BlooodyMoon

“Chariot” “Yes” The response falls so easy from Law mouth. “Oh” The ribbon flickers in front of him and then no more. He can’t breathe anymore, it wraps around his neck, to be hanged, to die. He grasps it and pulls and pulls only to end up scratching his skin. Blood, warm and familiar and way to much to be from simple nails. The Ribbon around his neck only winds tighter.

And the one thing he could always rely on -after Corazon death-  his powers they are gone. In his bones he knows without being told that he can’t use them, but still “Room” and and nothing. He doesn’t want to die.

Not when he finally was able to free Corazon. After finding out that he was still alive. Surviving all those years as pirate, between being hunted and hunting, making friends and enemies. After Doflamingo, after Florenz. After learning to be a doctor. Not after his journey. But slowly all goes black. No. NO!

He should be dead already; it was to long without air for a human to survive!

He falls to the ground.

“You are not the first to rip a ribbon from me and you won’t be the last. But you proven to be the part. To me, to yourself. It just never is that pleasant for them or me.”

Law still catches his breath, when he looks up to the person with blue skin and dress made out of ribbons, the same kind like Corazon’s, real but somehow out of this world.  Like the one around his sword, the one that tried to strangle him!

“Like I said you first had to prove yourself. The Giving is normally the first act, not the second.”

“Who are you?” Law pushes himself on his knees, his gaze turning to the ground, he has the feeling if he looks at them to closely he will already know and then what would have been the point of asking?

“You already know” Law looks up to see that the person is smiling at him, their dress gone, reviling more of the blue skin. It seemed to have the color of the deep ocean but after blinking, he almost thought he was back in Florenz, gazing over the river. Their hair was the ribbons, these unreal and so real seeming ribbons who floated around her in a relaxing pattern, almost unnatural smoothing. He notes their apparent intersex nature with the vulva and flat chest. The ribbons must have been wrapped around their body to seem like a dress.

“The World” They hold out their hand and in it is the ribbon that that tried to strangle him, the one who wrapped around his sword, giving him the power to tear away Corazon’s strings, his!

“And you are The one who made the journey, they one who progressed. Enduring pain and spilling your own blood, you worked and succeeded. You sailed along the see and under it. But now you have your pullers.” The panther and leopard! The ones who had bitten throw Corazon’s strings. He felt grateful and linked with them and the next moment they were besides him.

“You already know their names” He did. “And you know yours!” He gripped her hand and his Ribbon.

“The Chariot!”

It was a clear cold day, far under the freezing point with clear blue skies and almost no wind. The perfect weather to go ice skating on the frozen lake just outside Central. AND Mick hated it. Hated it more than he could put into words – and if it would include mostly fucks – but not as much as hell but that kind of was the point of hell. Ultimately it wasn’t “HELL were your mildly uncomfortable” but “HELL there is no worse place to go”.

However he still was OUT, like OUT OF THE HOUSE and packed in five layers of clothes. From his hands hanged a set of borrowed skates from the quickly set up shop, which appeared whenever it was cold enough for quick cash. Mick quickly walked around the lake, pacing families and group of teenagers trying to get blackmail material on video, until he is in the more remote spot where he knows Cold would be. There might not be as recognizable without their costumes, but being spotted always ruined a stress free day.

Len was pacing aimless around the ice, half lingering in the few happy moment of his past, whenever he and Lisa skated together and half forcing himself to get a clear head and plan the next heist. The cold air always helped him think.

A frown appears on his face when he spoted a man standing at the spot where he changed his shoes. He intentionally had chosen this spot to have a trouble free day. The skates picked up pace and the man appearance get clearer with each time the skates glide over the ice. The second he is five strides from the edge, his hand ready on the cold gun,  hidden under the long coat -just to be safe- when he finally pics up on the familiarly of the frame, packed in more layer of clothes to be comfortable with.

“Mick?”

“He Len, care if I join you?”

And isn’t that a sight? Heat Wave in ice skates. “Sure.” Len glanced to his shoes and notice that they now stand neatly together and not like before placed wherever he put them down, Mick’s stand neatly next to them.

