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kikiofthevast · 5 years

Text

To Expand on Slytherin Patton

Virgil is a second year.

Patton is a fifth year

Logan and Roman are fourth years.

---

Patton was, to put it bluntly, pissed. That was evident enough by the way his wand was gripped tightly in his hand, and a scowl was painted on his face.

People parted for him like the ocean. Nobody had ever seen Patton Morales get angry. Not Patton "Sunshine" Morales, not Patton "Would-never-hurt-a-fly" Morales.

This was a Patton that nobody had ever seen before.

Even Roman looked scared as the boy in blue robes trailed behind his friend.

Patton marched up the stairs, which didn't move, for once. He put a hand on the bathroom door and flung it open, immediately walking up to Logan, who was tapping his foot as a sort of nervous habit.

"I've done my best to calm him, to the point where he is no longer panicking, but I believe he wants you specifically." Logan pushed up his glasses, his face remaining mostly neutral, his worry only betrayed by the way he was biting his lip and the way his blue eyes shined with it.

Patton took a moment to calm down, taking a few deep breaths and knocking on the stall door gently.

"Hey kiddo, it's Patton." Patton heard a soft whimper come from inside the stall, but soon after, it unlocked. Virgil sat on the toilet, shaking and hugging himself.

"Can I touch you?" Patton asked softly as Logan and Roman watched nervously from outside. Virgil nodded slightly, and Patton carefully eased him into a kind and soft hug.

Virgil began crying, gripping into the fabric of Patton's uniform. "They, they wouldn't stop," he hiccuped, "they kept saying stuff like that I was pathetic, and dumb, and stupid, and- and- not worthy of being a Gryffindor."

Patton's grip on Virgil tightened slightly. "They were wrong, my little stormcloud, those people were just cowards, telling you things that they believed about themselves. You are brave, and strong, and kind. And one of the noblest Gryffindors I've ever met."

"Thank, thank you Patton." Virgil pulled off the hug slightly, and Patton backed off himself, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, walking with him out of the stall, where he was met with more hugs from Logan and Roman.

"Logan, can you take care of Virgil until your next class?" Logan nodded, resting his head on Virgil's black curls. "Roman, come with me."

Roman took his place behind Patton again as the Slytherin walked back out into the hallway.

"Now," he said, addressing the crowd that had just been whispering whose heads all whipped up to stare at him. "which of you kiddos is responsible for hurting my friend, Virgil Storm."

The crowd shuffled, muttering to each other, but nobody provided any answers.

"Second-year Gryffindor? Maybe a group of two or three Slytherins?"

"I saw something," a kid in the back volunteered, and the crowd shuffled to basically bring them forward. "A couple Slytherins and a Gryffindor were harassing a Gryffindor kid. Black hair? Weird purple eyes?"

"Do you happen to know the names of these students?"

"Granchen Picksy, Hilda Frein, and Larrix Willows." The student reported. "All third-years."

Patton's lips stretched up into what was anything but a smile. "Great! Thanks kiddo!" He ruffled the student's hair, and walked off.

Luckily, he knew these three students particularly well. They were always in the library at this point, pretending to study and find books, but really just doing silly hexes on younger students.

Patton approached them, giggling about something.

"What's so funny, kiddos?" Patton asked, twirling his wand in his hands.

The laughing stopped. The three students turned to look at him.

Patton pointed his wand at Hilda, and under his breath muttered "Mucus Ad Nauseam"

He pulled his wand back to his side as his twisted smile turned into a smirk. "Might want to take her to the hospital wing," Patton said innocently. "If untreated, she could collapse."

He winked, turning to leave.

"Locomot-"

"Calvario!" Patton cut Larrix off, spinning back around and pointing his wand at him, watching in satisfaction as his hair disappeared. "Maybe next time, you won't mess with my family."

He twirled his wand in his hand for a moment. Whistling as he left the library, he met Roman at the door.

"You didn't actually need me, did you."

"Nope! But it's cute when you follow me around like that."

Roman considered it. "Fair enough," he admitted.

#logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #harry potter au #sanders sides au #slytherin!patton #hufflepuff!logan #gryffindor!virgil #ravenclaw!roman #platonic moxiety #platonic lamp

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greatmar2 · 6 years

Text

Grounded Skies

A writing piece for @elektronx .

After being forced from the skies by the Turbuli, Scapes and Hights have had to adapt to life on the ground.

