#my husband returns!!!!!!

[44ryder]

Hercules comes back in the manga!!!!😍😍😍

[hansoeii]

look at you, you're gorgeous!

[edwardbonnets]

how to ask the demon you've been smitten over for 6000 years to dance: an angel's guide

bonus:

[aquarines]

missing that bastard, lestat de lyingcunt or whatever his name is

[yawnderu]

As much as I adore him, being married to Simon is betting on a losing dog. 

It’s missed anniversaries and important dates, it’s him only being home a few months out of the year, it’s having to break down his walls every time someone close to him dies, it’s having the patience of a saint with little to no reward, it’s a rushed apology every single time; maybe with flowers if he manages to find the time, it’s vacation time cut early because he was called for an emergency deployment, it’s walking on eggshells to make sure you don’t trigger him, it’s providing him with constant reassurance that you’ll be safe despite being married to him, it’s giving him all you’ve got until there’s nothing left.

[phantobats]

they've got that kind of sadness to them that you only see in eastern european gay porn.

[p4nishers]

i cant get over the ball being so CLEARLY all for crowley i can't get over aziraphale trying to woo him with a WHOLE FUCKING BALL because that's what he knows that's what romance IS for him because he's been wanting to dance with crowley ever since dancing was invented and he's so stuck in time with the way he dresses and talks and he still thinks a dance is the high of romance AND HE MADE A WHOLE ENTIRE FUCKING BALL FOR CROWLEY JUST SO HE COULD DANCE WITH HIM like now it's so fucking obvious he gave away his BOOKS without a second thought and it was all for crowley he organised a whole JANE AUSTEN THEME BALL just so he could have an excuse to finally dance with the love of his life and i can't get over this i'm shaking my fists and pacing up and down he did not give a single fuck about anything other than dancing with crowley and HE BARELY TOUCHED OTHER PEOPLE'S HANDS WHILE HIS WHOLE FUCKING PALM WAS PRESSED TO CROWLEY'S AND i need to lie down

[eefaevie]

he’s waiting for his husband

[kausparty]

hi so basically i've fallen into salmonmac hell and have sucked up every ounce of content like an ameoba. finished hit the road recently and i like their wedding outfits from the dress up minigame a normal amount

[aziraphalalala]

I am not entirely certain what will happen once the actors & writers strike ends, but I'm pretty sure Michael Sheen will break the sound barrier with how fast he will go feral on the internets about how Aziraphale wants to eat Crowley's ox rib

[leashybebes]

bucktommy sickfic(let)

Tommy squints at his phone, rereading the message carefully, checking closely for tone and spelling. The last thing he wants is to worry Evan. Satisfied, he hits send, and flops down into his bed, immediately regretting the even slightly vigorous motion when it sets off a round of coughing that makes his head throb.

****

It's been a full-on shift. Not bad, but busy, so Buck only sees Tommy's text when he's in the parking lot, ready to leave and head over for date night. It takes him a minute to parse it, because Tommy is normally a very clear texter with impeccable grammar (old man, Buck thinks fondly).

Hi baaby i sosorry can't tonight I ill just a cOld not to baD. Little demon baby snézed in my FACE. Wont die!! Make you up s00n. Like you!

Buck can't help laughing, and then immediately feels bad about it. His first text is to Eddie to ask for Abuela's home cold remedy - a vile tasting but highly effective concoction that still haunts Buck. Then to Hen to double check he's not missing anything obvious from his pharmacy shopping list.

When he pulls into the parking lot outside CVS he dialls Mrs Lee.

"Hey Mrs Lee, it's Evan Buckley - no, no, everything's fine! I was wondering if you could help me out. You know that spicy soup you make, god, please forgive my pronunciation, is it dakgaejang? Could I get the recipe? Yeah, uh-huh, my boyfriend's not well and I can't think of a better cure. Oh, you're an angel, yep, let me grab a pen."

Ten minutes later, he has a recipe, and instructions on the best places to pick up the ingredients. It'll add a bit of time to his journey, but it'll be worth it if he can come up with anything close to the soup she makes. Tommy likes spice anyway, and Buck's always relied on spicy instant noodles to blow the lid off a cold.

When he makes it to Tommy's via Mrs Lee's favorite store on the outskirts of Koreatown, the sound of snoring from the master bedroom is practically shaking the walls, reminding Buck of a plane roaring by only feet above his head. Regardless he bypasses the door, opting to take the pillows and blankets from the guest room instead, setting them up on the couch before he heads into the kitchen to get started on the broth.

****

When Tommy wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later, he feels, if anything, slightly worse. His head is pounding, his ears are ringing, every inch of him aches, and his mouth and throat are the kind of dry and prickly he only usually associates with wildfire season. He's also...maybe experiencing multi-sensory hallucinations because he'd swear he can hear - very faintly through the horrible underwater feeling in his ears - music, and even more faintly smell something like food.

If it really is the world's most considerate burglar, Tommy knows he's in no fit state to fight them off, but he should at least try, right? He fights his way out of the cocoon that his sheets have become, and gets to his feet, only wobbling a little. Before he's even reached his bedroom door, he hears a familiar cacophony of footsteps on the stairs, and when he opens the door it's to see Evan on the other side.

"You're...here?"

"I sure am."

"Did you not get my message?"

"Oh, I did," Evan says, with an inexplicable smirk. "How are you feeling, babe?"

