dead leaves will always be my fave bts song. just the amount of lines jin has???? like he even has the first verse??? & yoongis husky rapping and the fact he produced that song himself?? & how easily jungkooks and jimins voices flow into one another and their smooth harmonies &namjoons gasp and “woohoo” and how u can visually see him rap his part & how tae’s low vocals fit so well in this song….and i cant forget abt hobs iconic rap verse and how its the perfect transition to the climax of the song where the beats all escalate perfectly with vocal lines high notes and then the music fades and all u can hear is the piano and just tae whispering never never fall and then it ends and u feel almost empty but like mellow at the same time????? god i love dead leaves
what she means:
i am so proud of tsukishima kei. he's come so far. not only did he actually compliment kageyama, which he would have never done back in the first season, but he actually managed to stop ushijima's spike. more than that, he planned on at least stopping a few of them before the match even started, which means he believed enough in himself to think he could actually manage to block on of the top spikers in japan. tsukishima. believed. in himself. i'm literally crying about this? tsukishima's character development is so good. it's good and pure and
(Woooo more prompts! Woooo NEGAN 😏Hope it is as requested and you all like it :3 Pic not mine/found it on google/credit to the original owners.)
-Him smirking devilishly when you ask if he would want a bath with you, as he has all kinds of dirty things in mind
-Him following your lead and letting you undressing him, only to be frisky and grope you here and there, making you laugh
-Him not being able to hide his surprise when he sees the bathtub being filled with bubbles, and asking you if you’re being serious about this, only to end up smirking as he realizes he can truly take a break from everything
-Him getting in the tub before you and just laying and stretching out completely until he sits comfortably, making you laugh and get excited when he reaches over to hold your hand
-Him pulling you into the tub with him, making you sit your back to his chest, only to start teasing you for being so childish to put bubbles in a bath
-Him teasing you with kisses and inappropriate groping to your chest and ass, only for you to struggle and splash him
-Him laughing to see you struggle and feeling the water and bubbles all over, only to be mean and get back at you by splashing over but with a much stronger force
-Him panicking whenever you’d choke on the water and quickly grabbing you to check if you’re alright, only to end up having you sit opposite to him while he massages your legs
-Him resolving the issue by pulling you closer and washing you off clean and get romantic out of nowhere the instant he kisses your neck, making it lead to a sweet moment between you both
-Him keeping his eyes on you as you’d dry off and inching closer to whisper in your ear that in the end you shouldn’t have taken a bath as he plans to dirty you up all over again
Dean downs what’s left of his third beer and sets the bottle on the table, sighing heavily. Sam is already in his room – said something about wanting to read, or watch something, or whatever, and Dean pretends he doesn’t know that Sam was just trying to give him and Cas some privacy.
Dean looks at Cas, but if Cas is aware of someone’s eyes on him, he doesn’t show it. He’s nursing what has to be his seventh beer, and he’s nowhere near even slightly tipsy, which Dean supposes figures, angelic tolerance or whatever. Cas’ gaze is unfocused, and he hasn’t said anything in over half an hour, now. Dean wonders what’s going on in his mind, even though he figures it makes sense that Cas would be… lost in thought? Possibly upset? It’s been a long day.
Ten minutes come and go, and when Cas’ silence hits the forty-five-minute mark, Dean knows he can’t take it anymore.
“Alright,” he says, leaning forward and trying to catch Cas’ gaze. “Tell me.”
Palette walked irritatedly down the path back home. It had been a hard day of taking care of people on his ‘hit list’, and he couldn’t wait to get back home to Goth. He’d make that younger skeleton limp so bad tomorrow…
In the middle of his thoughts, he opened the door to the house.
“Gooooothy~” Palette purred, “I’m home… You know what that means~~” He walked into the kitchen. Goth wasn’t there like he usually was.
Palette’s eyes narrowed as he growled more aggressively, “Oh my little doll, where are you…”
He walked around the island in the kitchen to find Goth knelt on the ground softly gagging and coughing up blood. The younger skeleton had a sharp knife to his own throat.
Palette’s eyes widened in dismay. Goth only slowly looked up with a smile.