Mick hadn’t actually planned to skate. He had thought that someone would have to held a complicated named gun to his head before he would even consider ice skating. Borrowing the skates had been to raise no suspicions to get the map of the lakes where the safe areas to skate where marked. He went to the most remote and dangerous place because with a cold gun breaking ice wasn’t a problem to worry about. But when he had seen Cold skating on the ice and a kind of rarely experience feeling -a bit adventures- had overcome him and before his rational mind had caught up he had laced the skates. It still didn’t mean he had a plan how to not fall on his ass.

Somebody once said that it was like roller skating (which he had done a few times in his teenager years but he had been more mediocre in it but it defiantly was better than nothing). When he tried to move forward on the ice it became clear that, oh fuck, it totally wasn’t the same or he had no clear memory of roller skating with may also be true or both for that matter. His arm circulated more and more with each time he lifted each skate just an inch over the ice. And in the moment he were he was pretty sure he would say hi to the ice, hands grapped his under arms.

“Easy there”. Cold had watched a lot of amusing things in his life, most of them included Flash falling - mostly literally-, but watching Heat Wave trying to hold his balance as he barely moved an inch forward was just undefinable.

Still grinning he quickly passed the distance between the two of them and steadied Mick as it became clear that Mick would hurt himself. After his partner in crime seemed to not fall over the next moment he began skating backwards, the words “let me show you” hanging between them. They skated a few small rounds, he of course having no problems with skating backwards, connected by the mutual grab on the under arms. Feeling confident enough in his teaching abilities he let go. But Mick wasn’t a bit better than before, he may be even worse, which was considered impossible.

Len let go and Mick lost balance the second it happened. In a fit of “not wanting to fall on the cold cold ice” he grapped the nearest thing, that were Lens arms. Even throw his gloves and the crinkled coat he could feel Lens tensing upper arms as he pulled himself into balance. Mick leaned heavily on Len.  Their noses almost touched.

And there was the feeling again and this time not just small candlelight in his gut and more like somebody set his whole body in flames and this time  wasn’t just adventures it was, was mixed with something like fondness and maybe, maybe even something he didn’t  want to name yet. And Len’s lips were so stupid cold, but also a bit warm in itself, like lips sometimes tended to be.

Len was shocked about the outcome of the situation, before he thought to himself “Why the fuck not”. Mick lips were even in these cold temperatures warm and pleasant against his and he probably should have cut Piper more slake. This just felt right. He quickly gripped the fabric of Micks jacket to steady them both and of course to get Mick closer.

Gloved fingers stroked over his cheeks and Len used the opportunity to lick the other ones lips to get to the more fun part. Len didn’t expect that Mick to ipps – or whatever you call that- and pulling away with such a force that he managed to lose balance and felt backward on the ice, Cold right on top of him.

“What the FUCK?!”

Mick looked at him, his face as red as one of his fires. “I didn’t expect that”

Sam doesn’t know where to start. They have a theme going and even how much he hated Roscoe’s and Hartley’s disregard for it at least they wore the straps and bowties. James looks just, just like he has to burn that shirt and if there weren’t already costumers in the shop he would like to just melt down or at least throw a fit or better throw something at James.

Or at least fire James, but he know he can’t do that because no matter how annoying James is, and there are no words HOW much he is, he is even better with the hair colors. Or he can be if he isn’t a totally dick, but at least he convinced all his victims of it before, and “it was because of his Italian accent” at least doesn’t hold up in cord. He doesn’t want to repeat the Sweeney Todd incidence.

He tries to breath and calm down, at least a little bit. He can go over to Desmond’s and get his coffee spiked by Alvin, yeah that sounded like a good idea.

Hartley is working on the playlist for the day and Mark is actually talking and advice a costumer - Sam is not sure if he goes with the theme, but his t-shirt is so far open he can only guess the stripes. In the back Mick is straightened his costumers hair after he his usually suggestion to go bald, were shut down, more by Len than by the costumer.  So yeah he can totally go to Desmond’s bakery next door and then Roy walks in and he motherfucking loses it.

Hartley knows that the decision to sneak in Star Labs, to at least try and prevent a catastrophe, was a bad one when he is hit by a shockwave -clearly from an explosion and wasn’t that exactly what he told Harris?!- and he flies back and probably will end with a few broken rips  and then Hartley screams but he can’t hear himself over the pitches in his ears.

His fingers dig deep in his skull but he can’t feel them tearing the skin apart. Everything is numb! Everything except his ears and it won’t stop. It’s like the worst tinnitus, but IT JUST WON’T STOP. He rolls around, but no position makes it better, and he gets himself on his feet, there is too much pain.

