#since they have instant laundry things you really could wear the exact same thing every day of your life at all times. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unholyhelbig · 5 years

Note

Hosie "you keep stealing my clothes"

Title: Gnomes & Laundry

Word Count: 1129

AO3 Link

She didn’t notice it at first. It was something subtle like a mosquito bite or a dull ache after a long day on her feet. Hope never paid much mind to what she wore- because what she wore was always embedded in gold and blue. Always stamped with the crest of the Salvatore school. It was easy to misplace something when everyone had the same exact thing in their closets.

But when she started to circulate a couple of t-shirts (and on occasion a blazer that was telling of her brief foray with the Stallions debate team) she knew something was up. Maybe a mix up in the extensive laundry rooms. Hell, Hope even considered gnomes that got off on pilfering random objects that happened to take from in her wardrobe.

She breathed in a steady heaping of the soap-soaked air and frowned down at her half-empty basket of clothes. There was no stock in that saying about the half-drained glass. The way she saw it, she was losing clothes and whoever was stealing them was gaining something.

“Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t know someone else was in here.” A soft voice sounded from behind her. It made her skin prickled with heat. “I can… leave.”

Josie Saltzman was struggling with her own bag of unwashed clothes. They weighted her down from one side and her cheeks were reddened from the journey down here. The basement was cold, she wore a flannel that looked oddly familiar over a Stallions hoodie.

“No, it’s okay,” Hope said, offering up a sort of smile. “I’m just finishing up.”

“Oh, okay” Josie let out a breath of relief, walking towards the washing machine as Hope reached down and grabbed a pair of pants and another t-shirt from the dryer. She could feel Josie’s eyes flick to her every couple of seconds.

“Have you had any clothes go missing?” Hope shut the dryer with a small click.

“Huh? No-“Josie’s words rushed together. “I mean, not me personally but anyone could have sticky fingers around here. It’s a big school. Really big.”

Hope had let the conversation die and left Josie to it before she ascended the stairs to the old Salvatore school. It had always been extravagant and dark and gave her a good picture of the brothers who owned it before it was turned into what it was today. Still- she wished it was a little more up to date with a laundry room on the actual floors instead of what used to be an old wine cellar.

There was an instant warmth that enveloped her as soon as she walked down the hallway towards her room, laundry perched on her hip and thinly veiled discontent on her face. She set the basket down and went to open the door, pushing her way into the room.

A crimson and black flannel sat draped across the nicely made bed. Hope blew air out of her nose and picked up the piece of clothing. Gnomes, yeah, definitely gnomes.

The next time Hope noticed something missing, it was a sweatshirt. One that wasn’t marked with anything blue or yellow, instead it was a simple gray sweatshirt that had an embroidered M against the front. She had never understood her families need to brand everything- but when she stole it from her aunts closet one spring break, she couldn’t help but to sleep in it every night.

Tonight, when she started to rifle through her closet, she noticed it was gone. Admittedly she had stripped herself of it earlier in the day and left it on her closet floor. But she still expected it to be balled up in the corner where she had left it.

Hope let out a grunt of frustration and pulled the closet shut again, settling on pulling on a t-shirt and flopping down on her bed. These gnomes were going to get it, she decided right then and there, as soon as she saw them pilfering another item of her clothing, she was sure to drop kick one.

“Hope?”

She shot up quick enough to see stars in her eyes. That didn’t’ sound like a gnome. In fact, it sounded like Josie Saltzman. She stood, leaning against her doorframe with a guilty look on her soft features and something grey clenched between her fingers.

“I wanted to… I think this is yours?” She thrust her hand forward with the sweatshirt in it.

“Oh?” Hope stood and crossed the small expanse to meet Josie halfway. She sheepishly handed over the sweatshirt. “Where’d you find it?”

“I uh, I’m kind of the one that took it.”

“Oh,”

Her voice was less leaden that time. So, Josie was the one that had been lifting all of her clothes these last few months. Shrinking her wardrobe drastically. It was hard to feel any type of anger towards someone who looked so innocent. Someone who always seemed to color inside the lines no matter how hard Hope, or even Penelope, tried to lead the marker away.

Lizzie. Lizzie, she expected this from.

“I’m really sorry,” She rushed out in a breath. “You left your shirt the other month and I accidentally brought it up to my room and it was super comfy so I just kind of fell asleep in it. Then I took your flannel and promised I wouldn’t take anything else after that but then I saw your sweatshirt and-“

Josie took in a long heaping of air, Hope studying her “It’s really hard to sleep sometimes. And somehow… I don’t know, it just helped.”