A smile that clearly told Palette, ‘You won.’ And with that, Goth’s hand trembling, he began to slowly slice his own throat–
But Palette was quicker. He dived into a kneeling position and yanked Goth’s wrist to the side, taking the knife and chucking it out the open window. He took a hold of both of Goth’s wrists with one hand, while his other held Goth’s throat.
This time, Palette wasn’t holding Goth by the throat in attempt to choke him. He was doing it to save Goth. And neither skeleton knew why.
Goth’s eyes were filled with confusion (and not to mention tears) as he met Palette’s. The smaller skeleton choked out only a single word. “…W-Why…?” And then Goth passed out in Palette’s arms, soul beating faster than a humming bird’s wings. He was soaked in his own blood and tears…literally.
Palette hesitated but stood up, letting go of Goth. The bigger skeleton had no interest in taking Goth to his room, but he did get a large bandage and gauze to cease the bleeding in Goth’s throat. After he was finished treating the small wound, Palette began walking back to his room.
…He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Goth was in a decently comfortable position, then he walked out.
Goth woke up with a damp face and a bloodstained mouth. He groaned as he sat up slowly and winced as his throat was strained with the effort. His eyes were wide as he realized that he wasn’t dead.
Tears came almost immediately all over again. Ignoring the pain in his neck, Goth screamed in pure agony over his failed suicide attempt and he stood up to punch the cabinet door.
“No!!” He sobbed loudly, “No, no no no no!!! No….!!” Goth sank to the floor, whimpering and trembling violently. He felt a shadow darken his vision through his eyelids. The smaller skeleton immediately froze. He let out a long whine of terror.
“I’m…..sorry….” Is all Goth could manage to get out before rage and fear battled each other in his mind, making him shriek in a shaking voice, “I give up!!!” To the figure in front of him, “Just rape me already!! Kill me! SOMETHING!! Stop torturing me by making me wait…just get it over with… I just…want to die…” Goth’s voice faded into a sob as he lowered his head in defeat to Palette, “I… Give… UP… You win… Please… N-no more…”
Palette looked angry, but anger and guilt were fiercely battling each other in his mind. At the moment, guilt was winning. Palette’s eyes softened somewhat and he knelt in front of Goth, raising his head by the chin with a hand.
Goth’s expression was laden with horror as Palette’s hand made contact with Goth’s chin. He flinched and trembled, preparing for the worst.
But Goth’s gradual flinching was all for nothing as Palette leaned in and gave Goth a kiss. This was different than the kisses that Goth had received in the past. This was a soft kiss. Not aggressive and lust-hungry.
Goth was thoroughly shocked. He trembled even more in confusion but kissed back nonetheless. Even if Palette meant this kiss to actually be a kind advance toward Goth, the younger skeleton still didn’t want to risk angering him by not returning the kiss.
By the time they pulled away, Goth felt nothing. His eyes–his whole expression – was blank. Goth felt nothing for Palette. NOTHING. There was definitely hatred there. But nothing else.
“I love you, Goth…” Palette said gruffly but slowly, as if he was honestly trying to be more convincing than he usually is, “…I don’t want to lose you.”
Goth just stared at Palette. “No you don’t,” Goth replied simply. Palette looked up in slight surprise.
“You can’t take me from my own family, come here of all places to live, treat me like yesterday’s newspaper, rape me, abuse me, then wait until I’m trying to escape my miserable, wasted life to decide that you love me. That’s just not possible. Or, at the very least, you can’t expect me to love you back…” Goth’s voice shook in anger as he confronted Palette of all his faults.
Palette let his hand fall as Goth stood up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Palette tried to sound like his intimidating self through his shock, “You aren’t allowed to leave. I’m dominant over you.” Palette stood as well, grabbing Goth by the arm.
Goth flinched again and turned to Palette. He nodded slowly and meekly, and just as Palette felt satisfaction bubble up inside him…
Palette stumbled backwards in utter shock. Goth was standing with his hand raised. He had smacked Palette so hard it sent the older skeleton to the ground.
“…You are not dominant over me…” Goth’s voice was shaking, “I am my own person.” Palette was staring up at Goth in alarm, his intimidating aura gone. He looked…guilty?
