succinct word

anonymous asked:

At the Con in Germany last week, Stephen Walters said something interesting: He said he adores Cait, because "Cait really is all heart". I thought that was very interesting, because I think a lot of fans (and especially non shippers) seem to see Cait as a business-woman and much more rational and less emotional as Sam. When I heard SW say that, I thought though, we don't know her at all and that it would explain a lot of Sam's protective behavior towards her. Also for him always taking the blow?

I totally" agree, anon. Cait has said that she can be shy at times-and this may cause some to see her as less “emotional” especially when compared to very outgoing Sam, when it’s really just shyness. Many actors are more comfortable on stage and otherwise dealing with others when they are in a “role” but are afflicted by shyness when doing interviews or fan encounters when they are just “themselves”. This may be true for Cait as well.

But, as you point out, anon, Sam has her back. Big time. He’s not only her biggest cheerleader, but he’s also her biggest protector as well. We saw this in twitter when a fan suggested that Sam was disrespecting Cait. “Idiot” was his succinct, one word response. This is the only time Sam has ever said anything rude to a fan, ever, and it was in defense of Cait. And we saw it again at the London fan meet when some fans tried to give Cait some trouble over her not appearing at fans conventions or going on the world press tour for Outlander.. “It’s too much” Sam said- and continued to make fan con appearances alone, and also did the Outlander world press tour solo so that Cait could have some time before the Money Monster press that would eat up much of her hiatus. And those are just a small sample of the sort of care he takes of her. It’s apparent in every appearance they make together.

So Sam isn’t just talking the talk that he’s concerned for Cait’s welfare and happiness. He’s walking the walk too. Big time.
And all of that adds up to be a bit more concern and care than the average friend would be expected to provide. Especially if the lady, and gentleman, in question had other “obligations”. But it feels just right if these two were instead “obligated” to each other.

lavellanlove  asked:

Connors: what events from your past (good or bad) most shaped who you are today?

Connors: The birth of my little brother. Learning alchemy at my mother’s side. Inheriting my grandfather’s shield. My father teaching me to use it. A rift opening above my town. The death of my family. The death of my friends. The deaths of everyone I knew. 

Joining the Inquisition.

Honesty Meme

anonymous asked:

if youre still doing head cannons but would love to here your de rolo family head cannons

Dude. My dude.

I am always up for headcanons. (Even if it takes me a few hours to articulate them.) Don’t take any of this too seriously though, since we know almost nothing about the de Rolo family in canon and I’m pretty much just compiling the daydreams I have to pass the time during work.

With all that said…

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Katherine Johnson, the NASA Mathematician Who Advanced Human Rights with a Slide Rule and Pencil
NASA chief Charles Bolden recalls the historic trajectory of the “human computer” who played a key role in the Apollo 11 moon landing, and as a female African-American in the 1960s, shattered stereotypes in the process.
By Charles Bolden

an excerpt:

“In math, you’re either right or you’re wrong,” she said. Her succinct words belie a deep curiosity about the world and dedication to her discipline, despite the prejudices of her time against both women and African-Americans. It was her duty to calculate orbital trajectories and flight times relative to the position of the moon—you know, simple things. In this day and age, when we increasingly rely on technology, it’s hard to believe that John Glenn himself tasked Katherine to double-check the results of the computer calculations before his historic orbital flight, the first by an American. The numbers of the human computer and the machine matched.

anonymous asked:

how would dorian react to someone insisting that iron bull can't be a faithful lover?

THIS WAS REALLY HARD NOT TO TURN INTO A FIC AND I SORT OF FAILED D: also i rambled bc i’m me and i went everywhere, i’m sorry everybody, why is this so long, ffs self

Okay anyway. Man, this is a great question, not only because the answer would evolve over time, but because I think it’d be tied DEEPLY into the fears and insecurities Dorian acquired growing up in a society where homosexuality is taboo. (Obviously Tevinter isn’t a parallel of modern [western/American] society, but I’d reason that the homophobic idea that homosexuals, particularly gay men, are incapable of monogamy would  be a common “observation” in Tevinter, one that Dorian knew about, if not believed.)

So Dorian grows up with an understandably warped opinion on relationships and love, and what he and other gay men are even capable of – though I think he ultimately knows it’s not true, at least in regards to himself. (He loves whoever this Rilenius is, and may have ignored his fears if he’d allowed himself the opportunity to. But it didn’t seem like Dorian genuinely knew Rilenius would’ve “said yes”, whatever that entailed – and that breaks my heart.)