Read on Dragon Press

1926 Words

The jungle air hung thick and humid. Trees reached for the sky, each in decade-long races against their neighbours, competing to see who could claim the most sunlight. At the feet of the great trees lay the stragglers and the shrubbery. Yet more plants grew on the trees themselves - tangled vines and other parasitic growths. The density of this foliage made it hard for the air to reach the ground, but every now and then a faint hint of a breeze might touch the ground, each one resembling a breath - as if the forest itself were a living creature.

A gargantuan creature the forest may not be, yet it was still alive. Songs of countless birds, the humming of insects and cries of other animals sounded across the forest. Lives too numerous to imagine, each with their own struggles and desires.

In some places where the soil was not suitable for trees - whether not firm enough, ruined by shallow rocks or something else. In these rare patches where the sunlight touches the ground, grasses and shrubbery grew thick. In these gap in the foliage, one could sometimes even see enough of the sky that they could see the massive mountains looming over the jungle-filled highlands. Though they may not be desirable to many, there were scores of creatures who welcomed these spots of sun.

One such creature lay belly-up, soaking itself in the sunshine - it’s own patch of heaven. Had it not been so tragically grounded, this creature might instead have been one with the heavens at this moment. Smooth feathers once as white as the clouds, now ruffled and dirtied by life in the forest. Six long and slender wings that might never see the skies again. Yet, this creature was happy. It’s supple form lazily splayed across the ground. A serene expression on its face was accompanied by a healthy sky-blue glow emanating from the tips of the tendrils upon its neck, wings and tail.

Soft rustling sounded in the bushes at the edge of the clearing. The whispering of grass and leaves grew closer and closer, creeping towards the oblivious sky creature. All of a sudden, a stormcloud leapt from the tall grass - pouncing at the sunning creature. However, the white animal was not as oblivious as it might appear: in a flash it had flipped over and turned to face the storm which was now where the cloud had been moments ago. The storm appeared to be a creature much like the first, it's body and six wings bearing stormcloud coloured feathers and ending in lightning yellow tips. The two leapt at each one another, both tackling the other to the ground. An intense contest for superiority then ensued, grappling and rolling in the dirt and grass.

Ultimately, the storm-creature came out on top - pinning the other and staring smugly down at its captive. “I win again, brother.”

“But you’re older and bigger, Hights!”

The storm chuckled and got off her brother. “Yeah, yeah. Well done on your awareness though. I am gladdened that you are no longer completely unaware of your surroundings.”

“Hey!” The cloudy creature shoved his sister’s shoulder. “... thanks…”

“Come now, Scapes, it’s time to stop lazing about in the sun. I found a good fruit tree not too far from here. You need to eat something for that growing body of yours.”

“You’re growing too!”

“And I will eat too,” Hights stated. She took the lead.

The siblings left the clearing, weaving their way between the dense trees. In spite of the twisted and tangled depths, Hights still navigated true. In a short time, they had found the fruit tree - the bright colours advertising their ripeness.

With a nimble leap, the stormcloud stood amongst the branches of the tree. She reached for the nearest fruit, plucking them and dropping them to her brother below. He caught them, laying them in a little heap while he awaited her return to the ground.

Once she’d picked several of the largest fruit, she jumped down and grinned at Scapes. “Eat up!” The two gorged themselves on the sweet bounty of the forest.

“You’ve made a quite a mess there.”

Scapes gave his sister an impish grin, juice dripping down his chin and between his claws as he swallowed the last of the fruit. He flicked some of the juice onto his sister’s face.

“Oi! Now we both need to clean up in the stream, you rascal!”

Scapes snickered and scampered off into the bushes, his sister in hot pursuit: two bundles of energy dashing through the forest. At the stream, he turned heel and splashed Hights with water. She returned fire, soaking him. A war of water-artillery ensued until they both lay panting in the water.

After regaining her breath, Hights took a long draught of water. Once she was done, she climbed out of the stream and dried herself, making a point of splashing Scapes in the process. She quickly retreated out of the range of potential retaliation. She began preening, neatening her ruffled feathers. Scapes followed suit but only made a cursory effort to neaten his feathers.

“I think we should find somewhere to stay tonight before it gets too late. You ready?” Hights queried. Her brother responded with a nod.

The two then set off once again, this time at a slower pace, examining their surroundings for suitable nesting spots. They needed to find a tree or two that would be comfortable to sleep in.

Suddenly, Hights brought their exploration to a halt. She backed up until she was behind the bush she had just been passing, then motioned for Scapes to stay quiet and peek over the bushes. A creature was grazing the grass in a clearing ahead of them. The siblings were not at the edge of the clearing, but could still see the creature well enough. The creature held a seemingly meek appearance: long thin legs supporting a body covered in soft, wood brown fur. All except the horns. The head of this creature was crowned with great twisted and gnarled growths that appeared more like the roots of an upturned tree than traditional horns.

