Y'all when I say I screamed and cried and shrieked upon opening a package from @shieldmaidenofsherwood today!!!!!
Tumblr made the quality of these so bad obvs (and if you're looking at my grown out manicure DON'T) but like SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!
Plack Crack and Sowing Season AND INCHES AND FALLING AND B-SIDES!! This shit is so thick who let me write this much??? I'm cryin???
I have no words. Thank you to my beloved Kat for such an incredible present and possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me??? Literally nothing else is coming to mind, this is outrageously lovely.
I have a complicated relationship with PCtS/Sowing Season. I really love it and am proud of it (despite all typos and abominations against English grammar that I refuse to edit). It also quite literally connected me with some of my most favorite people ever. And it means a lot to me that people found something worth coming back for in it. BUT sometimes I resent it a little because I haven't been able to write in years and not writing makes me question my identity and blah blah blah.
That said, this is such a gift to my heart and soul. It was a very special moment to open these and hold them physically in my hands and know they were made with such love.
I wanted y'all to see how cool these are and to know that if you still read my silly Teen Wolf fanfic that I appreciate and love you too.
so i'm in the middle of my annual reread of PCTS and the archer by taylor swift comes on and sucker punches me in the gut because it's so applicable and appropriate??? so now i have to ask if you're secretly taylor swift :/
Hold on, let me google something.
Alright, I think it's safe to say if I was secretly Taylor I would be taking my money and running away into the night. THEREFORE, the more likely answer is that she wrote that after reading Play Crack. You heard it here, folks!!
Hey there. Happy New year for you! Since I love your stories so much and love the music I got to explore through it, I would like to hear more of it. Unfortunately, I can't open the 8tracks (country restriction). World you mind posting the track list again so I can make a spotify list for myself? Thank you so much! (And if the answer is no, of course that's not a problem either.) Best wishes for you!
Hello! Happy New Year! Thank you so much. <3
I have this for Play Crack, which breaks it down by chapter because I must’ve been feeling like an overachiever that day: LINK
I don’t presently have track lists around for Sowing Season but if you would also like that, I can make it happen. (Lazy woman’s way out of doing it right now lolll)
It’s been so long since I’ve gotten a Play Crack question like this! How fun! :)
I think Derek has a level of like... extreme musical acumen? I don’t want to call him a prodigy because that’s a bit much but I think he’s just really really good at it. And I think he’s the type of Former Musician whose fingers still move like he’s playing when he’s just lost in thought or fidgeting (WHICH this is something I do, like I find myself fingering scales on pens or thinking through songs I’ve played by calling upon the muscle memory of having played that song, ya feel?).
I don’t think he’d played in a long time, but I think he’d been like that. And his bass collection was mostly close at hand just because he’d moved recently and they’re laying around. The acoustic he grabbed still had the strings loosened (to take pressure off the neck of the instrument just in casies) and all. BUT he basically just sat around and played A LOT of the time between seeing Stiles for the first time in ages and joining them for the tour so he forced himself back up on that horse.
But I do think he resorted back to playing piano more, keeping his music minded-ness close by. :)
tbh i kinda like to imagine smokes for harris sounding similar to with confidence
omg???? I feel like this is the true closest I’ve ever heard to it???? omg. Like I think Smokes is darker, or a little rougher maybe. But holy shit the second this song started playing I was like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was trying to write last night and was like damn I miss romantic Sterek interactions tho?? So I wrote some post-first night at Derek’s place shit to get it out of my system, THUS CREATING THE FIRST B SIDE IN OVER A YEAR.
This is like the writerly equivalent of a page of sketchy sketches, mind you so it’s nothin special BUT IDK I FIGURED I SHOULD SHARE IT ANYWAY BECAUSE I SUCK AT UPDATING. :D
As I said, post-first night at Derek’s place after the tour, I didn’t even pretend to read this over at all and i wrote half of it on my phone so maybe autocorrect will make for something wild, who knows. :D
Happy Valentine’s Day?!
Stiles wakes up to Derek's elbow pressing into the soft part of his belly. He would move away from it, reorganize their limbs, if every part of him didn't ache. Ache from the drive, from sleeping on Scott's too-soft guest bed, from months of tour buses and not enough sleep and constant motion... For the first time in what feels like decades, at least, Stiles is comfortable. As long as he doesn't move. Except for the elbow.
