#ranty writes

~~~~

Bertrand nodded his agreement, before shifting into what was unmistakably a bloodhound; he gave several pointed sniffs, tilted his head back to let out a booming bay, then shifted back into a camel and advanced toward Sam with his fangs dripping green saliva.

Spectra quickly turned to Desiree, her smile never faltering. “Desiree, dear, don’t you think the girl would be more, well, agreeable if I were to feast on her a bit, hmm?” She floated around the much larger ghost, placing her hands on her shoulders and smirking. “I know how you do love granting wishes, and well, just think about how much more likely she’d be to make a wish!” She looked down at Sam with false sympathy, shaking her dark head. “Humans are such fragile things. Bring them down a bit and they’ll wish for anything to get out of it!”

Sam knew they were fucked the moment Desiree grinned wickedly, but she simply couldn’t react fast enough to the situation. She tried to get a shot off with her Fenton Bazooka about the time Tucker yelled her name in worry, but the genie ghost snapped her fingers and the boy let out a sound of alarm.

“Hey!” Tucker gasped, and Sam became more worried about his well-being than getting at the two ghosts, instead whirling around in haste with his name falling from her lips. The techno-geek was being restrained by the gaggle of harem girls, all of whom now looked devious as they held onto him with vice-like grips, forked tongues hissing out of their mouths as they obeyed Desiree’s sudden change in mood; the Fenton Thermos was resting in the sand next to Tuck’s boot, having obviously been dropped when the ghosts pinned him.

Panic welled up inside of Sam.

“Bertrand!” Spectra called sweetly.

Sam felt all of the air suddenly expel from her lungs as something slammed harshly into her back, causing the Fenton Bazooka to go flying from her grasp as she staggered forward, hitting the green sand with her knees, struggling to regain her breath from the blow. Pain radiated from her back, making her eyes water and her vision blurry. 

“Danny…” she wheezed, even though it was completely stupid; Danny wasn’t there, he wasn’t going to come bail her and Tucker out like he always did when things got too intense, and now they’d probably never even find him. Spectra would drain her to a near husk and then use her insecurities against her to get her to make an awful, awful wish. Sam looked down at her hands, curling them into the soft sand, her eyes catching the glint of the turquoise gem set of her ring.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to go down without at least attempting to fight. The girl sensed a ghost approaching her from behind and, with a low snarl, twisted herself in a flurry of sand and searing back pain, aiming with one of her Wrist Rays haphazardly. A shot went off, wild, and the cold, black hand of Spectra closed over the exposed skin below the metal bracelet that secured the compact weapon to her body. Sam gasped, feeling like she’d just been submerged under a lake of ice cold water; gooseflesh erupted along her arms and an unsettling wave of horrible despair twisted in her stomach, making her feel sick and hopeless all at once.

The goth winced and fell to her knees again.

I can’t do this!

“Marvelous, marvelous!” Spectra said gleefully, her other hand shooting out to claim Sam’s other wrist. “Yes, such despair… why even bother continuing, girl? Your boyfriend is probably already dead by now.”

“Hey, let go of her!” Sam vaguely heard Tucker yell from somewhere behind her, then came a muffled sound and she was sure one of the harem girls had slid her palm over his mouth to stifle him.

“Stop,” Sam groaned weakly, trying to tug away, but the claw-like fingers merely tightened, the malicious grin growing on her face. Behind her, Bertrand and Desiree were equally delighted by the situation, reveling in her mounting misery.

Oh god, she’s probably right, Danny’s probably dead by now, and it’s all my fault!

“Look at it this way,” Bertrand piped up, looking ecstatic to be contributing. “The little loser was probably getting tired of you anyway, I bet that’s why he came here in the first place! To get away!”

“Oooh, an astute observation, Berty!”

What if he really was coming here to see some girl ghost? What if he doesn’t want me anymore? He’s been coming in here so much alone, he never mentions why, and he’s never done it before now. It all makes sense, he’s done with me and he’s found someone else, if he’s still alive he’ll be asking for his ring back before I know it… oh god…

Her heart pounded against her chest, she felt weary, like if Spectra let her go she’d collapse into the sand. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew that none of this was true, that the ghost currently latched onto her was feeding on and fueling every miniscule bad thought that had passed through her mind since they’d been searching for Danny, but she couldn’t get herself to calm down and rationalize. It all seemed so hopeless in this desert surrounded by ghosts and nothing.

~~~~

Hunter paused, his eyes going wide, mouth parting and ears leveling at a slope in surprise. He gazed down at Luz, at her sincere brown eyes that his matched in intensity these days, and felt a swell of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

Oh. Brother?