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anonymous asked:

For the Gallya prompt request: Gabby wears a bikini for super undercover mission, Illya is adorable stalker partner. Or Gabby finally learns enough Russian to whisper something dirty into Illya's ear, preferably in Solo's presence and he freezes like a baby deer in the headlights

Illya loves to have the upperhand in things.  He likes to be knowledgeable, to be aware.  He likes knowing things that others do not know, or things that others do not know he knows.  A brutish man, to be sure, but his appearance is deceiving.  Beyond that hulking exterior, there is an incredible mind, and he revels in his own deceitful duality.

Which is exactly why Gaby Teller has not told him she is learning Russian.  

For as much as she loves the complicated, intelligent Illya, she would love it even more if once- just once- she could know something he doesn’t.  Months have gone by with her secret studies, trading the covers of her language textbooks out with the covers of cheap, torrid romance novels so neither Illya nor Napoleon would go anywhere near them.  There have been many times when she’s thought to debut her new talent of the tongue.   She doesn’t, though.  She’s been saving her trump card for a rainy, rainy day.  

And now, sitting in a hotel suite, with Illya next to her on the couch and Napoleon across from them in a chair, an opportunity presents itself and takes Gaby along for a ride.  It’s well past midnight and the two men are caught up in the briefing documents that Gaby finished reading ages ago.  She’s bored and tired, but most of all, she’s sitting close to Illya, inhaling more of his scent with every passing minute and wishing that they were alone and doing something that would make even Napoleon blush.  The voice of reason in the back of her head reminds her to be patient, to just wait until they are done and then kick Napoleon out. So, she starts out simply.  The odd cough to get his attention.  She clears her throat.  She sends long looks his way.  She places a daring hand on his thigh, ready to draw patterns on the sensitive skin until he notices her, only to have him reach out for her absent-mindedly and interlock their fingers.  Then, suddenly feeling hot under her collar and more desperate, ready for her love’s hands to be somewhere other than in her own, she slides her foot out of her heel and brushes his leg with her own.  This motion commands Illya’s attention, and he looks at her, his eyes annoyed at her intrusion into his briefing packet.

“Can I help you with something?” He asks, his voice rough and annoyed.

Napoleon looks up from his own dossier, his eyebrows rising as he takes in the scene before him.  Gaby leans in, her breath hot against Illya’s ear, looking demurely down at their intertwined hands resting on his leg. And then, she pulls her trump card, her ace.  

“Я хочу чтобы ты трахнул меня‘,” she whispers, each word succinct and clear.

I want you to fuck me.  The Russian hears her words loud and clear.  Illya’s entire body freezes at the sound of the command in his own language. and Napoleon watches with finely tuned curiosity as the man looks down at the woman beside him, his gaze suddenly ablaze with passion.  The minxy smile that stretches across Gaby’s smile tells Napoleon that she’s just gotten what she wants.  In one motion, overtaken by the flame in his eyes, Illya has Gaby stretched on her back, pinned between him and the sofa, capturing her mouth with his own.  

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Napoleon says, looking down at his dossier magnanimously, “I’m not even here.”

Illya doesn’t even bother looking up as he revels in the feeling of the skin of Gaby’s shoulders beneath his lips.  

“If you want to keep your eyes, Cowboy, I suggest you hit the road.”

The dangerous growl in Illya’s tone sends Napoleon running for his own hotel suite, leaving the two lovers behind.  He spends the night alone, smirking at the thought of what must be going on in the room below his.  Gaby and Illya spend the night learning the language of each other’s bodies.  And with every passing moment, with every touch Illya presses to her skin, she thanks her lucky stars that she saved her Russian for a rainy day.  

Hotline Bling // Kehlani x Charlie Puth

Drake fans are about the most powerful people in the Tumblrverse, so I’m going to put myself out there and talk a little about the lyrics to Hotline Bling in the context of a judgmental ex-boyfriend wondering why his ex has been actually living life without him - a stark contrast to the sensitive gentlemanly image that Drake’s got going on for him. 

Hotline Bling assumes a whole lot about an ex. Since they haven’t spoken in a while (since you used to call me on my cell phone - but not anymore right?), it might as well have been written while scrolling through the girl’s Insta account (glasses of champagne on the dance floor). 

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Katherine Johnson, the NASA Mathematician Who Advanced Human Rights with a Slide Rule and PencilNASA chief Charles Bolden recalls the historic trajectory of the “human computer” who played a key role in the Apollo 11 moon landing, and as a female African-American in the 1960s, shattered stereotypes in the process.

