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sauntervaguelydown · 2 years

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easy home gardening suggestions

Are you bad at eating the vegetables you buy? Do you feel like everything goes bad before you can eat it? KEEP IT FRESH ON THE VINE. Or at least, pickle it yourself.

You will need: pots (plastic is fine, terra cotta is drier, glazed ceramic retains moisture best). Dirt (surprisingly cheap but very heavy). Sunshine (free).

(I live in a humid part of the USA, these tips are not meant for deserts)

Container options: all your containers NEED drainage holes, but if you're a freak like me, you can take any sturdy plastic thing with sides & a bottom and nail/drill/MELT holes into it. Storage tubs may be a cheap alternative. Don’t hold the tub upside down and melt the excess plastic with matches directly onto your human hand. Burn bandages are expensive. Or just steal old ceramic pots from your aging grandmother.

Container Gardening

BELL PEPPERS: if you get half a day at least of direct sun, you can grow bell peppers. They do want warm weather so either you have to put them inside your house in a very sunny window or wait until it's 70degrees F or more. Remember that flowers do need to be pollinated by SOMETHING. Note that if you're planting them in containers, deeper is better; bell pepper tap roots can go 3 feet down if you let them. Minimum of 12 inches. If you have time but no money, scrape the seeds from dinner and plant them. If you have money but no time, try to buy one sprouted from the local plant nursery. Outdoors you will get caterpillars, but in my experience they are very polite and do not attack the fruit, so they're fine. You can grow three pepper plants per foot diameter of dirt surface.

OTHER PEPPERS: generally all peppers have the same needs, although my hot peppers seem a bit less thirsty than my bell peppers. I bought some already-growing hot peppers from the local plant nursery and they have been EXTREMELY productive; some "hot" peppers like mine (a Holy Mole pepper) actually make great mild salad greens if you scrape the spicy seeds out & pick while still green. Minimum of a foot deep containers, deeper is better if you can manage it. Full sun.

SCALLIONS: with green onions/scallions, you know the big thick ones they sell in the store with the roots still on? buy a couple and plant them in a pot of dirt in the sun and you'll have infinite green onion leaves. They can stand freezing weather if you cover them. It got down to 20 F here and I still didn't lose them. No flowers involved, just juicy crunchy leaves. They only have to be in containers 6 inches deep minimum. DO THIS.

SALAD GREENS: container gardening works well for lettuce and mustard/mizuna. Lettuce needs regular watering, it has shallow roots. You just gotta plant Mizuna when it's cold enough for the seeds to germinate (40 F ~ish). Mizuna is a hardy little guy, tolerates heat AND cold. You gotta buy the seeds, but they're cheap. Follow directions on the seed pack. This can be done (theoretically) in a sunny window indoors since they do not need pollinators. It's all LEAVES baby.

LIMA BEANS. These have deep roots and they have long tall vines; if you have the space for the roots, and any thing LIKE a trellis for the vines, and sun, you can get so many goddamn lima beans for 0 effort. Forget about these suckers you can't STOP them from fruiting.

More below the cut bc this is getting long

TOMATOES are kind of an investment; they're easy to grow from seed but they need a lot of sun & a deep pot. If you want full size beefsteak tomatoes, try a tall, lightweight plastic pot with a lot of fertilizer & consistent watering. Don’t forget the tomato cages! Those beefy boys will pull your plant over sideways. The lightweight pot will allow you to move the pot inside if you have a sudden deluge of rain that will waterlog & split the fruit. You can try planting seed from harvested dinner, but you may end up with some much smaller tomatoes than what you harvested from. It’s something to do with commercial hybrids.

TBH i recommend growing a cherry tomato, you get more fruit and you're less likely to lose it to bugs/sudden rain/general bad luck. Buy some ripe in the store and harvest the seeds. Do not try to grow indoors, you need pollinators & sun. Sensitive to cold. Giant green caterpillars will try to consume your entire tomato plant. You must catch them before they succeed.

SPINACH is nutritious, but honestly don't bother with growing spinach past spring if you live south of the Mason-Dixon line, it likes the cold. I'm having bad lucky with it--it's either too hot or too wet or BOTH around here. My friend who gardened in the desert said they had good luck? It works in container gardens tho. Critters love to eat it. Maybe ask about it at the plant nursery.

ARUGALA: bought some already growing and it's a real champ, doesn't need much water. 6 inch depth minimum. NOTE: Once it flowers, you will not get enough leaves for a sandwich. Since then I've grown it from shed seed and it's very hardy--it actually put out a whole tap root through the bottom of my growpot and got down into the soil. Keep it watered when it's baby. The seed will sprout pretty much any time through the spring and summer.

CARROTS & BEETS:

Carrots are... more complicated. Unless you really like carrots or you really like gardening, idk if I'd recommend them for beginners. You start them from seed then thin them out so they're all at least 6 inches apart, and the seedlings wilt in the heat but they also don't like it when it's freezing so... I'm having a hard time with them. Maybe there's a breed that grows really well in your area? Ask at the local plant nursery. I did a "baby carrots" variety (sex seeds) and two survived infancy. One is still growing as of September. I'm hoping for more seeds.

Beets are less picky, and need a bit less water. But they do die off at the height of summer, so get them going while you can.

CELERY: basically the same, but less angry about the heat. Keep moist. Pick a bit & come back again for more. My seed packet said they should be ready to pick stalks in April but they definitely were not. July was really when they got big enough to eat.

ZUCCHINI: There's a lot of posts about how easy zucchini is to grow, but I think I'm in the wrong part of the country for it. Needs a lot of water, at least when it's hot outside. Definitely works for container gardening. Give it a 12 inch deep pot. TIP: put your old coffee ground in the dirt to increase the acidity. You will not get any fruit unless you have pollination, but pollinators also like to lay eggs on the leaves and eat them all to smithereens. Pickleworms have destroyed me two years in a row now. Cucumbers are the same way--and if you're gonna try cucumbers, buy a burpless variety to keep beetles away at least.

YAMS are pretty easy. They like the HEAT. They need 100% full sun. What you do is you buy a yam from the store, wait until it starts to put out growths, then (indoors) suspend it partly in some water until the green growths are at least 6 inches long. Then you can plant those growths in dirt. It's especially good if the growths have little white roots, but I've planted growths without any roots and they were fine. Healthy vines will put out runners. Suggestion: start in a deeper container but only fill it up with like 6 inches of dirt. When the yam vine gets long, add another few inches of dirt and bury some of the vine. Keep doing this until you run out of space and/or dirt. You get more yams this way. Harvest when the cold starts to make the leaves all sad and crinkly. Using fluffy light dirt makes harvest easier.

STRAWBERRIES: You'll get them one at a time, and they won't be very flavorful in many cases. They need pollinators, but squirrels steal them as soon as they're ripe. Keep under a net. They're also VERY hard to grow from seed. I have managed it, but the germination time is like... three months. Perfect container plants though. And in the summer they start putting out runners, and then you can MULTIPLY your strawberry content. Set them somewhere just out of the rain, so that the fruit won't swell up and split during a deluge, but remember to keep them moist.

