#cripps pink

[tickledpink1994]

Red delicious is actually my favorite to eat with a good sharp yellow cheddar. Otherwise though it's not very good though...

theres one right answer and then one REALLY wrong answer :)

[limeadeislife]

I think we should have brutal arguments on the Wikipedia talk page for "Apple" about which variety of apple gets featured in the infobox image. Kind of like the arguments they've apparently had about the image on "Human"

[arinrowan]

COSMIC CRISP IS AN OVERHYPED, TARTED UP FUJI APPLE

[sugolara]

𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝

Feat. Shota Aizawa x daughter! reader

An ongoing series.

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, Shota Aizawa and his eldest daughter must survive from the flesh eating monsters in hopes that Eri is still alive.

Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, cross-posted on ao3, wattpad, qoutev

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Included Characters: Eri, Hizashi Yamada, Nemuri Kayama, Toshinori Yagi, Hitoshi Shinso (love interest)

Inspired by, "The Walking Dead A Telltale Game Series"

playlist!

" Fresh Blood – Eels " Walk Among the Cobras, Pt. 1 – Dan Sartain " Leave Behind – Sarah Cripps " Hope Prevails – Jesper Kyd " When I Grow Up – First Aid Kit " Fight For Survival – Klergy " Snow – Lisa Hannigan " Aeon Ending – Dew Of Light " To Live A Life – First Aid Kit " Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode " Death Is Not the End – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds " How Low – Jose Gonzales " The Fear – Ben Howard " Carrion Flowers – Chelsea Wolfe " Kettering – The Antlers " Coxcomb Red – Songs: Ohia " Five Years – David Bowie " Hard As Nails – Peter Wolf Crier " Swept Inside – Future Islands " Killing Machine – Tony Crown " Harmonix – Surfer Blood " Stand By Me – Ki:Theory " M.T.M.E. – Alexandra Saviour " Audience No.2 – Autolux " Palace Of Montezuma – Grinderman " In The Water – Anadel " Two Birds – Regina Spektor " Clocks – Coldplay " The Great Gig in the Sky – Pink Floyd " I’ll Be Good – Jaymes Young " To The Bone – Mirel Wagner " I Ain’t The One – Spoon " Take Us Back – Alela Diane " Salty Seas – Devics " In The Pines (Oakland) – Fantastic Negrito " Waiting around to die – The Be Good Tanyas " Red Morning – Devics " Gun In My Hand – Dorothy " Be Good – Waxahatche " Clementine – Elliot Smith " World Undone – Calexico " Blood – Algiers " Especially Me - Low " Release Me - Corrina Repp " No Death - Mirel Wagner

table of contents:

Season 1: Episode 1: A new day Episode 2: I'll understand what you meant in a few long months Episode 3: Afraid Episode 4: Weak Episode 5: Quick and steady Episode 6: To live Episode 7: Just a little longer, my dear

Season 2: Episode 8: New beginnings Episode 9: Company Episode 10: Day something Episode 11: Bad news Episode 12: Check, check, check Episode 13: Fallen angel

Season 3: Episode 14: Little by little Episode 15: The feeling is nice Episode 16: Down below, where the sounds of growls will be the last you hear

To be continued...

Book one: Welcome To The New World Book two: To The One You Left Behind

[trappers-cloak]

The Buck and the Fox

Chapter 1 - The Shepard and the Angel

Chapter 1 of my ongoing fanfic, the Buck and the Fox.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x female oc, meet cute, introduction to my oc Diana Wegner.

word count: 2k

Diana Wegner

The sun was high enough - and hot enough -  that Diana had ditched her coat. The great green thing hung over the rump of Althea, bouncing as the pair trotted along. Pluto let out a small bark below, nipping at the heels of a dozen sheep along the hillside. The wind billowing through the trees wasn’t nearly enough to stave off the heat, but it swept the sweat from her brow. The surrounding grass was a bright green, peppered with reds and pinks and oranges, all the herbs dotting the Heartlands. Diana could hear no sound besides sheep bleating. That sound was a welcome one, and she sent a silent thanks to God that no human voices polluted her ears. 

A voracious reader as a child, Diana recalled poetry about hillsides like this. Emerson, Dickinson, even Shakespeare…she doubted they could imagine a moment this perfect. Something this devoid of a past. 

The gunshot was, as one would guess, unwelcome. 

All she had on hand was a repeater, a simple thing, slung across her shoulder. It would have to do as she took aim for the origin of the shot, somewhere up on the hill. Sure enough, two bandits rode above, aiming lower than she expected. She turned, and realized; they were here for the sheep. 

