#window sill planter box

[starrylightbox]

Exterior - Transitional Exterior Inspiration for a large transitional beige two-story stucco exterior home remodel with a hip roof

[pixeldistractions]

The work was grueling and gross. These university kids were foul, shameless, and awkward, and he would spare Maria the gritty details. But he felt accomplished, anyway, and a couple thousand dollars richer. The job was done, not just for the day, but for the week. Happy Friday. He finished the day and showered thoroughly. Maria told him to come meet them in town when he finished.

It took him a moment to find them at the center of a small gathering, playing music for a pleased little crowd. Maria played her violin while Johanna danced with a tambourine in her hand. Johanna clashed with the tune, spinning and chiming off-beat, but she was adorable enough to make up for the discord.

He held back and watched from a bench, not wanting to distract her or interrupt. He couldn’t name the song and he didn’t have a musical bone in his body, but it was upbeat and he knew it was impressively played. He couldn’t believe he’d known her for so long and never heard her play until now.

Then his phone rang. It was Colette, so he didn’t answer it.

The boys were fine, he heard from them just an hour ago, so she could leave her complaints in a voice mail. And she would. He waited for it.

Unfortunately, he had to listen to the voicemails for fear that one day it might be something serious.

I had to miss a client meeting for a parent-teacher conference. I had to take them to the dentist, to the doctor, to tai kwon do. How am I supposed to do my job? Because I’m sure you like to think money doesn’t matter, but it does. And you’re where? Utah last week, Arizona this week. Nevada? California? I don’t even know! The phone calls aren’t enough. The child support isn’t enough. They need their dad here. Why do you get to ditch all of your responsibilities and wander around in your wreck of a camper, because what, you hate capitalism or some bullshit? Newsflash, you can’t escape capitalism. You can try, but the rest of us still have to live in it. You’re a selfish sack of shit! You’re a pathetic wreck of a man and my boys deserve so much better!

That woman sure knew how to put a black cloud over his day.

Maria finished her song. It seemed he missed the end of it. She bowed to her enthusiastic crowd, Johanna included. Johanna picked a flower from a roadside planter and presented it to her mother, which made the small crowd coo with awws.

Then she saw him and bounded over to where he stood, throwing her arms around him. He gladly lifted her up off the ground. She was a force of pure happiness strong enough to dispel even the blackest of clouds.

“Wow,” he said. “That was incredible.”

“It’s so funny. I wasn’t even asking for money, but they threw it in my violin case, anyway. I made fifty-five dollars.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time I ever heard you play.”

“Oh, how is that true? But I guess it is. It’s been a while.” Her smile grew timid, but that didn’t diminish its shine. He guessed she must have some experience with performing, even if it was a long time ago. The attention suited her.

“So I’m gonna buy us dinner,” she said. “And you’re going to let me.”

“I can live with that,” he said.

This will transform her. It might take some time, but it will happen. These little flashes of courage, the bursts of inspiration, a walk alone in the forest at sunrise, dipping her bare toes in a river, riding a horse even though she didn’t enjoy it, a tiny concert played for strangers.

She was like a flower once confined to a window sill, finally let out into the wild bright sun. Who ever put her on a windowsill? She didn’t belong there. So he took her outside and the sun shone bright on her face and she bloomed. Oh, how she bloomed.

Jordan felt overwhelming pride to witness it, but also dread. To be a part of it, for as long as she wanted him, before she would soon grow bigger than any need she ever had for him.

Then why would she still want you, you pathetic wreck of a man?

— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (4/10)

^ Just some picspam of JoJo on the playground while they talked.

Next -> // 5.2 start // index

[o-craven-canto]

Extracts from Alan Weisman, The World Without Us, 2007. The book considers the material aspects of human civilization and how long they would last, unattended. If humans were to vanish from Earth, if all maintainance and repairing work ceased, what would happen to what we leave behind?

(The book went on to inspire two speculative documentaries, Life After People by History Channel and Aftermath: Population Zero by National Geographic, emphasizing different aspects of it. They were neat.)

Chapter 2: Unbuilding Our Home

No matter how hermetically you’ve sealed your temperature-tuned interior from the weather, invisible spores penetrate anyway, exploding in sudden outbursts of mold—awful when you see it, worse when you don’t, because it’s hidden behind a painted wall, munching paper sandwiches of gypsum board, rotting studs and floor joists. Or you’ve been colonized by termites, carpenter ants, roaches, hornets, even small mammals.

Most of all, though, you are beset by what in other contexts is the veritable stuff of life: water... moisture enters around the nails. Soon they’re rusting, and their grip begins to loosen... As gravity increases tension on the trusses, the ¼-inch pins securing their now-rusting connector plates pull free from the wet wood, which now sports a fuzzy coating of greenish mold... When the heat went off, pipes burst if you lived where it freezes, and rain is blowing in where windows have cracked from bird collisions and the stress of sagging walls. Even where the glass is still intact, rain and snow mysteriously, inexorably work their way under sills. As the wood continues to rot, trusses start to collapse against each other. Eventually the walls lean to one side, and finally the roof falls in...

While all that disaster was unfolding, squirrels, raccoons, and lizards have been inside, chewing nest holes in the drywall, even as woodpeckers rammed their way through from the other direction... Fallen vinyl siding, whose color began to fade early, is now brittle and cracking as its plasticizers degenerate. The aluminum is in better shape, but salts in water pooling on its surface slowly eat little pits that leave a grainy white coating... Unprotected thin sheet steel disintegrates in a few years. Long before that, the water-soluble gypsum in the sheetrock has washed back into the earth. That leaves the chimney, where all the trouble began. After a century, it’s still standing, but its bricks have begun to drop and break as, little by little, its lime mortar, exposed to temperature swings, crumbles and powders.

If you owned a swimming pool, it’s now a planter box... If the house’s foundation involved a basement, it too is filling with soil and plant life. Brambles and wild grapevines are snaking around steel gas pipes, which will rust away before another century goes by. White plastic PVC plumbing has yellowed and thinned on the side exposed to the light, where its chloride is weathering to hydrochloric acid, dissolving itself and its polyvinyl partners. Only the bathroom tile, the chemical properties of its fired ceramic not unlike those of fossils, is relatively unchanged, although it now lies in a pile mixed with leaf litter.

After 500 years, what is left depends on where in the world you lived. If the climate was temperate, a forest stands in place of a suburb; minus a few hills, it’s begun to resemble what it was before developers, or the farmers they expropriated, first saw it. Amid the trees, half-concealed by a spreading understory, lie aluminum dishwasher parts and stainless steel cookware, their plastic handles splitting but still solid... The chromium alloys that give stainless steel its resilience... will probably continue to do so for millennia, especially if the pots, pans, and carbon-tempered cutlery are buried out of the reach of atmospheric oxygen. One hundred thousand years hence, the intellectual development of whatever creature digs them up might be kicked abruptly to a higher evolutionary plane by the discovery of ready-made tools...

If you were a desert dweller, the plastic components of modern life flake and peel away faster, as polymer chains crack under an ultraviolet barrage of daily sunshine. With less moisture, wood lasts longer there, though any metal in contact with salty desert soils will corrode more quickly. Still, from Roman ruins we can guess that thick cast iron will be around well into the future’s archaeological record, so the odd prospect of fire hydrants sprouting amidst cacti may someday be among the few clues that humanity was here...

In a warmer world... drier, hotter desert climates will be complemented by wetter, stormier mountain weather systems that will send floods roaring downstream, overwhelming dams, spreading over their former alluvial plains, and entombing whatever was built there in annual layers of silt. Within them, fire hydrants, truck tires, shattered plate glass, condominia, and office buildings may remain indefinitely, but as far from sight as the Carboniferous Formation once was.

No memorial will mark their burial, though the roots of cottonwoods, willows, and palms may occasionally make note of their presence. Only eons later, when old mountains have worn away and new ones risen, will young streams cutting fresh canyons through sediments reveal what once, briefly, went on here.

***

Chapter 3: The City Without Us

Under New York, groundwater is always rising… Whenever it rains hard, sewers clog with storm debris… With subway pumps stilled… water would start sluicing away soil under the pavement. Before long, streets start to crater. With no one unclogging sewers, some new watercourses form on the surface… Within 20 years, the water-soaked steel columns that support the street above the East Side’s 4, 5, and 6 trains corrode and buckle. As Lexington Avenue caves in, it becomes a river.

Whenever it is, the repeated freezing and thawing make asphalt and cement split. When snow thaws, water seeps into these fresh cracks. When it freezes, the water expands, and cracks widen… As pavement separates, weeds like mustard, shamrock, and goosegrass blow in from Central Park and work their way down the new cracks, which widen further… The weeds are followed by the city’s most prolific exotic species, the Chinese ailanthus tree… As soil long trapped beneath pavement gets exposed to sun and rain, other species jump in, and soon leaf litter adds to the rising piles of debris clogging the sewer grates.

The early pioneer plants won’t even have to wait for the pavement to fall apart. Starting from the mulch collecting in gutters, a layer of soil will start forming atop New York’s sterile hard shell, and seedlings will sprout…

In the first few years with no heat, pipes burst all over town, the freeze-thaw cycle moves indoors, and things start to seriously deteriorate. Buildings groan as their innards expand and contract; joints between walls and rooflines separate. Where they do, rain leaks in, bolts rust, and facing pops off, exposing insulation. If the city hasn’t burned yet, it will now… with no firemen to answer the call, a dry lightning strike that ignites a decade of dead branches and leaves piling up in Central Park will spread flames through the streets. Within two decades, lightning rods have begun to rust and snap, and roof fires leap among buildings, entering paneled offices filled with paper fuel. Gas lines ignite with a rush of flames that blows out windows. Rain and snow blow in, and soon even poured concrete floors are freezing, thawing, and starting to buckle. Burnt insulation and charred wood add nutrients to Manhattan’s growing soil cap. Native Virginia creeper and poison ivy claw at walls covered with lichens, which thrive in the absence of air pollution. Red-tailed hawks and peregrine falcons nest in increasingly skeletal high-rise structures.

Within two centuries… colonizing trees will have substantially replaced pioneer weeds. Gutters buried under tons of leaf litter provide new, fertile ground for native oaks and maples from city parks. Arriving black locust and autumn olive shrubs fix nitrogen, allowing sunflowers, bluestem, and white snakeroot to move in along with apple trees, their seeds expelled by proliferating birds… as buildings tumble and smash into each other, and lime from crushed concrete raises soil pH, inviting in trees, such as buckthorn and birch, that need less-acidic environments…

In a future that portends stronger and more-frequent hurricanes striking North America’s Atlantic coast, ferocious winds will pummel tall, unsteady structures. Some will topple, knocking down others. Like a gap in the forest when a giant tree falls, new growth will rush in. Gradually, the asphalt jungle will give way to a real one.

***

Chapter 7: What Falls Apart

(context: this chapter describes Varosha, a city in Cyprus evacuated in 1974 after the Turkish invasion, and left abandoned until 2019)

[Two years after abandonment] Asphalt and pavement had cracked… Australian wattles, a fast-growing acacia species used by hotels for landscaping, were popping out midstreet, some nearly three feet high. Creepers from ornamental succulents snaked out of hotel gardens, crossing roads and climbing tree trunks… Concussions from Turkish air force bombs, Cavinder saw, had exploded plate-glass store windows. Boutique mannequins were half-clothed, their imported fabrics flapping in tattered strips…

Pigeon droppings coated everything. Carob rats nested in hotel rooms, living off Yaffa oranges and lemons from former citrus groves… The bell towers of Greek churches were spattered with the blood and feces of hanging bats.

Sheets of sand blew across avenues and covered floors… Now, no bands, just the incessant kneading of the seathat no longer soothed. The wind sighing through open windows became a whine. The cooing of pigeons grew deafening.

Varosha, merely 60 miles from Syria and Lebanon, is too balmy for a freeze-thaw cycle, but its pavement was tossed asunder anyway. The wrecking crews weren’t just trees, Münir marveled, but also flowers. Tiny seeds of wild Cyprus cyclamen had wedged into cracks, germinated, and heaved aside entire slabs of cement…

Two more decades passed… Its encircling fence and barbed wire are now uniformly rusted, but there is nothing left to protect but ghosts. An occasional Coca Cola sign and broadsides posting nightclubs’ cover charges hang on doorways… Fallen limestone facing lies in pieces. Hunks of wall have dropped from buildings to reveal empty rooms… brick-shaped gaps show where mortar has already dissolved. Other than the back-and-forth of pigeons, all that moves is the creaky rotor of one last functioning windmill.

In the meantime, nature continues its reclamation project. Feral geraniums and philodendrons emerge from missing roofs and pour down exterior walls. Flame trees, chinaberries, and thickets of hibiscus, oleander, and passion lilac sprout from nooks where indoors and outdoors now blend. Houses disappear under magenta mounds of bougainvillaea. Lizards and whip snakes skitter through stands of wild asparagus, prickly pear, and six-foot grasses. A spreading ground cover of lemon grass sweetens the air. At night, the darkened beachfront, free of moonlight bathers, crawls with nesting loggerhead and green sea turtles.