But Goth didn’t let it get to him. He glared down at Palette and kicked him in the ribs. “I’m leaving you for good this time! I don’t give half a shit about how you feel! You never gave anything about how I did!”
And with that, Goth ran outside the front door, leaving Palette groaning mess on the floor.
Goth ran as fast as he could down the alley next to his and Palette’s house. By now he could only pray that Palette or one of his buddies wouldn’t come after him.
Nearly tripping on a rock, Goth squealed a bit in alarm and jumped as to keep himself from falling. That would only slow him down. He broke through a thin wall of bushes and into someone’s backyard. He raced through it and made it to the edge of town in no time.
Palette’s home was close to the edge of town, though, so Goth still had to be careful about being seen. He couldn’t be too loud, either, or else Palette might be able to hear him. Just as he was about to cross into the next town…
Goth collapsed to the ground. In a haze of alarm, he looked behind himself.
One of Palette’s comrades were standing right there with a bat in his hand. Goth’s eyes widened in horror. He’d been caught again! What was going to happen to him now?!
Goth let out a loud scream as his attacker harshly picked him up and started carrying him away.
“Let me go!! You dirty rotten miserable sick son of a bitch!!” Goth’s words were laced thickly in fear as tears streamed down his face.
“Y'know, doll…” The attacker growled, “You’ve been escaping one too many times lately. I think I’ll punish you for that MYSELF.”
…If Goth hadn’t been completely horrified of how his life would end before, he definitely was now. He forced himself to let out another loud cry.
Palette’s head raised as he walked out the front door of his home, hearing several loud sobs from the edge of town. ‘What…? But that sounds like…’ Palette thought silently, making his way down the alley at a speed walk. What had gotten Goth? Or was it Goth at all, he wondered silently?
For the inheritance ask! 7. “you died and left me a small country” Kisame and Zabuza and Kirigakure.
This took longer than planned, but it was so much fun and honestly, I could have just gone writing this forever but I needed to cut myself off. :D
In matters of inheritance in the land of Kirigkure, they were old and small enough to cultivate their practices leftover from the old days when they had to fight tooth and nail to protect what was once only a small fishing inlet. Their monarchy equivalent is selected from the previous ruler and approved by a majority vote from the three departments.
Sakura’s fist made a cracking sound as it tore the sandbag off the hook again and sent it rolling across the gym floor.
“I know how their government works, I’m not stupid,” Sakura muttered, walking over to retrieve the bag and inspect it for cracks. “Tsunade would have fried me alive if I didn’t know that much after the first year. She was close with Mei, one of the three seats.”
“The other two seats belong to Yagura and the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, a group. Funny story, Mei voted for you, Yagura voted against you, and the swordsmen were split so they voted ‘present’ but did not take a side. In this situation the tie breaker depends on the language of the will and the language of the will picked you.”
Sakura dragged the punching bag back over and reached up to hook it to the dangling chain. “Yeah,” she grunted. “I still don’t see how that is supposed to explain how I got tangled up in this. I’ve messed around in Kiri only a few times and I know my old folks are originally from there, but I’m like an outsider, aren’t I?”
Her hair was damp from the sweat and she could feel where it stuck to her as she paused to watch her old teacher flip through the pages of his paperback.
“Legally, no. Culturally, yes.” He looked up from his book and met her eyes. “Regardless, you’ve been requested to go to the country and fulfill the terms of the last will and testament by accepting leadership.”
Sakura didn’t have the energy to keep up with what Kakashi was saying, but she did have enough frustration for another few swings at her punching bag. Kakashi opened his book again and waited until she punched the bag off the chain, this time splitting the front open so that some of the sang seeped out.
Cursing under her breath, she ran to recover it and keep the sand inside as best as possible. Kakashi followed her over and used the spine of his book to bop her on the head. She looked up with a pout.
“Just go and check them out. Get in a few fights, drink a little and show them how terrible of a leader you would really be. They’ll kick you out soon enough and you’ll be back home before you know it.”
Sakura felt one of her eyebrows raise up. “Oh really, that your plan?”
“Better than breaking Guy’s studio gym again. He’ll not be happy you split another punching bag.”
