smashing windshield


A few weeks after Eric and I stopped talking to each other, Trevor and I happened to be driving home from school in separate cars. Trevor was driving his car ahead of me when we pulled up to the stop sign near my house. The spot was right next to the bus stop. Eric, who was riding the bus again, was throwing snowballs with other kids from school. When Eric saw Trevor, he picked up a chunk of ice from where it forms over the gutter. He threw it as hard as he could at Trevor’s car, denting the trunk. Then, without missing a beat, he picked up another chunk of ice and threw it at my car. The ice smashed into my windshield; I heard it crack. It wasn’t a large chip, but enough to make one of those little spider webs around it. I was livid. I slammed on the brakes and leaned out of the car, yelling, “Fuck you! Fuck you, Eric! You’re gonna pay to fix this!” Eric laughed at me. “Kiss my ass, Brooks! I ain’t paying for shit!” I floored the gas down the remaining few blocks to my parents’ house, went in and told my mom exactly what had happened. Then—seeing red—I went straight to Eric’s place to talk to his parents. I hammered on their front door, still furious. All I could think of was getting back at Eric. Mrs. Harris answered, and I glared at her. “I’ve got something to tell you about your son,” I said. She looked back at me, a little confused. “Okay…” She asked me to come in. We sat down in her living room, and I told her everything Eric had been doing in the past few months. “Your son’s been sneaking out at night,” I said. “He’s going around vandalizing things. He’s threatened people. And just now he broke my windshield.” She didn’t seem to believe me. She kept asking me to calm down. That only made me angrier. “He’s got liquor in his room,” I said. “Search it. He’s got spray paint cans in his room. Search it. Eric’s fucked up, and you need to know about it. I’m getting out of here before he gets back, because I’m not gonna deal with him right now.” Mrs. Harris wanted me to stay, to sit down and talk with Eric about this, as if we were in the school counselor’s office or something. I shook my head. “I’m gone,” I said as I got back in the car to go home.

Brown, B & Merritt, R. (2002). No Easy Answers: The Truth Behind Death at Columbine.

You can read the Spanish version here.

Puedes leer la versión en español aquí.

vexedcer  asked:

Ok I was just thinking abt, how does Elaine react to Jace? Does she know who he is pre-romantic relationship? Is he "the one with the tattoos"? Has Simon already come out to her when he brings Jace up? Does she insist on having a family meal when he formally meets them as Simon's boyfriend? I'm just word vomiting on you and smiling like a fool on the bus but gah I needed to get it out to someone ik who'll appreciate it


  • like, she definitely begins to notice that simon is into guys when he’s in high school and they go to temple one day and simon flushes when dear old harriet’s son compliments simon
  • so she’s like hmmm and she keeps an eye on him and she almost forgets about it because he’s so in love with clary, and she’s a little torn because clary’s a lovely girl but she doesn’t want her son to get hurt and clary, she knows, has a habit of unwittingly pulling everything around her into her orbit
  • and then, you know, strange things start happening to her son and she spends a long period of time thinking, hysterically, that he’s dead, or off getting addicted to drugs, or just - so many awful things, and she wonders often if it’s her fault, if her picking up that bottle when ethan died set off a chain of karma so bad it’s destroyed her children - but no, she has to remember that rebecca and simon are their own people and that they’re family, no matter what, and oh god she hopes simon is okay she hopes her baby is safe - 
  • simon starts reappearing, slowly but surely. he looks intensely uncomfortable, and every time he comes over for dinner he has a friend with him, that band manager raphael, or his ex-girlfriend maia, or that lovely girl isabelle, or clary, or a friendly boy named bat that appreciates her tamales more than simon seems to at this point - simon’s not eating again, which is worrying, but he looks healthy, if a little pale, and he still hugs her and holds her tight and say i love you, mom, so she perseveres in pretending nothing’s wrong until he wants to tell her - 
  • and she begins to piece it together after a while, because she hears that jocelyn is dead and she sees tattoos flicker across clary’s body sometimes, and the scars that peek out across maia’s neck are far from natural. and there’s a faint echo of a memory in the back of her head of simon with sharp, sharp fangs. she understands something’s happening, remembers ethan once tell her that he’d known someone, long ago, who under the full moon - but it doesn’t matter now. she begins to understand that she’s better off not knowing, so she turns her head when simon slips a flask of a thick red substance out from under his coat, and starts to harp on the benefits of animal blood and blood banks when simon’s around. 
  • in the middle of all this, she peers out the window by the front door one night to see her son arguing with…thin air?
  • she watches for a few more seconds, bemused, until the air shimmers and seemingly out of nowhere a handsome young man with blonde hair and a ridiculous amount of tattoos decorating his arms flickers into existence, looking extremely put out, but still acquiescing when simon grabs his wrist and makes his way to the front door. 
  • she opens it, and simon determinedly introduces her to jace, who shakes her hand and very politely calls her ms. lewis. he hovers a little behind simon, who rolls his eyes and pushes him into a chair, and elaine hides her smile behind a stack of plates as simon hisses “act natural, herondale” and jace whispers back, furiously, “easy for you to say, lewis”
  • she isn’t completely sure of their dynamic, but it’s clear that the two of them are intesely familiar with one another, moving easily in each other’s space. simon serves jace almost unthinkingly, and jace absently takes simon’s garlic bread and starts eating it. rebecca, bless her soul, wiggles her eyebrows at elaine - are the two of them, maybe, you know? - and elaine pointedly looks at rebecca’s plate - mind your own business, dear - and rebecca grins, turning back to her own dinner. 
  • during dessert, elaine absently asks “and what do your parents do, jace?”and jace replies that he’s isabelle’s sister. “you two look very different,” elaine says, “you must take after the other parent.” 
  • jace stiffens unexpectedly, and elaine opens her mouth to immediately backtrack, because she can recognize that discomfort anywhere, but she’s momentarily shocked into silence when she sees simon’s arm move slightly under the table, his biceps briefly flexing. 
  • elaine was young and in love once too, and she remembers a dinner conversation like this a long time ago, with ethan’s parents sitting across from her and asking her and what happened to your little brother, dear? and the immediate choking sensation she’d felt as visions of smashed windshields and her brother’s limp body flooded her mind. in the midst of all that, as she’d sat, frozen and petrified, ethan’s hand had found her thigh under the table and squeezed lightly, comfortingly. nothing big, no declaration, no sudden hero; just a little reminder, i’m here and you’re not alone, you are hurting and i know you are not alone. she remembers what it had looked like out of the corner of her eye, what it looks like now as simon angles his body towards jace and gazes at him with a warmth and support that’s so very ethan that elaine finds herself momentarily blinking back tears, stuck in the past and the present. 
  • “it’s okay,” jace says, his voice marginally smaller but a falsely bright smile plastered to his face, “i’m adopted.” 
  • “well, the lightwoods have a set of very attractive children, then.” elaine says without missing a beat, and jace laughs and rebecca laughs and simon flushes red and groans “mom” and it’s all fine, but elaine is still looking and she sees the way jace nudges simon as simon buries his face in his hands in embarassment, sees the look of fondness and amusement that jace gives her son, and she thinks he did it, ethan, he found himself his forever
  • because she knows simon, she knows people, she knows love like no one else knows it because ethan was the kindest person to walk this earth and he taught her how to find it in everything and everyone before the earth took him back, so she waves simon and jace goodbye and knows in her heart that one day jace is going to be in her living room, asking to marry simon. 
  • and sure enough, when weeks later simon swallows hard on her front porch and says, slowly, quietly, “mom, jace and i - he’s my boyfriend, now, i think - “ and jace presses a quick kiss to simon’s cheek, the tips of his own ears burning as he murmurs, “we’re dating, lewis, you don’t have to say i think, you idiot - “, she blinks back tears as she remembers the way ethan’s lips felt skimming along her cheeks, and she sweeps them both into a hug. 
  • “i’m happy for you,” she says, ruffling simon’s hair, and he ducks his head and looks pleased, and jace says - polite as ever, what a charming young man - thank you, and she looks at the stars briefly. 
  • our son likes boys, too she thinks to ethan, confident that wherever he is he’s got an eye on her, and if you were here, you’d be so happy that he was happy. 
  • but you’re not, she thinks bitterly, smiling sadly, so i’m going to be happy enough for the both of us
  • she turns and makes her way inside, and she swears she can feel the ghost of a kiss pressed to her cheek. 
On John Lewis, Civil Rights Hero