“These guys are patrons of nature,” Hights whispered, “I’ve seen them before.”

“Just like we’re supposed to be patrons of the sky?”

“Yeah… Anyways, it’s not going to try to eat us, b-”

“I guessed that.”

“But we should still keep clear. I’ve seen what they can do to each other. I don’t want to find out if the other one was going easy on the trespasser. Let’s go around.”

The two took a long path around the deer before continuing their journey through the highlands - around the base of the mountain proper. They found a few decent trees, but they didn’t find any good ones. Since they had time, they kept searching.

A bone-chilling howl was carried across the skies, emanating from the edge of the forest and piercing into the depths. Even the birds paused their previously constant song as the forest sat in a silent fear for some time. Precious seconds passed before the forest slowly came back to life. The siblings dared to move again.

“What was that?” Scapes’ voice quivered as he half-whispered his question.

“I don’t know.”

Another howl. This one deeper into the forest. And another, further up the mountain. Every creature in the forest knew what this meant. Even the creatures that were not of the forest knew on some instinctive level what this meant. None knew who it was, but someone was going to die today. The hunt was on.

Hights’ voice was strained as if she was struggling to breathe. “Run.”

The pair bolted, sprinting through the forest as fast as their suddenly very inadequate legs could carry them. Leaves and vines whipped their faces, shrubbery and branches scratched at them, but they did not care - they fled.

Howls rung across the forest.

Slow as it may have seemed to them at the moment, they still ran with lightning speed. In their rush, they encountered the horned creature from before - almost running into it, but instead tripping and tumbling to the ground in their panicked stop.

The howls called.

The creature had also stopped. It turned around and faced the siblings, seeming like it was getting ready to attack.

Other howls responded.

“We’re running away too! We’ll leave you alone!” Hights called to it. No reaction. “Scapes, run! I’ll distract it!” She flared up her wings, trying to make herself appear bigger while her brother ran off into the forest. She jumped around the creature, making ostentatious movements with her wings - trying to keep it too intimidated or confused to attack.

Another howl swept the forest in fear.

The horned creature decided that this fight wasn’t worth it, then ran. Hights did the same, running off in the rough direction that her brother had. She ran and ran. Even when the birds began to sing again, she ran. But eventually, she had to stop. She still wanted to run, but her body couldn’t take it. She collapsed to the ground, waiting until her breathing slowed once again.

As much as she wanted to curl up and lie there forever, she was more concerned about her brother’s well-being. She forced herself to stand up and begin walking. She realised she had no idea where her brother would have gone. Maybe to the stream? No, that was too close to where they had been. Maybe to where they had spent the last night? Probably not - they did their best to leave no traces of themselves where they stayed each night. Or perhaps he had headed up the mountain - their kind was meant for the skies, so he might feel safer there? Definitely not - some of the howls had originated there.

She had an idea. It was risky, but finding her brother was worth the risk. She would make a call of her own - one that her Windchaser tribe had done to locate one another from long distances in the skies. Scapes should recognise it if he heard it. It was similar enough to the birds that the howling predators would take notice of it. Hopefully.

Hights took a deep breath, then released a high pitched cry, followed by two shorter, lower pitched ones and a final high pitched note. She waited, staring at the gaps of open skies between the trees. The birds sung, the insects hummed, but no one answered her. She made the call again and waited again.

This time, an identical call responded. It was quite some distance away, but she started to move in its direction. She moved slowly and cautiously, repeating the windchaser call every so often - confirming whether she was heading the right direction. The responses were getting closer to her too.

When at last she found her brother, she felt a tenseness leave her body and her heart leave her throat as she embraced him. It felt like she had held her breath this entire time and could only breathe now that she had found him. The two did not need to exchange words - both felt the other’s relief.

Together, they set off at a calm pace - heading away from the mountain and probably away from the howling terrors. It was beginning to get dark, so they eventually picked a tree where they’d settle for the night. The sibling leapt up into the branches of the tree, making themselves a home where they would spend the night and surely be safe from the beasts below.

#elektronx #writing #dragon #by me #fantasy

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jamalam · 7 years

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When The Night Sky Smiled

Thanks to @8cringefest8 for beta reading this!

Before rain, there was always stormclouds.

Rolling in through the horizon on broken melodies of thunder crackling like an old boombox, twisting and curling around the tallest skyscrapers until it overtook the sky. In a chilling embrace, it pulled Alexander in, holding him not tightly, but without the looseness of fog. Instead, he could feel himself suffocate if it were unpleasant, which his stormclouds were most definitely not.

