#Christianity in fiction

[griseldagimpel]

Why Basira Hussain in The Magnus Archives Isn't Textually Muslim

I've noted before that Basira Hussain in The Magnus Archives isn't textually Muslim and is implied not to have strong religious faith. And it is religious faith I want to talk about in this post. Basira may very well come from a Muslim cultural background. But she isn't depicted as a capital B Believer.

Let's start with: a character's background - of any and every sort - is going to have some kind of impact on that character. The specifics of that impact will vary - there is no universal experience of anything - and the extend of the impact will be affected by the specifics of the story they are inhabiting. But a character's background shouldn't just be garnish.

With The Magnus Archives, it's a story that deeply involves religion and religious faith, what with the fear entities being worshiped as gods and all. And that means that characters' non-fear-god religious background comes up more than it might in another narrative. Thus, we get stuff like Eugene opining that the Cult of the Lightless Flame shouldn't just imitate Christianity and Martin & Jon discussing whether the Christian God is a force they can invoke.

As such, the fact that religion never comes up with Basira - when it comes up with so many other characters in the story - leads me to believe that she doesn't have a strong religious background.

Are you following me so far?

Right. So why is this? Why did the creative team make this creative decision?

Well, it's because of season five.

The fourth season ends with the fear apocalypse beginning, and then throughout all of season five, no deity intervenes to stop the fear apocalypse. (Well, unless you want to argue this was the case with Georgie and Melanie's immunity, and there, yeah, I think from an in-story perspective their cult's pretty justified, honestly.)

We spend most of the our time with Jon & Martin, who explicitly come from culturally Christian backgrounds but don't have particularly strong Christian faith themselves and predominantly experience religion in the context of the fear gods. Then there's Basira, Georgie, and Melanie.

The goal of the fifth season is the stop the fear apocalypse, which the characters do, and then the series quickly ends. And the sequel series is over there in a whole different parallel universe.

Because, look, even after being undone, the fear apocalypse was going to fuck with a lot of humanity's religious faith (or lack there of!) something fierce. Gods are real but also they're monsters and also no other god intervened.

That's...a lot.

Basira's doesn't have strong religious faith because if she did, she'd have to process season five through the lens of her religion.

And that's...a lot.

And the creative team wanted Basira's story arc to be about her confronting the harm she and Daisy did as corrupt cops.

Also, look, a British podcast depicting the Christian God as either probably nonexistent or useless? That's like, whatever. England's got a whole Church of England. Christians in England aren't being persecuted for being Christian. The episode "The Architect of Fear" can have Robert Smirke write, "I am certain the Dread Powers cannot take a soul who keeps faith in the Resurrection." and then drop dead before he can even finish his letter. It's fine.

But a British podcast specifically depicting a Muslim character having to confront that their faith is false?

Muslims in England are a religious minority. They don't have a whole institutionalized Mosque of England behind them.

Yeah, that could easily end up coming off as Jerk Move.

Not saying that it couldn't be done or couldn't make a compelling narrative, but it would be a lot to take on. It would risk overpowering the corrupt cop reckoning character arc. And the creative team would have to tread carefully for it not to be a Jerk Move.

Ergo, it's easier on the creative team for them to just...not have Basira be religiously Muslim.

Relatedly, Melanie and Georgie aren't depicted as strongly religious for similar reasons. Because they're outside of the Eye's power! If either of them had a strong religious faith, the characters would likely be interpreting their exemption as being a reflection of their faith! And that would be another plotline where the creative team would likely feel like they had to tread carefully lest their story come off as Jerk Move. Again, not impossible to pull off. But difficult.

[jackiestarsister]

OUAT religion headcanons

The existence and practice of organized religion is pretty ambiguous in Once Upon a Time, and the writers play pretty fast and loose with spiritual themes.

Apparently Christianity is practiced in both the Enchanted Forest, which has bishops and churches, and Storybrooke, which has a convent and a Catholic school. The fact that there is a community of nuns in Storybrooke would necessitate the existence of at least one priest within Storybrooke to minister to them, so there is probably at least one church in the town as well.

I imagine that the Mills, Charming, and Swan-Jones families are not particularly keen on organized religion. They probably have a lot of questions and ambivalence after everything they’ve experienced across the realms. On the one hand, they know the Underworld and the Greek gods are real; on the other hand, so are aspects of Christianity like the Holy Grail.