His blood is pumping throw his head and flowing out of his ears. Tears are making their way out of his eyes and mix with the blood, but he can’t remember when he started, he didn’t hear himself starting sobbing. He can’t hear himself doing anything.

He screams again and again, until his throat is sore but he still can’t hear it. Can’t hear anything except the screams. The screams of the hundreds of people he must have failed for not convincing Harrison, HIS mentor for the better!

He long stopped screaming when the paramedics arrive. One of them pulls his hands from his head and he sees that his nails are broken and full of blood.   But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care how long his tears are already dried up or how long ago he couldn’t scream anymore. He just cares about how to make it stop. MAKE IT STOP!

The first time

It was Christmas season in Central City and the Rogues all dealt with bad family memories in their own way. It had snowed the night before, which wasn’t Mardons fault, and Mick and Len fought over getting him to either increase it or to “tornado it out”. Most Rogues had already learned their lesson not to go outside if they didn’t want to get dragged into James snowball fight. James threw snowballs at everybody who dared to pass by in the hopes to provoke them. There was nothing funnier than angry and cold colleges when the ground was white and he himself had a snowball fort. Except for Captain Cold, because Trickster may liked taking risks, but starting a snowball fight with a guy who was in possession of a Cold Gun, not even he dared that. After a while Piper came to the hideout, totally oblivious to the snowball threat. James slung his arm over his shoulders, asking about his heist, apparently with some guy named Fury, before he struck out and half threw, half pressed the snowball he had hidden behind his back into Piper’s face. He laughed as he airwalked to his snow fort as Piper proceeded to make his own ammo.

The second time

Piper’s time at the FBI was filled with dull colors and a lot of work and planning. But it helped a lot to suppress memories he didn’t want to remember. It got harder and harder as the christmas season started and the FBI building transformed into something festive. At least it wasn’t that macabre, still being the FBI building, but already the small christmas tree in the corner awoke memories of a Christmas he spent with his family and the ones he didn’t. Not all memories were good, but the ones in the last years, when he was reformed and his family finally had accepted him and had allowed him to bury Jenny under gifts, where a treasure but also hurt in the worst way possible.

One day after snowfall, he found himself with James Agent Jesse on the roof discussing the handling of Mark the Weather Wizard, and for a short time, watching the snow clad city with all the bright lights, he got thrown back to the time where he and James had a different kind of friendship, when James had been the Trickster and always been there for fun and pranks on their cost. Piper bent down and grabbed a hand full of snow and rubbed it in James face. As revenge. Only moments after he saw the now wet and bit ruffled hair of James FBI cut – who fixed his suit as nothing had happened-, he realized that these times were long over.

The third time

Piper could maybe stand being chained to James, the man he always had deep affection for, if there wouldn’t be the horrible gay jokes. He didn’t know what made the Trickster such an asshole, at least in that regard, kind of an asshole he had always been, but Piper only wanted him to shut up.

They were in a small city in the north covered in way too much snow, which had made sleeping half in the open an unpleasant affair. And when Trickster was mid-sentence of another offensive joke, which hurt Piper more than he wanted to show, he grabbed some snow from the ground and shoved it into Trickster’s face. Maybe that would shut him up for a while.

The fourth time

He was back, he was back, and all the false charges had been dropped. It felt like it wasn’t real and half of him expected that it was a mind manipulation of Neron. His memories of coming back to life were fuzzy at the moment, but if somebody could manage to trick his way out of the afterlife than it was him. Now he just had to really come back, and that meant to see Piper again. Piper who probably was mad as hell (and who could resent him for that, after what he had to pull off to keep him moving on the run). Maybe he could get away with it because it was christmas season. Forgiveness and so on.

Pump, pump. James could hear his own heart beating against his chest as he stood in front of Piper’s door (at least according to the address he got from his database hack) and it didn’t got better after he rang the bell. As he noticed that door would open his brain went into overdrive and he got on his knee and filled his hand with snow. When the door was fully open he rubbed it into Pipers face and yelled “Surprise!”

Piper looked at him in shock, after had rubbed of most of the snow. Okay, maybe not the best move. And then he sank to the ground, the melting snow was joined by tears, but at least now the other man could blame the red eyes on the snow.