“I fought too long & too hard against discrimination based on race & color, not to fight against discrimination based on sexual orientation,” tweeted civil rights icon John Lewis on July 23, 2015.

Fifty-five years ago, on May 14, 1961, Lewis rode with the Freedom Riders in a bus pelted by rocks and bricks, as axes smashed through windshields, a firebomb lobbed through the shattered glass. State troopers fired warning shots – but whom they warned was not the violent mob.

The bus’s passengers were black and white Americans riding together, testing the recent Supreme Court ruling that said it would be illegal to segregate public transportation passengers based on their race. 

John Lewis was the first Freedom Rider to be assaulted. And yet, a battered face and broken ribs did not prevent him from continuing his ride. “We were determined not to let any act of violence keep us from our goal,” Lewis has said of the experience. “We knew our lives could be threatened, but we had made up our minds not to turn back.”

As the fight for civil rights continued over the ensuing years, Lewis kept to his conviction that there was no turning back. Three years following the Freedom Riders’ journeys aboard greyhounds, Lewis marched in Selma, Mississippi, in a demonstration of their urgent insistence on African Americans’ right to vote amidst widespread voter suppression. On a day that became known as Bloody Sunday, the peaceful protesters were beaten by state troopers who met them at the end of Edmond Pettus Bridge.

[from John Lewis’ testimony]

After a lifetime of fighting for civil rights, John Lewis has never stooped to rest. As a champion of LGBTQ rights, Lewis gave an impassioned speech in a 1996 debate on the Defense of Marriage Act, where he lashed out against any who would deny LGBTQ citizens’ their right to marriage.

“I will not turn my back on another American,” he said. “I will not oppress my fellow human being. I fought too hard and too long against discrimination based on race and color to stand up against discrimination based on sexual orientation.”

[watch the full speech here]

Lewis has been elected to Congress fourteen times, a few times running unopposed, beloved for his bravery and dedication to fighting for the rights of his constituents and fellow Americans at large. He has recently received media attention for the criticism laid down on him by President Donald Trump, who said of the civil rights hero, “All talk, talk, talk — no action or results. Sad!”

With the sun high on the first day of February, a new month awaits dedicated to remembering the contributions of Black Americans throughout our history. They are the trailblazers who have fought tirelessly for justice and equality, and who today continue to fight for their community, in addition to others marginalized in similar manners, allies united in their advocation.

One Wrong Move

Dean Winchester x Reader

1550 Words

Story Summary: After a rough night, Dean is woken up to find the reader has not returned home yet. Worried, he goes out looking for her.

This is for the SPN HIATUS WRITING CHALLENGE 2017 - WEEK 1. The prompt is “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

Warnings: Angst!! 

Dean’s POV

“Damn it Dean, wake up!” Dean heard Sam yelling at him as he lay sprawled across his bed. Groaning, he picked up his pillow, attempting to cover his head with it, hoping it would make his annoying brother leave him alone for at least a couple more hours.

“Not now. You need to get up!” Sam continued. Cursing, Dean rubbed his eyes, glancing at the bright red numbers on his alarm clock.

Keep reading

Destiel Trope Collection
Day 30 | Witch/Familiar AU

A Different Kind of Magic | @thebloggerbloggerfun
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 4,775
Tags: Witch!Castiel, Modern Urban Fantasy, Healer Castiel, Magic, Magic Spells, Cursed!Dean
Summary: Castiel is a witch that prides himself on his healing spells and Dean is that one customer that keeps coming into his shop with a different illness that needs curing.-Castiel looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Well, Dean, you’ve been cursed.”
Dean’s eyes widened at the buzzword. “Cursed? What do you mean?”
Castiel looked at him sympathetically as he pulled out a small, square bottle. “You either made a witch very angry or made someone that knows a witch very angry.”

Unbound | @through-shadows-falling
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 85,469
Tags:  Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Familiar Dean, Witch Castiel, Fluff, Angst, Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, Minor Violence, Animal Transformation
Summary: In a world where Witches and Familiars depend on each other to survive, Dean Winchester remains Unbound, and his magic—and life—is dwindling. Dean has accepted his fate, even if his family hasn’t. After all, what can he do about it?
But then a man stumbles into his life who just might be Dean’s Witch, but for some mysterious reason, refuses to Bond. On top of that, there’s trouble brewing on the horizon, and it seems that Dean’s caught right in the thick of it.
Can Dean convince the stranger that they need each other, before it’s too late for the both of them—and their world?