It… was that what Luz saw him as? A sibling, the way she saw Vee and King?

Did… did Hunter have what it takes to be a brother? Someone Luz could count on, look up to, confide in, lean on?

Looking down at her, seeing what seemed like pride and confidence in her visage, made him believe so. Maybe he had already been doing all those things. And maybe she had been doing the same for him. Maybe somewhere in his mind, in the part that was still learning and figuring out what real family was, he had already been thinking of her as a sister.

Hunter swallowed, sniffing, and brought a palm up to quickly wipe away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Luz made a noise and used the hand resting on his shoulder to guide him to her side, jostling him affectionately.

“Esta bien, hermano,” she said warmly.

He let out a choked laugh, catching a tear that escaped, and put his own arm around her, keeping her close.

“Thanks, Luz… you’re the best little sister.”

(Apologies in advance if the Spanish is wrong)

(Just, slowly trying to write a little again. Wanted to do something with the siblings <3)

Title: Birds of a Feather, G-Rated

Word Count: 2,263

Summary: Hunter learns something about gryphons, Puddles, and himself while waiting for a gryphon Beast Track lesson to start with Viney.

Characters: Hunter, Viney, Puddles the gryphon, Willow

No Pairings

(This is the first thing I’ve written in ages, so please bear with me. I’m just happy for the inspiration and that I managed to finish a story without losing steam or interest, even if the flow might not be perfect. Enjoy!)

@sergeantsporks​

~~

Hunter felt like he was navigating a field full of traps. Long, wiggling traps that shifted dangerously around his feet as he tried to make his way over to a familiar face amongst all the feathers and shrieking. Viney waved him down as soon as she saw him, and Hunter offered a meek wave in return, nervously pointing down at the veritable sea of gryphon tails between the two of them.

Viney seemed to take a moment to realize his dilemma, then chuckled and patted Puddles’ shoulder, pointing over at the nervous boy. Puddles caught sight of Hunter and shrieked, bounding over like a predator for prey. Hunter yelled in alarm and tried to turn to run; how foolish had he been to think Puddles had finally forgiven him for stepping on her tail!

Fully prepared to teleport away to save himself, Hunter was surprised when Puddles rammed her head under his legs so that he slid down onto her back, nestled right between her large, fluffy wings. Puddles hissed and swiped the air threateningly at the other gryphons, whose tails she had trampled and disturbed as she went to rescue Hunter and whom were cawing and roaring in protest. Hunter grinned apologetically at the Beast Track students who were now having to calm their beasts down as Puddles took slightly to the air and glided them both over to Viney.

“Hi, Hunter. Thought you could use a little rescuing!” Viney chirped, patting Puddles’ flank. The large avian made a sound like a hacking cough and sat down, causing Hunter to spill onto the grass unceremoniously. He picked himself up and dusted off his pants.

So I watched all the Artemis and Jade flashbacks from season 4, and oh my god, they truly showed how horrible Lawrence was, I was terrified for little baby Artemis being left alone with him. Seeing that really adds new weight to her insecurities and things back in season one.

