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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years

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Poor Little Rich Boy

Hartley Rathaway isn't running away from home. (Probably.) Nor has he been kidnapped by the Trickster (not that Kid Flash believes that). What he is doing is celebrating the craziest 16th birthday ever.

Trigger warning for emotional/verbal abuse.

He checked himself, double-checked himself. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his suit was perfectly buttoned and perfectly neat, and he was perfectly prepared, mentally, for the show he was about to put on. However, it never hurt to be careful, so he turned to the butler who was to escort him outside and asked,

“How do I look, Edward?”

“Very good, Master Hartley. The Master and Missus should be pleased.” Thus assured, Hartley nodded, and the butler led him into the grand hall and to his parents. Predictably, both of them were impeccably dressed as well, and his mother was clinging to his father in an affectionate manner. For all the world, they looked like a loving couple, but Hartley knew better. He had heard the vicious rumors the maids and footmen told about his father’s rendezvous (with his hearing, it was impossible not to overhear), and he had certainly heard the squabbles the two of them had behind closed doors when they thought no one could hear-and maybe no one could-no one but him. If they hadn’t been in love with each others’ money, if they hadn’t been afraid that a divorce would lower their reputation amongst their business partners, they would have divorced long ago.

“I trust that you are prepared to make a good showing for our guests and the press,” his father said. It was definitely a statement, not a question.

“Of course, sir,” Hartley replied. There was nothing else to say. With that, he and his parents left their house and walked into their veranda, where Hartley was immediately blinded by flashing lights. This had happened enough times that he was fairly used to it, so instead he simply put on his happiest smile and acted like he was thrilled to be at this soiree. After about two minutes, his father smiled at him (for the benefit of the cameras).

“Happy sixteenth birthday, son,” he said warmly.

“Thank you, father. This soiree is better than I could have imagined,” Hartley replied politely. He hated his parents’ soirees, but it would never do to let the public know. His mother leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“I can’t believe my little boy is already sixteen,” she said, in her best “sad parent” voice. Hartley forced a laugh.

“I suppose it had to happen eventually,” he replied.

“That it did, and your mother and I were prepared for it. Because you are sixteen now, we decided to purchase you your own private plane,” his father said. This time, Hartley didn’t have to feign his excitement (or his surprise).

“Really? Thank you!” he exclaimed. Did this mean that they were finally going to let him out of the house on his own?

“You are quite welcome, son,” his father replied. Then he pulled Hartley into a hug and whispered,

“If you expect to keep possession of the plane, I expect you to tell me every time you leave the house with it, where you are going, when you are returning, and who you are planning to meet with. Furthermore, you must have at least four chaperones with you no matter where you go, and I must know who they are before you leave. If you fail to do this, I will take the plane back, and you will be subject to an 8:30 PM curfew.” The two broke apart, and Hartley’s excitement vanished. There went his hope of finally being able to learn about the world outside of his parents’ social circle. However, he couldn’t reveal his disappointment, so he forced a smile back on his face and said,

“Thank you again, mother and father. You’re terrific.” After three more minutes of smiling and saying generically excited things for the cameras, Hartley finally got a reprieve, in the form of a loud splash. Bruce Wayne, Gotham City’s most eligible bachelor (and most notorious playboy), had apparently had one too many glasses of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Grand Cru and had fallen into the fountain in a rather spectacular fashion, thereby attracting the attention of all the cameras and allowing Hartley to stop smiling and pretending to be happy.

“Am I excused yet, sir?” he asked his father.

“No, you are not. Your birthday is a big opportunity for us to network, and you need to be here for us to do so. This is for your future, son,” his father replied.

“You mean it’s for your wallet,” Hartley muttered.

“What was that, son?”

“Nothing,” Hartley said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to make his father angry at him. His father frowned.

“See that it stays that way.” Hartley started to give his father an assurance that it would when a loud burst of laughter came from the press as Bruce Wayne attempted to get out of the fountain, only to slip and fall back into the water. Hartley would have been mortified if he had been in that situation, but Bruce Wayne simply stood back up a second time and got out of the fountain, laughing and waving at the cameras.

“That Wayne is so crass,” his mother sniffed disapprovingly.

“Well, what can you expect? He’s new money. They’re all like that,” his father replied. However, their conversation about the flaws of new money people was cut short when the reporters, who were no longer being distracted by the entertainment provided by Bruce Wayne, turned their cameras back to them. Hartley and his parents immediately turned their smiles back on for the cameras, and led him towards another family, whom Hartley recognized as Mr., Mrs., and Kathryn Kendell, the wealthy owners of a fast food chain (Hartley couldn’t remember which one).

“Hartley, now that you’re getting close to adulthood, your father and I have decided, along with Mr. and Mrs. Kendell, that you and Kathryn should start dating.” Hartley was so shocked (and mildly terrified) that he almost dropped his act. Although his father had not said it, he knew that “dating” meant that his parents were planning for him to marry Kathryn once he finished college-and Kathryn was the most shallow, vain, and spoiled girl in his parents’ entire social circle. Why had they picked her? (If he had been braver, he might have wondered why he didn’t get a say, but he had always known that his parents were going to decide who he married, just as his grandparents had decided that his parents were going to marry each other. It was just how things were done.) However, he couldn’t say anything in front of the TV cameras, so instead he just smiled and tried to act like he was excited about the prospect of dating the girl. After a few minutes of small talk between him, Kathryn, and their parents, the news cameras finally lost interest in them and went off to film more of Bruce Wayne, who had evidently brought two dates to the soiree and was now trying to prevent a fight between them. As soon as the cameras were off, Hartley frowned and said,

“Sir, I….I’m not sure I’m ready for a serious relationship.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hartley. Your mother and I were dating by the time we were your age. You will be fine. And besides, we and the Kendells both stand to benefit from a marriage between you and their charming daughter, so you need to cooperate with our plans,” his father said. Hartley winced. He really didn’t want to date (let alone marry!) Kathryn Kendell.

“But sir….I don’t think that Kathryn and I are compatible,” Hartley replied.

“You’re too young to know whether you’re compatible with her or not, son. That’s why we arranged this relationship,” his mother said.

“What does Kathryn think about it?” Hartley asked. He was almost afraid to know the answer, but maybe she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

“I love the idea. Why do you think I had Daddy set this up with your parents in the first place? You’re adorable, and you’ve got so much money. I’ve had a crush on you for a really long time,” Kathryn said. Hartley had to resist the urge to groan. Why had she had to choose him?

“See, Hartley? This will work out perfectly,” his mother said, and his father whispered,

“Besides, we’re lucky that we were able to arrange a marriage for you with anyone, given your….defect.” Hartley frowned, knowing that his father was talking about the fact that he was almost stone deaf without his highly advanced hearing aids, and wished, not for the first time, that his parents would stop blaming him for something so utterly out of his control.

“Rachel, Osgood, why don’t we leave our two lovebirds alone together? No romance can bloom with us old-timers around,” Mr. Kendell said.

“If you think that it will help, of course,” his mother said. With that, his parents and the Kendells walked to another part of the veranda, and he was left with Kathryn. As soon as his parents were no longer watching him, he said,

“I think I see a member of the Fall Out Boys,” and bolted into the gardens as soon as she looked away, where, much to his surprise, he found Bruce Wayne.

“Hello, Hartley. What are you doing here?” the man asked, sounding remarkably sober for a man who was so drunk that he had tripped into a fountain.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne. I’m...well….I’m trying to avoid the girlfriend my parents picked out for me. What are you doing here?”

“Hiding from my girlfriends. I managed to get them to stop hating each other, but now they both hate me, and, well, I thought it would be wise to hide for a bit until they cool off. Did your parents really choose a girlfriend for you?”

“Yes. I know it is traditional, but…..I do wish they had chosen someone other than Kathryn Kendell. We’re so very different, and I don’t think we’d be happy together,” Hartley replied.

“Is that your polite way of saying that she’s a selfish brat?” Bruce Wayne asked. Hartley almost laughed, but stopped himself. He had to try to think well of the girl who would probably be his wife (whether he liked it or not).

“It wouldn’t hurt her to learn a few more manners,” he admitted. Bruce laughed.

“No wonder your parents like her. They’re just as stuck up, arrogant, and pretentious as she is-no offense,” he said. Maybe he was drunk after all…...although Hartley had to admit Bruce had a point about his parents’ personalities.

“None taken. You did a nice dive earlier,” Hartley said. Bruce Wayne laughed.

“Thanks. Happy birthday, kid,” he replied. Hartley smiled.

“Thank you.” However, before their conversation could continue, Hartley’s very angry parents stormed into the garden.

“Hartley Robert Rathaway, you are grounded! Abandoning Kathryn like that was unspeakably rude and inappropriate, and you hurt her feelings badly. We’re just lucky her parents didn’t decide to leave. You are going to your room, young man, and you are staying there until I say otherwise,” his father said. Hartley sighed, knowing from experience what this meant. His father clapped his hands, and one of the security guards arrived and led him off towards his room.

“If you ever need someone to talk to at the next soiree, find me, Hartley!” Bruce Wayne yelled. Hartley appreciated the sentiment, but he was dragged out of the man’s hearing range before he could tell him so. About three minutes later, the security guard pushed him into his room and locked him inside. Hartley kicked the door in frustration, but he knew that he was trapped. His room was a good sixty feet off the ground, so he couldn’t leave via the window, and his door was made of solid cypress wood. He was going to be staying here until his father let him out, which, if the pattern established the last time held, would be about three days from now. After about an hour of fuming, he pulled out his flute and started to play, with his frustration adding strength to the song. He spent the rest of his birthday alternately seething, trying not to cry, and playing his instruments, all while trapped in his room. His father did have one of the servants bring him dinner, but the person who brought it to him did not speak to him, and neither did the guard by the door. After eating, he fell asleep at nine, utterly exhausted by the emotions of the day. He was woken at about three AM by a loud crashing sound. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said that someone was in his room. He looked around in confusion, but was unable to make out anything in the dark, so he got out of his bed and started fumbling around to see what had made the noise-only to see that his window was open. Hartley knew he hadn’t opened it, so how had it been opened? His room was several stories off the ground and, even if someone had managed to get a tall enough ladder, the grounds of his estate were literally crawling with guards, most of whom were as well trained-or better trained-than police officers. There was no way anyone could have gotten to his window in order to open it-and yet, it was wide open. While he was staring at the window in confusion, he felt someone-it was definitely a person-bump into him. He was about to scream when the person exclaimed,

“Darn! Darn, darn, double darn! Why did I have to pick a bedroom? Of all the rotten luck! I went through all this work to pull off this trick, and then I give myself away by walking into a bedroom!” The person’s voice was high and squeaky, and Hartley started to wonder if he was dreaming or going crazy. There was no way that a squeaky-voiced person, roughly his size, had managed to get into his room when it was sixty feet off the ground. It had to be a dream.

“W-who are you?” Hartley asked, trying to sound less afraid than he was. The other person seemed to turn on a flashlight, because suddenly Hartley could see that the intruder was a boy about his age, with blonde hair, blue eyes, a garish mess of a leotard, an odd-looking mask, a huge blue cape, and powder-blue shoes. In short, he was the least threatening home invader ever.

“Leaving,” the kid replied.

“Wait! H-how did you get in here? The estate is crawling with guards, and my room is sixty feet off the ground!” Hartley demanded. The kid stopped in his tracks and actually smiled slightly.

“I invented a pair of shoes that let me walk on air,” he said proudly. Hartley looked at him skeptically. There was no way that anyone with such a terrible fashion sense had invented technology that could revolutionize the globe-was there?

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said. The other boy clicked his heels together, and suddenly he was levitating a good six feet off the ground. Hartley gasped.

“See? Airwalkers,” the boy said proudly. Hartley just nodded, dumbfounded. This kid had invented shoes that defied gravity, and he was using them to break and enter?

“A-are you going to hurt me?” he asked quietly. The boy didn’t look (or sound) dangerous, but you never knew. Maybe he was older than he looked and was actually a serial killer or something. The other boy looked hurt by the accusation.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a con man, not a butcher. In fact, you weren’t even supposed to see me-I was trying to find an unoccupied room and just thought that no one was in it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go. It was nice meeting you, though,” he said. He started to walk toward the window, and suddenly Hartley had an idea. It was totally insane, but it would be the perfect way to see the world that existed outside of his parents’ social circle, and to get back at his parents for micromanaging his entire life.

“Take me with you,” he said, sounding braver than he felt.

“What?” the other boy asked, clearly having been taken off guard by the request.

“Take me with you. If you don’t, I will make a racket and attract the security guards,” Hartley repeated. The small, rational part of his brain was telling him that this was a terrible idea, but he ignored it. He was tired of his parents and even more tired of being a Rathaway, and he just wanted to get away from it all, to go somewhere that didn’t expect him to perform all the time.

“Okay, okay, you can come with. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights,” the intruder said. He took off one of his airwalker shoes and handed it to Hartley, who put it on. Hartley then grabbed the boy’s hand and hung on tightly to him as they started walking out the window. Before they got five feet out the window, however, Hartley looked down-and immediately wished that he hadn’t. The ground was terrifyingly far away.

“Are you sure you aren’t afraid of heights? You look a little green,” the boy asked.

“I'm fine,” Hartley lied in a timorous voice as he swallowed his vomit.

“I can always take you back if you’re too afraid to go on,” the boy said mockingly. Hartley frowned. He couldn’t admit to being scared now.

“I told you, I am fine!”

“Just making sure,” the boy replied. Ten minutes of relative silence ensued as they continued to walk. The boy, evidently used to heights, whistled merrily, while Hartley berated himself for thinking that this was a good idea and tried not to faint, vomit, or think about how far he would fall if the boy dropped him or the airwalker shoe malfunctioned.

“You know, if we’re going to be hanging out together, we should probably get to know a little about each other, don’t you think?” the boy said suddenly. Hartley nodded. Maybe talking would distract him from how far off the ground they were.

“All right. Do you want to begin, or should I?” he replied quietly.

“I will! I’m the Trickster, but since we’re friends now, you can call me James Jesse. That’s my real name. I used to be a tightrope walker and an acrobat in the circus, which-trust me-is a lot more interesting than working for snobby rich people like the Rathaways, and now I’m the best con man who ever lived and I get to fight the Flash. It’s a lot of fun,” the boy said.

“Working for the Rathaways?” Hartley asked in confusion. Had this kid-James- been one of his parents’ servants at some point in between traveling with a circus and becoming a con man?

“Yeah. Why would you have been in their mansion if you don’t work for them?” Hartley stared at him in shock. James thought that he was a servant?

“Because I am their son,” Hartley replied. This time, it was James’ turn to stare in shock.

“You’re Hartley Rathaway?” he squeaked.

“Yes,” Hartley replied.

“Are you crazy? Your parents are gonna think I kidnapped you, and they’re gonna send every cop in the country after us!”

“I….I didn’t think about that,” Hartley said weakly. James’ arrival and the subsequent craziness had made him almost forget who he was, but now the reality came crashing down around him again. He was the heir to the fourth or fifth largest fortune in the world. No one would believe that he had voluntarily decided to leave his mansion, his servants, his apparently loving parents, his fine education, and his private jet in order to spend time with a crazy-looking teenage (was he a teenager?) burglar who was also a self-proclaimed con artist. If he hadn’t just done it, even HE wouldn’t have believed it. The media (and his parents, and the police) were definitely going to think that this boy had kidnapped him. Why was he so stupid?

“Yeah, I figured that out on my own. I’m taking you home before they figure out that you’re gone,” James replied. Hartley frowned. True, he didn’t want to be the reason that James was arrested for kidnapping, but he didn’t want to go back to being a prisoner in his own home, either. This was probably his only chance to live even a few days as anything but his parents’ puppet, and he didn’t want to give that chance up.

“I’m not going to let you take me back home. If you want to drop me off somewhere and go off on your own so that you don’t get accused of kidnapping, that’s fine, but I am not going back home until my parents drag me back there,” he said.

“Give me a break, Richie Rich. You live in a mansion, your family employs a hundred servants, you’ve had the best education money can buy, you’ve been to at least ten different countries, and your parents just got you a plane for your sixteenth birthday. Your life can’t be that bad,” James scoffed. Hartley laughed weakly.

“Oh, really? My parents are obsessed with molding me into the “perfect heir”-or at least, as close as they can get given the fact that I’m deaf, which, by the way, they have made clear is a sign that I am defective. My father has already chosen my college, my major, my minor, my roommate, the jobs that I will get after college, and my wife. You heard about one of his birthday gifts to me. The other was my betrothal in all but name to a spoiled, selfish girl that I honestly cannot stand. Neither he nor my mother asked my opinion about any of this, although, considering the fact that they talk to me about once a month, maybe that isn’t surprising. I’ve spent my entire life being told what to wear, what to do, where to go, and what to think by them, and I am tired of it-all of it! I’m tired of never being able to leave my room without a chaperone, I’m tired of having all my decisions made for me, and I’m really, really tired of being a Rathaway. Do you still think my life can’t be that bad? Trust me, you have no idea how bad it is!”

“You have your own plane, your own golf course, your own tennis courts, two Olympic-sized pools, and a professional chef, and you’re going to inherit 15 billion dollars. Forgive me if I’m less than convinced that your life is bad,” James replied.

“I spent most of my birthday locked in my room by my own father! If you hadn’t broken in, I probably would have been in there for three days!” James looked at him in surprise.

“Your dad locked you in your room? What did you do, attack someone?”

“No. I lied to the girl that they have decided I will marry to get away from her. Father was most displeased. He said that I had hurt her feelings and jeopardized their relationship with her parents, and so he had me locked in my room. It is his usual method for punishing my, ah, “unseemly displays” of rudeness,” Hartley replied.

“He’s done it more than once?” James sounded a tad appalled, though Hartley wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though his father was hitting him or anything.

“Yes. Usually it lasts about three days, although there was one time that it lasted for a full week, when I was 14 and told him that I didn’t want to go to his old college,” Hartley replied. He was aware that his parents would be furious if they knew that he was revealing so many secrets to a complete stranger, but he was so frustrated with them that he didn’t care.

“Does he feed you?” James asked.

“Of course he feeds me. He wouldn’t want his only heir to starve,” Hartley replied.

“Okay, okay, I give. Your life sounds pretty bad,” James admitted. Hartley began to reiterate his refusal to return home when he was interrupted by a yawn.

“You know, why don’t we discuss this more tomorrow-er, later today? I don’t want you to fall asleep while we’re a hundred feet off the ground, and we’re pretty close to one of my hideouts, anyway,” James said. Hartley looked at him oddly.

“What happened to (here a large yawn interrupted him) not wanting my parents to think I kidnapped you?” James shrugged.

“Well, if even half of what you told me is true, you need a friend, and besides, you’re way safer with me than you would be on your own. I’d rather be accused of kidnapping than murder. Oh, and you should probably prepare for descent. My hideout’s right in that clearing,” he replied. Ten minutes later, he and Hartley were back on solid ground, much to Hartley’s relief. James then led him to what appeared to be a trailer home painted in fluorescent green and pepto-bismol pink.

“I was under the impression that hideouts were supposed to be easy to miss,” Hartley said. James smiled.

“Would you expect a supervillain to hide out in a green and pink trailer home?” Hartley had to admit that James had a point, even if he thought that his description of himself as a super villain was a tad exaggerated. James opened the door to the trailer and led Hartley inside. The walls were painted with blue and yellow stripes, and yo-yos, hula hoops, dart guns, and unicycles were strewn around the floor.

“You can sleep on my couch,” James said. He gestured at a lime-green lump in the middle of the room. Hartley didn’t particularly want to sleep on the ratty piece of furniture, but he was so tired that he collapsed on it anyway, and was dead to the world after only a few seconds. He was woken at 9:00 AM by his new companion.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. We’re on the news,” James told him.

“Gimme five more minutes,” Hartley mumbled. He had never had a more uncomfortable night, and he was not at all ready to wake up.