You Found Me | @through-shadows-falling
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 15,762
Tags: Magical Realism AU, Witch Dean, Familiar Castiel, Animal Transformation, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Profound Bonds
SummaryDean is a Witch without a Familiar because, unlike everyone else, he’s never experienced the Call that brings Witches and Familiars together. But that’s fine, really. He doesn’t mind not being able to use his magic, and he definitely isn’t jealous of other Bonded pairs. Nope, not him. Which makes it all the more incredible when an Unbonded Familiar—a crow named Cas—smashes down on his windshield with a broken wing. Dean’s mother is able to heal Cas’s wing, but they’ve got a bigger problem: Cas’s Grace has been stolen, which prevented him from ever initiating a Call. He believes Dean is his Witch, so they embark on a journey to get his Grace back with the hopes that they can officially Bond as a true Witch/Familiar pair.

Where the Cracks Form | @jupiterjames
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 26,918
Tags:  Witch Castiel, Creature Dean, Familiar Dean, Urban Magic, Mental bonds, soul bonds, Falling In Love, low angst, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex
Summary: Centuries ago, Earth was ruled by magic. Witches and their otherworldly familiars wandered freely, channeling the magic and sending it out, and through, nature. But as everything on Earth, there is an ebb and flow. Over time, magic, and magic users have disappeared to become myths. However, the cycle is returning. Witches are coming back in larger numbers in these modern times to control the energy before it spirals out of control and creates havoc. Castiel Novak, CPA, is a witch. Then again, he doesn’t believe in witches, magic, or the supernatural. Enter Dean Winchester, familiar, who is thrown from his plane of existence to Earth, charged with being Castiel’s familiar. His job, to establish a bond with his human, to help Castiel channel his magic. But first he must convince the disbelieving human to accept his fate before they both die from its disuse.

Trump Survival Tip No. 13: How to Effectively Fight the Police

ACAB. A common slogan spray-painted on bridges and shouted at actions. It means “All Cops Are Bastards”, and it goes beyond the not-so-recent spate of police brutality against black folks. All cops are bastards because all cops, every single one, enforces oppression for a living. They volunteered to be the footsoldiers of capitalism and hierarchy in our society. Why can’t we simply walk into our shop one day and tell our boss to fuck off, and seize the means of production in one fell swoop? Because the boss will call the cops, and the cops will come and enforce the boss’s domination over us. That’s all property really is; a property deed is just a receipt that can be redeemed for violence.

So it’s hardly surprising that in Charlottesville the pigs continued their pattern of defending white supremacists. The fascists showed up armed and looking for a brawl, and the cops’ backs were fully turned to them; there was no question about who they were protecting.

Now, the Charlottesville rally today outnumbered the fascists by a solid ten to one. Had they been alone, the enemy would’ve been lucky to have been simply run out of town. But when confronting the fascists, we must always remember to include the cops in their ranks. And while we have numbers, the cops have resources.

Wars are won by logistics. This is the most basic fact of military science; modern warfare fundamentally comes down to logistics. If you want to be an effective fighting force you must maintain the supply chains necessary to continue fighting–you need to always have enough beans, bullets, and band-aids to carry on. This, combined with the above, led me to an epiphany: if we want to effectively fight fascism, we must attack police logistics. We must drain them at every opportunity. We must frustrate, as best we can, every attempt by the police to maintain their ability to do violence. Every dollar spent replacing smashed cruiser windshields is a dollar that can’t be spent on tear gas or rubber bullets or pig salaries.

And the best part is that, for the guerrilla, this is by far the easiest way to engage the enemy. Supply chains are, by their nature, very hard to secure, meaning that an attacker almost always has the advantage. It can be little things–dropping homemade caltrops in front of a parked cruiser, smashing up police cars as they sit in their lot at night, a midnight raid to spray-paint over CCTV cameras, escalating up to traffic stop de-arrests and Molotovs in the precinct windows. In these situations we have the advantage. During the protest, the cops are armed, armored, and organized; during the workday, they’re unprepared and spread thin.

In the words of insurrectionary anarchist Alfred M. Bonnano, “It’s easy. You can do it by yourself, or with a bunch of trusted comrades. You don’t need to have great means or technical competence. Capital is vulnerable, if you are only determined to act.”

a couple years ago i dreamt i was at the movies and there was a trailer for a new jack black animated comedy where he plays an anthropomorphic surfing orca whale who’s also a cop and has to work with a shark & as i was being all like “wow this is so cliché” he surfed onto the hood of a car yelling “waaaaaay coooooool!!!” and then i was in the car watching him about to smash into the windshield and i screamed and woke up. i had to check to see if it was a real movie

Lost and found

Request: Can I request an Archie Andrews one where he was busy with football or music so his gf was driving around and she gets into a car accident. And she’s not seriously injured just a bit shook up. When Archie finds out he rushes to the hospital all upset over losing her, and he cuddles her and makes her feel safe and mumbles sweet nothings in her ear

A/N: Just a quick, sweet one.  It was fun to write this one idk.  Send requests to my inbox if you have any ideas!

See more of my stuff here

Word count: 563 words

Warnings: car accident

Originally posted by diltons

You had been at a gig alongside Archie and Jughead, listening to the Pussycats play a song Archie helped work on.  

“This is so good, babe,” you whispered, flashing him a golden smile.  You pulled your phone from your pocket, a frown making its way onto your face.

“What is it?” Archie asked quiety.  

“Nothing it’s just my stupid curfew.  I’ve gotta go.”  You stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder and kissed Archie on the cheek.  You leaned down to whisper into his ear.  “You’re so talented.  I love you so much.” He smiled, pecking you on the lips.

“I love you more.”  He teasingly waggled his eyebrows, “Text me when you get home so I know you got there safe, alright?” You nodded, saying your goodbye to Jughead, before then leaving discreetly out of the back.  

You were driving back to your house when a dog ran into the road, scaring you to the point where you totally swerved out of the way and off the road into a tree.  The impact left you unconscious, but luckily you weren’t too far from Pop’s.  So when your car was discovered in the state it was in on the side of the road, someone obviously stopped to help.

Within an hour you were in the hospital, woken from your stupor in a concussion-induced haze.  Within twenty minutes from that point, your parents were there, and you were asking about Archie.

“Have you tried calling him?” You mumbled, eyes still squinting at the bright lights.

“We called him the second we found out.  He didn’t answer, so we left a message,” your mom assured you.  “Knowing how much that boy loves you, he’ll be here in no time.”

And she was right.  Archie never did find out from the voicemail, but instead, from Jughead who ushered him to the side, informing him that he heard that your car was found on the side of the road with the windshield smashed and Archie was already on his way to find you.  

And then, he was in the doorway of your hospital room, face contorted with worry.  “Oh thank god,” he sighed, running to your side.

