is not amused but it just makes the rest of us laugh.

The Crumbling Kingdom Ch. 5

I got sudden inspiration in the middle of the night so that took away from my sleep.

Genre: Mafia!Jeonghan, Mafia!Soonyoung, Angst, Romance, This Chapter Has Fluff, Violence

Word Count: 5,381

CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6

Originally posted by kkimgyu

“’This isn’t just something you can fix with an apology,’ he shouted, ‘why can’t you grasp that?’”

There’s a new fro-yo place downtown, can we go after class tomorrow? 

It’s a date 

You smiled as you sent your reply to Soonyoung. Four years had passed since you had last spoke with Jeonghan. You had graduated and started attending Pledis University with your friend and comrade Soonyoung. You had grown as a person, the bullet mark was a faded scar, and you managed to move on from Jeonghan. Even in college, you managed to continue working in The Gwijog, your father even began paying you. You became famous among your fellow members for your swift and silent murders. Even though you told yourself Jeonghan wasn’t an important part of your life, you couldn’t bring yourself to kill the way you had before. You couldn’t make fun out of it without feeling horrible after. As a result, you did kills as painlessly and silently as possible. You were often on stealth and sniping missions, but you still did interrogations. You were cold, intimidating and effective. Outside of your crime life, you were quite the opposite. You were dedicated to your studies, friends, and activities. People often found you volunteering for the newest cause in town. You were a kind person that no outsider would peg as a skilled assassin.

Keep reading

I originally wrote this two months ago, the day after I found out a good friend of mine passed away. It took me this long to decide to post it. He was one of those rare genuine and real people who wanted to hear the truth about how you’re doing and wasn’t just asking you for the sake of it. This poem was inspired by one of our conversations but it is also dedicated to him.

Y/n’s Laptop

Summary: Dean finds Y/n’s laptop after months of her passing.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 889

Warning: Angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was months after Y/n had passed. Fatally clawed out from saving the boys from a werewolf in Kentucky. Months had passed. Dean was still a mess.

All he wanted to do was hunt. Take his anger out on the very things that took her away from him too soon. Before he could tell her anything about how he felt. I guess you don’t realize what you’ve lost until you’ve lost it.

He missed her. He missed her smile, her eyes, her bad jokes she thought was hilarious. Even the 80’s music she loved to sing every morning. He missed how whenever he would start drinking like how he is now, she would attempt to hide every bottle of liquor in the house from him. He was drowning himself in self-loath and liquor. He should’ve been the one on the ground that night in Kentucky. He was the one that wasn’t focusing. He should’ve been alert and because of that he had paid the ultimate price. Losing another one of his beloved friends.

Friend. Yeah.

She was so much more. She was the light in both of their lives. Sam felt like crap too, but he tried to keep going. It was harder when his brother blamed everything on himself. So Sam tried a different approach. All of them did really. At first, Sam thought Dean couldn’t handle her most valuable thing because he would spend day and night on it, making it more painful for all of them. Bobby thought it could be a good way to help him cope, so Sam entered Dean’s mess of a room and tried it.

“Dean. Dean..” Sam shook his older brother awake as he noticed him asleep on his desk. Empty bottles of whiskey covered the entire desk and some nearly fell as he awoke.

“What?” Dean asked, slightly annoyed. He was drowsy and sleep deprived, who could blame him?

“Promise me you’ll stop drinking,” Sam tells him, “You know damn well Y/n hated it when you did this.”

Dean looked halfway up at Sam annoyed and that he was crazy. “Sammy..” Dean droned.

“No, Dean, promise me right now. I only going to give this to you if you promise me.” Sam says sternly, holding the thing behind his back tighter.

“Give me what, Sam?” Dean asks and reaches to whatever was behind his back. Sam moves so it’s out of reach.

“Dean..” Sam starts. “I’m not going to agree to anything unless I know what I’m doing this for.” Dean interrupts.

Sam sighs before sliding In laptop out from behind his lap. Dean sits straight up fast, hangover or not. That laptop contained all of Y/n’s music, her photos and videos, and all of her favorite things.

Dean makes a grab for it, but Sam’s too fast. “Sam..”He growls,”I’ve been looking for that.”

