The nice, expensive trail mix, with twelve kinds of nuts and the big sunflower seeds and dried fruits, the kind Tony only rarely left sitting on the common floors for everyone to get at, was gone.
Clint had been looking forward to that stuff all morning.
All the way through a hellish morning “jog” with Steve, all through Nat handing him his ass on the training mats, all through firing the same batch of misweighted arrows over and over so Tony could take scans and fix the design, he’d been thinking, when this is done I get to go upstairs and hang out on the couch and watch Dog Cops and eat the good trail mix, guilt-free.
And it was gone.
Clint was gonna shoot somebody.
Just as soon as he figured out who’d taken the trail mix.
yesterday i saw a sad duck in the park who kept getting picked on by the other ducks so today i brought some trail mix and we had a nice lunch together. also i think he might be the duck who pooped on sam last week. if so, he is officially my new best friend.
Consider donating old clothes when you don’t want them anymore.
Also, consider spending more on quality pieces of clothing that last and having less clothing vs. buying lots of cheaper clothing that wears out.
If you’re not sure what to buy or how to wear only a few pieces of clothing (and by few I mean a few dozen items including shirts, pants, shirts, etc.) go to Pinterest and look up “capsule wardrobe”. There are endless ideas there about how to own only a few things and style them endlessly.
Much of the world watched as the events in Standing Rock, ND unfolded. Many posted in protest of the pipeline drilled through sacred treaty protected land belonging to the Natives, some even gave their physical presence to the cause, subjecting themselves to the frigid cold, mistreatment from police officers; tear gas, rubber bullets, and imprisonment. One beautiful thing about Standing Rock was the community there, if dapl had a bright side, it’s that it brought more like-minded people together to connect over a common cause. I met a guy on my flight to ND who had actually been adopted into a Lakota family, Standing Rock gave him more than just friends, he felt at home on the reservation like he never had before. When I first arrived, it was the beginning of the end of this community. There seemed to be this confusion combined with sadness, many seemed to have found a home at Standing Rock like my friend Jahnny, but what now? Regardless of it being the end of the line for many here, I was still invited in without hesitation, given food and drink, asked my purpose for coming to Standing Rock. Everyone that showed up here, had a reason for being here, and everyone took care of everyone. At one point during the evacuation, I was running from police over Lake Oahe, I fell through ice and got completely drenched head to toe in ice cold water. In a state of shock, not fully realizing the urgency of my situation, someone grabbed me and said, “we need to get you to the med tent, NOW!” A few people stripped off my clothes, gave me a space blanket and threw me on a quad that sped me to a warm tent where I was given tea and warm clothes. I felt safe and a part of this family just for showing up and standing up for what I believed was right.
Request: Can you
write one where the reader breaks down to Bobby because she is pregnant with
Dean’s baby. Thank you :)
Word Count: 1,069
The rain has been coming down in buckets all night, and the
wind whips at the sides of the house in such a way that every now and again,
the foundations shake so severely that Bobby nearly ends up waiting out the
storm in the panic room.
When he sees the flash of light outside the window followed
by a rumble, he isn’t paying enough attention to think of it as anything but
another facet of the storm. What he does pay
attention to, however, is the frantic, loud knocking that reverberates well
beyond the door.
The knocking doesn’t stop until he answers, pulling the door
open to be bet with a harsh gust of wind.
“Y/N?” You’re soaked and dishevelled, and he isn’t sure
which has smeared your makeup more – the rain, or the tears you’re trying and
failing to hold back.
“Can- can I come in?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s the
only thing your fuzzy, addled brain can come up with. Bobby doesn’t speak, but
he nods, ushering you into the warmth of the house where you grew up and
forcing the door closed against the wind.
“What the hell are you doing out in this?” Driving in this
weather would be dangerous enough without
you being in a complete state. You don’t reply, though, shivering in the
hallway and wiping at your face in frustration. It scares him – you’re the
closest thing he has to family: he’d raised you since you were six months old
and your parents had been killed, leaving no-one to keep an eye on their
demon-blood infected child. He’d taken you in, and found that he’d quickly
become all too fond of you.