You smiled lightly, “Arch.”

“Jughead told me they had found your car I-” He looked down, looking over your body.  “Are you okay? I was so scared I was gonna… lose you.” His hand on your chin, you leaned into it smiling as his thumb ran soft circles over your cheek.

“I’m okay.  Just a concussion.”  He dropped his head so his forehead rested against your crown.  

“I was so worried,” he murmured softly into your hair.  “You must have been so scared.”

“Archie, don’t freak me out, now,” you mumbled.  His eyes widened a bit before he shook his head, clearing whatever thoughts had entered it.

“No, no it’s okay,” he slowly crouched down meeting your eyes with his.  “I’m here.  You’re okay.”

“You convincing me or yourself?” you teased quietly.  Archie looked around the small room, before clambering up beside you, pulling your head to your chest.  You smiled as he kissed you on the forehead.  “Thank you, Arch.”

“I could’ve lost you,” he murmured.  “I was so…”

“Worried.  I know you were.” You trailed off softly.  “But we’re okay.”  

He adjusted himself so his face was by yours, resting his cheek against your soft skin.  “You’re okay.”

Fallen Idols - Part 1

Word Count: 2713

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: SURPRISE It’s been forever, I know. I’m sorry. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

Thanks to @percywinchester27 for beta’ing this for me when it took me 50 years to write

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Lying sprawled across the back seat of the Impala with Dean at the wheel and Sam in the passenger seat again felt right, like you were where you were supposed to be. It had been three weeks of nonstop searching for the Colt with no success, but you didn’t care, you were just happy your family was back together again. So happy, in fact, you were humming Zeppelin while you stared out at the stars.

“Whole Lotta Love?” Dean chuckled, turning to glance back at you, before turning back to the empty road. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m just happy. Don’t kill my buzz, Dean Bean.” You shrugged him off, much to Sam’s amusement. “Do we have more chips?”

“No. We gotta make a stop when we reach civilization.” Dean said. “Seriously, though, what’s wrong with you? You’re freakin’ me out. Are you possessed?”

“Nope.” You popped the p and sat up, leaning over the seat and kissing his cheek. “Told you. Just happy. You said you had a case, so what’s the case?”

Keep reading


Steve Rogers X Reader Soulmate AU

A/N: I know I said I was going to bed, but ERMERGERD!! I finally hit 200 followers!! I have been obsessing over Soulmate AUs, lately, so I figured what a great time to try and bang one out! A special occasion fluff piece! Thank you so much for those who have followed me! 200 may not be a lot to some of you, but it is a huge milestone for me!

Summary: Soulmates are born with their partner’s name tattooed over their heart. What happens when the reader is born with a famous missing Captain America’s name?

Warnings: A poor deer gets hit by a car, minor accident, very little injury and blood.

Word Count: About 1700 words (more or less)


Originally posted by skylerlockerbie

Steven Grant Rogers.

When I was born, my parents and doctors were astonished. Captain America had been presumed dead since the forties, making it an impossible scenario at the time. History books never mentioned that he had a name tattooed over his heart. He hadn’t made that information public. I guess soulmates were considered controversial at that period of time, since there was not a lot of information about it.

“You mustn’t let anybody know who your soulmate is, Y/N.” My father always warned, failing to hide the fear laced in his voice. “You don’t want the wrong people to know this piece of information. It could do a lot of damage and get you hurt.”

So, I covered up the delicate writing. Foundation and high-cut shirts became my life-line. I never told anybody that I had a soulmate, and people didn’t question me. Not everybody’s born with a soulmate, anyways.

The world is cruel. I would rather have had no soulmate, instead of a dead one.

I had gotten pretty good at hiding my tattoo, and refused to let the sting of knowing I would never meet my other half get me down. I had graduated high school with honors, graduated from a great college, and got a job as a nurse in a local hospital in New York. I loved my job. I worked really hard to have a good life, and enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that I was helping people.

Then he was found. He was alive.

I was sitting in the break room, talking to one of my colleagues about an upcoming vacation I’d planned, when someone had shouted to turn on the TV.

Captain America Alive – Frozen in time!

The headlines all said it.

My heart almost stopped beating. He was alive. After all this time. He was alive.

I ran to the restroom to call my mother. “Did you see the television?” I all but shouted, hands shaking.

“I did.” She responded, a smile in her voice. “He’s alive, after all this time.”

“What do I do? I don’t want to freak him out! I’m sure waking up in a different era after being frozen is hard enough, without adding me into the mix.” I sat down on the counter, next to the sink. I needed to think this through, before making any rash decisions. I was overjoyed. I was nervous. I was hurt. I had spent my whole life believing that I was never going to meet my other half. Thinking that the universe was playing a cruel joke on me by giving me the name of a dead man.

I had been wrong after all this time.

“It’s up to you, sweetheart. You need to be the one to make the decision.” I could faintly hear the television in the background of the phone. “If you really want to meet him, you don’t need to do it today. Do it in your own time.”

So that’s what I did. I waited. Three years.

I had followed what he was doing through the news and social media, over time. He had joined a group that called themselves The Avengers, and was trying to do some good in the world.

I was trying to get my life in order, before I met him. I was paying off my student loans, I was working a lot, and I had moved closer to Stark Tower – now called The Avengers Tower – to be close when I was ready to talk to him.

After a particularly grueling day at the hospital – a twelve hour shift – I was supposed to be making my way to see my parents for an upcoming birthday. I was tired. It was really late at night, and I was skipping the set-up with my mother, since the party was the next day. It was a gross night, the rain was coming down in sheets, and it was way too cold. I had been wearing my scrubs, but the shirt was too dirty, so I was driving with my scrub pants and a tank top, making sure the heat in my car cranked up.

Luckily, traffic was pretty light, but the rain was not letting up.

“What the hell! Pass me, asshole.” I muttered, looking in my rearview mirror at a giant SUV behind me. “What, are you trying to pick your goddamn teeth in my mirror?”

My eyes had only flicked to the SUV for a second, but when I looked forward all I saw were a pair of shining eyes.


I gasped, slamming the brakes as the deer was tumbling onto my hood and smashing into my windshield. My body was forced forward, and my face made contact with the steering wheel. My foot felt like it was forcing my body weight onto the brake, and I threw my car in park, praying I was on the side of the road. “God dammit.” I yelled, bringing my hand up to my throbbing nose, and it came away sticky with blood. I felt it, and – luckily – it hadn’t been broken.

Shit. My windshield was fucked.

The deer!