With a blast, she narrowly missed the closer of the two, a large man on an even larger horse. 

“Shit,” she muttered, reloading. What was the point of learning to shoot if she didn’t live long enough to use her skills?

 She fired again. This time, the shot grazed the fat man’s arm, and he cried out in pain. His stallion shrieked and began bucking him off, with limited success. 

Before Diana could load again, Althea stood and reared, kicking her front legs wildly. A gunshot sounded from the ground, and before she could blink, Diana was in the air. The impact of her back on the hill knocked the wind out of her, and before she could even collect herself, the other bandit was upon her. 

It’s amazing how time slows down in the heat of the moment. Even with her death imminent, Diana could make out the green kerchief around his neck. Green eyes, a scraggly beard. She knew this man, or this type of man, anywhere. 

The Irish accent gave him away. An O’Driscoll. 

“Well, miss, think the boss man will reconsider-” 

His words were cut off by a snarl as Pluto tackled him, barking and growling up a storm. 

Good boy. Diana was free from the O’Driscoll’s grasp, but her gun was out of reach. She fumbled around for a revolver, to no success. Pluto was still laying into the skinny Irishman, but the big one had regained his senses and had started towards her again. She was outnumbered, and had no choice. 

She took a deep breath, and screamed. 

The sound of galloping filled the air. She was done for. 

She screamed again. 

“HELP ME!”

Two gunshots fired, calculated, separated. Pow! Pow! But the galloping didn’t stop. And the sound was getting closer by the millisecond. She began to scramble to her feet, pulling out her last resort - a small switchblade that Cripps had given her the day he taught her how to hunt. She flicked the blade open and readied her hand, turning to her assailant. She wondered who she’d face first - the big one or the skinny one. 

It was neither.

“Woah… miss calm down, I ain’t gonna hurt’cha,” the man said, putting his hands up as he hopped down from his horse. 

“Then drop your gun,” Diana said. It was all she could think of. 

He tossed it to the side without a thought, and inched closer. She held out her lance knife, just the way Cripps taught her to. Her face was fixed in a snarl. 

“Ma’am, I ain’t gonna-”

“Did you shoot them?”

“What?”

“Did you shoot them?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Why?”

“Well shit, I guess I was tryna save you, but if you’d rather be in a casket, who am I to judge?” he answered, slyly. He had a deep accent, a country one. She couldn’t place it. 

Diana faltered for a moment, then said;

“You didn’t have to save me.”

“Well, it sure didn’t look like you were gonna do it yourself,” he countered. 

She shot him a glare, readying a comeback, but instead? Instead she burst out laughing. 

“Well, yes,” she said, between breaths, “I guess you’re right.” after a pause, she added, 

“well? Is a lady going to have to help herself to her feet?”

The man started, and extended his hand down. She grabbed it, noting the sheer number and strength of the callouses coating it, and together the pair lifted Diana to her feet. For a very brief moment, Diana was chest to chest with the cowboy - well, head to chest, given that he stood nearly a head above her in height. Two parts of Diana burned - her cheeks with a blush, and her ring finger with shame and a grim reminder. The moment was over as soon as it began. 

“Ahem…uh, thank you, sir,” she started, and sighed. “You saved my life. I owe you something for that at least.”

“Now, I don’t need anything, I was just bein-”

“Well at least a meal or a drink is in order!”

The man started again. “Ma’am, really, I-”

Diana sighed. “Please, mister, it's the least I can do. Plus,” she began, nodding over a few yards west, “I need your help. Those bandits must’ve gotten one of the sheep - look.'' Sure enough, a mound of white wool lay in the grass, the only sheep that had been lost in the raid. 

“Help me get that poor soul back to Cripps, and you’ll be paid for your time.”

The man sighed, knowing he’d lost the exchange. “Fine,” he said, dejected. As the pair lifted the wayward sheep onto Althea, Diana spoke up once more. 

“Thank you mister…”

“Morgan,” he paused. It looked like he was trying to remember what his name was. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Thank you, mister Morgan,” Diana said, and turned. “PLUTO!” she whistled. “ROUND ‘EM UP!”

Arthur Morgan

Dutch had told them in no uncertain terms to lie low. Besides making money, lying low was the top priority. So the O’Driscoll’s over on the hill should not have been his concern, and they weren’t until the bloodcurdling scream Arthur had heard from the middle of the herd of sheep. He may be trying to keep a low profile, but he wasn’t about to let some innocent shepard get herself killed. He imagined there would be some divine retribution for that, or some symbolism - something in his surrogate fathers’ books that would have damned him. 

