i just can't stop loving these two

i think they kinda kissed somewhere during their duet skate (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

quick doodle b4 going to bed. can you believe this is actually my first time drawing a mouth-to-mouth kiss ༼ つ ಥ_ಥ ༽つ im just sooo in love with these two i can’t stop now how am i gonna survive til season 2 /ugly sobbing
by the way, my ask box is open! let’s chat, anyone? \ (•◡•) /

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#and this, ladies and gentleman, is what i call - development

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Happy birthday !!! @dreamy-94

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(honestly, it’s like 2am and i apologize for this terrible excuse for a birthday present I promise ill draw something better later

I did this as a kind of a memorial for my recently deceased cat, Spike. He had the most beautiful white socks and, yeah, I just loved him a lot. This was pretty therapeutic and I like to think he’d like it if he saw it ahah

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I’M SCREAMING

I’M SCREAMING SO MUCH

THIS CHAPTER GOT EVEN BETTER

IT’S NOT JUST ONE NICE HAIR GUY

THERE ARE TWO NICE HAIR GUYS

I CAN’T STOP SCREAMING

So the last two weeks three of my cis-male mutual friends on facebook have “entered” a relationship with another guy on facebook, as a joke. It makes me so incredibly sad and angry. Can we just please stop treating romantic relationships and love between to men as a joke? It’s not a joke.

Just can we all stop having this fight about who is worse. Who had the worse family situation and who did worse things to the other?

They both suffered abuse, different kinds of abuse and they both handle that abuse differently. They both have done terrible things to each other and they both have brought each other great happiness.

Why does one have to be a villain? Why can’t we understand both sides motivations and try to understand and relate and see the dynamic for what it is?


Two broken boys in love trying to make it work?

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“Oh Madam Sexytary seems a little jealous!” - Tim Daly (x)

*Throws these two amazing dorks at my followers* I love them

Dre @cursetale

Zunde @blesstale

Haunting - A Moriel Fic

Thank you as ever to my wonderful @blackbeak for reading this through for me before I posted it and for sending me the prompt that lead to it! Companion to this. It’s not essential to have read it at all but they do tie in with one another.

Title: Haunting 

Summary: Set in the midst of ACOMAF. Azriel is still desperately trying to infiltrate the queens’ mortal court. His absence takes its toll on Mor who finds her old nightmares returning to her. In a bid to escape them she leaves Velaris and heads to a quiet spot outside the city to gather herself. Unknown to her, Azriel has the same idea. 

TeaserWhile none of the lovers she had taken over the years had ever been allowed to feel like home, Azriel was home.

He was safety and warmth and comfort; the one who could always calm her even when she woke in near hysterics. He had always seen himself as a broken bastard, barely worthy of being included in their court, or of mattering to anyone. Nothing. But ever since he had come for her in the Autumn Court all those years ago and scooped her out of the snow and into his arms, she had struggled to see him as anything less than everything.

Link: AO3 

Mor closes her eyes and slowly tips her head back, exposing her throat to the moon’s blinding white bite. The darkness embraces her like a lover, clinging close, pressing into her skin, coating every curve. But its touch is soothing, comforting, familiar and worn. Unlike any of the lovers she’s taken over the centuries. They had been a soothing comfort for a few nights, weeks, perhaps months. But were always gone, always pushed away, before they felt truly known and familiar the way this darkness does.

She never wanted that, never wanted to get that close to someone, never dared let anyone who shared her bed feel like home. It felt too much like relying on them. And she had decided centuries ago never to bind herself to anyone like that, never to make herself feel owned, even in the slightest of ways, again.

Her freedom means more to her than familiarity or stability. And that’s what she reminds herself of now, drowning in the memories of what was done years ago. They’re things she hasn’t dwelled on this way in decades but they’ve plagued her dreams these past few nights. She is free now.  A marionette who cut her own tangled strings and made her masters bow before her. She is the queen  over the men who once tried to sell her like chattel. She is the conqueror of her nightmares. She is the dreamer released into a new world that smells like hope.

Propping her chin on her knees where they’re tucked in tight against her chest, Mor glances out over her surroundings. She had winnowed here tonight after waking alone and screaming in her room. As the memories continued to stir within her the walls around her had quickly come to feel like the bars of a cage and she’d needed to get out.

This was one of her places in the Night Court. Too far from any of the main cities for any who couldn’t winnow or fly. It is quiet and secluded, untouched and undisturbed for all the centuries she’s been coming to it. The bank is covered in thick, lush grass that looks black in the darkness of the night but by day glows, a stark emerald blanket covering the world.  

The soft carpet of darkness fades smoothly onto the stark, onyx mirror before her. A deep, fathomless glassy lake, still and untouched by the gentle fingers of wind that run through her hair. The sight of it sends thrills dancing along her spine at the same time as it soothes her. Magic lives and breathes in this place, to make the surface of that lake so still. So still that it forms a perfect mirror and the stars that shine overhead glitter in it.

 It’s as though some god captured the essence of night when the world was forming and placed it here. It’s entrancing and safe, welcome for a daughter of night, who spent all her life hiding her dreams from the harsh, calculating eyes of day, only ever daring to whisper them to herself when no-one but the stars looked on. The stars could be trusted with dreams, she had been told as a little girl. It was a habit she had never quite managed to outgrow.

Azriel had been the one who had first brought her to this place; his place, he confessed to her. A place he would come to train undisturbed. A refuge when the horrors of his own past became too much. Somewhere he could go when he just wanted a quiet, calm place to sit and think in peace for a few hours.

 Some nights when she has nightmares and feels the power pulsing beneath her skin as that broken, battered girl she was that still shelters in her heart fights to tear free of it she swallows her demons and makes them dance with her. She pulls a dress from her closet and loses herself in Rita’s for however long it takes her to become part of the music and the rhythm and the atmosphere that always thrums through her favourite dance hall and escape her past.

But some nights, like tonight, the thought of the people pressing in around her and the pounding beat of the music ensnaring her heart and causing it to pulse in time makes her feel sick and claustrophobic. Those are the nights she wakes and feels like she’s been stuffed into a cage that gets smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller with each second she lets it.

On those nights she comes here.

Az would usually have heard and come to her at the first sound of her screams, staying with her or leaving her alone as she needed. But he wasn’t there. He was still in the mortal realm, trying to infiltrate the queens’ castle. He’s been gone for almost a week now, without a flicker of word on his progress or well-being. She knew that was the way he worked, how focused he became-and how poorly he took care of himself as a result. And she knew that he had been gone for longer, to more dangerous places but…But she still worried about him. And missed him.

While none of the lovers she had taken over the years had ever been allowed to feel like home, Azriel was home.

He was safety and warmth and comfort; the one who could always calm her even when she woke in near hysterics. He had always seen himself as a broken bastard, barely worthy of being included in their court, or of mattering to anyone. Nothing. But ever since he had come for her in the Autumn Court all those years ago and scooped her out of the snow and into his arms, she had struggled to see him as anything less than everything.

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