jane rizzoli, i know what you are

#married (9/?)

they just don't make queerbait this good anymore 😔

Bisexual spectrum

fellas, is it gay to have a homoerotic rivalry with your space ranger partner??

sleepy team doodle <3

if a character means enough to me i will truly never stop thinking about them. i just retire them into a little back room in my brain and periodically bring them out to stare at them under a little light

Who else felt serious depression after Klance got annihilated through the Allurance kiss? Who was seriously mad that Lotor "All I ask is to be judged by my actions rather than your preconceptions of my race", turned out to be a mad ass mass murderer? Who was pissed that they introduced Adam as Shiro's loveinterest, getting everyone hyped for the next season, just to kill him off straight away? Who pretty much rammed their head into a wall when finding out that Lance became a fucking farmer, when that's literally the opposite from what he was achieving to become throughout all the seasons!?

Who couldn't deal with this shit any longer and didn't watch the final season bc wtf is even going on?

Me. It's me.

(Also I'm mad pissed that they made my baby Keith into a 'grizzled' dude. But that's just my personal taste, and not too relevant to the story, so I didn't include it above.)

gonna finish this later : )

I should cry about never having seen a fanart of Will reacting to Hannibal in that motorbike outfit

get this burger away from me

the moment they both sense each other

2x08 || 3x13

Hannibal and Will + warning others about their husband

If he were to be true to himself, which he generally isn't when it comes to this shit, Derek knew he was fucked the very first time he met Stiles Stilinski—no, actually, that's not entirely accurate. It was before that. He was fucked the second he smelled the kid's unique scent hitching a ride on the damp breeze that cut through Beacon Hills preserve on that fateful day, just over two years ago, when Derek stood on his family's land and tapped a claw against the plastic casing of the inhaler he'd found. The inhaler he'd sniffed out from the undergrowth in the middle of the night. The inhaler sitting inside the pocket of his dead Dad's leather jacket that he'd recovered from the ruins of his childhood home. The inhaler he'd returned the day after he played pretend with himself that it had been him who had bitten Scott McCall.

Derek has been playing pretend ever since.

But how is he supposed to pretend now, with the rogue piece of Stiles's clothing screwed up in his fist and him finally home alone in his own apartment? Worse (or better) is the fact that it's the kid's favourite beloved hoodie, the one he wears all the goddamn time which Derek can tell hasn't seen the inside of a washing machine in a while because of the way it reeks of nothing but pure, unadulterated Stiles.

Stiles's red, red hoodie.

Derek's eyes flash blue to remind him of who he is, at the same time as his fangs drop and his short nails extend into yellowed claws. Absently, he thinks of Little Red and The Big Bad Wolf when his form shifts, his resolve shattering like mirror glass as he accepts his seven years of bad luck with grace the moment he shoves his face into the fabric, now releasing that throaty groan that turns to a low growl then into a sex-hungry, shuddering snarl.

He inhales.

Deep; deeply; deeper.

And Derek is lost to Stiles, forever.

.

(from my current sterek WIP fic!)

Hannibal 3.06 Dolce

Scott: Now that you're dating Stiles, it's time we have the shovel talk.

Derek: What are you talking about?

Scott: You know... I have a shovel, and I know how to use it.

Derek: Am I supposed to be scared of your shovel?

Scott: Not the shovel, what happens before I have to use the shovel.

Stiles: It's okay, Scott. You're doing great!