“Look, Richie Rich, I know you’re not used to getting up early, but if you want to avoid going back home, we’re gonna have to go. Your parents have figured out that you’re not at home, and because people know that I’m in the area, they think that I kidnapped you, just like I said they would. We’re just lucky the Flash is off with the Justice League fighting aliens right now. If he was here, you’d already be back home.” Now Hartley was wide awake, and he jumped to his feet, only for a red-and-yellow blur to appear and solidify into what looked like the Flash, if the Flash had been under five feet tall.

“You’re under arrest!” James grinned, apparently familiar with the new arrival.

“Why, if it isn’t little Baby Flash!” he exclaimed. “Baby Flash” scowled.

“That’s not my name, and you are in trouble,” he said.

“Um, who are you?” Hartley asked. Not Baby Flash smiled.

“I’m Kid Flash, and I’m here to rescue you,” he said. Hartley looked at James in confusion. He hadn’t heard of any “Kid Flash.” James grinned.

“Hartley, this is Baby Flash. He’s Flash’s sidekick, and he has all of his powers. Baby Flash, this is Hartley Rathaway. He’s rich,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Hartley said, not really knowing what else to say.

“Are you okay, Mr. Rathaway? Has he hurt you?”

“Call me Hartley. Mr. Rathaway is my father,” Hartley replied. Kid Flash smiled.

“All right. Hartley, then. It sounds like you’re okay, so let’s get you home,” he said, before Hartley could continue.

“Wait!” Hartley exclaimed. The boy looked at him in surprise.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to get home?” he asked.

“No, I don’t. I wasn’t kidnapped-I ran away,” Hartley replied quietly. He knew that the boy superhero probably wouldn’t believe him, but he had to at least try to convince him that he hadn’t been taken from his house against his will. Sure enough, Kid Flash frowned and glared at James.

“Undo your mind control, Trickster-now!” he demanded. It would have been a lot more persuasive, Hartley thought, if it hadn’t come from a boy who was nearly two heads shorter than both of them. How old was Kid Flash, anyway?

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re angry,” James said.

“I said undo the mind control! And I am not cute!” Hartley sighed.

“Kid Flash, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I am not under mind control. I ran away because I am tired of being a Rathaway, and this is my only chance to experience some freedom,” he insisted. Kid Flash looked at him skeptically, and then glared at James again.

“Trickster, I’m not kidding. Undo the mind control, or else,” he said firmly. James laughed.

“First of all, that’s the least intimidating threat ever. Second, I’m not mind controlling him. Mind controlling is Mirror Master’s thing, not mine. And even if I could mind control people, which, by the way, I can’t, how stupid would I have to be to mind control one of the most famous billionaires on the planet? Even if that WASN’T totally unoriginal, it would be an awful trick. Nobody would ever believe that Hartley Rathaway had voluntarily left his mansion to pal around with me. Heck, I barely believe it, and it’s true! Face it, kid, your own assumption that I hypnotized him makes it clear that I didn’t do anything of the sort. I’m an artist, not a hack,” he said.

“Then why is he here?” Kid Flash asked.

“He just told you: he’s tired of his life,” James replied cheerfully.

“How could anyone get tired of getting to travel the globe and live in a mansion?”

“I’m not tired of that, exactly. I’m tired of my parents controlling every aspect of my life. I just spent the majority of my sixteenth birthday locked in my room because I felt uncomfortable about their betrothing me to a spoiled, selfish brat, and I want to get away from them for awhile. I know that I cannot stay away forever, but I would very much appreciate it if you would let me stay away for a few days,” Hartley replied. To his surprise, Kid Flash looked sympathetic.

“Your parents sound about as much fun as mine. My parents yell at me all the time, too. They say I’m naive and complain about how I always have my head in the clouds and say that I need to grow up and face reality. My dad even threatened to send me to military school once. If I didn’t have Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris, I don’t know what I’d do. Go crazy, probably. I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad if they just yelled at me, but they yell at each other, too. I kind of thought that when they got divorced, the fighting would stop, but instead they just fight over the phone and try to use me as a go-between to deliver nasty messages. I never actually give them, but I still have to hear them all. Do your parents fight?”

“Not often,” James replied. Hartley rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Kid Flash said, sounding annoyed. James just laughed.

“You’re so fun to mess with, Baby Flash.” Kid Flash glared at him and turned back to Hartley.

“Well?” he asked. Hartley smiled weakly.

“They do not fight in public the way your parents do; that would be detrimental to their public image. Nor do they fight in front of me. However, my hearing is abnormally sharp, so I have heard them fighting behind closed doors, and as such, I know that they are not so fond of each other as they pretend to be. It is quite disconcerting,” Hartley admitted.

“Well, I totally get why you ran away, but I also think that you didn’t think out your plan all that well. The streets are really dangerous for teenagers, and you’ve probably never been outside your estate without chaperones and guards. You don’t know the first thing about defending yourself,” Kid Flash said. Hartley frowned. He knew that the boy had a very good point, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to voluntarily give up his freedom, which would only last for a few days in any case. It wasn’t as though he was planning to leave his home and his parents for good. He just wanted to prove that he was capable of making his own decisions and controlling at least some parts of his own life; and to experience what it was like to not be a Rathaway for a while.

“You’re too cautious, Baby Flash. I’m only seventeen, and I’ve been surviving on the streets just fine. If you keep your wits about you, running away isn’t that dangerous,” James said. Kid Flash shook his head.

“Trickster, you grew up in the circus, so you’re used to traveling and taking calculated risks. Your IQ is practically in the genius range-I mean, you invented shoes that let you walk on air at 13- and you’re also armed with your stupid trick gadgets. You’re way more capable of taking care of yourself than the average teenager, if you even actually are one,” he said.

“Now, Baby Flash, if you can be a pint-sized superhero at eight, I can be a supervillain at seventeen. There’s no reason for you to assume I’m lying about my age,” James replied condescendingly. Kid Flash scowled.

“I’m twelve, not eight!” he exclaimed petulantly.

“Whatever. Eight or twelve, you’re still not even a teenager, so my point stands.” Hartley stared at the boy. He was only twelve?

“Doesn’t the Flash fight gangsters?” he asked.

“Yeah. Duh,” Kid Flash replied. (There were few things more insulting than having one’s intelligence called into question by a twelve-year-old in red pajamas.)

“Do you help him with that?”

“Of course! Why?”

“Because I am curious as to why in the world, if you are only twelve, the Flash allows you to fight heavily armed gang members. Isn’t that some form of child endangerment?”

“I have super speed, Hartley. No gangster could hit me. Besides, if Flash didn’t allow me to fight them, I’d just sneak out and do it on my own. I’m not gonna let being a kid stop me from taking down the bad guys!” Kid Flash replied. Hartley couldn’t help smiling. The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

“Okay, so now that you know why I’m a superhero, can we get back to the subject of how it’s a bad idea for you to run away from home?”

“I’m not running away from home. “Running away” implies that I am not coming back. I fully intend to return home. I just want to be able to live like a normal person for a few days before I go back to my life as the heir to the Rathaway empire for good,” Hartley replied. Kid Flash looked conflicted for a few seconds, and then he beamed.

“I want to keep you safe, and you want to be a normal kid for a day. So how about you and I, and Trickster, I guess, tour the city together? I can make sure that you don’t get attacked by someone and make sure that Trickster behaves himself, and you can do whatever it is that you want to do,” he said. Hartley frowned slightly. On the one hand, Kid Flash was cute and fairly amusing, and his idea had merit, but, on the other hand, his idea of independence definitely did not involve being chaperoned by a twelve-year-old. Before he could respond, however, James responded for him.

“Sorry, Baby Flash. You can’t come with us. I know that you wanna play with the big kids, but we’ll be staying out way past your bedtime,” he said. Kid Flash just smiled wider.

“Well, if I can’t come with you, I’ll have to take you back home and take the Trickster to jail,” he said. Hartley and James exchanged a look.

“All right, all right, you win,” James said quickly.

“Great! So where are we going?” Kid Flash asked.

“Somewhere my parents would never want me to go,” Hartley replied firmly.

“So, your kitchen?” James asked.

“No, not my kitchen,” Hartley said wearily. While it was true that his parents would probably have a fit if he went to the kitchen where the servants worked, he wanted to stay as far away from the Rathaway estate as possible.

“Your parents don’t allow you in the kitchen?” Kid Flash asked, obviously confused.

“Your parents let you in the kitchen?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t they?” Before Hartley could answer the question, James butted in again, something which was becoming rather irritating.

“Let me explain things to you, Baby Flash. You see, Hartley’s parents are obnoxiously wealthy, so they don’t make food for themselves. Instead, they hire people to cook for them, and, being rich snobs, they would never want their precious heir to interact with their servants and possibly-horror of horrors!-start to sympathise with them. Therefore, in order to prevent him talking to them in any meaningful way, they’ve forbidden him from going there,” he said.

“James, I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself,” Hartley said.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Hartley sighed wearily.

“Yes, you are,” he said quietly. Maybe James’ claims of being a master con artist were less exaggerated than he had thought. Mentally speaking, the self-proclaimed supervillain was running rings around both him and Kid Flash.

“The more I hear about your parents, the more I understand why you wanted to run away. Are they really that full of themselves?” Kid Flash asked, apparently stunned.

“Yes, they are. Although, to be extremely fair to them, I really don’t know if they’re any worse than anyone else in high society. From what I’ve seen at my parents’ soirees, arrogance and a lack of basic human decency towards the hired help are endemic amongst the extremely wealthy. And I am not running away,” Hartley replied quietly.

“Endemic?” Kid Flash asked, sounding confused.

“Very common,” Hartley emended. He’d forgotten that the person to whom he was speaking was a twelve-year-old who had been denied the advantage of what his father called a classical education, which, as far as Hartley could tell, mainly meant learning how to speak and read Spanish, French, German, Italian, Mandarian Chinese, Latin, and Japanese, how to travel, how to ride horses, and how to become a pretentious snob.

“Oh. Yuck,” Kid Flash replied.

"We could go to Hawaii," James suggested.

"I've already been there. Um, four times," Hartley said.

"I haven't," James replied.

"Trickster, the only reason you're even getting to come along is because I want to keep an eye on you for the Flash. If Hartley doesn't want to go to Hawaii, then we're not going to Hawaii," Kid Flash said.

"Spoilsport. How about Las Vegas?"

"No way. Uncle Ba-I mean, the Flash, whose secret identity I definitely don't know- says that Las Vegas isn't appropriate for kids," Kid Flash replied.

"Besides, I've already been there, too. Twice," Hartley added.

"You two are tough customers. All right, how about England? We could ride that giant Ferris Wheel and visit Buckingham Palace and see that place where people's heads got chopped off!"

"I've-" Hartley began.

"You've already been there. I know! How many times, Richy Rich?" James snapped. Hartley flushed.

"Um, six," he mumbled.

"Be quiet and let Hartley decide, Trickster!" Kid Flash exclaimed.

"Okay, okay, I'll let Richy Rich decide for himself. You don't have to bite my head off," James replied. He fell silent, and Hartley made his decision.

"Could you maybe take me to a park?" Hartley asked.

"A park?" Kid Flash and James echoed.

"Yes. I...I want to see what it's like to be a normal kid, and from what I've seen on TV, that's what normal kids do. Besides, my parents would never let me go to a park that normal kids use, so it fulfills my desire to go somewhere that my parents don't want me to go too," Hartley replied.

"Okay. One park, coming up!" Kid Flash exclaimed, and before Hartley could even blink, he, James, and Kid Flash were standing near a playground, one that was located in, if the sign was to be trusted, "Jay Garrick Park". Hartley expected James to start complaining about going to a park rather than Las Vegas, but instead he beamed and made a beeline for the monkey bars. Kid Flash smiled, too...and was immediately swamped by small children.

"Kid Flash!"

"Can I have your autograph?"

"How fast can you really run?"

"Is the Flash here?"

"Who's your friend?"

"Is he a superhero, too?" Kid Flash's grin widened.

"Hi, kids! I'm gonna answer your questions one at a time, okay?"

"Okay!" the children chorused.

"First, yes, you can all have my autograph." Less than five seconds later, all the children were holding autographed papers.

"Second, I can run faster than the speed of light. Flash Fact: that's 299,792,458 meters per second! At least, that's what the Flash says. Third, Flash isn't here right now, but I promise that he will come here soon. Fourth, my friend's name is Hartley. He's not a superhero, but he is very nice." Hartley smiled and waved at the children.

"Hi, Hartley!"

"Hello. It's nice to meet you," Hartley replied, and he meant it. The children dispersed soon afterwards, but Hartley didn't mind. They all thought he was just an ordinary teenager. It was kind of nice to be anonymous.

"Want us to show you how to use the playground, Richy Rich?" James yelled from his seat on top of the monkey bars. Hartley nodded.

"Absolutely. If I'm going to be a normal kid for a day, I need to learn how to act like one."

Three hours later, Hartley had mastered everything on the playground except the monkey bars, learned the names, ages, favorite colors, and life stories of six kids, and been spun so fast on the tire swing that he had vomited (Kid Flash had been a little over enthusiastic). He could also honestly say that he’d never had more fun in his life.

“I’m sorry for making you vomit,” Kid Flash said. Hartley smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve always hated this suit, anyways. It itches like you wouldn’t believe,” he said. Then his stomach growled, and he blushed.

“I guess I’m a little hungry.” James, who had been doing an extremely painful-looking

exercise routine on the bar the swings were attached to, dropped to the ground, walked over to them, and grinned.

“Me, too, Richie Rich. Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Hartley replied. He knew that neither James nor Kid Flash was likely to be

able to afford the restaurants he usually went to with his parents, and he had never tried fast food, so he didn’t know what might be to his tastes.

“I know a great Italian place,” James suggested. Kid Flash frowned at him.

“I don’t have enough money for a sit-down restaurant, and I don’t trust you enough to

believe that you wouldn’t spend stolen money,” he said. James just grinned wider.

“Money won’t be a problem, Baby Flash. My Zia-that is, my Aunt- Caternia owns the

restaurant, and she nevers charges famiglia,” he said.

“I do like Italian food,” Hartley added quietly. Kid Flash frowned.

“Well, if you’re sure….all right, give me the directions,” he said. James complied, and a

few seconds later, they were standing in front of a small but homey-looking restaurant, with a sign that read “Famiglia, Amici, e Buon Cibo”. They walked inside, and, sure enough, a woman rushed from what appeared to be the kitchen and gave James an enormous hug.

“Giovanni! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How are your cara madre and mio

fratello Alessandro?” she asked.

“Madre and Padre are doing well. Dad still talks about how much he misses his favorite

sister, but they’re glad that your business has been doing well,” James replied. His aunt beamed.

“Giovanni?” Hartley asked.

“Long story,” James replied.

“So, who are your friends, il mio piccolo piantagrane?” Hartley wasn’t surprised that

James had gotten a nickname like “little troublemaker”. He’d only known him for about 15 hours, and he’d proven capable of causing more trouble than anyone Hartley had ever met.

“The kid in the suit is named Hartley, and the boy in the red PJs is Kid Flash. Hartley, Kid

Flash, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my Zia Caternia,” James replied.

“Hi,” Kid Flash said.

“Chao,” Hartley added, glad that his lessons in Italian were proving useful for something.

“Chao, ragazzi. It’s very nice to meet you both. Are you three here for food?” James’ aunt

asked.

“Yes,” James replied. His aunt grinned again, and she led them to a table.

“This way, this way. Siediti! Rendetevi comodi-make yourselves comfortable! A waitress

will be out for you shortly,” she said. A few minutes later, a waitress promptly arrived, handed them their menus, and took their drink orders.

“I like your aunt,” Hartley said to James as he leafed through the menu.

“I like her, too. It’s too bad she has such a...a…”

“Scoundrel? Crook? Swindler? Trickster?” James suggested.

“Yeah, all of those-for a nephew,” Kid Flash said.

“Do me a favor and keep that quiet, okay? It would break her heart if she found out,”

James replied. Kid Flash nodded.

“If she’s managed not to find out by now, I’m not going to hurt her by telling her. She’s

really nice,” he said.

“Thanks, Baby Flash,” James replied, actually sounding sincere. A few minutes later, the

the waitress returned with their drinks and took their orders, Hartley deliberately going for one of the cheapest items on the menu. No matter who was paying for it, he didn’t want to cause them any financial strain. Twenty minutes of small talk, most of it revolving around teaching some Italian to Kid Flash, later, the food arrived. The three promptly dug in, and Hartley was pleased to learn that James was right-the food was delicious. As soon as they were finished eating, James’ aunt came to their table.

“Did you like the food?” she asked.

“Of course, Zia Catalina. You’re the best cook this side of Italy,” James replied, and Hartley and Kid Flash nodded their agreement. His aunt grinned.

“I’m so happy you enjoyed it! No cost for my nipote and his friends, of course,” she said.

“Are you sure, ma’am? I’ve got enough money to pay for it,” Kid Flash said.

“Grazie per l’offerta, but I’m quite sure I don’t want your money, piccolo. Making good

food for my famiglia and our friends is reward enough for me,” James’ aunt replied.

“Thanks, Zia Catalina.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kid Flash said.

“Grazie, signora,” Hartley added.

“Prego. Addio, ragazzi. Stay safe!”

“Bye, Zia Catalina!” James exclaimed. He gave his aunt one last hug, and then he, Hartley,

and Kid Flash left the restaurant...only for them to be approached by two grown men as soon as they were out of sight of the building. Kid Flash scowled, and James looked very annoyed. Hartley, for his part, felt more than a little nervous. Who were these men? One looked like he could be a movie star, with thick, wavy brown hair and broad shoulders, while the other, although tall, was also stocky and homely, and was wearing a strange set of blue sunglasses on his head.

“Hey, Trickster. Where’ve you been?” Movie Star asked casually. Hartley noticed that he

was holding a cigarette in one of his hands.

“Oh, you know...playing with toys, plotting new tricks, giving my airwalkers a good

workout...the usual,” James replied, equally casually. Movie Star pulled a lighter out of his pants pocket, lit up his cigarette, put it to his lips, and then blew out a puff of smoke.

“And what is Kid Flash doing with you, exactly?” This question, a much more abrasive

one, came from Blue Sunglasses.

“Knock, knock,” James replied. Blue Sunglasses swore, and Hartley and Kid Flash both

winced. Movie Star blew another puff of smoke.

“This ain’t the time for your stupid antics, Trickster!”

“Knock, knock!” James repeated.

“Fine. Who’s. There,” Blue Sunglasses replied flatly.

“Nonya,” James said.

“Nonya who?” Blue Sunglasses asked, clearly very irritated.

“Nonya business!” James exclaimed. Then he cracked up laughing. Blue Sunglasses glared

at him, and Hartley started backing away. This guy seemed like someone no one should want to cross; similar to his father, but with worse clothes.

“Easy, Len. No need to blow this out of proportion. Trickster does weird stuff all the time.

Him running around the city with Kid Flash for no reason is probably the least weird thing he’s done since we’ve met him,” Movie Star said calmly. Blue Sunglasses, apparently named “Len”, growled.

“It’s not the “weird” part that bothers me, Scudder. It’s the part where he’s runnin’ around

with the sidekick of our enemy! You think the Flash don’t keep track of where his sidekick is?” he exclaimed. Hartley turned to James and Kid Flash.

“Who are these two?” James sighed, and Kid Flash frowned.

“Len Snart and Sam Scudder. They're the biggest killjoys I know,” James replied.

“And they’re also Captain Cold and the Mirror Master!”

“You actually are a supervillain?” Hartley asked James. True, James was clearly far too

smart for anyone else’s good, and he had all of the fashion sense of a clown, but the fact that he was apparently on a first-name basis with two men as infamous as Captain Cold and the Mirror Master was the first definitive evidence Hartley had that James hadn’t been exaggerating his own notoriety.

“Yeah. Baby Flash and I both already told you that, Richie Rich,” James replied.

“I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Nope!”

“Honestly, I’m less curious as to why Trickster is hanging out with Kid Flash and more

curious as to who the third kid is,” Movie Star, who was apparently the Mirror Master, said.