Anyway, seeing those also made me feel pretty validated with this drabble I wrote way back before we even got season 3. I may have posted it somewhere on my blog before but fuck if I’m digging for it.

~~~~~

Threat (word prompt)

The blade clattered to the floor. Artemis cried out in fear, her tiny voice echoing off the walls.

“Quiet, baby girl,” Lawrence commanded in an even tone, satisfied when the small blonde brought both hands to her mouth; her head nodded imperceptibly in understanding, eyes glassy with tears unshed. He turned his attention back on his eldest daughter, whose hand he had snatched up and twisted roughly until the pain forced the knife from her thin fingers.

“Let me go!” Jade hissed out, her free hand trying without success to pry his meaty fingers off her aching wrist. Her dark eyes stared into his own, filled with a defiance that was overshadowed only by the discomfort. 

To the surprise of both daughters, Lawrence promptly released Jade. She stumbled back a few paces with a hard scowl on her features, free hand rubbing at her smarting joint. Artemis watched in terrified silence.

“That was an impressive move, little girl,” he said in a gruff voice, bending down to pick up Jade’s knife by the bloody blade. He tossed it up casually, the weapon twirling once in a glinting arch before he caught it neatly by the handle. Artemis’s features, in her naivety, relaxed slightly at the seeming words of praise; Jade’s expression, however, hardened into an even deeper scowl. “It was ruthless. Good.” 

Jade’s brows knitted in confusion. Lawrence took two deliberate strides toward her, wiping the blade clean on his pants leg and feeling the shallow cut in the flesh of his arm already beginning to crust over. He gazed down at her with neither pride nor anger, merely offering the knife back to her. She looked at the weapon for a long moment, as if she expected it to explode, before tentatively reaching for it.

Lawrence drew the object back slightly, reaching out to grab her wrist again before it came in contact with it. Jade startled and Artemis gasped loudly, though this time it was stifled by her hands. 

Once more, Lawrence’s expression betrayed neither pride nor anger, but his cold tone was laced with the promise of harsh consequences.

When Dragon’s memories finally come back enough, she only remembers a little from when the world went crazy. She was small. She remembers being scared. The crashing sound of the TV hitting the floor, thick glass shattering and flying across the floor. An electric sound, her dad out of breath, sweat on his face. She remembers looking at him and crying, the unexpected noises having frightened her. Her dad rushing to pick her up, trying to speak softly to her, soothingly, checking to make sure none of the glass had caught her.

She was fine, though. Dragon held onto him as he took her hurriedly to her bedroom. There were a lot of screams and other loud noises scattered around, drifting to their ears from other apartments above and below them. Her dad sat her down on her bed, and began rummaging around for her shoes and her blanket. He told her everything was going to be okay as he put the shoes on her feet and then wrapped the blanket over her torso; as always, the cloth was an immediate comfort as soon as it touched her skin. Dad put his hands gently on her shoulders

“Sara, look at me. Everything’s going to be just fine. We’re going to leave. We’re going to stay with a friend of daddy’s, okay? Just for a while. It’s not safe here.”

Dragon didn’t understand. She started to nod, but a loud crash that shook the building and a scream from outside stopped them both. Dragon drew in a scared breath and reached for her dad, and he scooped her up, starting to leave the room.

“W-wait! My book, my book!” She reached out toward her room, towards the bedside drawer she knew it was stashed in. She had many books, but there was only one she needed, the most important one.

“Sara, sweetheart, we can’t--”

Dragon wiggled in his arms, tears in her eyes, until he relented and set her down. She ran over to the drawer and pulled out the book about mythological creatures that she had so recently been fascinated with, the one with the dragons in it. Her dad had enthralled her so with it, reading it with his voices, showing her the pictures, making them sound so impossible but so real.

Dragon hugged it to her chest and ran back to her dad, motioning for him to pick her up again. She tucked the book into her shawl as he moved them through the house and into his bedroom, where he reached into his own bedside table for something a little less sentimental.

A gun. She remembered the sharp glint of it, the object she’d been told to never touch.

Dad grabbed several boxes of something and stuffed them into the pocket of his jacket. Then, he grabbed a duffel bag from his closet and began stuffing some things inside. They stopped in the kitchen briefly to grab some canned foods and then dad was moving quickly toward their front door, breathless and sweating more terribly than when he’d shoved the TV onto the floor. He opened the door slowly, so slowly.

Gun pointed first into the hallway.

“Sara...” Dad said softly to her. “Put your head down.”

“W-Why?”

“Put your head down, and don’t lift it back up until I tell you it’s okay. Alright? Can you do that for me?”

“...yeah.”

If she tries hard enough, she can still remember the smell of his shirt.

Word Count: 3,032

Summary: A recently returned Wally West fixes pancakes for Lian, and reflects on his past and his future. Spitfire. Post Season 3, Fix-It.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886541

The blade clattered to the floor. Artemis cried out in fear, her tiny voice echoing off the walls.

“Quiet, girl,” Lawrence commanded in an even tone, satisfied when the small blonde brought both hands to her mouth; her head nodded imperceptibly in understanding, eyes glassy with tears unshed. He turned his attention back on his eldest daughter, whose hand he had snatched up and twisted roughly until the pain forced the knife from her thin fingers.