Josie had been an insomniac since they were kids, but Hope hadn’t paid much mind to it before. She was fine for a long while, sleeping through most of the night if not to wake up just as the sun peaked over the horizon. Hope would struggle to sneak in late at night, all the while avoiding the third floorboard from the front door because it moaned. And Josie would always be sitting in the kitchen bathed in warm light. They had a silent agreement.

Hope realized she was still talking, taking her shoulders and squeezing them slightly. “Jo, it’s okay.”

“What?”

“I said it’s fine. I’m not mad.”

“you’re not?” Josie let her shoulders slump in relief as she stood up straighter. “Wait, why not? I physically stole something that’s yours.”

“mm, you’re not helping your case.” Hope let her hands fall to her sides. She grasped at the sweatshirt she had thrown onto the bed. “But in all honesty, you taking my sweatshirt is better than the alternative. If it helps you sleep, then you can wear it. Never hurts to have something comfortable around.”

Josie narrowed her eyes. “What was the alternative?”

Gnomes. “Don’t worry about it.”

#hope mikaelson #josie saltzman #hope x josie #Legacies #legacies fanfic #fluff #request #hosie #hosie fanfic

59 notes · View notes

godyoutalkpretty · 7 years

Text

More Bang than Bling

***Post Unleased. Very NSFW***

It’s the pin for a flash bang. It’s dirty, it’s rough metal, and it’s far too big. Still, Deeks can’t help twirling it around his finger. The dark Los Angeles streets whipped passed as Kensi drove them home, every now and again casting glances over at him, unable to wipe away the stupid happy grin that she knew was plastered to her face as she looked at her fiancé.

Fiancé.

It was weird. They’d been talking about it for months now; so many months that she had practically come to think of Deeks as her fiancé already. But now it was official. She and Deeks were officially engaged. There had been a proposal, someone had got down on one knee, there had been an acceptance. And sure, maybe it wasn’t the most romantic thing in the entire world, but there was something more… real about what had happened, more them.

They hadn’t told the others. Not yet. Sam hadn’t returned to the mission following the death of Tahir, instead going to find what remained of his family, and they had both agreed wordlessly that they weren’t going to mention their engagement. There was just something impolite and disrespectful to counter his grief with their happiness. Not that they actually expected anyone to not know about it. Nell had been there at the time, had witnessed the whole thing play out, and there was no way in hell that she wasn’t going to tell Eric the very instant the pair were alone together. And Hetty would know in her mysterious Hetty ways. And the chances of Callen not knowing was about as slim as Tahir terrorising them again.

“You know, I reckon I can pull this off,” Deeks said suddenly, spinning the pin around his finger again. He hadn’t taken his eyes off it for the last five minutes. “It’ll make a great anecdote. The only problem is, I’m worried that I’ll lose it.”

“It’s just a gesture, Deeks,” she said. “To make it official. We can get you an actual ring later.”

“You touch my ring and we’re finished,” he said. “That sounded different in my head, but the point stands. This is mine, given to me by you, and I’m not giving it up for love nor money.”

“Well, we can think of something.”

“Maybe I can wear it around my neck, on a chain or something?”

“But then how will everyone know you’re mine?”

“I’ll tell them. Constantly, and consistently.”

They shared a great grin, eyes sparkling with their love for each other.

A few moments later they arrived back at their home. Once inside, Deeks left Kensi to organise the bags of takeout in the living room while he disappeared into their bedroom. It took him a couple of minutes to find what he was looking for, in the back pocket of a pair of jeans at the bottom of the laundry hamper – and that was lucky, cause it could have been washed, again – before he returned to his new fiancé.

“Look, Monty,” he said, as the aged pooch padded along besides him, his tail wagging furiously, “that’s your new mommy.”

Kensi grinned at him. Then her eyes caught the closed fist at his side. “What you got there, baby?”

“Well,” he said, moving closer and holding his hand out towards her, “I’ve been walking around with this thing in my pocket for so long, it’s almost worn a hole in every pair of pants I wear. Now, it’s a bit more cliché than the one you got me, but it cost me a fair bit of money, and I think it’s time you actually wore it.”

He opened his hand. On the palm was the engagement ring he had tried to give her three times before already. Kensi gazed at it fondly.

“That really is a beautiful ring, Deeks,” she said.