BLUEBERRIES: fine for containers, although they need to be deep. Get at least two blueberry bushes so they can cross pollinate. Make sure that both varieties bloom at about the same time of year. Partial sun is fine. In winter it may go dormant but it comes back.

BLACKBERRIES and RASBERRIES are insanely low maintenance but bad for container gardening. They want a lot of space. You'd need a big container. Maybe a costco storage tub. Better off putting them in the ground, if you have a garden. But watch out, they spread.

A note about PUMPKINS: you can get a pumpkin seed to sprout basically spitting on it. I threw some dirt on a rotten halloween pumpkin and now I have a legion of leaves. However, getting them to fruit requires pollinators, and the vines take up space. I wouldn't try to grow them unless you have an actual garden with flowers (weeds are fine) or you just.... want a pretty vine to look at. Also they don't like the heat very much, even though they grow over the summer.

LEMONS: you can actually grow lemon seedlings from the seeds of regular ass grocery store lemons. They're supposed to be pretty easy to do but I haven't had much luck. Now that it's warmer out I'm gonna try again; basically just put them in some dirt and keep the dirt moist until a sprig comes up. you won't get fruit for like 5 years but the leaves smell nice. Tangerines are the same way.

I've put a couple over-ripe onions in the ground, but I don't think I'm going to get much out of it. There's a wikihow article on it. Basically you cut the bottom off an onion from the store, eat the top, and then treat the bottom like a yam. But you might as well just plant the whole thing if it's already started putting out green tendrils. Maybe you'll get flowers.

Herbs

hard Rosemary is actually difficult in most places bc it needs Mediterranean conditions ie. FULL sun, not a lot of water, warm weather. It starts to grow mold if it's not blazed 8 hours a day. Rosemary can get up to the size of a full ass bush if you give it the space. Needs 12 inches of pot depth. If you haven't got full sun, don't bother. I don't recommend growing these from seed--if you have a plant nursery anywhere near your home, just buy one there that is already established with roots. Cold hardy when large enough.

medium Basil has about the same sun needs as Rosemary, but it doesn't mildew. Basil will do the hydra thing and put out new heads of leaves if you snip them off. I'm growing it from seed and it's doing pretty good! Do not eat the flowers. Not cold hardy.

medium Ginger is a tropical shade plant, so you can grow it with no direct sunlight (it does need to get at least indirect sun). It needs really rich soil so you gotta go buy some bagged potting soil with compost, but literally you can get a healthy ginger from the store and sprinkle dirt on top and it ought to start growing. Especially if it already has little white or green fingers growing out of it. Give it a deep pot, 10 inches if possible. not cold hardy. If the soil freezes, it dies.

easy Mint: we all know it's insanely prolific. However I have managed to kill all my mint twice. I think I didn't give it a large enough container to spread out in. Aim for something at least 10 inches deep and at least a foot diameter. I know, it's a big commitment for an herb. Partial shade is fine. do NOT put it directly in the ground or it will take over. Cold hardy perennial (survives at 0 F and lower). It may go dormant but it comes back. Keep moist.

easy Oregano. Good boy. Precious child. More sun is better, and not a lot of watering. Pot only has to be 6 inches deep, though more never hurts. I've heard that cilantro and tarragon and thyme have the same root depth, but I've never tried growing them so that's all I know. If you're planting from seed, make sure it's hot outside and do Not bury the seed. It goes right on the surface of the dirt in the sunshine. 3 months from sowing to adulthood. Cold tolerant perennial; it may go dormant but it comes back.

easy Garlic: you might not be up for growing garlic from seed, but if you want to harvest the green stalks that grow up from the bulbs in spring, they are kind of like a cross between chives and garlic in flavor, and very safe to eat. Good in soup. Just buy some regular garlic and then forget it in your kitchen until the individual bulbs start poking up green shoots inside that papery wrapping stuff. Then plant them in some dirt with the green shoot pointing up. These bulbs survive VERY cold winters and thrive. It may go dormant but it comes back. If you let it go through a cold winter, you may get harvestable additional bulbs.

List of Flowers You Can Eat:

Nasturtium, violet, viola, coneflower, chrysanthemum, citrus blossoms, daisies (who knew), marigold, clover flowers (clover is good because it nitrogenates the soil). When in doubt, eat the petals only. Except for Nasturtium, i know you can eat those leaves and stems and all. They're kind of peppery.

There's actually a LOT of edible flowers I haven't begun to list. If you're curious, look into it.

Things you simply cannot grow at home: Vanilla. Cinnamon. Soy beans. Apples. Do not try. (Vanilla is an orchid. Orchids are Hard.) (Cinnamon is growable in Mexico if you keep it well watered.)

straight up, if you're gonna grow any of these, just google "how often water [x]" and then do that forever. Set a recurring calendar alarm. If they look wilty, increase how often you do it. Personally I water everything when the dirt looks dry, but that's because I'm an obsessive.

Anything sold in the store uncooked/undried that is either 1. a seed itself or 2. contains a seed (or 3. has roots attached) can PROBABLY be pirated. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Google is your friend.

Other Notes:

you CAN pollinate a lot of things by hand, if you're willing to put the effort in

"well draining" soil usually has compost material content mixed in. Sand is also well draining, but maybe a little TOO well draining. Basically, avoid clay if it needs to drain.

Most things do not need fertilizer all the time if you buy potting soil (it's pre-fertilized). However, growth costs nutrients. Keep that in mind.

You can steal dirt out of the ground for your pots but remember that it may be contaminated depending on where you get it (roadside? BAD idea). Also it's heavy as fuck. Plan accordingly.

Coffee & tea grounds are acidic and nutritious. (for plants) (don't eat them)

it's not actually a great idea to bury a moldy piece of fruit in a pot. You will get flies. I know it seems like a composting hack but don't do it.

You can put old wood cuttings & logs at the bottom of a container for plants that need a lot of nitrogen, like ginger. Make sure there's still an appropriate amount of soil between the wood and the surface.

potting SOIL contains dirt (sand/silt/clay), potting MIX is just organic matter (peat usually). Mix is fluffy, soil is denser. You can combine to get the advantages of both. Potting mix is usually a good bet for fruiting plants, but I've tried using plain ground soil for almost everything and the main problem is it just dries out faster. If you're putting things directly in the ground, just get some "gardening soil" to fill in around the roots a little bit.

pots are weirdly expensive. Scavenge and recycle what you can. I've used costco cranberry juice jugs for things, but the ridges in the plastic do retain water. Make SURE your pots are deep enough. And make sure they have a fair bit of surface diameter.

depression meal: boil one package of maruchan ramen, as many lima beans as your little hands can grab, chunk of scallion (chop if you have the energy, shred it with your fingers if not). celery? if you've got it. pour flavoring packet. add lemon juice. survive another day without scurvy.