“Let me go!” Jade hissed out, her free hand trying without success to pry his meaty fingers off her aching wrist. Her dark eyes stared into his own, filled with a defiance that was overshadowed only by the discomfort.

To the surprise of both daughters, Lawrence promptly released Jade. She stumbled back a few paces with a hard scowl on her features, free hand rubbing at her smarting joint. Artemis watched in terrified silence.

“That was an impressive move, little girl,” he said in a gruff voice, bending down to pick up Jade’s knife by the bloody blade. He tossed it up casually, the weapon twirling once in a glinting arch before he caught it neatly by the handle. Artemis’s features, in her naivety, relaxed slightly at the seeming words of praise; Jade’s expression, however, hardened into an even deeper scowl. “It was ruthless. Good.”

Jade’s brows knitted in confusion. Lawrence took two deliberate strides toward her, wiping the blade clean on his pants leg and feeling the shallow cut in the flesh of his arm already beginning to crust over. He gazed down at her with neither pride nor anger, merely offering the knife back to her. She looked at the weapon for a long moment, as if she expected it to explode, before tentatively reaching for it.

Lawrence drew the object back slightly, reaching out to grab her wrist again before it came in contact with it. Jade startled and Artemis gasped loudly, though this time it was stifled by her hands.

Once more, Lawrence’s expression betrayed neither pride nor anger, but his cold tone was laced with the promise of harsh consequences.

The words sounded far away, reaching her ears from a distance, yet they stirred memories in her foggy mind. Her eyes shifted restlessly beneath heavy lids as consciousness tugged persistently at her in the form of recognition.

She’d heard that voice before. Not in years… not in person, anyway. But the very real pain that throbbed dully in the back of her skull reassured her that this wasn’t a dream. 

“Come on, babe, open those gorgeous eyes.”

The words were a bit clearer now, closer and more distinguishable. There could be no doubt now of who they belonged to; Artemis would never forget the sound of his voice. But this couldn’t be right.

He was gone.

Deciding she no longer wanted to have to hear his heart wrenching voice echoing against the inside of her obviously concussed skull, Artemis stirred and groaned, one of her palms coming up to press against her forehead as she stirred. At least whenever she heard and saw him in her dreams, she was vaguely aware that it was all just pretend; she didn’t like hearing him so clearly, as if she could open her eyes and he’d be hovering over her with a sparkling smile and bright green eyes.

It made the hair on the back of her neck prickle in unpleasantness. 

Artemis slowly pried her heavy lids open, bit by bit, blinking back the too-bright light until it became more manageable. The discomfort in her head didn’t feel too serious, which did little to explain the voice she’d heard so crystal clear only moments before, but that would have to take a back seat for now.

She had to assess her situation first.

As the archer groaned and closed her eyes to bring herself slowly into an upright position, she became aware of a parched mouth, and hot skin, and sand sifting beneath her clenching fingers as she shifted into position.

Altogether a way too familiar setting. She braced for the worst scenario as she finally opened her eyes.

What she didn’t see was the horribly unwelcome back drop of a vast desert stretching beyond her vision, heat waves rippling with searing clarity above the gentle slope of dunes.

Her vision was only a sea of green.

Her heart stopped. Her eyes widened and her dry, cracked lips parted in shock.

Wally smiled at her. A smile that morphed into the biggest, toothiest grin she had ever seen grace his features. It pushed his cheeks up and crinkled his eyes, which looked in danger of spilling over with tears. 

Artemis tried to choke out his name in disbelief, but her throat was too parched to form words and all she managed was a strangled croak. She would have been embarrassed by her lack of coherent words if her addled brain hadn’t been too busy rapidly trying to understand exactly who or what she was looking at. It certainly looked like her long lost (not dead, never dead) boyfriend was crouched just inches from her face. He looked exactly the way she remembered him, the way he looked in the pictures Megan had pasted into the impossibly huge scrapbook she’d made for her. Yet he looked a bit different too; three years older, his strong jaw a bit stronger, his shoulders wider. Stubble dotted his jawline. 

This couldn’t possibly be real.

Tremors ran through her body, and her fingers clenched into fists at her sides as she closed herself off to what she was seeing. It was a mirage, it had to be. 

She wouldn’t fall for this.

Wally was gone.

“Deja vu, huh, Artemis?” Wally managed to get out, his voice cracking but clear. He let out a strangled laugh and his hand came up to cup her face. Artemis remained still, and his palm hesitated for only a moment before closing the distance and resting along the swell of her cheek. She couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath at the skin on skin contact of his bare hand on her face; it was an all too familiar touch, one that she remembered well even after all these years. Electricity seemed to arc out from the place where they touched, and she knew by the solid, warm press of his fingertips against her jaw that there was no way this could be a mirage. Mirages didn’t feel like that; mirages didn’t feel like anything.

But Wally West felt like something. He felt like warmth and love and home, something solid. And she could feel all those things in the hand on her face.

“...Wally?” Artemis managed at last, her voice just as parched as her throat felt, and perhaps for more than the fact that she was sitting in the middle of a searing desert.

The speedster just smiled and nodded, his eyes wet, and he stroked his thumb along her cheek.