“Gimme your hand,” he said. When she complied, he slipped it effortlessly onto her ring finger. She stared at it a moment, then reached up suddenly to grab him by the back and the head and pulled him into a deep kiss.

Together, they slunk down onto the coach, before Deeks broke the kiss. It had been the rumbling of his Kensi’s stomach that had prompted the break; they’d both had a long day, and his knew his fiancé well enough to know that food would always be a higher priority in her life that him. She smiled at him, and started doling out the Chinese food onto the white porcelain plates while he flicked on the TV. They ate in comfortable silence, watching the episode of The Bachelorette they had TiVo’d, and when they were done, Kensi rested her head against her shoulder, snuggling in against him with one hand comfortably on his chest.

And then it happened.

On the TV, an advert started to play. It was for an engagement ring. Kensi figured that it was only because of their new status that she noticed it, and noticed it properly. She’s probably seen it a hundred times before, but never really paid attention. Then she recognised the ring on the screen, and her eyes slowly tracked down to the new ring on her finger, recognising its twin.

“Deeks?” she said.

“Yeah?”

She looked up at him. “That’s my ring.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a simple smile on his lips.

The rest of the advert played out, with an explanation of what the ring meant. Love, friendship, trust. All the things she thought of whenever she thought about Deeks, and now she truly understood that he thought the exact same thing about her.

She reached up, pulling him into a kiss. It started off as a simple kiss, a pressing of lips together as they had so many times since they decided to go All In. But it didn’t stay that way for long. Passion built in Kensi, red hot, burning through every fibre of her body, and she pressed herself harder against Deeks’ frame. He responded in kind, returning the kiss with a fierceness that rivalled her own. She pressed the palms of her hands against his shoulders, pushing him back deeper into the couch so that she could climb onto his lap without breaking the kiss. She didn’t even hear Monty’s resigned whine as the mutt shuffled off to his bed. Deeks’ hands where in her hair, fingers twisting through the long strands, and she could feel the strength of his chest muscles under hers.

It wasn’t enough. She needed more. Her hands trailed down, finding the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up, revealing the tight abs underneath, the smooth skin blistering hot. She broke the kiss then, but only enough to haul the offending article of clothing over his head and fling it, forgotten, over the side of the couch. Then their mouths were together again, pressing hard, making soft moans slip from between them both.

Her hands roamed his chest and sides, exploring the strong muscles that bunched and danced under her touch. Then they were up higher, into his shaggy blond hair. His hands, for their part, danced up and down her spine, making shivers tingle in their wake, before they found the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off her. She moaned in frustration as he broke the kiss to fully remove it, and the very second she could, her hungry mouth found his again. She was barely aware when his deft fingers unclasped her bra, letting it fall fee and release her breasts.

“Kensi,” he moaned through the kiss, and she responded in kind.

Deeks. Her Deeks. He was her Deeks, now and forever. Even if fates tore them apart like they had with Sam and Michelle, he would forever have that place in her heart.

His hands moved, finding her breasts, squeezing them. She moaned, pulling back from the kiss, arching her spine away and he lowered his head to press his lips against her swell. He tried to twist, to move her so that she was on her back, but she fought him, keeping him pinned down where he was. Her hips began to move, back and forth, as she rubbed her crotch against his. She could feel him swelling inside his jeans, begging for release, and she rubbed herself harder against it. Deeks reached up, his hand on the back of her head, pulling her back into another kiss.

She ground on him, feeling wetness forming in her own crotch, a desperate burning need rising rapidly through her. She moaned, again and again, around the kiss. His hands curled around the curve of her ass, squeezing her, controlling her, making her move faster and faster. She broke the kiss, pressing her face against the crook of his neck, kissing there instead. Their bodies were as close as they could possibly be.

Well… almost.

“Pants off Deeks,” she moaned, her hands already reaching for his belt.

“And they say romance is dead,” he muttered.

“And you say that every time,” she responded. His belt was already undone, and she popped the buttons of his jeans, lowering the zipper. She scooted back, further down his thighs, then gripped the band of his jeans and his briefs, pulling them down. His erect cock rose, quivering with need and anticipation. She stood quickly, working on her own jeans, kicking off her boots and tossing the whole lot aside as he removed his. Then she was on him again, kissing him, rubbing the wet patch between her legs directly against his hardness.