I clicked off my seatbelt, throwing open my door. Before I climbed out, I grabbed my dirty scrub shirt, pressing it against my face to soak up the bleeding.

“Woah, are you sure you want to be getting out of the car, right now?” A woman’s voice said from a few feet behind my car. “Are you okay?”

My windshield was splattered with blood and hair, and the car was totaled. “Fuck! So much for paying off my car!” This fucking sucks.

I turned to the woman, and froze in my tracks. I would recognize that red hair anywhere. Natasha Romanoff? The Black fucking Widow? “Uhh, I’m fine. I just hit my nose. It’s bleeding, but it isn’t-”


The passenger door to the SUV opened, revealing none other than him. Captain America.

He was a lot bigger in person. He was tall, broad, and handsome. His hair was so golden blonde, but dirty at the same time. And his blue eyes stood out from his clear, attractive face. They were the most beautiful shade of blue I had ever seen.

Oh, God, I’m freaking out…

Oh, shit. You were talking, Y/N.

“-It isn’t broken. I’m more pissed about my car.” I shivered, rain making the cold seep into my exposed flesh, and shock of the accident waring off. “I just need to call a tow.”

“I already called one, Ma’am.” His perfect voice flooded my ears, and I had to stop myself from embarrassing myself by swooning. “Are you sure you’re okay? That’s a lot of blood.”

I nodded, using the soiled scrub shirt to wipe the blood from my face and chest. I tossed it into the car and grabbed my umbrella to block off the rain, “D-did they say how long they would be?”

“Twenty Minutes.” He responded, unzipping his hoodie and tossing it to me, “Take this. You don’t want to catch a cold.” Such a gentleman.

I was so focused on not embarrassing myself in front of Steve, that I didn’t notice Natasha eyeing up my badge and my half-wiped makeup over my tattoo. “Hey, Steve.” She looked over, beckoning him closer. “Check out the name on her badge.”

My heart stopped beating. Oh, shit. My eyes were almost bugging out of my head, and I could tell that she knew exactly whose name was tattooed over my heart.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He read aloud, voice questioning. His head sprung up, looking serious and taken aback, “Your middle name wouldn’t be Y/M/N, would it?”

I smiled sheepishly, taking my sleeve and wiping the rest of the dripping foundation off my chest, “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled, a look of relief on his face. “You’re my soulmate.”

I felt my face blush, and I bit my lip – heat radiating off my cheeks as he walked up to me, “And you’re mine.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, before?” He questioned as Natasha walked back over to the SUV.

I wrung my hands together, nervousness taking over my body, “Well, uh, I don’t know. I mean, it’s pretty surreal seeing you in person and not on the news.” I wrapped his hoodie tighter around my body, “Plus, I mean, I thought you were dead my whole life, so I never exactly planned out what I would say the first time I ever met you.”

His face fell, “I’m sorry. I had my whole life before the ice thinking about meeting you, and you spent yours thinking that I was never going to be with you.” He gently grabbed my hand, leaving my other one free so I could hold the umbrella. “I’ve had a whole speech planned since I knew what this tattoo meant, and I’ve forgotten every line.” He chuckled, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “I’m happy to finally meet you, Doll. You’re beautiful.”

I cleared my throat, “You’re not so bad yourself, Captain.” Oh my god, he isn’t disappointed. Thank god.

“You can call me by my name, you know.” He winked, leaning against my dripping car. “So, do you want to go get some coffee, or something?”

“Oh, shoot!” I pulled my hand out of his, and leaned back into my car to grab my phone, “I was on my way to my parents’ house for a birthday that’s supposed to be tomorrow.” I quick texted my mother, letting her know that I was going to be late without going into details. “I would love, some coffee, though.”

He chuckled, running his hand through his wet hair, “Why don’t we leave Natasha with your car, and I’ll take you to your parents’ house? We can stop for coffee on the way?”

“Sure, that sounds lovely.” I was so relieved that he wasn’t disappointed. I had always dreamed of meeting my other half. This was not a dream, this was reality – and I was so ecstatic, I could cry.

Natasha came over, tossing Steve the keys to the SUV and my suitcase from the back seat. “You kids have fun, I’ll have this towed back to the tower. Make Stark pay for it.”

Steve ushered me over to the vehicle, opening my door and taking my umbrella from me. He jogged over to the driver’s side door and closed my umbrella, hopping in and starting up the SUV.

As he pulled back onto the highway, his right hand took hold of my left, “I am really glad I found you, Doll.”

Another blush crept its way over my skin, and I gave his hand a little squeeze, “I’m really glad I found, you, too.”

As we rode, I felt a sense of happiness spread through me. My soulmate had finally found me, and I’d finally found him.

My heart felt complete.

I could finally show my tattoo to the world.

Steven Grant Rogers.

My soulmate.

TAGS: (I do forever tags, whoever wants to join the party!)

@luckynumber1213 @mrsnegan25

It’s Complicated - Theo Raeken

Summary: Based of one of my favorite songs Bad Things by MGK ft. Camila Cabello. Takes place during season 6.

Theo Raeken x Reader

Word Count: 2,976

Author’s Note: Second imagine! Wooo! I was never really a Theo girl. I couldn’t understand the appeal since he was evil. But I love this song and I thought it’d be great for Theo. I know the song is called Bad Things, but it could have easily been called it’s complicated. Also, I’m still not 100% sure what Cody’s eye color is. It looks blueish but sorta greenish. Idk. If you know, tell me please. 

It’s late but it’s still Teen Wolf Tuesday

P.S. Some of the words are lyrics to the song. I wish I could take credit, then I could pay off some of this college debt. In other words, I don’t own them.

Originally posted by stilinski-jpeg

Mrs. Douglas was going on about some science experiment she was going to have the class do. But you were too busy staring out the window to pay attention. There was going to be a full moon tonight. Which meant another night you were going to wolf-out. It’s been 3 months since Theo got dragged to wherever the hell he was, which meant it was going to be the 3rd time you’d get chained up at Lydia’s lake house. Theo was your anchor, and with him gone you had no one to think of to calm you.

Some would say you were out of your mind to be in love with Theo Raeken. Some being Stiles. You couldn’t really explained why you fell for the original chimera.

Keep reading

Time For Pi equals 3

The Brew’s logo is of three crows. Originally, there were three crows. Spencer, Bethany and Twincer - or should I say, Tripencerany (sorry!)

In this, I will use Twincer until we know her name.

In 7x19, someone receives a note with the words “TIME FOR PIE. BE THERE.” with two crows at the top - The Two Crows.