A note on TREES

Citrus trees are easier to manage than some other kinds, but they do still need management. Citrus is very cold sensitive so if you can bring them inside as soon as it hits freezing at night, that is best. The trouble is they also need deep enough pots for their tap roots, which makes them hard to MOVE. Even with frost covering, I lost a lemon tree to a hard winter this year RIP. The good news is that after they've been in the ground about 5 years, you do not have to cover them as carefully anymore. I've got a 30 year old tangerine tree that went dormant this winter and then came back kicking, and I didn't cover it a single inch.

Peach trees are also fairly cold sensitive, but they need a minimum number of cold nights (40 F or lower) to produce fruit. So uh. Either cover them with a frost cloth as soon as it gets freezing out, or bring them inside in a big pot but leave them outside as long as you can. I wouldn't try to grow one from seed personally, but I've bought a couple saplings. Look for a variety that does well in your climate. Your local university might have made a hybrid.

You can grow and make your own tea leaves; the tree is a specific variety of Camellia. Grows well in the southern USA.

"pawpaw" trees are a fruit tree native to north-east america, cultivated by american indians. They're pretty cool. They grow well on the sides of hills. You can buy dormant saplings in the winter/late spring online. You need at least one male and one female. Deep tap roots.

You can GROW a banana tree, but you can't make it fruit unless you're in a tropical climate. I wouldn't bother. Even subtropical doesn't cut it.

Figs are cool but keep in mind that lots of people are allergic to their leaves.

In the case of most trees, long term, a pot is not a good idea, but for the first few years it's fine. Remember that every year the roots get bigger.

If you have a commercially sold tree seedling, the chances are it's been grafted at some point. If there's a knot or a notable bend in the lower part of the trunk, that's the graft point. Stuff that grows below that knot is going to be Not Delicious. Pick off growths below the graft point.

A note on COMPOST:

composting is a great way to enrich your shit, but watch out, because it also produces mildew, mold, flies, and scavengers.

The lowest effort version of composting is simply to take your tea leaves/coffee grounds out of the pot when you're done with them and let them dry out somewhere--a bowl or a tupperware, idk--then save them to mix into your potting soil later. Minimum amount of fungus, no bugs. You can do this in your house. Unbleached paper also works, and basically any "dry" organic material.

The more intense version includes things like egg shells, banana skins, things that will attract pests and grow mold. You don't want this in your house. Also the shells of beans, discarded lettuce greens, tops of strawberries--etc. Most of this stuff is of too little caloric value to attract rats, so it's okay to keep near your house.

But the more "food" stuff you start to add, like rotten vegetables and table scraps, the more rat appealing it becomes. Don't get over ambitious. That stuff needs to be 50 ft away from your house minimum.

#resources #gardening #cottage core #or something idk

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nelapanela94 · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY @yakaaamoz this one is for you!!!

EVERYONE SEND BIRTHDAY WISHES TO MIA!!

WC: 2k

TW: fluff, domestic fluff, post war, a smidge of smut (nothing explicit)

You and Levi celebrating your first Valentine's Day after the war.

Dot, dot.

“Levi, you’re too slow!” you chrip and wedge between him and the railing, making the five-story building rumble with your zing and agitation.

He’s left alone, amid the flight of stairs between the first and second floor, with the lingering clatter of your boots. Grumbling, he rolls the eyes, fixes his hat and hobbles after, his hand tightening around the handle of the walking aid. He meets the startled neighbor from the 201 and nods apologetically. “Sorry, but it’s the last episode.” Levi shrugs.

“It’s ok.” The man chortles. “My mother loves that play too.” A cigarette dangles from his lips. He shoves his hand into his pockets and climbs down the stairs. “Good evening, Mr. Ackerman.”

You stumble into your apartment, scuff off your shoes, tripping and clinging to the wall. A gush of pain blows up in your toe, and you curse at the coffee table for happening to be in the middle of the living room. You don’t have time to cry, anyway; the pendulum keeps swaying; the seconds tick. You plunge on your knees before the intricately carved wooden box, and static crackles as you turn the dial, the tiny red line moving back and forth between the numbers, the scratchy noise vexing and probing your patience.

Finally, the sultry voice that gives life to Werner Fischer hones in the last scene of yesterday’s episode and, splaying a hand on your chest, you heave a sigh of relief. You huddle on the couch and stretch your wool sweater over your knees, expectant. Tonight, Sarah will choose between her fiancé Werner, the wealthy, extremely good-looking and perfect future son-in-law, or Thomas Meyer, her family’s gamekeeper, and the love of her life since they were fifteen.

The notes of the Wedding March purl in, and Sarah’s journey to the altar commences.

“No, Sarah, don’t.” You mumble, clenching the hem of your sweater and biting your lips. Meanwhile, Thomas is waiting at the train station. Steam hoots, people blather, iron wheels hurtle by and screech. A letter rumples in his hand.

The door thuds and the foyer lights flicker to life. Levi takes his time. He hooks the cane on the nail, then shimmies off his trench, his jacket and slips them on the branches of the tree-like hanger. Then his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. His spine cracks as he groans down onto the bench.

Maybe he is getting old.

But aren’t the forties supposed to be the new thirties? That’s what the guy in the hair dye add says.

Deliberately, he takes off his shoes, fishes yours with his toes and pushes both pairs under the seat where they belong.

That goddamn play has become your new vice and sometimes he regrets buying the damn radio for your last birthday. Nah. He loves seeing you smile. He’ll never forget the spark in your eyes when music blared into the house for the first time, and you beckon him to the dance floor even though he was still doomed to the wheelchair. The candid and carefree way you react to the small things in life fascinates him.

He limps to the kitchen, ties the apron on and rummages through the scanty content in the fridge, diving into the drawer of forgotten veggies where your attempts for a healthy lifestyle lie.

The box of chocolate bars rests in plain sight.

He unwraps one, furtive enough to go unnoticed by the acute ears of a telegraphist. Even though you’re too absorbed in the play, he cranes his head over his shoulder, squinting. Nothing. You’re rocking with apprehension, riveted to the radio.

The bomb of textures and flavors explodes in his mouth, the chewiness of the caramel mates immaculately with the crunchiness of the wafer.

The foil falls into the bin, and he wipes his fingers clean.

The heater hums; the windows rattle with the sharp and crispy wind.

Onions, tomatoes, garlic; mouth-watering sizzling. Through the chop chop chop, he strains his ears to catch the final scenes. Though predictable, like your romance novels, he’s engaged in the plot too, listening in secrecy while making dinner. Now Sarah runs across the town in her hefty wedding gown, crossing her fingers for Thomas not to hop in that train. He leans over the countertop, scrapes the cutting board into the pan, his hand threatening to solder to the knife handle.

The trains whistles to depart, and Sarah’s harrowing pleads stop the machine.

You’re clapping and sniffling and wiping your tears; your nails most likely reduced to the roots.

And they lived happy ever after.

“Did you like it, Levi?” You chime from the living room, stoking the coals in the fireplace.

Shit.

You turn off the radio and pad on your kitty socks to the kitchen, your eyes red and swollen and the hem of your sleeves tinted in a darker shade of taupe. “Next week starts a new one, we should listen together,” you say, flitting like a hummingbird from pantry to pantry to spoil dinner.

