Feel almost sick with fatigue and stress. I haven't been out of this goddamn house in weeks because there are no taxis, not even to see my dogs who live with my ex 12 mins away. I can't schedule a haircut. I can't go and sit at my favourite cafe. I can't visit my friends. If me or any of my family or my cat or dog has a medical emergency, we won't be able to get ride at short notice. I can't do a fucking job because I'm too stressed out.
I don't want to live in this fucking country anymore. If I had the health for it I would be joining a militia just for the chance to blow these fuckers up one by one. 22 million lives completely destroyed and still held hostage by the worst fucking criminals in the country. This is fucking terrorism.
Here's a $20 donation to the ACLU: imgur<.>com/cNTrU6P for the prompt: how about a barry/cisco holidays fic with barry being really sappy and doing over-the-top things for cisco? (bonus points for creative use of powers?)
This took SO LONG, I’m so sorry! But here it is! Obviously the holidays have passed us by so I took some liberties:
Barry was acting weird.
“Hey, you’re gonna be at the lab on your birthday, right?” he’d asked Cisco on Monday, fidgeting with one of Caitlin’s pencils until it became a yellow blur in his fingers.
“Considering it’s a Thursday, which is traditionally a weekday, yeah, that was the plan,” Cisco said. “Is that a problem or something?”
The pencil burst into flame; Barry yelped and dropped it. “Yeah! Yeah, of course, work birthdays are the best birthdays. It’s cool. I’ll see you later.”
He blitzed out of the room.
Caitlin walked in and frowned. “Why is there a small fire on my desk?”
*
“If you could pick one food to eat for the rest of your life, nutritional value be damned, what would it be?” Barry asked on Tuesday, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was about to set a long jump record.
Cisco paused the simulation video he was running and looked up at the ceiling to think. “Pancakes. Really good ones, with the lacy edges and lots of real maple syrup.”
“Cool,” Barry said. “Oh, hey, I gotta go.” He vanished in a burst of air, then reappeared just as quickly. “Hey. Bacon on the side?”
“Obviously.”
“Great. Bye.” And he was gone again.
H.R. tilted his head at Cisco. “Is he okay?”
Cisco started up his video again. “Honestly, I’ve given up wondering.”
*
“Hey, what’s your favorite color?” Barry asked.
“Is this really the time to be asking me this?” Cisco asked, then winced as security footage showed Barry zipping out of the way of a hail of bullets just in time.
Barry wove gracefully through the eight heavily armed bank robbers like a prima ballerina through a field of stupefied water buffalo. “It just occurred to me.”
“You couldn’t figure it out? I picked it for your suit. Bogey on your six, by the way.”
Barry spun, ducked, and knocked out his attacker with a much sweeter right hook than he would’ve thrown a year ago. “Aw, really?”
“I mean also red’s the color of speed and, and firetrucks and...I don’t know, Lightning McQueen, but yeah. Don’t be too flattered.” The fact that Barry happened to look even more like some unreal sylphan creature in Cisco’s favorite color was just a coincidence, and not one Cisco planned on sharing out loud.
“I like red too,” Barry said warmly.
Julian leaned in towards the mic, shoving Cisco out of the way. “If you two are through flirting, maybe Barry could wrap this up so that the CCPD can move in?”
Cisco elbowed him as Barry spluttered. “Aw, Julian, I can flirt with you too if you’re feeling left out,” he said, and hoped no one noticed how flushed his face had just gotten.
*
All of Barry’s weird jumpy questions made sense on Thursday.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Cisco said as he walked into the lab. The entire place was festooned in red balloons and streamers, with a huge sign hanging over Cisco’s workstation reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY CISCO” in giant glittery red letters. There was a birthday cake in pride of place on the center of the table, but it almost disappeared under the plates and plates heaped with towers of buttery, syrupy pancakes and surrounded by endless rashers of bacon.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” everyone - wow, everyone - crowed, H.R. through a mouthful of bacon.
“Thanks, guys!” Cisco said. “You did all this for me?”
“Well, Barry, mostly,” Caitlin said, stepping forward to give Cisco a hug. “The rest of us were just supposed to be here on time.”