***

Chapter 10: The Petro Patch

If, in the immediate aftermath of Homo sapiens petrolerus, the tanks and towers of the Texas petrochemical patch all detonated together in one spectacular roar, after the oily smoke cleared, there would remain melted roads, twisted pipe, crumpled sheathing, and crumbled concrete. White-hot incandescence would have jump-started the corrosion of scrap metals in the salt air, and the polymer chains in hydrocarbon residues would likewise have cracked into smaller, more digestible lengths, hastening biodegradation. Despite the expelled toxins, the soils would also be enriched with burnt carbon, and after a year of rains switchgrass would be growing. A few hardy wildflowers would appear. Gradually, life would resume.

Or, if the faith of Valero Energy’s Fred Newhouse in system safeguards proves warranted—or if the departing oilmen’s last loyal act is to depressurize towers and bank the fires—the disappearance of Texas’s world champion petroleum infrastructure will proceed more slowly. During the first few years, the paint that slows corrosion will go. Over the next two decades, all the storage tanks will exceed their life spans. Soil moisture, rain, salt, and Texas wind will loosen their grip until they leak. Any heavy crude will have hardened by then; weather will crack it, and bugs will eventually eat it.

What liquid fuels that haven’t already evaporated will soak into the ground. When they hit the water table, they’ll float on top because oil is lighter than water. Microbes will find them, realize that they were once only plant life, too, and gradually adapt to eat them. Armadillos will return to burrow in the cleansed soil, among the rotting remains of buried pipe.

Unattended oil drums, pumps, pipes, towers, valves, and bolts will deteriorate at the weakest points, their joints… Until they go, collapsing the metal walls, pigeons that already love to nest atop refinery towers will speed the corruption of carbon steel with their guano, and rattlesnakes will nest in the vacant structures below. As beavers dam the streams that trickle into Galveston Bay, some areas will flood. Houston is generally too warm for a freeze-thaw cycle, but its deltaic clay soils undergo formidable swell-shrink bouts as rains come and go. With no more foundation repairmen to shore up the cracks, in less than a century downtown buildings will start leaning.

… When oil, gas, or groundwater is pumped from beneath the surface, land settles into the space it occupied… Lower the land, raise the seas, add hurricanes far stronger than midsize, Category 3 Alicia, and even before its dams go, the Brazos gets to do again what it did for 80,000 years: like its sister to the east, the Mississippi, it will flood its entire delta… flare towers, catalytic crackers, and fractionating columns, like downtown Houston buildings, will poke out of brackish floodwaters, their foundations rotting while they wait for the waters to recede.

… Below the surface, the oxidizing metal parts of chemical alley will provide a place for Galveston oysters to attach. Silt and oyster shells will slowly bury them, and will then be buried themselves. Within a few million years, enough layers will amass to compress shells into limestone, which will bear an odd, intermittent rusty streak flecked with sparkling traces of nickel, molybdenum, niobium, and chromium. Millions of years after that, someone or something might have the knowledge and tools to recognize the signal of stainless steel. Nothing, however, will remain to suggest that its original form once stood tall over a place called Texas, and breathed fire into the sky.

I cannot really describe the feeling I get from reading these portions in particular, only that it’s the strongest I ever got from any book. It’s certainly not one of joy: I don’t want humans to disappear -- in fact, there are a lot of humans among my family and friends -- and I don’t want human civilization to vanish, after the unspeakable effort it took to put together, with all the promise that, despite everything, it shows. It’s not one of sadness or fear, either. I suppose it’s just one of awe, of terrible grandeur, similar in kind to what I feel when considering the alien horror and beauty of evolved life, its sheer multi-layered complexity, or the unthinkable vastness of geological time.

[chaotic-scraps]

You jokingly called it your little Trash Shrine.

Suspended from the window hung little earrings you'd picked up from the ground over the years.

On the sill, glass jars held marbles, seashells, buttons. A planter grew dandelions, henbit, and white clover. A little vase of blue jay, cardinal, and raven feathers. A decoupage box filled with magazine clippings and pressed flowers.

You were just adding to your little cushion full of yarn bits when you hear skittering on the kitchen floor. Something tugs at your pants leg and you flinch back. A raccoon stares up at you with unnaturally glowing eyes.

The little raccoon chatters and skitters up to the countertop. It promptly sits on top of the cushion you were just stuffing yarn bits into.

"Thank you, human," a voice says in your head.

You jolt. "Y-you're welcome?"

"I truly thought I was all but forgotten," the voice says. "Not many of your kind pay homage to the God of Discarded Treasures."

"Oh, well, I didn't know I was," you say honestly. "I mean, I would have if I did know. You seem like a cool God."

"I am the rain reclaimed from refuse," the voice says. "The rainbows left by gasoline spills. The flavor of raspberries left by castoreum--"

"I'm going to stop you there," you say. "I mean, I can't be the only person who likes to creatively use trash. What did I do differently?"

Silence.

The raccoon turnes and analyzes the shrine, and skitters over to the decoupage box. They nudge the lid off with their nose, and dumps out the little clippings that lay inside.

"It seems you invoked me accidentally," the voice concedes. "The clippings you have in this box just so happen to perfectly match the words to summon me, if left in the right order." It laid out the passage letter by letter.

"Deus Quisquiliae, exaudi orationem meam, benedic mihi thesauris abiectis."

"Well, no wonder no one summons you," you sigh, sipping your tea. "Most people don't speak Latin these days. Maybe some linguists, Catholics, or doctors. God of... I don't know that word. Hear my praises? Exaudi like, exhalted? Benedict Cumberbatch something me something something."

"There are others that would work. Discarded languages. Discarded treasures. The prayer asks that I bless you with the items that deserve a second life."

You took a picture of the Latin phrase in your phone. "Well, I could make this a daily thing. Do you show up every time?"

"Not in ways you might see, but yes."

"Well, okay. Thanks."

In the following days, you find money in the parking lot. A barista offers you a scone they couldn't sell. The persimmon trees drop their fruit as you come near. You find a discarded chair after yours falls apart. You slip down a hill and find a bed of natural clay that you form into shapes and bake in the hot sun.

Perhaps it's not what everyone would consider a blessing.

Some may even think of it as a curse.

Nevertheless, you set aside a little time each day to thank the little Trash God for their bounty.

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

[realpaperdragon]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ruben Original 1950s motorboat ceramic planter 553 9.5" long.

[tinalilith1]

Windowsill Planter Boxes: The Ultimate Solution for Year-Round Herb Gardening

Even a small but mighty window sill planter box can allow you to grow all kinds of herbs and even veggies.

Nowadays, there’s a new trend of self-watering planters that are specifically designed to grow all types of fresh produce.

[artfulabodesguide]

In today’s fast-paced world, where time is a luxury, maintaining a vibrant home environment can be challenging. However, artificial plants for home décor offer a hassle-free and visually appealing solution. Imagine coming home to a lively, lush space that requires minimal upkeep. This guide will introduce you to creative ways to elevate your living spaces using artificial flora, making your home a sanctuary of beauty and tranquility. By the end, you’ll be equipped with the knowledge to effortlessly transform your home using artificial plants and flowers. So, why wait? Let’s dive into the world of artificial flora and discover the endless possibilities for your home decor.

The Magic of Small Artificial Plants for Home Decor

Small artificial plants are perfect for adding a touch of greenery to any space, no matter how compact. These versatile plants can fit into various nooks and crannies, providing a refreshing aesthetic without overwhelming your room.

Desktop Delight: Place small artificial plants on your desk to create a calming workspace. Succulents, cacti, or small ferns in decorative pots can bring life to your home office, making it a pleasant and productive environment.

Shelf Appeal: Add small artificial plants to shelves in your living room or bedroom. They can complement your books and trinkets, creating an organized yet vibrant display.

Bathroom Bliss: Bathrooms often lack natural light, making them ideal for small artificial plants. Place them on countertops, window sills, or shelves to add a touch of nature to your daily routine.

These small artificial plants are easy to maintain and perfect for anyone looking to enhance their living space with minimal effort.

Elevate Your Space with Large Artificial Plants

Large artificial plants can make a bold statement, transforming any room into a lush, green oasis. These plants are ideal for filling empty corners, creating focal points, or even partitioning open spaces.

Corner Accents: Place a tall artificial plant in a corner to instantly brighten up the area. Options like artificial palm trees, fiddle leaf figs, or monsteras can add height and drama to your room.

Room Dividers: Use large artificial plants to divide open spaces in your home. They provide privacy while adding a natural touch, making your space feel cozy and intimate.

Statement Pieces: Make a statement with a large artificial plant in your entryway or living room. It sets the tone for your home, giving guests a welcoming and stylish first impression.

Discover Artificial Flowers for Home Decoration Online

Finding the perfect artificial flowers for your home is easier than ever with the availability of artificial flowers for home decoration online. These flowers come in a variety of styles and colors, allowing you to choose the perfect ones for your space.

Floral Centerpieces: Create stunning centerpieces with artificial flowers. Choose a mix of colors and styles to match the theme of your room or event. They are perfect for dining tables, coffee tables, or even as wedding decorations.

Wall Décor: Use artificial flowers to create unique wall decorations. Flower walls or framed floral arrangements can add a touch of elegance and creativity to any room.

Outdoor Spaces: Don’t limit artificial flowers to indoor use. They can also enhance your outdoor spaces. Use them in planters, window boxes, or as part of your garden décor.

Shopping for artificial flowers online gives you access to a wide range of options, ensuring you find the perfect flowers to complement your home.

Creative Artificial Flower Decoration Ideas

Unleash your creativity with these artificial flower decoration ideas that can transform your home into a beautiful, serene space.

Mix and Match: Combine different types of artificial flowers to create unique arrangements. Mix large blooms with smaller ones, and vary the colors to create a vibrant display.

Seasonal Décor: Change your artificial flower arrangements with the seasons. Use bright, colorful flowers in the summer, and switch to deeper, richer hues in the fall.

DIY Projects: Get creative with DIY projects using artificial flowers. Create wreaths, garlands, or floral letters to personalize your space and showcase your style.

Where to Buy Artificial Plants Online

The convenience of online shopping makes it easy to find and purchase artificial plants. Here are some popular options:

Specialty Stores: Many online stores specialize in artificial plants and flowers, offering a wide range of options to suit any décor style.

Home Décor Retailers: Large home décor retailers often have extensive collections of artificial plants. Check their websites for the latest offerings and sales.

Marketplaces: Online marketplaces like Amazon or Etsy offer a vast selection of artificial plants from various sellers, allowing you to compare prices and styles easily.

When you buy artificial plants online, you can browse a wide selection, read reviews, and often find better deals than in physical stores.

Enhance Your Living Room with Artificial Plants

Artificial plants for living room décor can make your space feel more inviting and lively. Here are some ideas to incorporate artificial plants into your living room:

Table Arrangements: Place artificial flowers in vases on coffee tables or side tables to add a touch of elegance to your living room.

Mantel Displays: Decorate your mantel with a mix of small artificial plants and flowers. They can complement your existing décor and add a fresh, natural look.

Floor Plants: Use large artificial plants in floor pots to fill empty spaces and add height to your room. They can create a natural, cozy atmosphere without the need for watering or sunlight.

Conclusion

Incorporating artificial plants for home décor into your living spaces is a simple yet effective way to enhance your home’s beauty and ambiance. Whether you choose small artificial plants to add subtle touches of greenery or large artificial plants to make a bold statement, the options are endless. With the convenience of shopping for artificial flowers online, you can easily find the perfect pieces to suit your style and needs.

Embrace the creativity of artificial flower decoration ideas to personalize your home and keep it looking fresh and vibrant all year round. And when you’re ready to purchase, remember the many options available for those wondering where to buy artificial plants online. From specialty stores to large retailers, finding the perfect artificial plants for home decor online has never been easier.

So, why wait? Start transforming your home today with the timeless beauty and low-maintenance convenience of artificial plants and flowers. Your home will thank you for it, and you’ll enjoy the benefits of a beautiful, stress-free environment. Whether you’re looking for artificial flowers in vase, an artificial flowers bouquet, or just some inspiration for your artificial plants for living room, this guide has everything you need to create stunning home décor with artificial flora. Happy decorating!

The article was originally posted on : Low-Maintenance Décor : Artificial Plants for Home Decor (artfulabodesguide.com)

[qualitycigarboxes]

Despite the name of this stout wooden box, there are no cakes inside. A muffin may do. They're also great for keeping office supplies and make nice planters for your window sill as well.

[creativebellisa]

Unlock Creative Home Decor Solutions!

It's no secret that the way a home looks can have a significant effect on how its inhabitants feel. Home decor is an important element of creating a comfortable and inviting space. With just a few simple changes, you can transform your home into an elegant and stylish oasis that reflects your personality and lifestyle. Whether you're looking for timeless elegance or modern flair, these home decor ideas will help you achieve the look that fits your needs.

The right home decor can be the perfect way to make a house feel like a home. From color palettes and furniture selection to accent pieces and artwork, there are countless opportunities to let personal style shine through. With creative solutions, it's possible to create a space that is both beautiful and functional.

