#we got the pumpkins together on Saturday at a farmers market

[soothifying-sounds-asmr]

on Thursday I'm grabbing all-you-can-eat sushi after work with a guy and then we're carving pumpkins and watching over the garden wall. happy autumn besties!

[saturnseighthringg]

Day 15: Blue Skies and Apple Pies

A couple days late and a few dollars short, but here we are!

Cas drags Dean to the local farmers market and they have a sweet ass day.

Rating: G || Word Count: 873

A bunch of fluffing fluff is what this is... short and sweet as candy.

Read on AO3

“Dean I’m headed out!” Sam calls from the garage.

“Yea!” He calls back, feeling a little giddy at having the bunker to himself. With Cas. He wraps his arms around the ex angel from behind, dropping his head next to Cas’ ear. “So, what are we doing today, Angel?” He pretends to ponder for a few seconds before speaking again. “Cus, I have a few ideas.” He says suggestively.

Cas snorts. “Dean.” Cas says sweetly and Dean’s hopes are already dashed. That’s Cas’ I want something voice and truth be told, Dean was glad Sammy wasn’t around to see this because Dean was powerless to whatever was about to come out of his angel’s mouth. “It’s a beautiful day outside.” Cas says with a lot of emphasis.

Dean frowns even though Cas can’t see. “Yea, I suppose it is. I haven’t checked actually.”

“I have.” He says resolutely. “Do you remember what you promised for the next beautiful day that fell on a Saturday?” It was Saturday? Dean needs to keep track of the days better.

“Uh…” His brains scrambles to remember what he certainly promised to Cas. It’s a problem because Dean promises a lot of things to Cas. Usually without thinking it through.

“You promised we could go to the farmers market on the outskirts of the town.” He reaches his arm up to touch Dean’s head in a sweet way. Dean feels himself sag immediately, groaning internally like a toddler who didn’t get his way.

“I don’t wanna leave.” He whines, resting his face on Cas’ shoulder. It doesn’t last long.

Cas turns abruptly in his arms, fixing both hands to Dean’s face, holding him completely still. He looks like he’s about to argue, but suddenly the fight leaves him. “Its okay.” He says simply. “I won’t force you to do something you don’t want.” It’s said without malice and Cas definitely means it. It’s still a punch to the gut.

Guilt floods him immediately. He knocks his forehead against Cas’ and pulls Cas’ hands from his face to hold them. “I’m being a jerk, I’m sorry. Of course we can go.” He pulls back and the smile that graces his face is genuine. “I’m a man of my word, if anything.”

Cas smiles back and it’s like a flame ignites inside his chest. Well, re-ignites. His chest has been bursting since he and Cas finally got together months ago. He was determined to give his angel anything and everything he could. And taking him to the farmers market was just another opportunity to prove it.

The Lebanon farmers market is modest, without being too small. There’s a decent crowd and a decent amount of booths. There’s also a small pumpkin patch somebody set up for kids to run around in. Cas points out all of this to Dean even though Dean can clearly see it. It makes him laugh, full of affection.

Cas had been right. It was a gorgeous fall day. Blue sky stretched for miles and the temperature was literally perfect to walk around in Dean’s usual get-up of flannel and jeans. The air felt crisp as he breathed it in and Dean was suddenly really glad Cas had suggested this.

They go to every booth. Cas makes sure of it. “You never know what you might find.” Cas shrugs at him. So far, they’d found a vendor selling fresh honey; Cas had bought two jars, another selling hand made scented soaps; “Dean you could use an upgrade on what you consider body wash,” Cas had said to him. Dean won’t lie, he was slightly offended, but the stuff Cas picked out did have a nice relaxing scent to it. At another booth they found a classic selection of homegrown fruits and veggies. Cas selected a variety of the stuff, knowing Sam would be all too appreciative.

After half the day had passed of them milling around the market, Dean was starting to get wary. Mostly, he was hungry. He figures Cas picks up on this because without warning, he’d snatched Dean’s hand into his own and towed him over to a stand that Dean recognized on smell alone.

The smell of freshly baked pie hits him square in the stomach and it rumbles at the thought. Dean’s mouth waters, and he’s pretty sure the look on his face is something Claire calls heart eyes.

He can’t be bothered. Cas knows him so well.

They find an empty picnic table to eat at and Dean warns Cas to never tell a single soul that he shared his pie with him. Dean had an image to uphold, even when Cas complained. “Dean, there’s no way you could have eaten that all by yourself, anyway, whats it matter?”

“It matters!” He’d declared sharply.

The pie sits between them as they take turns stabbing it with their forks. Dean’s heart is as full as it’s ever been, looking at Cas from across the table. Cas smiles back at him, his mouth full of apple pie, and Dean needs an anchor. He reaches his hand across the table and Cas takes it willingly.

And there they sat, under blue skies, sharing an apple pie, just staring into each other’s eyes.

[nancypullen]

IT'S AUGUST!

You guys, we're just a short walk to the "ber" months! If this month zips by like the last couple, we'll be smack dab in September before we know it! I love that. I 'm not wishing my life away, but I sure am wishing this summer away. With Tennessee still at a 30-something percent vaccination rate, we haven't really gone anywhere or done anything. No baseball games, no festivals, no fun. Sure, we're vaccinated but that shot is meant to keep us from severe COVID, hospitalization, and death. I don't want it at all. I've got friends who had it, never ended up in the hospital, but months later are still battling symptoms. No thanks. Soooo, on Saturday night we got real fancy and picked up a sack of Taco Bell and went to the drive-in to see Jungle Cruise. The movie was bad, but the company was excellent and the nachos were delicious. No regrets.

What can I say? I'm a cheap date. Before I forget- I've had some questions about the refrigerator pickles. Yes, they were a success. When the first jar was ready for the frig I had the mister taste one and critique the flavor. He said there wasn't enough of a vinegar bite. I added an extra tablespoon of vinegar to each jar and after that he deemed them perfect. In fact, he's enjoyed them so much that he's mowed through the whole batch (4 jars). Today I'll be picking and pickling some more. After that I may pull up the cucumber plants. They're starting to look like they've lived a good life. Besides, IT'S AUGUST. We're nearly finished with summer! Can I get an amen? The bell peppers still have plenty of production time, I've had a pretty good crop and there are still lots of baby peppers on the plants. I'll give them a stay of execution for now. I've been at my desk making cards again. No special occasions, just nonsense.

Today I plan to make one for someone special who is battling health issues and maybe a couple of back-to-school cards for teacher friends. It would be kinder just to send them haz-mat suits. That's it, you're all caught up on the fast-paced life we're living - drive-ins, pickles, and paper crafts. In about three weeks we'll mask up and FLY to Baltimore. This will be the first time I've been on a plane since February of 2020. Holy cow! Eighteen months feels like a lifetime. Anyway, we've got a meeting with a builder, we plan to visit a couple more towns that we missed the first time we went exploring, and hopefully, HOPEFULLY make a final decision of some sort - even if it's just agreeing on a spot. We've had zoom meetings with the builder and have been going over floorplans and options - I'm still not convinced it's our wisest choice. I'd love a sparkling new home with hand-picked finishes, but there are a lot of hidden costs. We built this house in 1999 and it was all pretty straight forward and we knew exactly what we were getting for our sale price. This time around everything is an "option". Oh, you want a light above the kitchen island? That's another $800. What's that, you want steps to the front porch? We can do that for $1800. Every extra window is $500 or more, and (surprise!) most rooms only have one. The optional stone fireplace is $7,000. They don't sound like much one at a time, but added together it's a bundle. Buying finishes through the builder is very convenient, but far more costly. The same granite or quartz kitchen counters the builder will install are a thousand dollars more than Lowe's or Home Depot - the very same granite! And you know darn well that the builder is buying them at a contractor's price. The catch is that you must have a countertop in order to close. So if you have them install a basic laminate and choose to replace it with granite of your choosing, then you're paying the new installers extra to remove and haul away the laminate that you didn't want in the first place. Ugh. We've also remembered that we are not HOA people. The neighborhood we are considering is really lovely - it sits on a golf course (we don't golf) and has a community pool, fitness center, etc. Of course, there's a fee for all of that. That fee also includes trash pickup and lawn maintenance. Mickey would never mow again! He likes that. BUT, and for me this is a big but, they control every shrub or tree you might want to plant. No trees with a trunk diameter over 12 inches. They also hit you for $650 every January for maintenance of water and sewer. They're on public sewer and water, so I'm not sure what that covers. Of course, we can always purchase a lot elsewhere and build on that, but odds are that would entail having a well and septic put in and I am not a fan of that at all. The allure of building is that we could control the timeline (pretty much). If we broke ground in September or October could list our house in the spring and make our move. That gives us time to book a moving company and have a schedule that doesn't create panic. Our other options are to keep scouring real estate and jump on a house that meets our needs, list our house, close on our house and the new house in a timely manner, cross our fingers we can hire a reputable moving company on short notice, and drive to Maryland with two cats...or...list our house, close, hire a moving company, drive to Maryland with two cats, put everything in storage, rent a place until we find what we love, then hire movers again to get everything from storage to the new place. I'll be honest, the worst part of both scenarios is the idea of driving with two cats. They may have to be drugged. I'm currently liking this house in Ocean Pines. It's a little wonky-looking, but the interior and the lot are appealing (that dappled shade is perfect for hydrangeas!). I'm crazy about that screened room. https://www.homesnap.com/homes/for_sale/MD/Ocean-Pines/p_(21,21266)/c_38.381705,-75.146285/z_12/m_7,107492455 I've

already decorated it in my mind. It's 5 miles from the beach, the community has 5 pools ( 1 indoor), tennis courts, pickleball courts, walking trails, playgrounds, etc. No hidden fees. Every Saturday there's a farmer's market, and everything we'd need from a good hospital to Home Goods is nearby. The biggest drawback is that it's two hours from the grandgirl. Two hours is much better than our current eleven hours but that's definitely not the easy drop-in we'd hoped for. Arrgh! They'll just have to move. Ha! Alright, I've dumped my brain out on here and I'll leave you to pick through the mess and make sense of it. I have to run out to mail a box, then I'll feed the mister, fold some laundry, and make a couple cards. That's kind of a terrific Tuesday. No complaints from me. Besides, we're now just 89 days from Halloween! The stores have had fake pumpkins out since mid-July, they know the way to my heart. One more reason not to buy a lot outside of a neighborhood- no trick-or-treaters! Can you imagine if this was to be my last official Halloween? Tragedy! Gotta' run. Stay safe. stay well, and be kind to each other. XOXO, Nancy

[blackcoffeeandblankpagess]

Random Life Updates/Thoughts

helloooooooooooo humans

Got into Eugene last Saturday, my mom officially left yesterday morning (had to drive her to the airport at 3am yikes!), and the past 6 days have just been a blur of moving

I LOVE my apartment. It has a giant balcony area which is by far my favorite part and something I really prioritized when searching. Especially with working from home I really wanted a space of my own to get outside. I really was going into this place pretty blind, obvi I couldn’t tour it and I only had a few pics to go off of, no concept of sq footage or layout, but it really truly feels pretty perfect. Once I have everything together I’ll post some pics :) still waiting on furniture orders and random little things

My mom and I picked up a few lil plants since I have the space outside and they make me so happy??? We got basil and mint and I am planning to buy lettuce at the farmer’s market. And my mom got me lavender as a surprise ! Currently drinking water with lemon and my my basil in it now, so good

Have been being v chill on the running the past week. Last Wednesday aka a week ago was when I got my beloved parasites 🙃 which, up until monday when I started taking the oregano oil, made running SUPER painful since my stomach hurt so bad. Have been being gentle with myself and resting more on the formal movement, especially since my days have naturally been so full with moving activities (lugging heavy furniture up stairs is no easy task lemme tell ya). I had planned on running today but it was rainy and cozy and I was tired so I just did some strength training and yoga and it was nice! being less of a maniac and developing an ability to listen to my body is nice!

^^also re: worms, feeling totally normal now, apparently the oregano oil is truly the move! 

I honestly feel really, really good mentally. It sounds counterintuitive but I know it’s because I’ve been so busy. I literally have not had time to stress over the dumb shit my brain chooses to obsess over.

^I think this season of life is going to be really good for me. 

My roadtrip with my mom was really great. I love that I can say that. We have an extremely close relationship but we also very quickly end up screaming at eachother on any given day, conflicting personalities let’s say. So basically everyone who knows us was like ....you guys are gonna go on a 2 week roadtrip together are you nuts?? I firmly believed it would be fine because we have very similar travel styles which tends to be the main point of tension on any trip with other people and I was right! It was good! Honestly I think it was my fave cross country trip I’ve taken (I’ve driven coast to coast 5 times). I also think a big part of that was that I worked really hard to push away the intrusive thoughts about food and squash that anxiety and just be present and enjoy the trip which is something that has been SO hard the past few years especially. It makes me really hopeful for future travels. Also...our route was just so fking cool ugh

Have a lil over a week before orientation and 2 before classes start and I am soooooo glad I got here with time to spare because my days have been FULL and I still have a lot to accomplish, but starting to feel like things are semi under control

Today it was rainy and cozy, I just baked a loaf of pumpkin bread because I am willing it to be fall, I have leftover thai takeout from when my mom was here for dinner, I’m on my couch in sweatpants with a candle lit and ready to just CHILL the rest of the night and I am happy. Boy am I happy.

[silverliningsrpg]

Amory’s November Events:

Thanks to Amory Tradition and the very dedicated work of the Amory Parks & Rec department, Amory is always ready for any holiday or season. The Fall season and Pre-Thanksgiving period is full of various events, charity drives and activities that allow residents to feel closer to their community and better about their giving tendencies and spirit. This November, like so many before, the town’s calendar is full and a few of the town’s signature events will be happening this weekend and next!

THIS WEEKEND

Saturday, November 14, 2020

CALLING ALL VOLUNTEERS!!!! This Saturday, Amory will be welcoming any and all volunteers to set up for the week’s festivities. Volunteers will be responsible for constructing the different booths, the main stage for the pumpkin eating contest and the boxes needed for the food drive.

As a thank you for volunteering, Mayor Morales will be stopping by with pizza and baked goods for the volunteers and giving them all free tickets to the fair.

Sunday, Novemeber 15, 2020

Calling all pie eaters!! Amory will be holding its 30th annual pumpkin pie eating contest. Come check out the competition, come participate and find out if reigning champ Helena Barritt will win!

Anyone attending is encouraged to bring food for the annual food drive. All proceeds and donations will go to the Amory Food Bank. Folks are encouraged to donate money just as much as food.

NEXT WEEKEND

Saturday, November 21, 2020

One of the main events of the fall, the fall farmer’s market and fair is a chance for the entire Amory community to come together. There’s plenty of local businesses selling food and produce and it’s important you don’t miss Tony and his large barbecue pit, which can be found towards the entrance of the fair.