Now this same shepherd was leading him to some reward he felt he couldn’t accept. He had given his full name, his real name, to this woman, and he felt like he was 13 again. Breaking all the rules. He didn’t lie low, he didn’t mind his business, he didn’t keep himself a secret. And what would he have to show for it? 

The smell of the stew pot hit him before he could see it. 

“Sit down, mister Morgan, stay as long as you’d like,” the woman said, hanging her coat on a hook attached to a beautiful cherry tree. She had taken him behind what must be the trading post at Emerald Ranch - a small building bedecked with animal heads, hides and antlers. The camp spot was a cozy one, with the campfire and a great bronze stew pot as its centerpiece. 

“Mr. Cripps is still working on the stew - the rest of the ranch hands are still tending to the sheep and the cows, but you can have first bowl once he’s done. He’ll be out any second.”

“Ma’am, I really don’t need any fo-” Arthur’s stomach growled mid sentence. He flushed, and the woman turned, and gave a slight chuckle. 

“Riiight.”

“Well,” Arthur continued, taking a seat, “then thank you for your hospitality, Miss…”

She finished for him. 

“Missus Diana Wegner. My husband owns this ranch. Forgive me for being blunt, Mister Morgan, but are you new around these parts?” She stuck out her hand, boldly. With purpose. A silver ring adorned it. 

He took it, shook it, and responded. 

“Yeah, well, my crew and I were workers in the north, and our factory got shut down, so we’re living in a camp near uh… Valentine?” he recited the story Hosea had told him. It was, to the old man’s credit, a great cover. 

“I’m sorry to hear. Were you stuck up in the Grizzlies when that storm hit?”

Arthur chuckled, despite the memory being, at best, an unpleasant one. “Yeah, we just got out of it a few weeks ago. Lot of folk are still trying to get back on their feet,” he said. 

“Well its a good thing you made it down here,” Diana replied. “I take it you’re doing the hunting then?” she gestured to the pelt on the back of Ares. “How much shot did that thing take?”

Arthur chuckled. “Not as much as you’d think. Damn thing nearly killed me. Apparently it’s some legendary bear - uncommon size.”

“You’ve got that right. Do you know how much that would be worth?”

Arthur shifted, uncomfortable. It would be just his luck to get robbed by the woman he saved. 

“Not sure…”

“Well, me neither, but Mr. Cripps would have a field day tanning that thing. If you’d be interested in selling it here, I’m sure you could work out a deal.”

Arthur paused, wondering if this was a good chance to strike up some work - legitimate work, for once. 

“If Mister…”

“Cripps,”

“Right. If Mr. Cripps buys this, would he buy other skins too, or…”

“Looking for employment, are we? And I thought men were all after something else!” Diana exclaimed. Arthur’s face felt hotter than hell itself. He could only imagine the shade of red it turned. 

“Well, I- maybe,” he admitted. “I don’t know. As long as it pays.”

“That we do. In money, food, goods, or any combination.”

The backdoor of the store burst open, and an old man with a scraggly salt-and-pepper beard stepped out, holding a basket of herbs and corn. 

“And we have the best of all three!” he exclaimed, sauntering over to the pair. “I couldn’t help but overhear the entire conversation, and your hunting skills would make an excellent contribution to Cripps-Wegner Trading Co!”

Diana sighed, and gestured towards the man. “Mister Cripps, Arthur Morgan. Arthur Morgan, Mister Cripps.” Before she could finish, Cripps was shaking Arthur’s hand with an enthusiasm he had only seen a few times before - and most of those times involved Sean and Karen, back before Sean got captured.

Before she could make any more introductions, a bell sounded, and Diana’s head whipped towards the big green house across the road. 

“Shit,” she muttered. “That’s dinner bell.” she turned again to Arthur, and held out her hand. He took it, not knowing whether to shake it or not. Dutch had taught him to kiss a woman’s hand when they gave it this way, but the wedding ring gave him considerable pause. 

“Thank you, Arthur, again. I owe you more than I can describe. Enjoy the stew, and let Cripps know if you have any availability.” as she spoke, she transformed - she did up her hair, tossed her hat aside, washed her hands and changed into ladies shoes seemingly before Arthur could blink. She went from a rancher to a society lady in less than a minute. He hoped she didn’t notice his stare. 

“Come back to Emerald Ranch soon, mister Morgan. Our saloon is closed and it mostly smells of sheep shit, but I’m sure you’ll find something here to your liking.” she turned, and after a few steps, shouted over her shoulder. “Mister Cripps! Save that sheep hide. I have a plan for it.” And she was off. 

There was a pregnant silence between her departure and the voice of Mr. Cripps. 