“You’ve got a point, Scudder. That kid definitely ain’t from around here,” Captain Cold

replied. The Mirror Master blew another puff of smoke.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.

“H-Hartley.” Hartley hated to admit it, but he kind of wanted to go home now. Captain

Cold snorted.

“Hartley? What kinda name is “Hartley”?” he asked.

“I was named after my grandfather...because my father hates me. At least, that’s the only

explanation I can think of for why he gave me such an awful name,” Hartley replied. Captain Cold actually smiled (although it kind of looked like a smirk).

“I can sympathize, kid. I got stuck with the handle “Leonard Snart”, so I get how much it

sucks to have a cruddy name,” he said. At this point, Captain Cold and the Mirror Master were joined by a third man. This one was tall and lanky, with a mop of black hair, and looked as though he might be of Hispanic descent. He was also wearing a jacket over top of a green t-shirt. Kid Flash tensed up further, prompting Hartley to do the same. If Kid Flash recognized him, then the man was probably not good news.

“Why is the Trickster hanging out with Kid Flash?” the man asked. His voice was nasally

and a tad high-pitched for a fully-grown man.

“It’s the Trickster. Why does he do anything?” the Mirror Master replied.

“Point taken. But I don’t like having Kid Flash around. He’s a superhero magnet.” The man pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket.

“Look guys, I’ve got things under control. As long as Hartley here is with me, Kid Flash isn’t gonna be calling in any other superheroes,” James said.

“How do you know?” Captain Cold barked.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, Captain. Let’s just say that for once we have a common interest,” James replied. At this, the lanky man seemed to relax.

“You got a light, Sam?” he asked.

“Sure,” the Mirror Master replied. He tossed his lighter to the lanky man, who promptly lit his cigarette and started smoking. Hartley coughed. He hated cigarette smoke. Although it was generally frowned upon by his parents’ friends, there were still a few older men who were powerful enough to get away with smoking at gatherings, and he had never enjoyed having to talk to them for precisely this reason.

“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at the lanky man.

“Mark Mardon,” James replied.

“The Weather Wizard,” Kid Flash added. Hartley sighed. Of course. Another supervillain. That being said, if he survived this, he would have definite proof that he could handle himself without supervision, so maybe there was a silver lining to the situation.

“Impressed? You should be,” the Weather Wizard said. James just shook his head and smiled.

“Mark acts like he’s hot stuff, but he’s not nearly as cool as he thinks he is,” he whispered to Hartley. Hartley wasn’t sure exactly how to react to that.

“Can you actually create tornadoes?” The newspapers claimed that the Weather Wizard was capable of doing something like that, but Hartley wasn’t sure how much of that claim was based in fact and how much was exaggeration for the sake of selling papers.

“Of course. You wanna see?” the Weather Wizard replied.

“NO!” Kid Flash and Captain Cold exclaimed in unison.

“Fine. I’ll just make a rain cloud instead,” the Weather Wizard said. He pulled out what appeared to be a long metal rod, waved it, and, astonishingly, it immediately started to rain in spite of the fact that the sky had been completely blue before he’d waved the wand. He then waved the wand again, and the rain immediately stopped.

“Neat trick Mardon has, huh?” Mirror Master asked.

“Quite,” Hartley replied, still mildly stunned by what he’d just witnessed.

“You should see what I can do with my mirror tech some time.”

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you guys, but me, Baby Flash, and Richie Rich-” James began.

“Wait a minute. You said your name was Hartley. You wouldn’t happen to be Hartley Rathaway, would you?” Captain Cold asked. James, Hartley, and Kid Flash all froze nervously. The last thing Hartley wanted was for three adult supervillains to know that he was the heir to the most successful publishing company in the world, but he didn’t know how else James could explain the nickname he’d given to him. Before Hartley could react, Captain Cold pulled out his cold gun and froze Kid Flash to the ground.

“Well, well, well. I ain’t got a clue how you managed it, Trickster, but you managed to find the son of the only billionaire in Central City. What’s he doing away from home?” Cold asked.

“I...I ran away. Kind of,” Hartley replied.

“You ran away from a mansion? What kind of moron runs away from a mansion?”

“I wasn’t running away from the mansion. I was running away from my parents. They control everything about my life, and I’m sick of not being able to make my own choices,” Hartley replied.

“They also lock him in his room when he disagrees with the choices they make for him. They may be richer than Croesus, but they don’t sound like much fun,” James added.

“In that case, maybe he can help us out. If we pretend we kidnapped him, I bet his folks would pony up a lot of money to get him back,” the Weather Wizard said.

“And it would bring the Flash and the police down on our heads. No go,” Captain Cold replied. Hartley felt relieved. The last thing he wanted was to be sort-of kidnapped.

“Besides, I don’t want to go back home yet,” Hartley added, hoping that either James or Kid Flash would be able to come up with a way to enable them to escape this situation.

“Cold’s right, Mardon. Kidnapping’s too risky,” Mirror Master said.

“Are you guys crazy? The kid’s a gold mine! Isn’t that worth a little risk?” the Weather Wizard asked.

“‘The kid’ can hear you, and has no particular desire to be used as a tool in a money-making scheme. As much as I’d love to see my parents lose some money, I’m not going to be returned to their control just so you can make a profit...especially since it would put James in danger of getting in trouble,” Hartley said, sounding braver than he felt.

“Besides, I took Hartley out to give him some fun, not to have you use him in a kidnapping scheme, Marky-Mark,” James added.

“No kidnapping, Mark. That’s final,” Captain Cold barked.

“Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion,” the Weather Wizard muttered.

“See you around, James,” the Mirror Master said. With that, he, the Weather Wizard, and Captain Cold walked off, and James, Hartley, and Kid Flash all breathed a sigh of relief. Hartley never wanted to meet James’ friends again.

After the three supervillains walked away, James smiled sheepishly as Kid Flash broke the ice that Captain Cold had encased his legs in .

“Well, that was interesting,” he said.

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” Hartley replied, still stunned by the fact that he’d met three of the most infamous criminals in Central City.

“Sorry about those killjoys showing up. If I’d known my coworkers were around here, I would’ve suggested someplace else for lunch. I didn’t want them messing around with my fun any more than you and Baby Flash wanted to meet them,” James said. Kid Flash frowned.

“How can you be so calm about this? Your ‘coworkers’ could’ve put Hartley in danger!” he exclaimed. James laughed.

“Richie Rich? In danger? From those stick-in-the-muds? You’ve gotta be kidding, Baby Flash! Sam and Len would never hurt a kid!” he exclaimed.

“The Weather Wizard wanted to kidnap him!”

“No, he didn’t. He just wanted to pretend he had to get money from his parents. That’s totally different. You don’t think I’d work with someone who’d hurt kids, do you?”

“Maybe not deliberately-but Captain Cold? Weather Wizard? The Mirror Master? Those guys are bad news, Trickster. If they thought they could get money from hurting a kid without getting caught, they might do it,” Kid Flash said.

“Look, Baby Flash. I’m an excellent con artist-and that means I’m also an expert at reading people. If those guys were the type to hurt kids, I’d know. They aren’t dangerous-at least, no more dangerous than I am,” James insisted.

“In speaking of “kids”, do your...friends...know that you’re a kid?” Hartley asked.

“As far as Len’s concerned, I’m 19. The first time we worked together, he said that he thought I looked really young, and that he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t working with a kid. So I lied and said that I was an adult to make sure that he didn’t use it as an excuse to chase me off and take all the loot for himself. The other guys...I dunno. I assume they think I’m an adult, but I don’t really know. Either way, I’m not about to tell them otherwise,” James replied.

“Wait… you really are 17?”” Kid Flash asked.

“Yes. Why?” James asked.

“Because your records say you’re 19. It’s why you went to jail and not to juvie when the Flash arrested you last year,” Kid Flash replied. James looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled.

“Oh, that! I know why that happened. It’s a funny story, really-fitting of the Trickster, if I do say so myself. You see, because I grew up in a circus, my family moved around a lot, and I was born on the road. My parents called the records office to get my birth certificate, and we didn’t realize until years later that somebody had printed the month and the year wrong and had me down as being born two years and four months before I actually was. Since I was being homeschooled anyway, there wasn’t a big impetus for us to change it, so I guess we must’ve just never actually gotten around to getting it fixed.” James explained.

“You didn’t think it was strange that you were being tried as an adult at 16?” Kid Flash asked.

“Not really. I was calling myself a supervillain, after all. I figured they were trying me as an adult because of my airwalkers and my costume. I can’t believe it was because we forgot to fix my birth certificate. I tricked the legal system without even meaning to! That’s hilarious!” James exclaimed. Hartley stared at him in shock. If he had been arrested for something and then tried as an adult because of a mistake in his birth certificate, he would have been furious, but James seemed to find it amusing. He was never going to understand James. He was as just tricky to understand as his supervillain name implied he would be.

“This is awful! The Flash thinks you’re an adult! I’ve got to tell him about-” Kid Flash began. Suddenly, a red blur appeared in Hartley’s vision and solidified into someone Hartley had never expected to meet in person: the Flash himself!

“From what I’ve heard, there’s a lot you need to tell me about, Kid Flash. Let’s start with why you haven’t returned Hartley Rathaway to his parents yet. They’re worried sick about him.”

“Flash, I-” Kid Flash began.

“Aww, don’t blame Baby Flash. It wasn’t his fault,” James interrupted. Flash’s frown deepened.

“Trickster! Kidnapping is bad enough already, but if you’ve added brainwashing on top of it-” he said angrily. James just laughed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! All I said that it wasn’t Baby Flash’s fault. I never said it was mine.” “Trickster, you’re already in a serious amount of trouble. If you don’t want things to get worse, I would advise you to stop playing games.”

“Wait! Mr. Flash, it isn’t James’ fault or Kid Flash’s fault. It’s mine. James did break into my house, but it wasn’t to kidnap me. We ran into each other by accident, and I asked him to take me with him. I haven’t been kidnapped-I’m running away. Kind of,” Hartley said quickly. He didn’t want James or Kid Flash to get into trouble because of his choices.

“Running away? Why would-”

“Why would the son of the billionaire publishing magnates run away from home? Because my parents have planned out my entire life for me without ever once asking me if it’s what I want. Because they see me as defective because I was born deaf-”

“You were born deaf?” Flash and Kid Flash asked in unison.

“Yes. My parents couldn’t stand the thought of having a defective heir, so they paid billions of dollars to have me ‘fixed’...and they made sure that the news never caught wind of it. Even after they “fixed” me, though, they’ve made it clear that I’m still not good enough for them. They’ve picked my college, my major, my minor, and my future spouse without even asking me about it, and when I try to argue with them about it, my father locks me in my room and doesn’t let me out until I give in. I’m sick of being their son. I’m sick of only being loved because I’m their heir. And I’m sick of never being able to control my life! I ran away so I could get a taste of what it’s like to be a normal kid for once! All Trickster and Kid Flash did was help me do it,” Hartley explained.

“I was going to take him home when I found him, Flash, honest...but then he told me about his folks and how they’re never happy with him or each other and how they locked him in a closet on his birthday and how he just wanted to not be under their control for just one day. I...I just wanted to help him have fun,” Kid Flash added. Flash shook his head sadly.

“That explains a lot about the conversation I just had with your parents, Hartley. I thought the way they were talking about you as their heir seemed odd, but I just chalked it up to them being worried. But given what you’ve said, I can guess that it was really because they don’t care about you nearly as much as they care about what you mean for their future,” he said.

“Please don’t get mad at Kid Flash or James. Neither of them did anything bad to me. In fact, I’ve had more fun hanging out with them than I can remember having...ever,” Hartley said. He meant it, too. Despite only having known the other boys for less than a day, he already felt closer to them than he did to his own parents. The Flash gave James an odd look.

“While Hartley being a runaway does explain why you never asked for a ransom, it doesn’t explain why you decided to help him do it, nor why you continued to stick around after Kid Flash showed up. Why in the world didn’t you leave him? You weren’t making a profit off him,” he asked. A wide grin spread across James’ face.

“Because I like him. Duh. Just because I’m a supervillain doesn’t mean I can’t like someone and want to hang out with him, does it?” he replied.

“Why would an adult supervillain enjoy spending time with a sheltered teenage boy?”

“Two reasons. First, him being sheltered means he’s adorably naive, and I get a good laugh out of that. Second, I’m only a year older than Richie Rich here. There was a mix-up when my birth certificate was made, and it lists me as two years older than I actually am. My parents and I found that out a couple years back, and I guess we just never got around to fixing it. I wasn’t kidding when I told the court that I was a child at heart,” James replied. Flash’s mouth dropped open.

“You’re only seventeen?” he exclaimed.

“Chronologically, yes. Legally, no,” James replied.

“Mentally, definitely not,” Kid Flash muttered.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Hasn’t-Hit-Puberty.”

“I have too hit puberty!”

“Sure you have, Baby Flash. Sure you have.”

“Quiet!” Flash exclaimed. James and Kid Flash fell silent.

“Thank you. Why in the world didn’t you tell anyone that you were only 16 at your trial?” the Flash asked James.

“I thought they knew. I didn’t realize that we still hadn’t fixed my birth certificate until Baby Flash there told me that my record lists me as 19,” James replied.

“Is there anyone who can confirm your real age?” Flash asked.

“My parents, my nonna, my zii and zie, my cousins, the other people in the circus…” The Flash nodded and disappeared.

“Well, I don’t know what that was all about, but I think I’ll be leaving. It was great spending time with you two-especially you, Richie Rich. Don’t let your folks get you down, okay?”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Away...before I get arrested for breaking and entering. It was nice to meet you, Hartley….and hey, maybe we’ll see each other again someday. Bye!” James replied, pulling something out of his pocket as he did so. Just as Kid Flash started to move on him, he threw the thing at the ground, and it exploded in a mass of colorful glitter, smoke, and streamers. By the time everything cleared up, the Trickster was long gone.

“Darn! He got away again! I’m never gonna be able to become a superhero at this rate. This is the second time today I’ve let a villain get away!” Kid Flash exclaimed. Hartley smiled at him.

“You’re only 12. I’m sure if you keep practicing, you’ll be at least as good as the Flash by the time you’re an adult,” he said.

“You think so?” Kid Flash asked hopefully.

“I know so. You’re already incredibly fast. With a little more experience, you’ll be a formidable opponent for anyone...even someone as tricky as James,” he said.

“And I’m sure someone as kind and smart as you are will find a way to break out from under your parents’ thumb,” Kid Flash replied. Hartley personally doubted that, but after the crazy day he’d been through...who knew what might happen next. Maybe he really would be able to become his own person instead of just his parents’ puppet.

“Thanks,” Hartley said. At this point, the Flash returned.

“All right, Trickster. Your legal age now matches your biological...where’s the Trickster?”

“He got away. I’m really sorry, Flash! I tried to stop him, but-”

“No need to apologize, Kid Flash. The Trickster may be younger than I ever dreamed, but he’s been able to outsmart even me before. The fact that he was able to trick you is nothing to be ashamed of. We’ll just have to track him down later. But first, let’s get Hartley home,” Flash said. Hartley sighed.

“I suppose I’ve had my day as a normal kid. You...you can take me home,” he said quietly. His parents were going to be furious with him for doing this, but getting to know Kid Flash and James would make it all worth it.

“Hartley, I may be taking you home, but I’m not going to abandon you. I’m contacting CPS as soon as possible. What your parents are doing to you is unacceptable,” Flash said.

“Thank you, sir,” Hartley replied. He knew that CPS would take one look at the mansion and his fine clothes and his tutors and dismiss any charges of child abuse out of hand, but he appreciated the thought anyway. Kid Flash handed him a sheet of paper.

“And here’s my phone number if you need someone to talk to,” he said.

“Thank you, Kid Flash,” Hartley replied. Again, he appreciated the thought, but it was pointless. His parents would never allow him to call someone they didn’t know...especially after the stunt he had just pulled. With that, there was a rush, and Hartley found himself in the sitting room of his parents’ mansion, facing his parents, both of whom looked very upset.

“I’ve found your prodigal son, Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway. I’d advise you to think about why he went missing. In my experience, happy children don’t run away from home,” Flash said.

“What do you mean? Our heir was kidnapped by a supervillain!” Hartley’s mother asked angrily.

“No, I wasn’t. I...I ran away with him,” Hartley replied quietly. He didn’t want his parents to become angry at the Flash and risk having them ruin the superhero’s reputation.

“You did what?” Hartley’s father exclaimed.

“Your son was unhappy enough at home that he chose to run away with a juvenile delinquent-your “supervillain” is only 17 years old-just so that he could have one day to make choices for himself. You and your wife should figure out why that is. And if I find out that either of you have laid a hand on him for this...I will make sure that you face justice for it,” the Flash said. With that, he ran out of the room and had disappeared from the estate entirely in the time it took to blink. Hartley’s father scowled.

“Go to your room, Hartley. We’ll talk more about this later,” he barked. Hartley sighed, but obeyed. Time to get used to being a puppet again. As he walked to his room, he could hear his parents fuming about “the nerve of that so-called hero”. As he entered his room, he shook his head wearily, stuck his hand in his pocket..and felt something. Curious, he pulled it out to discover what looked like a wadded up napkin. He unfolded it to find what looked like a computer chip...and a note from James. Dear Richie Rich: I told you that I don’t do mind control. I don’t. It’s not funny enough, and I’ve never been able to get the hang of it. But I think you can. You’ve had the best education money can buy, so I bet you’ll be able to figure out this mind-control doohickey the Mirror Master’s been trying to perfect. Maybe it’ll help you get some control over your life. Your friend, J.J. (the Trickster). Hartley was stunned. How had James gotten this into his pocket? And how could a mind control device help him get control over his life? Even discounting the dodgy ethics behind such an idea, how would he ever be able to use it? It was just ridiculous. He set the chip on the table near his bed, picked up his flute, and began to play. Music was probably the only thing he was ever going to be able to control.

FIN

#flash rogues #fanfic #pied piper #trickster #james jesse #kid flash #flash #barry allen #wally west #rachel and osgood rathaway #dc comics #@gorogues #@swashbuckler

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maraudersandlily20 · 4 years

Text

Grimmauld Place, Number 12

He had grown significantly, he noticed as he stood alone on the platform. He felt frustrated at the fact. He knew that being 13 would eventually lead to this happening, but he was hoping he’d be a late bloomer so he could remain in his clothes for just a little bit longer. But the gap between the bottom of his pant leg and the top of his shoe was too noticeable to argue. He’d have to ask Miss Mulder for new pants. Which was the worst thing he would have to do after returning from the school year.

The woman in question was nowhere in sight. He was doing what he had always done, sitting under the platform 9 sign, atop of his trunk so as to not take up too much room. That was his way of things; making himself as small as possible, trying his best to remain out of sight. His lengthening height was beginning to make that impossible, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He checked the clock hung on the wall, the one he had glanced at too many times to count, and noticed the time was still 5:34. 34 minutes past the expected meeting time. He shook his head. Miss Mulder had forgotten him.

Again.

Meaning he’d have to find a telephone and dig for a coin, though he wasn’t sure he had one.

It was no secret that he would rather crawl into a hole than to return to the orphanage in west London. Not many of his classmates knew of his perpetual homelessness and he didn’t like to bring it up. The Headmaster had made a deal with Miss Mulder, promising that he would have food, clothing, and a roof over his head. And, her favorite part, the orphanage would pay for none of it.

When asked about his family, he always shrugged and said they lived far away. Which was true. Because they were dead. Or maybe they weren’t. They simply didn’t exist for him, not in the way that other people’s families did.

He sighed and wrapped his thin long arms around himself. He was not going to cry. Not about this. Not again.

A voice sounded in front of him, loud and boisterous, and familiar. He looked up and saw one of the Gryffindor Prefects and her best friend. They were a noticeable duo, as she had thick, bright blue hair, and they only ever signed together.

Elle, which was her name, was known for her vibrant nature and her loud voice. She was loud and funny and seemed to be capable of turning every bad situation into a joke. She was wicked smart, as was the beater on the Gryffindor team. It was also common knowledge that she signed as she spoke, making her stick out quite a bit. Everyone knew her. He knew her, but he was sure she didn’t know him.