When I was growing up, in segregated South Carolina, African-American role models in national life were few and far between. Later, when my fellow flight students and I, in training at the Naval Air Station in Meridian, Mississippi, clustered around a small television watching the Apollo 11 moon landing, little did I know that one of the key figures responsible for its success was an unassuming black woman from West Virginia: Katherine Johnson. Hidden Figuresis both an upcoming book and an upcoming movie about her incredible life, and, as the title suggests, Katherine worked behind the scenes but with incredible impact.

When Katherine began at NASA, she and her cohorts were known as “human computers,” and if you talk to her or read quotes from throughout her long career, you can see that precision, that humming mind, constantly at work. She is a human computer, indeed, but one with a quick wit, a quiet ambition, and a confidence in her talents that rose above her era and her surroundings.

“In math, you’re either right or you’re wrong,” she said. Her succinct words belie a deep curiosity about the world and dedication to her discipline, despite the prejudices of her time against both women and African-Americans. It was her duty to calculate orbital trajectories and flight times relative to the position of the moon—you know, simple things. In this day and age, when we increasingly rely on technology, it’s hard to believe that John Glenn himself tasked Katherine to double-check the results of the computer calculations before his historic orbital flight, the first by an American. The numbers of the human computer and the machine matched.

With a slide rule and a pencil, Katherine advanced the cause of human rights and the frontier of human achievement at the same time. Having graduated from high school at 14 and college at 18 at a time when African-Americans often did not go beyond the eighth grade, she used her amazing facility with geometry to calculate Alan Shepard’s flight path and took the Apollo 11 crew to the moon to orbit it, land on it, and return safely to Earth.

I was so proud of Katherine as I sat with hundreds of other guests in the East Room of the White House and watched as she received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Obama last year. Katherine’s great mind and amazing talents advanced our freedoms at the most basic level—the freedom to pursue the biggest dreams we can possibly imagine and to step into any room in the country and take a seat at the table because our expertise and excellence deserve it. Katherine, now 97, took her seat without fanfare. As far as not being equal was concerned, she said, “I didn’t have time for that. My dad taught us ‘you are as good as anybody in this town, but you’re no better.’ ” I’d posit that Katherine was better—not only at math but also at applying her talents with the precision and beauty possible only in mathematics. She achieved the perfect parabola—casting herself to the stars and believing she could chart the journey home.


anonymous asked:

Actually, rabbits don't go through the heat. Foxes do, so it'd be more Judy helping Nick when he's going into the heat.

Yep, you’re right. Technically, rabbits do not have an estrous cycle.

HOWEVER, does (female rabbits) do have a “mating receptivity” cycle of roughly 16 days, in which they will be willing to mate only 11-14 days.

Here’s the reference from the Merck Vet Manual:

Or, in other words, they have their not-horny cycle of 2-5 days every 16 days 😆 

Now, trying to build a civilization if one is horny 68-85% of the time would be… problematic.

So, let’s just assume that evolution – which had, in the Zooniverse anyways, allowed them to stand on their two hind legs + have speech – modified the cycle to be longer (say, 29-30 days), while reducing the length of each “horny peak” (say, 1-2 days).

Heat”, in the case of bunnies, would be an acceptable short & succinct word to indicate “Peak Horniness Days” 😁  (despite it being technically inaccurate).


The first time Nick found out about Judy’s “heat” cycle, he was okay, if a bit surprised. He was still an evolved fox after all, he could – and had, many times in his past – “perform on-demand” whenever the situation calls for it. (Judy hitting her Peak Horniness Days *definitely* counts as “the situation calls for it”.) Nick’s seasonal cycle ‘merely’ resulted in a highly increased libido.

Things got … really interesting, when BOTH the fox and the bunny hit their respective Peak Horniness Days … at the same time.

Now, Chief Bogo had enough experience to know that, during such events (that is, a pair of ZPD officers hitting their Peak Horniness Days simultaneously): (1) NO amount of work would be done by the involved parties, (2) some mildly disturbing behavior would be exhibited, and (3) some mild workspace … incidents would happen.

Despite the totally fun entertainment #2 and #3 may have provided to the force, the wise Chief had decided that the best recourse in such a situation is to provide a couple of Annual Mandatory Vacation Days for the deeply intertwined mammals affected.

(His officers totally did not nickname the days as Annual Mandatory Fucking Days. Not at all. No, siree.)

Now, Judy, having spent a significant part of her life among rabbits only, totally did not realize how Peak Horniness Days affected foxes. And Nick, unaware of the reasoning behind the Annual Mandatory Fucking Vacation Days, did not prepare for the… interesting days.

One day, the two managed to … cause some incidents in the ZPD HQ, resulting in them being called into Bogo’s office, on the double.