“I’m not into that crap.”

You raise a brow, hands hooked at your hips.

“I wasn’t.” he grunts, and your peck on his cheek softens him.

You stride around him, filching a chunk of carrot, sniffing the sauté, and turn toward the fridge, while Levi rakes an excuse in his head he’ll need for when war drops the question mark.

“Levi! That was the last one!” you pout.

But he shrugs and sighs, bullet-resistant to your whining. “You said you wanted to lose some pounds; I was helping.”

“You’re saying I’m fat.” Your jaw drops to the floor.

He opens his mouth to concoct his defense and closes it immediately, sewing his lips into a thin line before he, involuntarily, wreaks havoc in your kitchen. He knows that whatever he says, you’ll twist his words against him, transmute them into a dagger. One doesn’t fight battles that are already lost.

Levi surrenders, turns around, and you trap him in your arms, pressed between your body and the granite edge. No time to hunker down in the trench. You kiss him, slipping your tongue in his mouth, unannounced, cajoling sweet sounds and little grunts, savoring him; his not so shy hands teasing with the hem of your sweater.

You pull apart, holding down his hands, his lips dewy and pink, his eyes glazed with endearment. “You taste good,” you purr against his lips, running your fingers through his hair, some strands dusted with the white of age.

Dot, dash, dot, dot. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dot, dash. Dot.

In the pot, water burbles to a boil, the ring of blue fire fizzing. You prattle about your day, tangling and combing out his soul with your sweet voice.

☺

He lids the leftovers of the stew, and you help him to the couch. He snuggles in your arms, in his safe place, his ear pressed on your heartbeats. His solace and reassurance. His purpose. His beacon.

You caress his hair, fondly, with the adoration of a devotee raising their palms in hallelujah.

“Levi.” You whisper.

“uh?”

“Do you want to be my Valentine?”

“You’re what?”

“Valentine.”

He raises his head, scanning your face. “What is a Valentine?”

“I’m not so sure.” You tap a finger on your chin, gazing up and blushing. “I heard the girls in the office blathering about chocolates and roses, but I was too embarrassed to ask. It seems they celebrate love, the fourteenth.”

Levi ponders. Now it makes sense why so many lovey-dovey mawkish couples have been swarming the tea shop since the beginning of the month. Does he look that dumb when he’s staring at you?

He jots in his head to have Gabi and Falco garland the shop with red and white.

He smiles. “I’ll be your Valentine. Whatever that means.”

Your eyes glint, and you plant kisses on his head. Rosemary sheds from his hair.

☺

You tear off the 13th from the calendar; but the elation soon dwindles.

The restaurants are bursting at the seams. At Montolivo, the line snakes around the block, and Levi’s gammy leg is giving up. The wind blows slashing your cheeks, and people’s breaths amass in a cloud.

“I’m sorry, Levi.” You mutter halfheartedly and disappointed, “I should’ve made a reservation.”

He winds an arm over your shoulders for support, “and I should’ve brought the damn chair.”

After the war time rolls by leisurely. You take your time, shamble down the street festooned in red hearts, the throngs splitting to give you way. Matching coats and scarves. There’s nothing else to worry about other than what you’re going to eat for lunch.

A little boy, around eight with his hair slick-parted to the side, stops before you and hands you a rose. You know him. Every Friday, he and his mother place a message for his father who works at a mine two hundred miles to the west.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles. His plump cheeks flush, his hands tethered behind his back. He scuffs a foot on the pavement as you pat his head. “You’re so sweet, Matty. Thank you. Happy Valentine for you too.” You bend and drop a kiss on his head, and all his face heats with red.

“Who is that?” He points at Levi, both glowering at each other.

Her official Valentine. Brat. But Levi bites his tongue before he screws up and ends up sleeping in the couch tonight. Thankfully, Mrs. Russo saves the day. She calls Matty and he waves goodbye to you, before slithering through the crowd.

Jewelry stores gleam; marbled chocolate truffles are dusted with gold. The air is dense with the perfume of roses, and beams of sun pierce the mantle of clouds like search lights.

“Let’s grab a large pepperoni. There’s a Malbec waiting for a special occasion at home.” You come up with a quick plan as your stomach grumbles in reproach.

Why do we wait for special dates to use the good stuff? Life slips through our fingers as we wait for the right moment, and then it is too late.

You eat the cheap greasy pizza on the finest china that had never seen the daylight, sloshing a glass of wine back and forth, laughing between hiccups. The gramophone’s flower spills the chords of Debussy and fills every corner of your home.

Home.

You and him.

You eat in silence, with the notes climbing and swirling down in the comfortable kind of silence lovers share.

“Some fresh moon flesh, my sweet valentine?” He opens his mouth, and you stick a wedge of soft camembert. The runny interior, smooth and silky against the pleasantly bitter rind. There’s always a wheel around; you just cannot have enough cheese. “Wine burns fat.” You always say and pour to the last drop. Levi’s cheeks flush, his dimple at full display, crow feet wrinkling the corners of his eyes. He’s mellowed with time.

The cardboard box is blotted with cheese, bestrewn with dried oregano and dough crumbs. In the middle you place a can, the expiration date says it’s fine, but the label has been ripped. It could be anything: beans, sweet corn or spaghetti o’s. You cross your fingers for it to be something sweet.

You find out together. With the tip of a knife, you flick the lid open, and Levi smiles. “Peaches?”

“Peaches.”

You dip two fingers in, tow one slippery half, and nab it, humming with delight, the sugary juice dripping on your hand. Levi laughs, shaking his head and follows you. Sunrise sliding down his throat.

Sweet shops and pastry shops were overflowing with lovers you couldn’t wrest out a slice of pie.

“I’ll do the dishes later,” you say as your pile up the plates in the sink. But you’ll forget and Levi will do the washing up.

You give him a hand and haul him to his feet, then turn around, and he wraps his arms around you, his chest against your back. “Ready?” You clasp your hands on his, holding tight.

“Yes.”

The fireplace crackles, sputtering fire flakes, the flickering glow lapping your naked bodies in bronze. Intertwined like Sinding’s lovers. He presses down into you, your belly flat on the carpet, your name falling in whispers onto your hair.

Writhing and panting. He kisses the spot under your ear, his fingers stroking the knobs of your spine. The rose feels shy and jealous, and her petals unfurl toward the window.

Dash, dot, dash, dash. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dash.

He taps a sequence of dots and dashes on your shoulder. And you smile. All week you’ve been encoding, sending, and decoding the same array for strangers. Three words, eight letters. Twelve short beeps, twelve long beeps, strung in a pattern that’s already carved in your head.

“I love you too, Levi,” you breathe, your body quivering with pure bliss.

His hand finds yours, wedding bands glinting, and he gives you a squeeze.

You are his safe place, his quiet corner, his sweet surrender. You two are the best love story. Better than any cheesy radio play.

And he mutters, “I want to be your valentine forever.”