“So, mister Morgan,” he began, “are you gonna continue to make googly eyes at Missus Wegner or are you going to have some mutton?”

[cryptablog]

[netherzon]

A shameless snippet post from Apfelkuchen or Apple Pie because I got distracted this morning and have spent the whole day rereading a bunch of my favorite GerAme fics, so here’s one of my favorite parts of the only finished fic I’ve published for them cause I just love them a lot

~

“We’re going apple picking this afternoon, and then we’re gonna make apple pie, real apple pie.”

This did nothing to change Germany’s frown. “You want to go apple picking right now? While we’re wearing suits?”

“People go apple picking in suits all the time!” America replied cheerfully. His smile did not falter for even a moment under the weight of Germany’s incredulity.

“I’m quite sure that’s not true, America.”

“Have you gone apple picking a lot in these parts? How would you know? Maybe that’s just how we do it at my place,” America replied, his smile slightly more mischievous now.

Germany hoped his face showed as much skepticism as he felt.

“I’m telling you Germany, apple picking is a formal affair. You’re expected to wear your Sunday best,” America insisted.

A dubious Mmhmm was the only acknowledgement Germany gave him. He’s not going to back down, and time will prove one of us right anyway. Probably me.

~

They were the only two people wearing suits when they got to the orchard.

Germany turned to America, shaking his head a little. “Why do you bother lying when you know the truth will come out so soon after?” he asked, with a tone similar to the one he used whenever Berlitz would try to use her paws to open the refrigerator, even though he knew, and she knew that she didn’t have the necessary opposable thumbs.

“I wasn’t lyin, we just happened to come on Casual Friday ‘s all,” America replied. His smile was pure mischief now. He even winked. Germany refused to dignify this with a response.

America shucked off his suit jacket and tie, and elbowed him lightly. “Come on, you know we wouldn’t have made it in time if we had to change first, and this is too important to miss. Lookin silly for an hour is a small price to pay if ya ask me,” he said breezily while he moved to grab some bags for them.

Germany accepted this in silence. They had narrowly missed the worst of rush hour on the drive out, so he was probably right about that detail. Whether the funny looks they got from all the families here would be worth it remained to be seen, but he realized he was slightly grateful he wasn’t alone in being out of place. America had clearly been planning this outing, but he hadn’t brought a change of clothes for himself either, earning him just as many funny looks as Germany got. Was that on purpose so I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious, or did he just not think of it beforehand, Germany wondered.

Most nations wouldn’t even ask that question, having already written off America as an unprepared fool. Germany knew better than that, though. America was as capable of being thoughtful as often as he acted without thinking. The two possibilities were equally likely.

Germany removed his suit jacket and tie also, and turned to follow America into the rows of trees.

The orchard was bigger than Germany had originally realized, with neat rows of more apple varieties than he could count growing together. Each row had a sign at the beginning giving the name of the apple. Red Delicious, MacIntosh, Gala, Cripps Pink Lady, Golden Delicious. His mental list kept growing the deeper they went into the organized forest. At first he had thought they were only walking in because the first rows of trees must have been picked by other visitors already. All of the trees they passed at the first edge looked almost barren at this point in the season. Obviously they wouldn’t find anything there. Eventually though, Germany spied a large, spotless apple in a tree to his left, high enough that children had been unable to reach it, but not high enough to prevent him from plucking it.

Before he had the chance to grab it, America stepped in front of him, both arms out like he wanted to shield the tree from view.

“Not that one,” America declared firmly.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Germany asked.

“That’s a Fuji tree,” America replied, like this should explain absolutely everything.

“What?” was all Germany could say in response.

In a sudden role reversal, America was the one sighing with exasperation. “We don’t want Fujis for our pie, the filling will be too soft then,” he stated definitively. “We’re looking for the Cortland section for texture, and then a couple Granny Smiths to add a little tanginess, but not too many of those either cause then the whole thing will be sour,” he explained, with the seriousness of someone relaying the alchemical recipe for turning lead into gold.

It was extremely odd for Germany to be lectured on something by America, but he decided to let him have this one. Germany didn’t have as much experience baking with apples ---he was more likely to use plums--- and he could only remember seeing the Pink Lady variety at home. The others were unfamiliar to him, so America probably did know more about which ones to use in pie.

Now that the instructions were more clear, Germany suggested they split up to locate the Cortland section more quickly. When they found it they worked each from one end of a row collecting apples before they would meet in the middle and then move to the next row. It was an efficient system, or it should have been if they both agreed on the appropriate lengths to go to for the perfect apple.

“America, really, your shoes have no traction. I don’t want you to slip and break your neck. What will I tell the paramedics when you pop back up twenty minutes later?”

