whenever someone says “omg, they are so brotp! So cute!!” I’m always like “you poor, little thing don’t understand the definition of love and flirting. You clearly are not looking at their eyes and body language. Oh, if you only knew… You would be such a trash as I am.”

Types of Couples
  • Caring Duo:Checks in on how their partner is, sends them I love you's just because they can, kissy faces are their most used emojis
  • They're Together, Right?:Always arguing about the stupidest things in the stupidest ways, calls each other Asshole and other assorted insults, has to promise to their friends that they love each other
  • Meme Team:Sends each other memes, use emojis ironically, probably would send ironic gifts to each other
  • Friendly Lovers:Give each other noogies, say 'pal' and 'bud' to each other, talk more like friends but are definitely sweet together
  • Compliment Crew:They will give each other every compliment under the sun, nickname each other flattering phrases, always describe each other in the most flattering way

anonymous asked:

I LOVE YOUR ART, and i have a question??which couples are you shipping at the moment???

Awwww thank you anon!well i’m an all time fan of PATROCHILLES (Patrochilles is my life, my obsession my everything)and now recently i’m shipping Jean and Jeremy from the foxhole court…(thanks to my lovely friend @beanmoreau​) and other ships that i have…they are too many to count

I’ll never quite understand why some people think you have to be gay to ship a gay ship and straight to ship a straight ship. Love is love people. If you think those characters are compatible then ship the hell out it. If you’re straight you are allowed to have gay ships and vice versa if you’re gay.

Person A is a ghost who desperately wants to be alive again. They figure out that Person B, a friend from their past life, has the power to raise the dead. Person B refuses to bring back Person A because there is a chance that using their powers could lead to disaster, so Person A decides to make B’s life hell until they agree to bring A back.

Definition of ‘Ship’

The Oxford Dictionary definition of the term ‘ship’ is as follows:
‘Ship was originally an abbreviation of relationship, and refers to a romantic relationship between two characters in a fictional series – often one that is supported by fans rather than depicted in the series itself. You might find these relationships portrayed in fan fiction or online discussion; those who have a particular interest in a particular ship are known as shippers, which is another word entering Oxford Dictionaries Online in this update. Support for one of these relationships is described with the verb ship – for example, “I will always ship Sherlock and Molly.”’
The OED ships Sherlolly. The OXFORD ENGLISH DICTIONARY ships Sherlolly.

ship IV

Idiots being idiots 

Follows the headcanon that the entire Starkiller Base ships Kylux with Kylo Ren and General Hux being dragged into the mess against their will

part I, part II, part III 

Except that a few nights later they find themselves back at Hux’s. Neither of them is quite sure how it happened. It just did and they don’t question it. That bottle of scotch is still waiting to be finished.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Kylo Ren eventually says. “That lieutenant you took drinking a while ago. What was that about? Did you fuck him?”

“Of course not. I don’t fuck subordinates, especially not ones that low.” Instead Hux explains how he made the poor guy tell him everything that has been going on around the Base in regards to both of them. The bets. The pining squad and the shagging squad. The off-limits-rule.

“It explains so much,” Hux muses. “And here I thought I was cursed.”

“Now that’s just patronizing. How would they even know you’re my type?”

“I’m everybody’s type.”

“Yes, because the whole Galaxy can’t get enough of self-important gingers who love nothing more than to listen to their own voices.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr I-wear-nothing-but-black-until-they-invent-a-darker-colour.”

Ren pointedly looks Hux’s black attire up and down and quirks his lips. “Tell me then. What’s your type?”

“Not you.”

Ren rolls his eyes. “Obviously. Not subordinates, either. What is even left?”

“I’m just saying, what’s to like about some meek type who won’t disagree with you and who doesn’t do much more than tremble in your presence? I prefer it when people have the guts to stand up to me. Everybody always is so fucking scared of me, it gets boring after a while.”

“You tell me,” Ren says glumly.

Hux raises both eyebrows. “And here I thought you’d be enjoying that. Seeing as you do nothing but strut around all the time trying to intimidate everyone with your ridiculous power displays.”

