Today i was watching some crappy ukrainian matchmaking tvshow and i present you DAT BOI

-he is edgy af
-he is mysterious and wont tell anything about himself
-he is a department chair of Vedic something-something and has ‘a mentor’
-of course no one wanted to date him

and also he is all kylux aus alltogether

so here we have

ben solo kyle ron

mysterious witch au kyle ron

sad myspace au kyle ron

lq matt the radar technician kyle ron

cheesy af modern au kyle ron

glam spoiled prince au kyle ron

and yeah

kyle ron kyle ron

yes, he was just like that: hilarious and stylish

The Perfect Gift

Lucien Modern AU!!! It’s Elain’s birthday and no part of the day is really going as planned, but everything turns out alright in the end. Complete fluff.

Also this is a collaboration with @lexaarts who does BEAUTFUL tog and acomaf work and has made this piece to go along with this fic!! Amazing!!!!

As always, I am happy to hear any and all feedback so please do not hesitate to message me! Happy reading folks

All Elain wanted to do was go home and lay on the couch. Her day hadn’t been tiring or anything, but she was exhausted from working late at the restaurant last night. Lucien had attempted to make pancakes this morning and she had to step in before he burned the house down, but after adding strawberries and Nutella, you could hardly taste the burnt parts. After that, he had rushed out of the house since he had to work all day and told her that she had to go meet the girls at the salon.

Feyre, Nesta, Mor, and Amren had collectively paid for her to have a manicure, pedicure, and massage as her birthday present and gabbed away as she just laid there and took it all in. Of course, it was nice to have the tight muscles kneaded out of her shoulders and feet, but all she really wanted was sleep.

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biffbang  asked:

I love the head canons where Kylo is a good cook and where Hux is so busy with 'important ' stuff, that he doesn't have a clue how to take care of himself. Queue unfortunately hot roommate making Hux soup, sitting on the edge of the bed looking all super hot and amazing in Hux's fever vision trying to force feed his roommate soup. not because he cares or anything just finding a new roommate would be a pain.

Hux refuses to acknowledge that he may have said some things in his fever disillusioned state. About wishing his roommate was this sweet to him all the time, and how he actually likes having him take care of him, and he is super hot, and thank you.

We All Scream For Ice Cream

Raven tries her hardest to ignore the stranger who watches from the distance as she deals once more with a bunch of rich assholes who think it’s fun to complain endlessly about a 3 dollar ice cream cone. If there is one thing Raven has learnt over the years, it’s that rich people will try and get out of paying for anything.

The polo shirt with the popped collar declares that he’s one of the wealthy who flock to the little seaside town in the summer and she all but expects him to come over and add to her woes. That’s what generally happens in this situation. After all, most of those coming to vacation here view the Townies as nothing but staff to cater to their every holiday need. However, he does nothing but observe the proceedings carefully.

The douchebags finally give up, reluctantly hand over cash and walk away.

“Does that happen often?”

Raven turns her service smile glued to her face. As expected, it’s the stranger. “Does what happen often, sir?”

“Customers quibbling over the price of an ice cream cone.”

She eyes him curiously. Her first instinct is to lie as rich assholes don’t usually like to hear that they are rich assholes, but there’s something about him that makes her think she can be honest without hurting an ego that’s been made delicate by lots of money.

So she shrugs and says, “Yeah. More often than you would think considering it’s 3 dollars. But I guess being stingy as fuck is how you stay rich.”

He narrows his eyes a little. “That’s a bitter observation.”

Bristling, Raven states, “I call it as I see it.”

“I didn’t say you were wrong,” he says with a smirk. “It’s well known that my mom only likes to give to charity when it either comes with a tax break or gets her good press.”

“And you?”

“That would be telling,” is all he says before he gives her a little salute and ambles off down the beach.

She cannot help but frown as she watches him go, confused by the strange conversation but appreciative of how well he strolls.


He’s back the next day, standing back and watching her deal with entitled shitheads. He’s just wearing board shorts and a pair of shades this time, looking as if he’s stepped off the cover of a surfing magazine. She cannot help but admire the sight and steals little peaks out of the corner of her eye.

When the latest group disperse, she calls over, “This isn’t free entertainment, you know.”

“How much do you charge to watch you dispatch assholes so deftly?”

“You have to buy an ice cream and then you can watch.”

His smirk turns into a genuine smile and he orders a vanilla cone.

“Vanilla?” she queries with faux innocence. “I didn’t have you pegged as vanilla.”

“Oh I’m definitely not vanilla in the ways that count,” he says suggestively, leaning towards her and smouldering with an ease that definitely does things to her.

“Prove it.”

“Meet me here at seven tonight and I’ll happily oblige.”