Amory’s Fall Fair includes various carnival games, hay rides, a pumpkin patch and a photo booth with tons of props. It’s family friendly fun, but that still doesn't stop the high schoolers from wrecking havoc as soon as the sun goes down.

Sunday, November 22, 2020

The 20th annual Turkey Run is an Amory staple, despite getting its start after tragedy struck. Every year the Turkey Run raises money for homeless children all over the state and got its start after a family in Amory lost their home to a fire on Thanksgiving day. The 5k run/walk is open to all ages and all audience members are welcome. Each person who finishes the race gets a large cup of cider, a turkey hat, a coupon to Tony’s BBQ and a Turkey Run t-shirt!

OOC Notes:

This weekends event will start this Friday, November 13, 2020 starting at 5pm EST and will last until Wednesday Novemeber 18th

Next weekends events will start Friday, November 20th and last until the following week. (we will make a reminder announcement next week!)

This event is completely optional but we encourage all characters to get involved in some way!

Feel free to post instagram posts from this event, make sure to tag @silverlmedia and post any outfits that your character may be wearing.

As always, if you have any questions, feel free to reach out to us on the main or via discord. Have fun!!!

[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​

[thatfanficstuff]

Rise and Shine - Lydia

Pairing: Lydia Martin x GenderNeutral!Reader

Warnings: fluff and the word sex. Oh no.

A/N: As you have all gathered by now I am in love with @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash‘s aesthetics. This is one of my faves though. The colors are gorgeous. This was written while I was on vacation but couldn’t post. 

***

You were deep in a dream about having a normal life when you were awakened with a jolt. You groaned at the interruption and opened one eye to glare at whoever had caused the disturbance. Lydia Martin knelt on your bed as she bounced on the mattress and flashed you that stunning smile. So, there were worse things you could wake up to, but still.

Your face was pressed against your bedding as you’d slept on your belly. You didn’t move any more than necessary to arch a brow in disapproval. “Why are you here?” you groaned.

Her bouncing intensified. “You promised to go to the farmer’s market with me.”

“I did?” You recalled nothing of the sort. You valued your sleep too much to do such a thing.

She nodded. “Yesterday. I asked and you said sure.”

That had you lifting your head to get a better look at her. “Was I still asleep? You’re always asking me stuff when I’m still asleep.”

She tilted her head and tapped her lip with a finger as if lost in thought. “Well, we were in bed but I’m pretty sure we weren’t sleeping.” She grinned and you couldn’t help but smile back.

You shook your head and shifted around until you were sat on the edge of the bed. “Post-sex is just as bad, Lydia. I agree to anything then.”

“Yes, you do,” she agreed happily. One more bounce had her pressed against your back as her arms wrapped around you. She buried her face into the bend of your neck and nuzzled against you before pressing a soft kiss to the spot. “Now, get up.”

There was no point in arguing anymore. She’d won, that much was already obvious. “What time is it?” you asked instead and squinted at the alarm clock on the other side of the room. The numbers that shone back at you brought a fresh sense of annoyance with them. “Seriously, Lyds? It’s Saturday.”

She made a sound of agreement and hopped off the bed. “I know. That’s why we have to get there early.” Your eyes followed her as she disappeared into your closet. She emerged moments later with a pair of jeans and your favorite sweater in hand. “Here. Get dressed.”

“Why are we doing this again? The supermarket sells vegetables and I don’t have to get up at ‘oh God it’s early’ to get there.”

She giggled before kissing your cheek. “We’re not going for veggies, Y/N. We’re getting mums and pumpkins for the porch, remember?”

You were vaguely starting to recall this conversation. Your gaze ran over your girlfriend as you contemplated ignoring her and crawling back under the covers. Seeing the hopeful look on her face, you huffed a sigh and got to your feet. “Out,” you ordered and pointed to the door. “If we’re going to do this I have to do more than just throw some clothes on.”

“Yay,” she practically squealed as she bounced on her feet and clapped her hands together. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

As you ran a hand down your face trying to rid yourself of the lingering exhaustion you decided it was worth being a little tired if it gave your favorite person a few hours of normalcy in your crazy lives. The wolves could wait until you’d bought her flowers and brightened your home a little.

TW: @evyiione

All the things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20

[pendragonfics]

He’s a McGregor

Paring: Thomas McGregor/Reader

Tags: female reader, alternative canon, gardening, slow build, fluff and angst. 

Summary: Bea's next door neighbour, Reader can't help but fall for Thomas the moment he steps foot into her life. Too bad that life is complicated.

Word Count: 3,602

Current Date: 2018-05-10

Every Sunday, near religiously, you would always be at the farmer’s markets. Even the days when you felt a tad ill, or, the night before you had a fun night out at the pub with friends. It was a fact known around the town that, despite divine intervention, or perhaps the Queen herself, there was never anything in your life which could stop you from setting up your fresh produce stall at the farmer’s markets.

Your friend, Bea, would tease you whenever she had the chance about this. She was a painter – a quite good one, if anyone asked for your opinion – and lived in the cottage just beyond the little woods which separated her and the grumpy Mr. McGregor’s homes. But, despite being neighbours, and, friends for nigh five years, Bea was more like a sister to you than anything, and, together, you shared your love for the rabbits and the other creatures who lived in the woods.

Today, with cinnamon tea cakes made with your eggs and apples from the orchard, you sat on her cottage’s little balcony and enjoyed the silence of Saturday mornings in the company of one another, and a cup of Earl Grey. You were sure that if there were unexpected guests they would be aghast at the sight of two spinsters, sitting in the warmth of the English summer. You, with the dirt of your garden still under your fingernails, and she with the flecks of paint on her face.

But then again, there seemed to be visitors approaching on the driveway, and silently, you and Bea turned to one another as if to question whose visitors they were. Bea’s drastic chance to the country meant all her family were still in the metropolitan regions of England, and your family weren’t local, and scattered over the globe like indecisive dice.

“That’s a nice car,” you intoned.

The old Land Rover was only a nice car the person deciding it was nice or not was a someone who was interested in vintage cars, and since you were, it was one. It had to be from the early seventies and was a shade of military green which made you wonder had ever been a good colour for anything to be painted.

“It’s an old car,” Bea quirked her lip. “I’m not expecting any visitors…”

You shook your head. “Me neither.” With a sip of your tea, you added, “Must be someone for the late Mr. McGregor’s property. Maybe they’ll renovate it to be a halfway home or sell it for charity. Then something good’ll come from that horrid old man’s place.”

The both of you chuckled.

It was then the Land Rover pulled up before the McGregor house. From the car, stepped out a man; he was tall, in the way which made you wonder if all his limbs were long, or if it were just his legs. His hair was a dark shade of red which looked almost brown, and he wore a fancy suit like he had walked straight from the city, into his car, and somehow wound up here, up in the Lake District.

You and Bea shared a glance, and biting your lip, you took a deep sip of your tea. It was then your mobile phone took to vibrating upon the table beside your saucer, your screen lighting up with a reminder that your rising dough was ready to be baked.

“I’ll leave you to this handsome stranger,” you set your teacup down, gathering your things. Bea sighed, and doing the same, the both of you made to clear the table before you went on your merry way to bake bread. “Be nice,” you remind her, setting the teapot beside her sink.

But when you exit her front door, you catch the eye of the newcomer, whoever he is. Despite the fact he’s as stiff as a beanpole and as frowny as a barn owl, you give him a small wave, and, take the trail through the woods to your awaiting dough.

---

You wake two hours before sunrise, and pulling on your big galoshes, you begin the task you do every Sunday morning. Harvest. It’s a lovely thing, really – you spend the week coercing your tomatoes to blossom from verdant to rosy, nurturing your cauliflowers to become the size of dinner plates. Not everything is harvested every week; you’re still waiting for your squash to ripen, and your thyme is still not mature enough. You feel almost like an eccentric witch when you harvest for the markets in the morning. A gardening witch, you’d be, the sort children read about in fairy-tale books. Then again, if someone came to steal anything, you’d never ask for their firstborn in a million years (you very much preferred to sleep through the night, thank you very much).

Soon enough, your produce is washed, loaded into the back seat of your 1979 Volkswagen Beatle, and just as the sunrise stains the tops of the trees and the world around, you’ve washed the dirt from yourself, and are dressed and ready to go to the markets. When you park, you’re soon seeing familiar faces; Betsy from the library selling preloved books, Mr. Johns’ miscellaneous trinkets, Mrs. Zawadzcy has her potted plants on display.

“Morning, __________,” Betsy gives you a wave from behind her table. “Ooh, your vegetables are looking quite lovely today!”

You wave her off. “They look quite lovely every day, Betsy,” you chuckle, toting the box of potatoes onto your designated trestle table. “How about the books, any nice titles you’ve got there?”

“Oh, nothing good,” She shrugs, and giving a big sigh, adds, “The kids these days only want to read longwinded romances between people who’ll never be together.”

You thank her, moving your produce around in a sort of display. “and how about your book? How’s writing going?”

Betsy laughs.

Sundays are often fast, perhaps because you’re focused on selling your vegetables, or, because there isn’t a way to tell the time other than the distant bong of the town clock, or the cries of tired toddlers. But today, when the sun was high enough to be in your eyes, you saw Bea approaching hurriedly, her jacket buttons mismatched, hair awry.

When she made it to your table, you raised an eyebrow. “You look like you saw the gatekeeper of Hades, Bea.” You chuckle, giving Mrs. Zawadzcy’s nieces a wave as they walked by. When your friend did not laugh it off, you frowned. “Is everything alright?”

She gaped. “Alright? No! The man, from yesterday, you remember him?”

“We watched him,” you nod, wrapping up Mr. John’s usual order of carrots in brown paper. As you exchanged produce for coin, you added, “He drove in a terribly old Land Rover, how can’t I?”

Bea gave an exasperated shudder. “Yes, well, he’s a McGregor.”

You paused. Remembering that you had thought he had Bean handsome, you blanched. You were a lovely person, whom mostly everyone labelled as kind, or forgiving. But there was one – no, two, people in this world who deserved no forgiveness; whoever decided to kill off Eccleston’s rendition in Doctor Who after a single season, and Mr. McGregor.

“Oh,” you replied.

She nods. “Oh, is just about right, __________!” Bea runs a hand through her wild hair, and adds, “He comes into town as if he’s Bean here all this time and demands – demands! – that I keep the rabbits away from his property!”

“Sounds like a real prick to me,” you intone.

Bea agrees, and navigating her way around the trestle table, throws herself into your arms. With a sigh, you console your neighbour and confidant. You know just how much she disliked the old Mr. McGregor – you both shared that passion fervently – and you know just how much she loved the rabbits who lived around the woods between both of your houses. She’d even named them; little Peter was her favourite.

“Hey, why don’t you send the bunnies my way, until he cools off?” You suggest, withdrawing from the embrace. “I’ll leave my gate open, too; I’m sure they’ll think they’re in heaven.”

---

The first time you find yourself speaking to new Mr. McGregor, you’re in your bathers, trying to get beetroot stains out of your favourite blouse in the creek that runs between all three houses. Normally, you would be fine to be spotted in your swimsuit, but, it’s a terribly cold morning, and you’re wearing a haggard old woollen jumper as you do the task as to not die of pneumonia. And, then, add the tall, mysterious new neighbour to the scene, and your face is flushed with embarrassment.

“Morning,” you wave to him, your hand clutching a bar of laundry soap.

He frowns, pausing mid-step to focus, “What are you doing?”

You show him the blouse. “Beetroot stain. I’m too stubborn to throw my shirt away, and too stingy to go to town to pay hard-earned quid for a washing machine.” You huff playfully, and pushing your hair back, go back to the chore of blotting the blouse. “Oh, and I’m your other neighbour, too, I’m __________.” You explain. “Not just some village weirdo who’s washing clothes in the creek.”

He nods, putting his hands into his trouser pockets. “I’m Thomas. Thomas McGregor.”

You grin, understanding. You weren’t sure when Bea said ‘He’s a McGregor’ she meant he was a relative, or even alike in spirit, but, it seemed he was both. “Ah, that explains the changes you’ve done to the garden,” you say, gesturing to the garden’s walls.

Thomas hums. From his pocket, you hear his car keys rattle, as if he’s wondering whether to leave the terribly awkward conversation between the both of you and go off to do better things. But instead of bidding adieu, he surprises you.

“You can use my laundry, if you like,” he suggests.

“Really?” you wonder.

You’re unsure if you’re incredulous, or just shocked. The other McGregor used to call you a ‘Spinster Wench’ – a direct quotation! – and every year would grow the larger pumpkin at the local fair’s competition. He was a bitter man, intolerable and bitter. You’re not sure why you expected this McGregor to be the same, and yet, he’s being nice.

“I mean, until yours is able to be fixed,” he adds hastily. A digital tone sounds from his pocket, and the moment is broken. Checking his phone, he makes a face, and goes off toward his car. “Sorry, got to dash.”

“It was nice meeting you, Thomas!” You call after him as he climbs into his Land Rover.

He drives off, down the driveway, and at the end, takes the turn toward town. It’s not until an icy breeze from the heavens above goes through your bones that you remember you’re dressed less than favourably for October. Coming to your senses, you gather your things and rush home.

When you’re inside, you throw your wet clothes into the kitchen sink. It’s then you dash toward the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom, and spinning the bathtub’s tap on so fast, you’re not sure why the knob doesn’t spin right off and hit your head.

It’s then, standing in the bathroom, amid the slowly-heating steam and the crudely self-painted walls, you feel a sting, a reminder. You don’t acknowledge this feeling until your whole body is immerged under the terrifically hot water, when your hair is wet, ears full of water, and eyes closed.

You’re lonely.

Your parents had been so happy in your childhood memories; those sepia-toned mind-pictures were the stuff of dreams. But that was just it; they were dreams, and children knew nothing about adults, and adults were sometimes only playing pretend romance when they were really seething in sadness and regret. Your mother left when you were twelve, moving to Santorini with a brand-new girlfriend and a half-dozen dogs and communicated in post-cards, and your father went when you were old enough to live alone, and took to New Zealand, and married into a blended family.

Maybe they’re why you’re alone, trying not to fall into the same trap of it all. Why you’re reminded of your shortcomings when meet the new neighbour, you’re not sure, but, your heart beats faster at just the thought of him.

Your lips breach the surface of the bathwater, and taking a deep breath in, you replace it with a sigh. With your bones thawed from the freezing autumnal coldness, you sit back, the warm water tumbling down your forehead, and smile to yourself, realising something so obvious.

You like him.

---

It’s colder this morning, and while Bea’s away for the holidays to visit her family in the city, you’ve got the rabbits staying in the warm of your renovated atrium. You’re as much in love with the rabbits as Bea, treasuring them all so very much. It keeps them out of trouble; little Peter has been up to so much trouble lately, and you’re doing your all to wean the bunnies off the thrill of annoying Thomas.