Piper held his arm out. “Come here you stupid idiot!”

James hugged him in an instant.

The fifth time

This stupid idiot! Just coming back! He was so stupidly happy. After all he went through; he got his wish for Christmas fulfilled, even if he would have preferred a less snowy encounter. But if that was the cost for getting his present early, he was willing to pay that price. He still held onto James like a life line and the Trickster surprisingly did the same thing. At least James had gotten him to his feet. After a while he found himself able to loosen his grip, and then James looked at him with his Trickster grin. Oh hell no.

“YOU STUPID IDIOT! WHAT WERE ALL THESE JOKES FOR?” He pushed Trickster back into his front lawn and pushed Trickster face forcefully into the snow. Served him right.

And the time they didn’t

Piper woke up, because James leaned over him with his “I totally have a plan and you won’t like it, but I still will get you to do it” grin over him.

“Do you want to build a snowman?”

”Arghh” Piper pushed his face deeper into his pillow but it didn’t muffle the

“It doesn’t have to be a snowman.”

John only saw red and that not in a bloody metaphorical sense but because the christmas lights had been broken in the fight between him and Ron or whatever possesses or manipulates Ron. Because the whole room alternates between being filled out by red or green light, the monsters piercing red eyes aren’t that menacing. 

The red blood dripping from Ron broken face and the stab wound, with John had to shockingly realize didn’t seem to affect the monster at all, is. The only thing at least slowing down it was cutting of his air supply. So that was what John bloody did, what he had to do, because he wanted to live, to survive, even if Ron was his friend, his mate, his …, that wasn’t important in the moment.   At the moment it only was important that he didn’t lose his grip around the monsters neck, even if it is also Ron’s neck and the tears dripping from his broken nose mixed with the blood on his friends beautiful face.

Moments before he can feel Ron’s body go limp he can see Ron’s own eyes again, grey eyes that look up to him in horror and emotions John can’t place and doesn’t want to place.

John sits up from the others body chest and falls next to it. He looks at his hands, better his hands than Ron’s lifeless face. His hands are full of blood, in both senses. He could swear that the blood looks different than from a normal bar fight. But what does he knows, he never killed somebody -until now- so it maybe does. His jeans are soaked with blood not made better that he is sitting in a blood puddle, but he can’t get himself to move. He has to move, get away, he doesn’t want to get questioned by the cops, doesn’t know how to begin to explain, and it is as sure as hell that they won’t believe him no matter what.

He sits there which feels like hours until he hears the door open and he should flee the scene, but he still can’t get his legs to move only to look up to see who has entered.   It’s the woman from outer town, the woman he spoke earlier too. He opens his mouth to explain, but she just raises her eyebrow and says “I’m impressed.”

The first time Len meets Mick, it is in a strip club and they end up arguing over who had been the best act. They both throw their punches as security wants to escort them out. He insists that the second girls act still was a lot better which gets him a laugh and a name from the stranger. Mick Rory. It wasn’t a strange name, but clearly humanized for the Mystical Creature he couldn’t place. The guy was pale with black streaks on the patches of skin you could see. He would have asked, if the guy wouldn’t have run off and he didn’t want to scream after him, might get him unnecessarily punched. It’s a sensitive topic for some, even if he never could understand it, he was a huskey-zoon and everybody could see it. Len expects them to never meet again, but faith apparently has other plans.

He is new to the Gem Cities, but he soon learns that Keystone City is the magical counterpart to Central, a relic of old time, where mystical creatures and humans had been separated by the government. Of course, nowadays you could go wherever you pleased, officially, but practically both sides still liked the river that separated them. Ironically while the decent cities “tolerated and respected” each other, the real people who spoke and worked with people from the other riverside were the crocks and black market dealers. But at first, you had to get contacts. Leonard was long enough in the business to know that just stealing stuff would get you nothing if you hadn’t the right contacts to sell it to. And apparently the best contact you could make at “Tricksters” was the manager, a Jesse James, not a Mage but also not Mystical Creature, only able to tinker with magical objects. Len wondered how he managed to survive in this kind of neighborhood in a magical city. But apparently he was the guy you had to go to, so that was what he did. He didn’t suspected to see Mick leaving the shop he was about to enter. Okay, the strip club hadn’t been in the best area of town, but he hadn’t suspected that the other guy also had his fingers in criminal activity. He had to smile, he should have known from the right hook.