She hadn’t been angling for a date, just a little flirtation to pass the day so she tilts her head slightly and looks him up and down. She’s deliberately stayed away from the holiday makers since the whole Finn debacle and a little voice in her head, sounding way too much like Bellamy, tells her to keep it that way. But there’s something about this guy that intrigues her.

“I don’t even know your name,” she says, stalling a little.

“Roan,” he says, holding his hand out for her to shake.

He has nice hands. A little callused as if he’s used to working with them which comes as a surprise.  Somehow the lack of soft, smooth hands makes her mind up. She’s always liked someone who works with their hands.

“Raven,” she replies. “And I’ll meet you here at eight.”

How Does Your Garden Grow

Rating- M (PTSD and related violence)

Thank you to @shady-swan-jones​, @holdmecloseandfast​, and @therealcaptainhook​ for being partners with me in this. You three are amazing.


A chance meeting with Mary Margaret Nolan in a juvenile detention floral design class sets Emma Swan on the path to being a florist. A rehabilitation program for disabled veterans gives Killian Jones his start in horticulture. Neither one ever imagined picking those paths, but they’ll lead to each other. But can they keep the harder aspects of life from tearing them apart? (Modern AU- Non-Magic)  

At Ao3

The Pevensies and Netflix (because I’m convinced that they all have a different relationship with Netflix)

- on it 24/7
- doesn’t know what cable television is anymore
- watches it everywhere
- in the car, on a plane, in the bus, in the gym, in the bathroom
- binges on show after show after show after show
- even likes to watch shows from the kids’ section
- he’s annoyed so many girlfriends and boyfriends of his by only making Netflix and chill dates
- (but without the chill part)

- never on it
- probably used it once or twice for some oldie slasher film
- too busy out partying and with friends to stay in and watch Netflix
- judges Peter for always being on Netflix
- thinks that he needs a life instead of a new show to watch
- really not much of a movie or tv kind of person
- believes there’s more to life than sitting in front of a screen for several hours

- despises Netflix
- hates how long it takes to update shows and post new movies
- doesn’t understand the hype around Netflix
- swears on Hulu Plus and HBO GO
- literally hisses whenever he walks in on Peter using Netflix
- tried to convince his parents to stop paying for Netflix once
- (Peter stopped their parents from doing so)
- Edmund secretly just hates Netflix because Peter loves it

- nice medium
- not obsessed with it
- doesn’t despise it
- watches it on weekends when she’s alone
- or watches movies with friends
- always on the kids’ section, though
- absolutely loves watching old and new Disney and Nickelodeon and CartoonNetwork shows
- will binge them and cry during the old ones because nostalgia
- knows how to control her binges
- a typical Netflix-watcher

Kiss Me, Hanschen Rilow (30 OTP Challenge Day 8)

OTP Challenge by: otp-imagines-cult

Day Eight, First Kiss: Exactly what it sounds like— make a piece inspired by/about your OTP’s first kiss.

 Read the other parts

“I had an amazing time, Hansi!” Ernst chimed as the couple approached the entrance to his dorm. As their third date drew to a close, Hanschen found himself inching ever closer to the other. His plan was already hatching in his mind. “Really. Thank you so much for taking me. I’ve never been to the zoo before.”

“It was my pleasure, Ernst. I enjoyed seeing you so happy,” As Ernst began to blush, the pair stopped at the door to dorm 6B. Only a few more moments now for Hanschen to put his plan into action. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Otto’s for game night.”

Ernst nodded, pulling out his key as it was already late and Melchior had probably already gone to bed. If he hadn’t been, they would have heard him blaring Abba through the door. His ‘thinking music’. “Yeah. I’ll be there. I guess I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Hanschen.”

“Goodnight, Ernst,” Hanschen replied smoothly before springing into action. He moved quickly and fluidly. He got on his tip toes, right hand calculated as it moved to Ernst’s cheek. He steadily guided Ernst down to him with his own mouth half open expectedly and his eyes already closed. It was when their lips were less than an inch apart that the plan dipped south.

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Sleazy Pete’s Fun-Time Mirror-House

/by @huzzah-frib/My first modern AU! Taking place at a good ol’ fashioned fair.

/ /
The pink of the cotton candy stuck to her fingers as she pulled apart the confection with her teeth. Margaery was lagging behind, begging for another go on the Scrambler. Or the Parachutes. Or the Tip-Top. Any ride that spun around, which normally made Sansa queazy for awhile.

After two lemonades, an elephant-ear and now the pink-and-blue spun sugar, she was convinced the rumble in her stomach would never cease. She was still licking at the cotton candy on her forefinger when she locked eyes with him. He was leaning against the outside of some sort of funhouse, a twisted smirk curling on his lips. He had an even amount of salt-and-pepper scruff on his face, and his left eyebrow arched when he noticed her.

The sugar-high kicked in and her heart began to beat a little faster.