Cisco looked over Caitlin’s shoulder to where Barry was rubbing the back of his neck and kicking at the ground. “Well, you know, birthdays only happen once a year. And. It.” He shrugged as if the last two words had been coherent and universally relatable sentences. “Who doesn’t like pancakes, right?”
“Who indeed,” H.R. cut in before Cisco could call Barry on his weird diffidence. “You know, this reminds me of something that happened on my Earth, don’t think it happened here, the great Syrup Strike of 1987…”
Cisco disentangled himself from Caitlin and went to get a plate of pancakes and bacon before H.R. put him off of them forever with whatever weirdo story he was about to tell.
It was safe to say no one got much science or superheroics done that day. H.R. ate too much sugar and fell asleep under a desk. Jesse and Wally went off together somewhere, giggling, and Joe, Iris, and Julian all got called in for work-related issues. Even Caitlin made her excuses early - she was having an attempt at a reconciliatory dinner with her mom and didn’t want to be too full to eat.
Barry refused to let Cisco clean up on his birthday, so Cisco perched on a desk and picked at the last of the bacon while Barry blitzed around the room in a frenzy of tidying. Within minutes the lab was clean - not to the original Wells’s standards, but certainly more spotless than any room at Cisco’s place.
“I can’t believe you did all this for me, man,” Cisco said as Barry slowed to a normal pace.
“Yeah, well.” Barry was flushed, but that might have just been from the cleaning. There was red glitter in his hair. “You’re my best friend. And things have been...I don’t know. You’re special to me and I wanted to make sure we were okay.”
Cisco felt his ears heat up. You’re special to me. He couldn’t believe he was so swoony over such a cheesy Hallmark statement, but “cheesy Hallmark” was so very Barry, and Cisco had been swoony over Barry since approximately four seconds after Barry woke up from his coma.
He hopped down from the desk. “You’re special to me too,” he said, and reached out to pull Barry into an affectionate bro-hug -
- and Barry leaned down and kissed him.
Cisco froze, startled, and Barry jerked back. “Sorry!” he said. “I thought - I didn’t mean to - I thought you were going for a kiss and I - uh, I’ll just go now.”
He turned and would have zipped away if Cisco hadn’t rallied and managed to vibe the doors until they shook closed. “Wait!” he said. “Wait. Can you just - wait? For a second?”
Barry turned to face him, his face as red as his costume. “I really am sorry, Cisco,” he said.
Cisco shook his head - not refusing his apology, just trying to make sense of this. “You thought I was going to kiss you?” Barry nodded miserably. “So were you kissing me back to be polite, or…?”
“Not…” Barry sighed. “Not just to be polite.”
“So…” Cisco glanced at the remnants of the cake, the decorations stuffed into a garbage bag by the doors, Barry’s pink cheeks and shifty eyes. “So you did all of this because you like me.”
“No!” Barry said quickly. “I mean, I didn’t - you’re my friend, Cisco. That’s true no matter what.” He glanced at the ceiling. “The other part...might be true too.”
Cisco nodded slowly, taking this in. Then he took a step towards Barry.
“I’m gonna make this really clear,” he said. Barry swallowed, looking like he was facing a firing squad. “I’m going in for a kiss this time.”
Barry stared at him. Then he absolutely lit up.
“Happy birthday, Cisco,” he murmured as he stepped in and gave Cisco a real, solid, superhero-style kiss.
Cisco pulled back and grinned at him. “You know what?” he said. “It really, really is.”
the first ever piece of plastic that testifies my admission into the slave-to-debt economy has been APPROVED, and chelsea manning’s lawyer, who is a kick ass lgbt lawyer reached out to me and told me to hit him up if we were in the same area. SCORE.
blah blah Engineer dudeShep biotic use headcanon blah blah
"I think Engineers can use biotics," I said to myself, as I created my Engineer dudeShep.*
Bzzz. Wrong.
Someone sent in a headcanon to the headcanon blog that technically-skilled Sheps can basically do ~SCIENCE~ and figure out how to do a biotic power like Throw or Warp.
So I went with that. So my dudeShep can do a Singularity.
I figure it's probably a really wussy Singularity and all it can do is basically pick up a medium-sized rock, which would make it kind of a neat trick but fairly worthless except as some sort of surprise attack.
*I think biotic bonus powers may have been the only option at the time too, but I definitely thought this was actually correct.