Her best friend, Muhammad, was one of the seven Deaf wizards at Hogwarts and he excelled at everything. It was almost like they were a superhero duo, fighting prejudice and cruelty at every turn. The young boy looked up to them immensely, hoping that one day he’d be able to feel as secure and brave as they were.

He must have looked quite a sight, huddled on his trunk, waiting for Miss Mulder. He should have known he’d draw attention. Elle’s eyes locked on him and her curiosity was clear on her face. She signed something to Muhammad and the two of them made their way over to him. “Hello there. Wells, right?”

Wells looked up in surprise. She knew his name? He wasn’t even in her house.

“Uh... yeah.” He said softly.

Elle smiled and looked over at Muhammad as he signed something quickly. She nodded, acknowledging Muhammad’s question with a noise of agreement before turning back to look at Wells. “I’m Elle and this is Muhammad. Are you waiting for someone?”

Wells nodded.

“Your parents?”

Wells shook his head.

Muhammad’s eyebrows rose and he made a gesture to Elle who shrugged. The older boy reached his hand down and helped Wells to his feet. He signed something to him, and Elle quickly supplied his voice. “He’s asking who you’re waiting for.”

Wells cleared his throat. “The... uh... the woman from the orphanage. She should be here soon.”

A look of surprise passed between the two teenagers quickly.

“Is she late?”

Wells nodded. “She usually is. This isn’t the first time I’ve been forgotten here. I’ll probably head over to the payphone in a bit, I was just... debating on if I had a spare coin or if I would have to ask someone.”

He looked up and saw the quick, flurried movements of sign language between the two before him. He could hardly guess what they were saying to each other before Elle turned to him. “Does McGonagall know?” He nodded.

Muhammad rolled his eyes and signed at Elle again, gesturing vaguely to Wells. Elle laughed and shrugged before turning back to the young boy.

“Wells, would you like to come and spend the summer with us?”

He perked up immediately, his eyes glimmering with hope at the proposition. “Really?” It seemed almost too good to be true, but he had never known Elle or Muhammad to be cruel. “I could do that?”

“Yeah, of course. Our ride is on their way and we can always write or call the woman at the orphanage and let her know you’ve come with us for the summer. It’s no worries. We always have the room.”

“At your house, you mean?”

“Well... Not exactly.” Muhammad and Elle smiled consqiratorally at each other. “Come on,” Elle encouraged, picking up his trunk from the ground and ushering the boys out into the stale sunshine leftover from the sun that was setting in the west.

To Wells’ surprise, there was a large group of Hogwarts students, kids he recognized, of all ages standing in a big circle and talking quickly to each other. They had all changed from their robes into normal clothes, showing off a variety of personalities amongst themselves. Wells recognized members of every house standing around, looking kind of what he imagined a family would look like. Their luggage was strewn about them and almost all of their animals were softly snoozing.

He wasn’t sure what to make of them.

Cassie, his head of house in Hufflepuff, lit up when she saw him. “Wells! Hello! I didn’t know you were coming. Are you planning to spend the summer with us?”

“I suppose,” he said softly. “Wait, you mean... all of you spend the summer together?”

Devin, an older slytherin boy, laughed before throwing his arm around Cassie. “Yeah, it’s like Hogwarts 2.0 here. Except without a dress code and you don’t have to do homework.”

“Not like you’re good in either place,” Alfie countered, a Ravenclaw with strange tattoos running up his arm of all shapes and sizes.

Elle rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around Muhammad’s neck. “You don’t have to be good at school to stay with us. I mean, Devin is clear proof of that.”

Muhammad giggled and signed his agreement, which made everyone around them laugh, despite Devin’s protesting.

Wells cleared his throat, trying to draw attention to himself again. He still didn’t know what was happening. “Where is it, exactly, that we’re staying?”

As he spoke, a large white van pulled up along the curb and honked at the kids. They all jumped or laughed in surprise. The bus was simple and old, with the words “For the homeless and helpless, but not the faint of heart.” The writing looked as if it had been spray painted on. There was rust on the corners of the van, suggesting its true age. A few of the boys moved forward and gave the bus an affectionate pat. Wells felt a wave of confusion come over him and one of the students pulled up what looked like a secret compartment and began shoving trunks and animals in, one after the other. Someone gestured for him to push his trunk over, and he did so with a bit of trepidation. When his luggage was safely tucked away, Elle came up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the front of the bus.

Muhammad was signing with one of the older girls, but he was pointing to the front of the bus in an exaggerated manner. She was laughing loudly, and called out, “Here comes the hero of the wizarding world!” And, to Wells’ amazement, from the driverseat of the car, came the legendary Harry Potter. The actual boy you lived.

“Woah,” Wells whispered quietly, starstruck. Muhammad noted his awe and grinned, rubbing his head affectionately.

“You know,” Harry Potter said, with a kind look in his eyes, “I was hoping to never have to see you lot again.” He was met with laughs and greetings from every side as the kids entered the big van. They filed in, one after the other, fifteen or sixteen different kids, a jumble that no one at school would have expected to get along, let alone spend the entire summer together.

Elle wrapped a supportive arm around Wells’ shoulder as they came to the door of the van. Harry looked curiously at Elle and Muhammad, signing quickly in question.

“Harry, this is Wells. The woman from the orphanage seems to be a little late in picking him up. So Muhammad and I thought maybe there’d be some room with us.”

Harry smiled “Of course. There’s always room. Come on in Wells.”

Wells grinned, feeling his heart soar and the expression of acceptance. He settled into the bus, finding a seat near the back. He gazed at the people around him, and wondered where they were going.

“WELLS!” A voice screeched beside him. He jumped and saw a Gryffindor girl named Gene who was in his year that he had spoken to quite a few times, sitting a few seats away in their history course. “I can’t believe you’re coming with us! If I had known you needed a place to stay, I would have told you about it weeks ago.”

“It’s alright,” Wells murmured. “It was a last minute decision anyway. Also, where is it exactly that we’re going?”

“Oh,” Elle suddenly appeared, her face above the bench in front of him. “I forgot to actually tell you. We all live, in the summer, in Harry’s place.”

“In his house?” Wells asked, startled.

“No, no.” This response came from Cassie. “Harry has multiple properties, of course. The advantage of being rich. We just stay at one of them.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Harry said, sliding back in behind the wheel. “You make it sound like I’m some wealthy benefactor, taking you all in from the goodness of my heart.”

“Is that not what you are, Mr. Harry Potter sir?” Devin replied sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know, Devin, I keep hoping that you’ll come back from school less of a prat, but it seems you’re just getting worse and worse.”

“I have permission,” Devin countered. “Your husband said I could.”

This sent a wave of confusion over Wells. A husband? Harry Potter had a husband? He knew that he didn’t receive much news from the wizarding world, but he doubted that no one would have talked about it at school.

“Future husband, Devin. And he has no power over you, so please disregard everything he says.”

“I’ll pass,” Devin said, crossing his arms and ignoring Cassie as she smacked him upside the head.

“It’s called Grimmauld Place,” Elle informed Wells, steering the conversation back to Wells’ question. “It belongs to Harry, and he lets us stay there over the summer. Most of us don’t have anywhere else to go. But some, like Cassie or Gene don’t have safe homes to go back to over the summer.”

“It’s better for us with Harry,” Cassie said, smiling.

“And there’s room for all of us?” Wells clarified, sounding unsure.

“Grimmauld Place belonged to my Godfather, before he died. He left it, and all of his possessions, to me. But luckily, the house in and of itself, is full of magic. With some little adjustments to the rooms, we’ve been able to expand.” Harry said.

It seemed too good to be true, but Wells decided to wait and see what they meant when they got there. The ride was brief but full of loud happy chatter, which was a pleasant surprise considering how the orphanage often was. Finally, after what could have been no more than 40 minutes, the van pulled in front of a complex of apartments. His fellow students filed out of the van and began pulling their luggage from the compartment. When everyone had settled and gotten their possessions in order, Harry stepped forward and raised his wand in front of him. With a whisper and a wave, Wells watched with awe as the building seemed to split apart, forcing a new section of building to the light. And suddenly, there was a new section of house that had been hidden with magic.

The group of teenagers walked toward the door, hauling their luggage and animals with them, discussing what they wanted to do first and how rooms were being sorted. Wells stayed behind, unsure of himself and where he should go.

Muhammad tapped his shoulder and gestured him forward, but Wells shook his head and motioned for the older boy to go first. Muhammad looked behind him and shrugged before entering into the house.

“You know,” a soft voice said from behind him, “I get what you’re feeling.” Wells looked up and met the green eyes of Harry Potter, a person he never expected to talk to, let alone meet at all.

“What do you mean?”

“I remember the feeling of leaving Hogwarts after my first year. Well, and every year, to be honest. I felt lost and alone, worried about the home I was going back to. I hated summer break. I wanted to stay at Hogwarts year round.”

“Really?” Wells asked, his eyes wide. “That’s how I feel!”

Harry nodded. “I dedicated Grimmauld Place as a place for children like me, and you. Children without good places to go to, without safe families to return to. And it isn’t perfect, I know that. It takes a lot of work and dedication, but if I can make someone, anyone, feel a little more safe during the summer, then I want to try. That includes you, if you want.”

“But why? Why me? I have a place to stay.”

There was a pause as Harry buried his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know, Wells. And if you want to go back there, you can. I won’t make you stay. But I promise, if you do decide to stay, that this house will be a safe haven for you. You never have to be scared of going hungry, of being cold, or being abandoned ever again.” He smiled. “If you want.”

Wells looked up at the house, watching as lights flickered on as the students found their places to stay and settled into their rooms.

“Also, you get your own room. If that influences your decision at all.”

Wells laughed. He couldn’t help himself as he was filled with excitement he had never experienced and he launched himself at the older man. Harry stepped back in surprise, attempting to catch Wells with whatever balance he could muster, before chuckling and wrapping him up in a warm embrace. Wells felt, for the first time, like he was home.

The door opened behind them.

“Darling, what’s taking you so long?”

Harry released Wells and they turned toward the front door where a tall, thin man was standing. His hair was pale blonde and his skin was nicely tan in places, suggesting he spent a great deal out of doors. He was incredibly handsome, Wells noticed. But the kind of handsome that seemed effortless. He was wearing kakhis and a dark blue shirt that brought out the vibrancy of his eyes. Wells assumed that this was the “future husband” everyone had been discussing earlier.

“Sorry love. I was just trying to convince Wells here that this is a good place to stay.” Harry called. Wells watched his face light up, the signs of love clear in his expression. He started moving toward the nameless man and Wells watched as he wrapped his arms around him and placed a kiss on his lips. Wells felt, for a moment, overwhelmed at the simple display of affection. Affection was not something we was used to seeing in adults.

The man blushed and swatted at him before turning to Wells. “So, Wells? Was he successful?”

Wells looked up again at the house that he hoped to call his home from now on whenever he returned from Hogwarts. He felt safe, accepted, and most importantly, wanted. And that was something he was unfamiliar with.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stay.”

The two men grinned in unison and the blonde men stepped down and picked up Wells’ trunk by its handle. “Well then, I’m Draco. Harry’s fiance. Welcome to Grimmauld place. I have just the room for you.”

And Wells didn’t hesitate to follow.

#my writing #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry

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serenlyss · 5 years

Note

.41 ritshou

Thanks for the prompt! This ended up being a little more than a drabble haha but I had fun with it! This also turned into a Ritsu’s birthday fic so happy late birthday Ritsu!

—

Ritsu draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, leaning forward to rest his chin atop them. It’s not a very comfortable position, especially considering the fact that he’s currently perched on the roof of his house, on a hard incline with nothing much keeping him from sliding down to the edge except for friction, but he does it anyway, because it makes him feel like his heart isn’t beating as fast or hard as it actually is and like he isn’t on the verge of a mental breakdown.

The night had started out fine. Ritsu hasn’t had a birthday party in a few years now, but all of a sudden he has people around him that he actually wants to celebrate with, people that want to celebrate with him. So why does he suddenly feel like the world is ending? Under his feet, he can faintly hear music playing as the party goes on without him.

The night had started out fine, but two hours in he’d looked around and realized that nearly half of the faces all around him were almost entirely unfamiliar. Classmates and club members, the student council, members of his old soccer team… he knows them all by name, but he doesn’t actually know them. He isn’t even sure if he can call them friends. Even Kamuro had been there, which had caused him to feel overwhelmed in a whole different way. He’d looked around and hadn’t see any sign of Shou or Shigeo or Teru, the people he’d actually wanted to be there, and suddenly it was like he’d been dunked underwater, the sensation stealing his breath from his lungs and making every step feel like the air itself had been resisting him.

He’d excused himself with perfect politeness, not an inch of his inner feelings allowed to be seen on his face, and made his way upstairs. He’d hardly even hesitated to throw open his window and climb outside, clambering up onto the rooftop where he now sits, wondering why in hell he’d thought throwing a party had been a good idea. He digs his fingers into the denim of his jeans and exhales, his breath colder than the July air outside.

“So this is where you ran off to!”

Ritsu doesn’t mean to flinch, but he does anyway, his body twitching involuntarily in response to the voice that he recognizes instantly as Shou’s. His friend pulls himself up fluidly onto the rooftop beside him and leans forward until his face is in Ritsu’s periphery, all bright red hair and pale, freckled skin and glinting white teeth in the darkness. His light blue eyes reflect the dim yellow street lights below them as he meets Ritsu’s gaze, legs sprawling out in front of him as he settles himself down at Ritsu’s side.

“What’s up? The party’s downstairs, you know,” Shou asks with all his regular flippancy and charisma, the words coming across entirely casual despite their deeper implications.

Ritsu waits a half-second before he replies, “Just getting some air. Did Shige send you?” He has a feeling that his brother, ever so sharp-eyed and intuitive nowadays, had been the first to notice his absence. He wonders if anyone else had, or if they’d been deaf to his presence to begin with.

Shou shakes his head and moves his face out of Ritsu’s line of sight, leaning back against the roof with his hands behind his head. Ritsu lifts his own head and lets his gaze follow him. “Nah, I came to find you when I got out of the bathroom and saw you were gone. It’s your party, you know, you should be there for it,” he replies. Shou’s calm demeanor has an area of effect on Ritsu, whose shoulders sink a little lower as he listens.

“I guess,” Ritsu murmurs, but even if he knows the party is technically for him, it doesn’t feel like it belongs to him anymore.

Shou’s smile falters at this, a hint of concern comes to his face. He props himself up on his elbows, turning to give Ritsu his full attention. “You alright?” he asks. “You look sad, did something happen? You can tell me, you know.”

I look sad? Ritsu echoes in his mind, blinking. That can’t be right. Ritsu is very careful to keep his thoughts to himself, and his expressions are always carefully under wraps. Not even his family can tell when he’s feeling sad, most of the time, though he has a feeling Shigeo sees more than he lets on. Ritsu opens his mouth to produce a scripted response: I’m fine, just a little tired. I ate too much cake and have a stomachache. I was taking a phone call before you showed up. Instead, the words that come out of his mouth are, “There were too many people.”

Shou doesn’t respond right away, which is weird enough in its own way. When he glances in Shou’s direction again, he finds wide blue eyes staring back at him, flashes of recognition and sympathy behind clear, unhidden surprise. “Really? You invited them, though, didn’t you?”

“Some of them,” Ritsu mumbles in response. He sighs softly against his knees and finally lets his body unravel, feet sliding down the tiled surface of the roof as his head and torso lean back against the roof beside Shou. He tucks his arms close against his sides and clasps his hands over his stomach, and feels a warm summer breeze blow his bangs out of his face and to the side. “My parents invited some of them, too, but they’re… all people I know.”

“Well then, you know a lot of people,” Shou says simply, wiggling his legs against the uneven roof’s surface in search of a more comfortable position.

He’s barefoot, Ritsu realizes, having ditched his shoes somewhere along the way. For some reason it makes Ritsu want to smile; Shou never had cared much for manners or rules, and his rebellious spirit feels so, so refreshing when Ritsu is confronted by his own “good child” demeanor. He hums quietly. “I guess so,” he responds with a shrug of his shoulders, sinking just a little deeper into the roof as he breathes steadily and lets his wound-up limbs relax.

Shou, to his credit, looks perfectly at home, sprawled out on the rooftop with no shoes on. He isn’t wearing a jacket, either, but it’s warm enough out that the breeze doesn’t make him shiver. “Well, you may not know them all that well now, but there’s still time,” Shou points out, after a minute or so of silence has passed between them. “I know you have, like, a persona or whatever, but it doesn’t have to be like that forever. You can talk to them like normal people.”

“I guess that makes you a “normal person”?” Ritsu retorts, but it’s humorous rather than hostile. A faint smile blooms on his face as he tilts his head to the side to look at Shou.

Shou laughs, a quiet, private laugh meant only for him, one that’s so different from his usual boisterous guffaws that it nearly gives Ritsu whiplash every time he hears it. “Normal is relative,” he shoots back, and it feels like a weight is lifted.

Of course Shou’s answer to his dilemma would be simple, his solutions usually are. And, to Ritsu’s surprise, his solutions are usually good, too. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he promises.

Shou shoots him a grin, then sits up with a start. “Oh, that reminds me! I was gonna wait until everyone else went home to do this, but I think now is as good a time as any,” he babbles, reaching for his discarded bag and rifling through it for a moment. He fishes out a wrapped package, one with a little white bow stuck to the top of it, and holds it out to Ritsu. “I got you something. Y’know, like a birthday present.”

Ritsu had accepted more than a dozen gifts throughout the night from many of his guests, some of which he was excited to open, and some of which he’d known immediately would have very little sentimental value, but something about this moment, sitting on the roof of his house in the middle of a summer’s night next to the best friend he’s probably ever had, sends Ritsu’s heart racing all over again. He reaches out and accepts the gift, hears the cheap convenience store wrapping paper crinkle under his fingers, and wonders how much thought Shou had put into picking something out just for him. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “Can I open it?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

Ritsu picks at the wrapping paper carefully at first, as though it was necessary to preserve rather than destroy it, and only remembers that wrapping paper is meant to be ripped to pieces when Shou groans and tells him to hurry up already, you’re killing me! And so he smirks and does as he’s told, digging his fingers into the colorful paper and tearing it off in one smooth motion until he can finally tell when the gift in his hands is.

It’s a notebook, one with a hard cover wrapped in a strong, soft material. It feels almost felted under his fingers as he runs them briefly over the cover. When he pulls the cover open, he sees that it’s swiss bound, each page designed to lay perfectly flat no matter what part of the book he turns to. It’s nice, really nice, way nicer than the spiral-bound notebook Ritsu uses for his math homework.

“You’re always ripping out pages of your book to write ideas down on,” Shou says, sitting up so he can lean over Ritsu’s shoulder to look down at the notebook, “but then they end up getting lost or crumpled up at the bottom of your backpack. I thought if you had a book you could use specifically for jotting down your ideas and stuff, you’d be less likely to lose them at the bottom of your backpack or misplace them.” He taps his finger on one college-ruled page, reaching around Ritsu’s shoulder to do so. “What do you think?”

Ritsu is, quite frankly, speechless. Shou doesn’t often show himself to be a very emotionally mature person–neither is Ritsu, in that regard–but the gift undeniably has a lot of thought put into it, something Shou might have heard Ritsu complain about at one point and filed away for future use. “Thank you,” he says again, for lack of better words, “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” Shou says with a grin, pushing himself to his feet. He fiddles with the edge of his t-shirt, moving it back into place after laying down had rumpled it a little, and then he reaches out a hand to Ritsu. “C’mon, we should head back inside before your brother comes looking for us.”

Ah, right. Ritsu had nearly forgotten about the party still happening in the house underneath them. “Yeah, we should,” he agrees, and accepts Shou’s outstretched hand.