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#Levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman/reader #levi ackerman/you #Levi ackerman attack on titan #levi aot #levi attack on titan #aot #attack on titan #snk #snk levi #aot Levi #Levi ackerman fic #Levi ackerman x y/n

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yeastinfectionvale · 2 years

Text

Brother Dearest, Boyfriend Dearest

Milo meets Sweetheart's brother and Guy bugs his sibling. Honey enjoys the company of their old roommate and their boyfriend.

SIBLING AU - Sweetheart and Guy are siblings. Featuring They/them Honey and Sweetheart.

“I don’t know about this Sweetheart,” Milo said, fiddling with his collar. “What happens if I slip up? What happens if I fuck up and accidentally shift?” Sweetheart walked over to their mate, enveloping his hands in theirs. Milo sighed as their foreheads touched, “you’re going to be fine. Think of it like a pack meeting.” He leaned back, face deadpan. They laughed before grabbing onto Milo’s collar, pulling him into a kiss.

“Kiss me like that again Sweetheart and I don’t think we’ll be able to get out the door,” he said, hands roaming their hips, fingertips dancing.

“Milo Greer!” Sweetheart exclaimed, laughing, “don’t even try to get out of this dinner with my brother. Guy really wants to meet you. I want him to meet you.” Milo groaned before kissing Sweetheart softly, “okay baby, let me just put my shoes on.” They rubbed his left arm before heading off to put their own shoes on.

The car ride over was blissfully silent, the radio playing in the background as Milo’s thumb rubbed circles on Sweetheart’s thigh.

Sweetheart and Milo stood in front of Guy’s front door, Milo looking at his mate fix their hair. He rested his hand on their cheek, pulling them towards him and into a kiss. Sweetheart carded their hands into his hair, not noticing the front door open.

“EW!” Guy screamed as Milo and Sweetheart pulled away quickly. Guy continued to stare at the couple with disgust as Honey pushed their way under his arm, pulling their self-proclaimed sibling-in-law inside the house. Milo stood frozen under Guy’s scrutinising eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Guy said before ushering Milo inside.

The house smelt like onions and olives as Guy and Milo walked into the empty kitchen. Guy dragged a hand over his face, “So” he said leaning back against the counter, “you’re the guy fondling my sibling. So what are you, Daemon? Werewolf? Elemental? Vampire?” Milo choked on his spit. “Wha-what how?” Guy chuckled before opening the fridge, pulling out a bowl of tomatoes. “I’m guessing werewolf with the wet dog cologne. Don’t look at me like that, my sibling can become invisible, I may be ‘un-empowered’, but I got a good nose. Shame though, I was gonna make a bloody dick sucking joke.” He handed Milo the bowl, inspecting a tomato.

“I didn’t expect you to know, pretty dumb of me now that I think of it.” Milo mumbled looking at the bowl, “do you want help making tomato sauce or something?” Guy took the bowl back and started to walk into the living room, “no, just fulfilling a yearly tradition. Just some brotherly love.” Milo stood still confused, before he heard screaming.

"JUST GET TOMATOED FOR FUCKS SAKE" Guy screamed as he tossed tomatoes in Sweetheart’s general vicinity, missing and hitting a wall instead. Sweetheart phased in and out of view, a grin on their face. Honey held their head in their hands shouting, “MIND THE TABLE. DON’T HIT THE FOOD PLEASE.” Milo caught a stray tomato, jokingly offering it to Honey as he sat down on the sofa next to them. “Is he always like this?” Honey took the tomato, “are they always like this?” Milo smiled, nodding as Guy let out a frustrated scream. Honey spun the tomato, throwing it in an empty corner, hitting an invisible wall.

Sweetheart materialised, seeds on their forehead and a scowl on their face. “Goddamn it” They said as Milo pulled them into his lap, lovingly wiping their forehead clean. Guy plopped himself into Honey’s lap with a huff. Honey shot Guy a look before turning to look at Sweetheart, “you can’t hide from the person who caught you stoned with a certain incubus when we used to be roommates.”

Milo chuckled, arms snaking their way around Sweetheart’s waist. He leaned forward, whispering into their neck, “stoned with an incubus? How scandalous baby.” Guy gagged loudly, two fingers in his mouth. Sweetheart smacked his arm lightly.

“Did I ever tell you about the dog?” Guy asked nobody in particular all of a sudden. Sweetheart and Milo shook their heads. “So I deliver pizza to this one couple that live in the slightly haunted apartments in West Dahlia and they have a huge dog but I never see the dog and the guy together. It's so weird, the dog is like absolutely massive.” Sweetheart and Milo shared a look, “oh does he order chicken barbeque pizza with spicy wings?” Guy nodded, “yeah that’s Asher. He’s my pack mate, second in command of the pack actually.”

Honey’s eyebrows raised and Guy paused, “the dog is a man?” he asked himself. Milo nodded sympathetically, “the dog is a man who once cried after he forgot to get the name of a guy we played with on a Halo server last week. The guy was an ace though. Jammed to California Girls the whole time.” Guy high-fived Milo, the latter caught off-guard slightly, “DUDE!” Guy exclaimed, “that was me!” The two of them launched into a heated discussion of the game, Guy getting off Honey’s lap to start a quick round between the four of them.

“Why don’t we have dinner first?” Honey asked hurriedly, hungry after a day of dinner preparations. Sweetheart mouthed a ‘thank you’ as the four of them moved to the table. Milo poured drinks and Honey served plates ladened with grilled chicken and roasted vegetables. “No pizza then?” Sweetheart said, kicking Guy’s leg. Honey groaned as they began to eat, light conversation sparking between bites. Milo reached out, holding Sweetheart’s hand, oblivious to Guy doing the same to Honey.

The night rolled to a close, Sweetheart leaning on Milo, half-asleep as they both stumbled out to the car. Guy watched him buckle them into the passenger seat of the car, kissing them lightly on the forehead before closing the door quietly to not wake them up. He waved to Guy and Honey before sitting in the driving seat.

“You happy?” Honey asked Guy, hugging him softly. He kissed the top of their head as he began to walk them both into their bedroom, “yeah. I’m happy.”

#redacted asmr #redacted asmr guy #redacted audio #redacted asmr honey #redacted asmr milo #redacted asmr sweetheart #milo greer #This is just one installment in the AU #I have stuff planned

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carmenized-onions · 2 months

Note

chapter 333333 - we back!!

(platonically) (for now) (what?) (I didn't say anything). - HHHHNNGHH!!!! ONION!!!

is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so. - so based of you

is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so. - all of the cherries

you’re thankful that you’re alone - cmon now chippy did you really think carmy was able to stay away

it’s not gonna somehow get more correct than correct… - but but what if can be…

“Fuck are you doing here?” You and Carmen manage to speak in perfect unison. - they’re soulmates

“If you need a palate tester, lemme know.” - mood. i love that she’s bold enough to say it cause i’d be thinking it but wouldn’t want to overstep

lone chef - lone chef, lone wolf (well bear)

He might not consider himself a brightening presence, but to you, he certainly is a nice lamp. - fucking fuck fuck fuck

not wanting to stroke his ego, but he’s already clocked it. - i love that for them. their dynamic is everything

On their one black plate - her plate!!