She moaned his name again and again, while he whispered how beautiful she was in her ear. She smiled, kissed him, and bit his bottom lip hard. He moaned, chuckling softly, and she tugged against the lip. Then her hands went down between them, fingers curling against his cock. It pulsed under her touch, feeling like it was burning. Slowly, she guided the tip towards her pussy, resting it right against the entrance. She moaned deeply, then lowered herself down. He slid inside her, and she cried out as he filled her. Lower and lower she went until he had no more to give, until she was sat fully down on his lap again.

He felt so good in there, so right. Like him being inside her was a missing part of her that she hadn’t even realised she missed. If she could, she would have him inside her all the time. Work be damned, TV be damned, food be damned. Well… maybe not that last one.

“I love you Kensi,” he said, his breath husky.

She stared into those beautiful blue eyes, saw the love there, the lust, the desire. “I love you, Deeks,” she replied.

And then she began to move. Back and forth she moved her hips, rubbing the inside of her pussy against the hardness that filled it. She moaned as charges exploded against her body, pulsating out in waves of pleasure from her wet sex. Deeks sat back deeper into the couch, his firm hands resting against the suppleness of her ass. She rested her hands against the back support of the couch, locking her elbows as she supported herself, and rode him.

Faster and faster, harder and harder. Her long hair danced and swung in time to her movements. She sang his name with each breath, moaning as pleasure cascaded through her. Her pussy throbbed with ecstasy, throbbed seemingly in perfect time to the throb of his cock. She could feel the orgasm rising in the pit of her stomach, knew it was coming. She quickened her pace, grinding frantically against his raging manhood, desperate for release. It built, stronger and stronger, and she lost herself in the movement of her hips, hardly even able to breathe.

And then it burst over her, and she cried out as she came. White lights flared in her vision, as pure white bliss exploded within her core.

She collapsed atop Deeks, panting raggedly for air. Her whole body trembled from the strength of her orgasm, and she numbly kissed the small patch of skin on the side of his neck, the only part of him her lips could reach.

But Deeks was still inside her, still hard and still inside her, and when she moved, it made small waves of pleasure roll through her again. She lifted her head, finding his lips with hers once more. He needed release too, she could tell by the tightness of his body, and she resolved herself to give it to him. It was the least she could do. Besides, if she happened to give herself another too, well, she’d just have to accept that.

She began to buck on him again. He growled, deep in the back of his throat, and she giggled at the pure animal desire she heard there. Then her own desire took over, slowly blotting out everything but the need to grind herself again and again against the raging hardness that was her fiancé.

Deeks’ breath became laboured as Kensi rode him harder. In some small part of her, she realised her was getting closer too, and that only served to spur her on. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling herself chest to chest against him, rubbing herself against him at a furious rate. Then he grunted hard, her name spilling brokenly from his lips as he came. That knowledge burst through Kensi, triggering her own orgasm, another blistering white explosion of unadulterated paradise.

When it had finally subsided, she found that she was lying atop Deeks still. Both were panting like they’d run a marathon, and Kensi could feel soft tingles of aftereffects sparkle within every inch of her. With a great deal of effort she pulled herself up, and softly pressed her lips against his in a grateful kiss. Then, slowly and with a great many small reverberations of enjoyment inside her, she pulled Deeks now soft cock from inside her, and rolled over so she was sat on the couch at his side. She snuggled closer, resting her head against his broad chest and feeling the solid, rapid, throb of his racing heart.

They sat together in silence for a moment, both basking in the warmth of their joined orgasms and the other’s mere presence. His heart slowed to normal, and she could feel it match her own in her chest.

“So,” he said after what seemed like an age. “Did it feel any different as an engaged woman?”

She took a moment to reply, as she thought back at what had just happened. A soft smile played on the corners of her lips. “Mhm. Strangely more intense. How about as an engaged man?”

“Well, I don’t really have a lot of frame of reference, since unlike you I’ve never been engaged before.”

“Awww, you’re such a loser.”

“You’re the one who literally begged me to marry her, so what does that make you?”

“Brain damaged?”

He chuckled at her, and she lifted her face to his. They kissed again, soft and full of love. Then she rested her head down on his chest once more.

“Deeks?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to leave it a year until we actually get married.”

“Only if you promise to stay out of a coma.”

“Touché.”

#NCIS: LA #NCISLAedit #Densi #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #mine #fanfiction #so i finally finished this #it's been in my wip for months

83 notes · View notes

notesfromthepen · 6 years

Text

Gardens, Gangstas, And Freedom

This prison is different than the other joints I've been to.