Pie has been mentioned a lot during the show but the one that sticks out to me, is the episode “Gamma Zeta Die”. The “Die” replacing “Pi” in the Greek Alphabet. In this episode, Spencer is searching for the person Ali has been speaking to at Cicero College, Mrs Grunwald.

Later, Spencer and Toby head to Ravenswood to search for Grunwald, where there were crows circling above them and one smashes into the windshield and dies.

One of the 3 crows, Bethany died. Leaving only Two Crows left. Spencer and Twincer.

No one knew that Mary was expecting triplets. Spencer was born first and was handed over to Veronica when she was “less than 5 minutes old.” A few minutes later, another baby was born… And then another. Veronica had already left with Spencer, so Twincer and Bethany were put into the system and were fostered together.

In the last episode, we saw “Spencer” visit Toby. I got strong twin vibes from the way she was acting. When they got it on, he stroked her bullet wound scar BUT it wasn’t Spencer’s bullet wound. It was Twincer’s stab wound, inflicted on her by her sister, Bethany.

There are more triplet clues but I can only remember these off the top of my head - 3 skeletons in Wren’s apartment. 3 skeletons in the dollhouse.

Wren and Twincer either met in the foster system, were adopted together or he is Charles.

I also think Grunwald has more to do with the story. She was in Radley because of her power of sensing things and she has a strong link to Charles.

Rucas AU | The Bet [12]

[ Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven]

Prompt: After damaging $1000 worth of private property on a dare Lucas needs a quick way to make the money to pay the guy back. When Charlie Gardner suggests a bet Lucas takes him up on his offer. And what is the bet? Get into the pants of Riley Matthews, the schools very own goody two-shoes princess.
Word Count: 2,623
Chapter: 12 (Final Chapter) 

AN: Trigger Warning! This chapter does include graphic description and does mention death. HOWEVER I do promise it doesn't end as sad as it starts. 

♡ ♡ ♡

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! I recently reread the 'Willowsbend' series by miss_grey and I wanted to read more witch!Castiel, but I've only found a couple decent ones. Any recs?

Here are a few fics that fit the bill! Since a male witch is sometimes called a wizard, we have included a few of these that fit as well. Check out this ask if you want more fics in the wizarding world.

I. Witch!Cas or Witch!Dean

Moving On [M, 22,000 word count] (witch!cas, ghost!dean) 

Castiel is a witch who reads fortunes for a living. Dean, an innocent customer, stops by for a reading. His cards reveal a shocking fortune and the next time he meets Castiel it’s as a ghost.

A Different Kind of Magic [T, 4,800 word count] (witch!cas)

Castiel is a witch that prides himself on his healing spells and Dean is that one customer that keeps coming into his shop with a different illness that needs curing.

Castiel looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Well, Dean, you’ve been cursed.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the buzzword. “Cursed? What do you mean?”
Castiel looked at him sympathetically as he pulled out a small, square bottle. “You either made a witch very angry or made someone that knows a witch very angry.”

Bewitched [T, 4,200 word count]  (witch!cas)

It’s not easy to be in love with a witch. 
(A story about singing parrots, talking furniture and grumpy cats.)

The Devil You Know [M, 17,662 word count] (witch!cas, demon!dean)

Castiel is a powerful necromancer living in the forest. A nightmare prophecy, unbidden, comes to him in a dream: the black magician Fergus Crowley will come for Castiel’s help with a little “project,” one that Castiel has absolutely no interest in. Fearful that Crowley’s visit to his home will turn into a forceful confrontation, Castiel uses his expertise to summon a shade for protection in case things get out of hand. In return for his services, the shade – a man damned forty years ago named Dean Winchester – asks for something in return.
Which man will prove to be the greater evil: Crowley, or Dean?

The 10th Day of Christmas: “I Don’t Want a Lot for Solstice” [NC-17, 23,300 word count] (witch!cas)

The tree catching on fire, Dean would maintain to the end of his days, had clearly been started by the squirrels. Or outlet overload, or outdated breaker boxes; possibly a frayed extension cord, or maybe a malfunctioning string of fairy lights. Not to mention Kevin Tran.It most definitely had not been caused by him and Cas.
In which Dean drives out to Palo Alto to stay with Sam over winter break, and meets Sam’s new co-op housemates, including comparative literature PhD candidate, fundamentalist cult survivor, and practicing witch Castiel Milton—which would all be confusing enough, if Cas weren’t also unfairly gorgeous, especially in cowboy boots.

I Married a Witch [T, 13,400 word count] Bewitched AU (witch!cas)

Bewitched AU. Castiel is a witch, but he’s been doing a good job of pretending not to be—up until he falls in love with Dean and, on their wedding day, realizes that leaving his past behind isn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped. He’s going to have to tell Dean the truth, even if it means losing him.

These Roses Sing [T, 24,600 word count] (witch!cas, witch!dean)

Dean and Castiel have absolutely no reason to meet. 
Castiel is the stepson of the mayor, the second son of the most important family in the city. Dean, meanwhile, has just started learning about mechanics from his father. They belong to different worlds - but when chance brings Castiel into Dean’s father’s workshop, they meet, with incredible consequences. All it takes is a single flower - a rose - to awaken a power within them that they don’t know how to understand or control: they can cast spells on anyone, absolutely anyone, with the gift of a flower. 
But can they learn how to be brave, how to take the gift that’s within them and use it well - and can they find their way back to each other?

Twenty Thousand Miles To An Oasis [M, 25,200 word count] (witch!cas)

Castiel owns a little magic shop in the city. His life is quiet. His practice is simple. It all seems pretty easy until Dean comes into his life- Dean and his brother Sam, who has a skin condition from Hell.

II. Dean and Cas in a witch/familiar relationship:

You Found Me [T, 15,800 word count] (witch!dean, familiar!cas)

Dean is a Witch without a Familiar because, unlike everyone else, he’s never experienced the Call that brings Witches and Familiars together. But that’s fine, really. He doesn’t mind not being able to use his magic, and he definitely isn’t jealous of other Bonded pairs. Nope, not him. Which makes it all the more incredible when an Unbonded Familiar—a crow named Cas—smashes down on his windshield with a broken wing. Dean’s mother is able to heal Cas’s wing, but they’ve got a bigger problem: Cas’s Grace has been stolen, which prevented him from ever initiating a Call. He believes Dean is his Witch, so they embark on a journey to get his Grace back with the hopes that they can officially Bond as a true Witch/Familiar pair.

Addicted To You [NC-17, 120,500 word count] (witch!dean, incubus!cas)

Dean is a Warlock. A very very drunk Warlock. Oh, and a horny Warlock.
Hey, he knows how to summon a succubus!
He should totally do that. Hell yeah! Guaranteed hot sex!
Except that spellcasting while drunk is a Very Bad Idea. He’s just too drunk to remember that.