Small changes can have big impacts in creating an inviting atmosphere for any room of the house. Introducing unique elements such as throw pillows, rugs, mirrors, or patterned curtains can bring personality into a space without breaking the budget. An easy way to experiment with new ideas is by incorporating different textures throughout the home – from cozy blankets and natural fibers to velvet fabrics or modern geometric prints. Accessories such as wall art, lamps and clocks provide additional opportunities for expressing individuality while adding visual interest and character to any living environment.

Ultimately, when it comes to achieving an aesthetically pleasing design that truly reflects one's own style preferences, trial-and-error experimentation is key! By choosing decor options that express individual flair within their desired budget range – whether it be big purchases or small accents – homeowners are sure to get creative with their interior spaces in order to achieve their dream look.

Creative Home Decor

For today’s decorators, there is no limit to the creative possibilities available when it comes to home decor. Repurposing items around the house and using natural materials can help create an environment that is both beautiful and unique. Utilizing a range of colors, textures and patterns can also breathe new life into existing furniture pieces. For those wanting to add extra personality to their living space, DIY projects are a great way to get creative with home decor. Whether you prefer art projects or upcycled furniture pieces, these DIY options provide endless opportunities for customization. Finally, adding plants into your home decor adds both beauty and functionality by purifying the air while adding life and color to any room! With all these ideas in mind, anyone can unlock their creativity and find inspiring solutions for their own home decor needs.

One of the most creative and inventive ways to decorate your home is by repurposing items you already have. You can take a mundane item like an old wooden chair and give it new life with chalk paint or fabric. With a little imagination, you can breathe new life into furniture that has seen better days. You can also use natural materials like sea shells, stones and driftwood to give your home a unique look. These materials are often easy to come by, depending on where you live, and can be used in interesting ways that add texture and interest to any space.

Another great way to get creative with home decor is by upcycling old items into something new. For example, an old dresser drawer could be turned into a rustic planter box filled with succulents or herbs in the kitchen window sill. An old blanket chest could become an ottoman for extra seating when friends come over or a storage bin for toys in the living room. With just a few simple changes, these items can be transformed into functional pieces that will make your home look beautiful without breaking the bank. So don't be afraid to get creative – there are no limits when it comes to home decor!

Statement of Problem: Limited Solutions

Finding creative home decor solutions can be tricky, especially when faced with limited resources. If a homeowner is on a budget or has limited space to work with, they may feel overwhelmed or frustrated when attempting to spruce up their living quarters. It’s easy to get stuck in the same style rut and feel like there are no other options available that fit within their parameters. However, there are some cost-effective and space-saving ideas that can help homeowners bring new life into their homes without breaking the bank.

One great way to make a big impact without spending too much money is by focusing on small details such as lighting fixtures and wall art. Lighting plays an important role in setting the tone of your space, so adding unique pieces at different heights can create visual interest while also staying within budget. Similarly, wall art can be used strategically to draw the eye towards certain areas of the room and create focal points for conversation topics. Purchasing posters from local artists or thrift stores is often very inexpensive but still makes a powerful statement in any room!

Good lighting fixtures can go a long way in creating the perfect home decor. Choosing the right lighting fixtures can be the difference between an ordinary looking room and one that stands out. Not only do they provide excellent illumination, but they are also great for adding some style to your space. Pendant lamps, chandeliers, and wall sconces are all excellent options to consider when setting up your home decor. For example, if you want to create a cozy atmosphere in your living room, try hanging some pendant lamps or chandeliers near your seating area. This will provide soft ambient light that will make it more inviting for you and your guests.

Wall art is another great way of making a big impact without spending too much money. There are so many creative ways of showcasing artwork on a budget - from DIY projects to prints bought online - that even those with tight budgets can find something unique and beautiful to hang in their homes. Wall art not only adds character to any space, but it also allows us to express our individual style and personality through artwork we choose or create ourselves! So if you’re looking for cheap yet effective ways of sprucing up your home decor, consider investing in some nice pieces of wall art as well as quality lighting fixtures for maximum effect!

Repurposing Existing Items

Repurposing existing items is a great way to save money and create something unique. By using old materials, you can get creative with decorating your space or revamping items to give them new life. If you have furniture that no longer fits the style of your home, think outside the box and consider repurposing it. For example, if you have an old dresser that's too large for its original purpose, consider turning it into a vanity or kitchen island. This can be done by adding some paint, hardware, and countertops for extra storage space.

Another way to repurpose items is through upcycling. Upcycling involves taking used objects and creating something new from them. Old wooden pallets make great shelves; all they need is a few coats of paint and some creativity! You can also use old tins to store small items in your kitchen or bathroom; simply spray paint them with bright colors for a touch of personality! With upcycled products, you never know what kind of treasure you’ll find at flea markets or thrift stores - so keep an eye out for anything that could be transformed into something beautiful in your home!

Old wooden pallets can be used to make shelves with a few coats of paint. Painting them a bright color will add a unique touch to any home. Shelves made from old wooden pallets offer a creative way to store and display books, plants, artwork, and more. Additionally, these shelves are perfect for small spaces since they don’t take up much space. Another upcycling idea is transforming furniture pieces into something entirely new. An old armchair can be turned into an ottoman with the addition of some foam padding and fabric. A dresser or cabinet might become the perfect TV stand after adding some wheels and giving it some fresh paint in a bold hue like navy blue or mustard yellow. Upcycling can also involve turning glass jars into fun lanterns or vases; fill them with fairy lights or flowers for an eye-catching effect. With upcycling, the possibilities are endless; it's an easy way to repurpose items without spending too much money on decorating your home.

Upcycling Ideas

Upcycling is a great way to unlock creative home decor solutions. For example, upcycle an old wooden pallet into a bookshelf. Simply attach it to the wall with screws or brackets and use colorful paints to give it new life! You can also use the pallet as a vertical garden by adding pots of herbs and flowering plants. Another idea is to turn old plastic containers into cute planters for herbs and succulents. Get creative with paint and add some decorative touches like ribbons, wrapping paper, or stencils. You can even repurpose glass jars such as jam jars into plant holders! Just make sure you punch holes in the bottom for drainage so your plants don't get waterlogged. Finally, upcycle empty wine bottles as vases for fresh flowers - just be careful when handling glass! These are just some of the many ways you can inject creativity into your home using upcycling ideas.

Upcycling is a fantastic way to bring life back into old items and create beautiful pieces of home decor. It also allows you to be imaginative with the ways you can repurpose old materials in a budget friendly manner. An example of this is upcycling an old wooden pallet into a bookshelf. Using screws or brackets, you can attach the pallet onto your wall and give it some extra personality with colorful paint. For instance, if your room has pink and blue walls, then you could choose to paint the pallet in alternating stripes of those two colors for an eye-catching design. You can also add additional decorations such as patterns or drawers depending on what item needs storing on the shelf itself.

Not only will upcycling allow for a unique piece of furniture within your home but it will also help reduce waste from ending up in landfills by giving items another chance at life! Upcycling is not limited to just furniture either; it can be used for many different types of projects such as making planters out of plastic bottles or turning an old tire into chic ottoman stool! With creative thinking and minimal resources, upcycling offers countless possibilities when it comes to refreshing your home decor without breaking the bank.

DIY Projects

DIY projects are a great way to bring your own unique style and vision into your home. Whether you're looking for an easy upgrade or a complete transformation, there are plenty of options available to suit all levels of skill and experience. DIY projects can give any room in your home a fresh new look, while also adding value and character. With the right tools and materials, you'll be able to create something that is uniquely yours. When it comes to DIY home decor solutions, the possibilities are endless! For example, if you need extra storage space, consider building shelves or cabinets from scratch using woodworking plans from online resources like Instructables. Or if you have more of an artistic flair, try wallpapering a feature wall with intricate patterns or stencils. You could even make furniture from reclaimed wood pieces for a rustic feel—the options are limitless when it comes to DIY home decor ideas!

[brightwitchbrews]

Fall From The Feathered Willow - Part 1

I wrote this teatime tale as a standalone companion story for my novel, Marmalade's Love Potion. My friend pointed out that it would serve as the perfect prologue to the novel, introducing Princess Penelope, the Sisters, and the ethereal Faewood all in a half-hour teatime read!

A young Princess Penelope is homesick and heartbroken at her continued isolation in the Faewood, away from her parents and the glittering lights of Starwood Palace. Her true home.

As her letters to her parents continue to go unanswered, Penelope takes desperate and drastic measures to find her own way home. ~~~

PART ONE

(Read on the Bright Witch website)

The tree bark tore rough scraps from her skirt as Penelope hoisted herself into the upper branches of her favourite tree.

The feathery tendrils of the willow’s foliage brushed against her freckled cheeks as the young princess inched her way along the boughs.

Though small for the age of ten, the wood creaked beneath her weight as Penelope gathered all of her daring to reach the end of the thick branch.

Clinging tight with hands calloused by rural domesticity, her brown skin bearing faint scratches from today’s climb and countless others, Penelope reached into her front pocket and withdrew a folded star of rough paper.

Within its pointed folds and hidden pockets were scribbled pieces of news of her latest adventures: her bravery collecting poison caps at midnight; her courage to collect the clearest quartz from the fastest flowing tides of Faewood’s narrow streams; her strength in fetching pail after pail of rich and mossy earth from the darkest shadows of the Faewood for making frilled plums grow in their singularly strange cottage garden.

With a kiss to the folded page for luck, Penelope tossed the star to the wind, very nearly losing her balance. With a gulp, Penelope inched back along the bough. The ground was so very far below.

Penelope watched her star wheel away, unsteady on the currents of a late autumn breeze. She imagined it arriving spectacularly, arcing gracefully through the throne room to land neatly on her mother’s lap, or perhaps in her father’s outstretched and eager hand. Perhaps they would read the letter aloud to the whole of Starwood court.

Grinning at the thought of all their admiring faces, Penelope shimmied down the tree, tugged on her socks and boots, and dashed through the forest towards the cottage she didn’t expect to be calling home much longer.

This time, they would change their minds. This was the letter that would prove her brave enough to finally return home.

Morning after morning passed with Penelope waiting by her window, staring south across the gold and mauve canopies of the Faewood forest.

Far beyond the distant horizon lay the realm of Starwood and, farther still, in the cradle of the south east of Edenwood Valley, stood Starwood Palace. Penelope’s first and truest home.

Yet each morning, Penelope trod downstairs to breakfast disappointed that no letter had appeared in the post box on her window sill. Over the years, she had made a habit of checking it so frequently for news of home that Sister Rosin had simply lifted it from its place by the cottage gate and installed it amongst the flowers of Penelope’s window planter box.

This morning was no different. The small box, painted blue with twinkling stars of silver ink, was empty. Dejected, yet resolved, Penelope chewed her toast with vigour as Sister Rosin and Sister Heely exchanged concerned glances.

“Where are you off to today then, puppet?” Sister Rosin enquired around a mouthful of honeyed crumpets, earning her a playful smack upside the head from Sister Heely.

“Manners, love,” Sister Heely admonished as Sister Rosin mocked a pout, her lips covered in crumbs.

“Sometimes manners are overrated,” Sister Rosin said in a stage whisper, winking at Penelope, who giggled into her napkin.

“I’m going out to fetch some water from that little pool I found the other day, the one with all the pink coral cap toadstools around it. I have a good feeling it might help the tomatoes grow better.”

“And just how deep into the woods is this pond again?” asked Sister Heely, arching a thin grey eyebrow and peering down at Penelope in suspicion.

“Not very far…” Penelope lied. “Just a little beyond the tree with the frog face and the log with the blue dragonflies…”

“Mhmmm,” Sister Heely sighed, relenting. “Just be sure to be home before dark this time.”

“Yes, Sister Heely,” Penelope exclaimed as she kicked back her chair and washed her breakfast plate.

“And wear your winter scarf, you’ll catch your death in this cold.”

“Yes, Sister Heely,” Penelope replied as she shrugged into her jacket, winding her scarf beneath her thick spiralling curls.

“And keep your shoes on, child, for Fate’s sake!”

“Yes, Sister Heely!” Penelope called, tugging on her boots and racing out the kitchen door into the sprawling tangle of their cottage garden.

“Tomatoes will be nice though, eh?” Sister Rosin muttered cheerfully as Sister Heely scoffed and sank into a chair.

“She’ll be alright, sweets. That girl knows the forest better than we know the elemental charts.”

Sister Heely sighed, enclosing Sister Rosin’s short, thick fingers in her own slender grasp. “I suppose you’re right… but I worry all the same.”

“C’mon, I’ll make us more tea before I head to market.” With a kiss on the top of Sister Heely’s soft silver hair, Sister Rosin stomped about the kitchen until Sister Heely could no longer stand the threat of shattered stoneware, and rose to take over the task. ~~~

Continue reading Part 2: Bright Witch Website

[binch-i-might-be]

smut anon from the pc) ah it's the time to put plants on your window sill :) do you have plants on the window sill? (I think it's called window sill... I mean your fensterbank)

it is called window sill!

I only have plants on the inside tho, and I have those all year around lmao

I do have one (1) singular planter box on my balcony, but I'm usually too lazy to pot some plants into it. we shall see if the fancy strikes me!

