Hello everyone this is my first story (the other one isn't finished) These are just cute photos of my baby Tokoyami ❤️❤️❤️ Enjoy 😉

"We are the dead, short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields In Flanders fields And now we lie In Flanders fields Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch, be yours to hold it high If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields In Flanders fields We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields In Flanders fields. " Following the moments after his unfortunate demise, Fumikage Tokoyami-- also known as Tsukuyomi, learns that what is there does not only exist from what we can see. But to those who are behind and invisible to us. *Excerpt from "In Flanders Fields" by John Mcrae*

In silence he suffers with nothing but himself. Alone he is distant. Only one breaks down when it gets too much. Like the ebbs and waves of the great seas they constantly crash onto the sharp black rocks at the bottom or under a cliff, just like him-- from youth to old to youth, and then nothing but a timeless being. Like the rose petals, like the moon, like the darkness, like the night: he is said to be so lonesome but also never, sharp but gentle with delicate hands, like the moon he shines lowly and dimly from both highs and lows. Like the darkness, there was once light that shone from it. ____________________________________________________ The other only watches silently and seethes in hatred and envy. The second other only watches with unmoving interest, a silenced racing heart lays in a deep, deep cave under the sea-- like a static clock, with a silent Racing Heart in a deep sea cave. ____________________________________________________ Depressive Realism, they say, but he who lost himself will only wander in their shadow, or be lost at black waters in the middle of the ocean-- he was wise, but never wise about himself, his shadow would banter endlessly in his mind and the shadows under him would coil and0 flit. He brings darkness with his very presence, and drag the veil of midnight from his empty-crowned head, while silence will only be the one to accompany him in his stead. . . . Or so he thought. ____________________________________________________

short stories of our favourite bird-headed boy created by the requests commented by you more information in the intro about the rules