But then he leans forward, head meeting your level, amusement lilting his voice - i would die

He grabs the fork from you to try for himself - the way they’ve always shared:’)))

you press the back of your hand to his chest / grazing your hand on the small of his back - it’s so small but oh the touches!!

poor man’s sommelier… - poor syd’s sommelier

“I take the L.” - yeah you do *badum tss*

“What’s wrong with home, Carm?” - she’s too good

He sniffs, he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, for you to tell him he has to go home / “You can hole up at mine.” - I LOVE THEM

“Good. Where’s the black plate go?” - in your apartment and also MY HEART

It’s heavily thrifted and upcycled from furniture you found on the side of the road - love that, especially cause you just KNOW chippy knows how to properly clean the furniture

This is a perfect apartment because you live in it. - :’))))))

Nothing can hit, in here. - 😭😭😭💕🫶🏼

“I uh, I left your Carhartt at work.” - RIIIGHT CAUSE SHE PUT IT ON HIM IN THE WALK-IN AAAAH

“you can put your shit there.” - she’s so slick

“Fuck is this?” / “Fuck is what?” - i am in love with them

“Don’t say my name like that…” / He has discovered does not like it when you say his name with any sort of animosity or disappointment. - because he liiiiikes her:3 he’s so precious

“Carmen no… Two in One?” “…Five in One.” “Five in One?!” - they’re so funny!!! these moments are so<333

pair of sweatpants your brother left here ages ago. - it makes me happy that it’s her brother’s and not an ex like most fics do :’)

Goddamn it he is very pretty, sonofabitch. - he is, it hurts

There’s a boy in your house and you’ve just discovered he’s pretty. - !!!

And without verbally checking in, you once again flow into a silent rhythm - they’re so natural together like yeah they’re meant to be

You make a face, and while he doesn’t fuckin’ guffaw, he does smile - like how richie does:’) she probably made faces with eva oh OH

You both speak at once. “Weird to see you out of uniform.” - SEEE!!! they are perfect. let’s go back to when everything was good and hair was being washed

And he can see you. - how mikey saw her, OH THIS IS A CRIMEE

“You’re good at it.” - 😭😭😭

does he laugh at the sound? Yes. Yes, he does. - that’s what good p-

“What’re you doing?” “I’m taking the couch.” - i also did not forget about this entire interaction, a monumental moment

I will be haunted all night by my Nonna if you sleep on the couch—” / “My own grandmother takes the couch when I visit. She would throw me off my own balcony if I made a guest take the couch.” / “My Nonno would stab me if I let a pretty girl sleep on a couch.” - this in particular i never moved on from. it’s so funny and accurate (especially for carm)

“Then let me use it!” “No!” - the no is so sidieirj

also once again thanks for making his text bold so we know who’s who. love you what who said that, that was just a gust of wind

ALSO!!! PRETTY GIRL!!!!

“So whichever one you find the least sacrilege.” - ugh your way with words

“C’mon, Tony.” / “Heard, pretty boy!" - so if i want to tattoo their dynamic on my eyes how would one do that exactly

all of this is - I JUST MISS THESE MOMENTS WOWIE WOW WOW

Binging through my Popcorn asks, what a TREAT and a half. Shout out to google docs for continually crashing as I try to write ask responses MORE EFFICIENTLY THROUGH THEM AND THEN THEY STOP WORKING FCUK YOU GUYS ANYWAYS LETS GET INTO IT!!

So many cherry flavours that I didn’t plan for. I might just really like cherries. I’ve been eating a bowl of them like every day lately cause they’re in season here right now.

BAD IMPOSTER SYNDROME BAD!! IT’S NOT GONNA GET MORE PERFECT THAN PERFECT!! DRILL BOY!! DRILL WITH YOUR HEART!!

Key signs of a soulmate: you keep talking at the same time. You think he’s a lamp. He can’t stop smiling when he can tell you’re impressed by him. He gives you the black plate. He shares forks with you (they keep running out of forks ok). Also you keep touching him and he’s not saying it’s making him freak out but it’s making him freak out. Positively.

BROKE ASS SYD’S SOMMELIER (so aggressive for no reason RELAX me)

When is he NOT taking the L. How many Chicagoans get tortured by this joke every day? I wonder. I really do. I love the way Chip manages this scene in general, but it’s so fucking. Looking back, it really tracks because like— this is the way that she mourns!! She’s not gonna tell CARMEN to do it any different from her. She sucks at taking her own advice but she won’t force someone to do shit SHE wasn’t strong enough to do. I love her.

I KNOW her handyman dad has a fucking steam cleaner and powerwasher she borrows all the time to clean her shit. As a crafty guy there’s always that little random weird tool that always comes in handy— I imagine handyman dad OG Chicago’s Kindest owns SO MANY big and small specific tools

Carmen, the jacket thief. How dare he. He likes her, he’s forgiven. Still a sinner for Five In One.

SO MANY FICS DO EXES PANTS AND IT’S LIKE— Man me personally, I gave him his fucking clothes back. But I’ve got 4 of my brothers sweaters in my closet rn. Mostly cause they’re hand me downs and he didn’t fit in them anymore but still. There’s also the pain of Chip did borrow her brothers sweats (and brought unused toiletries home) in Two Steps Back,… are they the same ones? FOR YOU TO DECIDE MY BOY!!

THERE’S A BOY IN YOUR HOUSE AND HE’S PRETTY!!! I love their silent rhythm. It’s like my favourite thing in life with people and in characters when two people just flow like one unit without effort. I adore them for this. That and the in sync speaking. Oh how I miss these days.

HE CAN SEE YOUU AUUHHGHGH (roblox death noises). You’re good at it!! Same shit she said to him earlier!! Hell scape!! Burning !! flames!! Flames on the side of my face!!

—sy sounds like—

MONUMENTAL ONE BED SCENE— Need SquidInk to recreate this rn with their Holiday Inn room. Who am I ordering, I’m the writer? 100% Carmen would say I would get fucking stabbed if I let a pretty girl sleep on the couch. That’s him. That’s him at his most romantic man. NO!!

I MISS THESE MOMENTS TOO MAN I’m looking into eye tattoos of dynamics and memories as we speak I’ll let you know when I find out. I HAVE TO GO PUT MY LAUNDRY IN THE DRYER BUT I WILL FIRST SEND THIS OUT AND GO OVER THE WONDERFUL MEMES YOU SENT IN THE NEXT ONE!!

#yapping #ask #extensive yapping #Pretty Bolting Down Booths #popcornpoppin

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quidam-sirenae · 10 months

Text

The texts I will not be sending to my roommates because I’m an adult with self control to not be an asshole (god I hope I don’t send these that’s why they’re being posted on tumblr)

1. You may notice that we have a garbage disposal. The garbage disposal is one one side of the sink. Shockingly, this is not the side you bastards have been pouring food into.