The Chief mildly reprimanded them for “unsolicited display of excessive affection bordering on indecency and pornography, resulting in the reduced productivity of the rest of Precinct One” and gave them strict orders to “go home and work it out of their system privately”.

The ride home on the two’s scooter was truly a very dangerous ride; two-wheeled vehicles are not a good place to make out on.

사과 (Apologies Pt. 3)

Originally posted by parkchny

For a moment you stared at each other. And then he shuffled back slightly to put some distance between the both of you, one hand carelessly tousling his messy bed hair. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not knowing where to look at. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  You sat up slowly, feeling your joints creak as though they need oiling from your stiff, uncomfortable position. Rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly, you replied, “That’s all right. I’ve been awake for a long time, to be honest.”

  His eyes widened slightly. “So you know…” he trailed off.

  You stared at him, giving him the answer by not giving him an answer.

  “I’ll go make some coffee, so- so that we can talk over a warm beverage,” he decided. You had never known Oh Sehun, confident as he was, to stutter, and you knew that his words were merely an excuse for him to come to terms with reality and think through his later conversations. He needed some time, and maybe you did too. So you nodded and said, “That would be nice.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen area, and a while later you could hear the soft clangs of metal as he prepared the beverages. Quietly, you got up and padded to the master bedroom to collect a clean change of clothes and a towel. Opening the door, you realized that nothing much was out of order in your private space. The bedclothes were a bit more rumpled than usual, but there wasn’t any incriminating evidence leftover from last night, no unfortunate lace underclothes strewn over the rug, no liquid staining the white bedsheets. Things were almost… normal, though nothing could be considered normal about last night and this morning.

  You snatched what you needed from your wardrobe and went to the bathroom. There was not time for a proper wash, but just standing underneath the hot shower, feeling the warm water wash away the grime from the outside world and warm your skin up, made you feel that much better. You gave yourself two minutes. Then you dried up, got changed, reapplied a fresh coat of make-up, and stepped out of your hiding place.

  Sehun was already ready with the steaming mugs of coffee by the time you made it back out to the kitchen, and you slid readily into the high chair opposite him. He didn’t appear to want to talk, yet, so you allowed yourself to wrap your fingers around the mug and bring it to your lips. The coffee left a scalding, bitter trail down your oesophagus, but you swallowed it down anyway. Sehun’s coffee never tasted good. With a pang, you realized what this meant. What would Sehun do without you? He couldn’t even cook instant noodles for himself. How would he survive? Then you brought yourself back down to earth. It would be easy for him to move in with one of his ex-bandmates. Kyungsoo, perhaps. He would cook and tidy up after Sehun. At least, until he found a new girl for himself. Sehun had managed to survive for so long before he met you; he would do fine without you sooner or later. And so had you, so why does it feel like you won’t be able to survive the impending ordeal?

  “So-” Sehun started, just as you said, “I-” Both of you left off awkwardly, waiting for the other to continue. It took a while before Sehun spoke up again, bravely taking the first step into unknown waters. “So you know about what happened last night,” he started again. “I didn’t expect you to be back so early.” He looked down at the table, his long slender fingers brushing the mouth of his cup. “I have no excuses for what I did. I just want you to know that. And I’m sorry. That’s all I have to say.”

  You were surprised by how sweet and succinct his words were. And now it was your turn. “Sehun, I don’t blame you.”

  At your words, he perked up, staring at you with incomprehension.

  “In fact, I’m more sorry than you are,” you continued softly.

  “What- What do you mean?”

  “The fault is all mine, Sehun.” You swallowed. “I have been neglecting you for my work for so long, and I’ve been so terribly insensitive to your needs when you’ve been everything that is so good to me. You don’t deserve a girlfriend like me. I-I understand why you did what you did last night.”

  “That doesn’t make my fault any less grievous,” he insisted, staring straight into your eyes now, holding your gaze. “I should have showed more self-control. I should have spoken to you openly about things instead of letting myself be lured off, by, by-” He couldn’t seem to go on any further.

  “Oh, Sehun,” you sighed.

  “Let’s just say that we’re both at fault, then,” he stated gruffly. “We’re even, then.”

  “No, Sehun,” you shook your head, “we’re far from even. I’ve done it once, I’ll do it again. You’ve done it once, you’ll do it again.” You couldn’t hide the pain from your voice. “We’re no good for each other, you see?”

  “We can change.” For the first time that morning, you can sense the urgency in his tone.

  “Sehun, you really deserve better.”


  “Maybe this is for the best.”

  For the first time since you had known him, you had successfully silenced Oh Sehun, and not for a desirable reason either. Slowly, you stood up and made your way back to the master bedroom. Tried hard to keep the tears in while you packed your bags, because tears were a sign of weakness and you couldn’t let that hold you back now. And all that time he sat outside in the kitchen, still trying to process your words.