You’re constantly seeing him; when you meet at the letterboxes, when you’re passing in the street with your reusable bags after your weekly trip to Tesco, or when you’re using his laundry still because you’re still not able to afford a new washing machine. Every time you share words, you fervently defending the local wildlife against his raging distaste for it, and all the while, you’re doing your best to hide the blossoming feelings you have for him.

When you find out he’s got no plans for Christmas, you blink. Surely a man like himself isn’t going to be spending the day alone, yet, he plans to.

“You can’t be alone for Christmas,” you shake your head in disbelief, looking to him as you filch your mailbox of its contents. “Even Harry Potter had a proper Christmas in book one, and he had no family!” you protest.

Thomas frowns. “I’ve never read Harry Potter,” he says, and adds, “and I like Christmas alone.”

At this, you throw your hands in the air. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. It’s just not the __________ family way.” You sigh, and tucking your bills beneath your armpit, you add, “You’re having Christmas lunch with me.”

He raises a single eyebrow, and asks, “The __________ family way is to force people to socialise on Christmas?”

You shake your head. “My family haven’t really talked to me for years,” you laugh it off, and add, “The __________ family way is to avoid confrontation as long as possible, and then run away from it when it comes to you.”

He nods. “and you’re not like your family?”

You turn toward your car where it’s idling. If the car was a sentient object, you would expect it to be anxiously waiting for you to stop flirting with the too-handsome-for-you man. As you walk away, you call over your shoulder, “Hell yeah!”

The day after, you let the bunnies into your garden during the warmest part of the day. During the colder months, you didn’t sell produce at the markets. It was harder to garden when the earth was colder than whatever cruel God had written your life’s fate. So, the rabbits were free to take what root vegetables they could want and turn the soil over with their searching paws.

It’s then when you hear footsteps tramping their way through the forest pathway, and glancing above the fence, you see Thomas. “Hey there, neighbour,” you smile, standing to greet your guest. “Let me guess, you’re here to excuse yourself from Christmas lunch?”

He shakes his head. “No, the opposite.” He gives you a small smile. “Just making sure what time you’ll want me over?”

“How about eleven?” you suggest. It’s then you feel Benjamin nuzzle against your ankle. With a smile, you pick him up, and hold him close to your chest. “If that suits you, that is.”

Instead of answering, he asks, “How can you stand those rabbits?”

You glance at Benjamin. His winter pudge is thick this year, and he snuggles into your hands further when your hot breath touches his exposed nose. With a small smile, you look to the other rabbits; Peter, Mopsy, Flopsy and Cottontail are all investigating your potatoes, sniffing at what exposed vine they can see.

“When I was very small, I had a rabbit. Her name was Brum.” you say softly. You notice the odd look on his face, and you add, “I really liked the show when I was little. Don’t judge me, I was eight.” You look down to Benjamin once more and give him a scratch behind his ears. “I had Brum for years, honestly, but, she died the day before my parents told me they didn’t love each other anymore.”

You swallow, trying not to think of it. You’re a grown woman, and it has been years, and yet, it hurts still. Why does it hurt still?

“Anyway,” you take a deep breath, and bending, place Benjamin back upon the ground. “So, I’ll see you at eleven, next Tuesday?”

Thomas nods, and otherwise silent, he says, “See you next Tuesday.”

---

When the world warmed itself up again, so did the mischief of the rabbits. Bea shared all the stories of her family’s Christmas antics for months following the festive season, and you finally had enough money scraped together to buy yourself a replacement for your washing machine. You were happy to have it, yes, but now there was no excuse to pop on over to Thomas’ home and chat while the machine cleaned your mixed colours.

Bea was confused. “Why didn’t you use your spare key for my washing machine?” She asked, one day over tea and biscuits. Your silence was your answer, and with an understanding hum, Bea gave your back a pat, and cooed apologetically. “Oh dear,” she said, with a sigh, “I see.”

While her paintings improved with the warmer weather, your garden took itself back to life, and once again, once your crop was invigorated, back to the markets every Sunday. You had Bean at the markets the day Bea texted you furiously.

He blew up the burrow, came the first one.

And the tree hit my house!!

You were left blinking at the phone as it vibrated with every furious update, too stunned to reply. You couldn’t reply, not until you served the plethora of customers lined up for your fresh produce at the trestle table. Not until you worked your way out of the shock.

You refused to believe anything, and when you drove home in your Volkswagen, you almost stalled the car in the driveway when you saw the still-clearing dust in the air and the tree in Bea’s home. But you didn’t stall, and when you saw Thomas’s face over his fence, you pretended you didn’t see him, and drove around to your home.

Bea was waiting for you on the porch, head in her hands.

“I can’t afford the rent as it is,” she moans, tears in her eyes. “but the insurance?” You gather your friend into your arms, and together, you sit on the steps to your house in the embrace of one another. “He’s a McGregor, of course he hates the rabbits,” she whispers. “Why did I expect him to be any less?”

You’re silent. How did you ever like him? How could – how did you ever fall for him? Who blows up trees with no regard for the outcome? You hold your friend close, her head on your heart, and together, you sit there until the chill of the evening breeze tickles sense into you both. When you separate, you lead her inside for tea and comfort food, or, really, any leftovers you have.

Into her teacup, Bea whispers, “I’m going to have to move back to the city.”

You recoil, aghast. “No! No, Bea, don’t move! I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t around, honestly,” you plead. “We’ll get the money, I promise.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not just that…I don’t think I can stand to be near him after this.” She pauses, and adds, “Oh, __________, I’m so sorry. I – what are you going to do?”

You frown. “What?”

Bea places a hand on yours. “You’re in love with man,” she replies, as confused as your answer as you are with her rejoinder. “and you’re in the middle of all this.”

You shake your head, and with a curt laugh, you say, “I’m very sure that your house being hit by a blown-up tree completely outweighs my terribly judged crush.” You pour more tea into your cup, and add, “And don’t think you’re still sleeping at your place while there’s a bloody big hole in the roof. I’ve got a spare room.”

Bea makes a noise that sounds like the words thank you as she sips her tea. “What would I do without you, __________?”

You chuckle, moving to clear the table. “You’d have nobody to stop you from moving back to the city, for starters,” you retort, your words putting a little smile upon her face.

“You’re too good to me,” she says simply.

From the kitchen sink, you reply, “But that’s what friends are for!”

---

There’s a FOR SALE sign on the McGregor house not even half a week after the tree incident, and by the end of the week, Thomas has packed up and left without so much of a goodbye to any of you. Even the men in the hardware store in town who he got to know quite well say they miss him. But you saw him nigh every day, and you miss him more; more than perhaps you should or have ever let on to Bea.

But Bea can’t take living in your spare room much longer; it’s Bean months, and yet, she’s looking for a cheap place to live away from here. Any words you share aren’t enough to keep her, and anything you try and get anyone else to do isn’t enough; Betsy from the library can’t sway her, nor Mr. Johns or Mrs. Zawadzcy.

So, you do what you can only do; you let your best, and closest friend go.

You can’t stand to wave her off when the UBER arrives to take her to the train station, and instead, say your goodbyes at your gate, and take to pottering around your garden to take your mind from things. Your lettuce does need some love, and tending to it, you can’t help but think of all the almosts that this past year has entailed.

You almost bared your heart to Thomas.

You almost fell too hard for him.

You almost confessed to him about your feelings, in the months after Christmas.

You almost miss him now.

When your watch beeps upon the hour, you’re reminded that Bea’s already on her way down the road. Saddened again, you almost don’t hear a voice calling your name, and leaves crunching under foot.  

But that’s when you glance up.

You’re met with the familiar head of dark auburn hair, those green eyes. His face is a little red, hair wild, yet, he’s as handsome as ever and your stomach ties itself in knots at the sight of him. Thomas approaches the other side of your fence, wearing a fancy coat, and in his hands, is a fist full of flowers.

“Hi, Thomas,” you breathe. “What –,”

“I had to come and make things right,” the words burst from his lips, the lower one wobbling. He holds the flowers to you, and adds, softly, “I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a prick.”

You blink, accepting the bouquet of flowers. You look at the flowers, noticing that they’re the same sort of wildflowers that grow in the woods between your house and his. “Thomas – I –,” you can’t form a sentence, taking to stammering instead, “What are you doing here?”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m stupid. Incredibly. It took me a year to realise that I’m a horrible person. I’ve come back, and I hope you don’t hate me, __________.”

You consider the hand-picked bouquet. “I could never hate you, Thomas.”

There’s a small smile on his face. “Let’s start over.” He says, quickly adds, “Hello, I’m Thomas McGregor. I’m incredibly stupid when it comes to realising my feelings, and I hate Harrods.”

You can’t help but giggle.  “Hello, Thomas, I’m __________. I distance myself from people because my parents were loveless assholes and I think I’ve loved you for a whole year.”

He eyes light up. “I don’t just think I love you, __________.” He says, leaning over the fence, closer and closer with every word. “I know I love you.”

You feel your fingers loosening around the flowers Thomas gave you, and on their own accord, your hands take the lapel of his fancy coat into your fists. In the moment, your body on autopilot, your lips are on his lips, your breath mingling with his breath, and for the first time in your life, you notice the absence of the sting you’ve always felt.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit forward of me –,” you mutter, breaking away.

But Thomas shakes his head. “__________, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he says. Standing straight once more, he adds, “But I meant to say, Bea’s not leaving, I’m using my inheritance to pay for the damages, and –,”

Over his shoulder, you see Bea giving you a big thumb’s up, with a wide grin. Eyes back to Thomas, you all but growl, “Oh, shut up and kiss me again,” you say. “We’ve got a year to make up for.”

[hannawilliamson]

Virginia - December 2020

In the months leading up to November 2020, I had debated attending graduate school in the state of Wisconsin or Virginia. When it came down to the cost, it was the best decision to stay as an in-state resident for graduate school. I was accepted by George Williams College to start pursuing my Masters in Social Work in January 2021. With no clarity into my next opportunity for a trip out to Virginia I decided to go before starting school in the new year. 

Saturday, December 5th 

I woke up early and headed to Milwaukee for my flight to visit Jenna & Bradley in Virginia. I landed around 10AM. Bradley picked me up and had planned our first stop at a coffee shop, Cafe Amouri (https://www.caffeamouri.com/) in Vienna, Virginia. Bradley ordered the Pumpkin Spice Latte and I ordered the Gingerbread Latte, both were incredible options. I would make sure to stop at this location again when in the area. I felt they did a great job managing ordering and contactless pickup during the COVID pandemic. Bradley and I caught up while Jenna completed her sleep after an overnight shift. When Jenna awoke we headed out for lunch and a full day ahead. 

I have a soft spot for Bartaco (https://bartaco.com/location/reston/) since it was one of my highlight restaurants the first time I came out to Virginia. If you know me well you know I am in a constant state of craving mexican food and elote corn. We ordered Guac, Street Corn and a variety of tacos. I decided I am not a fan of the Crispy Oyster Taco that Bradley is fond of, but I am down for the Glazed Pork Belly Taco any day! 

Jenna drove us to Amphora Bakery (https://amphorabakery.com/) where we were able to see the treat artists at work in the back room. Bradley picked up some delicious decorative sugar cookies and I selected a magic bar. I decided that in the future the sugar cookies are most definitely the best way to go! 

In an attempt to stay local for the early afternoon we stopped for a wine flight at Fleetwood Farm Winery (https://fleetwoodfarmwinery.com/). Bradley and I enjoyed the variety as many of them were dry. Jenna passed up on several as she prefers the sweeter side of wine. Several other guest were ordering the pizza to pair with their wine, so that may be a good try for a future visit. 

As a tradition I requested that we snag up a treat from Mama's Apple Pie (https://www.momsapplepieco.com/)  in Leesburg, Virginia. I selected the Boston Cream which was good but nothing can compare the outstanding fruit pie varieties that are offered at each of their locations. 

Next we headed farther from home to Bluemont Winery (https://www.bluemontvineyard.com/) as Bradley had seen online they had a field of Christmas lights after sunset. Upon our arrival we found the venue overpacked for our comfort during the pandemic and it was cold enough we weren’t fond of sitting outside without heaters. We picked ourselves up and headed across the street to Henway Hard Cider (https://greatcountryfarms.com/henway-hard-cider/), a new location since I last visited. Upon arrival we witnessed a snowman on an island in their man made pond, as we neared the entry to the building we were able to chat with the chickens they house there. During our visit we enjoyed some cider, sliders and a cookie tray. It was an open building and great to check out for the first time. As the sun began to set we headed back over to Bluemont Vineyard where they had Christmas lights strung throughout the vines. It was stunning as we took the view from the bottom, driving on the curvy road to the top and got to look down on them as they spread over the hillside. Bradley made a great call in recommending we go out to see them. We had so much fun taking photos and videos, laughing at ourselves the entire time. Before heading out of town we stopped at Bluemont General Store (http://www.bluemontstore.com/) in which we were able to pick up some true molasses for our gingerbread cookies to come. We arrived home exhausted after a long day of travel and adventure, and went straight to bed. 

Sunday, December 6th

Sunday was a monumental day, as Jenna woke up and cooked me breakfast all before 10. It consisted of Trader Joe’s hash browns, JUST eggs, Kite Hill chive dip and Wegmans Sausage. If any of you want a killer breakfast this is all the ingredients that you need! 

Our next stop of the day was the local farmer’s market, as ya know you’re girl cannot pass up a morning farmers market. We picked up Twin Oats (https://twinoats.com/) oat bites sampler pack. I do have to say my all-time favorite is the White Chocolate Cinnamon Roll, but the Vanilla is good too. Can I say that the owner of this sweet shop is so kind as well. Jenna was a familiar face but without hesitation she welcomed me in sharing all that she had to offer. If you have a local farmers market I encourage you to go, spend your money here, and socialize with others in your community. Let’s connect together as humans!  

We scooped up Bradley from home and headed to Eugene’s Sausage & Fries (https://eatateugenes.com/). I cannot rave enough about how accommodating the staff was with a dairy free, gluten free and egg free diet. Each member of the team was professional and took the allergens seriously. Please understand that a majority of locations we encountered throughout our trip did not take the time to double check their ingredients or consult with the chef to ensure that the allergens were not present within the food. I could write a stellar review about Eugene’s day after day for the great service they provided us during our visit. Our order consisted of Truffle Fries, El Diablo Sausage, Elote Fries, Southern Dog and my pitiful lamb blueberry infused sausage. I would highly recommend ordering the Truffle Fries at every visit with the parmesan on the side and the el diablo sausage. I would pass on the lamb sausage which is no longer listed on the menu, likely for good reason. 

Our following location was Aroma Wine Tasting Room (https://moraisvineyards.com/aroma-wine-tasting/) where we obtained flight trees and Jenna was in heaven with the opportunity to fill hers with almost all dessert wines. It was a quaint location with incredible staff, we spent much of the afternoon sipping our wine away. I must add too that the women’s restroom at this location is huge allowing you the opportunity to run in circles, which as expected Jenna could not pass up.  

