#like a random assortment of the kind of little tattoos white girls get on their wrist on vacation

[dollfairy]

I'm pretty facial tattoo neutral, even appreciative of ones that tie into specific traditions

but if your face looks like a flash sheet 😬

[cheetahsprints]

Beyond the Surface

Words: 2822 Summary: Cisco couldn’t stand Harrison Wells. Crossing his path in an unexpected place would change that view permanently. Rating: Gen A/N: Title inspired by Fly Down - Stephen

Cisco tapped his pen on his mouth. He checked over his grocery list to be sure he got everything. It was just general foodstuff. He added some extra items.

- That new conditioner I heard about - All the bath bombs - Try the candle Caitlin suggested that smells like my kinda man called “Mechanical grease and Angst” - A recorder to piss off my grumpy neighbor. Tell him it's for a hipster band. - Dog food. - One of those big fake owls. It might freak out neighbors cats

Cisco always left without dog food. He underlined it three times. He chuckled at the recorder addition, picturing the constipated expression his neighbor would make. It wasn’t a challenge to antagonize him. Cisco was constantly finding new and creative ways to accomplish his mission.

His neighbor was also his professor. He was the unrelenting Harrison Wells. He cursed the day he incidentally moved to his floor, beside him to boot. The man was intelligent, handsome, and mysterious. Under most circumstances, Cisco would have a crush the size of Alaska. Unfortunately, Harrison Wells needed a personality transplant. He was an infuriating jackass. He gave not an inch, and he enjoyed pushing people over the edge.

Every day he passed the man’s giant door poster. It was a picture of the Grinch (cartoon version) that said: Don't bother me after 8 p.m. or I'll steal YOUR Christmas. The building supervisor had referred to him as only Mr. Grinch, due to this decor.

Cisco was willing to bet it was custom-made. Rumor had it that Professor Wells was a man of many talents. Cisco’s complaints also fell on deaf ears. Because no one else lived on this floor to corroborate his stories. Cisco didn't blame people for moving. On the bright side, he had to pay lower rent for this shit apartment location. The apartment itself was nice, with a big bathtub, walk-in closet, and balcony. It was worth Wells knocking on his door to tell him his party was too loud. Wells threatened to call the cops, but he never did. He knew Cisco would have it cleaned and shut down before they got halfway there.

His cats meowed all hours of the night. Cisco didn't know how he could hear them running around at night. Especially since one was a stick. One had also snuck into his apartment and shredded his stuffed Rocky the flying squirrel. It had been a present from his ex, Lisa. On one hand, technically kind of a good thing. On the other, he had liked that squirrel.

Cisco perked when he heard his six month old brown-and-white shih tzu mix yapping. He strolled out to the balcony. Sure enough, there they were. Wells’ stringy black and white oriental shorthair and tabby maine coon. The maine coon was the chillest animal on the planet, asleep to the tune of barking dog. That was the one that murdered his squirrel. Everytime Cisco left his apartment, the oriental starting yowling from behind Wells’ door. Then his puppy barked her head off.

Stevie, his brindle greyhound, appeared to investigate. He nudged Cisco curiously. He patted his service dog on the head absently. Cisco was prone to seizures. They were mostly random, but could sometimes be caused by distress. He grabbed a squeaky toy to distract Buttercup. He closed the balcony doors. He packed up and got Stevie in his work outfit. He expected to run into the Professor’s dumb face when he opened the door. He always complained about Buttercup’s barking even though he could just bring in his cats. Cisco had nothing against cats as a whole. He had everything against Wells’ disregard for the effects his cats had on others. Cisco was relieved when he was miraculously not there. He either decided to keep to himself or went out. Cisco saw enough of him in class, it just figured he would end up living beside him.

On a positive note, pissing him off was the most entertaining thing. He even drove him crazy in class. On the first day, Professor Wells had began by saying, “Science fact: The world around you is made up of protons, neutrons, morons, and electrons.”

When he said “morons” he had looked directly at Cisco. He wasn’t sure if Wells was presumptuous, if it was an accident, or if the man was prejudiced. Wells hadn’t eased up on him. He had called on Cisco to answer the toughest questions, contradicted all of his answers. Cisco wasn’t a special case, Wells was mean to other students, but they were slackers or whatever. He did have the potential for kindness, immediately helping anyone who seriously required it.

Either way, Cisco went out of his way to make his teaching aspect of life a bit of a nightmare. He pretended to be incredibly dumb in class, forcing Wells to cater to him. He would ace his tests and grin like a little shit.