  You didn’t have that much to pack, so it only took fifteen minutes before you were out in the hall once more. Walking up to where Sehun was seated, you said, lightly, “Take your time to sell the apartment. Get a good price for it. I’m not in a hurry.”

  “Don’t,” he commanded, and even though he never turned to face you, you could hear the pain dripping, crystal clear, in his voice. Whatever words you had left died in your throat like venom.

  Instead, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed one last kiss to his cheek. You had shared a good many kisses throughout your relationship, of course, ones that spoke of lust and desire, ones that spoke of love and fluff, ones that spoke of angst and pain. And this one, this one spoke of goodbyes and live wells and apologies, of dying sunlight and melting snow and wilting wildflowers.

  “Goodbye, Sehun,” you whispered. Then you turned around and left.

For the longest of time Sehun sat in his original position, staring at your mug of coffee where you had left it, smoke curling upwards from the dark brown beverage like tendrils fading away into the air. And then the smoke disappeared, and all he was left with was coldness, deep and bitter and raging, burning within his heart.

  He felt a weariness too bone-deep and heavy to be expressed with words.

If (Sehun x You)

External image

“If I were to go,

If I were to go to you,”

Crescent-shaped eyes, glittering in the sunlight filtering through leafy branches. Broad shoulders and collarbones peeking out of a flannel button-down. Each feature of his perfectly sculpted frame etched into your mind.

He sat under the cool shade of a towering tree, notebook sprawled open on his lap. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the page numerous times. Partly concealed by the sturdy trunk of a tree across the rolling, green lawns and cobblestone paths of the campus, you stealthily observed each action of Oh Sehun.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind.

What if you approached him first?

“What would you think?

I can’t muster the courage.”

Absorbed in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that you were staring at Sehun- and he was staring back at you, his intent gaze fixed on you. He flashed you a smile and pushed himself off the ground.

Immediately, you began to panic. Gathering your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you scrambled off the ground and hurriedly scurried in the opposite direction. A firm hand lightly grasped your shoulder.

“_____,” his voice rang.

Slowly, you turned around, to see him towering over you, a smile plastered on his face.

“Hey, _____,” he said, “are you busy?”

“If you were to go,

If you were to leave me,”

Sehun was a friend.

A childhood friend.

And your best friend.

But you wished to be much more.

It was a Saturday afternoon, with rain battering the windows of a tranquil cafe. Your laptop and books from your classes were stacked before you, a steaming latte to the right. You stole a glance at your watch.


Sehun had promised to meet you almost half an hour ago. You heaved a sigh, unsettlingly tapping your fingers against the cool glass of the elegant table. Sehun typically wasn’t one to be late- what could have possibly happened?

Another fifteen minutes passed- your latte was cold and your phone was desperately pressed against your ear. The only response was a constant ringing on the other end of the line. You glanced outside the window. Condensation and glistening drops obscured your view. Your stomach dropped, and a slight tremble settled in your fingers.

Did Sehun get into an accident?

The color drained from your face.

“How would I send you away?

I keep worrying.”

With your bag slung over your shoulder and your thin sweater- the only protection you had against the pounding winds and heavy raindrops- wrapped around you, you scoured the streets. You had to find Sehun.

As you continued to search, tears brimmed your eyes. The simple thought of a world without Sehun caused your lungs to clench and your eyes to unknowingly spill tears. Not only was it because you had an unrequited love for Sehun, but he was also a precious friend, perhaps your only friend.

Breathless and legs aching, you stopped to catch your breath, leaning against a brick wall of a building. As choked sobs escaped from your throat, a familiar voice tore through the veil of drumming raindrops.


You whipped your head to find Sehun, his immaculate figure shielded by a single red umbrella. Seeing your tears and your body, drenched in rain and shivering from the cold, he put away the umbrella to wrap you in his warm embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your ear, caressing your hair and wiping your tears. “I’m here now.”

“Where were you?” you choked, breath hitching.

“I totally forgot about meeting you in the cafe,” he said, guilt seething in his voice. “I just ran over from the school library.”

He assured you one last time, “I would never leave you.”

“Because I’m foolish,

I can only look at you from afar.”

Graduation was a fleeting event. Tears were spilled and hats were thrown into the air, only for many of you to gather in the summer and discuss matters, such as jobs and internships.

It was a midsummer evening- warm and somewhat humid with deep auburn hues seeping into the bright blue of the afternoon. Meat sizzled on the barbecue as familiar faces greeted each other with smiles and wrapped each other in headlocks.