Cookies & Cream Ice Cream (https://www.cookiesandcreamshop.com/) was a phenomenal follow up location of choice for those of you who eat dairy, I would recommend passing on the sorbet. I ordered the Campfire S’mores ice cream and I can tell you it is worth the drive out to Haymarket! I would order it again and again for the rest of my days if I could. 

Bradley had other adventures to attend to, so Jenna and I went rogue for the rest of the evening. Starting out at Gray Ghost Winery (https://grayghostvineyards.com/) we completed a wine tasting at the counter allowing us the opportunity to hear the history of the grounds and story behind the name. We ended our visit by touring the wine cork gallery that has been set up for the holiday season. Jenna ended up purchasing a bottle of dessert wine and I took a sweet white home for us to share with our mother over the holiday season.  

In Virginia there is this small little building that was placed on earth by God, called the Cheesecake Heaven Drive Thru (https://www.facebook.com/WarrentonCheesecake/) and by God is it good. I had the Original Cheesecake which was outstanding! I promise you, you won’t go wrong by picking out any one of these options. I truly suggest that you pick more than one, if you’re having a hard time deciding just be assured that the Lord only wants what is best for you and that may mean you have to pick out all your favorites. 

YOU GUYS! I can not help but crack up each time I think of our experience at Bull Run Winery (https://www.wineryatbullrun.com/). As Jenna and I were walking in from the parking lot I was on the phone with our father. Jenna hops up the smallest curb and next thing I know she is on the ground, pauses a second on her back, rolls managing to get herself up in one swift motion all while picking up the contents that dumped out of her jacket pockets onto the concrete. Jenna starts halling ass up this huge hill to the entrance. I am laughing so hard I can’t speak to inform my concerned father of what occurred while at the same time I am out of breath trying to keep up with her. It is one of my favorite Jenna moments, and to this day I can’t help but laugh when the memory of this event crosses my mind. At the top of the hill as I confronted Jenna on the events that just occurred she acted as if no fall had occurred. Once I calmed my laughter we walked further into the ground of Bull Run to find a tent with heaters to drink under, a wine bar and outdoor live music. Jenna and I each grabbed a glass, found a location near a heater and it was then Jenna admitted to her fall for the first time. Jenna and I chatted and sipped on our wines while we listened to the horrific singing coming from the stage beside us. 

We stopped at the Dolce Amore Peruvian Bakery (http://www.dolceamoresweets.com/) before picking up dinner and heading home. We ordered the Tres Leches, Mini Alfajor Box and a Caramel Horn. If you enjoy caramel and shortbread cookies the Mini Alfajor Box is a must have item. The employees were sweet in providing the correct pronunciation of the items after I asked for assistance. I would recommend making a stop here if you’re local. 

Jenna and I picked up Ford’s Fish Shack (https://fordsfishshack.com/locations/ashburn/) to-go before heading home to eat dinner with Bradley. I had requested crab legs before my visit to town so Jenna ensured they were on our order. Bradley and I both enjoyed Connecticut Style Lobster Rolls and fries while Jenna tried out the scallops. I have a sick obsession with their skinny fries at all Ford’s locations, which topped off my entire day. After we filled our stomachs and caught up on our daily adventure, we headed off to bed for another fun-filled day.  

Monday, December 7th 

Our morning started off at Petite Loulou Creperie (https://www.lapetiteloulou.com/) in Purcellville, Virginia. Jenna ordered a Sugar Plum Mimosa with her Local Honey and Almond Crepe. Bradley ordered an oat milk latte with his Chicken Cordon Bleu Crêpe. I completed my order with the Prosciutto, Goat Cheese, & Fig Jam Crepe. If you know me any item with prosciutto, goat cheese and/or balsamic glaze is a must order item. 

Our next spot on the way home was a coffee shop called Dolce & Ciabatta (https://dolceciabatta.com/) where I ordered my morning coffee and an eclair that I would come to love for the rest of eternity. 

Jenna and I headed out in the afternoon to SideBar (https://www.sidebarlbg.com/eats) in Leesburg  to test out their happy hours for our first time. We spent hours this afternoon eating, drinking and chatting away. I have to say this is a memory that I will treasure, it was so good to visit with my sister one on one as grown adult women, an opportunity I don’t believe we truly ever had before. Jenna and I enjoyed the General Tso’s Cauliflower, Maple Sriracha Wings, SideBar Fries and Calamari. If you haven’t been to SideBar Happy Hour you’re truly missing out! GO NOW! 

After our afternoon dining experience I forced Jenna to take me to all the local TJ Maxx locations. We explored around hitting up Nothing Bundt Cakes (https://www.nothingbundtcakes.com/) before heading home. I ordered the White Chocolate Raspberry, my all time favorite. 

Prior to my arrival Bradley had planned several activities for us to enjoy in the evening one of which was building gingerbread houses and activities I had never participated in before. We had such a great time sitting around the coffee table as a family decorating our houses throughout the rest of night. I strove to one up them by adding a stained glass window in my house by using my phone’s flashlight and a half eaten gumdrop. Can you tell I am still impressed with my artistic abilities? 

Tuesday, December 8th 

Again I forced Jenna to rise from her slumber and make me the very requested repeat breakfast from a few days prior. I am telling you, it is good! We headed out shortly thereafter for a wine tasting at Cooper’s Hawk (https://chwinery.com/). I enjoyed this opportunity as I had heard Jenna and Bradley rave about the wine and educational experience since moving out to Virginia.  

As we were still full from breakfast we headed out to Mt. Defiance Cidery & Distillery (https://mtdefiance.com/). We were given the opportunity to order glasses of wine, due to the pandemic flights being unavailable. The cider pours were generous and tasted great. Bradley had a good cracking up session by himself at our table for still an unknown reason. We chatted here for sometime in this beautiful building before heading out. I did purchase a bottle of the Blueberry Cider and Jenna picked up some local mustard and jams they had for sale. We popped in and out of shops in Gainesville before heading to dinner.  

After much debate we enjoyed our dinner at Out of the Blue (https://www.outoftheblue.restaurant/). We enjoyed our shared order of calamari and shrimp. Bradley enjoyed his oysters. I was not a fan of the lobster roll bringing me to the realization I only appreciate a lobster roll if it is Connecticut style. Jenna ate scallops that we subpar for the pricing. We hit up another TJ Maxx on our way back toward home. After a dissatisfied dinner we snug a late night treat in at SideBar ordering some calamari that we shared together in the local parking garage. It was a simple but memorable experience together. I ordered some maple sriracha wings to dive into late at night since I was heading out of town the next day.  

Upon our arrival home Bradley got to work on the gingerbread cookies. As a family we spent the rest of the evening around the coffee table decorating and watching Christmas movies. 

Wednesday, December 9th 

Once we rolled out of bed in the morning we enjoyed a simple breakfast with coffee at home. Around the noon hour Jenna made me homemade gluten free breaded pickles which were incredible. I ordered Pho-Nomenal (https://www.phonomenalashburn.com/menus) for lunch to arrive at the house. I ordered several types of Summer Rolls which came with an outstanding peanut sauce. We also ordered 4 Sisters Asian Snack Bar (https://www.foursisterssnackbar.com/) boba drinks as a last treat before I packed up my belongings and headed to the airport. 

In the evening I landed safely back home in Chicago where I was greeted by my parents. Thank you Virginia for another amazing stay. I look forward to spending time outside at the wineries during a summer visit in the future.

[beefybuffybucky]

Apples at the Market

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader - 40s!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

Request: could you please do a Bucky request for me please? where Bucky comes back and realises that he won't be able to see you again since he married you in the 40's. he tries to make a recipe that the remembers you cooking him all the time and he breaks down because its doesn't taste the same. In the end can you make it that you actually went through the same process as him to be a super soldier and stuff and you eventually meet? sorry if its too long but its been on my mind for weeks and I would love you to write it because I love the way you write! thank you xx

Warnings: angst - fluff - language

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: It was so much fun writing this prompt, omg. I actually really love baking and had a super chill time going through my great grandma’s recipes to find the perfect ones for this fic. I really hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Bucky’s P.O.V

We were married in the autumn, Y/N and I. It was an outdoor wedding, in the middle of a lush, mystical forest up-state. The leaves were deep reds, sweet oranges, and brilliant yellows, and each gust of wind that would dance through the trees’ branches created an intoxicating melody of calmness, the leaves flutter down around us, landing gracefully on the ground. It was a small wedding, just us, Steve, a priest, and a few of our neighbors. I never really cared that there weren’t a lot of people - all I could focus on was her mesmerizing smile, her bright, joyful eyes, and the radiating glow of happiness she emitted around her. Her long, white dress floated elegantly over the fallen leaves. Her hair was done-up in a high bun, pinned curls framing her face. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life - she was the woman of my dreams.

Even after we got married, every day after was like living the same perfect dream over and over again. On Saturdays, we would wake up a little earlier and go to a small farmer’s market near our apartment building. Her favorite fruit was apples, and we would leave the market with a whole bag of ‘em, and in the autumn, we would bring home a pumpkin, too. She would make this absolutely killer apple crumble from the apples we had bought earlier in the day, and for dinner, we would make a pumpkin soup together in between little breaks of dancing and stealing light kisses. Saturdays were always my favorite - just being around her was enough to make my heart flutter with joy - but now, each passing day just reminds me of how I lost, and never even got to say goodbye to the love of my life. Even after HYDRA did everything in their power to make me forget - to make me into their weapon - I was always able to hang on to one memory: her.

The oven’s timer beeping brings me out of my trance. I get up from my stool, pushing it back under the counter of the kitchen island, and grab an oven mitt. When I pull down the oven door, a wall of heat hits my face, lightly burning my eyes and making it a bit hard to breathe. The smell of cinnamon and apples drifting from the oven is intoxicating as it swirls and mixes with the silent air hanging heavily on my shoulders. I set the hot pan on a hot-pad next to the stove, taking off the mitt to stir the simmering, pumpkin-orange soup. Outside, a light snow begins to fall, the delicate flakes landing on the window above the sink, quickly melting away and trailing down the glass pane. The first snowfall of the year…

Y/N loved the first snowfall. The last time I saw her during the first fall, we were out for a stroll, just popping our heads into small shops in the city, enjoying the clear, chilly night, when the flakes began to drop.

We were both tucked into our winter coats, her arm locked through mine, the bustle of the crowd swarming around us. Stopping at a corner to cross a street, a few delicate snowflakes begin to twirl out of the sky and drift to our feet. A smile blossoms on her face. It’s one of those ear-to-ear, goofy smiles that are contagious. I turn to her, watching as her eyes cast to the sky in awe. A few flakes settle on her hair, and one lands on her cheek. I bring my gloved hand to her face, using my thumb to brush it away. She leans into my touch, closing her eyes and humming. I lean down and press a light kiss to her soft lips, savoring the taste of her as I try to capture this moment in my mind. I slowly pull away and open my eyes, locking my gaze with hers. Y/N giggles and I gently rest my forehead against hers.

“I love you,” I whisper, my breath puffing into the air.

“I love you too, James,” she smiles as she stands on her toes, pressing her lips to mine again.

A quiet tear sliding down my face painfully drags me back to reality. I brace my hands against the smooth counter top and take in a shaky breath. Opening the drawer near my stomach, I grab a fork and cut into the crumble, the hot steam from the apples slowly drifting away like flames licking at logs in a fire. I bring the fork to my mouth, the hot crumble slightly burning my tongue.

I've made this recipe at least a hundred times, trying to find just the right amount of ingredients that would make the crumble taste like Y/N’s. But nothing ever worked. There was always something missing every, single, time. I just want some way to have her back in my life...to have some sort of...of a connection back to her even though she's long gone.

In a wild burst of frustration and anger, I forcefully throw the whole pan of the crumble into the sink, sending loud clanging noises and its contents flying everywhere. Apple chunks and crumbs scatter over the countertops as the pan ricochets out of the sink and clatters on the floor, and a dull burning sensation radiates from my fingertips.

It’s burden to breathe. More tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I lean back against the counter, the stone pushing into my lower back, and I cross my arms over my chest. A sob threatens to shake through my body, and my lip quivers as I try to suppress it, but it erupts in my throat any ways and a strangled choke escapes from my throat. My legs suddenly feel weak and I drop to the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around my head. The air around me feels like it's suffocating me. Anxiety and burning hatred tingle through my veins, threatening to override my senses. Hot tears bleed into the sleeves of my shirt, but I don't care. Thoughts crash into my mind, shrouding out reality - the shitty, stupid reality that she'll never come back into my life.

Y/N’s P.O.V

You've been trying to adjust to life for the past year. After being a HYDRA captive for nearly seventy years, you managed to escape, create an alias, and settle down in an apartment using the money you had taken from the organization. Most of the time, they kept you frozen like the other soldiers they began to experiment with, only thawing you out whenever they needed a sort of last resort.

After James had left for the war, you relied a lot on Steve for support, until he, too, eventually left. A few months later, you were out at the market buying more apples to make a crumble for a family dinner when you were forcefully dragged into an alleyway, knocked out, and taken. You never even saw your attackers coming. When you woke up, you were in a cell, scared shitless, and aching pains raged in every joint, muscle, and bone of your body.

You endured a solid six months of training and mind manipulation as HYDRA molded your mind and body into their perfect rendition of a weapon of mass destruction.

But that was all behind you now.

Even though the manipulation mutilated your mind and controlled your memories, you were never able to let go of James. The fact that you never knew what happened to him eats away at you each and every day, but, somehow, you're able to drag yourself out of bed and carry on living.

You've never bothered to reach out to Steve - the very thought of it made your stomach churn in fear of the type of memories that talking to him face-to-face may bring up. Every time you see his picture on T.V., or in a magazine, or even on a billboard, old, faint memories of James and him would surface. The three of you were inseparable, and the pain of not having James in your life was hard enough, let alone being in the same room as Stevie and not hearing James cracking jokes or watching him playfully make fun of Steve. You'd give anything to be able to go back in time and stop them from leaving, just to see James one last time…

The train slowing to a stop slightly jerks your body forward, and your shoulder bumps into the person standing next to you. The doors slide open, and people rush out like a wave crashing on a shoreline. Saturdays guaranteed a packed commuted into downtown. You follow the flow of bodies and walk towards the stairs heading to the streets above.

Overcast clouds make the wind blowing between the buildings colder than it should be. Winter was pressing in, and any day now, snow would begin to fall. You've always loved the first snow ever since you were a kid. The snowflakes would lure you into a trance, captivating you for hours. The first snow also reminded you of James. His touch was as light as a fresh snowflake, yet powerful enough to reassure you he would never leave you, like the biting cold of the winter. But, like snow in the spring, that promise melted away as soon as he left to serve.

Something runs into your legs, shaking you from your thoughts. You look down, blinking, and see a bubbly toddler staring up at you with an open mouth. Their dad runs up and quickly apologizes, scooping the toddler into his arms.