However, I think Mary Margaret (who wears a cross pendant in the first season) and the nuns have genuine faith, and that the others would learn a little from them, as well as from their own experiences. Plus, Christianity resonates with their strong values of hope, love, grace, forgiveness, and redemption.

So, these are my headcanons:

~ Charming likes the story of David, who not only shares his name, but also was a shepherd who became a prince, faced down a giant, and had to fight a war against the jealous king who first gave him power.

~ Emma recognizes that she is much like baby Moses escaping Pharaoh by being hidden in a basket and baby Jesus escaping Herod's Massacre of the Innocents. She also identifies with Joseph’s abandonment and eventual reunion and reconciliation with his family.

~ Mary Margaret's favorite Bible verse is Hebrews 11:1, "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

~ Mary Margaret's favorite saint is Margaret of Scotland, who, like her, lost her father, was forced to flee her homeland, had a happy marriage in a land she did not expect to live in, and found her "happy ending" was not what she expected it to be.

~ When Hope is born, Mother Superior makes her family aware of the verse in Hebrews 6:19, "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." As a result, anchors become Hope's favorite nautical symbol.

~ Mary Margaret and the nuns introduce Hope to the more mythical/folkloric stories of the Bible.

~ When Emma, Hook, and Hope visit Boston, they discover the Shrine of Our Lady of Good Voyage in the seaport. They end up visiting long enough to attend a Mass. This is Hook's first real exposure to the core beliefs of Christianity. Given his own past, he can't help being moved by what he hears about repentance, forgiveness, and redemption.

~ Hook relates to the parables about a man finding treasure and deciding to sell everything he has in order to obtain them (Matthew 13:44-46). But his favorite verse is Matthew 6:21, "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

~ Hope discovers VeggieTales while looking for movies about pirates. She loves Jonah and The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything. Hook finds the concept of singing vegetables utterly bizarre, but he likes the story of Jonah and the idea of a "God of Second Chances." Hope sings the songs so much that he sometimes finds himself humming them. Emma teases them by pointing out that they have, in fact, been to Boston in the fall.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Exploring your Setting

(Excerpted from the Young Novelist Workbook) ⚜ Basics: Setting

PART 1: Settings That Create Moods

Mood - the feeling of your novel; its emotional quality.

You can also think of the mood as how you want someone to feel while reading your novel. 

Examples: playful, serious, mysterious, tense, warm, dangerous, joyous

The setting of a novel - where and when the story takes place. As you know, most novels have more than one setting.

Usually, the author decides to have one large setting.

Example: Los Angeles in 1995

and then many smaller settings

Examples: The laundromat where the characters hang out on the weekends, or the classroom where they get in a fight

Settings do more than serve as a backdrop to the action in your novel. They can also create or enhance the mood of your novel. 

Example

If you wanted to create a creepy mood for a scene in your novel, you could start with something like: 

"A dead tree stood alone in a dark field. Its branches creaked in a cold wind, and in the distance, something howled.”

These images remind us of dark, disturbing things, and show the reader that the scene of the novel is “creepy” without having to tell them directly.

Describing the Setting: A Sample Exercise

Describe the settings that would help create each of the moods listed below.

Try to write 2 or 3 sentences for each mood.

Include specific details about the sights, sounds, sensations (and maybe even smells) of the settings you choose:

Creepy, Joyous, Suspenseful/tense

Now make up 2-3 of your own moods and describe a setting that would go along with each one. 

The last step is to apply your new skills to your upcoming novel.

Think of a scene from each section of your novel.

Then, write or list details to describe a setting that will help create the right mood for each scene.

Example: You might set your climax on the edge of a crumbling cliff at sunset in the middle of a thunderstorm. 

A setting from your set-up:

A setting from your inciting incident:

A setting from your rising action:

A setting from your climax:

A setting from your falling action:

A setting from your resolution:

Now you have settings to enhance the different moods that will be in your novel.

PART 2: Settings That Reinforce Characters

Another advanced writing trick is to show things about your characters just by putting them in specific settings.

Examples: If you were writing about a mysterious person, you might place them in a dark mansion on a hill outside of town; if you were writing about a musician, you might place them in a messy room filled with instruments, speakers, and microphones.

Sample Exercise

For each of the following characters, try to come up with a setting that will reflect or reinforce what you imagine about them.