Instead of taking Germany’s sage warning as he had intended, and deciding not to climb the tree, America took this as a suggestion that he just climb the tree without shoes.

Germany cringed watching how dirty America’s socks got, and the bits of moss he collected on the knees of his pants and the arms of his shirt. They would probably stain.

America did not fall and break his neck though, and when he jumped down clutching the apple firmly and smiling at Germany with unabashed pride over such a small achievement, he had to admit it was a pretty nice apple, and maybe Germany had smiled back at him fondly.

[cheekedupwhiteboy]

PULLMAN, Wash. — Washington State University’s newest apple variety, WA 64, is a sweet, tart, firmly crisp hybrid of Honeycrisp and Cripps Pink [...]

Officially released for commercial licensing this summer, WA 64 is expected to reach stores in 2029.

This is going to be fucking crazy

[homestylealchemy]

Apple Cinnamon Cheesecake

Type your email… Subscribe It is finally apple season! I am typically mesmerized by the abundance of apple varieties available at my local market. I prefer some good heirloom varieties such as Sweet Bough, Grimes Golden, and Duchess of Oldenburg. However, my favorite commercially available apple is the Cripps Pink. I use any of these apples to create one of my favorite cheesecakes: Apple…

[t-jfh]

The aurora australis captured over Hobart's Tasman Bridge.

(Photo supplied: Scott Glyph)

Robin Moon flew from Sydney to Tasmania to capture the aurora australis.

(Photo supplied: Robin Moon)

Mount Barker in the Adelaide Hills.

(Photo supplied: Patrick Wynne)

Bruny Island, Tasmania.

(Photo supplied: Benjamin Convery)

A RFDS pilot's view of aurora australis over Spencer Gulf, South Australia, on Saturday morning.

(Photo supplied: Royal Flying Doctor Service / Eddie Fargher)

The Tessellated Pavement at Eaglehawk Neck, Tasmania.

(Photo supplied: Jordan Cripps)

Aurora australis and borealis, caused by geomagnetic storms, put on another show

The geomagnetic storm has turned on another light show, with aurora australis and borealis dancing across the night skies in the southern and northern hemispheres.

Amateur and professional photographers flocked to beaches and other vantage points to capture the spectacular colours. Many commented they had never before seen anything like it.

ABC News - 12 May 2024

•

•

A long exposure photograph with the northern lights glowing in the night sky above the village of Daillens, Switzerland.

(Photo: Keystone / Laurent Gillieron via AP)

The aurora australis over Port Arthur, Tasmania, on Saturday morning.

(Photo supplied: Jules Witek Photography / Port Arthur Historical Society)

What are geomagnetic storms and why do they produce the aurora australis and borealis?

Flares and coronal ejections shooting off from the Sun's surface struck the Earth overnight, causing a severe geomagnetic storm.

It was the strongest such event in about 20 years, leading to stunning aurora australis light displays in skies across southern parts of Australia and the southern hemisphere.

People in the northern hemisphere also saw and photographed stunning images of pink, red, green and violet skies brought on by the aurora borealis early on Saturday morning.

The solar event is predicted to continue over the weekend, bringing more bright aurora light shows with it.

But what are geomagnetic storms exactly, and how do they produce auroras?

By Basel Hindeleh, Loretta Lohberger and wires

ABC News - 11 May 2024

•

[twoblackcats-com-blog]

englands glory by Dave Binyon Via Flickr: vote today Max Wall (Ian Dury cover) - Englands Glory. www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJdR1H5nfks Ian Dury ------------------------------ (spoken intro.) This one's for Julie, who we love I love her almost as I do Alma But we don't do Alma no more It's called? England's Glory'. if you wanna sing Please sing There are jewels in the crown of England's glory And every jewel shines a thousand ways Frankie Howerd, Noël Coward and garden gnomes Frankie Vaughan, Kenneth Horne, Sherlock Holmes Monty, Biggles and Old King Cole In the pink or on the dole Oliver Twist and Long John Silver Captain Cook and Nelly Dean Enid Blyton, Gilbert Harding Malcolm Sargeant, Graham Greene (Graham Greene) All the jewels in the crown of England's glory Too numerous to mention, but a few And every one could tell a different story And show old England's glory something new Nice bit of kipper and Jack the Ripper and Upton Park Gracie, Cilla, Maxy Miller, Petula Clark Winkles, Woodbines, Walnut Whips Vera Lynn and Stafford Cripps Lady Chatterley, Muffin the Mule Winston Churchill, Robin Hood Beatrix Potter, Baden-Powell Beecham's powders, Yorkshire pud (Yorkshire pud) With Billy Bunter, Jane Austen Reg Hampton, George Formby Billy Fury, Little Titch Uncle Mac, Mr. Pastry and all Uncle mac, Mr. Patry and all allright england? g'wan england oh england All the jewels in the crown of England's glory Too numerous to mention, but a few And every one could tell a different story And show old England's glory something new Somerset Maugham, Top Of The Form with the Boys' Brigade Mortimer Wheeler, Christine Keeler and the Board of Trade Henry Cooper, wakey wakey, England's labour Standard Vanguard, spotted dick, England's workers England's glory