“Oh, no worries,” you smile. The man walks back over to where another man with an empty stroller was standing and passes the child into his arms. He bounces the baby playfully and boops his nose. The sight ignites a flick of joy in your heart.

A buzzing of people swarms around the market's carts. Just down the way, you spot the cart with the best apples you've ever tasted, and you happily stride towards it. An old man with bright, white, wispy hair and a red apron sits on a stool behind the cart, reading a newspaper. He looks up at you above the paper and greets you with a large smile.

“Mornin’, love,” his thick accent is charming and playful. “How many can I getchya?” He reaches for a paper bag under the cart.

“G’mornin’, Ed,” you smile back. “Can you get me four today? I have a lot of baking to do.”

The old man picks out four, juicy, brilliantly red apples and puts them in the bag, rolling down the top to close it.

“Here ya are, darlin’,” he smiles as he hands you the bag over the cart. “See ya next Saturday?”

“Like always,” you chuckle as you hand him the money you owed. “Bye, Ed!” You wave as you start to turn around, but run into something hard. You drop the bag, an apple rolling out onto the ground. “O-oh man, I’m so sorry.” You quickly crouch down to pick up the bag and the loose apple when the stranger moves to grab the apple at the same time. Their gloved hand brushes passed yours, grabbing the fruit and handing it out to you. You look up, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

It...it’s James.

He has longer hair tucked into a ball cap and wore a heavy jacket over a black shirt. A beard covers his jaw and fades into his neck, his grey-blue eyes frozen in disbelief.

You can’t find the breath to speak as you stare at him, truly believing that this man, this stranger, could possibly be -

“Y/N?” He mumbles. You both stand at the same time. It...it c-can’t be…

“J-James?” You blink away tears pricking at your tired eyes. His eyes widen and tears begin to well along the bottom of his own eyes. You step closer to him. “Is it...it-it can’t be, there’s no way,” you swallow as a single tear races down your cheek.

He brings a large, gloved hand to your cheek and wipes away the warm tear. You instinctively lean into his comforting touch, giving into the wild fantasy that this man standing before you truly is James.

“It’s really you,” he breathes. His lower lip quivers and he bites down on it. “Am I...are you real?”

“Y-yes James, I am,” you smile through more tears gently cascading down your face.

“What are you doing here?” He asks. “How are you here?”

“I’m sure I could be asking you the same exact thing,” you chuckle in disbelief. “I, uh...I come here every Saturday to buy a-apples for baking. Ed’s my favorite guy to get ‘em from. I use them in my -”

“Crumble,” he finishes my sentence. “You don’t know how long I’ve been trying to remake that recipe,” he chuckles through a few silent tears.

“Why don’t you come back to my apartment,” you ask. “I can show you how to make it, and I have all the things to make pumpkin soup, so we could -”

He cuts you off again by pulling you into his arms. You immediately wrap your arms around him as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispers, his voice muffled by your scarf. “I promise...I’ll never leave you like that again.” He painfully pulls back from your embrace. “I just still can’t believe it’s you.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” you laugh. He extends the apple in his hand to you, and you grab it, dropping it back into the bag. You turn back to the cart a few feet away, squeezing between two other people. “Hey Ed,” you breathe. “I’m gonna need a few more apples.”

Tags: @randyortontattoos @wotlydia @theraputicwritings @isaxhorror @hollycornish @awinterloveuniverse @buckyisloved

[josephkitchen0]

Agritourism: A Money-Making Agriculture Business

By Heidi Kerr-Schlaefer, Colorado

Can inviting farm visitors fuel a successful money making agriculture business? It’s called agritourism and yes, it can!

The words, “fun on the farm,” were probably not coined by a farmer. After all, farming is hard work, but today, people around the country are looking to experience fun on a farm. Through agritourism activities, farmers are finding all sorts of ways to accommodate them, and in doing so, farmers are not only educating the public on their industry, but are running a money-making agriculture business.

Agritourism is a broad term covering a variety of activities that most Americans have participated in at some point, whether they have visited a farm stand or taken their child to a local pumpkin patch.

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Some states are proactively helping farmers add agritourism components to their farms, and one such state is Colorado.

While most people see Colorado as a ski and adventure destination, the state was built on agriculture and it is still a thriving industry. Tourism is Colorado’s second largest industry, and therefore, bringing agriculture and tourism together makes a lot of sense. Today, Colorado is the only state in the country that has dedicated funding for agritourism.

Once the Colorado Tourism Organization created the Colorado Heritage and Agritourism Program (CHAP), they realized that there needed to be another association that could handle things like legislation and fundraising. On January 31, 2014, the nonprofit Colorado Agritourism Association (CAA) was born.

“The Colorado Heritage and Agritourism Program does all the marketing and promotion and the CAA does product development; business planning, website development, legislation, insurance and issues related to sign code and zoning,” says Kelli Hepler, director of the Colorado Agritourism Association. “We are paving the way for folks to step into agritourism here in Colorado.”

Perhaps the most important item the newly formed CAA was able to check off their to-do list was the passage of Colorado House Bill 1280, signed by Governor Hickenlooper on June 6, 2014. The bill provided much-needed legal protection for farmers participating in agritourism by limiting the liability of farmers and ranchers in activities related to this money-making agriculture business.

Even prior to the passage of HB 1280, Colorado’s agritourism industry was growing. According to the 2012 US Census, the newest numbers available, out of 36,000 Colorado farms, 2.4 percent claimed an average of $33,000 per farm in added income from agritourism.

The Living Farm

Tom and Lynn Gillespie of The Living Farm are proof that agritourism isn’t new to Colorado. The farm, located in Paonia, has been in the family for four generations.

The Gillespie family built their first greenhouse in 1987, and in 1990 they started growing hydroponic tomatoes. By the early 90s, people wanted to see what the Gillespies were up to and Lynn started running tours. Today, the farm is a well-oiled agritourism machine and includes five greenhouses, chickens, pigs, turkeys and a large flock of sheep.

The family also owns The Living Farm Café in downtown Paonia, population 1,400. Operated by Lynn and Tom’s son, Chef Mike Gillespie, the café serves farm-to-table meals with almost 100 percent of the food served having been raised one-mile away on The Living Farm. The café also serves as an inn, renting the five rooms above the restaurant to hungry tourists.

The Living Farm also sells their goods at local grocery stores and through their CSA (Community Supported Agriculture).

In the beginning, Lynn Gillespie’s farm tours were free, but she quickly realized that she couldn’t get any work done with people popping in at all hours of the day.

“We’ve formalized the tours,” she says. “We’ve set up a program where people can drop in and tour at specific times or they can get online and request a group or VIP tour. Folks can go to www.thelivingfarm.org/farm-tours and see how we set them up.”

Gillespie also started charging for her tours; individuals are $6, groups start at $25 and a VIP package that includes an overnight stay at the inn and breakfast at the café is $160.

“If someone goes to the movies they pay $8 to $10 for a ticket,” says Gillespie. “Farmers need to know that they do not need to tour everybody for free.”

The Living Farm does offer one free program. Lamb Loving takes place Wednesday to Saturday throughout the spring lambing season. In the evening, from 7 to 8 p.m., guests may visit the barn and cuddle with lambs.

“When I set a lamb in a person’s lap, I don’t care what age the person is, their face beams like it is Christmas morning,” says Gillespie. “If I can give that kind of joy to someone for just 30 minutes, it’s totally worth it and I think that’s what this is all about.”

At the beginning of the year, Gillespie sits down and decides how much interaction The Living Farm will have with the public and she sticks to her rules. The farm comes first, of course, and she stresses that anyone interested in going this route with their farm or ranch must realize this money-making agriculture business is different than farming.

“You’ve got to greet visitors with a smile,” she says. “This is not making produce. It’s a service and your tour has to be well thought out. Your place needs to look nice and you have to be nice.”

Scenes from The Horse & Hen Ranch near Hayden, Colorado

The Horse & Hen

Ryan and Rachel Wattles joke that their foray into agritourism was an accident, although Ryan admits that for him it presented the opportunity to quit his day job and stay on the ranch full time.

Their family ranch is located in Hayden, Colorado, population 1,800. Just 20 miles west of Steamboat Springs, the ranch was bought by Ryan’s great-grandfather in 1935. Seventy-five years later, Ryan and Rachel, with their 6-week-old daughter in tow, moved from Fort Collins, Colorado, to Hayden to work the ranch.

In the beginning, the Wattles raised goats and hay, but have since sold the goat herd and are turning their attention towards cattle. The property includes three residences; two historic homes and a brand new country-style house. As soon as the big house was built the Wattles began hosting a steady stream of friends and relatives who wanted to have a farm experience.

“Everyone who visited had a ball and loved it here,” says Rachel. “That’s sort of what put the idea of starting a bed and breakfast in our heads.”

The Wattles decided to explore agritourism in Colorado and toured the areas where it was happening. After this tour, they assessed their ranch and their personal skills and decided that adding a bed and breakfast made sense as a money-making agriculture business.

Making the dream a reality, however, wasn’t an easy road. Rachel discovered that there were a tremendous amount of county government hoops to jump through, and finding insurance to cover the “farm stay” portion of the business was tough. In the end, they couldn’t afford an insurance package that would cover horseback riding, so they cut out that part of the original business plan.

While guests can’t ride any of the Horse & Hen’s horses, there are lots of other farm and ranch activities that they may participate in including milking Norma the cow, collecting eggs and helping in the garden. The area around Hayden is rich in birding and hunting so the Wattles are working to tap into that lodging market as well.

While the bed and breakfast is booked solid during summer weekends, the Wattles want ranching to remain their focus. For instance, every animal on their ranch serves a purpose. The chickens give eggs, the cow gives milk, the pigs are raised for meat and the Great Pyrenees dog watches closely over their few remaining goats.

“We don’t want this to be a horse and pony show,” says Rachel. “This is a real working ranch.”

Today, Rachel works one-day a week as an art teacher at the local school and Ryan spends his time working on the ranch where he occasionally uses a team of draft horses; an ode to the way his grandfather and great-grandfather worked the ranch in the past.

Ryan’s favorite part of running the bed and breakfast is watching guests’ children connect with ranch life.

“To me, it’s really important that kids have the opportunity to see this type of lifestyle because only two percent of Americans are in agriculture today,” says Ryan.

The Wattles now have two girls and believe the toughest thing about adding an agritourism component to their farm was determining their personal boundaries and meeting the expectations of their guests. Their home, for instance, is off limits to guests. Rachel has also turned off her online booking option because she likes to connect with people via phone or email when they book a room.

“A lot of people think that they are going to be staying in our family home or that they will be having dinner with us, which is not the case,” she says. “Having email or phone contact with them lets me explain what we are really all about here. It lets me set expectations in advance.”

The Mountain Goat Lodge

Nestled in the hills outside of the artsy community of Salida, Colorado, population 5,400, is a bed and breakfast with a goat twist. This unique lodging establishment is home to goats, chickens, ducks, dogs, a llama and a cat.

Gina Marcell ran a goat rescue outside of Seattle, Washington, for a number of years, but longed to be in the sunshine. She wanted a place where she could raise goats and run a money-making agriculture business, and in 2010 she found a bed and breakfast for sale in Salida. She moved her small farm to Colorado and opened the Mountain Goat Lodge.

The Mountain Goat Lodge in Salida, Colorado.

“When I wrote my business plan, I wrote that goats were going to be an integral part of the business. To me, it’s all about the goats, and the bed and breakfast is just sort of a front for having them,” says Marcell. “I also stated in my business plan that I wanted to educate people and enlighten them on how wonderful goats are.”

Marcell is doing just that. Her bed and breakfast is busy year round with workshops on goat care, cheese making and raising backyard chickens. She recently played host to a yoga retreat, introducing her establishment to an entirely new demographic, as well as workshops on subjects like soap-making and canning.

In addition to the workshops and livestock, Marcell grows a flourishing garden despite her farm being located at more than 7,000 feet above sea level. She utilizes a large, round greenhouse that also serves as a cold weather getaway for her guests.

Thanks to the greenhouse and the chickens, Marcell’s breakfasts are farm fresh throughout the year.

Marcell has found the internet to be an invaluable resource for agritourism information and help.

“There are forums, Facebook pages, and associations,” says Marcell. “You can get a lot of help from people who are already doing this. When something weird comes up, you can go online for help.”

They recently just opened cute “glamping” cabins for the more modern tourist.

Connect, Connect, Connect

The Living Farm, Horse & Hen, and Mountain Goat Lodge all have one thing in common: their owners have made connections with their visitors and their communities.

The Wattles’ bed and breakfast stays full thanks to the personal connections they have made with their guests.

“Word-of-mouth has been huge for us,” says Rachel. “That’s pretty much all the marketing we’ve done besides the website and Facebook.”

As The Living Farm has proven, the farm-to-table, or farm-to-fork, movement is another way for farmers to get connected.

“With the farm-to-fork movement and the interest in local food, people are shopping at farmers markets and this has helped consumers get to know the farmer personally,” says Penny Leaf, agritourism coordinator in the University of California Small Farm Program.

Hepler, director of CAA, adds that consumers seem to care about farming much more than they used to and she points out that meeting a farmer often results in a willingness by the consumer to pay a higher price for that farmer’s product.

Lynn Gillespie thinks it goes even deeper.

“I think it’s important for farmers in agritourism to remember that people are coming to your farm to get connected and it’s important to connect them,” she says. “Whether you connect them through a cute little sheep or chicken, you need to fulfill that need — that hole in them that needs to be filled.”

The Rest of The Story

Colorado is not the only state where agritourism is flourishing. Colorado crafted HB 1280 on a successful Maine agritourism bill and agritourism success stories can be found in California, Vermont, New Jersey, Virginia, Tennessee and Kentucky.

A recently released study of Tennessee’s agritourism industry by researchers with the University of Tennessee Institute of Agriculture estimates that the economic impact of agritourism in the state more than doubled between 2006 and 2012.

While states like Maine and Colorado have passed bills that allow farmers and ranchers to run their agritourism operations with some liability protection, not all states have passed such legislation. In California, a state that’s been involved in agritourism for more than 50 years, no such legislation exists.

“Every county has their own rules and California has 58 counties,” says Leff. “So in each county there is a very slow movement to revise their general plans and ordinances so as to loosen some of the regulations. But permitting is probably the biggest challenge and liability is also a challenge.”

Leff went on to say that most of the agritourism in California is organized on a local level with county associations, farm trail groups and groups of farmers who are doing collaborative promotions of their farms and region.

Cooperation seems to be a key factor to successfully implementing agritourism as a money-making agriculture business.

There are several national organizations that can help a business with agritourism. The North American Farmers Direct Marketing Association (NAFDMA) is a “membership-based trade association dedicated to providing endless peer-to-peer learning opportunities, connections, and resources, for farmers who are passionate about the business of agritourism and farm direct marketing” (www.farmerinspired.com).

The National Agritourism Promoters Association (NAPA) works to create sustainable prosperity for agritourism venues through commitment to research, current information and personal mentoring.