“Oh, this will be so much fun!” Called Margaery who had grabbed Sansa’s hand and was dragging her towards the small two-story building. Lights were flashing on and off around the words that read “House of Mirrors” and Sansa shook her head in protest.

“Not after those rides,” she rolled up the remainder of the fluffy treat and stuffed it into her small black backpack. Margery just shook her head and pulled harder, Sansa stumbling up to the door, an even hue of red flushing her cheeks.

“Hello.” Was all the man said. He wasn’t incredibly tall or attractive by her usual standards, but the way he pursed his lips at the end of his greeting caused Sansa to smile.

“How much then?” Margaery dove into her small gold and white purse covered in a floral print and dug around for some loose change.

“Admission is two tickets.” He pointed to the sign directly behind him and Sansa let out a small chuckle, feeling like a complete fool, even if she didn’t ask the question. The two girls nodded as they gathered their remaining tickets. Margaery walked in front, giving him two tickets, and Sansa soon followed.

Although when she approached the man stood up a little straighter and leaned in, keeping his hand on her admittance. Now his mouth was level with her ear and she quite enjoyed the way his words rolled off his tongue in a playful manner.

“For cute redheads, it’s free.” She was sure now that she was blushing as she shook her head and thanked him. “Enjoy.” His voice was a near-whisper and Sansa could feel the sound of his voice, hushed and soothing throughout her entire body. She folded the tickets back into her hand and thanked him once more.

The house began in complete darkness with an occasional strobe of light that would burst through and show them a glimpse of what lay ahead. The next area was just fog and lights, which was followed by a shifting sidewalk. Then the next room was the titled room of mirrors and Margaery eagerly ran up to each one to see her frame contorted in various ways. Sansa preferred the one that stretched her limbs out long, and found the one that made her short and stubby worth a chuckle.

The next room was filled with many ropes from floor to ceiling, some that moved and some that didn’t. It was accompanied by large loud pops that sent the two of them into shrieks of surprise right into a howling fit of laughter. Before she knew it the sun was visible again, and the two girls exited the funhouse with wide smiles on their faces.

She took notice of him again on her way out, mindlessly taking the tickets from each patron of the carnival. He caught her glance and nodded towards her. She smiled in reciprocation and turned to walked away when she noticed her friend’s eyes growing as soon enough the small man was standing right behind her.

“D’have a good time?” He offered a half-smile as he placed both his hands in his back pockets. Margaery shrugged at his question.

“It was alright, yeah.” Sansa smiled as she licked her lips, causing the same puckered smile from before to appear on his face.

“Is this your first time at the fair?”

“This one.” Sansa turned to her friend and shook her head, unsure what she was doing or why she would even think to have a conversation with a greasy carny was beyond her. Margaery was never surprised by anything these days, so she shook it off with small laughter.

“Would you like to play a game?” He removed one of his hands from his pocket and pointed towards the various booths offering a multitude of games.

Both of the girls shrugged and he nodded as he led them to the nearest booth. Running the station was a stout man wearing a large grin. Behind him was a sizable wall covered with balloons hanging from floor to ceiling. The rest of his tent was covered with a variety of stuffed dragons, lions, stags, and various other creatures.

“Alright, Sam.” The man greeted the guy running the booth who replied with a hurried nod.

“Hey there Petyr.” The stout man seemed worried for a moment, struggling to cross over from behind his booth. Petyr slammed down three coins onto the counter of the booth and winked at Sam who supplied him with three darts.

“Every throw gets a prize!” Sam said jovially towards Sansa and Margaery. Petyr turned to hand Sansa the darts but she shook her head in refusal.

“I’m not any good.” She pushed his hand away and they both shot up a glare at the feeling of their hands making contact. Sansa shook the feeling away and dropped her hand quickly but Petyr didn’t move an inch. After a moment he shrugged and stepped towards the booth.

“Are you good at this game, what was it, Petyr?” Margaery asked, a smirk forming on her face. Sansa tossed her a glare but could’t hide the smile growing on her lips as well.

“I don’t need to be good at the game,” he paused to throw his first dart, hitting a bright blue balloon with a loud pop. “I just need to know how to play.” He then quickly threw the last two darts, exploding two more balloons.

Margaery turned to Sansa to mouth “what the fuck” in confusion and Sansa just shook her head, quickly turning her attention back to Petyr.

“Winner!” Sam exclaimed and Petyr turned around to look at Sansa proudly.

“Are you supposed to be impressed?” Margery said out of the corner of her mouth and Sansa nudged her with an elbow.

Sam stepped down with a box and offered it to Petyr to pick his prize. Entranced by the red-head standing a few feet away he snapped out of his daze and dug around the box filled with first-tier prizes. He stopped rummaging when his eyes lit up with delight, pulling out a small plastic crown from the box. He sauntered over to Sansa and placed it atop her head.