His counted his conversation with the “Trickster” as a win, he didn’t punch the guy, no matter how fucking annoying he had gotten. In the end after he had gotten all the important information -for now- he asked about Mick, what his deal was and Len got an answer he hadn’t expected. Mick Rory was a forest nymph (he actually had laughed out loud at that part of the conversation, because “You kidding, they’re normally like green and don’t leave their home or area or whatever.”) but one with a pyromaniac problem, with had lead him to burn down his forest with the help of fire fairies. At that part Len had almost chocked, because he did know enough about nymphs to know that their nature area was like their parents and burning them down wasn’t quite the thing you expect from a nymph. But after he had found out, it made sense. Mick didn’t look like a nymph because he looked like burned wood and earth, the same things that now his home was made of. In the end he went to the strip club, half hoping to see the other man there.

Different relationship were unexchangeable, always were, it just laid in the nature of it. So of course he didn’t thought much of it in the beginning, when it felt different lying on a couch watching Animaniacs with James than with Earl. Not that Earl had watched cartoons, ever. The couch had been used for other purposes. With Earl it had been much more physical not just in bed but also with spending time together or the times he had decided to be romantic. Like when he had tricked Piper into thinking that they would go on a heist but had lead him to a park with a picnic.

With Trickster, they often laid or played together and talked about all kinds of things like their days, plans, how Digger had been an idiot again and personal stuff. But with James he never had the feeling that he had to share if he didn’t want to. He always got the feeling that James cared and wanted to know, but with Earl it had never been “How was your day?” but “So what did you do today?” They both had shared everything. Earl had made clear that he wanted to know everything and gone mad and accused Piper that would do something behind his back or didn’t love him enough, if he hadn’t voiced some things. That had, along with other things, caused that Fury had tried, out of defiance, to pull their last job alone and went to prison. His ex-boyfriend had wanted to prove that he was as good as a Rogue and Piper could trust him with their plans, totally missing the point.

In the end, it had been better that way, because it had led to the drunken party and stupid bets and Trickster (or at that point Trixie, and really nobody had realized that it was James under all the make up?) and kissing him for the first time. And shortly after a lot more had followed. Now almost a year later they as good as lived together.

Surprisingly Gio also shared his personal crap and stupid stories, but also admitting that sometimes he keeps things for himself. Harley did know that he could trust the conman’s words more than Fury’s. At the same time he felt more free and closer to the man lying in his arms playing with his game boy obnoxiously.

“Something on your mind?” James looked up at him.

“Nothing important”

“Ray! Ray don’t do this. Justice 9 needs to stay together.“ It was a desperate attempt and Hank know it, but what else could he do? His hand gripped Ray’s shoulder, finger clutching into the fabric that he did know almost better than his Power Lantern Suit. He didn’t want to let go, he never wanted to let it go, not after all the lost they already had experience.

“We already lost Optiman to Superdoomsday. I won’t lose you too. “. Rays placed his warm hand on his chest. A gesture of comfort and love. “Hank. They need a geek for this. These guys don’t know their DC from their Mayor Comics.”

He could feel the speed force electrics vibrating over his skin and smoothing the rhythmus of his heart and he did know in that moment that he had lost that argument. Ray always uses these gestures to comfort and persuade him. He didn’t even know if it was a tactic or unconscious. He never had asked and he may never have the chance again

“And they need that Powertorch of yours here. I will be fine. ”

Deep down he did know that those actions were the right thing to do. There life was dangerous and what they did was important, but this situation, this dimensional crisis, he just wanted to wrap both of them in a powerblanket to protect them from harm. But they were Heroes, he could never do that. “Ray. Don’t go running into trouble. Promise! “ He tried to force the same will into his words like when he used his Torch, but after their loses even he didn’t want to use his will to fight hopeless fights. He just wanted to protect the people closest to his heart.

He placed his hand over Rays who drew smoothing circles over his check. He entangled their fingers together and looked up right in Rays beautiful blue eyes. Blue eyes that were full of hope and a strive for justice.

Hank had to smile, before he pulled Ray closer and meet his lover’s lips with his own. The kiss was sweet and short but time seemed to slow down around them and with kissing a speedster that wasn’t impossible.