The Gillespies, Wattles, and Marcell, stress the importance of taking small steps towards the agritourism implementation. A farmer may want to start with just one farm tour a month, in the beginning, to see how it goes.

“Hospitality is a big part of agritourism and it’s not for everybody,” says Hepler.

Leff urges farmers to check with their neighbors and county government before wading into agritourism waters. She warns that upset neighbors are sometimes the biggest barrier to a successful agritourism business.

For those who do take the plunge and do it properly, agritourism has many rewards, and the industry continues to grow.

“There is a big demand,” says Leff. “The tourism industry is very anxious for more places they can write about and more places they can send people. Right now, agritourism is really exciting.”

Heidi Kerr-Schlaefer is a freelance writer from Loveland, Colorado, and specializes in travel and tourism.

Things to Know Before Starting Your Agritourism Business

Is It Legal?

It’s important to check with your county government before starting any agritourism business no matter how small. There may be county rules regulating what you can and can’t do on your land. Beware of the rules before spending any time or money on agritourism.

Will It Bother Your Neighbors?

Neighbors can be the biggest challenge to a farm that wants to start agritourism on their property. Will your neighbors mind the increased traffic? Will your neighbors mind the signage? It’s wise to chat about your agritourism ideas with your neighbors before moving ahead with any plans.

What Is Your Liability?

When you invite someone onto your land, you are subject to legal liability if they get hurt. While some states have passed legislation limiting liability for farmers involved in agritourism, many have not. However, there are ways to limit your liability even without legislation in place. Go online to see the “Top 10 Ways to Limit Your Liability When Visitors Comes to Your Farm” by Anita K. Poole, Kerr Center for Sustainable Agriculture.

Do You Understand Hospitality?

Hospitality is the friendly reception and treatment of guests and strangers. Hospitality is vital to a successful agritourism business, and while agritourism occurs on a farm or ranch it is very different from farming and ranching. Take an assessment of your personal skills and those of your employees before embarking down the agritourism path.

Author’s Note: “Biosecurity” involves preventative measures designed to reduce the risk of transmission of infectious diseases in crops and livestock. According to the individuals interviewed for this article, biosecurity is a non-issue when it comes to agritourism. In these cases, farmers are not worried about the public bringing infectious livestock diseases onto their farms because it is unlikely these visitors have been around livestock. Biosecurity is more of a concern for large, industrial-sized farms and ranches, and these types of businesses do not usually participate in agritourism activities.

Originally published in Countryside September/October 2015 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

Agritourism: A Money-Making Agriculture Business was originally posted by All About Chickens

[djseaward]

autumn dreamland

one thing i really like about living in české budějovice is its proximity to some pretty interesting places. we are only two hours from both prague to the north and linz, austria to the south. of course, because of international public transport tariffs, prague is by far the more affordable place to head of the two when you've got a free day and wanna soak up some big(ger) city lovin'. especially if you are a loyal české dráhy (czech trains) customer like i am and rack up enough points on the regular to earn free train tickets (public service announcement: if you live in the czech republic and frequently travel with public transportation, there is no reason not to be doing this). frugality win!

we headed there last saturday for a proper dosage of all good fall things. in the morning, we started with the karlín farmer's market at karlínské náměstí. what enjoyable fall weather it was to stroll around the beautiful church, have a cup of fruit juice here and a zelňák there. zelňáky -- essentially a flat, savory sauerkraut biscuit -- i have been told are specialties of the south bohemian region but the zelňáky from the pekárna at this farmer's market are amazing - a bit breadier and softer. get in on that!

above, definitely a fan of the exterior of the church of saints cyril and methodius in karlin square. beautiful churches seem to be in every square in the city, but this one is really nice.

after a spot of shopping, we fueled up at our favorite ramen place. i cannot sing the praises enough of ramen kitchen on 28.října street near můstek. the prices have definitely gone up in the 3+ years since its inception -- with a location like that, who can blame them -- but the ramen is always top-notch and the service always kind and friendly. alex requested this stop particularly as there is nothing better when you have a cold than hot steamy asian noodles! (or anytime, really)

what better after lunch than a lazy wander around the streets of old town? this is one of my absolute favorite prague things to do, no matter the season. well, maybe besides the summer seasons as the streets are more likely to be absolutely crushed with tourists, but it's good most any old time of year. 

it reminds me of the days that i was (f)unemployed in january over four years ago; had no money and nothing but time to create my own cheap entertainment. i would walk from our flat in malá strana across the charles bridge with something of a loose goal in mind but with no real time limit. and man, can you ever get twisted and turned around in those winding streets! but that's the beauty of the old town quarter, i think. go where it looks nice and maybe you'll wind up in a secret lane, square, or at a cute kavárna that you've never seen before and probably won't see again. highly recommended for broke wanderers! (tangent alert!) which reminds me of this scavenger hunt - deeep in this blog’s archives - we did that month! so fun to participate in that.... click over if you want to see some winter prague silliness from two people with a lot of time on their hands; it’s good for a laugh.

although the charles bridge usually remains packed with people on a saturday afternoon in fair weather, i really just do not care. as long as its not signal fest bad, it is one of the highlights of my day (or even week) to have the pleasure to stand on or walk across this dear bridge. to be on charles bridge is the single strongest reminder that i feel like i'm living a dream. i live here. this is my life. absolutely unreal - feels so alive to me. of course you can always find yourself with more solitude in the early morning or late evening, but it doesn't matter to me. i don't see crowds, i just feel the energy.

of course, no autumn season is complete without the annual pumpkin spice latte stop (amirite?) at the malostranské náměstí starbucks before a walk up the street i used to live on and up to petřín hill! spending a sunny autumn afternoon in prague walking around petřín as the yellow leaves fall on you -- peering out at this great city, speaking about big hopes, dreams, and ideas -- this is also a must do.

although there are plenty of great parks and spaces to stroll around in the capital, there's something for me about petřín. it's one of my favorites; seeming so imbued with the history of hundreds of years of praguers, history and culture coming together. i also secretly wished i had another stomach in order to partake in tasty treats at one of the many lovely refreshment stands near the top. the sun went lower and lower behind the hills as we sat on a bench and talked until it got a bit cooler.

alex wasn't feeling a hundred percent, so we barely managed to catch the fast express back to budejovice. this train is on a line through austria, finally ending in zürich, switzerland - what a reminder that you live in the middle of europe to board a zurich bound train, i'll tell ya. it made only one stop in tábor before pausing in budejovice long enough for us to jump out of -- pretty sweet! (file away in memory if i ever want to take a sleeper car to zürich)

the next morning, i awoke in my own bed in budejovice to the pattering of falling rain. grey skies? morning rain? can you believe this washingtonian was excited? although we sometimes get rainy mornings, most often the climate here is clear and sunny, so a rainy morning when you don't have to go anywhere feels really special. it almost feels like when it snows and you just don't want it to stop! time to put the kettle on and get cozy!

i pulled on my rain jacket to meet a friend (hi nat!) at the houseboat cafe, newly opened this summer. ohhhhh, what is better than a houseboat + falling rain in the autumn? nothing. the answer is there is literally nothing better. to sip a cappuccino, chat, and watch the yellow leaves float by, giving the appearance that we are actually motoring somewhere. to autumn dreamland, i suppose.

ps, more prague & czech life in the autumn in the posts “prahably october”, “prague autumn magic”, and “indian summer”.

this post is a part of wanderful wednesday.

[junker-town]

NFL Dad, Week 7: You can’t fight the Pumpkin Industrial Complex

Every week, our NFL Dad tries to watch the full slate of RedZone Channel action while parenting two toddlers. This week: costume parties, pumpkins, and a distinct lack of drama.

I don’t care for the annual pumpkin craze, but I refuse to harsh anyone’s pumpkin high. I won’t rail against pumpkin spice lattes, I won’t scoff at pumpkin beers, and I won’t even make an official statement against pumpkin yogurt pretzels or pumpkin smoothies. I believe that apples are the better seasonal food, but taste is subjective (even if you don’t recognize that “pumpkin” flavor is just clove and cinnamon). Regardless, your pumpkin habit doesn’t affect my enjoyment of autumn.

This mindset is probably why I went along with my wife’s desire to go to a pumpkin patch on Saturday. Yes, my daughter already went apple-picking, but my son (almost 18 months) had never been to a pumpkin patch, so we needed to give him that experience. Could we buy a slightly overpriced pumpkin at the nearby farmer’s market? Sure, but that would be easy.

Instead, because we live in a dumb city unfit for parents and car owners, we rent a Zipcar for the morning, drive 90 minutes to a Long Island pumpkin patch that serves 4 million New Yorkers eager to avoid driving to a REAL farm in the Hudson Valley, fail to take a picture of the two kids in the pumpkins together, and survive an epic in-car meltdown from my daughter before hitting standstill traffic on the way back to the city. Oh, and my son slept for 20 minutes in the car, ruining his afternoon nap.

BUT AT LEAST WE GOT PUMPKINS! PRECIOUS MEMORIES AND TWO PUMPKINS FOR THE LOW LOW PRICE OF FIVE HOURS OF UNHAPPY CHILDREN. FIVE F**KING STARS, WOULD WASTE MY TIME AGAIN.

Pumpkins are dumb flavorless squashes and I hate them.

EARLY GAMES, FIRST HALF

— The Saints-Packers matchup, which SHOULD be a Drew Brees-Aaron Rodgers shootout, will instead be a referendum on Brett Hundley in his first pro start. In the rain. WOOF.

Early in the game, Hundley draws the Saints offsides for a free play, but underthrows Davante Adams deep. It illuminates the problem with anyone who backs up Aaron Rodgers: even if they’ve learned his tricks of the trade, they don’t have the sheer talent to produce the same magic that he does. (The drive ends with an Aaron Jones sprint up the gut of the defense. 7-0, Green Bay.)

— The Rams, playing the Cardinals in London, are wearing their white-and-gold uniforms with the white horns on the helmets. Such an awful look. Anything reminiscent of the St. Louis era should be burned in a Dumpster YES EVEN KURT WARNER.

But for real, just wear the blue and yellow every week. It looks way better.

— Green Bay intercepts Brees in the end zone, but when I wake up from my nap the Saints have fought back to tie the game at seven. Briefly, anyway: Hundley runs it in to reclaim the lead and get his first Lambeau Leap.

— The Jaguars are stomping the Colts 17-0. There’s not much to say here, except Leonard Fournette isn’t playing and T.J. Yeldon looks capable in his stead. There’s nothing about the Jacoby Brissett offense that suggests it’s built to overcome a three-score lead against a very good defense. I’m happy to write this one off — and judging by the TV coverage, so is RedZone.

— Jameis Winston is playing with a sprained AC joint, and he looks off-target. Well, more off-target than usual. He underthrows one receiver, then throws off-target on a screen before getting strip-sacked. That tomahawk chop couldn’t have felt good on his injured shoulder.

— With the Bears up two scores, Mitchell Trubisky runs to the left on third and goal and dives for pylon. It’s ruled a touchdown initially, but overturned on review. Facing 4th and goal less than a yard out, John Fox opts to kick a field goal like the big ol’ coward he is.

Now, I’m getting ahead of myself in the diary, but I don’t want to talk about the Bears again, so let’s just get this dumb team out of the way. The Bears will go on to win thanks to Eddie Jackson’s two defensive touchdowns, which might make Chicago fans ignore the inherent John Fox-ness of their team’s play. I won’t hear any results-based defense of this trash team. Look at this!

The Bears are the first team to win a game while completing less than 5 passes since the 2011 Broncos. Tim Tebow was the QB of that team. http://pic.twitter.com/0RuRQYQDo3

— FOX Sports: NFL (@NFLonFOX) October 22, 2017

This is the drive chart of a team that won today. http://pic.twitter.com/UrjQyCEZUN

— Football Perspective (@fbgchase) October 22, 2017

The Bears earned zero first downs in the second half and became the first NFL team to win with fewer than five completed passes since ... the last time John Fox coached in the NFL. I’d rather have a block of cement coach my team.

— My daughter is up from her nap. She asks what’s happening on the TV. “The Browns are the brown team with orange helmets,” I say. “The Titans are the white team with blue pants. I like the Titans’ uniforms better. What do you think?”

She pauses for a moment. “I like the orange!” Such a shame that I have to disown her now.

— Todd Gurley freezes the Cardinals’ D with a jump-stop at line of scrimmage, then scampers around the left edge for a touchdown.

.@TG3II gets around the edge and is IN for SIX. #LARams http://pic.twitter.com/PMgvFG23T7

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

That possession came as a result of a Carson Palmer interception thrown while he got hit. Palmer seems unlikely to return (UPDATE: broken arm, he’s out 8 weeks), so we can go ahead and cross “Cardinals comeback” off the list. I’ve seen the Drew Stanton Show before.

— DeShone Kizer throws a pick that gets caught on the Titans’ 11-yard line. I have never in my life seen a quarterback commit red zone turnovers like this. He’s like the anti-Mariota.

That realization gives this useless field goal battle some semblance of meaning: Kizer and Mariota are diametrically opposed forces drawn together, as if they’re in a superhero movie like Unbreakable or Hancock. (Speaking of Unbreakable, shouts out to Sam Bradford, the undisputed Mr. Glass of the NFL.)

— With the Dolphins backed up to their own goal line, Jay Cutler throws an interception off a deflected pass. The Jets punch it in for a 21-14 lead. This game has been wildly entertaining throughout the first half, but I’m not wired to accept these teams playing an entertaining game.

— The Rams score another touchdown, this time on a Jared Goff read-option keeper. They’re up 20-0 near the end of the half, and Drew Stanton will have 40 seconds to throw an interception and give the Rams another chance to score.

Stanton’s first throw on the next drive: a pick directly to a Rams defender. I swear this is not some ex post facto insight I’ve edited in; I’ve just watched Drew Stanton before. So has the First Down France account:

Quelle honte Stanton. Scandaleux

— NFL France (@FirstDownFR) October 22, 2017

Scandaleux indeed! Greg Zuerlein kicks a 53-yarder, and the Rams go into halftime up 23-0.

EARLY GAMES, SECOND HALF

— I’m not usually in the business of highlighting irrelevant three-yard catches, but Christian McCaffrey warrants an exception:

.@run__cmc only needs ONE hand. WOW. #KeepPounding http://pic.twitter.com/lg8V13659I

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

Lots of masturbation jokes to be made in that tweet there. Not that I would think about them, because I am VERY MATURE. Father of young children over here.

(*audibly farts and tells the kids it’s a “barking spider”*)

— My wife is taking our kids to a Halloween-ish birthday party, which means costumes are welcome but not mandatory. My son will be a shark, my daughter will be a ghost, and my wife will be harried and stressed out.

I help my daughter into the stroller and put her shoes on, then assist my wife as she loads my son into our carrier (we like the flexibility and simplicity of the Beco carrier, in case you’ve made the mistake of having children and need a recommendation).