[flowerishness]

Narcissus papyraceus et al (Paperwhite daffodil)

Paperwhites are from the South Eastern Mediterranean and they now grow wild in places with similar environments, like Texas and California. To see them blooming outdoors in Vancouver at this time of year is a bit of a surprise. Paperwhites are a darling of the winter florist trade. The bulbs will sprout in a glass of water and the window sills of many a lonely, bachelor apartment are testimony to this fact. 

If you start the bulbs in November, they will take 3 to 5 weeks to flower but if you wait until January they will go from ‘bulb to bloom’ in an incredible two weeks! Most garden books tell you to throw them out when they’re finished blooming but, if you live in a suitable climate, you can plant them out. Although they set speed records with their first bloom, they can take a full three years to flower a second time.

Vancouver doesn’t have the kind of climate that a paperwhite would enjoy. We’re expecting snow on Saturday night and I fear for this little flower. It’s growing in a concrete planter box, ten feet from the beach, with a Southern exposure. We’ve had a green Christmas and one little snowfall in mid-December but all this is about to change.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, vyxynheartssterek!

For @vyxynheartssterek. I hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Forward Motion

Claudia rocked back on her heels and brushed her hair out of her face. “Well, I think that was the last box.”

Stiles admired their shelves, the glossy dark wood lined with dusty tomes that they’d finally hauled from home. They’d been in the attic, the basement, the kitchen and the living room for longer than Stiles had been alive, and seeing them on display, all together and organized neatly instead of piled haphazardly on a box of old baby clothes was surreal and a little thrilling. “It looks great.”

She gave him a sideways look. “We still have stock to put out, pal. Don’t get comfortable.”

He laughed, knocking their elbows together. “Yeah yeah. It still looks good. I told you it would.”

She snorted. “Save the “I told you so”s until after opening day. Why don’t you go get us some caffeine to power us through until lunch, then we’ll get your dad to help us with some of this?”

“He said he’d help this morning, too.” Stiles stepped over a crate of crystals, around two stacks of boxes, and through a maze of shelves they’d yet to fill. “Usual order?”

“Yes, please. Oh, can you move that shelf to the window on your way out? It’s where I want to put the potted herbs.”

“Sure. Be right back.” He maneuvered the herb shelf—still empty for the moment—over to the window, adjusting it until it was lined up with the window, before he stepped outside. It was chilly out, just on the edge of cold, with a breeze that smelled like wood smoke. He turned and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, balancing his sneakers on the curb so he could admire their sign.

It’d just arrived the day behavfore, and installation had only taken minutes. The Beacon’s Raven curled in the deep red Claudia and Stiles had chosen weeks ago. The window had a beautifully painted raven with its wings outspread on it, front and center, and off to the side, a neat list of their hours. A banner hung over the glass door: “Grand Opening: 2 Days!” It was satisfying to see people passing by, peering in the windows on tip toes to see deeper into the store, chatting about how soon they could go in and poke around.

Stiles headed for the coffee shop down the road. He’d finally talked his mom into opening a real, actual store after years of her (and, eventually, him once he’d gotten old enough to grind herbs and mix potions) operating out of their house. The supernatural community of Beacon Hills had known and trusted Claudia and her family for generations, trusted and knew their magic and quality of products. It only made sense to finally move from backdoor sales to a real shop, where people could browse and where they could store extra potions without accidentally mixing them in with the cooking spices.

Although Stiles still thought John was overreacting about accidentally putting a sleeping potion in the chili that one time.

The coffee shop on the corner, Mocha Latte Memories, was also relatively new—only two years old, which in Beacon Hills meant it’d be referred to as “the new place” for another thirteen years—but it was doing great. It also happened to be Claudia’s favorite, so she’d dragged Stiles there as soon as he’d come home from college; they’d both been going at least once a week ever since.

Stiles caught sight of his reflection in the big bay window of the café and paused. His hair was covered in dust bunnies and cobwebs. “Gee, thanks, Mom,” he grumbled, using the window as a mirror to bat the dust away. He spent a minute combing through his hair with his fingers so he looked less disheveled.

A shadow moved beyond the glass.

Stiles reared back. “Oh! Oh, gods.”

A man on the other side of the glass was grinning at him, apparently watching while he fixed his hair.

Heat rushed to his face. “Oh my god.” He turned on his heel.

Claudia laughed at him when he told her why they wouldn’t be having coffee and why they should promptly move to the next town over. She called John to ask him to bring lunch and coffee while still tearing up with laughter.

Stiles worked through his mortification by sweeping aggressively.

“You two,” John sighed when he arrived. He took a drink of his own coffee while they were digging into their lunch. “The place looks great already.”

Claudia smiled up at him, heels bouncing off the crate she’d perched on in lieu of a chair. “You should’ve seen Stiles with the books.”

“My organization skills are legend,” he muttered, biting into his sandwich.

John snorted. “I still can’t believe you’re putting them out like this.”

She shrugged. “Beacon Hills is our town. We’ve always shared the knowledge anyway, and this way, they can look for themselves.”

The family spellbooks weren’t for sale; they’d dragged them all out and to the shop with a different idea in mind: at the back of the shop, they’d created a little reading room filled with chairs, two-top tables, and jars of pens. Witches and starter spellcasters could come to research spells and potions from their collection if they wanted, copy down instructions, or just read a while, rather than asking Claudia for a copy of a spell they’d heard she had.

And as an extra bonus, whatever they needed for most of the spells, rituals, and potions could be purchased from the shop before they left, if they wanted.

Stiles couldn’t wait to get started.

John stayed to help until well into the evening, when he made them leave for the night. “Your boxes will still be here in the morning,” he sighed. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Claudia set out one last display container, waiting to be filled, and let her fingers trail over the shelf, smiling as John led her out.

Stiles hung back, watching them hold hands down the sidewalk. He and Claudia had come in the jeep this morning, but he figured she’d ride back with John. He brushed dust off his cheek and smiled to himself. He’d missed them while he was away at school, he’d missed Beacon Hills, and being back, opening the store…it felt right.

“Absolutely not.”

Claudia grinned, shaking a box of amethyst at him. “Stiles, don’t be a coward.”

“Mom, don’t be annoying.” He ducked when she swatted at his head. “Why don’t you go get the coffee, and I’ll finish putting the crystals out?”

“I have a plan in mind, I need to do it a certain way.” She arranged the amethyst in the display box she had on the shelf, then tilted her head, studying the effect. She bent to grab some jasper.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You just want me to embarrass myself again.”

“You did that all on your own.” She set down the jasper next to the amethyst, then wrinkled her nose. She faced him, putting her hands on her hips. Her white POISON shirt was smudged with dirt and old paint stains, hair braided back with flyaways sticking up around her face. “What are the odds of seeing that same guy again? And,” she continued before he could reply, “what are the odds that he’d even recognize you? The man saw you for a total of ten seconds, kid.”

He made a face at her. “What if he works there?”

She smiled.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you’re getting the coffee next time.”

“Of course. Next time it’ll be my turn.” She shooed him and turned to the flat carts of planters, which were filling the shop with the heady scents of jasmine and lavender.

Stiles preferred to make potions with dried plants himself, but a lot of people were into growing their own lately. He didn’t stop outside this time—he didn’t want to give himself time to chicken out and go to Starbucks further up the road.

Mocha Latte Memories was right between the breakfast and lunch rushes when he got there; there were three girls at a table posing for a picture and an older man sipping from a mug and reading a book, but otherwise, the place was empty.

The walls were strung with photographs and every other table had an instant camera set up on a bolted tripod next to it. There were also disposable cameras set on the bookshelves, the counters, some tables, the window sills, and the console by the door, with a laminated sign on the wall explaining. The cameras confused Stiles until Claudia had dragged him and John to a table, set the timer on the instant camera, and took a photo of the three of them, waving it in his face.

Patrons were encouraged to take pictures with any of the cameras so they could be displayed on a rotation—they were also just allowed to take the instant photo home, if they wished. After a week on display, the pictures could be claimed by the person who took it or who was in it.

It was cute, Stiles thought. There was potential for creepy people to abuse it, but from what he’d seen, the staff kept a sharp eye on the cameras and who claimed which photos, and the owner was an old high school friend of Claudia’s and had gotten some witchy protections against that kind of thing. Photos taken of people without their consent would show up completely blank, as far as Stiles knew. There were other protections in place, but he hadn’t gotten any further details.

“Hey, Stilinski,” the barista, Cora, called out. “The usual for you and Miss Claudia?”

“Yes please.” He used his card to pay and found two fives in his wallet. Feeling cheerful—one day until opening and they were nearly done setting everything up—he dropped one into the tip jar, making Cora grin.

Behind him, the bells set above the door chimed as someone came in.

He set the five on the counter. “Put that toward their order?”

Her grin widened. “If you’re sure…”

“Yes, please.” He moved off to wait by the pick-up counter, looking at this week’s photos while he waited.

“Hey, thanks for the coffee.”

Stiles winced. He knew Cora was quick, so he’d kind of hoped his drinks would be done before the guy could notice him. He turned. His smile froze on his face.

The guy’s eyes lit up with mirth and recognition.

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed. He looked down and wondered how hard his mom would laugh at him if he filled the place with smoke and fled.

“You do remember me. I’m Derek.”

“Stiles,” he managed, strangled. “I-I—we’re—there was dust,” he blurted. “There was dust and I was trying to get it out of my hair, okay, and I don’t think it was that big of a deal, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, still looking amused. “I didn’t say it was a big deal.”

“Right.” Stiles eased back, even more mortified. “I-I-”

“Stiles! Drinks are up,” Cora called.

“Bye,” he croaked. He snatched the drinks and left as fast as he could.

Claudia was waiting outside when he returned, a worried frown on her face. “I felt you panicking, what-”

He shook his head. “I bought,” he gasped, “the guy coffee.”

Her brows shot up. “Start at the beginning,” she said, so he did.

He was right: she laughed at him.

The Beacon’s Raven opened at nine sharp on Saturday morning, doors flung wide and a mixture of orange and lavender smoking gently, filling the place with Claudia and Stiles’s favorite scents. The shelves were full, neatly organized, and inviting, the floors gleaming clean, and there was a carafe of hot chocolate and individually wrapped cookies set up by the register. Claudia turned on lively violin music and Stiles kept himself busy straightening the shelves.

“Mrs. Stilinski,” a familiar voice called out. “It looks wonderful in here, doesn’t it, Mom?” Lydia and Natalie Martin came in, arm in arm, already holding two other shopping bags.

“It does! Good job, Claudia.” She grinned, crossing to give Claudia a quick squeeze. Like Lydia and Stiles, Natalie and Claudia had gone to school with each other. “I wanted one of those wind chimes you make for Lydia’s new house and we thought we could take a look at the tarot cards—I’ve never been much of a reader myself but we think Lydia’s a bit of a sensitive.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles, but followed their mothers into an aisle anyway.

Two more people, witches Stiles recognized as regulars for dream talismans and ritual potions, came in, chatting about the store. Dotty, dream talisman buyer, spotted Stiles and shot over to commend him on the choice of orange and lavender— “Peace and energy in one, what a good idea for the first day,” she said, catching his arm.

Melissa and Scott showed up after that, then Heather and her boyfriend, and a group of local witches and some shoppers who were non-magical but interested in the local-made jewelry they were also selling.

Stiles kept busy ringing people up, helping a man pick out the right set of rune stones, and bagging things, keeping up a steady chatter about the store, so he shouldn’t have noticed one more person entering the shop. He should’ve heard the bell and called out a greeting and let Claudia handle it. Something made his head snap up. His eyes narrowed.

Coffee Shop Derek waved at him.

A tall, dark haired woman stood next to him, reading from the back of a crumpled receipt.

Stiles blinked back to his customer and smiled. “Thank you, have a great day.”

Mavis smirked at him. “Oh, you too, Mischief.”

He grimaced.

Mavis had been buying ritual herb bundles from Claudia since Stiles was three. She knew too much.

Claudia crossed to Derek and the woman and, to his surprise, hugged the woman. She gave Derek a sober handshake, smiling and saying something Stiles couldn’t hear.

He didn’t really recognize them aside from some vague familiarity, but Claudia clearly did. He glanced around, but everyone was busy looking—they were crowded, which wasn’t surprising. Beacon Hills was small enough that everyone and their grandmother had heard that little Dee Gajos, no, Stilinski now, and her son were opening a shop finally, and they all had to check it out, witches or not.

Stiles flicked his fingers.

“-Mom wanted some new talismans for the house, and Aunt Nettie wanted some cleansing potions for the party we’re having,” the woman was saying. “Mom also wanted us to congratulate you and let you know she’ll be out to see the shop as soon as she can.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet. I know she’s busy. Oh, one moment.” Claudia turned. “Stiles!” Her voice boomed, making him clap his hands to his ears.

Crap. He’d definitely been caught eavesdropping.

Her smile was far too wide. “Sweetie, why don’t you help the Hales find the things on their list while I run the register for a while?” Her voice was still too loud—raised so he could hear her across the store, if he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

He had two options, and only one of them would preserve what little dignity he had left at this point. He sighed and rounded the counter.

