#constilesations

unfortunately they are not together,,,yet

i feel like the ClassicTM take is a labrador/golden because i mean yea, but my personal favorite is thor as a corgi because i love corgis and im biased

but also the norwegian elkhound

or german shepard

, save 5% by switching to detectivebuttcop insurance (the joke is that used to be one of my urls)

here is my cat wearing a sweater dress

Thanks for the ask!

37. Talk about your current wips.

Uhm. I, uh. So, the thing is, I have about a gazillion wips, but... current ones? Like... I wrote a little over 10k of an 80s rock band AU a few days ago, but then I suddenly couldn’t touch that anymore, and before that, I wrote, idk, a shitload of a demon!Stiles fantasy AU thing that I sorta just left in my docs in some shameful corner after having spent days and days on writing it. So. Uh.

But I can talk a little about the rock band AU, because I recently fell back in love with that idea xD Do you know Bon Jovi? Europe? Yeah. Think something like that, Stiles and Derek in long hair and too tight pants and shit, Stiles’ hair is so fluffy you guys, gosh, and he’s the lead singer, and Derek’s the guitar player, though he sings a lot too, and they’re standing/sitting on either side of the mic, singing love songs that they’ve written for each other (but they obviously haven’t told each other that), and just, there’s so much pining, and they’re so cute jfc.

What I have written sorta turned into a whole thing with being gay in the 80s and shit though, and I think that’s why I sorta lost my go with it, because I’m not a gay man, I was not a gay man in the 80s, and I’m so scared of fucking things up. That I’m not in an 80s rock band is fine, I can just make shit up, wtf, it’s fanfiction, but idk, the 80s weren’t an easy time period.

I do want to say though, that if ANYONE sees this and feels “shit, I wanna write an 80s rock band AU now,” then PLEASE DO. PLEASE. SERIOUSLY. Write our boys with fluffy poodle hair singing love songs to each other, it’s amazing and I want to read it!

Also, for everyone who didn’t ask, here are two examples of Jon Bon Jovi from the 80s. I’m thinking Stiles would look something like that, with the hair and the clothes. It’s amazing. PHOTO and PHOTO. Derek’s hair isn’t as fluffy, it’s straighter and more like just slightly wavy, but it’s longer than Stiles’. Isn’t this just fucking the best? Gosh. I want this so badly, and THIS is the fic I most definitely would want filmed, jfc, could you imagine? *weeps*

Su my darling! Thank you for the ask, and welcome back to Tumblr-land! 💕

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

If you had asked me on jan 1st 2019 I wouldn’t have expected to write any fics! 

That being said, there’s a few that took me by surprise:

Pathless Woods - my longest fic so far, I surprised myself with sustaining my motivation for this fic and have loved seeing people’s reactions. It was written for the brilliant @hd-fan-fair fest!

Watching - a deliciously dark little fic that sprung from my Hozier prompt game

My yet-to-be-revealed erised fic, which I actually adore and can’t wait to yell about with you all!

21.most memorable comment/review

Not to be #cornyasfuck but every single comment or review sticks in my memory and makes me incredibly happy. There’s a few that come to the top of my head though:

Someone described Watching as: “Like a bite of dark chocolate after a sip of whisky.” Which, I loved ofc

The lovely @quicksilvermaid commented on Patient, Hungry, Waiting and said a particular line “might just be the truest thing I've ever read about Harry” which damn near made me flail.

And yesterday someone lovely commented on Pathless Woods and said: “It could be ten times as long and I doubt I would have been any more ready for the end than I was.” Which is just - so bloody lovely.

Salutations o/ 

HE SHOCK

what a good boy!! (with bonus Good Boy makka, automatic extra points)  res level: low, shock level: o f f  t h e  C H A R T S

“well, this is awkward”

continuation of this

“Well, this is awkward,” declares a voice.

The world is a blurry haze of lights and colours. Yuuri isn’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol or his missing glasses. Though, really, getting knocked over by some creature now currently licking at his face really does wonders for dispelling the fog in his head.