“I am not trying to intimidate everyone. It is not my fault everyone is intimidated so easily. Seeing as every single person on this Base is too preoccupied with their endeavours to set us up, however, I guess I don’t have to care about that anymore, anyway.”

Hux lifts his glass. “Here’s to never getting laid ever again.”

“You know,” Ren says conversationally after taking a sip, “there is still one way we could change that.”

Hux freezes. No. No way. Absolutely no way. He is not going to do that. He is never going to agree to the suggestion Ren is about to make. Never mind that he is about as tall and well-built as they get. Never mind that he is the one person on the entire Base who has no issues standing his ground against Hux. Being celibate is still better. The weak-assed Jedi did it, so Hux should be able to do it, too.

“Break up,” Ren says. “Publicly. As nasty as can get. Lots of screaming, a little bit of tears, many, many insults. It should come quite naturally to you, after all. Make them lose all hope that anything will ever happen again between us. And since I am feeling generous and have more important stuff to do right now, anyway, I will even let you have the bar. Get down there, get drunk with the officers, whinge about me. Convince them just how over we are and get yourself some pity sex.”

Hux stares at Ren, takes a sip, lets the burn run over his tongue. This didn’t go into the direction he expected. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he is impressed. Ren actually came up with an idea he himself hasn’t even thought of yet.

Except that… it would put an end to more than just his forced dry-spell, wouldn’t it?

“Nah,” Hux finally says. “Screw them. If weak-assed Jedi could live in celibacy so can I.”

Ren grins and puts his empty glass back on the table. He stands up. “As you wish. But don’t come running to me in two weeks complaining about blue balls. I am not your go-to-guy, ready to break your heart at a moment’s notice just because you have decided that you really, really need to get laid, after all.”

After the door has fallen shut behind Ren, Hux still stares at the empty glass. It’s impossible, completely unthinkable, but could it be… could it actually be that Ren was being funny just now?

He shakes his head. Not likely. This is not enjoyable. Ren is not enjoyable. Whoever decided that they fit together well was obviously deluded.

After that Hux decides he can get some without anybody’s help and certainly without fake breaking up his fake relationship with Ren. He tries. He really tries. He even goes below his usual hunting range and tries with – gasp! – some of the captains (not Phasma). He gives his very best until he has to concede that no, getting laid as long as everybody is convinced he belongs with Ren is impossible. Completely, absolutely, undoubtedly impossible.

Other things happen, though. He earns himself glances. Nasty glances. Those who dare tsk at him. Simultaneously Kylo Ren receives pats on the back and sympathetic remarks from everyone.

Suddenly people side with Ren.

“They think I’m cheating on you!” Hux finally complains to the one person who will still listen to him – Kylo Ren himself. “How is that even possible? I tell them to change their patrolling routine and half of them forgets for several months and turns the entire Base into chaos. I tell them to stand quietly for thirty minutes while we are doing head count and two minutes later everyone is whispering and prancing around! I tell them to stay inside for the day and no more than ten percent have the self-control to listen to my orders. But the minute they set their minds to ganging up on me they act like one hive. I will kill them. Every single one of them, I am going to execute them, I….”

Ren just laughs. They have opened a new bottle of scotch. Hux is in need of that.

“Me!” Hux continues. “Who has never in his life cheated on anyone!”

“Now that I find hard to believe,” Ren taunts.

“It’s true, though. I have never been stupid enough to tie myself down into something even remotely resembling a relationship committed enough that it deserved any kind of cheating.”

“Right,” Ren says dryly. “That sounds more like you. I apologize for failing to appreciate your ability to perfectly sidestep any kind of positive human contact. Don’t contaminate yourself with sentiments. Got it.”

“Exactly. And still they punish me. Who do they think they are?”

“Well, it looks like you won’t be cheating on me, either, Honey. Everybody is making sure of that.”

Hux lifts his head and glares at Ren. “You will not, under no circumstances, ever call me ‘Honey’ again, do you understand that?”

“You did it first.”