#ritshou #kageyama ritsu #suzuki shou #serendipitousfics #drabble request #Anonymous #lyssa's asks

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jhara-ivez · 5 years

Text

In-Character Interview

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same. I got tagged by @essythewolf thx :D Tagging @the-r3d-painter @iamaweretoad @nuka-zombie @annoyed-galaxy and @chennington

The weather was enjoyable. I stood near a warehouse at the harbour waiting for the man I wanted to interview this afternoon. Although we agreed on a specific time he didn't show up. Not exactly nice - but since it already took 50 pennies for him to acknowledge me at all I was willing to wait a little longer. Time went by. At least one hour I watched the ships, the glittering sea and the hustle and bustle of the dock workers. And just as I was tempted to call it quits and abort the whole project he appeared at the other end of the harbour basin with another man following close behind. Naturally I started with asking him why he was late. His answer was that he has no feel for time. Curious, I began my interrogation.

1. What is your name?

“Jhara.”

2. Do you know why you are named that?

“...No.”

3. Are you single or taken?

“Odd thing to ask a stranger, don't you think?"

4. Have any abilities or powers?

(He finally made eye contact with me.) "Yes. Actually I do have some.... since "the incident"."

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

(He just stared at me incomprehensively. I decided to change the topic.)

6. What’s your eye color?

(Still staring.)

7. How about your hair color?

"Are you blind? If not - thank the dead divines that I am me and not you." (I decided to change the topic again.)

8. Have any family members?

“I have a brother.”

9. Oh? How about pets?

"No." (The other man coughed in a suspicious manner. I didnt get the joke.)

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?

"... Cold, being hungry, spiders, confined spaces... stuff like that."

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies you like to do?

"I like walking, running... hunting too. As long as I can move it's good."

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

“...Maybe?”

13. Ever…killed anyone before?

“...”

(He just stared at me again. To be honest I didn't dare to break the eye contact)

14. What kind of animal are you?

"I could show y-" (The other man pinched Jhara’s arm. Whatever his face signaled - my interview partner picked up on it immidiately .) "Or not. But trust me, it's to die for."

15. Name your worst habits?

“I have no bad habits............................... Alright, ...maybe I'm a bit... fidgety at times." (Another cough.) "I'm hyperactive 24/7. I'm reckless, jumpy, and I always want the last word in a conversation. Also I cheat a lot, which is totally not true." (He glared at the other man.)

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

"Do I look like I do...?"

17. Are you gay, straight, or bisexual?

“Ah, now I see what the last question aimed at... But seriously, that's none of your fucking business.”

18. Do you go to school?

“No.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“No. I don't like to be chain to someone.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

(Again he looked at me incomprehensively.)

21. What are you most afraid of?

“I don't answer that."

22. What do you usually wear?

“Whatever is practical. I move a lot so... ”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Fresh human flesh is nice."

24. Am I annoying to you?

“Yes. Actually.”

25. “Well, it’s still not over!”

“Whatever you say. But better hurry up a bit. You're on thin ice already, you don't want to make it worse, now do you.”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

“I’m a king.”

27. How many friends do you have?

“Enough.”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“It's food.”

29. Favorite drink?

“Mead is good. But you should totally try out the local beer. It's delicious.”

30. What’s your favorite place?

“Wherever he is.” (He nodded to the other man.)

31. Are you interested in anyone?

"Okay, you really are blind. Maybe deaf too. I wonder how you survived all these years." 32. That was a stupid question…

"Indeed."

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

"Since the ganga are more aggressive in lakes I prefer the ocean." (*I had to look up the word. It basically means 'crab'.)

34. What’s your type?

“.... You do know that you're jumping from topic to topic, right?”

35. Any fetishes?

“Hm. Actually my favorite is really funny. I stitch a piece of fur to incompetent people's necks, grant them a short lead and then play catch with them in the heartland. You don't want to try it out at some point, do you?”

36. Camping or outdoors?

"I take that as a 'yes'~"

#jhara #oc ask #interview #i had my problems with writing this #but here we are

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dyaz-stories · 5 years

Text

The Maid and the Bodyguard �� Chapter nine

First — Previous — Next — Also available on fanfiction.net

Summary: Inuyasha is princess Kikyo’s bodyguard, but one day, he fails to his duty and the princess is abducted. Kagome is a maidservant who works in the castle, and who has had an interest in Inuyasha for a long time. They are sent together to retrieve the Princess. On their way there, things may become a lot more complicated than they had anticipated. AU, Inukag.

After the incident with the monk at the inn, Inuyasha and Kagome seemed to settle in a comfortable routine. They would travel all day, though Inuyasha now didn't complain when Kagome asked to stop to eat. Well, maybe he did complain a little, but he still stopped immediately, and she appreciated that, though she wasn't sure why he felt the need to act that annoyed. She knew they needed to save the princess, that they were in a hurry, but she still had, like, basic needs.

They talked a little while they travelled, or at dinner. Not much, because Kagome didn't dare asking about Inuyasha's childhood — she could only guess how sensitive that was, and she didn't want to go back to awkward silence. She got him to open up, a little, on some good memories, mostly about his mom, who was apparently human. He never mentioned the bad stuff, but she could see it on his face, in the way he frowned and his eyes became distant. She didn't think he even noticed it, and she made sure to leave him to his memories, not feeling yet that it would be okay to ask him about it.

Inuyasha actually got more involved in her past, and she was more than happy to share with him. He had freaked out quite a bit when she had teared up talking about her family, and she had chuckled at his reaction, embarrassed.

"I'm okay. It's just… I haven't seen them in a very long time. I miss them. And, well, papa and grandpa… I won't see them again."

He'd mumbled something, but after that, she'd noticed him being extra careful when he talked about that stuff.

That gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand, she appreciated that he was being considerate of her, but at the same time, she did want to tell him that there was no need for that. Yes, she got sad, she cried… But it was all normal. She had lost people who were very important to her, some permanently. It was okay to cry when you were hurt.

She thought it had to do with him more than with her. That he couldn't let himself think like that, because he couldn't handle his pain like that. He could only try to shut it all out and ignore it.

She wasn't completely right. Sure, that was part of it, and then there was all that thing that Inuyasha couldn't let himself be weak in any way, something she still understood. She didn't realize how much his weakness and his pain would have been taken advantage of in the past if he hadn't succeeded in shutting it all out, though.

And she certainly didn't realize that he also didn't want to make her cry.

It had hit him with such strength that he had almost started to shake when he'd smelt her salty tears. He didn't know where that organic reaction came from, but suddenly he wanted to be near her, to hold her, to wipe the tears away, to… To make sure she'd never cry again.

Instead, he had just tensed awkwardly, vaguely making a gesture to touch her in a comforting manner before letting his arm fall back down while clearing his throat.

"You okay?" he had asked, his voice rougher than usual, and definitely rougher than he'd wanted to make it sound — but he didn't think she had picked up on it.

She had smiled softly, chuckling a little, and that had almost crushed him. She had nodded, given him an explanation, and all he could think about what how sad she looked. He knew there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't bring her grandfather and her father back, but thinking that he was playing a part in keeping her away from the rest of her family did make him feel uneasy.

No, that was a fucking understatement.

It made him feel terrible.

Kagome had nothing to with this. Nothing to do with Kikyo, nothing to do with the old had — ahem, queen Kaede —, and in the end, nothing to do with him. Yet, she was stuck here with the promise of getting money at the end of their journey, once they'd brought Kikyo back. That was, if Kagome made it back too.

If she didn't… He'd be the one who'd have to make her trade places and, truth be told, he was less and less sure he'd be capable to do it.

He'd have to though.

He wasn't like Kaede, or even like Kikyo. He didn't care much about what would happen to the country if there wasn't an heir, didn't care if there was a succession war. Those humans meant nothing to him, and Inuyasha didn't like nor care for more people. All he cared about was Kikyo. She'd saved his life, she had been there for him when no one else had. Even she hadn't been the only person who had been nice to him in years, he would owe it to her.

He wasn't stupid, nor deaf. He knew what people said. He could stand the ones who talked about pity, but some of them had implied there was… a relationship of another nature between the princess and him.

That, he couldn't stand. Kikyo's reputation shouldn't be damaged by that. Kikyo was untouchable, and he hated that something like that now tainted her. It was all false, of course, and even though there were moments when he'd wondered what their relationship was — a moment when their eyes met, their hands touching briefly… — he knew that there was no way anything like that could take place between them.

Because she was a princess, and he was a lowly half-breed.

He knew it.

That was just one more reason why he should sacrifice Kagome.

He thought about it at night a lot, when she was asleep. He kept sitting right next to her, and although he would never have told her, it had a lot to do with how much he enjoyed her scent. Maybe it also had something to do with the way her dark hair fell on the pillow when she was asleep, making him want to run his fingers through it, or…

Nah, definitely not.

They travelled for about a week, crossing a big part of the country, taking rare breaks. Inuyasha let Kagome rest longer than was absolutely necessary now. Not that he wanted to slow them down, but because he didn't want her to exhaust herself. It was crazy how he wouldn't have cared just days ago, and now he did what he could to keep her safe. In a very imperfect way, sure, but dammit, it was all he could do.

"We're getting closer to demon territory," he warned her, his voice strained, as he made them stop for the night. "Gotta be careful. Lots of bandits 'round here."

Kagome nodded, getting off of the horse, the movement getting easier every time. In those far territories, there weren't that many soldiers any more, but she wasn't too sure why Inuyasha warned her about the bandits instead of, well, the demons.

"It makes me wonder," she commented while tying the horse to a tree and starting to prepare dinner for the both of them, "we've been on the road for quite some time, right?"

"What, you can't count?"

She shot him a dark glance, and couldn't help the loop her heart made in her chest when she saw he was smirking.

That was something he did a lot more now — smirk. Not that many true smiles, sure, but… But it was something.

And she was the one who made him smile.

Did he smile for the princess too? She wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

She cleared her throat and resumed to her thinking. "But the demons sent a ransom note for Kikyo very quickly. How did they manage to cover all that in such a short time?"

Inuyasha frowned and sat down next to her, watching her precise movements with more interest than needed. "Yeah, 's been on my mind too," he admitted. "Could be a teleportation thing. It's rare, but I've heard of some demons who have that. 't would explain why I didn't smell them coming. It could also just be that they can fly — that'd be a lot faster than walking. Also, they probably didn't need to stop for the night." He glanced at her intently and she ignored him, which made him smile again, in a softer way this time, knowing she wasn't watching him.

That being said, for the smell thing, he was pretty sure there was something else. Probably a barrier, too, but… Since when could demons have that many powers? Usually they had one big power, not all at the same time.

There was definitely something fishy here.

"Have you met demons?" Kagome asked, her voice extremely careful as she handed him some meat. "I know your mom was human, but…"

She let the question unfinished, afraid she had already pushed too far, waiting to him to choose whether or not he wanted to answer her. He stared at the flames for a few seconds, before opening his mouth.

"My brother. Pureblood demon. First class asshole."

He spat every word with a growing disgust, his fists clenching in anger. Their encounter had been years ago now, before he'd met Kikyo and shortly after his mom's death, but he didn't think that was something he'd ever be able to forgive nor forget.

The way he had called him a bastard, said he was the shame of the family, that he should probably just kill him right there and then, and probably worst, how he'd talked about his mother… To this day, it still drove him insane.

To this day, the rejection by a member of his own family was still one of his worst memories. The man — Sesshomaru — had been his hope.

When his mother had known she was dying, she had insisted her and her son started travelling towards the demon territories. She thought his demon family would accept him at least. Inuyasha already knew very well back then that his human one wouldn't, so he clung onto that hope.

Even when his mother, even more exhausted by the journey, died unexpectedly and he was left alone by the people who were accompanying them. Even as he crossed the remaining human lands alone, starving, at night, doing everything in his power not to be seen.

Hope was such a fucked-up thing.

"Demons are no better than humans when it comes to half-demons," he concluded dejectedly.

It had been a long time since he'd last thought of that. It was one of those things that still hurt him.

He felt a weight on his shoulder, and froze when he realized it was Kagome's head.

He should have pushed her away, he should have complained, asked her what the fuck she thought she was doing.

He didn't.

Nor when she reached into his lap for his hand and squeezed it softly.

She didn't know what to say, what to begin with. She could almost feel how hurt he was. Every time she thought she was starting to understand him, she discovered another part of his past that made her realize how worst it was than what she had thought initially. She wanted to say that she was sorry, apologize on behalf of the entire human race — and of the entire world as well — but she knew that wouldn't mean anything to him.

She just wanted to let him know that she was there now. By his side. Willing to do for him, with him, those things that no one had accepted before.

Inuyasha closed his eyes briefly, way too conscious of the way her body touched his arm, of her warmth that ran through him and… Why did his palms feel so sweaty all of a sudden? He'd never had that problem before!

It was all her fault, and yet… Yet he couldn't bring himself to push her away from him. If this was bad, some kind of illness or whatever, he would gladly welcome it for longer. Sure, it was weird, but at the same time, there was something delicious in it.

He glanced down at her. He couldn't see her face, but he could picture it clearly. Her blue eyes, her rosy cheeks, maybe a small smile on her lips… Maybe they were slightly parted, like they were waiting for a k—

He cleared his throat and practically jumped up, startling Kagome.

"In—"

"Time for sleep," he muttered, keeping his back turned to her so she wouldn't see the color of his cheeks. "Otherwise, you're gonna complain all day tomorrow that you're too tired and all that shit."

Kagome rolled her eyes, but she knew the moment was gone. Her hand felt weirdly empty without his in it, and she rubbed the arm that had been touching his softly as his warmth vanished.

"Well I'm sure I'll find something to complain about anyway," she retorted with an acid tone. "Like my rude travel partner or something."

She huffed and soon, she was under her blanket, mumbling something about being a dick.

Once again, it made him smile. Because there was nothing mean-spirited in that, because she didn't mean it, because she wasn't terrified of him, and that never happened.

Just for that, he wanted to protect her forever, but his life wasn't his to give. So he'd have to settle for the now.

He sat down not too far away from her, and kept watching her until he fell asleep.

Kagome jumped up when she felt a hand shake her shoulder roughly, and blinked in confusion when she saw Inuyasha. It was still dark though — maybe really early in the morning — and she felt herself yawning immediately.

"Inuyasha, what…"

"Get up," he ordered through gritted teeth.

"But…"

"Fucking now!" he hissed.

Kagome frowned but did as he said. There was an unusual urgency in his voice, but also in the way he touched her as he helped her get up.

"Now what…"

Next thing she knew, she was holding back from screaming as Inuyasha started jumping through the forest without a warning. She desperately held onto his shoulders, although she realized the arm he had snuck around her waist was keeping her securely in place, pressing her against his chest and making it impossible for her to fall — or to escape, for that matter.

She tried to interrogate him, to read what was happening on his face, but she couldn't find anything there. His jaw was tight, his teeth gritted so hard that one of his fangs was coming out of his mouth. Other than that, his face was completely closed, and Kagome felt a weird twist in her stomach. He felt so far from her in that moment.

Inuyasha deftly climbed a tree and sat her on one of the branch.

"Bandits," he said with his usual economy of words.

Kagome blinked. "But can't you… take care of them?" she didn't like the implication of her words, as she certainly didn't want him to have to kill anyone, however she knew how good of a fighter he was.

He shook his head. "I told ya, we're close from demons territories. Lots of rogue monks 'round here. Probably lots of traps too. I could smell 'em, but if we're running" and with your smell as a distraction, "I'd risk to run into them."

The young woman nodded in understanding. "So… what do we do then?"

…he hadn't expected to feel like that upon hearing her trusting him with her life. He cleared his throat discreetly. Now wasn't the time. "You stay here. Imma get them away from here. You wait for the day, and then you get to the closest inn and you get as many soldiers as you can to get me out of here." He handed her a piece of paper he'd kept in his haori. "Here, that's Kaede's letter. I guess they'll follow you instantly if you show them that. I doubt anyone else would survive in demon territory."

Kagome remained silent for a few seconds. "We don't have time for that woman, I…"

"What do you mean, 'get you out of here'?" she asked quietly. "Why don't you just stay hidden here with me until they get away?"

Those words did something strange to him, like pretty much anything that came out of her mouth. "If there's a monk among them, he's probably, erm, felt me. Don't know how that works, but I can't risk luring them to you."

She shook her head, leaning closer to him. "But if they're bandits and there's a monk, they'll…"

"I'll be fine, Kagome," he said, reaching for her hand. "I'm valuable. If they know who I am, they'll probably try to trade me for money, if they don't they'll sell me or whatever." He swallowed. "That's not to say they won't have their fun with me, so try to hurry, but I'll be okay. I promise."

He didn't know why he was doing his promise. For a split second, as she stared at his face desperately, he thought that she wouldn't care about that, just about her own safety, and already his ears started to flatten against his skull as he expected her mockery.

Instead, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, making him freeze, and suddenly making him way too conscious of her small body against his, of how her breasts were pressed against his chest, and once more, of her tantalizing smell.

"Be safe, Inuyasha," she whispered. "I swear I'll kill you if you're not."

He couldn't help but smile, and slowly, he dared to put his arms around her, gently holding her against him, careful as though he risked breaking her. She pulled away, and he took in her face, trying to stop himself from glancing at her lips and failing miserably.

"You'd better stay safe," he growled as fear overtook him at the thought of leaving her alone here. "Fuck, Kagome, if something happens to you…"

He didn't know what he did. The mere thought drove him insane, and fear almost made him unable to move.

But Kagome smiled defiantly.

"I'll come and get you," she promised.

He nodded. Time was suspended for a second during which his body felt as though it was oscillating towards her, brought close like she was a magnet.

He broke it off, and in one swift move, he jumped to the ground.

He didn't get far, and under Kagome's horrified eyes he was almost immediately cornered by several men. With a feral snarl he jumped towards them, claws and fangs ready for an attack, only to be hit with what she identified, wide-eyed, as an ofuda.

"Those things really come in handy," the man who'd thrown it sniggered.

He didn't see Inuyasha's claws coming, and he screamed when they dived into his chest.

"Shit!" someone yelled. "What the fuck?"

They all started throwing ofudas. Inuyasha kept standing, moving slower and slower, but unwilling to give up, before finally falling to the ground, still thrashing around.

"Fuck," one of the man hissed. "He's fucking strong."

"Isn't he a half-breed though?" someone else asked in disbelief. "How can he be…"

"Never mind that," the man who'd talked first snapped, making the other one flinch — probably the chief. "Let's bring him back to the camp before he can move again. We're going to run short of ofudas and that guy… He'll kill us all."

Inuyasha could have sighed in relief if he wasn't in so much pain. Even behind the veil of the torture, his mind was clear enough to think that now, at least, Kagome would be safe. He had feared they would look around for someone else. Thankfully, he had distracted them enough so they wouldn't think about it.

"My Master will know what to do about it," a young voice said confidently, and at that Inuyasha frowned, trying to catch a glimpse of the person talking. He found himself filled with fear when he realized it was a young monk. Shit. He'd hoped that would be all they had. If there was another one, maybe he'd… "He probably still have some Beads."

The chief laughed at that. "That should be fun. He could probably use some submission," he commented, kicking Inuyasha, making him thrash around more. "Let's just try not to kill him this time boys, shall we?"

More laughs. Dread was starting to fill Inuyasha. He didn't want to wear Beads of Submission. He knew what those did, how they were abused by humans. No. He kept his mouth shut though. He had promised Kagome he would be okay, and he would make sure to stay alive, no matter how long it took her. Probably a few days — maybe a week.

He just had to hope they wouldn't be able to do too much damage to him until then. Still, if it meant she'd be safe that way… It was all worth it.

Kagome muffled her sobs, pressing her hand against her mouth as she watched them roughly grabbing Inuyasha and taking him away, making sure to stay away from his mouth and tying his hands behind his back.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Beads of Submission. Her mom had talked about that, once, with more disgust in her voice than she had ever heard before. She had also heard soldiers joke about that — about how they wished they could put them on a woman, about what they'd do if they could put them on a demon… It was a fate worst than death in the mind of many. The thought only made her sick.

If she left as Inuyasha had asked her, they would no doubt put them on him. That meant he'd be linked to the person who had done it, from what she knew, and she could only guess how much that probably disgusted him. He wouldn't admit it, but he was probably terrified. Someone as proud as him would hate it.