Last year they started a garden club here. For ten dollars, you get a 10x10 foot plot of land, a bag full of seeds, and something productive to do in an otherwise meaningless existence. In order to be eligible for this club, you have to be a year ticket free (no disciplinary infractions), and that's about it. Well, other than a willingness to get dirty and do some work. Oh, and you have to donate ten pounds of your harvest to a local food pantry at the end of the season. Win-Win.

When I got here last year, I was still heavily affiliated, (if you know what I mean) and though I had been looking for my way out for sometime, I still had one foot in and one foot in the lotus position. Basically I was too busy being affiliated for extracurricular activities. A year ago my concerns were slightly heavier than watering plants and pulling weeds.

Well a lot has changed in the last year. None more important than finally cutting all ties of affiliation with any organization in here, well other than the notorious Garden Boyz!, that is. (No, but seriously; I have to watch what, I say. Everything is monitored) With my decision for complete independence secured, I was now free to do anything I wanted.

So, I signed up for the garden club.

I paid my ten dollars, and was assigned a 9x8 foot patch of dirt. My dirt. Sure I got shorted on the square footage, but this is prison: you rarely get what what's owed to you.

Most of the women in my life have dabbled in gardening, whether it was growing corn and squash on an empty plot of land in the neighborhood, or a couple of potted tomatoes plants on an apartment balcony. I however, have never grown anything, with the exception of a massive weed plant behind my parents house, and a laundry list of bad habits. So, since marijuana seeds and cigarettes weren't included in the brown paper bag, I had to begin my gardening career knowing next to nothing about growing these plants.

What they did give us in the paper bag was stuff like: head lettuce, white and red onion bulbs, pearl onions, carrots, cabbage, spinach, straight cucumbers, green peppers, banana peppers, beets, radishes, egg plant, zucchini, squash, beef steak and cherry tomatoes.

It was up to us to choose what we wanted to plant in our limited space; a twinge of freedom. But as all you Green Thumbs know, there's plenty to do before the seeds actually go into the ground.

Before we were allowed to enter the garden area, located in the center of the compound, we had to wait for the words: "Garden Club," to appear on our daily itinerary. I don't know what took them so long, but for weeks after signing up, and after being issued our plots, we were forced to sit, idly by, while the growable days of the season slipped past. The only people allowed in that fertile patch of land in the center of the prison were a handful of 'Yard Crew porters,' whose job it is to help manage all the gardening related duties. The Green Thumb Mafia.

Some of grizzled Garden Vets, from the previous year, told us rookies that before we could plant anything we still had things to do. We had to 'turn over' our plots, go on a search and destroy mission for grubs, root out the insurgent weeds, carpet bomb our soil with 'milky spore' to kill the locals, and finally we had to section off our plots with tiny wooden steaks and yarn.

With so much left to do before getting to the actual business of planting veggies, and with valuable time ticking away while we were held back by the rules of engagement, a few of us decided, in line with prison etiquette/corruption, to pay the bribe, proposed by one of the garden porters to start prepping our plots for us.

The going rate for the deluxe treatment was three dollars, which included all the preparations mentioned by the Garden Vets, plus some extra compost, and access to plants not included in our starter bags. All in all it cost me a bag of instant rice and two Ramen soups. Which left me a dollar short, but I assured our corrupt/opportunistic garden porter that I'd get him the other dollar at some point in the not so distant future. I figured 'two bucks' in food to get a jump on planting season was well worth it.

This was Pay to Play prison gardening.

Finally, we all got our Garden Club itineraries. The next day, armed with my MP3 player and a brown paper bag of bulbs and seeds, I marched out to war. But first, you have to stand in line at a tiny, sweltering, shack to get your uniform. Some poor garden porter slowly roasts to death while handing out the fluorescent vests we're forced to wear in the garden area, and any garden tools we might need.

Make it to the shack early enough and you'll get a decent vest. The best ones are made of a silky orange mesh, like a basketball or football jersey. They're light, loose, and comfortable. Show up too late and you'll be forced to wear one of the bright pink pull-over vests. These wiry torture devices are made of some sort of rubbery plastic, starched into a rigid square shape. It makes you look like some sort of cheaply dressed, flamboyantly gay, Halloween robot. Or you could just let your plants wither and die from dehydration. It's a hell of a choice, and I've often found myself lowering that abrasive pink contraption over my head for the sake of my garden.

I got my vest, (one of the good ones) and with the crumpled brown paper bag in hand, I headed to my garden; plot 72. Inside the bag were fifty white onion bulbs and the assortment of seeds that I would use to bring my garden to life. And in case I'd forgot that I was in prison, all of the seeds were tucked inside pieces of paper, origamied in the exact same way that heroin dealers fold up their dope. I doubt the tomatoes seeds at Home Depot look like packs of heroin, but what do I know?