2. If you drop an entire onion ring on the floor it’s really not that hard to pick it the fuck up.

3. This is my kitchen now. If you can’t put away your dishes I will be going through your cabinets and putting those dishes away myself. You have been warned. If your dish is in the wrong place I don’t give a fuck put it away yourself.

4. Turn the goddamn oven off I have adhd too I forgot this too but I unlike everyone else in this house am paying for my own electricity. I don’t want a four hundred dollar bill.

5. God FUCKING damn it why is the garbage disposal making metal on metal sounds. It’s not supposed to do that. Stick your hand in there and pull the spoon out and if you’re lucky I wont start the disposal on you.

6. You can throw away your own rotten milk or I’ll do it. Your choice.

7. Candles are not a substitution for hygiene. This kitchen smells like a tigers ass, which I have never personally smelled but I can imagine it.

8. Can someone please fucking buy paper towels I’m the poorest one in this apartment I just need paper towels please guys.

9. I’m always heavily judging people for putting pots and pans in the dishwasher.

10. You can wash your own GODDAMN cutting board you’re an adult and I’m not your mama nor do I want to be. If I have to load the dishwasher every morning and empty it again myself when I get back for classes I’m going to snap and stab someone in the head. The least you can do is unclog the bathroom sink as I am aware I have claimed the kitchen as my own. I will clean the kitchen but please at the very least rinse your dishes before leaving them in the sink! Are you children? Are you fucking children? Can you not keep four feet of space reasonably clean? My ice cream keeps defrosting because you bastard Heathens leave the freezer door cracked open I am begging you please at least put your clean dishes that I washed away they’ve been sitting on the counter for a week and a half and I’m going to take all these spare knives and stab you in the neck if these dishes don’t get put the fuck away.

Anger vented. I’m going to go put peoples dishes on the wrong shelves.

#vent post

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soleadita · 2 years

Text

a love letter to abuela's kitchen (i'm very aggressively shoving myself out of my comfort zone by posting this snippet from something i've been working on, mostly to try to hold myself accountable for actually finishing it.)

Abuela’s kitchen is always warm.

Logically, this is because there’s no ceiling fan or AC, and the windows are in prime position to greedily soak up every last drop of sunlight the days have to give, and the gas stove, in use more often than not, generates a constant cloud of heat.

But if you consider things like spirit and metaphor and poetry—and Eddie does, sometimes—it’s at least in part because the kitchen is the living, breathing, beating heart of Abuela's home.

How could it not be? The tiled floors have hosted decades of Thanksgivings and Nochebuenas and Easters; the counters accommodate tamale-building assembly lines to the tune of laughter and chisme and light-hearted bickering. It’s where Abuela and Pepa gather Eddie and Chris—and Buck, now, more often than not—in huge, welcoming hugs; it’s where Eddie and Chris arrange pan dulces and flowers and cards twice a month each May.

Abuela’s kitchen is always warm, and this makes it nearly unbearable in the unrelenting summers; but this time of year, in the crisp April evenings, it’s the best place in the house. Tonight, it’s filled with tall pots of caldo and beans, pans of rice and sautéed vegetables, the rich scent of tomatoes and onions and garlic cooked down and blended together.

Eddie inhales. This. This is home.

Abuela and Chris have begun to set the table, and Eddie steps in to help. He’s used to being relegated to things like this; that’s what happens when you’re infamous for a lack of cooking skills. Meanwhile, Buck makes a beeline for the counter, where Pepa presides over a roaring blender full of tomatillos and chiles.

“Oh, Pepa,” he exclaims over the noise. He beams like a kid on Christmas Eve, and it's just so goddamn adorable. “You didn’t.”

Buck loves this salsa, which is precisely why Pepa and Abuela make it every time he’s over for dinner. Eddie’s half-convinced that Buck would drink it straight from the blender, no chips necessary, if he could. Like, if someone gave him an entire batch all for himself and then left the room immediately—yeah, Eddie could see that happening.

“It’s nothing, Buck,” Pepa says. Her tone is no-nonsense, as usual, but Eddie can see the smile she’s trying to hide. “Ya sabemos que es tu favorito.”

Buck peers into the blender. “You still need the avocado, no?”

“And the cilantro and limes,” she says. “Grab them from the fridge, chamaco.”

“You got it, jefa.”

Abuela and Chris bring a stack of plates and napkins to the table; Eddie follows close behind with glasses and silverware. Buck weaves around them, pausing to give one of Chris’s curls a gentle tug. Once he reaches the fridge, he’s in there for thirty seconds, tops. He knows exactly what he needs, and he knows exactly where it is.

Buck navigates the space with ease; Eddie’s proud of it.

“Can I help with the salsa, too?” Chris asks.

Eddie meets Buck’s eyes over Chris’s head. Buck raises a brow: Is that okay? Eddie grins and gives a slight nod. Of course it is. Well, as long as Abuela doesn't mind.

“You done with the table, Chris?” Eddie asks.

Abuela waves a hand. “Está bien, Eddito. Si quiere ayudar con la cena, déjalo.”

“Then get over here, Superman,” Buck says, brandishing a bunch of cilantro with a flourish. “Here, wash this and give it to Tía Pepa, okay? Then you can help me squeeze the limes.”

Chris accepts the task with endearing solemnity. Cilantro is delicate, and he handles the leaves like he knows exactly how fragile they are. His palms, his fingers—they’re so small, still. Eddie glances down at his own. Had they ever been so tiny? Had they ever been so gentle?

And then he remembers, with stunning, startling clarity, the summer after Abuelito’s death.

He’d been—what, eight? Abuela had been planning to move to LA soon to stay with Pepa, but until then, Eddie had spent every spare moment by her side. He’d followed her like a shadow, like a duckling, while she bustled around preparing hominy for posole, sifting through bowls of dry pinto beans, roasting tomatoes and chiles and onions on the comal.

Abuela had tucked him beneath her arm, kissed his forehead—and then, one day, she asked if he wanted to help.

That kitchen, tiny and sun-drenched, was the first place Eddie ever truly felt like he belonged. Soft and warm, dim lights and familiar foods. Gentle hands and gentle voices, and a blend of languages that wrapped around him like a fuzzy blanket.

It hadn’t lasted long; Papi hadn't liked it, had told Mom, when he thought Eddie wasn’t listening, that it would make Eddie soft. Eddie had thought about the worn blue threads of his favorite blanket, Mom’s palm on his forehead when he had a fever. He’d thought about digging his fingers into a bowl of masa as Abuela and his tias rolled little balls and pressed them into tortillas.

Papi’s whispers had been jagged, harsh, like he was pushing his words out around shards of glass; but, back then, soft had sounded like a good thing to Eddie.

There’s a hand on his forearm; he jumps, startled.

“Eddie,” Buck says, low enough for just the two of them. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, and he means it, too, except his voice cracks, and when he swallows, he tastes tears. He tries again. “I’m really okay. Just – thinking, I guess. Happy.” He gestures to Chris, still holding the cilantro with reverence. “I mean, look at him.”