“Looks good on you, luv.” He offered a wink and quick nod before walking back to his funhouse, a small line of people gathering outside it’s entrance.

“Well.” Margaery looked at her friend, her mouth twisted with confusion. “That…was something.” Sansa just shrugged. “Flirting with a sleazy carny. Your father will be so proud.” Margaery prodded at her again with her elbow and Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to come back tomorrow?” Sansa turned to look at Margaery as she raised her eyebrows. Margaery just shook her head and turned to walk away.

Before following Sansa found herself unable to look away from the man who just won her a plastic crown, and perhaps a bit of her heart as well.

nohrfidelis  asked:

[sent] who are you what are your intentions with my best friend?

[drafts] silaaaaaaaaaaas. I’m lost and hinoka’s busy.

[drafts] you do gym stuff right? I mean you look like you do. I have no idea where to start with that.

[drafts] I think if I stood on your shoulders we’d be taller than ryoma…but I might just be his hair.

[drafts] [picture of an ice cream swirl] they stole your hairstyle.

[drafts] idk the crushing pressure to be perfect? Good, noble families, amirite?

Sweet taste of nostalgia

A/n: growing up el paraiso paletas were a staple of summer vacation. The paletero would walk block by block with his push cart and ringing bells that was the music of a pied piper. From classic flavours like chocolate and fresa, to melón (cantaloupe) and vanilla with raisins, they were the best treat a dollar could buy. While el paraiso is a company in my hometown, this one shot is set in Anywhere. I hope you enjoy!


“I’m sure your friends will find the idea of a golf themed date to be pretentious, but trust me, TOPGOLF is more about hitting the shit out of a golf ball-” Roan held the door open for Raven “-than whether or not you can qualify for the U.S. Open.”

Raven tried not to let the chip on her shoulder show as she felt slightly out of place in her jeans and  an old CALTECH shirt when Roam seemed to fit in with everyone else in golf tee and shorts. Once they arrived at their bay it became apparent that “hitting the shit outta a golf ball” was just what she needed. She was even pretty pleased at her newfound skill, not quite tournament level, in spite of Roan’s reassurances, but she wouldn’t say no to another date just like this.

The night ended with a walk along the beach by Roan house, shoes in hand, getting to know things most couples happened to take for granted. His favourite colour was blue, hers was red, they both liked action movies, he listened to whatever music was on and she was more into classic rock, and they both didn’t like onions. He made her laugh when he told her about the troublesome child he was growing up, driving his mother the senator crazy with his antics.

But it was the brring brring of a bicycle bell that brought the conservation to a halt. There was a white cart with a picture of popsicles I the side.

“Oh man, I’ve not had a paleta in far too long. Do you want one? I’ll buy.” She grabbed his hand, causing his heart to flutter, and dragged him towards the man with the cart. “Come on pick a flavour.”

He gestured towards the chocolate pop and she orders that and a melon flavour in fluent Spanish, waving off his attempt to pay. The man says something to her that makes her laugh before responding back with “He treats me better than the other ones.”

They walk along shore towards the pier and he tries to think of the best way to ask what the seller asked when she beats him to topic.

“My upbringing wasn’t the easiest, there wasn’t always money left for anything, so the few times I had enough to buy a paleta from the paletero as he passed through the neighborhood, those were truly happy days when you’re seven and your mother’s asleep in her drink. He’s the same seller that used to work in my neighborhood, it’s safer to sell here on the beach, and he remembers seeing my first boyfriend buy these for me, little trinkets to win my heart.” She’s running her toes through the sand as she turns towards him, the nostalgia weighing heavily by the look in her eyes. “He cheated on me and broke my heart once upon a time. I think I’d rather have someone that treats me right that let’s me buy every so often.”

“Well, I think I can do just that.“ Roan replied, closing his eyes as he savored the sweet treat in his hand, and the company of the woman at his side. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Hey Ayame, wanna go on a ride with me outside the city?”

Gods thee wasn’t anything sexier to the girl than seeing the guy she liked on the back of a motorcycle. Immediately she hopped on over, throwing her leather jacket on and straddled the bike behind him. Ayame hugged him from behind after putting her black hair back in a bun. “Hell yes, I need to get away from these assholes.”

Lexa only breaks out of her wondered daze when she hears Clarke giggling beside her. Her blue eyes are glassy when Lexa looks at her. She frowns in confusion until Clarke grabs her cheeks and kisses her messily. “Your face,” she whispers in explanation. 

“Just, your face. You look so happy.”

Yet another piece inspired by the amazing She


Some modern day Hamilton. Credit to @astroidbelt for the Angelica Take a Break text post, X, I laughed for like five minutes straight after reading it. I  wanted to draw Hamilton with a man bun and cute outfits because theirs way too much pain and suffering in act two