A finger tapped you on the shoulder. Whirling around, Sehun greeted you with a toothy grin and plate of sizzling meat. “Want some?” he asked.

You nodded.

A gruff voice called Sehun. Sehun’s head whipped in the direction of a bulky man with a protruding stomach, gesturing wildly. “I’ll talk to you later,” Sehun said, winking at you before proceeding to squeeze through the crowd.

Every summer- and several times in the year, in fact- Sehun’s family would hold a large barbecue at their house. There would be distant relatives, a few closely knotted friends of Sehun, and his annoying younger female cousins who were always swarming him and swallowing him whole. You sat silently on a bench, simply watching as his relatives conversed and and sang along to the melody of a guitar.

Your eyes dragged over the swarm of bodies speckling the lawn to Sehun, leaning casually against a tree, speaking to his younger cousins. You watched as they giggled, blushing shyly and playfully hitting him on the arm.

As Sehun’s best friend, you could go over to him and…

No. You shook the thought out of your head.

You were somewhat content with simply watching him.

“Because it was likely that your heart could change and we could be further apart.”

Sehun threw his head back in laughter. As he let out a sigh and scanned the crowd, his eyes fell upon you, a solitude figure sitting anxiously. Jostling his way through the crowd once more, receiving pats on the back and “Look, it’s Sehun!” from his relatives, Sehun approached your figure.

You tipped your head up to see him smiling down at you. “Follow me,” he said.

He wrapped his fingers around your wrist and led you into his house. He led you up the stairs and to a room, where a balcony rested. You watched Sehun, resting his elbows of the railing of the balcony, fixing his gaze upon the countless stars peppering the sky.

Minutes passed, and the sky deepened to an inky blue hue. The silence was broken when Sehun spoke.

“_____,” he murmured. “I have something important to tell you.”

You nodded, ensuring that he had your attention.

His next few words came out slow and precise. “I enlisted for the military.”

A loud pang in your heart. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped ajar.

“And I’m leaving next week.”


“I’m not changing my mind,” he muttered. “It was my decision; no one forced me into this.” After inhaling sharply, he continued, “I needed to tell you this because I know you have a tendency to worry about me when I’m gone for long periods of time.”

The situation was too sudden to grasp. “N-next week?”

He nodded.

You bit your lower lip.

Tell him! your mind shouted. Tell him that you love him- it’s now or never!

“_____?” Sehun asked. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

Your palms began to sweat nervously. Your pink tongue darted out to anxiously lick your dry lips. If you didn’t tell Sehun now, you would probably regret it- having to wait constantly for his next return and attempting to keep your mind on other things besides him. At the same time, however, if you did tell him yet he rejected, you would send him off with remorse, causing the two of you to drift apart.

You didn’t want your relationship with Sehun to change.

There was no doubt that you wanted to be more than a best friend to Sehun. But friendship always came first.

Sehun questioningly raised an eyebrow.

You gulped nervously, swallowing the lump in your throat. “W-when will you be back?”

A few moments of consideration, and Sehun responded, “I’ll be back for Christmas.”

As a partition of silence settled between the two of you, Sehun cleared his throat and muttered, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back for you.”

“Because I’m really foolish,

I couldn’t tell you that I love you.”

Goodbyes were kept short and succinct. No words were needed as Sehun lowered his cap over his face, shadowing his glistening eyes and murmuring a soft goodbye to you and his family. Your heart wrenched and your lip trembled, attempting to hold in your tears.

You didn’t want Sehun to see you cry.

The next several months were spent waiting. There were a few mere in-between occurrences, such as passing your job interview successfully and getting your first job. But your days always revolved around the thought of Sehun and his well-being, how many days longer till you would see him once more.

Soon, the autumnal breezes and crunchy leaves were dismissed, allowing chilled winds and blankets of snow to replace them. December came by in a blur, and anxiety washed over you at the sight of seeing Sehun once more. After counting the days and marking them off one by one on the calendar resting on the desk in your room, the long-awaited day arrived.

Wrapping a thick coat around your body and pulling on fur boots to keep you warm, a smile crept up your cheeks, forming a cheeky smile. As you bounded through the streets of your neighborhood and to Sehun’s house, there was a visible bounce in your step and a twinkle in your dim eyes. His front door came into view. With your cheeks flushed from the cold, you swung open his front door, only to find his parents, faced by two men wearing dark suits.

Your smile faded, as Sehun’s father leaned against the counter, burying his face into his hands, and his mother turned her head to you, tears spilling down her cheeks. Your worst fears were confirmed when the two men wearing their pristine suits faced away and when Sehun’s mother consolingly croaked your name. “_____,” she murmured.