If she didn't do it, there was a risk she'd fail in freeing him. But then, maybe they'd kill him anyway, maybe they'd torture him, maybe they'd break him. All options felt equally as terrible, and she closed her eyes to stop the tears, taking one deep breath as the voices started to fade away. If she wanted to follow them, she had to do it now, she had no time to be hesitating.

Oh, what to do?

What to do?

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha au #my writing

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scripttorture · 6 years

Note

I have a character who was never held as a child, never given any physical affection and was kept in a lab and experimented on (needles, etc.) for the first six years of his life. He was trained as a weapon of sorts as well. years later he still trusts almost no-one, what would I have to do to make a romantic relationship realistic? (Sorry if this makes no sense) тнαик уσυ!!（*＾3＾）

OK so I’ve consulted with members of the Script Family who know a lot more about childhood developmentthan I do and there’s a good chance that your character wouldn’t live intoadulthood.

Insufficient touch at an early age is linked to a host of conditions andimpairments in human children. The mechanism is more thoroughly studied in rats(for rather obvious ethical reasons) but the essential conclusion is this:gentle, caring touch is essential for childhood development.

There’sa short academic review paper on the subject here which covers humans and rats(and worms but that’s not relevant to your story). There’s a moreaccessible piece in Scientific American here. Basedon these papers I think whatever you decide you need to remove the ‘lack oftouch’ as an element in your story.

You want this to be realistic so I think the most helpful thing I can dois start suggesting alternatives rather than try to go into depth aboutchildhood development (an area where my knowledge is patchy at best).

I have issues with the motif of children being raised as ‘weapons’. I’vespent too much time reading about (and seen too many) child soldiers to feeleasy treating it as pure fantasy (the way I gather most audiences from richstable countries do).

I’m saying that as statement of bias- from what you’ve described I don’tthink it’s an element you ‘have’ to change but I think you need to think aboutwhich of these background elements you’ve included is most important to yourstory.

Basically what I think you need to decide is which of these things is most important to the story:

1) The character was raised as aweapon and is an effective fighter

2) The character was used as asubject in unethical experiments

3) The character was tortured

The reason you can’t realistically include all of those elementstogether is because they all reduce the efficiency of each other.

A character who is tortured willbe a less effective fighter and torture would add another unaccounted forvariable into a scientific study which would basically make any data gathereduseless.

A character who is used as an experimental subject couldn’t be effectively trained as a fighter without alsodisrupting the experiments.

The best way to achieve point 1) is to raise the character in a loving, caring environment (includinghaving positive reinforcement, caring parental figures and touch). Thecharacter’s kind, caring, lovingparental figures would then teach the child about war, weapons and fighting inmuch the same way a normal parent would introduce teaching a child to read.They would lavish praise on him and teach him that he is part of somethingbigger, a glorious cause.

And if they did it ‘right’ he would grow up mentally healthy, welltrained and perfectly willing to kill for them.

I’vewritten about scenarios like this before and you might find this ask helpful.

The best way to achieve point 2) is to get rid of any notion thatthe character is being trained for anything and remember that in this scenario any torture is secondary.

Serious scientists do not setout to cause animal experimental models more pain. If your character is beingtreated like an experimental animal then that means any pain he experienceswill be secondary to what thescientists are interested in.

Let me give you an example: the case of Elsie Lacks.

Elsie was committed to a mental ward as a child in America during the50s. Elsie was mentally handicapped (the diagnosis of the time was ‘idiocy’)she was epileptic and deaf. She was also black.

Elsie was used in at least two, and possibly more, medical experiments.There’s no evidence the hospital sought consent and given her age andcapacities Elsie may not have been capable of giving it. One involved insertingmetal probes into patient’s brains. The other drained the fluid from apatient’s skull so the brain could be x-rayed, a procedure that causes dizziness,vomiting, seizures and headaches for months while the skull refills with fluidand can also cause permanent brain damage and paralysis. Elsie died aftermaking herself vomit for six months. By the end she was bringing up clottedblood. She was 15.

The pain Elsie suffered was notthe point.

The people who did this to her did notgo out of their way to cause her greater suffering. They treated her like anobject, another part of the test. They acted in a manner that was systematic, reproducible,recorded and wrong.

Torture is not reproducible. It is rarely recorded. It is notsystematic. And it always treats pain, cruelty and neglect as the point rather than as a secondaryfactor.

Which brings me to scenario 3).

Torture and abuse doesn’t mesh well with science. It’s usually conductedimpulsively with little regard for any controlling factors.

Torturers usually use multiple techniques and they will generallycombine techniques. They often misjudge how much damage they’ve caused whichcommonly results in serious injury or the victim’s death.

This doesn’t mean they always leave scars. Some techniques, what I referto as ‘clean’ torture, don’t leave obvious external marks. This can maketorture incredibly hard to detect and prove.

Deaths from clean torture techniques are often attributed to accidentsor an underlying health condition in the victim (for instance a sudden heartattack, stroke or organ failure).

The pattern of abuse is generally that torturers use a lot of techniquesvery quickly, over a period of perhaps the first three days. After that theytend to start to lose interest in the particular victim and start concentratingtheir efforts on other individuals.

In the longer term (ie months) what you tend to see is an irregularcycle of intense abuse, followed by longer periods when the victim ismore-or-less ignored.

How to approach the question ofyour character having a romantic relationship as an adult depends on which ofthese three points is important to you in the story.

In scenario 1) where the character is primarily a soldier/weapon I’dtreat it as if he’d escaped from a cult. Difficulty trusting his partner andhaving to take the relationship incredibly slowly both seem reasonable. Therelationship would probably also bring up a lot of self-doubt for thecharacter. His partner would probably contradict everything he was taught aboutpeople outside the organisation that raised him. He might find himself thinkingabout his childhood a lot and recognising ‘new’ things that were wrong orpoisonous about it.

He might find innocent things his partner did reminded him of his ‘family’and ‘training’.

You mightfind this BBC article, which interviews a woman who left a US cult, helpful forwriting that sort of scenario.

In scenarios 2) and 3) your character would, realistically, have a lotof serious mental health problems. Youcan find out more about the common symptoms of torture here, these symptomswould also apply to someone used in unethical experimentation.

We can’t predict which individual would develop which symptoms and notall victims experience all symptoms.

From a writing perspective that means picking symptoms from the list andshowing them consistently impacting your character’s life. I advise pickingsymptoms based on what you feel fits the character and the story, for suchprolonged abuse at such a young age I’d say around 5 severe symptoms is a goodball-park figure but don’t be afraid to use more than that.

The issues the character would encounter with a romantic relationshipwould be dependent on his symptoms. But generally speaking I’d expect him to finda romantic relationship, or indeed anylong term relationship extremely difficult. Perhaps cripplingly difficult.

Healthy relationships are hardwork. It isn’t unrealistic for a character with such severe mental healthproblems to be in a long term relationship butthere are a lot of good reasons why a person in his position might choose not to be in a relationship.

There is nothing wrong with a character putting his health first. And….essentiallyif this is the character’s first romantic relationship and he went through sucha prolonged and traumatic experience as a child I think he’d have to put his health before therelationship.

I don’t mean he’d have to break off the relationship. I mean that hispartner would probably have to accept things like:

‘I know you spentmonths planning this holiday for us together but I’m going to have to cancel atthe last minute while in the airport because going through security is givingme a panic attack.’

‘I know you wanted us togo out for your birthday but my anxiety is awful today and I can’t leave thehouse.’

‘I know we were havinga lovely meal, but I’ve just been triggered and I’m now going to spend half anhour having a flashback in the restaurant bathroom.’

Not everyone is accepting of these knock-on effects of mental healthproblems. Not everyone is OK with having to suddenly drop everything going onin their day because their partner is feeling suicidal.

Even people who are acceptingof their partner’s health problems will make mistakes. They will almostcertainly accidentally trigger things, say things that feed into mental healthproblems or do small things that make the issue worse.

There’s a lot in this scenario that I strongly advise you to re-thinkand re-write if you want something even close to realism. Until you make adecision about what sort of background you’d like the character to have I can’tgive more detail on how it would affect his future romantic relationships.

Nonetheless I hope it helps you with your story and if you decide youwould like to make the character’s background more realistic I’d be happy tohelp with any further questions you have about how that would affect his adultlife and relationships. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #tw child abuse #tw racism #unethical experimentation #child soldiers #child abuse #cults #psychological effects of torture #leaving cults #touch deprivation #Anonymous

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wannaonerella · 7 years

Text

Pt.2

https://goo.gl/GXEYSn Pt.1 here if you haven’t read it yet.

Thank you, everyone, for reading so far. I have to confess I am terrible at being consistent with stories. I had scheduled this part actually for last Friday but somehow life was holding me back. Sorry for that.

I want to extend a big thank you to @wanna-one-scenarios and @wannatales for giving me feedback (hopefully fewer grammar mistakes this time lol). Go and check out their blogs. They have super good stories (that are short and more single read style than my more continues story board - if you prefer that) also about other Wanna One members.

P.S: If you were wondering of the usage of Korean words, I am sorry if it’s confusing but I feel like as the writer of this story I like to make things as authentic as possible so sometimes things from Korea might pop up. And also I am Korean so oh well... lol.

I love hearing feedback, so leave me a heart, a reblog or a message if you feel like it. And still, a title missing so please suggestions always welcome!

xoxo ______________________________________________________________

After you left the room hastily you rush to the bathroom to catch your breath and check yourself out in the mirror. You stare into the mirror and do a pep talk. "You are fine. You are good. You are capable. Today is going to be a good day. Nothing can distract you." You take three deep breaths but then your phone buzzes and a message pops on your screen.

"Hey (x/y)-ah! It's me, Daniel. Just wanted to leave you a message that you also have my number and I wish you a wonderful day. I will come back to you around the evening with some more gathered thoughts. Hwaiting! "

"Aghhhhhhhhhhh, this guy?! I just calmed myself down and it comes all up again. What kind of magic spell is this that he put on me?" you ask yourself and sort of grumpy type back a short thank you and you too message.

It was definitely a rough day to work through your schedule due to lack of sleep and lack of concentration. Somehow your mind kept flashing back to the meeting in the morning, trying to remember if there were any important points you had missed for the project. However, every time you tried to think about the project and work, your brain rewired itself to Daniel, Daniel, and more Daniel. It made you furious since you have a strict work ethic and do not like to get into any form of distraction. Professionalism was always your thing and that was what brought yourself through the industry so far – personal feelings and emotions had to take the backseat and you were quite good at it.

Late night back home you try to wind down from the day and grab a nicely chilled beer from the fridge. This day somehow earned some mid-week alcohol even though you were a cautious drinker. Alcohol had become a staple at one point as soon as you had started living in Korea. That green magic and evil bottle called Soju was everywhere and never to be left out of any business dinners. Korean beer, however, was terrible, not your taste at all. I was always a hunt for good beer in Seoul and you were picky as hell. Being half way through the beer, your phone rings. You do not care to look who calls but just swipe the screen and pick up.

"Hello?" "Hey! It's me again, Daniel. I hope I am not catching you during something important. How are you?" You choke on your beer that you were taking a sip of and think HOLY SHIT, WHAT IS HAPPENING? DOES THIS DAY NOT END? "*cough*Ehm, oh… *cough* Hey! *cough* Just a sec, please…" "(x/y)-ah? Are you ok? What happened?" said Daniel in a very worried tone. You recover as fast as possible from choking and try to gather yourself by taking a deep breath, not realizing that you did it straight into the microphone of the phone.

"Yeah that's good I think. Take some deep breaths." OH GOD… THIS IS GETTING WORSE. I AM MAKING A COMPLETE FOOL OUT OF MYSELF. P-R-O-F-E-S-S-I-O-N-A-L! C'MON YOU CAN DO IT! "Oh dear sorry, Daniel. I didn't expect you to call and thought that it's my friend or someone from my family and was simultaneously taking a sip from my beer. Lesson learned, try not to do several actions at the same time." "Drinking beer on a Tuesday evening? Nothing against it but is everything okay? Did anything bad happen today?" You can feel Daniel’s smirk through the phone. "No, no by all means. Just trying to wind down from a long day that's all. Anyways, look at my manners. I am good thank you, how about you?" "All good from my side, I am more interested in what you did today."

You absolutely do not like how the conversation is going so far neither how it started from the beginning. This feels like I am having a call with a boyfriend and not a person I am trying to work with on a project. I have to turn the conversation around to him as fast and swiftly as possible, else I really will get out of ideas how to hold on to this phone call.

"There was nothing interesting, was just a lot of desktop work today. But thank you for asking, very kind. I am assuming you are calling because you have gathered up your ideas for the shoot? I am all ears." You hear a short silence and wonder what he's going to say next. "Uhm, yeah about that… Actually, I figured there is so much that I don't think I can tell you all through a phone call also I would be taking too much of your evening right now. I want you to rest. You must have had a long day." "Okay, then what is the purpose of this call then?" you cut him sharply off right there. "Oh… ehm… you know… I just wanted us to…" Silence. "I am sorry if that came over wrong. I just wanted you to get to the main point as fast as possible. I like working efficiently. I hope you understand, this goes for the whole project." "No no, don't worry. Ehm… well, then I just wanted to tell you that we should discuss things over a dinner? Can you do anytime this week?" "Just a sec, I'll check my calendar. (shuffling through your bag, you grab your booklet and start flipping through) I am pretty packed this week honestly." "Oh… Uhm… then…" Daniel mumbles in a distinctive disappointed tone. "Wait, I could squish you in last minute on Thursday. If a late dinner meeting at 8.30pm isn't a problem for you." "No problem at all. I am looking forward." His tone brightens up again. "Good. Then I will reserve a good discrete enough place for Thursday and send you a message with the location details." "Awesome! I am looking forward. Then I don't want to stop you anymore. Have a good night and sleep well (x/y)-ah. Maybe we meet in each other dreams? At least I hope to." "Thank you, you too." You hang up fast.

WHAT? "Meet each other dreams?" I must be deaf or somethings. And me saying ‘Thank you, you too' and hanging up? What kind of a crappy response was that? And wait… dinner meeting?? Who the fuck books a dinner meeting? What just happened? You try to gather together what just happened in this short 5-minute call. This was by far a very weird phone call. Somehow these happenings today are too much to handle for you. Have I become so rusty at realizing what's going on? This is flirting no? I mean he is trying, right? You can't believe what is happening and just shake your hands through your hair wildly. Your heart seems to be sort of going wild right now too. Is this going to end well?

Thursday approaches.

#kangdaniel #fanfiction #kpop scenarios #wanna one #fluff #storytime #kpop

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blueraith · 7 years

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Also looks like I won’t be going back to Supergirl

Watched all of Season 1, fell in love with the Danvers sisters. Sister relationships are one of my favorite dynamics. I’m the oldest of three girls. I get very tired of seeing sister relationships as nothing but toxic competitions or just played for laughs on television. So, Supergirl really hit that itch for me. And then I heard that they butchered Alex and Kara’s relationship in Season 2 and decided to hold off for a little bit. If it got better in S3, I’d think about returning. Even though Alex got a very well written, supposedly for just the first half at least, coming out plot. Alex was my favorite, even before I knew that. She was this kick ass older sister who was there for Kara in every way she could be. The show even got the parts right when Alex was hesitant to go to Kara about some things because she was afraid Kara either wouldn’t understand or that her issues weren’t something she wanted to burden Kara with. Totally understand that on an uncomfortable level.

Then I found out that Alex totally slacks on her sister duties. Focuses too much on her girlfriend. Then said relationship with said girlfriend get put to the sidelines in favor of Kara’s relationship with this guy I don’t hear particularly great things about.

All of that I could have dismissed if S3 turned out to be any good. Shows often have an awkward stage. This show literally changed networks and writing teams. I suppose some mistakes are to be expected. I was prepared to forgive and forget so long as S3 did anything whatsoever to rectify all the missteps.

And then came the news about SDCC. And I’m like, nah, I’m out. For the foreseeable future. Fanfiction will just have to do. That and Wynonna Earp. Wearp is totally beating Supergirl to death in terms of sisterly bonding and LGBT representation. It’s not even a competition, and it’s sad really. It’s not hard to do these things. Wynonna Earp literally rewrote their second season to accommodate a surprise development with one of their cast members. And said accommodation is actually working. I don’t know why this show decided to focus so much on a male character when Season 1 was so focused on making Kara into her own person, to finding her own way, and getting out of Superman’s shadow. And then they take about 30 steps back. And then the cast seems so tone deaf about it all.

I don’t care if it was a non-canon ship. I read a few supercorp fanfics every once in a while. Sanvers was always more of my thing. But I enjoyed it for what it was. Unfollowed anybody toxic on Tumblr on both sides. It’s not hard to manage your dash and avoid all the bullshit in shipping wars. The cast should have been far more aware of this stuff. You don’t make fun of ships, canon or not. Folks aren’t stupid. They knew it was unlikely this show would be brave or forward enough to make their lead character anything but straight. They could barely include Sanvers in the end there, after all. Treat your fans with some basic decency, y’all. I know Jeremy’s past with his family issues. He did a great thing there. But just because he did a great thing, stood up for what was right then, it doesn’t mean it’s over. Allies are allies 24/7. It doesn’t end. Just like being LGBT doesn’t end, you gotta realize that you don’t get to pick and choose. And when you make a mistake, you’ve gotta own it 100%. Because we deal with a constantly aware world. Your fans are closer to you than ever. You have to keep that in mind at all times. You have to keep in mind that you’re dealing with people who are young, who are probably impulsive, who are not going to react to your words and ‘jokes’ as well as you would have hoped for. (Also it is only a joke when everyone is laughing. Jokes are not something you get to decide them to be when the target of the alleged joke is also the butt of the ‘joke.’ Come on, that’s Joking 101.)

He should have apologized in a far less defensive manner far sooner than he had. If he did, the fandom probably wouldn’t be such a dumpster fire right now. It doesn’t really matter that there are fans who are overreacting right now. That’s to be expected when something like that happens. It’s a shame that some folks take it way too far, that they won’t take responsibility for any threats they may make, but that’s the world we live in. That’s what’s going to end up happening in a fandom crisis nowadays. Especially when dealing with a young fandom like Supergirl. It’s on the CW for god’s sake. This freakout should have been expected for PR. Somebody should have been with this dude from the moment it happened to slap some sense into him and to screen his posts. This is basic stuff nowadays. Don’t say shit that’s even remotely flammable when this stuff happens. You literally cannot afford it in a professional setting. That’s the main reason I feel sorry for absolutely no one in the cast right now. Reddit is all about blaming the fans at the moment, saying that it’s Tumblr freakout from a bunch of immature babies, but that’s the reality right now. You literally hurt the feelings of teenagers in a vulnerable position. You and your cast members are the adults here. The writing team, the PR team, your team, you all have to be far more conscious of this stuff than you are. A lot of these kids look to these shows for an escape. When you threaten that, this is what you get. Folks saying this is just an overreaction that’s unwarranted are never going to get it. They have hundreds of shows to choose from when it comes to representation. Losing one is never going to hurt them as much as it hurts a minority group. Never.

And that’s what frustrates me the most here. Because if you’re this tone deaf, if you can’t even grasp how simple it is to not go out of your way to hurt your fans feelings like this, it’s going to happen again. PR did absolutely no favors for this fandom. The cast members who started this did no favors. They don’t even grasp what really went wrong here. You don’t mock a non-canon ship that’s m/f, right? That’s often just taken in stride, right? Then why do it for any gay ship? Because it’s a joke to y’all? That’s what’s got everyone upset in the end, dudes. It’s really a shame that it has to be spelled out, but that’s the world we live in. Jeremy, folks are being hard on you not to be mean for shits and giggles. They’re going after you because you’re so fucking tone deaf, so insensitive, that had they not smacked you as hard as they have, you likely never would have realized you did anything wrong in the first place.