With Bob Marley wailing his songs of redemption through my prison issued headphones, I got down in the dirt, and with a little help from my veteran friends, I started mapping out the plot, and planting the future.

I got the soil wet and pressed my thumb into the earth, every four inches, in four of the ‘straight-ish' lines I could muster. It was still too early in the season for the tomato and pepper plants, so I filled each thumb hole with a little white onion bulb. I drew two shallow lines with my index finger and sprinkled in the spinach seeds. I used the same technique to make a little rectangle of pearl onions and two rows of carrots. I planted a stash of beets in one of the corners to donate. I transplanted twenty pea plants along the border of my garden and I dropped four newly sprouted garlic cloves, that I scored as part of the bribe, next to the spinach. Before I left, I built a little lattice of yarn for the peas to climb and I watered the freshly planted seeds.

Crouched down, over my uneven patch of dirt, with music in my ears and mud under my nails, I breathed it all in before heading back to the shack to return my vest.

Walking back to my unit, as the sun was falling towards the horizon, I felt like I was floating. I mean, I literally felt like I was drifting away. My feet were coasting over the asphalt, and my head was up in the clouds. It took me a minute to realize what had rendered me immune to the effects of gravity: It was the first time in five years that I felt Freedom. I mean real Freedom.

In the middle of the prison, in my little patch of dirt, with no C.O.s hovering over my shoulder, or telling me what to do, without the sound of cell doors slamming shut and whipping open, without the cacophony of overcompensating voices, disgruntled and aggressive men, yelling at everything and nothing at all.

In this calm amongst the chaos.

I felt it.

Surrounded by garden plots, without a fence, a steel bar, or a single spiral of razor wire in sight, for the briefest of moments.

I felt it.

Just listening to music and playing in the dirt, after five years of confinement, I managed to touch the tail of Freedom. It had been so long, that I hardly recognized the feeling. A feeling so foreign and elusive it felt like a distant dream. A type of deja-vu.

But I felt it.

So every time I head back out, to a garden that grows taller and more colorful with each passing day, I'm searching for that feeling. In my little patch of dirt, where I use alchemy to bring sunlight and water to life, I'm chasing down deja-vu, I'm looking to float away, and I'm grasping at the tail of Freedom. Just listening to music and playing in the dirt.

___________________________________________________________________

OK, this isn't part of the piece, I just wanted to tell you what I've got growing in my plot now. It isn't enough for me to annoy my friends in here, with my gardening nerd-outs, I will now bore you all. Feel free to ignore this, unless you're interested in gardening, or bored out of you mind, or you get off on wasting your own time.

This is what I've got:

3x cherry tomatoes plants (about a foot tall)

2x beef steak tomatoes plants (1+ft tall) looking good and hearty! (What have I become?)

3x sugar plum tomatoes. They're babies, I just transplanted them a few days ago.

10x cucumbers. Four of them are getting close to flowering. The rest I just planted. I wanted to wait so I could plan on where to run the vines through.

8x banana pepper plants (small)

8x Bell pepper plants (small)

2x rows of spinach. I already grew and ate 2 rows, I pulled em out once they started flowering and replanted.

1x row of cilantro (had to pull strings to get these. I really wanted fresh cilantro)

1x row of mint.

50x white onions (I was over watering them for awhile)

40x red onions

3x red cabbage (large dinner plate size. gonna make stuffed cabbage!)

3x green cabbage (same)

15x Peas. They're only about a foot tall (everyone else's is 2-3 times the size.) I have 'Pea-size' envy?! but mine are already flowering and I've been eating pods)

2x rows of carrots (the stalks are about six inches)

4x Head lettuce (Can't wait to make lettuce wraps.)

3x garlic plants. (one didn't survive the transplant and the other three aren't really doing much. I think I was watering them too much originally. Most people's (those who have them) garlic are doing the same. I was hoping that they would do better, I was looking forward to fresh garlic.

5x eggplants

1x squash

A bunch of beets.

This will be the first time in five years that I'll be able to eat fresh vegetables. The lack of healthy food in here is one of the worst aspects of prison life. Being restricted to fifty dollars a month makes it impossible to buy healthy food on the commissary. I can't wait to be able to eat fresh fruits, vegetables, nuts, and cheese when I get out....oh god I miss real cheese!

0 notes