Yeah, Sam knew that. He noticed that even though Y/n’s room wasn’t completely trashed like Dean’s room was, he could tell Dean looked for something in there, though Sam had taken the computer before Dean even thought about it.

“Promise me.” Sam says sternly. He knows Dean would do anything for this damn computer.

“I promise, now, hand it over.” Dean says neglectfully and Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Fine, I swear, Sam.” Dean says tirelessly.

“Tell that to Y/n.” Sam pushes. Dean looks up intensely. He knew he was going fake his way outta this one, but with Y/n involved, he really questioned if he could do that.

He looked at Sam testingly. “Say it.” Sam demands.

“I’ll stop drinking for Y/n. There, you happy?” Dean growls as he hands over the laptop. He immediately opens the laptop and types in the password he knew all so well.

Her screensaver, a picture of me and her that Sam took about a month before she died. We were in Nevada, and the hotel we stayed at only had one more room and it only had two beds. Of course, I volunteered to be her bed buddy for the week we stayed. The picture was of me and her sleeping and somehow through the night I managed to sneak my arm around her pull her under my chin. This was Sam’s picture proof of how we were going to get together and start dating.

The first thing I click on is her music. I missed her playlists. In reality, I just missed her voice. Her voicemail still rang in my ears. But I can always remember the way she sang her songs. I notice her 80’s playlist and click through all of the songs, too excited to slow down to just one. Then I notice one thing that almost made me break down again. Under all of her playlists, there was one named, ‘Dean’s Songs’. It was filled with all of my cassette songs, my bad karaoke songs and even the ones I had just sung in the car. I knew she didn’t listen to classic rock. She was a R&B type of girl with the slight alternative. But the fact that she listened to my songs in thought of me made me cry harder.

Scratch what I had said before. I didn’t miss her songs or her bad jokes or any of that.

I just missed her.

Tiny King and I

The young female had come to the King’s court in place of her father who had been mentioned in the letter. Sadly it seemed he had not known of her parents passing and that she had taken over the healing shop. “Halt…” Jumping at the loud voice, as she gazed up to met a guard. “Excuse me…I was summoned to meet with the King.” After a moment the guard looked up from the letter with a scowl. “Says here a man’s name.” Looking away as she gently took the letter, holding it close. “M-my…my father passed away a year ago, so I’ve come instead since his shop is in my care right now.”

The guard let her pass after a moment, telling her how to locate the court to which she’d find the King. Getting lost a few times, she managed to find it and stepped inside quietly. “Your…your Highness?”

@pabakura

#4 ➸ Luhan

“I think I’m pregnant”

Luhan was away when you found out. Two or three days after he and Lao Gao took a train to Hong Kong, the morning sickness began. At first you foisted it to the three orders of chicken you and Luhan devoured passed midnight, the night before he left. However a week of constant ailment got you thinking.
First of all, there was something too strange in the fact that for the first time in your life, you’d eaten as much as Luhan; and secondly, stomach indigestion normally didn’t last more than three days. There was something wrong with you but… what?


It hit you while you were driving to McDonald’s. The last time you’d been there was over a month ago, when the only thing that was able to calm your cramps was a chocolate milkshake. That made you realize that you hadn’t had your period for more than a month ago…and that entailed to the constant morning sickness in the past two weeks, which entailed to… Holy cow.


Sweat began to moisten the palms of your hands, your eyes wide and hectic breathing as the thought of being pregnant crossed your mind. You remember it perfectly. How you began to feel that everything around you twirled, that maybe you were still too young, that Luhan had it all planned: he was going to get married at 27/28 years old and then he’d have children. He was 25, for god’s sake! He was super busy within his loads of projects, climbing a summit to success amid his new album, movies, variety shows which he has yet to attend. Hence, you were terrified of his reaction. For sure, Luhan was not the kind of man who would wash his hands and leave you alone with the baby. Fuck no. He was going to be by your side, support you, but you weren’t sure whether he’d be happy with the news or not. 


And you still think the same.