Dark and forgiving instead of foreboding, refusing to cry even as the water stung at the corner of their stormy eyes and welled up in droplets near the corners. They would be wiped away with the winds that accompanied their voce, long and possessive with each stroke of the sky that fell to the Earth. If Alexander attempted to break away, the stormclouds would fall back in willing defeat, and yet, he found no reason to abandon the layers of darkness and subtle strength that he had grown so affectionate toward.

Some nights, when a storm was close enough to climb to the sky with, Alexander would lean in and press a soft kiss to the puffs of cloud that accumulated at the very top. His storm would turn over quickly, grinning widely in flashes of lighting from far away, and press thunderbolt kisses to his face, falling at each and every little place on it like the drizzle of droplets before it began to pour.

But Alexander’s storm never allowed to water to spill from his eyes, at least not when he knew that his love was near. Because when a storm is only forming, resting on the sunset splattered sky, it refuses to cry. Only in the darkest moments, when the skies were no longer pink but not quite navy blue, would the sobs shatter through his body, deep and unlike anything heard before. Holding him close in those rare few moments, Alexander curled them into a small piece of the atmosphere, where they would not dance, but instead, clutch the fabric of each other’s shirts, and despite Alexander being far shorter than his storm, they would find themselves even enough to kiss with passion and lighting fury, if only to push away the threats of sunlight that would surface and break away the storm.

Starlight and sunlight have always seemed so different, and though one could make the case that they are the same, they are still so staggeringly opposing. Sunshine burns through the stormclouds, shooting through with unwanted beams, glimmering on little small reminders of what had been, and would have continued to be.

Starlight, though? Stars gleamed instead of glimmered, and were not diamonds, as many had so wrongly identified them. Sunlight is diamonds, harsh and sharp, and much stronger than they have any right to be. Gentle songs are woven into whispered melodies, until the night sky is illuminated with a lullaby sung by starlight as they pirouette through the darkness and pain of a storm, and yet still allow it to continue wreaking the unique sort of havoc that disappears come morning light.

Freckles splattered across John’s face like stars would never even begin to rival those that belonged up in the cosmos above them- quite simply because the ones on John’s face were so much more brilliant than those millions of lightyears away.

So perhaps that was why, in the few moments where Lafayette’s mind was overtaken by the darkness and clanging clatters of was long past, John could bend starlight into their eyes, soft and welcoming until, they could both see clearly once more. They would be a mess of arms and embraces, cluttered together in the atmosphere all their own as they swayed to music that was not there, and sat still for the tunes that crossed the air like wisps of dandelion puffs in the spring air.

Kissing Lafayette, Alexander decided, had two different ways of forming itself in his heart.

When the storm laid lazily on the horizon, he could press their lips together and melt into his smile, giggling softly along with the welcoming rolls of thunder in their warm embraces. When it shook the world, breaking through stone and shattering window panes behind his eyes, Lafayette was no longer small droplets of kisses on his cheeks and forehead while they laid together in bed. During those kisses, Lafayette was something more than anything, and even if he wanted to (which he would never), Alexander couldn’t have stopped the lighting coursing through their veins.

Sometimes, however, Lafayette’s kiss was simply a ghost of a memory. Those times, small bits of light would fall through the sky and conjure up a misty sort of iridescence that could hold him and pull him forward without truly moving him. In truth, John’s kisses weren’t kisses at all. They were wishes, abandoned halfway to the stars, and saved up for when the world was lacking in the sort of magic that only such a wish that John could create with soft whispers and subtle gasps.

On quiet night, and loud ones, too. For those rather small events and ones that overtook their minds until obsession could be the only fitting description. When the sky was bare and lonely in the darkness it wishes to much it did not create, the stormclouds would meld with the stars, until sky, storm, and starlight was one.

And on those nights?

On those nights, they had no need for the world below. Instead, lace cloaked the world like it was silk, leaving small spaces to be filled with dark magic and light touches. Whispers were carried off into the night sky until it found itself painted in the colors of the midnight it so found comfort in. The cold was a cloak, covering the heated gazes and warm expressions reserved for the others that they could not be without.

They had no need for the world below.

After all, they had each other.

And when one has the night sky so perfectly formed in heart and mind, they have no need for anything else.

#fanfiction #laflams #alexander hamilton #john laurens #gilbert du motier marquis de lafayette #marquis de lafayette #fluff #metaphors #overly poetic #i fucking wrote f l u f f

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