“Y/N, seriously. Where are Sam and Dean?” It must be
something to do with them, because it elicits a sob from you, “I don’t want to
play twenty questions with you.” He steps forward, resting his hands on your
shoulders and pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead, “Give yourself
some time, alright? Go get a shower, get changed. Everything’s fine. Nothing is
going to hurt you while you’re here. I’ll make you a hot chocolate while you’re
gone, just how you like it. How does that sound?”
To his eternal relief, that manages to get a nod and a weak
smile from you, and he pulls you in for a gentle hug before letting you go. He
doesn’t look away from you until you’re safely up the stairs, and then sighs to
himself – he’s never seen you like this. But you need him, and he’ll be damned
if you’re not going to have him to go to.
It’s nearly half an hour before he hears you coming down the
stairs, but there’s nothing wrong with that – especially when he sees how much
better you’re looking. Sure, your eyes are still red-rimmed and you’re still
shaking with the effort it takes not to cry, but at least your clothes are warm
and dry and your lips are no longer bluish with the cold.
You shuffle into the room and take a seat, swallowing hard
before looking up at Bobby. He sets the hot chocolate – piled high with cream,
chocolate shavings, and marshmallows – in front of you, and then takes the seat
next to yours. The storm outside still batters the windows, but the kitchen is
warm, and with the pair of you bathed in warm light, it’s almost cosy.
“Talk to me.” Bobby prompts softly, reaching over and
resting his hand over the top of yours. He sees the way you flinch at the
gesture, and for a moment he thinks the worst, “Is it Dean? Has he hurt you?”
He hadn’t been overly happy when you’d begun dating the eldest Winchester two
and a half years ago, but you’d been happy, and Dean had given him a heartfelt
promise that his intentions were pure – but Bobby had promised in return that
the moment Dean so much as breathed the wrong way at you, he’d find himself
without the means to do so again.
“Y/N, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me if you want to
“I can’t fix it.” You speak properly for the first time
since you stepped into the house, “It’s broken. Very broken.”
“Still with the ambiguous, sweetheart.”
It takes you a few moments to muster up the courage to come
out with it, but eventually, you do.
Silence, apart from the sounds of the storm outside, fills
the room. For a long moment, he can’t find it in himself to speak – and then…
“Do not drink
that.” He wraps his spare hand around the mug and slides it away from you,
reminded suddenly of the copious amount of whiskey he just dropped into that, “Is
it… it’s Dean’s?”
You scoff, “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Of course it is.” Sorrow
and bitterness taint your tone in equal measure, and Bobby winces.
“Have you told him?” He tries, and you nod again.
“Yeah. That’s what the second problem is.” You sigh, pulling
your hand away from his in order to run your hands over your face, skilfully
masking a sob – but not enough. Bobby knows you inside and out, and picks up on
“He reacted badly?”
“If saying I’d ruined everything and needed to get the hell
out of his sight is reacting badly, then I’d say so, yeah.” You spit, but your
voice breaks and before you know it, your head is on his shoulder and you’re
sobbing openly into him, everything coming out. He holds onto you tightly, a
silent promise that he’ll never let you go; that you always have him.
It’s nearly three hours later, by the time he’s managed to
calm you down and get you asleep. You’re still asleep on the sofa when his
phone rings. He answers, begrudgingly, when he realises who it is.
“Bobby? Have you heard from Y/N? She’s gone and we’ve been trying
to track her all night, but we haven’t found anything.” He rattles off, his
voice frantic and shaking.
“Why? What happened?” Bobby asks, watching you sleeping form.
“We got in a fight. I said something stupid. God, Bobby, I’ll
never forgive myself if she doesn’t…” He cuts himself off, and swallows hard, “Have
you heard from her?”
He pauses, “Nope. Nothing. I’ll let you know if I do.”