He would ask the stupidest most basic questions, eyelashes fluttering like an infatuated schoolgirl. Wells was that “hot silver fox professor” as the women, and even some men, all of whom had no self respect, referred to him. They fawned over him. It was revolting. Cisco made them upset too by imitating their behavior. Wells always apparently lost his train of thought. He would sort of freeze on the spot, mouth open. He stuttered over his next words. It took everything Cisco had to hold in his laughter.

He kept the irritation to the minimum at home. Needless to say, but the airheads in his class didn’t believe Wells played the most obnoxious music at four in the morning. They didn’t believe he had a psychic connection to his cats and bid them to drive Cisco up the wall. They didn’t believe Wells pounded on the wall when Cisco played Christmas music. They didn’t believe he would sit on his balcony and throw things onto Cisco’s. Those objects had included: a wrench, a stupid singing toy from a dollar-per-item store, and even a rather large dildo. He had the supernatural ability to know when Cisco was studying. His hobby of throwing random shit would always scare the daylights out of Cisco.

For some reason, they did believe when he told them about the time Cisco had returned to his apartment shirtless. Some wiseass at he dog park had knocked him into a puddle of mud. At least, he hoped it was mud. He had thrown his shirt away and stormed home in a huff. Wells had seemed to choke on his own saliva when he saw Cisco. His blushing and stuttering was adorable. It was like he had never seen another man shirtless. 

Cisco figured he might’ve been offended by the tattoo, curling around his nipple and over his shoulder. Cisco had experienced a bit of a phase in his first semester of college. He lost a bet which required him to get the tats. They were pretty, and he luckily didn’t end up regretting his decision. He went through a bit of a ‘only get away with being young and dumb once’ phase. He cleared his less that stellar ideas and urges from his system, to pave the way for responsible adulting. He would have a lot of stories for his kids, if he ever felt like having any. Maybe he would tell the stories to Barry’s or Caitlin’s.

Stevie walked easily beside him in the Starling-Central City Shopping Center. He whistled a jaunty tune. He was having a pretty good day. He had satisfied with his level of studying for the upcoming exams and wasn’t exhausted. His new puppy hadn’t peed on the carpet this week. He hadn’t seen Wells’ annoying face yet.

He spoke too soon. He saw Wells, browsing in the assorted candles and incense. He glared at his turned back. He couldn’t believe the man chose this day to enter society and be shopping for something Cisco was looking to purchase. He tentatively stepped into the section, footsteps light. He hoped Wells wouldn’t see him.

He heard someone scoff and stage-whisper, “Do you see that rat he has in his cart? Like anyone believes that’s a real service dog.”

His girlfriend cackled. “What an asshole.”

Cisco’s gaze riveted on Wells’ little dog. She was a chihuahua-corgi mix named Rocket. Wells was secretive as hell. The only things Cisco knew was that he had a daughter and pets. That was due to the photos on his desk of a young girl in braces, a calm Chorgi with its tongue hanging out, next to the 85 % legs oriental shorthair (same pic) and one of the fluffy Maine coon. And there was a final faded, worn one of a German Shepherd/Dalmation in a doggie wheelchair next to an urn simply engraved Sam - Never Forget. Cisco had asked the little dog’s name, and gotten such a gruff reply that he didn’t inquire further.

It was simple to assume his professor was not much beyond a grumpy old jerk. His humanity seemed to be buried deep. He was robotic, functional enough to take care of pets and teach a class, that was all. Cisco would have to rethink that. Rocket was even cuter in person. Wells had obviously heard and he winced. He picked up Rocket, cradling her close. He marched up to the couple.

“Hey what is your deal? His dog is well-behaved, and he did nothing to you!” Cisco crossed his arms, raising his chin. The boyfriend attempted to tower over him, but he was no match for Cisco’s sheer force of will.

“Back off asshole,” The girlfriend butted in. “No one asked you.”

“I’m the asshole? It’s pretty rude to go around assuming things about someone’s life. For all you know, he nearly lost his life fighting in a war.”

“For all I know, you’re a phony too. Look at that - that thing you have. Is it imported from Africa or something?” The Dude narrowed his eyes at Stevie. And that was the end for Cisco.