As you write, try to be as detailed as possible.

Don’t forget colors, sounds, and even smells.

Focus on where the character is.

The shy new kid in town:

A secret scientist superhero:

A character from your novel:

Another character from your novel:

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ On Setting

[greater-than-the-sword]

How can I not loathe the "witchcraft equals feminism" trope that's become almost ubiquitous in modern fantasy when 1) its themes are grounded in post-Enlightenment era atheistic slander about Christianity 2) It's only half a jump away from its obvious implication that womanhood is Satanic

[doverstar]

can't express accurately how happy it makes me that c.s. lewis did not leave room for many interpretations in narnia. it's christian and you can't get around it. susan chose to care more about worldly things than what matters and he said what he said. the lion is Jesus. evil is evil and good is good and people have to choose. and that makes some readers angry because it's nearly impossible to ignore and they want to ignore it. they want it to be something else and they can't make it something else without making it not narnia. love that. that is doing it right

[vulturevanity]

What is wrong with her (affectionate)

[fictionadventurer]

You guys know "Christian fiction" is not a dirty word, right?

Yes, it's stereotyped as fluffy romances or hit-you-over-the-head allegories, but the genre is growing beyond that. Like any other type of book, it can be done well or done poorly, and I'd say there's a similar ratio of good fiction to dreck as there is in any other genre--Christian fiction just gets a much more critical lens applied to it by people who think any mention of faith is cringe.

There's nothing wrong with writing for an audience that mostly shares your beliefs--it can let you get more specific and realistic about what a life of faith is like and dig deeper into the details for people who are already on-board with the basics.

There's a wide range of what "Christian fiction" can do. Sometimes it tries to preach the Gospel to an audience that's already converted. But sometimes it incorporates Christian themes into a good story. Sometimes it features characters who are practicing Christians and whose faith affects how they approach the world. It can dig in to the questions and complications that come with living out ideals in an imperfect world. Someone looking for "Christian fiction" could be looking for any of those things, might just want to have a conversation with someone who shares their worldview. There's nothing wrong with that.

We shouldn't be afraid of the label. The marketing category that has come to define "Christian fiction" is not the limit of what Christian fiction can do. Don't write it off based on the stereotypes--and don't be afraid to add to the genre!

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

In Sickness and in Care

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, ft. Jack

Summary: When Y/n falls ill, Toto and Jack work together with love and care to nurse her back to health

______________________________________________________________

The day began as a typical morning in the Wolff household, but Y/n felt an odd heaviness in her limbs as she lay under the covers. Jack, full of boundless energy as always, had dashed into the room and jumped onto the bed, his excitement infectious. “Good morning, Y/n!” he shouted happily, bouncing next to her. Normally, she would have pulled him into a hug, laughing as he snuggled close, but today, she just didn’t have the strength.

Toto noticed immediately. He’d always been incredibly attuned to her mood and energy, so when he saw the tiredness in her eyes, the slight frown on her face, he walked over to her side of the bed. His hand reached out, brushing her forehead with the back of his fingers. The heat radiating from her skin caused his brow to furrow deeply. “Liebling, you’re burning up,” he murmured, his deep voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” Y/n croaked, her voice hoarse and scratchy. She tried to push herself up, but the effort only made her head spin. She closed her eyes, groaning softly as her body sank back into the pillows.

Toto's frown deepened, and he sat beside her on the bed. “You don’t look fine. Stay here, rest.” His tone was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. He glanced over at Jack, who was now sitting cross-legged beside Y/n, his wide eyes taking in the scene. The little boy immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“Is Y/n sick?” Jack asked, his small voice trembling slightly as he reached out to touch her arm. His eyes were round with worry as he looked up at his father.

Toto nodded, but his expression softened as he looked at Jack. “She’s not feeling well, but we’re going to help her feel better, alright? She just needs some rest.”

Jack, always eager to help, straightened up and gave a determined nod. “I can help! I’ll take care of her too!”

Toto smiled at his son’s earnestness, giving him a reassuring nod. “That’s a good idea, Jack. Let’s make sure she has everything she needs.”

As Y/n lay there, her fever starting to intensify, she watched through half-lidded eyes as the two most important people in her life sprang into action. Jack rushed to grab her water bottle from the nightstand, holding it carefully with both hands as he offered it to her. “Here, Y/n! You need to drink lots of water. That’s what Papa always says when I’m sick.”