Supergirl is gonna have an uphill battle to win any LGBT fans back. I mean, we got Wynonna Earp a third season with #NoChill. This community is easily the loudest on the internet. You’re gonna lose all that if you don’t wise up and take some steps to fix this. But I doubt you guys are gonna pull it off. Because you don’t really get it, do you? You don’t get what made Supergirl great in the first place, you’re focusing on bullshit that is literally the same from show to show, network to network, 24/7. Your m/f ships are never going to make headlines here. You’re doing nothing particularly noteworthy with them. You live in the golden age of television right now, guys. Wise up a little bit. Disrespecting your fanbase like you are is going to do you no favors.

We live in the golden age of television. I already replaced you with another show before all of this. Why in the world should I go back now? What have you got for me? Until you can answer that question, looks like I’m staying away.

#supergirl

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olaluwe · 4 years

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Image for representational purposes only As a woman, her three kids, and their house-girl laden with two small cartons and a poly bag of consumable walked down the staircase of an Abuja supermarket, suddenly it began to rain. It was a heavy rainfall but surprisingly devoid of a high wind. It was a well-heralded one going by its anvil-headed cloudy onset. Obviously taken aback by the development and unprepared to let her kids walk through it, understandably though, she approached the security personnel on duty and asked to be allowed to drive in to enable her pick her family and all she has bought from the supermarket. The head-guard politely turned down her request citing the existing rule of engagement that no customer should be allowed to drive into the supermarket premises for reasons of lack of space. He went a little further to intimate the woman that since the commencement of operations by the plaza where the supermarket is housed, only the MD normally parks her car in the premises. The chairman who is also the husband to the MD hardly ever drives in much less parked his car in the premises. The only people that are occasionally exempted from this regulation are the products delivery mini-buses and the bikes. Many times too, they are also denied access and asked to park outside. The lack of space was that acute and the approach has ensured sanity. But the woman would have not of it. She flew into a rage questioning the authority of the guard on why she could not be allowed to drive in to pack her things even as the rain continues to pound everything in sight. The guard would not shift ground as a man under authority which led to a heated argument. It was a battle that she was ready to give everything to win no minding whether or not it runs counter to the policy thrust of the supermarkets management. The guard being very professional, however, tried to calm her down and imploring her to reason with him that being a security officer he's duty bound to execute the existing traffic and security protocols put in place by the management of the plaza which also owns the supermarket. He also assures her that it is nothing personal. Rather than become convinced, the woman became edgy and loudly abusive. She demanded to see the manager who unfortunately was not on seat because it was a Sunday. While her fit lasted, she insisted on driving in and even went as far as opening the gate. This the guard immediately countered. He railed it back to position and promptly put it under lock and key. This got her the more infuriated. She nevertheless daringly drove her car with the aim of forcing her way in. She was prevented by other cars that were parked in such a manner that it would be impossible for another car to navigate in-between them. After discovering that she was not making any headway and obstructing traffic on the narrow way which other road users were not finding funny, she decided to park the car properly. She yet immediately stormed out of the car to continue her insulting rants.

Image for representational purposes only

The guard at this stage has to fade into the background of the circuitously nervy moment to avert a confrontation breaking out. She, however, continued to rasp that had it not been for the obstructive cars, she would've either ran her car into gate or look for something to break the gate's padlock and nothing would happen. At this point, the CSO came out of the building from where he had been attending to other pressing matters. He was an elderly man and a retired prison official. He also unsuccessfully tried to persuade the woman to see reasons with them. He even went as far as providing a solution that's most appropriate to the situation by sourcing for an umbrella- first a small one, then later a bigger one. And he also offered to help in taking the children, who from the look on their faces could not understand what the fuzz by their mother was all about, to the car. The overtures fell on deaf ears. But one could see that the children were more than prepared to walk through the rain as it is the manner of children, especially as it begins to peters out. Playing in the rain is a moment children would always love to savor. More so, when the circumstance is even different But their mother had other ideas. They must not walk in the rain no matter how mild and under an umbrella too. And for the umpteenth time, she stormed out of the supermarket premises and went straight into her and drove off. After a while, she returned and the shouting match continued this time around with the CSO who consequentially lost his cool. It was then that the CSO dared her to do her worst and see if she would not be answerable for whatever damages she eventually caused. For the last time, she exited the supermarket's veranda where her children, the house-girl, and goods were. She now drove the car as if to permanently obstruct the entrance to the plaza. By then, the CSO now has the full attention of the kids. And they were a conversational bunch of happy, smiling sweethearts who excitedly talked about their names, school, and various classes. The CSO's olive branch also continued as he attempted to immediately begin to move the kids covered with the umbrella towards the car. From afar, she screamed that her kids be let alone. And the CSO simply sat back on the plastic chair. Now the rain has subsided into a drizzle. In a surprise move, however, she began to move the kids, proudly and practically lifting them off the ground one after the other like eggs ostensibly to prevent their feet from touching the wet, clean floor of the plaza with its beautifully set interlocks and placing them in the backseat of the car. When she was done, she zoomed off. And sanity immediately returned to the ambience. She would subsequently become a subject of intense and revelational conversation among the members of staff, bystanders, and fellow customers. Many are of the opinion that her attitudes was unbecoming especially towards the security hierarchy who through their boss even went as far as providing an umbrella in the bid to amicably resolve the impasse. Some confessed to knowing the husband whom they described as a perfect gentleman. And that she has caused the man embarrassments on a number of occasions. They concluded that she is not a worthy ambassador for wives and mothers Some find fault in her approach to showing the children love, and I think I did too.To me, if there is a terrible way to love children, who are the next generation of parents and leaders whom we expect to lead by example, then the act she puts up must ranked as one. It's unthinkable that showing children love would include preventing them from being beaten by either the rain or, sunshine if I may add; and more so, unjustly fighting constituted authority on their behalf and constituting a public nuisance. Of course, I've no objection to not wanting them to step out in the rain particularly when it was in its forceful state but to practically lifted them so their feet don't touch the floor even when it has calmed is a height of mischief and a disservice to their evolving personalities. It's clearly not the kind of life any child would want to live. It's also not the kind of life parents, under any guise, should give to their children and wards. But then the choice is for each and everyone of us to make and the consequences to live with.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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sending-the-message · 7 years

Text

I missed the eclipse... Is anyone out there? by jerseycrawler

I didn’t buy the glasses. I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal, I could look at it without any real repercussions for a few seconds. When everyone was yelling about how you can’t look directly at the sun because of the cosmic rays and such, I shrugged and thought, not me. And the day came for the eclipse. The airwaves were buzzing with energy. The YouTube feeds were primed, showing fields of people waiting for that little cheeseball (the Moon) to pass in front of Sol. I went to Jiu Jitsu and then went home and got into bed. I figured there was an hour before the event, so I hopped into bed and perused the internet, hoping for a new video by Jacksepticeye or Markiplier or one of those internet personalities.

Unfortunately, my mind is a sinister beast, bent on destroying any possibility of happiness in my life and the first website I went to was one of those sex chatrooms. I found a girl bibustyF and I said, “hey can you help me with a rp?” She answered and we started having a detailed chat about some perverse ideas contained within both of our minds. I didn’t care if she was a guy. My mind just wanted to get off. At least it was in a detailed and constructive manner, though jerking off is never constructive for me and has led to the phallic structure protruding from my groin being nothing but a flaccid useless organ, like the appendix, though my appendix probably has more use because of all the meat I eat. So, three hours later, maybe even four, we wrapped up our session, I’d cum a couple of times, and I sat in my sweat and regret. I was defeated and when I saw the time it hurt that much worse.

I ran outside and looked straight up at the sun. It was behind a thin veil of clouds and the obscurity allowed me to stare for a few seconds before the tingling burn began upon my retinas. I saw a light orb passing in front of the sun though. I smiled at the sight of the eclipse and looked up again—burning some more in my eyes, not caring about possible damage, and then looked away. It was pretty much over, unfortunately. I caught the last bit, but I didn’t get to see the pinnacle. I cursed myself and started to head back inside, but before I could, my ears picked up on my surroundings. Do you know what they heard?

Nothing…

Emptiness…

Voidness…

I am not talking about just a quiet summer day—this was as if I were within the deepest void in the blackest vistas of outer space. I stood there, able to hear the sound of my heart beating and even the sounds of my stomach digesting the nuts I’d eaten when I got home. I tried to press my hearing, to accentuate the sense so I could hear further. I closed my eyes and held my head towards the direction of the trees a quarter mile away. Not a bird chirped. Not a cicada hummed. Not a wind blew. The trees didn’t even rustle. And the more I listened, the quieter it got, as if sound was being sucked from the planet I resided on.

I wondered if I had a sudden onset of deafness. Many family members had gone deaf as a result of sickness, so it could've been that. I clapped my hands together and heard the sound they made, dispelling that line of thought.

I walked to the edge of the patio and stared towards the street. The driveways were empty. I’d seen people packing up their cars that morning, but I didn’t think everyone on the block was leaving. There was always that one guy a couple houses down who never left his house, leaving his old coupe in the driveway which probably hadn’t been driven in ten years. I looked up at the sun and I stared and I stared, but there was no retinal damage. I walked onto the grass and I could hear the rustle so prominently of my feet on the verdure. I shivered as I walked, a nothingness surrounding me.

The soundlessness grew though, the further I went from my patio. At a certain point, the sounds of my footsteps were gone. Then went the sounds of my stomach churning. Then the sound of my heartbeat. I felt a pain shoot up the left side of my body and I ran back to my patio, the sound returning to my actions but nothing more. The pain subsided, but not completely. Something remained within my heart and with each bump a dull knock came, like a gas bubble that was expanding and receding.

My cell was in my pocket so I grabbed it. I tried turning it on but there was nothing, just the black emptiness that went together so well with the world I was living in. I went back into the house. Upon my reentry, something was off—actually, everything was off. There wasn’t any AC. No TV, microwave, dishwasher, laundry—nothing would turn on. I called out for my dogs, but there was nothing. That’s when I really got scared.

I’ve had my little Zo for twelve years and Hudson for four. She was a shit-poo and he was a black lab. They always came when I called for them. I called again and again, but nothing I started rummaging through the house. I looked in all of their usual spots, behind the couch, underneath the bed, under the kitchen table. They weren’t anywhere. I frantically yelled, tears streaking down my face when the realization came that they were completely gone when all of the doors and windows in the house were locked and both of them were inside only a minute before I walked out.

I jumped out the front door and ran for my car—it wasn’t there. Standing in the driveway, the nothingness around me, only visions of the neighborhood I called home, though it quickly turned into a place of horrors as the soundless surroundings grew. I screamed and nothing left my lips. I heard nothing from without or within and the pain streaked through me, like a horrible freezing burn. I ran back to my porch and screamed until I could hear myself again. But the pain inside of my heart only grew.

Nothing stirred. Even the trees had stopped as if a snapshot had been taken and posted up where a lively thriving neighborhood had been. The clouds weren’t even moving anymore and when I looked up at the sun, it no longer did anything. I was just a ball of light but the light didn’t do anything when I looked at it. I felt no heat from it. Everything was emptying. Some sort of disposal unit had come to collect everything. I cried on my porch and winced every few minutes from the horrible beating of my heart. I walked inside, feeling the stifling emptiness of my house becoming part of the nothing as well. I grabbed a banana just to know that it was still there and not just a part of this horrific snapshot. I ripped it open and took a bite. No taste to it. It was nothing as well.

I sat down at the table and tried to figure out what was happening. My head was swarmed with thoughts. At least there was something for me to hear, but if I had to listen to them and only them for the rest of my life I’d go crazy. I stood up, drained of tears and woes and went out the back door to the patio.

Upon taking a few steps onto the patio the pain shot up the left side again, this time worse than the last, and I nearly collapsed as I tried to heave myself back inside. I managed to get there, but the pain in my heart was worse, forcing a wince with each heartbeat, and the realization that some sort of boundary was collapsing in on me. The walls were closing in and I was going to be crushed.

I ran upstairs to my bedroom, the computer open and facing away from me. I ran to the bed, the most central point in the house, figuring that it would be the last place to go when things came down around me. I saw that the computer was still on. I stared at the screen, the field with the clouds in the background which looked like it would’ve had a really soothing sound. I tried to imagine the sound of that peaceful place, but no sound came to mind. I couldn’t even hear the musings anymore. Everything was being swallowed into the void.

Then a loud ding sounded, bouncing off the walls of my room and causing me to jump, startled by the unexpected, though relieving, disturbance of the familiar sound. It was the sound of a message being received from the sex chatroom that I frequented. I clicked on the tab on my browser and there was a message waiting for me. It was from bibustyF.

bibustyF: Hey there sweetie!

Me: Hey… something weird is happening.

bibustyF: Is your cock hard again or something? After what we did I’d think you won’t be able to get it up for a month.

Me: No! There’s no sound—no movement—no nothing.

bibustyF: Ooh. R u trying to seduce me or something?

Me: I’m not fucking kidding! Something fucked up is happening to me.

bibustyF: Oh baby! I’m here for you. Tell me what you need.

Me: I need you to call someone. Tell them to get to 110 Hartshorn Rd, West Orange, New Jersey. I need help ASAP!

bibustyF: Honey… there ain’t no one to call.

Me: What?!

bibustyF: You’re it baby. You’re all there is.

Me: Stop fucking around. I’m already scared enough.

bibustyF: Don’t be scared. Soon enough you’ll know. I saved you.

Me: What the fuck are you saying?

bibustyF: tsk tsk! Foul words ain’t gonna get you anywhere. You should be thanking me.

Me: For what?!

bibustyF: Oh… time’s up. Got business to attend to. Next time I’m on maybe we’ll get a little hot together. Let me know.

(bibustyF has disconnected)

I stared at the screen which displayed the chat log of me and whoever this was and I scrolled through it, reading it over and over, trying to understand what the person was talking about. Then I realized, as I was clicking and scrolling, there was no sound emanating from the computer. I couldn’t even feel the keys underneath my fingers. I couldn’t feel the cushion of the bed beneath me. I pressed my hands together and felt them. I screamed out for help and the sound left my lips but was swallowed by the void around me.

I did the only think I knew to do. I opened up another tab, hoping against hope that some semblance of the internet was still working. I needed to get word out somehow and the request went through. The front page of reddit came up and my heart leapt, shooting a pain through me like no other, blinding me with white light for a moment, relieving me of the only sense that seemed to be working correctly. Now I’m here, trying to get word out about what’s happening to me. This pain is climbing through my body with the blood that pumps from my heart. I’m infected with something and I need help. I don’t know how long I have and I don’t even know if there’s anyone else out there to see this—but if there is, please send some help. I can feel this crippling rot moving within me, even though as I press my hands together right now, I can no longer feel my palms or the sweat that’s probably gathering on my forehead, or the tears that are clouding my vision, or the hair that dons my head. I think I regret missing this eclipse.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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magically-inclined · 7 years

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Bristly Encounter

Rating: General Words: 1940

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he was home at last, Nyasho felt some of the tension he’d been feeling ease its grip on him. Here, at least, he knew where he could go to be himself, and not have to worry about the visitor. Alexander wasn’t his guest, wasn’t his pupil, so he didn’t have to play babysitter.

Although Nyasho was always glad to get away and have some breathing space on his own, there was something about coming home that was good. No matter how far he traveled—and no matter how quickly he wanted to leave again—the moment of homecoming was something he sought after. Not when he rode through the gates, not when he greeted any family members who deigned to say hello, but when he settled his mare in the stables, and when he went back to his rooms and pulled out his paints. Even if it was just a few minutes adding color to this or that, it was the only thing he had that was all his own.

Until he was interrupted, that is.

They arrived at Taramakash just after midday, in the dead heat of summer. Alex was certain he’d sweat through his entire shirt if they had arrived any later. The welcome was subdued, to which Alex was grateful for, and before he could figure out which way was up, he was whisked off to his room for the duration of his stay. One of the servants led him through the elegantly decorated corridors. Elaborate tapestries hung on the walls and sculptures were present in almost every corner.

Alex’s temporary room was on the main floor, near the edge of the estate’s central building. Most of the outer rooms had large, open designs, allowing for breezes to cool the rooms. Windows were large and inviting. The main window in Alex’s room had a large ledge which one could sit or sleep on, and the stone used was cool to the touch. It wasn’t too luxurious, but it was nice and suited his purposes.

After cleaning up at the bathhouse, Alex found himself at a loss for what to do. He wouldn’t be starting his studies until the following day, not that he was particularly thrilled to shove his nose in a book so soon. But at least it was something to do. There was no formal dinner tonight, and the servants had already brought him something light to eat after the long journey.

Unable to find anything of interest in his room, Alex decided to wander around and get acquainted with the estate. He started off in one direction and continued to meander through the various halls and rooms open to use. After a while, he got turned around and had to ask for directions back from one of the maids. On his way back to his room, he noticed a room open and peeked in. The room was apparently Nyasho’s, and he’d left the door ajar enough for Alex to let his curiosity get the better of himself. He peeked inside and saw the elf working on a painting, his back at the door. Alex blinked, surprised at how talented he was. He waited until the elf took the brush off the canvas to comment and make his presence known. “That’s beautiful,” he said as he stood at the threshold, leaning against the doorjamb.

After setting his brush down from his flowered landscape painting, Nyasho had been about to reach for the glass of fruit juice sitting on the table next to him when he heard a voice behind him. For only half a second did he freeze before he recognized who the voice belonged to, and he viciously stamped down an irritated reaction. Then he stamped down the next reaction, which was instinctive alarm. This was his private pursuit, something to relax after the long trip, and here came the reason for some of his tension bursting through the door. Except… had he left it open?

It was time to slide into a socially appropriate mask for this situation. Without turning around, he finished taking a drink and said, “You are most kind.” He set down his glass and turned his head just enough to look out of the corner of his eye at Alex. “It is a hobby I enjoy.”

And one step further, “Would you care to join me for a refreshment? I can send for more chilled juice.”

“No, that’s all right,” Alex replied, feeling like he’d intruded. “I was just passing through and saw you painting.” Even though Nyasho was being cordial, he could tell he was interrupting his time. Still, he couldn’t help asking a few more questions before he left.

“How long have you painted? By the looks of your current work, I’d say you’re quite talented in the art.”

Nyasho stood from his cushioned stool, and picked up his paintbrush again. “Thank you. I have painted most of my life,” he said. He stuck the brush into the jar of cleaner and swished it around, then took a rag and wiped it gently.

The canvas in front of him was as wide as the elf’s arm span, and half as tall. It was only half finished, but it depicted a lush garden in the foreground with flowers, bushes, and grape vines, and hinted at in the background were mountain peaks framing the valley. Nyasho had been working on some general shapes in the bushes, using a pale shade of green, a pigment that lingered on his fingertips and on the heel of his left hand, though it did not stain his dark clothing.

“It is merely a hobby,” he said. “It means nothing.”

Which wasn’t precisely true. The painting he was working on was a gift for someone.

Alex smiled at the elf’s comments on his own work. The work spoke for itself in how gifted Nyasho was at his brushwork. The blond had always wanted to be so artistically inclined, however his sister Andaria took all the skills when it came to art.

“I wouldn’t say it was nothing,” Alex replied, stepping into the room a bit more and looking over the work. “My sister dabbles in art as well, but her paintings don’t really compare to this.” His smile faltered a little and he laughed. “Oh dear. Please don’t tell her I said that. It might break her heart.”

That statement made Nyasho blink once in surprise. “I believe it is unlikely that I should have the opportunity to do so.” He straightened a little and his expression grew a bit serious. “I would never do such a thing anyway.”

He shifted back towards his painting and then stopped. “Unless that was a joke.”

Nyasho’s last statement sent a chuckle through Alex. He held his sides as he laughed, not quite sure why the elf’s words struck him as so hilarious. Perhaps it was his serious tone and demeanor, or the fact that Alex had been half joking anyway. Whatever the case, he found it too amusing.

When he’d gathered his wits and managed to stave off anymore laughing fits, he replied. “Yes, it was a joke.” Even if the laughter stopped, the blond still couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You are much too serious, Nyasho. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Alex’s amusement and his comment made Nyasho frown. Nyasho’s manner was none of the boy’s business. Furthermore, he knew he was generally not serious enough for his father’s liking.

