#mohtask

As a rule, Harley doesn't enjoy meals with his family. Meals with his extended family on the other hand? Harley abhors those, but one will always stick out in his mind. Harley was 11 years old when his Uncle married his Aunt and even from the beginning he loathed the woman. She was far too prim to marry his mechanic of an Uncle in his opinion and far too stuck up to possibly have a place in the Fords family. To say the least, the rehearsal dinner wasn't a pleasant experience.

His mother made him wear a stiff, itchy designer suit, and carry a sleek black cane that was more decorative than functional. Even before Harley got there he was convinced that this whole experience was going to be miserable. The three of them walked into this huge, fancy steakhouse that his Aunt-to-be had rented out. Every person had a glass of champagne in their hands - even Harley was holding one in his spare hand.

His aunt cleared her throat and said, “I’d like to welcome you all to the rehearsal dinner and thank you all for your support.” Harley rolled his eyes as everyone else clapped politely. This announcement was followed by the typical mingling before an overly complicated meal. The whole family was seated at three long tables in the center of the restaurant and of course the meal came out in courses.

He fumbled with the silverware and caught his aunt sneering at his awkwardness several times. Harley ignored it focusing solely on eating the salad that had been placed in front of him in a way that would be deemed appropriate. One bit though would prove to be far more than enough. The salad was gritty, and upon further inspection was made up mostly of flowers and petals. He groaned inwardly and forced himself to finish half of the salad.

MOH Prompt #17: Rude Awakening

Fog drifted through the air slowly, covering everything in sight -- the students, the teachers, the Dean in his weird coma.  Héloïse stood by a lake, lifting the water with a slight twitch of her arms. She had complete power over it.  She could feel the power surging through her and she never wanted it to end.

Héloïse woke with a start, immediately feeling that something was different. What a strange dream, she thought to herself. Not the fog, of course -- that was real, as was the Dean's coma, but the water control? That part was odd, no question about it. It was like something out of a movie, but that was ridiculous.

Feeling restless, she decided to get up and get a drink of water from the bathroom. (She almost rejected that idea, but decided that would be stupid. It was just a dream. Besides, it wasn't like she could just avoid water until she forgot about the dream.)  She almost wished that she could, though, when she tested the water temperature with her finger and it froze. 

Héloïse let out a shriek, but put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound so as not to wake her roommate. The water was frozen. Literally. The water literally froze when she touched it. What the hell? Clearly she was still dreaming. It may be be winter, but that wasn't a thing that happened. It just wasn't.

Remind Tara again why she wants to be an architect? Honestly, math is having a blast kicking her ass! She has spent the past few hours (OK, half an hour) slaving over her math homework, but she still felt as though she was doing something wrong.

But then, a miracle happened: She finally got the answer to one of the toughest problems! Grinning, she wrote down her answer in her notebook before slamming her hands on the table, closing her eyes. "HALLELUJAH!" But then, a weird scent came to her.

Keeping her eyes closed, she sniffed. Smoke? What the...? But when Tara opened her eyes, she screamed. "My homework!" No no no no! It's on fire! She worked so hard on it...

Wait... Fire?! Raising her hands up, her eyes widened as she saw the orange and yellow blames on her hands and arms. "Oh my God..." she whispered, in shock. It... It wasn't hurting her. She felt perfectly fine. But this has never happened before...

It all started with a dream...

He was flying through the storm, the rain from the clouds above him splattering his face with the gentle fall of rain while loud claps of thunder erupted around him. His flying was reckless as he dodged bursts of lightning, feeling the tiny electric shocks emitting from each one he so narrowly passed. He didn't know where he was going. There wasn't even a real sense of urgency as he flew, he just knew he had to watch out for the sparks.

Then, suddenly, he was on the sidewalk in his old neighborhood and the storm was raging above him. The water was still on his face, still in his clothes, and he knew that that wasn't a good sign. He remembered back to their old swings in the backyard with the chains holding up the swings. He recalled playing on them, getting the occasional shock of the chain links, as the swing set was close to some power lines a little ways down the road. He remembered the zap at his touch, how his hand would recoil in fear and in pain, and then he would get a little bit used to it.

The freshman was jolted back into the present when right in front of him, a huge bolt of lightning struck. It blasted him backwards, leaving him stunned. But this time, the bolt stayed, blasting down into the ground like some sort of vortex. Pascal forced himself off of the ground, a jumbled mess at first, but as his eyes met with the beam of light, he felt himself suddenly drawn to it.

There was a sense of power seeping into his skin, an energy, an electric tug. Before he knew it, he was walking towards it, each step stronger and braver than the last. And then, he was standing directly in front of it, little wires of electricity stretching out from the beam and licking his skin, his clothes. Curiously, he held up his hand and every so slightly pushed it forward until it was in the blast.

His eyes snapped open as he jolted awake, gasping for breath as he woke from the dream. The movement of his flannel pajama pants caused a little blue shock in the dark. He jumped at the sight and let out a small noise, but then suddenly the whole room burst into strings of vibrant blue, electricity shooting through the air. He sucked in a huge gasp as shocks of energy coursed through him. His eyes glowed a vibrant electric blue as well as his hands which shook tremendously. He closed his hands slowly into fists and the lightning stopped immediately, leaving him coughing and wheezing on his bed.

He looked down at his shaking hands, terrified to open them again.

[Getting superpowers]

Cutting across yards was quite a rude thing to do.

Alex didn't seem to know that. Or he didn't seem to care. Either way, he rarely got caught, and was never reprimanded when he was, thanks to his smile and a quick explanation about how he had to get home to his mother and sister to help out or do his homework. So he cut across yards, almost every day, to and from school.

Honestly, if you had to choose a vice, you had to admit that wasn't such a bad one. It showed impatience, maybe, but at least he got to places on time. And of course, he was on his way to school, looking to be on time when something odd happened; he fell.

Alexander wasn't clumsy. Of course, he slipped, as all people do, at times when things were wet or icy or in his way, but this was different. The grass on the yard he was cutting across was now wrapped around his ankle, preventing him from going anywhere on time.

He ripped the grass easily by pulling his foot upward, but at this point it was wrapped around his wrists. He struggled, standing and ripping grass off of his limbs until he was off the lawn. Looking back, the yard was now torn up and ugly looking. So, naturally, Alex ran.

This time, he avoided the lawns. Whenever his foot accidentally hit one, it was tangled up, or weeds would shoot up from under his foot. It was really starting to freak him out. In fact, flowers started to appear in the cracks of the sidewalks. Only little dandelions, but still, were they there before?

Maybe it was the fog causing this. Maybe it had some weird fertilizing quality to it that they'd discover later. Maybe Alex was just dreaming. Either way, at least the school didn't have that many plants.

   Harley had always loved fire, ever since he was a little boy. It was quite the rude awakening when he received a third degree chemical burn that covered both of his hands resulting in experimental skin graphing. Apparently or rather obviously something went terribly wrong, whether it was the combination of medication or the skin itself but ever since then Harley hasn't been able to interact with fire without some rather confusing results. 

Every fire Harley comes in contact with turns freezing cold, the same with any fire that he lights. He hasn't told anyone this but he's found a non-conventional way to start one of these freezing-fires. His hands- which is a pain in the butt, and absolutely impossible to control are able to light these fires if he wants- and maybe sometimes when he doesn't.

This whole 'superpower' thing is a super pain in the ass, because it means he can no longer participate in metal work. Now, if that isn't a giant fuck you from the fates, Harley doesn't know what is. He had finally found something he truly loved only to have it ripped away from him because of someone else's mistakes.