“Ah. Yes. But just because I did it doesn’t mean that you are allowed to.”

“Actually it does.” Ren smiles at him sweetly. “I am not one of your subordinates, trembling before your very gaze. You can glare at me all you want, but your orders mean nothing to me.”

“Somebody really ought to teach you some discipline,” Hux says and refills both of their glasses.

“Well, it won’t be you, Honey,” Ren says, still smiling while he watches Hux squirm. “How does it feel, Hux, to be talking to the one person on this Base who won’t shrink in fear before you? Doesn’t it fill you with excitement?”

“I am practically shivering with pleasure,” Hux replies sardonically. “Have I mentioned how much I get turned on by insubordinate wankers who think they can take it up with me?”

“Yes,” Ren laughs, “you have, actually.”

And then they both fall silent, because in fact, Hux has mentioned that.

Ren nudges the glass in front of him with his finger to make the liquid ripple and stands up. “I think that is my cue to bid you a good night.”

He turns to go.

“Or,” Hux says calmly, “you sit back down, drink that scotch instead of letting it go to waste, and stop being so damn squeamish.”

Neither of them looks at the other. Something is happening here, though neither of them is certain what it is and what it means. Finally, though, Ren turns back around and sits down. He takes the glass with the golden liquid up in his hand.

“Twenty-five years,” Hux says. “Down it in one go and I will smash your face against the table and make you drink Bantha piss for the rest of your sorry life.”

Ren looks up. His lips twitch. “Yes, Phasma has mentioned that you have always been more protective of your scotch than of your own soldiers.”

“She has? Why would she do that?”

Ren shrugs. “She used to do that for a while. Come up to me and offer me some piece of information on your personal habits without my prompting. I didn’t understand what was going on back then, but now I think I am getting the general idea.”

Hux gapes. Frustration creeps up inside him. “Nobody did that for me. Nobody told me anything about you!”

“That’s probably because nobody knows anything about me.”

“Well, that’s just bloody unfair. Spill then.”

Ren shakes his head. “I value my privacy.”

“And I value my scotch. I am still sharing with you, aren’t I? Spill.”

“Oh, but of course. How very noble of you. I suppose I should feel honoured that you deem me worthy enough to bequeath a part of that treasure onto me,” Ren says in mock reverence and there is no doubt this time; he is trying to be funny. Failing, of course, but trying. “Well, what do you want to know? No questions about my family, though.”

“Hmm.” Hux looks down into his glass. He didn’t really expect Ren to agree to this. “Fine. Your lightsaber then. How did you get that?”

“I built it.”

“Get out of here!”

“No really. It’s not that hard. I had the design, I followed it, I built the saber.”

Hux smirks. “It sucks, though.”

“Your scotch sucks.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. It’s personal. No need to retaliate like that. We’ll just leave it at that and move on to the next question.”

Ren shakes his head, smiling again. “Oh no. One question for one piece of information. That’s it, Hux.”

“But that’s unfair! Phasma has told you much more about me and I don’t even know what it is!”

Ren tilts his head. “I suppose that is a bit unfair. Oh well. Too bad for you.” He laughs when he sees Hux’s expression in response to that. “Fine. I reckon I can tell you what she has told me. Don’t come between you and your scotch. You sleep about two hours a night, because you consider more than that a waste of time. Nobody knows how you haven’t dropped dead yet and she suspects drugs. But a brain on drugs feels different to me from an unaffected one and I’m not getting any vibes from you. You don’t like clone armies, because you prefer to train your soldiers yourself. You consider yourself the best at that, anyway. I guess it must have stung quite a bit when FN 2187 disagreed with you, huh? If I want to get you talking, ask about your time at the Academy and simply let you ramble for half an hour. I don’t even have to listen, just make appreciative noises. I will never like listening to your voice quite as much as you yourself do, anyway.”

“One day,” Hux says, “when I don’t need her anymore, she will hang for this.”

Ren smiles his most innocent-looking smile. “Tell me about your time at the Academy, Hux.”

“Are you done with that scotch yet? Good, because I am done with you for today. Get out.”