[spock-buys-houses]

Cripps pink apples are the most delicious way to eat something that tastes exactly like soap

[w3apon0fchoice]

me too woahh!!! my favorite type is a cripps pink/pink lady apple!! what’s yours? ^_^

what is your favorite fruit??? also you’re super cool

Aww this is soooo sweet of you! ♥♥♥

And apples are my favourite fruit. :3

[pepperhatter]

🍎apples🍏

[iwantthedean]

A New Fall

Graphic courtesy of @atc74.

Part Six: Cripps Pink. Brisk, autumn nights. 

Summary: The Fall Festival continues.    Pairing: Jensen x Reader Word Count: 2409 Warnings: Set post-Season 15, which I know makes a lot of people sad to think about.  Square Filled: This entire series will fill my proposal square for BTZ Bingo.

A/N: Thank you for the continued support! I am loving writing this series :) Enjoy this fluffy chapter! Thank you to @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ who let me use her requested drabble prompt for this (bolded), and @atc74​ who helped me pick a song for the moment ... don’t want to give to much away, but you’ll know it when it comes.  

Masterlist

Friday afternoon went about the same as Thursday, except now Jensen was more comfortable with the register. The two of you sat behind the counter, making small talk and joking like you were old pals. It was a comfortable familiarity that made you like him even more.

Ms. Kitty would trade out with the two of you sometimes, give you the chance to mingle with other patrons of the festival. Some of them were local, some had traveled from places like Boston and Providence.

Towards the early evening, Stephen came in to close The Farmer’s Stand for the day. Normally the market would have stayed open later, but on the festival weekend, it gave everyone the chance to enjoy the festivities. Tonight was the chili cook-off. With Ms. Kitty’s blessing, you and Jensen walked from The Farmer’s Stand over to the main square, where tables were all set up. Each cook stood behind their table, offering bowls of chili scooped from deep pots or huge crockpots.

“So, I normally walk around and check out all of them, then decide which one I want to eat,” you informed Jensen. “Not a big fan of the spicy stuff, so I stay away from those. How about you?”

Jensen puffed out his chest. “Oh, bring on the spice! The spicier the better!”

“Oh, really, Mister?” You challenged him with your brow raised. “Okay. Come on then, let’s go see the Randalls table. You’ll smell their chili from a few feet away.”

The closer the two of you got to the Randalls’ table, the more nervous Jensen looked. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He had tried to act all macho, and now you were calling his bluff. You couldn’t wait to see how this turned out.

“Hey, Genita,” you greeted the wife. “This is Jensen, he’s new in town. He says he likes spicy.”

“Well, you came to the right place then, darlin’.” Genita reached for a plastic spoon and a Dixie cup to scoop out a sample for Jensen.

He looked like he was going to be sick before the spoon and cup were even in his hand. You hurried to pull up the video feature on your phone. Jensen took a generous bite of the sample, and seemed okay -- for about a second and a half. He threw the cup and spoon into the nearby bin, cough and sputtered as he swallowed down the chili, then accepted the beer from Ray, Genita’s husband. He chugged down half the bottle before he took another breath.

“How ya feelin’, tiger?” you teased, still pointing the camera at him.

Jensen’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, you are not videoing this!”

“Oh yes I am!” you laughed.

Your laughter grew deeper and the phone fell away when Jensen attacked you with his free arm wrapped around you and tickling your side. You shrieked and squealed, begging him to stop. Finally, you managed to grab the beer can from him and finish off a good portion of the rest of it.

“Hey!” he said, taking it back and finishing it off. “Can’t believe you.”

“Can’t you?” you smiled, finding your phone and tucking it into your back pocket.

The two of you grinned up at each other as you walked with him over to the table of the family that usually made your favorite chili.

* * * * *

Jensen couldn’t get to The Farmer’s Stand fast enough Saturday morning. He hadn’t wanted to leave Y/N’s side the night before when they parted from the square, but the hotel was in the opposite direction of the The Farmer’s Stand where she had left her car. Today, they would spend the morning at the market, then go back to the farm until the carnival that evening. He was looking forward to seeing visitors react to the activities on the farm for the first time -- and seeing Y/N interact with all of them.