“Hey, I’m Laura.” She smiled when he approached. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Stiles.”

“Oh, really?” He narrowed his eyes at Derek, cheeks going red. Two mildly embarrassing run ins and the guy goes blabbing to his family.

“Yeah! You’ve met my mom Talia Hale a few times when she was picking up talismans from Claudia.”

Stiles’s gaze snapped up to Laura, then skimmed over her. “Oh, you’re werewolves. And Hales. I’ve met some of your pack.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s us.” She passed the list to Derek. “I actually wanted to talk to you about some blessed candles, Claudia, if that’s alright? I’m sure Stiles and Derek can handle the list.”

“Oh, sure. Here, we can go up to the register and talk.” Claudia smirked over her shoulder.

Stiles turned his back on her. “So.”

Derek lifted a brow. “You aren’t going to run away this time?”

“I’ve got nowhere to run,” he muttered, making Derek laugh. “Besides, I didn’t run. I just—I had things to do.” He cleared his throat. “Your mom buys talismans from my mom. I’ve helped make them before,” he added with a grin, deciding that he could push past his embarrassment. “She likes her bases covered, huh?”

Derek chuckled. “You have no idea. She’s going crazy over having the whole family at the house for our winter gathering. That’s why she wants to replace the talismans now.” He checked the list. “Four talismans, a house cleansing potion for Aunt Nettie,” he yawned widely, “new bells for the windows and,” another half-stifled yawn, “my uncle wants bloodroot.” He made a face.

“For what?”

He lifted that brow again.

Stiles flicked a hand at the shelves behind them. “I just mean if he’s making something for protection, we can make a bundle that’ll help more than just one plant.”

He shook his head. “No idea. He just came in and scribbled down bloodroot when we told everyone where we were going.”

“Ah.” Stiles shrugged. Not his problem. “Well, if they’re all concerned about the house, we can get some herbs to help with that, too.” He glanced at Claudia, but she and Laura were still talking. “The talismans take three days to make—they’re specific, so we don’t typically have them ready-made.”

“Oh.”

“Everything else is ready though.” He led Derek down the prepared potions aisle; already-made potions were popular with werewolves, shifters, and regular humans who couldn’t make potions themselves. He handed him the teal-colored cleansing potion. “There’s a tag with instructions on the cap, but I know Annette Hale buys this every few months.”

“She does.” Derek yawned again as they made their way to the herb aisle, stifling it in his elbow and shaking his head, like he was annoyed.

Stiles scooped bloodroot into a bag, avoiding eye contact. “Did you have a…long night?” he asked, and cursed himself for being so awkward.

Derek shook his head. “I just keep having these weird, vivid dreams, and when I wake up, I feel like I haven’t slept. And then I can’t make sense of the dreams.” He shrugged self-consciously.

“Have you tried-?” Stiles paused and frowned at him. “Sleep potions don’t work for werewolves.”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” Stiles touched some vervain thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No. What about an herb bundle?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never tried any of this stuff,” he admitted. “I don’t usually have trouble sleeping, either.”

Stiles dropped his hand and wandered over to the bells. “Maybe you should put a bell on your bedroom window instead.” He examined the smallest bells they had on display and picked out a silver one with a raven carved into the side; some of the bells had symbols or animals carved in them for extra protection, and others had nothing, a blank slate, but Stiles thought Derek could use the raven for some clarity. He held it out with a smile. “If anything is causing bad dreams, the sound will ward it off, and it should help make the dreams clearer so you can figure out what’s going on.”

Derek held the tiny bell in his palm. “Thanks.”

Stiles nodded, then looked back at the others. They had sets and singles. “Did Talia say what colors she wanted?”

“Oh, uh, no. Just some basic, uh, bells for us to string above the windows this winter.”

“Hmm.” Stiles chose a brassy gold set and a few tiny yellow gold chimes, and added a coil of delicate, triple braided twine. “Your mom will know how to string them.” He helped Derek carry everything to the register. “We’ll get the talismans started today.”

Claudia smiled as they set everything on the counter. She was wrapping up a full set of candles for Laura already. “One of you can come back to get them on Tuesday,” she assured them. “Oh, bloodroot alone? But-”

“Uncle Peter only asked for bloodroot.” Laura shrugged. “Nettie tried to get him to explain but he wouldn’t.”

“Huh.” She shook her head. “Maybe he’s got something in mind.” She rang them up while Stiles carefully bagged the rest of their purchases.

“Maybe.” Laura poked at the silver bell.

Derek snatched it and put it in his pocket. “That’s mine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh-kay. Thanks again, Claudia. We’ll be back on Tuesday for the talismans.”

“No problem, thank you guys for coming in!”

Derek turned back so he could wave and smile at Stiles one more time as they were leaving.

By the time they closed at seven, Stiles was dead on his feet; the plan was for them to open again the next morning at the same time, and be closed on Mondays and Thursdays, but he wasn’t sure they’d make it to Monday at this point. They needed to hire some more people.

Claudia was sprawled in a chair in the reading room, beaming and as exhausted as Stiles. “That was…better than I had hoped for.”

Stiles flopped into a chair across from her. “I told you people would come.”

She shrugged. “It’s different, selling little mixtures and plants from my kitchen and selling it in a store.” She flung her hands out over the arms of the chair. “I expected…well, you know how people here can be.”

“Assholes.”

“Fickle,” she shot back. “Supportive one second, and then the next saying I’m thinking too highly of my skills.”

He snorted. “I would love to see anyone from Beacon Hills claim that. They know you, Mom.”

She smiled. “They can be assholes, a little bit,” she admitted, and he laughed. “I was thinking of hiring some part timers, to cover us when we need breaks and a day off. Thoughts?”

“Yes, please.” He dropped his head over the back of the chair. “If we have more people here, we can close a little later, stay open most days without working everyone twenty-four seven, and be able to help more people. Also, we have to get the Hale talismans going.”

“Right.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of the chair. “What did Derek Hale need one bell for?”

Stiles lifted his head. “Hmm?”

She shot him a look. “Don’t play dumb. One silver bell.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Well, he kept yawning while we were finding the stuff his pack asked for, so I asked him if he was having trouble sleeping. He said he was having vivid dreams that were keeping him from resting, so I thought a bell would help, you know, in case it was something coming in.”

She frowned. “But they’re not nightmares?”

“Apparently not. Just vivid dreams.”

“That’s odd.”

“Maybe the bell will help.”

She nodded. “Okay! Let’s go straighten up, count the till, and get started on the talismans for the Hales.”

Because they’d known they would be brewing potions on-site, they’d picked this building in part because it had a kitchen already, so they wouldn’t have to have one built.

“We really need more people working here.” Stiles rocked to his feet.

“I’m working on it. Natalie Martin was interested already, but I’d like a few more witches on staff, too.”

“Dad can help out.”

She smiled as they headed for the kitchen. “He’s bored now that he’s retired.”

“He needs a hobby.”

“Please.” She handed him a broom. “Sprinkle some orange and violet ashes for luck first.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

It wasn’t quite as busy the next day, although they were making an almost equal amount of sales—fewer browsers, Stiles guessed. Around noon, Claudia left him alone to get some coffee and lunch, which was when Derek wandered in. Stiles straightened from the counter and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he replied uneasily. “Um, your talismans are still soaking in the first potion.”

Derek looked blank. “Oh, no, that’s not why I’m here, but thanks. I actually—the bell didn’t help,” he blurted.

Stiles frowned.

The woman over in the reading room sneezed, making Derek jump.

“Alright…let’s try an herb bundle.” Stiles rounded the counter. “Something to promote deep sleep, good dreams, some peace….that could help.”

Derek followed him. “I’m willing to try, I’m exhausted and the dreams don’t even make sense.”

“Hmm.” Stiles picked up a mesh sachet and skimmed through the dry herbs, letting his magic pick for him. He sprinkled in lavender, which was an obvious first, a tiny bit of valerian followed by peppermint mostly to disguise the foul scent of the ashes, chamomile, a tiny bit of eryngo, and some gardenia to tie it together, then sealed the bag. “Okay, there’s enough in here for you to sprinkle a tiny bit around your room, and keep the rest in this bag under your pillow while you sleep.” He put the sachet in Derek’s hand.

“You didn’t look at a recipe,” he pointed out.

Stiles frowned, plucking at the hem of his shirt. “Well, I don’t need one for that. I was just…feeling out what seemed right for you.”

“Do you do that for all of your customers?” he asked, smirking. His hair was damp from the chilly rain turning everything gray outside, curling over his forehead.

Stiles focused on a drop forming just above his eye. “No, not really. But none of them have asked,” he added defensively. He crossed his arms. “I was trying-”

“Excuse me. How much is this journal, young man?”

Stiles held his finger up at Derek and went to help the guy in a patchy tweed jacket with the journals. To his surprise, Derek was still waiting when the guy had paid and left. “Yes?”

He lifted the sachet. “I haven’t paid.”

Stiles blinked. “Oh, I—I was giving that to you.” They stood, blinking at each other for a prolonged moment.

Slowly, Derek’s cheeks reddened. His eyes went wide. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Thank—you?”

“No problem.” He smiled. “Did you ever figure out what your uncle wanted the bloodroot for?”

He shook his head. “He just took it and left, didn’t even thank us. He’s been annoyed all day, too, which for Peter means he’s been insufferable.” He turned the sachet over in his hand, then lifted it closer to his face to sniff.

Stiles glanced around the store, but the only person there was the witch in the reading room still. “We have some cookies left from yesterday, want some?”

“Sure.”

Stiles went to get them from the kitchen and poked at the talismans that were gently simmering in a warding potion. The first of three; the next would be applied later that evening. He scooped up the cookies.

Claudia had returned when he got out to the front, asking Derek how his parents were. “The cookies are still good,” she added with a quick smile in Stiles’s direction. “Why don’t you two eat in the kitchen while I watch the store? I can eat after you’re done.” She smiled again. “I got an extra sandwich.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

She winked at him and looked at Derek again. “You have time, don’t you, Derek?”

“I…uh, sure.”

“Great!” She thrust the sandwiches at Stiles. “Derek, I hope you like roast beef on rye with mozzarella and onions?”

Derek looked between her and Stiles. “Yes…that’s…my favorite.”

“How lucky,” she chirped.

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, “lucky.” He glanced at Derek, who looked surprised but not suspicious.

He clearly hadn’t spent enough time around witches.

Stiles took the sandwiches to the kitchen anyway. “You don’t have to stay,” he told Derek. “She’s just…” He didn’t know what she was doing. Teasing him for his two embarrassing encounters with Derek? Being overly friendly? Trying to help Stiles make friends like a shy five year old?

“It’s okay. I was just going to get lunch when I left anyway.” Derek looked around the kitchen, the glass front cabinets and the crockpot simmering on the counter. “I guess customers aren’t really meant to be back here.”

Stiles shrugged and set the sandwiches on the table. He grabbed some napkins, gesturing at the seat closest to Derek. “It’s only our second day open, we don’t have rules yet.”

Derek tucked the sachet into his pocket before he sat and unwrapped his sandwich. “You guys have been selling potions and talismans and stuff for a while though, right?”

“Yep.” Stiles licked mustard off his thumb. “Mom’s been doing it her whole life—before she and my dad got married, she and her parents sold supplies and stuff from their kitchen.” He rotated his wrist. “Beacon Hills is getting bigger and it was getting harder to run all this from our kitchen without overrunning the whole house with it.” Stiles took a minute to eat a few bites, watching with his head lowered as Derek did the same. “Your mom and your brother Sean, your dad Leo and your cousin, I think, Connie, I’ve met them all in passing. Annette, too. Amulets, talismans, potions, herbs, crystals—Connie bought a crystal when she was doing her midterms, more for a worry stone than anything, I think.”

“She still has it,” Derek said with a smile. “She wears it on a chain.”

Stiles smiled, too. “See, I’ve met several of your family members—your pack mates. But you’ve never come for anything.”

Derek shrugged. “Everyone else always had plenty and I never really needed anything.”

“Until now.” Stiles nodded at him, indicating the sachet in his pocket.

Derek flashed a grin. “Until now.”

After Derek left, thanking them for lunch and smiling at Stiles an extra time before he left, Claudia whirled on Stiles, beaming.

“What are you up to?”

“Absolutely nothing, how dare you accuse me of being up to something.” She wiped the counter with a damp rag, a smile playing on her lips.

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was accusing her of quite yet, so he fell quiet. He’d bide his time and get her back later. Three giggling high schoolers came in to ask about love potions and, having already been subjected to the Love Potion Lecture at age seven, and then twelve, Stiles made himself busy straightening the shelves and checking the plants for dry soil.

Claudia went into the back to eat after the girls left, so Stiles was left to deal with Mrs. Howard’s very particular taste in rose quartz for her daughter’s birthday. It wasn’t so bad, not nearly as bad as the PTA parents wanting “luck” potions for a bake sale.

John wandered in when things died down, while Stiles was drawing mindlessly on a legal pad. He leaned over. “Anything good?”