Sakura felt the color drain from her face. “Maybe I’ll just take a quick vacation to check it out and see what it’s like. I’ll be back once he’s forgotten about this.”
Kakshi wasn’t paying attention to her anymore, but was walking away and giggling to himself about something that happened in his novel.
Sakura reached for the duck-tape and repaired the sandbag as best she could before closing down for the night and heading home. There were tickets on the counter she had been ignoring that would need her attention.
Sakura thought it would be incredibly rude to carry a beer with her wherever she went, so that’s what she did. It was only after she was in Kirigakure’s common market place that she remembered one of the reasons why her parents didn’t bring her to the public places when she was a child. Kiri was wet in more ways that one, and Sakura was by far the only person nursing a drink as she toured the stalls in the market place.
She stopped in front of a colorful stall that sold replica swords and other collector weapons. Kiri was famous for her swordsmen, and the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist had been legends from eons ago. Now in the modern age the name was a title reserved for a handful of swordsmen. If Sakura was correct, there were actually only five swordsmen left, as two of the swords were lost to the ages.
There were shadows trailing her, no no one’s surprise as she stepped into the little shop and smiled to the old woman behind the counter. She looked over the weapons, watching the blades for a reflection that would show her what she needed to know.
Two swords had been lost in the ages of history, but there were replicas on all seven inside the shop, as well as several other notable swords that gained names during the warring states period in history. She cringed when she noticed a few with imperfections, but tried to hide her distaste behind the neck of her beer.
“Brat, where you from to be making a face like that?” the younger shop hand snapped at her, sitting up from behind the counter. He was a little older than her and had a few scars across his face. Something felt off about him and with a curse she realized what it was. He was a plant.
“You treat all your customers like this?” Sakura sneered, not willing to be kind to one of the Kiri guard. He was too well shaped and had the signs of training were all over him. “No wonder it’s dead.”
“You wanna say that again you brat. What do you know?” He bared his teeth and Sakura saw the points where they had been filed. Yup, ANBU, just like Kakashi warned her of.
Ugh, wasn’t Kiri trying to blend in to the modern era? If they were still stuck in the past using chakra so forwardly how would they ever improve? It irked sakura, especially since she knew the technology was crap in the land of water. There were still pay phones on the street corners. It was like stepping back in time and it made her feel…less herself.
“Wow, wow, wow,” Sakura mocked, feeling even less inclined to entertain the undercover plant. “You like to bark, don’t you. That’s all you ever do here, you bark and bark and never use those teeth of yours for anything else.”
“You’re a twig. I’ll break you in half.”
Sakura tilted up her beer and finished it all in a long pull before pulling away. She marched over to where he stood behind his counter and held up a hand. “Just try it. You look like a misshaped ballon. I’ll pop you like a toy.”
He growled and then barked behind him towards the old woman in Mizu, the old language. “Mom, I’m beating up a customer. Watch the shop.”
“Have fun!” the old woman chortled. “Keep the damage minimal.”
One more Wattpad request this round! I do not own Dwalin. He belongs to J.R.R.Tolkien.
Warnings: A bit of fluff and a bit of angst…I think that’s all
Pairings: Dwalin x fem!reader
Dwalin sat with his tankard of ale
in the banquet hall of Erebor. The grumpy dwarf was glad his journey was done.
It had worn on him. Not that he would complain. He had set out to regain his
home with his king, but not for his
king. He had done it for you, to keep his promise to you.
AN: Due to popular demand (and because I haven’t been able to finish the upcoming chapter of An Inch of Gold), here is the epilogue to Samsara. I hope it resolves a lot of the questions you guys have been asking me. I decided to tack it on to the end after all, because it’s so short. Enjoy!
Indra comes back to himself too late.
The flames have marred his wife’s body beyond recognition, and even though he stops before the black tongues can reduce her to ashes, the damage is done.
It’s not the first time he has killed one who professed to love him – one who, against all odds, he found his heart reaching for in return – but this death shakes him. As he turns away, his stomach rebels and he finds himself on his knees, vomiting in reaction to the violence of it all.
This is the first death that he has instantly regretted.