Stiles listens to Derek's breath and let's awareness sink into him. Derek's bed feels the same as it had. A perfect marriage of firm and yielding, piled with blankets and pillows, smelling of his laundry detergent and now their sweat. Stiles thinks he even recognizes the sheets from before, white and off-white striped, the cotton worn soft and smooth with two extra years.
He looks around the room as much as he can without moving. Blank white walls, vaulted ceilings with wooden beams, a ceiling fan, cobwebs in the corners from two months in Europe. His room is little more than utilitarian, the only signs of life being crumpled receipts on the dresser and a hastily folded blanket on the arm of an arm chair.
Stiles remembers the loft. The overstuffed antique leather couch, steel frame bookshelves, plush rugs to cover the cold hardwood he had put in. The bed placed irrationally in front of the huge wall of windows in the direct center of the place. Stiles tries to picture Derek really living in this beautiful house of his and can't.
Derek's elbow pulls away and the bed dips as he turns. His fingers land soft as a feather on Stiles' ribs and flutter down to his hip. Stiles squirms and smiles and rolls closer. Derek catches him in his arms and kisses him on the nose.
"Good morning," he says in the most unintentionally sexy gravel Stiles has ever heard.
"Morning, babe." Stiles wriggles his arms up between their chests and smoothes his thumbs over the dark circles under Derek's eyes.
"What time is it?"
Stiles shrugs. There's pure white light filtering in through the blinds but Stiles has no idea where this room is in relation to the sun.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Good. You?"
"Good." Derek's cheeks rise under Stiles' palms as he smiles. Stiles' heart flutters.
"Are these the same sheets your mom got you for the loft?" Stiles asks instead of the thing he almost said. Derek nods, breathing out a laugh.
Stiles' back is stiff, his hair feels dirty, his dick is waking up more and more the longer he's pressed against Derek. Derek doesn't seem to mind.
"Can we shower? I feel gross."
Derek nods and unravels from Stiles. He stands, the sheets falling away from him and revealing glory. Stiles feels his face heat up. It feels so innocent and real and beautiful to see his skin in the light of day, at home, his body casual and slow and comfortable. Derek quirks an eyebrow and a smirk over his shoulder at Stiles before he heads through a partially open door and flips on a light. Stiles sits up slowly, muscles protesting. Water turns on in the other room and Derek reappears in the doorway, waiting for him. Stiles feels the need to sing well up in his chest. His fingers itch to touch a guitar or Derek. He stands and lets the feeling fuel him toward the bathroom.
The bathroom looks newly renovated. Sleek and cutting edge mixed in with earthy colors. Derek sits on the edge of a tub and pulls Stiles closer so he can wrap his arms around him and kiss his chest. Steam From the shower slowly fills up the room.
In the shower, Derek gets Stiles to sit on a stone ledge and drops to his knees. Stiles wipes water away from Derek's eyes and massages his shoulders as he swirls his tongue around him and kisses him. Derek gets Stiles so close to coming but stops to stand and pull Stiles up with him. Stiles is quivering and speechless when Derek turns them to press Stiles against a wall and hitch his leg up. Stiles shudders and moans as Derek slides his wet fingers into him carefully, mindful of the night before. Stiles' vision fails him when Derek finally presses up into him.
They don't bother to get dressed after the shower. They towel off and fall back into bed and Stiles falls back asleep with Derek curled around him.
When he wakes up, he has no idea what time it is. He hasn’t known all day. Derek is sprawled on his stomach, his hair dry and sticking up at hilarious angles. Stiles runs his fingers up and down his spine before leaning over him and nosing behind his ear.
“Food,” he says when Derek grumbles.
“Hm.”
“I’m going to order food,” Stiles clarifies, assuming Derek’s place is cleared out.
“Hm.”
Stiles grabs a pair of Derek’s pajama pants before he heads out toward wherever he left his phone. He takes in the parts of the house he’d ignored the night before. This place is nothing compared to the loft, Stiles wishes he could shake that. Sure, the loft was the home of a young artist and it was ridiculous in its own way, but this place is sterile. Nothing on the walls, no personal touches. Stiles hates to think about Derek succumbing to numbness. It hurts in the same way it hurts to remember his own mourning and rehab and therapy.
He stares out the window at the tree line waving in the wind. He takes a deep breath and lets himself picture this place as a home. He closes his eyes and imagines couches covered in throw blankets and pictures on the walls and awards on the shelf. He pictures a piano in the corner and shoes in the doorway. And in the middle of all of it, it’s him and Derek hosting dinners with their families or writing songs late into the night or arguing over who has to do the dishes.