Stiles studied the shape. “Not sure yet.” He added another line. “I think it might need…copper. Amethyst.” He tilted the pad. “Some spirit quartz for an added layer, maybe, to clear things up.” He rubbed his finger over the top curve thoughtfully.

“Who’s it for?”

“Dunno. It just keeps coming to me.” He finally looked up and grinned. “What’re you all dressed up for? I thought you were strictly into jeans these days.”

John ran a hand down the neat button down shirt that he’d paired with a completely wrinkle-free pair of khakis. “I’m here for a job interview,” he said grimly. “Think I got a chance with the boss?”

Stiles grinned. “I dunno, she’s pretty strict.”

Claudia came out of the back wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes widened. “Well, now, Sheriff, don’t you look handsome.”

Stiles, still grinning, shook his head and hopped off the stool behind the counter to hunt up some of the materials he needed for the amulet he was going to make. Chips of amethyst and flint were his first ingredients, and the rest, he figured, would come to him as needed. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just copper wrapped around three very small stones in the shape he couldn’t get out of his head.

He rang himself up after he’d gathered a few more things, then put his supplies aside—his tools and the other things he needed were at home.

“What’re you making?” Claudia asked after watching him tuck his bagged purchases away.

“An amulet, I think.”

“Hmm.”

John was across the shop enthusiastically helping a witch select a chain for her new pendulum.

She looked amused despite the fact that John clearly had no idea what to direct her toward.

“He always was better with herbs,” Claudia mused. “I can’t believe he hasn’t picked up more from us after all these years.”

“Maybe he should just run the register.”

“He’s got it.”

Stiles shrugged and went back to his rough sketch, tracing the spirals with his finger.

He spent the evening coiling copper wire at the kitchen table, carefully wrapping it around the smallest piece of pearl dolomite he’d been able to find, then spirit quartz, and finally a tiny piece of flint. The amethyst chips went along the wire, and after that he sprinkled gardenia and lavender ash on it to sit for the night. He studied it; it wasn’t his best work, but not his worst, either. The amulet would need to be charged with his magic to bind it together, and he’d need a chain for it before it could be worn. The amulet itself was small, about the size of a silver dollar.

He left it overnight and took it to the shop the next morning. Stiles and John were handling the front while Claudia retreated, with a miserable growl, to do the accounting.

Her day job, after all, used to be the head of an accounting firm, and she had the most experience. Besides that, she wasn’t ready to hire someone else to take care of it.

“I’m still not sure, this one over here is really beautiful.” The customer indicated a hand painted tarot deck made by a local witch Claudia had grown up with.

“If you’re just starting, a basic deck is the best way to learn how to read the cards.” He smiled. “You can get fancy later, I promise.”

“Well…I suppose you’re right.” She sighed. “My mom said the same thing, and I definitely knew that was the right way to do it, but the hand painted deck is so…” She picked up the deck Stiles had pointed out to her. “Do you guys carry altar cloths? I would like to get a new one.”

Stiles grinned. “We do, actually. Dominic Birch embroidered them, his work is unbelievable.”

After she’d paid and left—with two new journals, an altar cloth, and her tarot deck—John helped a guy pick out a potted aloe plant and Stiles sold three necklaces and a ring.

The bells chimed as he was restocking with more jewelry. “Hi,” he called out, turning.

Derek waved awkwardly and held up a piece of paper. “Peter wants some more stuff.”

“Ah. Did he say what it was for this time?”

“Nope. He’s just as irritated today, too.” He passed the list to Stiles, thumb brushing the back of his hand. He was wearing a blue sweater in concession to the chill hanging in the air, and the fact that the sleeves were just a little too long for him was too much for Stiles. “Oh, hey, I think those herbs you gave me worked, last night I barely had any dreams at all.”

Stiles smiled at him. “That’s great.” He flipped the list over. Buchu, rose, dandelion—dried and ground. Huh. “Did he say how much of this stuff he wants?”

Derek shook his head. “But he did send his debit card, so feel free to ring up as much as you’d like.”

Stiles snickered. “I’d love to, but I think we should try to keep our reputation good, you know, since we’re so new and all.”

Derek snorted. “If he noticed, I doubt he’d say anything anyway. There’s so much going on at home, though, I don’t think he would notice.”

Stiles bagged the herbs as they talked. “What’s going on?”

“Just the usual holiday madness. For our winter celebration, our extended pack—that’s everyone who’s moved away and joined or formed other packs—comes to visit. All three houses are overrun for days.”

Stiles laughed as he tipped a scoop of dried dandelion into a bag. “That sounds awesome.”

“I guess it is, sometimes. That’s why everyone is freaking out, though. It takes a lot to prepare for all those werewolves.” He rubbed the back of his head, sighing. “I’m gonna have to share my room with a couple of my cousins.”

“Aw, didn’t you miss your cousins?”

“No.” He scowled, then sighed. “Yeah, a little bit. There’s just a lot of them—we all end up completely sleep deprived by the end.” He took the bags Stiles held out. “But it is fun. You guys should stop by. The festivities start on the twentieth.”

“You make it sound like a carnival,” Stiles laughed as he walked him to the counter.

“More like a circus,” he muttered. “But I swear it’s fun, and there’s enough food to feed at least three armies.”

“Won’t your family mind if we crash a family gathering?”

“No, I’m pretty sure my mom invites Claudia every year, only she always had plans.”

“Yeah, we usually do year end rituals and stuff, but I can probably, uh, stop by. If you wanted.” He studiously avoided the way John was looking at him while he rang up Derek’s purchases.

Derek beamed at him. “That’d be great.”

Stiles smiled. In his pocket, the amulet grew warm, then hot. His hand jumped to it, closing around the wire, and his eyes widened. “Should—should I bring…anything?”

“Just yourself. Maybe some earplugs. Aunt Nettie’s sister-in-law just had triplets.” Derek grinned at John. “Sheriff, you and Mrs. Stilinski are more than welcome, too. My mom will probably be calling sometime tomorrow or the next day to invite you herself.”

John smiled. “Maybe we’ll stop by this year.” His gaze inched over to Stiles and his smile stretched into a grin. “Just to make sure Stiles stays out of trouble.”

“Very funny,” Stiles muttered. “I’m an angel.”

“Lying is a sin, angel.”

Stiles, unable to flip him off, stuck his tongue out, and got a pitying look in response. He remembered Derek a second later and flushed, whipping around so his back was to John. “Uh, uh—let me know how—if the weird dreams come back,” he stammered. “We can try something else.” He cast around for something else to say as they inched away from the counter and noticed Derek’s bag. “Your uncle isn’t…trying to see the future, is he?”

“No idea.” Derek peered into the bag. “Why, is that what this stuff is for?”

Stiles tilted his hand side to side. “They can be used for a few different things, but yeah, divination and visions are some of the more popular things.” He shook his head. “Not that it matters, it’s not a big deal. Plenty of people use herbs for prophetic visions,” he assured him. “Us, we prefer crystals if we’re trying to see something.”

“Do you look into the future often?”

Stiles shook his head and met Derek’s gaze. “I prefer to be surprised. The future can change, so what’s the point in worrying about one vision you saw once, by chance, that might not even happen?”

Derek’s lips quirked. “Speaking from experience?”

He glanced back at his dad automatically; Claudia had joined him at the counter, their heads tipped together as they spoke. “Yeah, I peeked and I didn’t…” He shook his head again. “Doesn’t matter, it’s already changed.” He smiled at Derek.

“What kind of magic do you use, if you don’t try to see the future?”

He lifted his shoulders. “All kinds, I guess.”

“What are you good at?”

He laughed. “You want me to brag about my skills?” He waggled his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Stiles laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Well, I’m pretty good with water-based magic, and my telekinetic prowess is, if I do say so myself, pretty awesome.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration sometime.”

Stiles nodded and lifted his hand, palm up. Water formed on his fingers and slid down, gathering into a ball. He flexed his fingers. It froze solid.

“Okay, that was impressive.”

“A Stilinski, flirting by showing off, why am I not surprised.” Mavis’s voice made Stiles jump, the ice ball flying out of his grasp. “How utterly predictable.”

Derek snatched the ball before it could hit the ground and shatter.

“Mischief, you are just like your mother, I swear. You can do better than that to impress the man. Claudia,” she called in her croaking voice, “did you see what Mischief was doing?” She shuffled away from them.

Stiles covered his eyes. “Good gods.”

Derek mouthed, “Mischief?” but dropped it when Stiles shook his head. “Well, I thought it was impressive.” He held out the ice.

Stiles closed his hands over it. “There’s no reason to do big spells indoors, Mavis.”

“Balls of ice aren’t impressive, Mischief.”

He rolled his eyes at Derek. “I’ll see you later, I have to go chase an old lady with a broom.”

He laughed. “Good luck.”

Stiles finished the amulet on his break, holding his hand over it and binding the ingredients together, all the pieces, the copper, the flint, the quartz, the dolomite and amethyst, with his magic. He found a black chain he thought went well with the copper triskelion and attached it, then stared at the completed piece. It’d come to him for a reason, amulets usually did, but he just couldn’t figure out who it was meant for.

Claudia put the Hales talismans in the last potion while he was still staring at it. “Looks good. What made you use a triskelion?”

“I’m not sure, it just…came to me.” He shrugged. While Claudia had always had an instinct for talismans, Stiles had the same instinct for amulets, the shapes and materials often coming to him and hovering in his mind, behind his eyes, like he’d stared at a light too long. She’d found him making them enough throughout his life to know he hadn’t made it for himself.

“Have you figured out who it’s for?”

Her tone made him look up, eyes narrowed. “No…why?”

She poked at the talismans, then covered them again. “Well, the triskelion is the Hale pack’s symbol. They use it to identify their pack.”

Stiles looked at the amulet. “Huh.”

“Maybe you made it for Derek,” she teased.

“Mother, are you implying something?”

“Just that he keeps coming here…daily…and that he invited you to his family gathering.” She shrugged. She had an ivy leaf caught in her hair from that morning.

“He’s just being friendly.”

She snorted. “Laura, maybe, Nettie absolutely, but from what I’ve noticed, friendly is an optional trait in the Hales and they don’t bother unless they think you’re worth it.” She held her hands up. “Could be he just likes you as a friend, that’s true.” Her eyes gleamed. “But I say you take that amulet over on the twentieth and see if he says no when you ask him out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“If he turns you down, I will admit I was wrong, somehow.”

“Not good enough.”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “If I’m wrong, what would you like?”

“Grandpa’s book of charms.”

“Oh, Stiles.” She shook her head. “They’re messy.”

“Blood?”

She held her fingers a half inch apart. “But it’s more in the mud and clay and wet ashes way. Trust me. Messy.”

“I want them.”

She put her hands up. “Fine, since I’m sure I’m right, if Derek shoots you down, I will dig out your grandfather’s book of charms. Only if I’m wrong. If he accepts, you do Laura Hale’s interview. She wants to work here,” she added with a smile.

“That’s absolutely not on the same level.”

“Those are my conditions.”

“Ugh, fine. Are you and Dad going?”

She smoothed the wrinkles out of her black and pink dress, smiling serenely at him. “We have to be there, dear, it’s only polite.” She turned on her heel, ponytail swishing as she left.

“You’ve got ivy in your hair!” he shouted after her. He looked down at the amulet. “Damn it.” He needed to find a box for it now.

The twentieth arrived before Stiles was fully prepared. They’d been busy with people coming for ritual kits, herbs, potions, and gifts, enough that they could consider their first two weeks of being open a resounding success. Stiles found a decorative cherry wood box with a small raven carved into the side to put the amulet in, on a bed of gardenia and lavender, and dressed casually for the party.

Cora at Mocha Latte Memories turned out to be another Hale that Stiles hadn’t met and had told him to just show up whenever. “The dress code?” she’d repeated blankly when he’d asked. “Uh…casual. We’re a mess, don’t worry about it. Some of the littler kids probably won’t even be dressed.” She’d shrugged. “Shifters, you know.”

So Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect as he headed to the Hale property. It used to be just one house, but they’d added two more to accommodate their growing pack. Stiles hadn’t seen it in a while—not since he was a teenager, wandering the preserve at night with Scott and Heather, being stupid—so the sight of about twenty extra cars and a camper clogging the long driveway and part of the yard, plus about six people on the wrap around porch just chatting, was something of a surprise.

Stiles parked behind a blue SUV and turned the jeep off deliberately slow. He stared at the little box on his passenger seat and sighed.

John and Claudia had come over earlier, just after noon, but Stiles had managed to procrastinate so long that he now had to arrive alone. Maybe he could just sit here until he spotted Derek and act like he’d just arrived.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

‘Coming in at any point, son?’

Stiles scowled. He figured blocking her wouldn’t work, so he just shoved it back in his pocket, swiped the box, and got out. He had to weave through several cars to get to the yard, where he could see a flattened path from everyone walking the same route.

Behind him, someone shouted, “Quit it!”

He turned.

Fifteen feet away, Derek got tackled by a tall, skinny werewolf with short dark hair.

Stiles tensed, but it wasn’t until another werewolf, shorter, partially shifted and snarling through long fangs, joined in that he started running. “Hey!”