The corner of the elf’s mouth twitched, and he gave a disdainful sniff. “In fact I’ve been told the opposite.” He was far less serious when he was able to mind his own business.

He turned away from Alex and sat down again. “Anyway, I’m sure once your sister has ‘dabbled’ for as long as I have, she will achieve a greater level of skill. I’m far older than a human of my appearance would be.”

“That’s true enough. I have no doubt her skill will improve with time.” Alex’s laughter subsided. Nyasho’s stiff attitude completely killed the blond’s mood. “However, whoever told you to be more serious must be the biggest stick in the mud.”

The stool skidded on the marble floor as Nyasho stood abruptly and whirled on the boy. Just because what he said was an observation that the elf had made himself, it didn’t mean that this little brat could come into his house and say such things.

Nyasho slipped two slim peppermint sticks into the sides of his flan and placed a pair of raisins on top. He proudly showed it to his mother. “Look, mama, it’s watching you!”

The woman, her dark curls bouncing as she turned to look, smiled softly. “I can see that.”

His father, Tyronis, scowled. “Asteria, don’t encourage the boy. I won’t have such frivolity at my table!”

Asteria sighed, and then she nodded. “He’s right, dear. Listen to your father. Apologize to him.”

Nyasho’s face fell, and he pulled out the peppermint sticks dejectedly. “Sorry, father,” he mumbled.

Nyasho was nine.

“What do you know?” Nyasho couldn’t help the anger rising in him. This kid, this brat, had no concept of social niceties, had no sense of subtlety. All during their journey here, he had missed every single hint Nyasho had ever dropped, had been unaccountably rude, and had generally behaved like a commoner. That wasn’t to say that Nyasho didn’t usually prefer the company of commoners, but when he was around his family or those in his father’s employ he had to behave in the manner expected of someone of his station.

There was little boy Alex behaving as he damn well pleased regardless of those around him. Was that a human trait, blundering forward like an angry bull, or was he really just the brat everyone said he was?

Nyasho had more words in him. Angry words. He wanted to tell Alex just what he thought of him. Barging in, invading his privacy, mocking him. It took a moment for him to clamp down on those words so that he wouldn’t say them.

“Excuse me, I am tired from the journey,” he said, all his effort going into keeping his voice calm. “If you don’t mind, I am not very good company at the moment.” Stepping towards the door, he opened it wide and stood there, obviously ushering Alex out.

Alex would’ve had to been blind and deaf to miss the anger radiating from Nyasho. It was obvious that he’d hit a nerve, though he didn’t quite know what sore subject he’d prodded. Knowing when to take an exit, he sighed, defeated yet again in his attempts to get to know the elf better, and walked through the door.

As he exited the room, he turned before Nyasho could completely close him out. “Sorry for bothering you,” he said, his tone even and calm. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just be on my way.” The blond turned and started walking down the hallway, back towards his room.

Nyasho wrestled with himself for a few moments, wanting to tell Alex that he was a presumptuous twat who said things he had no business saying when he didn’t know Nyasho. He didn’t know anything about him, and obviously had no sense of propriety whatsoever. When Nyasho had had manners and proper behavior drilled into his head his whole life, he didn’t appreciate this young guest coming in and telling him he was wrong.

Well, fretting over it wouldn’t do him any good. So, wishing to preserve his privacy, he shut his door, making sure it was locked this time.

#main #original characters #roleplay #off on the wrong foot

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aion-rsa · 7 years

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DC Comics: The 15 Biggest Moments of 2016

DC Comics endured yet another year filled with recalibration and revelations. The publisher underwent a “Rebirth” to restore some semblance of sense between the pre-“Flashpoint” era and the New 52, while still keeping the new continuity intact. The product? A year of mind-games, clues and hints as to what actually caused all this fragmentation within the DC universe and just how cohesive it could be if put back together.

RELATED: Marvel Comics: The 15 Biggest Moments Of 2016

Fans also saw the beloved Trinity being pushed to the limits, mentally and physically, with character deaths and returns sprinkled all over their precious pages. With the Justice League and Suicide Squad embedded in an even bigger spotlight due to the burgeoning DC cineverse, creators churned out some pretty monumental moments that truly defined and dealt with DC’s legacy and evolution. Without further adieu, CBR brings to you the biggest DC Comics jaw-droppers from 2016!

SPOILER WARNING: The below contains spoilers for multiple DC Comics titles.

THREE JOKERS

“Justice League” #50 from Geoff Johns and Jason Fabok was one of DC’s most action-packed comics. It wrapped “Darkseid War,” which saw the Justice League barely overcome a resurrected Darkseid, under the control of his daughter, Grail. In the aftermath, a recovering Batman revealed crucial information on the Joker, which he found out before this fiery finale.

In Issue #42, while imbued with the universal knowledge of the Mobius chair, Batman inquired into Joker’s true identity and finally revealed to Hal Jordan that there wasn’t one, but three Jokers. Theories are that the three correspond to different phases in Joker’s career: one resembling the Golden Age Joker, the other resembling the ’70s and ’80s-era Joker, and lastly, the modern one from Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo. Multiple Jokers would explain why he’s always cheating death, why his past is so vague and why his personality shifts so much from silly prankster to psychopath. Fans are eager to see more of this mystery unveiled in 2017 because of the impact it will surely have on the Batman mythos.

DARKSEID DIES (AGAIN)

“Justice League” #50 delivered another emphatic Darkseid death. This was his second demise after the Anti-Monitor and Flash/Black Racer infusion killed him last year in Issue #44. This time, Johns and Fabok scripted Grail as her father’s murderer. With the Anti-Life Equation extracted from the Anti-Monitor, leaving Mobius behind, Grail used it to weaponize Steve Trevor to kill the powerhouse. Eventually, she took back the Equation and merged it with the Omega Sanction (taken from Lex Luthor) into the son of Superwoman and Mazahs (both of the Crime Syndicate), reviving another iteration of her father.

She held full control over this Darkseid and used him to pummel the League. However, her Amazonian mother, Myrina Black, realizing her daughter was becoming a tyrant like her father, urged her to cease her lust for war. With Wonder Woman restraining and calming Grail via her lasso, Myrina beckoned her daughter to rid her slave of the Equation. An emotional, repentant Grail obliged, with her Omega Beams piercing through both her parents, removing the Equation from Darkseid. It was all part of a stormy finale that revealed Superman’s ill-health, Jessica Cruz as a Green Lantern, Lex ruling Apokolips and Wonder Woman’s twin brother.

SUPER SONS BRAWL

“Superman” #10 offset all the dark and gritty clouds that covered the Rebirth era with something a bit more fun in the shape of a pint-sized super-brawl featuring the sons of the World’s Finest. Peter Tomasi and Patrick Gleason constructed a lighthearted story of Batman’s son, Damian, kidnapping Jon Kent, Superman’s (pre-New 52) son, after becoming concerned that the latter couldn’t control his evolving powers. Batman immediately chastised Damian upon finding out, only for a peeved Superman to come crashing through the Batcave, angry that Jon was whisked away without permission.

As both fathers worked out their differences and began testing Jon’s DNA for abnormalities, the kids apparently reached a truce through Alfred and their love of animals. However, Damian’s constant antagonizing brought a truly hilarious moment that saw a fed-up Jon punch the volatile Robin in the gut for his insults about the youth’s emerging powers. They ended up scrapping only for their fathers to break it up with looks of disapproval. Jon’s punch was certainly a laugh-out-loud moment that sets the stage for their “Super Sons” book, slated for a February 2017 release.

THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN BOOMERANG

“Suicide Squad” #2 threw us for a loop when it took Captain Boomerang (Digger Harkness) off the table at the hands of General Zod. Fans were shocked that Rob Williams and Jim Lee scripted his death, especially after the Rogue’s breakout role in David Ayer’s film. On a mission with the team under Rick Flag’s watch, Squad members Harley Quinn, Deadshot, Killer Croc, Katana and Enchantress infiltrated an underwater facility housing a cosmic artifact.

After locating their prize and picking up a new teammate, Hack, they found out that it was a portal to the Phantom Zone. Stunned, Flag urged his team to get away as they were in over their heads. However, before a prying Boomerang could escape, Zod promptly dispatched him via heat vision before revealing himself to the Squad. It ended up being a temporary removal as the character returned in Issue #8, thanks to Hack, who revived him from digital entrapment during a prison breakout and riot at Belle Reeve. It was a sigh of relief for his cult following who thought his newfound popularity fell on deaf ears.

THE DEATH OF LOIS AND CLARK

DC swung for the fences when they killed off the New 52 versions of Lois and Clark, making way for the classic versions to take center stage again. The New 52 Superman exited in Tomasi’s “The Final Days of Superman” arc in “Superman” #52, when the icon died from kryptonite poisoning, surrounded by friends and the pre-“Flashpoint” Superman. He exploded and turned to ash, simultaneously emitting energy bolts that powered up both the New 52 Lois and Lana Lang, making way for “Superwoman” #1.

However, Lois’ stint would be short-lived as artist/writer Phil Jimenez killed her off in the same inexplicable manner. She also turned to ash instantly while fighting off a Bizzaro-Superwoman clone belonging to Lex’s sister, Lena; aka, Ultrawoman. On perishing, she hinted that she saw the dead Clark and that she finally understood why he died, leaving Lana alone to carry the mantle. With this Lois dying, the pre-“Flashpoint” Lois decided to take up her identity. It was a bold move to take two big players off the chessboard in this way, but with another Lois and Clark present, fans were already looking to the next chapter (and honestly quite happy to have the return of more familiar faces).

THE “DEATH” OF TIM DRAKE

James Tynion IV and Eddy Barrows delivered quite a stunner to Tim Drake fans, without even following through on killing him. In “Detective Comics” #940, the Bat-family took down Batwoman’s father, Jacob Kane, and his rogue military operation, The Colony. Tim, aka Red Robin, stops Kane’s fleet of weaponized drones by reprogramming them to target himself instead of innocent Gotham citizens. A wounded Tim survived the first strike, only to discover a second unstoppable wave that seemingly destroys him, leaving his staff alone behind.

However, the issue’s big twist is that while he is injured, he is alive, transported to a cell at an unknown location. There, he’s confronted by the same hooded stranger we saw in the “Rebirth” one-shot who’s also been keeping tabs on Superman in “Action Comics.” The mysterious entity, Mr. Oz, cryptically says that because Tim had been “reconnecting threads that could not be reconnected,” he needed to be taken off the playing field. It was a painstaking moment to see Tim expressing hope that his allies will find him, with his fate appearing very bleak as everyone is grieving. It’s hard to come back when no one’s searching for you, though we suspect we’ll see him back in action soon enough.

MAX LORD RETURNS

In terms of being the ruthless megalomaniac we’re accustomed to, Max Lord has remained relatively low-key post-“Flashpoint.” Leading Checkmate, he did battle Brother Eye and the new O.M.A.C., but it’s “Justice League vs. Suicide Squad” that sees him return to his despotic ways in grand fashion. The former League benefactor assembled a third team, filled with villains, and all sharing the objective of taking out the stalwart chief of the Suicide Squad, Amanda Waller… by any means necessary.

It’s exciting to see this conniving attitude once more from the man who once put a bullet through the head of Ted Kord, the original Blue Beetle. He rounded up Lobo, Emerald Empress, Doctor Polaris, Johnny Sorrow, Rustam and Eclipso, to get to Waller, even if it means going through her Task Force X unit or the League themselves. The cold, cruel and bloodthirsty manner in which he broke his team out from The Catacombs prison, using his mind control to turn the guards on themselves, showed that he means business. We can’t wait to see how Joshua Williamson and Jason Fabok craft Lord’s new mission, which, ironically enough perhaps, involves “saving the world.” We’ll believe it when we see it…

I AM SUICIDE

“Batman” #12 by Tom King and Mikel Janin shockingly elaborated on what the arc “I Am Suicide” truly meant. It wasn’t in reference to Batman’s makeshift Suicide Squad that attacked Bane’s Santa Prisca base to extract Psycho Pirate, but rather, a confession to his teammate, Selina Kyle (Catwoman), who was being transferred to Arkham Asylum for allegedly murdering 237 people. In a letter, he told her of a childhood trauma, confiding that he resolved to dedicate his life to crimefighting, only after attempting suicide via razor blade.

It was his way of showing her that there was hope to be reborn, with the admission painted against a backdrop of Batman overcoming an army of attackers. It was a daring revelation by King that spoke volumes of the eternal struggle raging within Bruce Wayne, overcoming despair to find a real purpose. It also showed that he was just as invested as Selina was, in fighting for her life and her very soul, adding another dimension to their complicated love story. The breathtaking visuals made the experience all the richer and continued to show the caped crusader in an inspirational, if decidedly more human light.

INFANTISEID

In “Darkseid War,” every issue raised the stakes, with Issue #50 being the most provocative. It’s not often we see Darkseid killed, let alone twice, and then used as a pawn, but Grail managed to play her father like a fiddle. She manipulated the Anti-Monitor, Crime Syndicate, Steve Trevor and to some extent, the Justice League, in aid of achieving her goals. That comes as no surprise, given how focused she was since Myrina escaped Themyscira with her and raised her as an instrument of war.

In a twist-filled finale, Grail finally grew compassion and understood that she didn’t have to inherit her father’s destructive ways, releasing him from the grasp of the Anti-Life Equation, seemingly at the cost of both her parents. However, she escaped with Darkseid, who was reduced to an infant, and in the closing scenes, was seen soothing him. She told the child how she intended to raise him so that he has a second chance, away from his destiny to conquer and rule with an iron fist. While Grail promised to love him, the cutaway showing the child’s glowing-red eyes was ominous to say the least, hinting at just how much of Darkseid’s power — and demeanor — the child retained.

THE THEMYSCIRA LIE

Greg Rucka and Liam Sharp delivered a game-changer in “Wonder Woman” #11, wrapping “The Lies” arc. Diana’s journey to self-discovery came to a screeching halt as she found out what had been haunting her recently. It was revealed that the Themyscira trips she’d been making in the past were to a fake one and upon discovering the real island, it turned out to be abandoned and derelict, leaving her clueless as to who put up this facade that kept her in the dark all this time.

She and Steve Trevor were left baffled at the run-down, low-tech state of the real island. It was a heartbreaking moment that dealt her a huge blow because of how important it was to her heritage and eventual destiny. In reality, Wonder Woman’s never had a homecoming until now and it’ll be intriguing to see how she traverses across dimensions to try to find the fake Themyscira she’s familiar with and the Amazonians she calls family. With the mirage revealed, fans can’t wait to see what is actually going on, and just who has been messing with the routes whenever she tries to go back.

BRUCE WAYNE RETURNS

Following the Joker’s “Endgame,” Batman was taken off the table, with Bruce being reborn without his memories or crime-fighting skills. James Gordon was then installed as a police-sanctioned Batman, with a high-tech armored suit. However, Scott Snyder brought Bruce back as Batman, reinvigorated like never before. His body was fully-healed and it was indeed a rebirth as he even boasted a cocky sense of humor.

In the issue before, Bruce broke the hearts of his girlfriend, Julia, and Alfred, by stating he wanted to download a copy of his brain back into his body: a contingency plan he always kept in case he died. Alfred didn’t want him erasing his life of happiness, finally, just to go back to the cowl. Jules, on the other hand, eventually got the process started, as she knew the city needed their guardian. Issue #50 saw his return, in a quippy exchange with Bat-Gordon, as he began his retaliation for Bloom’s assault on the city. Bruce stemmed the threat and a hospitalized Gordon would go back to his old job, inspired after realizing just why vigilantes needed to operate outside the law.

GREEN LANTERN HEAVEN

“Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps” #10 told some of the most stellar stories Robert Venditti’s written since dabbling with the mythos. His current “Rebirth” arc saw Hal return as a Green Lantern, forging a new ring from his own will. He was also literally changing into energy, becoming willpower itself after going on the run with the Krona Gauntlet to take the blame for all the Corps’ misdeeds. Re-powered, he ended up fighting a rejuvenated Sinestro in a battle that seemingly cost both their lives, which led Hal to the Emerald Space, aka Green Lantern heaven.

Rafa Sandoval beautifully illustrated Hal’s inspirational meeting with his successor, Abin Sur, as well as emotional moments with deceased Lanterns. It featured heartfelt messages from Katma Tui to John Stewart, and from Tomar-Re to his son, Tomar-Tu, reinvigorating Hal just before he was plucked back to the land of the living by the White Lantern, Kyle Rayner. This issue also offered immense fan service to any Corps fan, setting the stage for Hal to lead an assault on Larfleeze, who had imprisoned the Corps that disappeared and whom Hal was searching for at the end of “The Lost Army.”

SUPERMAN RETURNS

When the New 52 Superman died, he had help in his final mission from the pre-“Flashpoint” Superman, who was living in hiding with his wife, Lois, and their son, Jon. In passing, he made it clear the world needed a Superman and the old-school version decided to take up the mantle once more. In Tomasi and Gleason’s “Superman” #2, he found himself in full, public swing; clean-shaven and back in uniform, just like the good old days, helping out a uranium-powered submarine and its crew.

After he realized that there was no regeneration matrix in the Fortress of Solitude to bring the New 52 Superman back in this universe, vintage Clark knew that it was up to him to replace the hero, not just in Metropolis, but with the Justice League, too. Seeing him take flight and assist like a true boy-scout was both nostalgic and endearing in a way the character hadn’t been in some time, enhanced by how he used the task as a lesson to teach Jon about being a superhero. It was an incredible moment not just for the character, but for DC Comics, as the old Supes triumphantly donned the cape and emerged out of the shadows for truth, justice and the American way once more.

THE WATCHMEN COMETH

Speculation has been rampant that it’s Doctor Manhattan who’s been tinkering with the DC universe all this time, taking a valuable 10 years away from it to create the New 52. While that’s yet to be confirmed in the comics, the “Rebirth” one-shot planted a lot of seeds and colossal moments indicating that the “Watchmen” universe did indeed have an integral hand in shaping things. Johns wrote off Pandora, who many believed was responsible for the era after “Flashpoint” in a manner similar to how Manhattan killed Rorschach, more than suggesting it was his semi-divine hand that had something to do with the soft reboot.

Also, the issue showed Batman finding the blood-tainted smiley face button associated with the Comedian, as well as an ending that depicted what appeared to be Manhattan conversing with Ozymandias while fixing a watch on Mars: all signature stamps of Alan Moore’s epic. Other hints include Manhattan (allegedly) obliterating Owlman and Metron in “Justice League” #50 in what seems to be his distinctive style of dispatching enemies, as well as Mr. Oz’s monitoring and potential manipulation of Superman, not to mention his kidnapping of Tim Drake. With Johns teasing at writing some “Watchmen”-related stuff in 2017, prepare yourselves for even bigger shockwaves when the truth comes out.

WALLY WEST RETURNS

Wally West’s return was one that made grown geeks cry. Taken out the equation after “Flashpoint,” the “Rebirth” one-shot saw him trying to find a tether back to the present reality and away from the Speed Force. He first haunted the Batcave before journeying to the love of his life, Linda Park, but she too had no memory of him. Unsuccessful in finding that anchor point back, he had an emotional last-ditch interaction with Barry Allen. Barry finally remembered Wally and pulled him back into current continuity, with Wally revealing that some omnipotent being — believed to be Doctor Manhattan — warped their reality into the New 52.

Both embraced in a tearjerker moment that had fans rejoicing at the sight of seeing the Flash duo united once more. Wally was younger and wearing the Kid Flash costume, but was clearly relieved to be back to try to fix things. Later, given an upgrade in costume, he’d continue to find clues in “Titans” as to who’s been toying with everyone’s lives. What his return really represented, however, wasn’t just someone to help solve a lingering DC mystery; it offered promise that DC’s universe can be fixed, reshaped into what it should rightfully be.

What do you think was DC’s biggest moment in 2016? Sound off in the comments!

The post DC Comics: The 15 Biggest Moments of 2016 appeared first on CBR.com.

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