“Makkachin, down,” instructs the voice, and the brown blur subsides with a whine. “Are you hurt?” the voice then asks, and moments later a hand extends into Yuuri’s vision. He takes it, groping around himself for his glasses, and manages to pop them back on in time to see the face of a handsome man with silver hair tied back in a ponytail, some of it falling in his eyes. Next to him is the mysterious Makkachin, who turns out to be a standard chocolate-coloured poodle with mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“I’ll live,” Yuuri says, feeling his cheeks heat up under the other man’s inquisitive blue gaze. The man helps him up, brushing some dust off his shoulder. Warmth lingers in the places where the man’s hands touch him.

“I’m sorry about my dog,” the man says, his eyes drifting down to Yuuri’s collar. He straightens it with a smile; Yuuri can feel his hands ghosting along his collarbones even after the man steps away. “Makkachin can get very energetic, even for an old boy like him.”

Yuuri smiles. “It’s all right. Is he yours?”

“Had him since I was a kid.” The man extends his hand again. “I’m Viktor.”

“Yuuri,” replies Yuuri, shaking his hand. Makkachin wags his tail, as if to say his job there is now done, and wanders off in search of food. Yuuri looks out at the carousing all around them, at the dramatic flare of the sun as it slowly creeps towards the horizon, dying the sea and sky in mirroring shades of scarlet and gold. Music fills the air with mirth and melody.

An idea springs to mind. “Dance with me,” he suggests, his hand still warm in Viktor’s. Viktor’s eyes light up like the sky, bright and brilliant, and he nods his assent so eagerly that Yuuri fears his head will fly off.

They head out into the dancing crowd, weaving in amongst other couples. Viktor seems a little overwhelmed by the steps at first, but he’s a quick learner, stepping in time along with Yuuri as they part and rejoin and part once more. Despite the fact that they’d only known each other for a couple minutes, already those minutes that aren’t spent with Viktor’s hand in Yuuri’s feel like a loss.

They dance reels and ceilidhs, quadrilles and waltzes. Viktor moves with apparent grace at the waltz, a strange contrast to Yuuri’s own energetic bouncing. Still, as they cut through the crowd with Viktor’s hand on his waist and his own on Viktor’s shoulder, Yuuri feels the lively energy between them heating into something harder, more wanting.

He doesn’t say much on it, though, only sneaking glances at Viktor as they get some quick refreshments. The ale is cool and familiar down his throat now; Yuuri barely sets down the tankard before he’s roping Viktor back into the merriment.

“Come on, after this dance you can come meet my family!” he exclaims. “We own the best inn in town, and the beds are nice and warm and very, very big.”

“Are you tired?” Viktor asks.

“No,” says Yuuri, and he’ll never be quite sure what possesses him to wink at that moment, but Viktor colours bright crimson under the paper lanterns floating from the trees, and his eyes darken noticeably even in the golden glow.

“One more dance,” Viktor agrees, his voice a little rougher than Yuuri remembers. “But I have a better place for us to go.”

Yuuri’s head spins a little from the exhaustion (and a little from the ale). Viktor, too, seems flushed and tipsy, undisguised want splayed across his face the next time Yuuri reaches out to take his hand. Vaguely, Yuuri wonders if he’s ever seen Viktor around before — if this tall, handsome man is related to the silver-haired boy Yuuri had often glimpsed skating on a pond behind the Feltsman Estate as a child.

The tune hits a new beat for them to enter, and the crowd pulls them in with ease. They exchange hands and link arms and circle around what feels like the entire town, before finally returning to one another near the end. By then, however, Yuuri feels the separation far too keenly, and quickly takes Viktor’s arm as they duck out of the crowd.

“Where to next?” he asks, as Viktor takes a lantern from the tree.

Viktor smiles. “It’s a secret,” he says, and leads Yuuri into the dark.

(tbc)