Tommy groans. "I'll never take clear sinuses for granted again."

"Aw, sweetheart. C'mere."

Tommy shakes his head, turning his face away as Evan approaches. "Plague."

Evan's insistent, pulling Tommy into a careful hug that honestly feels amazing. "What's a little plague between boyfriends?"

Tommy lets his head rest on Evan's broad shoulder for the few seconds of relief he gets before his blocked nose makes the position untenable.

"Can't breathe," he gasps out, and Evan rubs his back. It would be soothing, except, "skin hurts," he says, and Evan backs off.

"Okay, hon. C'mere, do you want to come downstairs? I made you a plague nest."

Tommy blinks stupidly, lets himself be steered down the stairs, Evan's hands hovering to steady him the whole way. He's guided towards the couch, which is replete with pillows and blankets. The coffee table has been dragged closer and is home to a box of those tissues infused with balm that are meant to prevent that horrible rubbed-raw feeling, cough sweets in what looks like every available flavour, one medicated and one menthol nose spray, three bars of his favourite chocolate, a carton of orange juice, and a bottle of water with a straw.

"Evan," he manages, and his voice wobbles alarmingly.

Evan's fingers stroke through his disgusting, sweaty hair without even a flinch. What a perfect man. "Don't cry, honey, it'll make your head worse."

Tommy nods and lets himself lean into Evan's touch.

****

Buck gets Tommy settled on the couch, covers him with blankets and squats down next to him.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

Tommy shakes his head, looking revolted by the very idea.

"I know. But it'll make you feel better. It needs another twenty minutes or so, so try to take a nap, okay? I'll be right back. You want the TV on?"

"Nuh," Tommy manages, his eyes already closing.

Buck pushes himself back to his feet and heads into the kitchen. The soup smells pretty damn good, and has that vibrant orange-red colour that promises a punch of heat. Abuela's cold remedy is adding a weird dimension to the smells, so he keeps the door closed in case it bothers Tommy. He also turns the radio off, and finishes up in silence, responding to a few check in texts from the 118 and sending Mrs Lee a photograph of his efforts for her approval.

He gets a cup of the cold remedy, a small bowl of soup, a spoon and a fork, and a range of medications onto a tray and makes his way back out. Tommy is snoring again and Buck nudges stuff around on the coffee table to make room for the tray before waking him with a gentle touch to his cheek.

"Hey, beautiful. Can you sit up for me? I want you to take some pills and eat some soup."

Tommy looks pitiful, his hair sticking up in all directions, his pretty eyes red-rimmed and puffy, his skin clammy.

"'kay," he mutters, and lets Buck brace him as they get him upright in the corner of the couch. Buck rearranges the cushions and pillows around him, tucks a blanket in around his shoulders.

"Okay. First up," he says, handing Tommy the cup of Abuela's home remedy. "This is via Eddie's abuela. There's a lot of ginger and also a little tequila and it's hot, so it'll taste, uh - interesting. But I promise it'll help."

Tommy knocks it back without even a wince and Buck squeezes his shoulder.

"Good job."

He hands Tommy the pills - decongestant, painkiller, anti-inflammatory - and Tommy takes them dutifully.

"Whatsit?" he asks, nodding towards the bowl of soup.

"Dakgaejang. Spicy chicken noodle soup. I got the recipe from Mrs Lee."

"Evan."

"Yeah?"

"You're too good to me." He sounds desolate and Buck feels, not for the first time, like he wants to go back in time and fight Tommy's dad, his CO, every terrible boyfriend he's ever had.

"No such thing, honey. Let me know if you want any help with the soup."

Buck sits next to Tommy on the couch and presses a kiss to his sweaty temple, not letting Tommy duck it.

"Evan. Stop it. I'm so gross."

"Nah," Buck promises. "You're the handsomest plague victim I've ever seen."

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finarfin Fades.

No one expects it, no one’s faded in Valinor since Miriel. The War of Wrath is won and he comes back, waving off the courtiers, well wishers, and congratulators with his usual grace, and walks into the palace of Tirion. To rooms abandoned since their owners left so long ago. Winding deeper and deeper his feet take him to what was once Finwë’s favourite garden.

He’s so tired.

He’s fulfilled his promise to Fëanaro and Nolofinwë, to avenge them. To make the agony of their final moments - agony Finarfin felt, falling to the floor screaming as fire and darkness consumed his spirit - count for something. Now Morgoth is finally gone, but he’s not the only one.

His brothers, larger than life, larger than death, are gone. With them his sons. Niece. Nephews. Grandchildren. His daughter is never to return. He Saw little Nelyo’s death in his dreams and is sure hopes for the child’s own sake that Makalaurë will be close behind.

Little remains. Even less on these golden shores.

So Finarfin sits on a bench long overgrown with vines and weeds, and watches the sun filter through the thicket, wishing the ghosts he sees in his father’s garden would flesh out.

He sits. He waits.

And by the time anyone finds him, it’s too late.

…at least he’s smiling again.

[lotus-pear]

bsd rewatch w my friend means obligatory art of my fav found family ever

[bamgeut]

daily soobin until he returns (feat. beomgyu) [21/?]

[versasfanficwastedump]

“wayne family adventures will return” WHEN

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus with his head in his wife's lap, happily not paying attention to anything, humming one of athenas song and carving something

Some random guy: your majesty----

Odysseus: not bothering to sit up: whatever my wife decided is fine.