And then, at 2:51 p.m. Eastern time: They’re gone. My apartment is completely quiet except for the TV. I am tempted to sleep, to eat and drink everything in the house, to get on my bike and ride in the sunshine ... but I just keep watching RedZone. The whole premise of me missing the party is that I have to work.

So, I stay and watch Joe Thomas tear his triceps, leading to the first missed snap of his career. After 10,363 consecutive snaps, the NFL’s ironman exits the game. And on such a promising Browns team!

Jay Cutler’s consecutive sourpuss streak is safe.

— In Miami, Jay Cutler has also left the game with an injury, though his consecutive sourpuss streak is safe.

— I take my dog for a walk. Stella is a Rottweiler mix that I adopted three or four years before I met my wife, and the dog loves me despite the way I’ve filled her living space with small humans that don’t give adequate belly rubs and suck up the attention that used to go to her.

While outside, we run into a family that dog-sat Stella once, and she nuzzles them all and wags her nub fervently. I leave her outside while I duck into a grocery to buy a tallboy (prep for the Seahawks game), and when I come back she lies down on the pavement and rolls onto her side. No walking until she gets her belly rub.

I say a lot how fulfilling parenthood is (and it is!), but for the record: My life was also pretty kickass when it was just me and Stella.

— I return from the walk and look at my computer while catching up. Something about my TV seems blurry, like the players are in regular definition. Then I notice that I’m getting more Jets-Dolphins than I’ve seen all day. Is RedZone EVER going to show this O.J. Howard touchdown I’m reading about on Twitter?

And then I realize: I’m watching the local CBS feed of the Jets game. I must have pressed “2” with an inadvertent nudge of the remote. I feel like I should get some kind of detox or vaccination.

DOCTOR: And how long were you exposed to Jets-Dolphins?

ME: I dunno, maybe 10 minutes?

DOCTOR: OK, this should be fairly routine — [reads chart]. REGULAR DEFINITION?!?!

ME: Is that bad?

[alarm sounds] [lights flash]

DOCTOR: [on the phone] Yes sir, we’re locking down the wing to contain the infection.

— In order to justify my beautiful peace and quiet, I start folding laundry, which is by far and away the WORST chore. I thought laundry couldn’t get worse, then I had kids. “Oh, you hate folding laundry? What if you had to do it more often and everything was five times smaller?” If we could afford simple luxuries, the very first thing I’d throw money at would be a laundry service.

— With less than a minute left in regulation, the Browns are attempting a 54-yard field goal to tie a 9-6 game. What a sorry-ass state of affairs. Welp, it’s good. The Browns are celebrating, but why? What is there to celebrate when the result is additional Browns football?

[clapping in Roger Goodell’s face after every word] BAN REGULAR SEASON OVERTIME AND SEND TEAMS HOME WITH TIES.

— Cooper Kupp scores a touchdown on a screen to make it 33-0 in London. I know Kupp played college ball at Eastern Washington, but that’s a Big XII name if I’ve ever seen one. Whenever I see his name I just start making white person word salad with it until I come back to his name. Like this:

Coop Cooper

Scooper Coop

Copper Kopp

Pooker Puck

Pucker Pork

Rucker Corp

Kurper Carp

Cooper Kupp

Ahhhhh, that feels so nice in my brain. The only NFL name that’s better for that game is Blake Bortles.

— There are three tied games as the early slate winds down: Jets-Dolphins, Bucs-Bills, and the trash fire in Cleveland. In reverse order:

1. The Browns and Titans feebly do nothing for most of overtime before Mariota finally gets his team into field goal range. Ryan Succop hits a 47-yarder to end this miserable affair 12-9.

2. After a LeSean McCoy touchdown tied the game at 27, it looked like the Bucs would have a chance to win the game — except Adam Humphries coughs up the ball and the Bills recover in field goal range. Steven Hauschka hits a 30-yarder with 14 seconds left to win the game, but not before the Bucs pull off the longest, most competent failed lateralpalooza in NFL history.

The final play today in Buffalo... #TBvsBUF http://pic.twitter.com/2Raz5eyFNu

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

3. Josh McCown attempts to lead the Jets on a game-winning drive. Pretend you didn’t see this game or any highlights: Given that setup, how do you think this ends?

If you said, “McCown interception” without thinking, congratulations: You have seen NFL games before. The announcer scoffs, “15 years [in the league], you shouldn’t make that mistake.” Yeah, no shit. But that’s the result you deserve when “political activism” is a disqualifying factor in your quarterback search.

Cody Parkey kicks the game-winner for the Dolphins. Cardy Poker. Coder Party. Parker Podey. Porky Corder. Corky Pordy. Cody Parker. Ahhhh.

LATE GAMES, FIRST HALF

— In Santa Clara, the Niners fumble a punt return, giving Dallas a short field. Zeke Elliott punches it in, and folks, I don’t think the home team’s gonna be able to overcome this 7-0 deficit. It’s just too big a hole with too little time.

— The Seahawks are at the Giants this week, which means I have the relatively rare luxury of watching the local broadcast, which in turn means that this column is gonna kind of suck from here on out. I promise to flip to RedZone during commercials!

(Last week, the Seahawks were on bye, and I didn’t mention that stupid team’s name ONCE in the entire column. I never enjoy the NFL as much as when Seattle doesn’t play.)

— The late games I’ll be mostly ignoring: Cowboys-49ers, Bengals-Steelers, and Broncos-Chargers. I click over during commercial, and there’s Antonio Brown scoring on a slant. Like clockwork. It’s 7-0 Steelers.

— Last season, a lot of people made fun of Ben McAdoo for wearing a giant, oversized windbreaker. Seeing him this season, it’s now clear that he chose the XXL with the intent to fill it out. I’m not trying to fat-shame anyone; I love a coach with a longterm vision.

I won’t make fun of anyone’s perceived weight gain, but I definitely WILL make fun of McAdoo’s sunglasses and hair and game-planning and everything else about him, because he’s a total herb who can’t coach.

— It’s so quiet in this apartment. So calm. My favorite team is on television, and I am drinking a beer and watching them without any children vying for my attention. This is nice. I like it? Yes, I like it.

But I also kinda miss the chaos. Not the chaos itself, but my ability to lessen it. If my son falls and cries, I can pick him up and soothe him. But if the Seahawks have ten plays inside the 11-yard line and come away with zero points because they throw a goddamn FADE on fourth down and JIMMY GRAHAM DROPS IT, there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it. At least parenting offers a tiny piece of self-determination.

-- I wonder what my kids are doing, but, like, only during commercials. If my wife ever leaves me, she should do it during a Seahawks game. Automatic three-hour head start.

— Jason Witten makes a SPECTACULAR one-handed TD grab.

.@JasonWitten ONE HAND TOUCHDOWN CATCH! Beautiful. #DallasCowboys http://pic.twitter.com/nMWkMOIr6W

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

What a great catch by a tight end! Isn’t that right, JIMMY GRAHAM??!?

— Juju Smith-Schuster gets wide open for a touchdown, then celebrates with hide-and-seek.

Come for the @TeamJuJu TD catch. But stay for Hide & Seek. #HereWeGo http://pic.twitter.com/YDaoE7SMeJ

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

This is a perfectly fine celebration, but I also think a lot of fans are being too laudatory of anything that flies in the face of the old, crappy rules against celebrations. Like, hide-and-seek is a children’s game. The other week, Kyle Rudolph celebrated with a game of Duck, Duck, Goose/Grey Duck. Are we really going to think it’s cool or funny if players dance in a circle and sing “Ring Around the Rosie”? Trust me: As a man who has sung “Ring Around the Rosie” and fallen down two dozen times in the last three days, it’s not that great.

Ditch the kids’ games and come at me with something that rivals Colombia’s team salsa dance. I am not a crank.

— Thomas Rawls fumbles directly into Landon Collins’ arms. Collins returns the ball some 30-odd yards to set up a red zone possession for the Giants, whose offense suddenly comes to life to score in two plays. Evan Engram scores the touchdown on a play in which Eli Manning play-faked to no one. Cool. Cool cool cool.

I change into sweatpants. There is a knot in the jaw muscle near my temple.

— I get a text from wife. They’re leaving in about 15 minutes. Is she sure? Does she want to stay out a little later? Go ahead, let them play with their friends a little longer. They can stay up late and have some more cake. Bring ‘em back around 8:00. No?

— Doug Baldwin is briefly taken over by the collective spirit of Seahawks Twitter and shoves Tom Cable, the offensive line coach largely blamed as the root of the team’s horrid line play.

The full story comes out later: Baldwin was trying to make sure that Russell Wilson was being heard by the players; the wideout wanted the emphasis to be on the players’ failure to execute, not the coaches’ calls. He even apologized to Cable and said he loves him.

Which, as a Seahawks fan, I guess is fine. But I also would have been OK with Wilson and Baldwin saying, “It’s him or us.”

— Good night, Dre Kirkpatrick:

The Bengals are 100% losing this game. You don’t recover from that.

— Zeke Elliott scores his third touchdown of the day, a 72-yard catch and run that puts the 49ers to bed.

LATE GAMES, SECOND HALF

— I run a bath and heat up the kids’ dinner. It’s a little after 6:00 p.m., and we’re going to have to hustle to keep the kids on schedule for their 7:00 bedtime.

My sister had kids years before I did, and I was the typical ignorant drunk uncle when it came to her devotion to the kids’ naps and schedule. “What’s with the schedule? Why can’t the kids just power through this one time?” Because the schedule is GOD, man! The schedule is all-powerful. It is the weather; it is the earth beneath your feet. Reject it and your life will be untethered from reality, a nonstop maelstrom of tears and tantrums.

We had dinner with friends on Saturday night, and ended up putting the kids to bed at 8:30 instead of 7:00. And my son was WRECKED the next morning, an absolute disaster until we put him down for a nap almost two hours earlier than usual.

— Uh, the Chargers are up 14-0 over the Broncos? The AFC West is a spooky-ass house of mirrors.

— With 14:03 in the 3rd quarter, the Giants get their first third down conversion in the game. Manning now has 29 yards passing. The next time I complain about watching the Seahawks offense, please remind me that the Giants exist.

— Around 6:20 p.m., just as my family returns, the Seahawks offense finally gets its touchdown:

The touch on this @DangeRussWilson TD pass... #Seahawks http://pic.twitter.com/raQqkTDpVi

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

The touch on that pass is what stands out on first watch, but do yourself a favor and watch the ankle-breaking move that gets Baldwin a free release from the slot.

— I’m as anti-Steelers as a fan can get, but I respect the hell out of any coach who attempts rude shit to stomp on a division rival. TO WIT: With the Steelers up two scores, Mike Tomlin dials up a fake punt on 4th and 7 to ice the game.

FAKE PUNT ALERT! #HereWeGo http://pic.twitter.com/wFxTkTqxjo

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

What an absolutely shitty thing to do. I love it!

— Speaking of disrespect, the Seahawks even the turnover battle with a strip-sack of Manning, and the first play they run on offense is this:

.@prichiejr goes ALL the way up to make the grab. Wow. Touchdown, @Seahawks! #Seahawks http://pic.twitter.com/7jvzLhruFx

— NFL (@NFL) October 22, 2017

It’s slightly underthrown by Wilson, which gives Landon Collins JUST enough time to make a play on the ball, but the simultaneous possession gives the Seahawks a touchdown. If I learned anything from the Fail Mary, it’s that a tie goes to the runner.

— We put the kids down at 7:25, and bedtime goes as smoothly and drama-free as each of the four late games.

Aside from the Seahawks result, I can’t say that I liked today better than the usual pandemonium of being NFL Dad. Given the choice, I’ll take the chaos and love of fatherhood over the quiet stress of being totally focused on my team. Both would be nice, of course, but that would mean more Seattle games in primetime. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

[iwantthedean]

A New Fall

Graphic courtesy of @atc74.

Part Five: Empire. Sweet-tart, crisp, juicy. 

Summary: Y/N begins to show Jensen the ropes around the farm and town, and a new offer is put on the table.   Pairing: None … yet. (But I think we all know where this is going.) Word Count: 2145 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 :)

Masterlist

Bartholomew Kemp’s office was quickly becoming your least favorite place to visit. Since he had told you that you would have to sell your family’s farm, the bad news had continued to roll your way.

Today, you were visiting after the discussion with your father, letting him know what was going on, that an offer had been made, and that you were likely going to accept it. Your father had cautioned you about accepting the offer, and stated that he would talk to Bartholomew himself. He trusted the old business manager, but he determined that two business minds were better than one. If it meant the slightest possibility that you could keep the place, you were okay with that.

“I’m gathering the paperwork for your father,” Bartholomew informed you, “but in the meantime, you’ve got another, anonymous offer on the property.”

“Another offer?” you frowned. “Why is it anonymous?”

He shrugged. “It came from the bank, and they simply stated that their client wishes to remain anonymous -- they can do that, I suppose.”

You tried for the millionth time not to cry over all of this. “How does it compare to Jensen’s offer?”

“It’s fairly competitive. I’ll send this to your father, and I’ll send copies home for you to look at. How are things going in the meantime?”

“They’re going,” you shrugged. “I -- it’s more personal, I guess, but I made a peace offering to Jensen. He agreed to let me stay through the holidays, although now I guess that depends on which offer we take. In the meantime, I’m going to show him around the place more, how things run and all that. He’s coming over later to help me start prepping for the festival this weekend.”

Bartholomew kept his smile to himself. “Well, that’s a turn of events. Let me make a copy of this, and I’ll send you on your way so you can get ready for company.”

You waited patiently for the necessary documents, wishing with all your might that none of this was actually happening. You were past the stage of believing it had to be a bad dream, but that didn’t stop you from wanting, every now and then, to be past the sale and moving on with your life.

And to add another offer on to the plate? You knew that the land was good, you knew the home was beautiful … you never suspected or expected that there would be more than one offer on the place. As Bartholomew came back with the papers and sent you on your way, you determined that you were going to do some digging and find out who this anonymous buyer was.

* * * * *

Fall Festival preparations started with some simple yard work, Jensen discovered when he arrived at Y/N’s house not long after she had wrapped up her school day. The farmhands would take care of the orchard and the pumpkin patch, for the most part, but she informed Jensen that her family had always done up the house and made it suitable for visitors during the four-day festival.

“There’s half-days at the school Thursday and Friday, since so many families pull their kids out in the afternoon anyway,” Y/N explained while they raked leaves in the front yard. “Friday night is a big chili cook-off, Saturday night is the carnival, and everything wraps up by Sunday afternoon.”

He reached for a sturdy trash bag. Y/N held it open while he started loading in the raked leaves. “Sounds like a good weekend. I’m looking forward to being around for it. Do you get to enjoy much of it?”

Y/N shrugged. “For the most part. I’ll help Kitty at The Farmer’s Stand Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning, but I always go to the chili cook-off Friday evening. Saturday afternoon we get the most visitors here, so I’ll be around for that. Then the carnival Saturday evening, and puttering around here Sunday.”