Derek snarled and rolled, but the shifted werewolf bit his ear, making him yelp, while the other sat on his legs to pin him down.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted again. He stopped before any of those flailing claws or fangs could hit him and studied the ball of werewolves.

Someone up on the porch noticed them and snickered.

Stiles flinched when blood spattered the grass, a yelp coming from the bottom of the pile. He rolled his eyes and put his free hand out, then swept it aside.

The taller werewolf tumbled aside, landing on his butt a couple feet away.

Stiles caught the other one and flicked him away, too, leaving Derek disheveled and a little bloody. Stiles turned to the two that’d tackled him and shook his head. “Two on one is shameful,” he scolded. He could see now that they were teenagers; their partial shifts had made them look older, but as the fangs and tufted ears melted away, they looked young.

The taller one looked petulant while the other simply looked mortified.

“He drank our hot chocolate!” the tall one snapped.

“Uh—what?”

Derek sat up. “You can’t prove that.” Blood trailed down his cheek, but the cut had, thankfully, already healed.

“It’s always you,” the embarrassed one piped up. “Uncle Peter says you keep stealing his coffee, too.”

Derek’s ears went red. “He’s exaggerating.” He looked up at Stiles sheepishly. “I always refill the cups after. I’m just useless in the morning.”

“You’re always useless.”

“Markus,” a man on the porch snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry.” He looked at Stiles. “How’d you do that?”

“He’s a witch, dummy.”

“Todd,” the man scolded.

Todd held his hands up. “But he is.” He squinted at Stiles. “Right?”

“Right.”

Todd smirked at Marcus.

Stiles held his hand out to help Derek up. “Brawling with teenagers?”

“They hit me first.” He smiled. “I thought you’d decided not to come when your parents showed up without you.”

Stiles shook his head. “Just running behind.”

Derek nodded, fighting a huge yawn that nearly wrenched his jaw apart.

He lifted his brows. “Dreams again?”

He nodded. “They came back a couple days ago.” He looked toward the house, ears going red. “You were in them this time, even though they still don’t make sense.”

Todd rolled his eyes and pulled Markus to his feet. “Stop stealing everyone’s drinks!”

“I thought it was Peter’s coffee,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to steal your hot chocolate.”

Markus rolled his eyes. “Make your own coffee, jeeze, Uncle Peter’s right. You are nose blind.”

“I am not!”

Stiles prodded Derek’s shoulder. “Excuse me, did you just say you’ve been drinking your uncle’s coffee?”

Todd nodded, aggrieved. “Derek steals everyone’s drinks, every year.”

He looked guilty. “Only when it’s really early, and I always refill the mug, brats.” That last bit was directed at his cousins, who were clearly unconvinced.

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“You can sleep in Cora’s room tonight,” Derek hissed.

Stiles shared an exasperated look with Todd, though he was sure Todd was more bothered by the hot chocolate theft than he was. He had a bigger problem. “Derek.”

“Yeah.”

He tried to think of a nice way to phrase it, but… “Are you, possibly, nose blind?”

Todd and Markus cackled.

Derek looked insulted. “No!”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uncle Peter is the uncle who’s been sending you to get potion ingredients from my shop, right?”

“Yea—ah, fuck.”

Markus’s mouth opened in a wide, wide grin. “I’m telling Aunt Talia.”

Todd’s hand shot out, catching his shirt. “Derek can buy our silence.”

Markus’s eyes went even brighter, delighted.

He glared at them. “What do you want?”

“Take us to the potion place.”

“Excuse me?”

“We never get to go to witch stores, we want to buy magic potions.” The boys looked excited by the mere idea, breathless at the power that was just in their reach.

Stiles leaned around Derek. “If you go find Miss Claudia in the house, she’ll tell you all about magic potions. That way when Derek takes you, you know which one to pick.”

They looked at each other, smirking, then ran for the house.

He straightened up. “That lecture should keep them busy for at least twenty minutes.” He swung back around to Derek. “You’ve been drinking coffee laced with potions.”

“Apparently.”

“Potions for prophetic dreams.”

“Yep.”

“Then refilling the cup before anyone noticed the coffee was gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which means your uncle has been drinking regular coffee thinking it was laced with potions, and probably getting annoyed that it’s not working—stop laughing!” But Stiles was laughing, too. “This is serious, you could’ve poisoned yourself.”

He shook his head as he wheezed. “Peter’s been so pissed lately, and it turns out it’s because his experiments aren’t working—because I’ve been drinking them.” He shook his head, overcome.

“Didn’t he—no, you said he didn’t tell you guys what it was for.” Stiles rolled his eyes. The cold was starting to seep under his jacket finally, chilling him.

“No, he didn’t. Serves him right for not telling us what he was making us run errands for.”

Stiles lifted a brow at him.

“Hey, I got my payback by losing sleep.”

“Somehow that doesn’t seem to compare.” Stiles looked at the box in his hand and sighed. “When was the last time you drank his coffee?”

“Yesterday morning,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. They were barely an arms’ length apart, over the muddy disturbed grass where he’d been wrestling with his cousins. He scratched drying blood off his temple.

“You’ve probably got another couple nights before the dreams wear off.”

He nodded. “Hey, I’m—I’m glad you came over.” He smiled shyly.

Stiles smiled back. “Me too. Now I know why none of my usual tricks worked for your weird dreams.” He tapped his finger on the box. “You don’t remember any of them?”

“Nothing that makes sense.” He shrugged.

Too bad. He shook it off and held the box out. “I brought this for you.”

“Thank you.” He took it carefully, tilting it so he could see the carving on the side. He traced it gently with one fingertip. “You guys are fond of ravens, I guess.”

“They’re a thing with my mom’s family. And they’re good friends.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to wait ’til sundown to open it, you know.”

Derek made a show of examining every inch of the box before he pried it open. His lashes fluttered. “You made this.” Not a question, no surprise. A fact.

“How’d you guess?”

He lifted his gaze. “I can feel it. You weren’t kidding about your magic being powerful. Can I wear it now?”

“Of course, I made it for you to wear.” Stiles had to look away, his neck prickling. He normally didn’t make a big deal of his amulets and the receivers of them typically followed his lead. He didn’t know what to do with such gravity. When he looked up, Derek was wearing the amulet around his neck, the triskelion resting just beneath his collar bones.

“How’s it look?”

Stiles nodded. “Pretty good,” he squeaked. He looked over his shoulder, but everyone who’d been on the porch was gone. He took a deep breath. “Well, now that I’ve given you fancy jewelry…”

“A protective amulet,” Derek corrected, cupping his hand over it as if he was shielding it.

“Right. I was—I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out on a date. Maybe get coffee from somewhere your sister doesn’t work.” He caught his breath and reminded himself that either way this went, he would get something he wanted.

He just, maybe, wanted to date Derek more than he wanted that book of charms.

Derek smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.” He lifted his gaze and winced. “But, uh, first we have to survive this.” He pointed.

Claudia and Talia were watching from the door, both grinning, while noses pressed against nearly every window around them.

“We could make a run for it,” Stiles said out of the corner of his mouth. “I think I can hold the door closed from here and we can make it to the jeep.”

“You can’t run from every problem.”

“I am fast enough to out run most of them,” he pointed out.

Derek caught his hand, twined their fingers together, and tugged him up toward the house. “There’s not that many of them in this house—most of them are out in the backyard.”

“Your mom is in there,” he whined.

Claudia winked.

“My mom is in there,” he added under his breath.

They laughed together and moved out of the doorway, linking arms and heading toward the kitchen, by the looks of it.

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand. “Because you didn’t shoot me down, I have to give your sister a job interview.”

“If you can survive this, interviewing Laura will be nothing.” Derek kissed the back of his hand, making him flush all over, before he went into the house.

“Derek!” a man growled, followed by a yelp and a thud.

Stiles shook his head and went inside to save him from Peter’s wrath.

[abused-sides]

Looking [Roommates AU]

Trigger warning: This au follows most of the sides in the aftermath of surviving abuse (domestic, parental, etc). In this particular fic it’s only implied, but it’s an instrumental part of the story and if that bothers you, then please not only scroll past this fic, but block my blog as well.

More tws: Homelessness, homeless shelters, sleeping outside, paranoia, house-bound, anxiety/overwhelmed, malnourishment, let me know if i missed anything 

Genre: ??? Virgil escapes and Patton interviews him to move in 

Ships: Endgame romantic intruloceit, romantic prinxiety, queerplatonic royality

Wc: 2541 

A/N: I promise I’m getting to your prompts I love you guys

Virgil laid flat on his back, eyes fixed on the familiar water stain on the ceiling. 

It’d been there since he moved in, three years ago. He hadn’t noticed it right away, instead focused on exploring all the rooms, thrilled about all the space he would have. He wished the house was smaller— Wished they lived in an apartment. He certainly would have more free time. 

There were four spots in the house Virgil hid the money, and he never visited the same one too often. One was tucked inside an empty spray bottle with all of his cleaning stuff, under the kitchen sink. One was slipped between the bedspring and the mattress, on Virgil’s side. He’d never felt a lump or anything, but he was terrified his boyfriend would somehow feel it in his sleep and find the stash. 

Another was hidden in a plant pot under Virgil’s favourite window, buried under the dirt in a plastic bag. The last was tucked into Virgil’s wallet, which he hadn’t touched in three years. No need for a wallet when you don’t leave the house, and your boyfriend pays for everything with his card. 

His boyfriend had been gone for hours. He’d be gone for several more. Virgil wasn’t sure why he hadn’t left yet, why he did his daily chores and then just laid there, hoping the water stain would grow and spread and swallow the entire house. 

He wouldn’t get another chance like this. Not for years, probably. It was the exact opportunity he’d been waiting for. 

So why couldn’t he do it?

He squeezed his eyes shut as they welled with tears. He imagined his boyfriend getting home with his gifts and false compassion, imagined having to spend another several years as his property, with his dull life of cleaning and not much else. 

He pushed himself off the ground and headed for the window that looked out the front yard. He dug under the daisy growing in the pot, spilling dirt all over the immaculate carpet, ripping up its roots and petals, and grabbed the first stash. 

Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He flew through the house to grab all the money and put his backpack together, and then skidded to a stop in front of the door. He swallowed. He was going to throw up. 

He reached blindly for the coatrack, his fingers wrapping around the soft fabric of his boyfriend’s hoodie. He pulled it on and threw the door open. He didn’t think to close it as he stepped out onto the drive, almost disassociating. All he’d felt under his feet for three years was carpet and tile and hardwood. He hopped off the driveway into the grass, and then the sidewalk, and then the road. 

He took in a shuddering breath, pulled his hood up, and ducked his head as he headed for the nearest train station. 

The ticket stole most of his money, but it didn’t matter. As long as he got to the city, he would be fine. He could figure it all out from there. 

He sat alone on the train, wanting desperately to sleep but instead sitting straight up, never resting from his constant patrol. A lady sitting across from him at one point offered to buy him something to eat, but he refused. 

The train stopped in the city’s station close to midnight. Despite him saying he didn’t need any help, the lady guided his shaky self down the steps, and patted his back. 

“Where are you headed?” 

Virgil swallowed. “Um…”

“Do you… Have family in the city?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know where his parents were. 

“Here, let me see your arm.” 

Virgil was hesitant, but carefully rolled his sleeve up. The cool tip of her Sharpie scribbled over his pale skin for a moment, and when she finished, she’d mapped out the directions to a few homeless shelters. 

“They should be able to help you if you don’t have anyone else,” she said. “They can feed you, too. You should eat.”

Virgil’s face turned red. “Okay. Uh, thank- Thank you. Thanks.”

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, and then she was on her way. 

Virgil spent the next few weeks hopping around homeless shelters. Most of them only allowed a few days’ stay at a time, and he was forced out after breakfast early in the morning. Occasionally, he had to find alternative places to sleep, resorting to behind closed stores, alleyways, fire escapes— Anything he could find and be relatively certain he wouldn’t be caught. 

Most days spent in the city were unproductive. He was overwhelmed, not sure what he wanted, what choices he even had. The stark difference of the empty house he spent three days in, the loudest sounds being traffic outside or his music, to plunging himself deep in the middle of something that was constantly alive, constantly busy, was… 

Overwhelming. 

He was at a cafe, his current favourite place in the city because they let him stay as long as he wanted and gave him free water, when he saw the ad. 

THREE ROOMMATES (MALE) LOOKING FOR FOURTH 

The three of us are currently struggling to make rent, and we have a spare bedroom. Rent would be approximately $575/month. Two of us work from home, and they’re very loud. One of them only works from home part-time. 

Attached was a phone number to call for an interview. 

Virgil asked the girl behind the counter to borrow her phone, and dialled the number with shaking hands. 

“Hello?” 

“H-Hi.” Virgil cleared his throat as his voice broke. “Um, I saw your ad?” 

“Oh! Awesome! When are you free for an interview?”

“Any time, but…” He swallowed. “I’m… I’m just a little, uh, short. I only have about $490 left. But- But if I just had a place to stay, I could-”

“Hey!” The boy sounded concerned. “Hey, hey, calm down. We can still do the interview! Everyone here is struggling, we get it. Besides, you’re our third applicant, and the other two are… Not favourable. So if you nail the interview, and we don’t get too many more applicants, I’ll try to convince my roommates. Where have you been staying?”