This stay is supposed to be temporary. Stiles doesn’t want to put too much stress on this new thing by instantly moving in together. He doesn’t want to feel like an intruder. He doesn’t want to seem desperate. But it’s way too easy to picture himself making this his home.
He finds his phone and orders pizza and answers texts while he waits. Derek eventually emerges from the room, wrapped in a blanket.
“You’re naked under that, aren’t you?” Stiles asks, smiling at him as he joins Stiles on the couch.
“Definitely.”
“Food should be here soon. Allison says our interview with Marin broke some ratings record for MTV and Scott is already abusing my residence in Beacon Hills, he wants me to send him cookies from some place by the hospital, I’ve never even been there.”
“Crumbs? We should go.”
“Well, looks like we have to. And I guess I should see my dad at some point, not today but… you know. And I should probably actually take this house hunt seriously, because my dad will slowly start to throw my shit out if I don’t move it I’m pretty sure…”
“Just move it here,” Derek says, his tone uncertain.
“Nah, I don’t want to clutter your place up.”
Derek gestures around at the mostly empty living room. The whole house is empty. “I don’t care about that.”
“Oh. Well. Maybe. But I’d rather not have to move twice, you know?”
“You don’t have to move twice, you can just move the one time.”
Oh. Stiles takes a deep breath and holds it. He’d wanted Derek to ask him to move in, he’d wanted to just avoid the question altogether and see how long he could stay. But what if it’s too much proximity too soon?
“Unless you don’t want to,” Derek says, looking down at his hands.
“I do want to, but what if we fuck it up? What if you get sick of me?”
“I never get sick of you.”
Stiles still has to remind himself that their breakup hadn’t been what he thought it was, that Derek had never wanted to quit him.
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, but I reserve the right to move out if I think it’ll save us from killing each other.”
Derek’s self-conscious focus on his hands softens and a slight smile curves his lips. “Okay, deal,” he says, looking up. Derek knows he’s won. If Stiles ignores the fear, he knows they’ll be fine. It’s been a long time coming, Stiles feels weirdly confident in their endurance. Stiles feels weirdly strong enough.
“What’d you order?” Derek asks after a couple seconds of comfortable silence.
“Pizza. Jalapenos and pineapple on one for you, you sick fuck, and pepperoni on the other.”
“Ah, you remembered,” he says, leaning against Stiles’ shoulder. “Romance is alive and well.”
Stiles turns his head to kiss him on the forehead. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I hope you’re ready to welcome way too many guitars into your home, because that’s what lies ahead.”
I need an update on sowing season. I'm dying here!! Pleaaaaase??? u_u
OH MAN I’ve been so busy it’s unbelievable. Work work work, weekend spent teching a Christmas choir thing, work work work, christmas, work work work THREE CONCERTS THIS WEEK???,work workwork wokrweo, etc forever.
But soon, my friend, soon. Ish. Hopefully. I have about 2.5k of the next chapter written right now so if I get to be a hermit on my day off on Friday I’ll see what I can do. >:)
HOW ABOUT A PREVIEW? WANT A PREVIEW? I feel bad, I haven’t posted in like a month right? Yikes. Preview below the cut, y’all. Besos besos.
“I’m not playing this season,” Derek says in a firm way,as if rehearsing it for another audience.
“Since when?” Stiles asks.
Derek flicks his eyes toward him. “I just don’t want to,”he says with a tight jaw, like a warning. Stiles gets the message loud andclear.
Scott lets out a low whistle. “Is your family like… alacrosse family? Is that going to be an issue?”
Derek clears his throat and looks down at his lunchbefore looking back up, composing an expression. “They’re not… that much of alacrosse family.”
Scott lets out a low whistle, Lydia laughs humorlessly.Stiles feels a twinge of concern.
“Well, I successfully quit dance after like 10 years ofit, so if you need any pointers, let me know. I suggest taking up a musicalinstrument, parents like that,” Lydia says. “And so do college admissionsboards.”
Derek smiles at her and Stiles’ concern ebbs away. Lydiasmiles back. Scott narrows his eyes and examines Derek closely.
“We need a bassist,” he says finally, leaning back in hisseat.
“I play piano,” Derek says, not making eye contact withanyone. Embarrassed.
Stiles, Scott, and Lydia stare at him until he’s forcedto look back. Stiles isn’t sure what’s going through the others’ minds, but heis 100% thinking about how hot this guy would look playing a piano. Dexterousfingers. Stiles definitely doesn’t blush, right?
“Could we usekeys?” Scott asks seriously, looking at Lydia.