“Listen here,” he said dangerously, voice flat. “Judgey tools like you is why we can’t have nice things. You can get that stick out of your ass and -”

Dude started making offended noises. The Girlfriend looked ready to jump on Cisco and tear his hair out. He braced himself. Let them try. A distinct high-pitched bark interrupted his tirade. His mouth shut with an audible click, and he whirled around. Rocket was back in the cart, whining, trying to get to Harrison Wells. He was crouched on the floor, all six feet of him. His hand was covering his eyes. The other hand was braced on the shelves. He was rocking back and forth, making breathy noises.

Cisco rushed over, argument forgotten. He wasn’t sure if he’d go to hell for it, but he gently picked up Rocket and placed her on the floor. He certainly lost his mind whenever someone tried to touch his well-trained greyhound on duty. But this seemed like an emergency. Rocket whined again and snuffled on Wells cheek. He sighed and pulled her close, taking deep breaths. Cisco shifted. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the couple had wandered off. Confrontation wasn’t always the best idea. Sometimes, his anger got the better of him. Stevie watched calmly. He looked a bit twitchy. He was always wary whenever Cisco got himself into tense situations.

Wells gained control of himself. His eyes were glazed for a moment, then it faded. His hands were shaking. Rocket was pressed close, licking at his face. He picked her up and stood, clutching her to his chest. He stared at Cisco with wide, bleary eyes. He had never seen Wells looking so spooked.

“Hey buddy. You good or do you need to call someone?”

“Did - did I hurt anyone? When episodes strike, I black out,” Wells explained at Cisco’s confused look. “I can be prone to violence because I think I’m. Back there.”

His voice was at such a low pitch. Cisco was stiff as a board. He shook out his hands, trying to loosen his muscles. He wasn’t afraid. He just wasn’t sure how to tread here.

“No it’s fine. You were kinda on the floor. Was that my fault?”

“They started it, you were only trying to defend me, thank you,” Wells replied.

He was surprisingly relaxed, for all that they didn’t get along. Cisco felt like a veil had been torn from in front of his eyes. He saw everything in front of him anew. He should really take some of his own advice.

“Well, it got a little out of hand ‘cause I don’t know when to shut my mouth and walk away sometimes. Can I - can I buy you some ice cream or something, Professor Wells?”

Wells blinked. Then he laughed, heartily. “You can call me Harry, Mr. Ramon.”

“Cisco!” He continued, mostly to himself, “Big Belly Burger sounds damn good right now.”

Harry nodded in agreement. Cisco indicated his cart. Harry began to pile his stuff inside. It was more efficient to take one cart. His eyes widened at the Star Wars paraphernalia. So, he was a fellow nerd too. There was probably so much Cisco didn’t know about him. These recent discoveries only scratched the surface. He suddenly had an overwhelmingly urgent desire to know everything that Harry would give him.

On the way to the in-store restaurant, Cisco said casually, “I have seizures. Stevie here, he’ll sit and howl when he senses one coming, so I can find a safe place. He stays by my side and helps me out. Completely necessary just like yours.”

“Some people think they’re smart. The reality being they know nothing at all,” Harry replied.

“I know that all I know is that I do not know anything,” Cisco said and snorted. “That guy didn’t even know how to remove the stick in his ass.”

“There’s no proof of that phrase, but the spirit of it is true.”

They finished their meals, bought separately, and Harry paid for their ice cream. Cisco opened his mouth to protest. He was silenced by Harry’s glare.

“I’m sorry I act empty-headed in your class,” Cisco confessed.

Harry nodded and lapped at his ice cream. He smiled as he scooped some with two fingers and fed it to Rocket. Absurdly, Cisco’s stomach started doing acrobatics. He couldn’t pinpoint the cause. He scratched Stevie’s ears, who made a dog-sigh of content.

“I’m sorry for being a difficult neighbor,” Harry offered. “Let’s promise to be at least civil to one another for now on?”

“Agreed. Life will be much easier. And we’re totally having a Star Wars marathon.”

Harry grinned. He rubbed at his lips with a finger. Cisco gnawed on his cone and watched him for a moment. He felt a stab of guilt. He had despised Harry for his behavior. He was a hypocrite. He saw now he had acted the exact same way and judged him. He knew next to nothing about his private life, because he presumed that he did not have one. What did he think? That Harry went home and hooked himself up to a charger?

The man probably had dreams, hobbies, as many likes as dislikes. Hell, Cisco had known he had a family he must care about, from the picture of his daughter on his desk. Cisco distantly noticed Harry had no wedding ring. Somewhere, under all that brain and bluster, Cisco was beginning to see his heart.