No. No. No.


You shook your head.

This couldn’t be happening.

Sehun’s mother approached you, carefully wrapping you into an embrace. “_____,” she rasped. “He’s gone.”

“N-no,” you stammered.

“There was an explosion at the base camp,” she said, pausing only to stop for breaths. “They don’t know why but-”

At that moment, the cries of your heart rang louder in your ears than the sobbing of Sehun’s mother. As his mother continued to ramble on, you only salvaged bits and pieces.

His death was almost instant.

That meant there were no last thoughts.

No words resting on his lips at his final breath.

In fact, he must have been absolutely untroubled, at the thought of coming home to a twinkling Christmas tree and a warm, homemade meal with his family.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you tore away from his mother’s embrace and ran out out the door, away from the calls of his parents. Your legs carried you only so far. Your legs gave way and you fell to the ground, toes benumbed and fingertips frostbitten from the cold.

Sehun was gone.


Before you ever had the chance to tell him that you loved him.

You let out a scream of frustration.

Now, he would never know.

“Because I’m really foolish,

I couldn’t tell you that I love you.”


25 Romantic Words That Don't Exist in English but Should

Sometimes words aren’t enough to communicate with the object of your affection — English words, that is. In case you aren’t lucky enough to speak 12 languages fluently, we’ve compiled a love and dating-themed vocabulary list drawn from sources as varied as Tagalog, Dutch, and Inuit. Get over your saudade, indulge in a little cafuné, and you’ll be queesting in no time.

  1. Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan, Tierra del Fuego) – This term, which holds the Guinness World Record for “most succinct word,” means “looking at each other hoping that either will offer to do something which both parties desire but are unwilling to do.”
  2. Saudade (Portuguese) - A melancholic nostalgia for someone or something from the past.
  3. Tuqburni (Arabic) – The literal translation is “You bury me,” referring to a love so deep you can’t imagine living life without your partner.
  4. Bakku-shan (Japanese) - A girl who’s only attractive when she’s viewed from behind.
  5. Forelsket (Norwegian) – That intoxicatingly euphoric feeling you experience when you’re first falling in love.
  6. Cafuné (Portuguese) - The act of running your fingers through your lover’s hair.
  7. Paasa (Tagalog) – “A person who leads someone on (intentionally or not). Appearing as if they are genuinely interested romantically when they aren’t.”

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anonymous asked:

Who are your favourite fic authors in the kabby fandom and what are your favourite fics? (:

Ahhh I love everyone, but my faves are @brittanias​ (victorias), @grrlinthefireplace​ (ChancellorGriffin), and @marcaskane​ (erudite). Everything by them is fantastic. 

And I’ve picked my ten favorite fics, but if these authors have more than one fic I strongly suggest you check out everything they’ve written, not just the ones I’ve plucked here because I didn’t pick anyone more than once but hoo boy are these people good at fic. OKAY SO HERE WE GO. SAM’S FAVES:

Maelstrom by @marcus-kane​ 

This is one of the first kabby fics I ever read so it’s got a special place in my heart. Summary:  After Finn shot the Grounder in the bunker, his people retaliate by turning Marcus’ rescue mission into a chance for revenge. Abby seizes a dangerous opportunity to get him back.

Teasing, Tents, and Cheesy Romances by @gandalfcalrissian

Listen, there are few things I love more in this world than drawn out UST that eventually gets resolved in the best way. Sex, I’m talking about sex. This fic is so cute and happy and sexy. Summary: It’s springtime at Camp Jaha. Winter is over and Abby and Marcus’s flirting is out of control.

through the wire by @marcaskane

This one is a WIP, but I already love it so much. It’s such a precious little au that fills one of my favorite tropes–the good ol, ‘please be my fake date, oh no I’m actually in love with you for real’–a CLASSIC GUYS. Summary:  Abby’s younger brother is getting married in one week. When she received her RSVP six months ago, she told her family that she’d be bringing her serious, long-term boyfriend as her plus-one. Only problem is, Abby doesn’t have a boyfriend. Marcus Kane is the solution.

The fabric of the heavens by @maegfen

Me before reading this au: soulmate fics are okay I guess but I don’t really buy it. Me after reading this fic: HOLY SHIT I LOVE SOULMATE AU’S THIS IS INCREDIBLE THEY’RE SO DRAWN TO EACH OTHER EVERYTHING MAKES SO MUCH SENSE. Summary: “She meets Marcus Kane on a Wednesday in the middle of July. At the time the day doesn’t seem significant at all, but oh, how every detail of their initial meeting will stick in her mind for years to come.” - Soul bond AU, drifts from pre-series to current canon, but doesn’t use every aspect from the show.