“Y/N called this morning, she’s running late -- they needed a little more help setting the final details. Although, by ‘they needed help’, I assume she means she really wanted things perfect for her last Fall Festival there.” Ms. Kitty’s face smiled, but her tone held a note of sadness. “Jensen, dear, I need more price stickers, and there’s some on the desk in the office. Do you mind grabbing them for me?”

“Sure, can do.”

He went into the office and stood behind the desk. The price stickers probably should have been right in view, but he was having trouble spotting them. A manila folder with Y/N’s family name on it caught his eye; he picked it up and glanced through the papers in it.

Months of inventory were recorded on print-outs, and in two columns. It looked like the same month in both columns, but the numbers were different in one column. Jensen frowned; before he could look further into it, Kitty stuck her head in the back.

“Find ‘em?”

Jensen put the folder down and gave the desk another once-over. The price stickers were right there; he wasn’t sure how he had missed them in the first place. He held them up for Kitty and went back out to join her in waiting for Y/N.

* * * * *

You watched from the porch as the last family left, smiling with their bag of apples, and the kids hefting their carefully selected pumpkins into the car. The farm had been bustling all afternoon; you realized how much you were really going to miss this. Sure, there was nothing that said you couldn’t visit the farm once you picked an offer and sold it. It just wouldn’t be the same.

Jensen jogged up the steps to stand next to you. “Been a good afternoon. It’s amazing, watching all these people, come and go.”

You nodded. You had enjoyed spending all of this time with him, but in that moment, already missing what wasn’t even gone yet, you wanted him as far away as possible.

“Going to the carnival tonight?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Probably.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see that he was chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you wanna ride to the market with me, then we can walk over to the square?”

With a deep breath, you turned to face him. You opened your mouth to tell him exactly what was on your mind, but you chickened out, in the end.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap. I’ll see you there, maybe.”

You gave him a tight smile, then went into the house to indeed take that nap and, hopefully, sleep away all of your negative feelings.

* * * * *

When you woke up, you showered off the sweat from the hard couple of hours of sleep. You put yourself together, all the while debating whether you even wanted to go to the carnival or not. People were expecting to see you though, and you couldn’t stand the thought of letting down anyone else.

You wore an off-the-shoulder, comfy sweater, your favorite pair of jeans with the hole in the knee, and a pair of brown lace up boots. You went with your usual curled hair and pretty makeup, then left the house. You parked your car at the market, then walked the way to the square on your own.

A lot of the carnival-goers had been at the farm that day, and they greeted you with a wave. Most of the locals greeted you by name; your heart broke a little more. Would you always be the girl who almost was if you stayed in Attleboro? Maybe sticking around wasn’t such a great idea.

You let go of the thought for now and approached the funnel cake truck. After receiving your snack, you found an open table and took a seat. While you tore pieces away from the sweet, fried food, you watched people walk back and forth. These were your people; your world. Leaving it seemed unimaginable, up until now.

“Hey. I picked this up. Not specifically for you, you know, but if you want it, you can have it.”

You turned toward Jensen where he had slid onto the bench next to you. With a deep breath and a quick decision, you decided not to be harsh. You allowed yourself a half-smile as you took the small bouquet of black-eyed susans from him.

“They’re pretty.”

His smile reflected his relief. “I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing too hard, Y/N. I love being in this town, and learning about the farm and everything you do around here. I’m excited but I know you probably aren’t. So, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize, Jensen. I know it’s not personal. It’s just -- that farm is my whole life. Every memory I have, where I lived with my grandparents and my dad up until they passed away and my dad moved to the Midwest. I know it’s time to let go, I’m having a hard time with it is all.”

“Don’t apologize, either.”

“Okay.” You got up to drop your empty plate into a trash bin. You returned with only the flowers in your hand. “What now, Mr. Ackles?”

Jensen offered his elbow. “Dance with me, Y/N.”

More than a little nervous, but remembering that you couldn’t hold him responsible for your personal problems, you tucked your hand into the crook of his arm and let him lead you to the dance floor in the middle of the square. A few couples were already out there dancing, and the two of you fell in line with the rest of them.

Despite your hesitancy, you felt nothing but butterflies when he put one arm around your waist and clasped your free hand with his. You set one arm over his shoulder, still holding tight to those flowers.

When holding your breath is safer than breathing

When letting go is braver than keeping

When innocent words turn to lies

And you can't hide by closing your eyes

The slow song started not long after the two of you started to move over the makeshift dance floor. You were so torn over the moment, and you needed to feel safe. Whether it was coincidence, or Jensen could sense your need for a life raft, he held you closer as you hugged tighter to him.