Blessed Be [M, 37,321 word count] (witch!dean, familiar!cas)

Dean’s been alone for as long as he could remember, that is until rescuing a small kitten turned out to be more of a problem than he bargained for. Now he has a loud mouth shape shifter who is claiming Dean’s a witch, and that Dean’s now his slave. Dean’s life got a whole lot stranger.

Don’t try to search AO3 for witches because every fic that has team free will battling witches will come up. Instead, try these searches on AO3: witch!castiel, wizard!castiel, familiar!castiel, witch!dean, wizard!dean, familiar!dean.

If any of our followers know of any other witchy fics, please let us know

For those interested: Willowsbend and the Willowsbend Series

Note: our witch/familiar tag is a very recent addition and may not have all relevant fics on it. This post was made before we had a tag and is most up to date with fic recs. 

From the time I was in second grade, I wanted to be a teacher. But our family was a paycheck-to-paycheck family. By the time I was a senior in high school, we didn’t have the money for a college application, much less the money to send me off to school. I was sixteen, angry and miserable.

After one especially bitter battle with my mother, I threw some clothes in a bag and ran out of the house. Hours later, Daddy found me on a bench at the bus station downtown. He sat down beside me, and asked if I remembered the time after his heart attack.

I remembered. I’d been 12 years old, and I’d seen how fast a family could be turned upside down.

Daddy said it was the worst time in his life. Worse than when the doctors thought the lumps on his neck were cancer. Worse than when his best friend died. Worse than when he was in a terrible car crash and smashed through the windshield and tore his shoulder open.

“Your mother was at home when they took the station wagon,” he said in a low voice. “And then they said they were going to take the house. She cried every night.”

He paused for a long time. “I just couldn’t face it.”

Sitting there on the bench in the bus station, he told me that he had failed and that the shame had nearly killed him. He wanted to die.

What happened? I asked.

Daddy sat silently for a long time, caught somewhere in his memories of those awful days. He still didn’t look at me. Finally, he took my hand in both of his and held it tightly.

It got better, he said. Your mother found work. We made some payments. After a while, I went back to work. We had less money, but it was enough to get by. We got caught up on the mortgage. You seemed to do okay.

Finally he turned and looked at me. “Life gets better, punkin.”

And he was right. Daddy and I headed home. It was a winding path, but I eventually made it through college and started teaching school. And once one door opened, so did another and another. Life got better.

I’ve carried that story in my pocket for decades. It was how I made it through the painful parts. Divorce. Disappointments. Deaths. When things get tough, I still hear my daddy’s voice, telling me to hang on. It’s a part of him that will always be with me.

Happy Father’s Day to all the daddies who are trying their hardest. Happy Father’s Day to every daddy who sets the example every day of what it means to care for the people you love. Happy Father’s Day to every daddy who tells a child, “Life gets better, punkin.”

—  Elizabeth Warren

anonymous asked:

have you seen american horror story? If you havent i think you should really take a look at the first season because one of the episodes is based on columbine and i want to know your thoughts on it :)

I’m actually a huge fan of the show and I’ve watched every season so far!

The first season is defiantly the best in my opinion. Tate Langdon is such an interesting character, I think the writers did a really good job at orchestrating him. His traits are almost a perfect balance between Eric and Dylan.

Tate relates to Eric because they are both emotionally manipulative, do things compulsively, and are pathological liars. Tate is especially manipulative to Violet, this is seen when he tries convince her to skip school all the time just so he could be with her, causing her to get in trouble. He acts out without really thinking, (like almost everyone he has murdered on show, he only murdered because they were in his way) he does things on the spot without thinking like what Eric use to do. For instance, when Eric smashed Brooks’ windshield not caring about the consequences afterwards. But then he lies straight to Brooks’ mom’s face as he’s apologizing, then he gets stunned when Brooks’ mom calls him for being a liar. Similar to when Tate is trying to apologize to Violet’s dad for the harm he’s done to his family towards the end of the season, in which Violet’s dad applauds him and calls him out for great acting/lying. 

Originally posted by wherethe-endbegins

How he relates to Dylan is (the quite obvious one) that their both hopeless romantics. That’s why Tate is so obsessed with Violet. The only thing that matters to him, was her. But to Dylan his standards were “My happiness. Her happiness. NOTHING else matters.” It seemed like Dylan wanted to die with his soulmate, just like when Tate tried to convince Violet to commit suicide with him. Dylan was also in this psychological battle within himself. Being a good person, but his desires wanted him to be bad. While Tate’s was the opposite. He was a bad person but his desires wanted to be good (for Violet). Dylan mentions in his journal, “…I’ll finally not be at war with myself, the world, the universe — my mind, body, everywhere, everything at PEACE in me — my soul (existence)” 

Tate Langdon defiantly stands out because he’s the kind of character everyone wants to hate yet love. It’s weird to see the similarities that Tate has with both Eric and Dylan. I know this is probably a longer answer than you expected but I thought doing an character psychoanalysis would be interesting. (: 


by the rules of the non-aggression principle, no libertarian has the right to get mad at you if a car tries to fuck with you at a protest and you respond by smashing in the windshield and slashing the tires, imo


Imagine: Being a Metahuman, and Meeting Cisco

Cisco Ramon x Reader

You smiled lazily, as you stared out the car window at the night sky, nodding your head to the radio. Light humming caught your attention, making you turn your head towards the figure sitting in the driver’s seat. One of your co-workers, Ira (eye-rah), who was also a great friend of yours, banged her head dramatically to the beat of the song, humming louder as the chorus to the song came up. A light chuckle left your lips as you looked ahead, noticing that you were soon going to be on an extremely high overpass, with a bunch of other roads intersecting underneath. Past the sea of roads, laid Central City, which was lit up with bright lights, making it seem much bigger than it actually was.

Your stomach slightly dropped as you began to go up the overpass, as Ira slowly made the car started to accelerate, to keep ahead of the late night incoming traffic. Gazing curiously out the window, you watched as streams of cars passed on the road underneath you. Suddenly, a glowing bright light blinded you, the light lighting up the night sky so much, it almost looked as if it was day time.

“What the–Shit!” Ira yelled, as the car in front of the two of you came to sudden stop, making Ira swerve to the right, making the car slam into the guardrail.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion, you body jerking forward so hard, the seat belt on your chest ripped. Your body didn’t slow down, making you soar through the windshield, smashing through the glass. Suddenly, you were airborne, your body flying out of the car, and over the guardrail, before plummeting down to the road underneath the overpass you were supposed to be on. While still in mid-air, a searing hot gust of wind hit you from the side as a shock wave hit you, sending you further towards the right.