We Are Starting at the End by @galfridian

One of my favorite things about Jess’ writing is that she manages to create such a massive story and yet be so succinct with her words that every one packs a punch. This is another one of the first fics I read for these two and the imagery has stuck with me ever sense. Summary:  Abby remembers three things from her wedding day.

echoes of a city that’s long overgrown by cassi0pei4

dear cassi0pei4 wherever you are, please come back to the kabby fandom. this fic is treasured by us all and we miss you greatly YOU WERE HERE BEFORE HALF OF US. LOOK AT WHAT WE’VE BECOME. COME BACK. This is probably the first smutfic I read for these two and hoo boy it’s so good, plus the frickin title is from a florence and the machine song like honestly just take my heart. Summary: They’re both terrible people. (Abby can be honest with herself about this, even if she couldn’t ever admit it to anyone else.)

 The Middle by @racheltuckerrr

This story is just so good, every part of it. It bounces back and forth between their time on the ark and on earth and has one of the best hug/kiss scenes I’ve ever seen in my life. And because I’m the romantic sap that legit wants kabby to be so canon they get married, this fic is perfect to me. Summary: ‘He considers one of their many beginnings to be the day she tells him he’s her best friend. They’re ten years old and it’s not exactly a heartfelt admission of sincerity, but it’s from the girl he likes, so naturally, it means the world.’

15 Ways to Build a Life by lelawry

I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH. It shows so many little intimate moments and it shows relationships between characters we don’t always get to see interacting. The whole thing is so beautiful I like to imagine this is what happened in the three month time jump tbh. Summary: “I found a couple of things on the last trip to Mount Weather I thought you might like.” Bellamy says to Lincoln as he hands over two small packages. One is a box of art supplies, finer than any he’s ever seen before. The other is a book.Mythology, the title reads, by Edith Hamilton.—15 stories of survivors, strangers, and neighbors.

The Scars That Show by @grrlinthefireplace 

if this fucking fic isn’t at least 80% canon in season 3 I’ll eat my own hands. Okay I’m not gonna eat my hands because it’s basically canon: Kabby [check], Raven’s truck [check], Bellamy/Kane Brotrip [check]. I love this fic, one of my favorites of all time tbh. Summary:  The hostages have returned from Mount Weather. The danger is over. A new life can begin. But Clarke has disappeared, leaving Bellamy adrift, and the only person who sees it is Marcus Kane, who didn’t realize until he saw Abby tortured inside Mount Weather how he really feels about her. As Bellamy pines for the missing Clarke, and Kane tries to break down the walls between himself and Abby, the two men who love the Griffin women find empathy and understanding with each other.


If you’ve ever wondered what pure joy looks like written down, it’s this fic. I love it so much and not just because one of my favorite humans wrote it. It has sparring and public displays of affection, and sassy Raven, and Octavia and Abby teaching each other things, and Marcus trying to impress his girl. The way Brittany writes the intimacy between Marcus and Abby is so beautiful, it’s basically all I want from S3. Summary: The absolute worst kept secret in Camp Jaha was, without a doubt, the betting pools.


anonymous asked:

I always wanted to read a Swan Queen fic for this text post: "soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it’s their last words you ever hear them say so you don’t know who your soulmate is until you lose them" so if you're up for it, I would cry a million tears and thank you forever.

Emma’s soulmate words creep up from her wrist all the way to the crook of her elbow, I’m not going to give up on you. She’s spent so many years of her life being given up on that she almost considers her soulmate words a comfort instead of a curse. Somewhere out there, someday, she’s going to matter to someone. (Sometimes she wants to scream with frustration that she’s going to lose this mysterious person, that she’ll have this gift only to lose it again.)

Regina’s soulmate words are succinct and terrible and have her trembling each time she turns her wrist to see them. I hate you. That’s what her soulmate’s last words to her will be. She can’t believe that this is how it works, that she won’t even find love with the one person destined to love her, that she can be so undesirable for forever. (”You don’t need love,” Mother says, turning her wrist so the writing burns Regina’s eyes. “You need fear.” Mother’s tattoo says Did you ever love me? and Regina wants to rail at the unfairness of Mother being loved and Regina only being hated.)

Lily draws a star on Emma’s wrist and reads the words climbing up her wrist aloud. “Don’t,” Emma says, fearful of what she might lose. Neal never says the words, but he smiles and strokes them right up until the day when he gives up on her like he’d been made for it. 

The men and women privileged enough to see the skin of Regina’s wrist read the words there and muffle snickers, and she kills every one of them. 

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