Jensen smiled as he dumped more leaves into the bag. He wanted to do things the way she did, wanted to learn how things were done so he wasn’t changing anything if he bought the farm. Maybe part of him wanted to be with her as much as possible, too. He wasn’t sure how to ask to join her without essentially inviting himself, so he kept his mouth shut and helped her finish up with the leaves.

“Now, we bake,” she announced when the bags of leaves were all lined up by the barn. “I took care of the flower beds over the weekend, and I’ll mow when I get home tomorrow.”

Jensen followed her into the house, making sure to wipe his boots on the mat on the back patio. He closed the slider behind him and made a mental note to show up sometime in the morning and do the mowing for her.

He waited patiently while Y/N pulled a myriad of baking supplies down from the cupboards. She was going to make some of everything, she informed him, so that Kitty’s shop could be well-stocked for the weekend.

“Before I go, I’ll type up all these recipes, if you want.” Then, she stopped and frowned. “By the way, have you spoken with Bartholomew recently? Like, today?”

Jensen shook his head and leaned forward on the counter. “No, why?”

“He got another offer on the farm. This person is an anonymous buyer, made their offer through the bank. He said it’s fairly competitive with your offer.”

“I’ll call him in the morning. Which offer do you think you’ll take?”

She looked sadly at her desk and the stack of papers in the middle of it. “I honestly haven’t looked at the new offer yet. For lots of reasons.”

He didn’t have to know her well to know that the subject was upsetting her. Instead of discussing the matter further, he nudged her with his elbow.

“So, what do I have to do to get you to start with those cinnamon rolls for our baking tonight?”

The change in subject succeeded in making Y/N laugh. Jensen grinned too, and listened while she told him how to pick the best apples for baking versus the ones that were better for snacking or salads. They peeled and sliced apples together, then worked on doughs for both the cinnamon rolls and a couple of pies.

By the time their baking endeavors were in the oven, they were both starving. Y/N didn’t feel much like cooking, so Jensen offered to go into town and pick up some takeout. He returned not too much later with a large pizza. He set it on the counter, which Y/N had cleaned up while he was gone.

“How much of a slob would you think I am if I just set the open box on the counter and didn’t bother with plates?” Y/N chuckled.

Jensen smirked. “Wouldn’t bother me any.”

“If you’ll grab us some napkins from the table, I’ll get sodas out of the fridge.”

Within minutes, they were sitting on barstools next to each other, chowing down on the warm, cheesy, meaty pizza. Jensen took the opportunity to look around the house; it was so warm and inviting. The autumn decorations weren’t too much, but they were noticeable and tasteful. While he suspected that much of these traditions had been born of the three generations before her, Y/N had done an excellent job of keeping the house a home.

After they cleaned up the pizza mess and pulled the baked goods from the oven, Jensen decided it was time to go back out to the hotel. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, as much as he was beginning to love being on the farm.

“Thank you for all of your help,” Y/N offered when she walked him to the front porch.

“I don’t know how much I actually helped, but … well, thanks for teaching me some of the ropes. Same time tomorrow?”

Y/N nodded. “You were help, but the company was nice, too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jensen lingered for a moment, unsure of what he felt like he was waiting for. Y/N looked at him, waiting for him to say or do something. In the end, he gently squeezed her hand as he placed a kiss on her cheek, then bid her goodnight.

* * * * *

When you recapped the evening for Taylor, her eyes went wide and she looked at you like you were an idiot.

“Y/N! He’s into you!”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. The age difference alone has got to make him out of my league. Not to mention, I’m a schoolteacher from Middle-of-Nowhere, Massachusetts, and he’s an actor.”

“The age difference isn’t really that big, and,” she swallowed the bite of salad that had been stuffed in her cheek, “you are just as eligible as anyone else, Y/N/N. I think you forget that sometimes.”

You pursed your lips. “Maybe with the new offer, he’s trying to sweeten me up so he can buy the place.”

Taylor shook her head, adamant that this newfound epiphany of hers was accurate. “He held your hand in the orchard, he’s hanging out with you all the time, the goodbye last night -- this isn’t about the farm. It’s about you.”

As you took a bite of leftover pizza, you thought over your friend’s theory. You supposed you could see where she would see all of that, but you still weren’t buying it.

“We’ll see, when all is said and done,” Taylor shrugged. She was so confident she was right, but you didn’t even want to hope.

Hell, you didn’t even want to admit that you were into Jensen, too.

* * * * *

Right after school let out and all of the kids had been picked up or sent home on the bus, you drove over to The Farmer’s Stand. A crowd was already starting to gather; you took that as a good sign.

“Where do you want me to start, Ms. Kitty?”

She waved you over to the cash register. “I’d like to get out from behind this counter for a while, if you don’t mind. Mingle with people.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

She gave you a hug before going to walk the floor of  the little market. You returned it, then set down on the stool behind the counter, waiting for customers to bring up their goods for purchase. Ms. Kitty had thought ahead and had a price list set out for you; you’d run the register before, so you were pretty set in your job for the afternoon.

Stephen, Ms. Kitty’s son, came in a couple hours after you. He frowned when he saw you sitting behind the counter, but masked the expression quickly.

“I guess I forgot the festival was starting already,” he mumbled.

The man was a few years older than you, but had grown up in town just as you had -- but had still managed to forget the festival? You’d never understand living in a place like this and not taking some pride in the town’s traditions.

“All the way through Sunday,” you commented.

“You going to be here everyday?”

No, your brow knitted into a frown. “Today, tomorrow, and Saturday morning. Just like my family has always done. Is that a problem?”

Before Stephen could reply, someone else spoke up. “I hope it’s not -- and I hope it’s not a problem that I plan to be here with her. Gotta learn somehow.”

Your frown immediately changed to a smile when you saw that Jensen had arrived. He found another stool to set next to you. Stephen disappeared into the back office, not bothering to greet Jensen or converse any further.

“He’s pleasant,” Jensen commented.

“Isn’t he?” you chuckled. “I’ve never understood how a mother like Ms. Kitty could have a son like Stephen. He doesn’t seem to care much about the town at all.”

“Thank goodness for you two women, to balance out people like him then.”

You rewarded his comment with a smile -- one that grew when he smiled back, and the afternoon sun lit up his eyes, making them a brighter shade of green than they already were.

“You okay?”

You hadn’t realized you’d been staring until Jensen waved a hand in front of your face. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

A customer coming to the counter to make a purchase provided a timely rescue. You showed Jensen the price list and how to work the register while you rang up the young family.

The distraction was brief, however, and as soon as Jensen struck conversation up with you again, your heart was pitter-pattering in your chest. You wanted to blame it on Taylor and the conversation you’d had with her earlier in the day, but you knew that these feelings were all your own.

* * * * * * * * * *

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

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 @foxyjwls007 @woodworthti666 @writtingrose @flamencodiva @dean-winchesters-bacon @cap-just-said-language

[katef-m]

California, month six | that great strong land of love

Apartment twenty, early January 2017. C arrives in a rainstorm, late the first evening, and we brew tea immediately. The new place is a mess: floorboards awash with scattered q-tips and dustballs and broken clothes hangers, strange objects huddled in corners (a china monkey money box, an elephant-shaped watering can, a half eaten bag of cough drops, a dented can of chopped green beans), the rooms heavy with the cloying odour of a four-week full bin. All day I'd cleaned and unpacked. I wiped, dusted, sprayed, filled bag after bag with rubbish, and swept the floors with a plastic orange brush I bought at the Japanese dollar store. When I'd arrived that morning, shoulders burning after carrying my bags up to the second floor, it took all my willpower not to sink into the bottom bunk's bare rubber mattress and sob. Everything was so dirty, and I was adrift in unfamiliarity again. But instead I put on some music, rolled up my sleeves, and got to it. By the time C's at the door, the rooms are a little more habitable, and when I hear her moving about in the living room, putting the kettle on, it already feels like home. Peace and sun, those first few days. Golden hour is ridiculous from the window of our new room. Last semester I could see the Sather Tower and used its hourly peals to structure my day; now I can watch the hills behind campus, the way they reflect the sun at dawn and dusk, the way the small houses at the top wink in the dark. Day trips to the city. Waiting for the bus with 7-Eleven coffee and donuts. Loafing at the top of Bancroft with thermos flasks as the sun dips. It's warm enough to sit outside, though you'll need a scarf. It doesn't feel like any January I know. Getting tangled in freeways on the first few half-marathon training runs. Saturday afternoon at the farmers' market. Everybody outside in warm blue. Herb bundles in bicycle baskets, a girl in dungarees with fruit under her arm, that sort of thing. Fresh bread and sunshine. So far, January in California feels like April in England, and I am very much ok with that.

When Trump's sworn in nobody wants to look. I'm at work, anyway, and I have to make smoothies for a bunch of Trump supporters. The peanut butter scoop shakes in my hand. Later we race down Telegraph towards Oakland to catch the tail end of the inauguration day protest. Police in riot gear wait along Oakland's peripheries as the protestors head towards the city centre, yet all is peaceful: downtown we're met with free pumpkin pie, not tear gas or stun guns. The air isn't charged the way it was on election night, not raw with pain, yet the voices are louder, more defiant. The following morning we make signs from cardboard boxes raided from the recycling bins. NASTY WOMEN UNITE. VIVA LA VULVA. GRAB 'EM BY THE PATRIARCHY. The San Francisco bus is full of students: it almost feels like a school trip: there's not much traffic on the bridge: a parade of children forced on a pro-life march drift past the bus windows and we all get angry: and then we're in a one-hundred-thousand strong crowd at Civic Center, a damp fierce knot of umbrellas and battered signs and fists. It's International Women's Day. In the dusky rain we march and sing, and are filled with hope. 'I refuse to call him president,' says the elderly lady sitting next to me at Caffe Strada a few days later. Solace, as ever, is sought in the words of my favourite poets. Thousands of miles away in Australia, Bruce Springsteen speaks out against Trump's Muslim Ban. 'America is a nation of immigrants,' he says, 'and we find this anti-democratic and fundamentally un-American'. And then there's Langston Hughes:

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed -- Let it be that great strong land of love

Alternative coping mechanisms are also available: homemade cocktails (White Russians and hibiscus gin), playing every song that ever existed, dancing on chairs into the wee hours. Federer winning the Australian Open, his eighteenth slam at the age of thirty-five. Saturday evening at the marina with friends, sitting on the rocks by the water to witness a sunset too beautiful to hold on to. Faces and hair lucent with golden light.

Most of all though, a visit from my mum. Spring semester is relentless. The workload is final-level-Tetris heavy. 'I don't know what I'm writing,' I complain to C one night. 'I'm two letters into a word and I don't know what it's going to be yet.' Classes almost doubled, I take the early morning shifts at work. The alarm's set for that pre-7am no man's land, but as a night owl, sleep is unavoidably sacrificed. I learn to survive on five or six hours, but this hallmark of adulthood won't stay with me long: as soon as school ends and life slows down in June, my nine hour nightly dosage resumes. For now, though, daily life has changed hugely. Yet the change itself occurred unnoticed, giant and silent in the corner of some room I might've walked through once. I no longer have time to burrow deep into the frivolous recesses of my brain; every scene passes by too fast, like trying to take a picture from the window of a speeding train. I think I like it this way, though. It's true: the busier you are, the more you do, and the more you do, the more you want to do. Mum arrives the night of the Milo Y riots. As I open belated Christmas presents in her Airbnb apartment we hear the rumble of helicopters over Telegraph. My social media feeds erupt with footage of fires and bangs. 'Berkeley's not always like this,' I feel compelled to point out more than once. The streets are scattered with debris and people smoke against makeshift wire fences, eyes bright, bodies still charged. Walking to work the next morning, the physical effects of the riots are clear in the cold eye of dawn. Anti-Trump graffiti embellishes the walls of the bank, a building made 'riot-proof' in the sixties. On campus, trees are singed black at the tips, the Amazon locker room windows smashed in, and the hulking jumble of burned tech equipment sits sooty in the middle of Sproul Plaza like some kind of contemporary art sculpture. Mum's staying in the 'Purple House', a wood-walled ground-floor apartment in Elmwood. I love staying there with her, love the non-student perspective on Berkeley life it provides. We shop in Whole Foods and cook together, finish morning runs with coffee. I show her the campus, the streets, the city across the bay. I introduce her to my friends and my favourite bus routes. She keeps me company on coffee shop study dates and buys me the enormous slice of apple pie I've been eyeing all year. It is a special twelve days.

After days of rain, the sun returns and Mum finally sees the California I've been raving about, the clear blue skies, the dazzle at the ends of streets and hilltops. We spend her final weekend in San Francisco. Resistance posters have appeared in windows both sides of the bay, and in the Mission District, Four Barrel's coffee cups come stamped with the words 'Resist Fear, Assist Love' in rainbow ink. Catch the bus to Haight-Ashbury. Get coffee at Stanza, or Flywheel, which sits at edge of the neighbourhood where Golden Gate Park looms dark. The Goodwill store is messy, and 80% junk, but if you hunt hard you'll find things at a tenth of the price of other Haight thrift stores. There's a real good bookstore somewhere along the street: you'll find it. Buena Vista is all steps, but catch another bus a little south, as the roads start to climb. It'll only take you halfway up; when you alight, follow Twin Peaks Boulevard as it snakes uphill, and eventually you'll reach the carpark and viewpoint at the top. Most people drive up to Twin Peaks but it's better to watch the view unfold gradually, angles and gradients shifting, until the rusted tips of the Golden Gate Bridge poke out above buildings and cloud to your left, and the entire city arranges itself around you, better than any virtual map could. You'll finally understand the confusing geography of San Francisco, how the multiple grid systems shuffle against each other, the dance of streets and hills. You'll note the physical relief of the landscape, from the smooth natural contours of the earth to the tall stubbed cluster of the financial district. The white buildings shine pristine in afternoon light, so that the entire city looks celestial. And all of it held by the water beyond. From the peaks of the city, move to its edges: ride the Muni all the way through Sunset out to Ocean Beach, and watch the sun sink softly into the water. Everybody will stand motionless on the sand to watch, as if it's a drive-in movie. Colours will drift about and alter the look of the water, sand, and air. Deep sky blue, viridian, turquoise, champagne pink, peach, apricot, tiffany, pale indigo. To heighten the liminal magic, you have the beach's routine haze and majestic scale: the height of the waves, the sand's expanse, how the scene looks both stretched out and zoomed in, like so much of the American landscape.

* * * Songs: month six Fluorescent Adolescent  /  Arctic Monkeys Get Lucky  /  Daft Punk Wild World  /  Cat Stevens Christmas in February  /  Lou Reed Pacific Theme  /  Broken Social Scene Stolen Dance  /  Milky Chance Mother & Child Reunion  /  Paul Simon * * *

California so far:

California, month one | in and out of the game

California, month two | the dust settles

California, month three | your lows will have their complement of highs California, month four | throw comfort out