“He’s pretty amazing,” Buck agrees. He glances sideways, like he thinks full-on eye contact will make Eddie spook or something. “His dad’s pretty amazing, too.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, but doesn’t dare say. Right back at you.

“Buck, the limes!” Chris calls.

“Be right there, bud,” Buck says. He turns to Eddie and squeezes his shoulder. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay,” Eddie repeats.

And he is. He is okay. The thing that paces and jitters behind his ribcage, settling heavy on his shoulders, swirling around inside his head—it calms, here. There’s something about the contentment in Pepa’s good-natured protests when Buck juggles the limes before depositing them on the cutting board, and the peace in Abuela’s soft smiles, and the joy in Chris’s pure delight at squeezing juice into the blender.

When dinner is over and the room has emptied, Eddie will step in and wash the dishes, the pots, the pans. He’ll pull out the plastic tupperwares and put the leftovers away while Abuela makes coffee. For now, four of his favorite people in the entire world are here, loving each other; what else is there for him to say?

Eddie leans back, gives his entire weight to the doorway, and the kitchen holds him up.

#pepa diaz #isabel diaz #christopher diaz #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911fic #leo.writes #tw food mentions

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redflagsandbanners · 2 years

Text

#Ronancetober _ Day 4

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: graphic horror themes, murder, description of injury, romanticisation of cannibalism || Minors do not interact ||

Nancy steps through the front door with a deep sigh of relief. The days have been getting warmer, but the house's entrance hall is so very perfectly chilly as if the marble floor tiles refuse to let go of winter's temperature.

From the depths of the house, soft music drifts over the high walls and the scent of cooking food is drifting to Nancy’s nose where she shreds her suit jacket by the doorway; a lovely welcome home; a giveaway Robin is already in the kitchen.

Patting of her heels, lowering down her briefcase, Nancy walks through the big house with a soft hum in her throat, following the scent and music to the center of the building. A contained mess is happening on the surfaces left and right; a house lived in, a house loved. Almost perfectly so.

Robin stands with her back to the kitchen's entrance, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair pulled up on the top of her head in a tight bun. Her shoulders are bowing over the counter by the sink and her hands are moving with this uncharacteristic steadiness that only settles in the woman's motions when a kitchen knife is involved.

When Nancy wraps her arms around the woman's waist from behind, she sighs at the warmth. Robin doesn't jump, but the knife stops chopping the handful of fresh onions for a second. Right next to the cutting board, a bowl of mushrooms and a bowl of chopped carrots are lined up. A glass of white wine is carefully placed within reach.

Two pots are already steaming on the stove. The oven is turned on too; decent portions slowly being cooked in warm air and Robin's favorite ceramic tray. Fist shaped sizes of thick meat slowly melting around the center bone, securely tied in thinner slices meant to turn into lovely crispier parts. At the sight, Nancy's mouth is already watering.

Robin smells like onions and their bed, shampoo and lingering traces of morning coffee. She feels like their back porch and Sundays. She is slowly swaying in the music and in Nancy's embrace.

Her voice rasps so beautiful in the sounds of the kitchen, Nancy closes her eyes. "You're home early".

Nancy hums, nuzzling her face on her shoulder.

"Smells good in here".

She can feel Robin smile. The knife is let go, its stained blade glimmering in the noon's direct sunlight. Slowly, Robin turns around in her arms so they are facing one another. Arms wrap around Nancy's shoulders too, calculating fingers loosening the top buttons of her shirt.

"I do try", Robin says with soft eyes and Nancy damn nearly melts. "Hey there. My beautiful wife".

A shudder. Love squeezing her lungs tight. Even after years, hearing the name of endearment never gets old.

"Hi".

Robin leans in, presses a long kiss on her forehead. They pull away at the same time; Robin turning back to her onions, blue eyes flying to the analog clock on the wall to check the seconds lost, and Nancy moving around the center counter, picking up a glass of white wine as she goes. She sniffs at it, taking in the rich scent, a knot of the day's tension loosening from her shoulders.

A faint trace of lips is lingering on the edge of the glass and Nancy makes sure to press her own on the same spot to sip the strong liquor.

One their most expensive bottles. The ones they bring out the pantry when the previous night's hunt roughed Nancy up a bit too much. The ones they bring out when the dinner is to be called the Best of the goddamn month.

"How come you're here this early?"

Nancy hops on a stool, away from Robin's pots and bowls and skinned meat and chopped vegetables. "False fire alarm put us out of the building for half an hour. Ruined the whole flow of the day. I am still a bit tired from last night so I figured coming to work from here was the best option for today".

To Nancy's utter surprise, Robin lets go of the knife again. Her wife turns, grabs a towel and wipes her hands and forearms, circling around the counter to come stand in front of her.

"You know the drill. Let me see".

"Robin, I'm fine".

"Nah-uh. Shirt up".

Nancy sighs, putting the glass of wine on the counter and working on loosening the buttons of her vest, working on pulling the edge of the shirt out of the waistband of her pants. She lifts, until Robin can check the blooming bruises on her side.

"That fucking -"

"It doesn't matter, Robin".

"'Doesn't matter' my ass, Nancy".

"I'm alright. And he is currently smelling amazing".

Robin doesn't soften like Nanch had hopped. Instead, she leans closer to look at the purple marks. "Did you ice them?"

"I did".

"They don't look iced".

"I iced them. I'm fine, be thankful there aren't any scratches this time. Last ones have yet to close up".

Robin exhales a long sigh. Reaches with a slow, tender hand to brush over the darkening spots, caressing the horizontal scar of rough skin underneath them with her thumb.

Everything between them softens. Nancy tugs the woman down so she can properly kiss her and, carefully, Robin's hand presses harder over the bruises. They test how long it takes for Nancy to clench her jaw and grunt a low hiss against her lips, the revolting nip of teeth getting caught by another brush of Robin's nails on the punched muscles and bruised bones.

Nancy whimpers, jaw falling open as her face pinches tight at the sharp pain. Robin pulls back with a lazy smirk she cannot look away from.

"Do you want me to clean downstairs?"

"I want you to run a bath. Maybe take a nap until the food is ready. And then, I want you to eat well, lazy around the couch with me for an hour. And then, I want us to make coffee so we can both go back to work".

Nancy pulls her back in. "I love you".

Under her shirt, Robin caresses the scar on the side of Nancy's belly again; a genuine reply. Among all else, this is the most honest part of Nancy to be offered to this woman.

She reaches under Robin's hoodie too, finding warm skin and goosebumps raising, finding a matching scar there over where Robin's own kidney used to be.

"Don't try to distract me anymore, Wheeler. After he roughed you up like this I am damn nearly using magic tricks for him to be the best thing you've ever eaten. I mean..." - Robin wiggles both eyebrows - "...other than me".

Nudging her away, Nancy laughs, "Dork", and never wants to let her go. She brings her back in, by two fingers hooking on the elastic waistband of her sweatpants. "I don't think there's a thing better than you for me to taste".

#ronancetober #day four #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #stranger things fic #ronance #this is... restrained #i think #minors keep away #i swear to god

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