The best restart would be to address the root of the problem. Then they could clear the air. He licked his lips nervously. He locked his fingers in his lap and leaned forward. Harry folded his arms on the table, chin lifting in preparation.

Cisco kept his voice soft and not accusing. “Why did you single me out the first day of class?”

“Are you kidding? I heard you were practically wunderkind,” Harry answered in an incredulous tone. “I was very impressed with your records.”

“Seriously? I grew up in the most obscure town.”

“I’m in the habit of keeping an eye on talent. Finding out you were in my class made my entire week, which isn’t saying much, but still. You are the most brilliant and creative person I’ve met, aside from my daughter.”

Cisco internally preened, a flush of pleasure coming over him. He had a weakness for direct compliments of his talents. He realized that also meant Harry had believed in exactly none of his bullshit. Harry pointed at his own face and raised his eyebrows. Cisco squinted at him. Harry spread his hand and made circles. Cisco scrambled in embarrassment to wipe his face off. He found it wasn’t as bad as Harry indicated. He scowled.

“You say such sweet things. But you’re still a dick.”

“Did you really expect anything else?”

[streetsavoir-faire]

name : Damien Dodger Quincy Rodriguez Jones. alias ( nicknames ) : Dodge. Dodgie, Jones, Quin, DJ, Kid age : 22  birthday : May 26th 1998

moral Alignment : Chaotic Good jung : ENFP enneagram : The Challenger four Temperaments : Sanguine hogwarts House : Slytherin

nationality : American sex : Male gender : Male preferred pronoun(s) : He/Him/His sexual Orientation : Pansexual religion : None. occupation : Part time Mechanic / Musician / Small-time thief. spoken languages : English, Spanish. non-spoken languages : Street code (’Hobo signs’)   speaking voice : Thick typical New York accent. I say ‘typical’ but.. it’s probably a slowed down version of the Manhattan twinge. singing voice : Can I say Billy Joel is that allowed lmfao

birth order : First, Only (Technically; First; Older brother to a brother and sister, but he’ll never know them) But he considers Oliver, Rita, and Tito to be his pseudo-siblings. parents : Biological parents; Catalina + Mike Rodriguez (But like above, considers Fagin + Einstein to be his parents, and Frankie as his uncle since they were the ones that practically raised him) significant Other(s) : None. eye colour : Dark Brown hair colour : Black height : 5′10 weight : 153.4lbs tattoos and Piercings : Dodger has a wide assortment of tattoos up and down his arms and a little onto his chest. He’d gotten them free or cheap from a friend he knew back in New York who would basically use Dodger as a canvas to practice on. Because of this - his tattoos are kind of random, and some of them are clearly the work of an apprentice level artist, but he loves them all the same. As for piercings, he has his ears pierced and wears 14mm gauges currently. Previously, he had his eyebrow pierced and snake-bite lip piercings. attire Style : Casual street wear. Ratty jeans and t-shirts. Backwards hats or beanies. Worn black and white converse. Nothing fancy. hygiene (good or poor) : Good. scent: Faintly of cinnamon. imperfections (beauty marks, birth marks, scars, blemishes, etc) : Eyebrow scar from where his eyebrow ring was once ripped out, distinct freckle below eye, many various scars from injuries/scraps - surgical scar from a broken left arm. disorders : none bad habits : Manipulating people, zoning out while someone is talking to him, smoking, cracking his knuckles, drumming his fingers.

had sex : Yes. had sex in public : A time or two. kissed a boy : Yes. kissed a girl : Yes. smoked / drank / done drugs : Yes x3. Still does all three..   had a broken heart : Yes. been in love : Unrequited love, yes. stayed up for more than 24 hours : That was often the Dodger way back in New York. a virgin : No. a cuddler : With the right people. Usually just the gang though. a kisser : Course - why not? scared easily : Not at all. jealous easily : Depends, but when he is, he’s a passive aggressive kind of jealous. He’ll play it off like he isn’t while internally throwing a fit. trustworthy : Uhhhhhhhhhh well. That depends on who you are honestly. Are you his friend? Then yes, for the most part. Are you a stranger? Don’t trust him for a second. single : Yup. in a relationship : Nope. considered mean : By those who hurt his family, yes - though he can also come off as a little arrogant so.. sometimes probably.

wanted to kill someone : Abso-fuckin’-lutely. fears : Losing his family, his family getting hurt in general but especially because of him,