When pain is all that they offer

Like a kiss from the lips of monster

You know the famine so well, but never met the feast

And home is the belly of the beast

The ocean is wild and over your head

And the boat beneath you is sinking

Don't need room for your bags

Hope is all that you have

So say the Lord's prayer twice, hold your babies tight

Surely someone will reach out a hand

And show you a safe place to land

What the hell was it with moments like this? You needed a safe place to land, and here was this song playing while this man -- this man you hardly knew but wanted to know -- held you close and made you feel just as safe as you needed to feel. More than, even.

The longer the song went on, the tighter you held to Jensen. You still had a suspicion that he was only getting close to you because of the farm, but right now, in this moment, you weren’t going to think about that. You were only going to think about this man that you were attracted to -- hell, that you maybe were starting to care about -- and how much he seemed to wanted you back. When the song was over, Jensen made to move away from you, but you still held tight.

“Wait … don’t pull away. Not yet.”

Without question or hesitation, Jensen stayed right there with you, until you were ready to leave.

* * * * *

Jensen rode back to the farm with Y/N. They hadn’t even spoke about it, he just got in the car, and she seemed to agree that he should accompany her.

She seemed to be nervous as she let them into the house. Immediately going into the kitchen, Y/N took a glass vase from the cupboard and filled with water, then dropped the bouquet of flowers in. She set the vase in the middle of the table, then turned to him.

“Are you thirsty?”

Jensen shook his head. “No. I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

“How about I put on a pot of coffee and we can sit out back and talk? I was gonna sit out there by myself anyway, but the company would be nice.”

He agreed immediately. While the coffee brewed, she went upstairs to change. When she came back down, her hair was in a ponytail, she had exchanged her jeans for leggings, and her feet were bare.

By now, he knew where the coffee cups were. He poured a mug for each of them, and met her at the back slider. Y/N had an armful of blankets, and he could already see extra pillows on the two lounges on the patio.

For the next couple of hours, she told him more or less every memory she’d ever made on that farm. About her grandparents, about her father, about living in the house alone.

“Thank you for telling me all of this,” he said when she finally wrapped up her stories. “I hope I can do this place justice, if you decide to take my offer.”

Y/N drew in a breath and hugged the blanket tighter around herself. “I suppose I should make a decision soon. I just wish I knew who the other offer was coming from. I don’t know if they’d be as nice as you and let me stay through the holidays.”

Jensen pursed his lips. “You know, Y/N, my spending time with you -- yeah, it’s about the farm. I want to know how things are done. I don’t want to ruin any traditions or change things from the way you’ve done them. But I’m not hanging around so you’ll take my offer. When I came here to see the farm, I didn’t plan on you.”

Her smile was unmistakable. “I didn’t really plan on you, either. I guess that goes without saying. I’m not doing any of this so that you’ll keep me around or decide to pull your offer.”

“I know that.”

“Good. Glad we got all of that on the table.”

“Me too.” Jensen stood from the lounge and stretched. “It’s late. I should let you get to bed.”

Y/N stood too, the blanket still wrapped around her. She stood in front of him. “You could take my car back to the hotel, if you want. Or -- or you could stay. I’m not really in a mood to be alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. His eyes searched hers before he slipped one arm around her waist and let the other arm wrap around her shoulders. She tipped her head up to meet him halfway; when he pressed his lips to hers, Jensen felt, for the first time in a long time, that he was home.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Whole Shebang: @illisea​ @ashleymalfoy​ @busybee612​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @sherlock44​ @ravenesque​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @atc74​  @theplaidshirtmadness​  @blacktithe7​ @moonlessnight14​ @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian​ @smoothdogsgirl​  @melbrandes​  @xtina2191​ @spnbaby-67​ @emoryhemsworth​ @goldenolaf25​ @gabriels-trix​ @applesugar88​ @rainflowermoon​ @deansgirl215​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @calaofnoldor​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @chances-and-miracles​ @sandlee44​ @foxyjwls007​

Jack Attack: @tiffanycaruso​ @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​

Two for the Money: @jayankles​ @akshi8278​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @supernatural-jackles​ @adoptdontshoppets​

A New Fall: @marilynnlew​ @backseat-of-deans-67chevy​ @traceyaudette​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @maddiepants​ @littlewhiterose​ @tftumblin​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @pinknerdpanda​ @thatgirl1456​ @deangirl7695​ @woodworthti666​ @writtingrose​ @flamencodiva​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @cap-just-said-language​ @xstephxo​