It’s been about three weeks since you went to the doctor and he confirmed your condition. September 24, the night when he’d arrive from Hong Kong. Tomorrow is his first showcase so it’s a guarantee he’d be beyond thrilled. You don’t want the announcement to embitter his mood, but neither think is convenient to lengthen it. If you don’t say it tonight, your anxiety will grow and grow and make even more difficult to spill the news. So you fix yourself a cup of tea, take a bubble bath and wait ⎯hidden under the sheets with the radiance of the bedside lamp as the only light in the flat.


After 2 am or something you hear the door crack open followed by the crunch of footsteps on the wood, the dry sound of a backpack dropping on the floor and finally, the heavy breathing of your boyfriend as he enters the bedroom. Luhan leers a tired smile before he jumps onto the mattress; face down, freeing the air from his lungs.


You’re motionless, beholding his back with terrified eyes. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you sense his hand on your belly, draining a gasp amongst your lips. Lazily Luhan slides over the mattress and rests his head on your shoulder, his nose brushing against your neck. He sighs. He has missed your smell.


“I missed you babe”


“Missed you too”. 


Your voice betrayed you. Luhan knew you so well that once you uttered the last two words in a whisper, he cringes his eyes, tilting his head as if he’s going to inspect you with his gaze, "What’s wrong?”


Ensuing a swallow, you clear your throat, close your eyes and count to ten. You did everything you read on the Internet under the link ‘how to calm my fears’ and ‘how to gain courage to say something important’ but none of the supposed remedies help you to ease your outrageous heart. The words are stuck in your throat, glassy eyes and dry lips. Fuck. How are you supposed to say this?


“I…” you bash. “I-I”


Luhan’s haggard eyes look at you in compassion, his left hand cupping your cheek, “You know you can tell me whatever you think y/n. You can trust me”

Again, you close your eyes and breathe deeply. 


“I-I think I’m pregnant”


That’s it. You did it.


“You think?”


When you gather the courage to move your gaze from the sheets, you find Luhan’s eyes looking at you. He is so close that you can feel his breath against your chin, his trembling fingers still on your chin.


“I’m pregnant”


There is a silence.
A long silence.


“Thank you,” he finally says, a shy smile playing on his lips. If his eyes were usually sparkly, now they are two damn stars.  “This is the best gift someone has given to me”.

Yatogami Kuroh - Gods of the night sword.

“Yatogami” is based from “Yato no kami” (夜刀の神), a snake water deity which is said to bring familial extermination to those who laid their eyes on them. They were eventually expelled by a man clearing the fields and were enshrined at at a yashiro (Shinto shrine) which they were worshiped.

In Kuroh’s history, his parents and siblings died in a car accident with him, and the aunt and uncle who took him in after died in a fire accident in the house. He was abandoned shortly afterwards and left for dead until Ichigen picked him up. After he passed away, he met Isana Yashiro.


I also found it fascinating that Silver King has a moon/sky metaphor, and his name kanji is the night sword.

“My cat died about a week before Brook did. Her name was Naja. She used to always nuzzle in between Brook and I, so we would laugh about how she was jealous and trying to come between us. Whenever we’d see a stray cat on the street, Brook would say that Naja had sent a spy to keep an eye on us. I didn’t see a stray cat for a whole week after Naja died. When I finally saw one, I took this photo and sent it to Brook. He texted back that Naja had sent the cat to keep an eye on me. I got a call that night at 1:07 AM. Brook had a heart attack. He passed away before I got to the hospital. I like to imagine Brook and Naja nuzzling together in heaven. It’s one of the things that’s helped me get through these last few months.” (2/2)

I thought I would despise you.
But I don’t, I can’t.
I hate her.
She snatched you away like a thief in the night.
But instead she did it in the light, with the sky shining bright, right in front of my eyes.
She stole you away when my skin was branded with your name.
When the word God ceased to exist,
Instead you were the prayer upon my lips.

She took you away as if we were just a fling,
A thing to pass the time,
But I swore you were mine.

I hope she falls for you,
That with each day her heart fills with an insatiable desire,
Then one day, when she no longer fears your departure,
He will walk away with another girl, that wears your face,

I look back at the words inscribed upon my wall.
I sigh
After all, you cannot steal that which desires to remain.

— 

M.C.E, A thief in the night

Collab with @saniamushtaq123 :3