In a blink, the slow motion of the event was over, and you were soon speeding towards the road. Before you could take a breath, you reached the road. You mentally prepared yourself for an impact that never came. The feeling of being swallowed surrounded your whole body, as blackness consumed you.


Gasping for air, you shot up in bed, your hands reaching around your neck as the feeling of being suffocated slowly dwindled down. Panting, you glanced around your dirty room, resting your head in your hands as the memories from your past rose to the surface because of the terrible dream you had. It has been almost 2 years since the terrible car accident happened, which killed 8 people, including your friend Ira; While it has been only 11 months since you were able to free yourself from the thick pavement of the road you sank into.

It didn’t take long to find out what happened and why. Apparently some kind of explosion happened at some laboratory facility in the city, which not only cause the car crash you were involved in, but also took the lives of many other civilians. And because of this explosion, your body had somehow mutated during your deadly free fall, making you able to phase halfway through the pavement of the road you were supposed to land on. The crash put you in a coma for several months, while your body slowly healed itself from the wounds. It then took another several months of darkness, for you to find a way to phase out of the pavement. To say the least, you were fucking pissed. You wanted to find out who caused the explosion that killed your friend; that dragged you away from your family, who still believes you died in the fiery car crash that ended Ira’s life; and that forced you to endure months of darkness by yourself, the only thing you could hear was the rumbling as cars passed over top of you.

You forced yourself out of bed, grabbing a change of clothes on your way to the bathroom. After using the toilet, taking a shower, changing, brushing your teeth, among other things, you cracked your neck as you made your way back to your room, where you grabbed your backpack. After putting it on, you fastened the straps around your waist, making sure it was securely in place.


You stared up at the gray building that once held the source of the explosion from before. Glancing around quickly, you ran full force to the wall of the building, feeling as though you were running through molasses as you passed through. Looking around your new environment, you noticed you were now in a dimly lit hallway, that seemed to wrap around, making it unable to see what was at the end of either side. After gathering your bearing for a few seconds, you continued to run as fast as you could, phasing through wall after wall, trying to find any sort of clue that could lead you to finding the truth about what the machine that exploded had done to you and many others. After many twist and turns, you made it to what seemed to be the main room of the laboratory, where there was a semi-circular desk, with computer screens on it; a wall where 4 tv monitors were hanging;many different gadgets and technology that you couldn’t even comprehend.

Sneaking quietly into the room, you shifted your gaze around, not spotting anyone in the room you were in, nor in the room next to it with the glass wall. Shuffling quickly to one of the computer monitors, you plopped down into a rolling chair, taking off your backpack, and dropping it by your feet. You cracked your knuckles before you started quickly typed, trying to find a way to hack into the extravagant data system, only to fail miserably. You shook your head, face-palming as you muttered curses to yourself.

“Of course I can’t hack in! What the hell did I expect to learn from YouTube tutorials?” You muttered, rubbing your temples as a headache began to make an appearance. You weren’t used to being up this early, seeing as it was only 6 o'clock in the morning. You continued to curse yourself out for a few moments, before standing up from your seat. You shook your head one last time at the computer screen, before turning towards the door, only to let out a loud gasp. You hand flew to where your heart is, as it raced from seeing a guy standing at the entrance, looking just as shocked as you felt.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, his hand slowly lowering to his pocket, where the outline of a cellphone was. You opened and closed your mouth multiple times, trying desperately to search your mind for an excuse, but coming up blank. The only thing that was clear in your mind was that you should have thought this through, and that you had to get out of there.

“I-uh….I was- You see I…” you stuttered, completely frozen in your spot. Your eyes drifted down to the stack of papers the man held in his hands. An amazing, yet risky idea came to mind, when you assumed those papers could possibly give you a clue as to what kind of research happens in this facility that you didn’t know about. Stepping closer to the man, you reached your hand out as you forced a smile.

“My name is (Y/n)! I’m supposed to be starting an internship here!” You lied, watching as the man’s shocked face turned into a confused one.

“Intern…?” He asked questionably, seemingly hesitant to shake your hand, but doing so anyway.

“Yes! A female doctor called me yesterday, and asked me to come in early today! I should have known this was too early though, but I wanted to look around some, I hope you don’t mind Mister….” you said with a hearty laugh, trailing off so you could learn the man’s name.

“Uh, Cisco Ramon…” he said, giving you a suspicious stare. You gulped as you realized he now had his phone in his hand, and seemed to be calling someone. Panicking, you quickly snatched the pile of folders out of his hand, leaping back as he desperately tried to take them back.

“I’m so sorry Cisco, but I need these!” You called over your shoulder as you ran towards a wall, phasing out of his view.


Cisco’s mouth hang open as he stared at the wall the girl named (Y/n) had somehow passed through just a second before. His phone slipped out of his hand, the faint sound of Barry questioning if Cisco was alright emitting from it. Cisco ignored the faint sound of Barry’s voice, as he made his way to the wall you passed through, touching the wall as if he was expecting it not to be solid. He didn’t understand why your powers fascinated him so much, especially since nape has seen far better, more interesting powers, but then a thought came to mind.

“Is it (Y/n)’s powers I’m fascinated about, or is it (Y/n) herself?” Before he could debate further, a quick rush of wind flashed by him as Barry came to a speedy halt in the middle of the room. Cisco ran a hand through his hair to fix what flew up with Barry’s quick entrance as he shifted his gaze to Barry, who looked confused and worried.

“What’s wrong? You called on the emergency number,” Barry asked, glancing around to try and spot any potential danger.

“A-uh metahuman just broke in, and stole all the files I had on the recent metahuman spottings,” Cisco said, shuffling over to his computer, where (Y/n) was sitting when he first arrived. Upon flopping in his chair, he noticed the worn-out backpack that sat on the floor. Picking it up, he quickly searched through it as Barry did a quick run around the building to ensure there were no more intruders. Cisco didn’t find anything important in the bag, other than a couple packages (fav/snack), and a few random object that were clearly stolen.

“Do you know anything about this metahuman?” Barry asked, peeking over Cisco’s shoulder to peer inside the bag.

“She said her name was (Y/n), but who knows if she was lying,” Cisco muttered, plopping the bag onto the table next to him, before starting to get to work to find out who exactly this ‘(Y/n)’ person was.

“I’m going to find out who you are, Ms. Intangible.”