Virgil hesitated. “Kind of, um, all over the place. The- The shelters, mostly.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed gravely. “Okay, are you free in an hour? I’m home, so if you want to bang out the interview today, we can!” 

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Really? Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I can get there. Um, what’s the address?” 

When he arrived at the apartment complex, he wanted to throw up and go back to the shelter. Images of Patton laughing at him, or harassing him, or attacking him were the mildest thoughts to run through his head. 

But this was his best option. 

He knew that. 

He had to go inside. 

He took in a shuddering breath. He had to go inside. 

He walked inside. 

Virgil was afraid of elevators, so he took the stairs, only half procrastinating. Patton and his roommates lived on the fourth floor. By the time he arrived, his thighs burned and he was a little out of breath. He looked down at himself and cringed— He was so skinny, mostly just bones, and pale. He looked like he crawled out of a cave. He wore his boyfriend’s now dirty hoodie and jeans that hadn’t been washed in a week. 

How the fuck was he supposed to land this interview? 

He forced himself to push forward, though, and when he knocked, he barely heard it. The door flew open and Virgil barely managed not to jump back. The boy on the other side had golden-brown skin and big, round green eyes. His dark hair fell in messy curls over his forehead. His apron, covered in flour and cocoa powder, followed the swell of his round belly. 

“Hi!” He stuck his hand out. “Virgil? I’m Patton!” 

Virgil shook his hand with a loose grip and stepped inside when gestured. Patton pointed out the table while he hung up his apron, and Virgil nervously lowered himself into one of the old, chipped wooden chairs. Patton came to sit across from him with a warm smile and a sheet of paper. 

“Okay, so I just have a few questions!” He said cheerily. “Don’t let yourself get too nervous, this is hardly formal, I promise.” 

Virgil nodded. 

“Okay! First question: How long would you be staying?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh… I’m not- I’m not really sure. As long as possible, I guess. Until I get back on my feet and some time after that, if you all are still here.” 

Patton scribbled his answer down. “What do you like to do in your free time?” 

Virgil spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about that question. Did cleaning count as free time? No, that was basically his job. Better refer to it as such. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and stumbled out, “Well, uh, I guess- I guess I listen to music a lot. I gardened sometimes with, you know, those tiny plant boxes?” 

He gasped, and for a terrifying second, Virgil thought he’d somehow offended him. But then Patton pointed to the right, into the living room. Along the sill of the huge window were several of the exact planter boxes Virgil’s boyfriend bought for him. 

“That’s awesome!” Patton gushed. “You’d be able to help us take care of them! They die a lot. We’re planting a lot of strawberries right now, are you any good with them?”

Virgil nodded. “Y-Yeah, I grew tons of strawberries.” 

Patton grinned ear to ear and furiously scribbled some things down. Virgil relaxed a little. “How clean are you? Are you good at cleaning up after yourself?”

Virgil was nodding before he finished speaking. “Yeah, I’m really clean. I spent a lot of time cleaning before I left, so it’s, uh, pretty much habit not to leave a mess around.”

“How would you feel about a chore chart?” Patton pointed to the fridge behind Virgil. Stuck on the front was a large sheet of paper split into three columns, with the headings PATTON, LOGAN, and ROMAN. “Logan made it, and he’s pretty strict about everyone sticking to it. It basically just splits our weekly house chores down the middle, with small accommodations depending on what job everyone has. On paper, I have the least amount of chores because I work the most hours, but a lot of those are cleaning, anyway.” 

Virgil shifted nervously. Would they let him off by saying looking for a job counted towards those hours? Otherwise… He’d be doing a lot of cleaning. What if I trick myself into thinking leaving was a waste of time? 

“I can do that.” He was surprised at how confident he sounded. 

“Great! How often do you cook? No one’s required to cook a certain amount a week or anything- You don’t have to cook at all, if you don’t want to or can’t -but we eat a lot of family dinners so it’s evened itself out so far naturally.” 

“Yeah- No, I can cook. I have a few recipes pretty nailed down so, uh, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Virgil’s body was alive with adrenaline. Was he doing well? He thought he was doing well. Patton looked happier and happier with each answer, so he had to be doing well, right? 

“Along the same line, how do you feel about sharing?” Patton bit his lip. “We understand that everyone has their boundaries, but we’re all pretty close. If you moved in, someone might dip into your groceries by accident, and borrow something without asking. We’d never go into your room without asking, but, well… Yeah, we have boundary issues.” He giggled nervously. 

Tightness expanded in Virgil’s chest. “That’s fine,” he managed. 

Patton frowned. “It’s okay if you’re not. If you’re the right fit for us, we’ll just have to be more careful. You’d just have to forgive a few slip-ups while we adjust.” 

Virgil nodded and forced his voice to steady. “It’s fine. I promise.” He’d just keep everything important in his room- It’s not like he had more than a backpack’s worth right then, anyway. 

Patton nodded slowly and wrote down his answer. “Okay… Um, what’s your sleep schedule like? Roman and Logan both get up pretty early. Logan’s really quiet, but Roman’s really… Not, so if you’re a light sleeper and you sleep in like a normal person, his singing might get on your nerves.”

“I’m fine with that. I, uh, my sleep schedule’s kind of all over the place, so I don’t think it matters?”

“Okay! How has it been lately?”

“Well, uh, the shelters kick us out pretty early, so my sleep schedule probably coincides with Roman’s.” 

Patton nodded. “Do you have any pets, or plans to get any?” Virgil shook his head, and Patton made a noise of disappointment. “How often do you get drunk?”

Surprised, Virgil admitted, “I’ve never gotten drunk.” 

“Oh!” Patton blushed and laughed. “Do you plan on changing that any time soon? Was it a rule, or?” 

“It wasn’t a rule, I just… I don’t know, there was never too much alcohol around. I don’t plan on getting into the stuff, no.” 

Patton nodded and mumbled, “Good.” He straightened up. “Are you still friends with your old roommates?” 

Virgil folded his hands in his lap, squeezing tight. “No?” He stammered, “Is, uh, is that bad?”

He shook his head. “No, not necessarily! How many roommates have you had?”

“Well, there were my parents, and then my boyfriend.” 

“That’s completely understandable,” Patton promised. 

Virgil tipped his head to the side in confusion. Even the part about his parents? He didn’t assume Virgil was some ungrateful, heartless monster? 

“And, um, I’m sorry about this-” Patton looked at him guiltily, “-but I do have to ask… How would you be paying the rent? Would you be able to put down a deposit?”

Shit. Fucking hell, this was going bad fast. “I’m not really sure yet? I- I know that’s bad, I just- Uh, well, I have been looking, I promise. I’ll get the first job I can. I promise.”

Patton held his hand up with a frown. “Hey, it’s okay. I know, you’re in a rough spot right now. It’s okay. You said you’d be a little on the first month?”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “I can give it to you now, though.”

Patton laughed nervously. “Uh, no, that’s okay. Please hold onto that. If we accept you as a roommate, we’ll take it then, okay? Don’t let someone pre-emptively take your money.” 

Virgil blushed. “Okay.”

Patton wrote something down, then looked up and asked, “Is there anything else I should know?” 

He thought for a moment. He was sure there was something he should tell them, something they were obligated to know before they agreed to live with him. Plenty of ideas ran through his head in his boyfriend’s voice, but for whatever reason, he didn’t think those were appropriate to voice. 

“No,” he settled on. “Not that I can think of.” 

“Okay.” Patton smiled and set the paper down. “We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” 

Reblogs > Asks > Likes 

Also, for anybody who isn’t aware, I have a ko-fi where I’ll write you 300 words with your prompt for one coffee 

[lets-go-every-witchway]

More sprouts! A couple of Nasturtiums have broken through the soil, and a sprinkling of teeny Violas ^--^ 

I also planted some Clover seeds, but it looks like only one was still viable (I’d been given a “Grow Your Own Four-Leaf Clover” window sill planter a while ago)... but this li’l trooper is making a good effort so far!

Does anyone know if the fuzzy white mould-like stuff is going to be bad for my seedlings? It’s in every single pot, plus some herbs I’ve also got in window boxes. Is it because they’re inside (in an upstairs apartment with no balcony I have literally zero outdoor space that is mine)? I’m really not very savvy on raising plants yet, so any tips anyone can throw at me would be greatly appreciated!

[hardlyinteresting]

Hot Chocolate

Part 1 of the chocolate kisses one-shot series. I know I promised it a couple of days ago, but I’ve been having a really rough time right now and I had to deal with some stuff first. Warnings: None! Enjoy! Series playlist

New York isn’t the same city he grew up in. His therapist had been telling him since day one that refamiliarizing himself with the city would help to ground him and to trust the memories that come back to him. He starts with his neighbourhood. The apartment he grew up in was levelled in favour of a bigger more modern condominium building. The pizzeria on the corner, Mister De Luca used to own it, it’s a bar with overpriced, crazy flavoured drinks he’s never heard of. The pharmacy where he bought cold sodas and candies for his sister Becca is now a “vintage store”. He kind of likes the vintage store, the dresses and slack pants on display echo a time he remembers. He thinks Becca would’ve liked the pink dress if she had seen it in the window.

There’s a comforting in knowing that he actually remembers something. When he returns to the compound that night he asks Friday to help him research the places he found. He fact checks. He starts to carry a notebook on his adventures. Recording the places he finds, and what he remembers them to be. Sometimes he works backwards, jotting down notes about places that came to him in a dream, or in the middle of the day, and then he goes and finds them, explores the new restaurants and art galleries and stores and bakeries. The present starts to feel more tangible with every page filled. He’s walking past a bunch of Brownstone houses when he remembers a guy he went to school with living in one. Jimmy Miller, his dad worked at the post office. Is the post office still there? His feet are in charge; marching him through the streets he walked decades earlier. The post office isn’t open anymore, but the building is more or less the same as he remembers. Above the door and window is a black wood trim that reads: U.S. POST OFFICE  NY in faded red and white paint. The shop has a red door, with black-trimmed windows. There are still apartments upstairs with little planter boxes outside on the sills too. Inside he finds the original shelves are still in use, the floors are the same as he remembers even if they creak with each step he takes across the floor.  The solid wood counter is still there too, though part of it has been sacrificed to accommodate a display case. Three shelves with six trays each. Every tray holds a perfect pyramid of chocolate candies. The walls are lined with bags and boxes of chocolates in all sorts of shapes and colours. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen before. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you come in!” a woman chirps behind him. Turning, Bucky finds himself looking down at one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. Bright eyes and red painted lips. She’s wearing a gingham print dress that doesn’t quite fit the modern era and he quickly wonders if she shops at the vintage store two blocks over. When he doesn’t respond she makes her way behind the counter setting down a metal tray of what looks to be almond bark. “Is there anything I can help you find?” She tries again, offering him a smile. “Uh--Um, No. Sorry. I was just-,” God, he feels like an idiot, “I was just looking”.

_____________________ Sam makes him go back the next day, even drives him there to make sure he does it. “There’s no point getting to know the new world if you aren’t going to talk to anyone in it”. He’s right. And Bucky knows his therapist would say the same thing. So, he does his best to ignore the lump in his throat as he walks into the store again. Today the smell of vanilla and chocolate combine. It’s warm and sweet. So sweet he can almost taste it. “You’re back!” The woman smiles popping her head out of the backroom, “I’ll be out in a second!” Then he hears it, and for a second he swears he’s hearing things, there’s no way--no, it is. The sound of smooth jazz floats from the room she’s in, Dorris Day’s voice accompanies. He knows the song. “You know this song?” The woman asks as she appears, mug in hand. “What?” “You were humming. Do you know this song?” “Uh, yeah actually...I do,” it brings a smile to his face, he likes knowing things. “Is there anything I can get you?” She smiles back drifting to her place behind the counter. “I don’t know,” he admits. She sends him home with a bag full of samples. One of everything she has. Sam says she must like him. ______________________

After eating his way through his samples, he returns once a week, if not more to buy some of his favourites. The woman’s name is Y/N he discovers. The chocolate shop was originally her grandfathers, he opened it in the 50s, she took over when he passed away. After a month of talking, Y/N has his usual purchase ready for him before he even comes into the store. Today, she’s sitting behind the counter, a mug in hand, when he arrives. It’s raining and colder than it should be this time of year. “Hello grumpy pants,” She teases. He only grumbles under his breath. “I have something for you!” “You always do”. “Hold on!” she easily excited, he thinks as she practically skips off into the back room. She returns with a different mug, steaming, she hands it to him. “Coffee?” he asks looking as the warm liquid. “No silly! Hot chocolate!” It’s warm and sweet. So sweet. Creamy. It smells like vanilla too. He remembers having hot chocolate once before. He was 12 at the time. His mother was baking for the church bake sale. She made him and his father cups of hot chocolate with the leftover cocoa powder. He had to share his cup with Becca, she was only 3 or 4 at the time. “What do you think?” Y/N snaps him out of his thoughts. “I love it. Thank you”.  

Tag list:  @learisa