She gave him a grateful smile, taking a small sip even though swallowing was painful. “Thank you, Jack. You’re such a good helper.”

Toto, meanwhile, disappeared into the kitchen, determined to make her something nourishing. He wasn’t the best cook—usually leaving that to Y/n or their chef—but today, he was going to make her his mother’s homemade chicken broth. He remembered it being the go-to remedy for any illness when he was young, and though it had been years since he last made it, he was confident he could manage.

Back in the bedroom, Jack had taken it upon himself to make sure Y/n was as comfortable as possible. He carefully arranged the pillows around her, trying to mimic how he’d seen his dad do it. “There,” he said, stepping back to admire his work. “Is that better?”

Y/n smiled despite her discomfort. “Perfect,” she whispered, her heart warming at how much he cared. Jack crawled onto the bed beside her, carefully snuggling up next to her while holding one of his books. He opened it, determined to read to her even though his reading skills were still developing.

“I’ll read you The Gruffalo,” he announced, flipping through the pages eagerly. Y/n nodded, resting her head against the pillow as she listened to his soft voice stumbling through the words. It wasn’t long before her eyelids became too heavy, and she drifted off into a feverish sleep.

Hours passed in a blur of sleep, heat, and shivers. At one point, Y/n woke up to the smell of something warm and comforting wafting through the air. The fever had made her weak, and even sitting up took a great deal of effort. Her head pounded, and her throat was sore, but the smell of broth was enough to stir her out of her fog.

Toto reappeared with a tray in hand, his face showing clear signs of worry but relief as well. He set the tray gently on the bedside table and helped Y/n sit up, his strong arms supporting her as he propped pillows behind her back. “I made you some chicken broth. It’s my mother’s recipe,” he said softly, holding the bowl out to her with a spoon.

Y/n reached for it, her hands trembling slightly from the effort. The first sip was soothing, the warmth of the broth easing the raw ache in her throat. She could see the pride and worry in Toto’s eyes as he watched her eat, his shoulders finally relaxing when he saw her taking a few more spoonfuls.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a rasp. She managed a small smile, feeling touched by the care he had taken to make her something with his own hands.

Toto shook his head, his large hand coming up to gently brush a few strands of hair away from her face. “You don’t have to thank me. Just focus on getting better,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a soft line along her cheek before he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

As the day wore on, Y/n slipped in and out of sleep, each time waking to find either Jack or Toto by her side. Jack had taken his role as her “nurse” very seriously, making sure her water bottle was always full and tucked her blankets around her with meticulous care. He even gave her one of his stuffed animals, placing it on the bed beside her. “This is Mr. Fluffy. He’ll make you feel better too,” Jack said earnestly, his face lighting up when Y/n gave him a weak but grateful smile.

Later in the evening, after Jack had fallen asleep at the foot of the bed, Y/n’s fever finally began to break. She still felt weak and exhausted, but the oppressive heat had subsided, and her head was no longer throbbing as badly. Toto, who had been sitting beside her with a book in hand, noticed the change immediately.

“You’re looking a bit better,” he said softly, closing the book and setting it aside. His hand reached for hers, squeezing gently. “Thank God.”

Y/n looked at him, her heart full of gratitude. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and Jack,” she said quietly, her voice still hoarse but full of emotion.

Toto’s expression softened, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “We’ll always take care of you, Y/n. You’re everything to us.”

She smiled, her eyes growing heavy again but this time with contentment rather than exhaustion. She glanced down at Jack, who was still fast asleep, clutching one of his toy cars in his small hand. “He’s been so sweet today,” she murmured.

“He adores you,” Toto replied, his gaze shifting to their son. “We both do.”

[whereserpentswalk]

You were born to be a sacrifice. When you first exited your mothers womb the oracles decided that would be your fate. They tattooed your hands and forehead so everyone would know.

When you turn twenty, they'll take you to the church, and they'll set you on fire. And then when your body is burned they'll give your ashes for the angels, and the angels and saints will be proud, and bless your community and family with great riches. Or at least that's what they say.

When you were young it didn't seem to mean anything that you were born to die young. Nobody cared, they just saw you as another kid. But it was always there. Adults would ask other kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, but they'd ask you what you would do once you were a ruler in the court of heaven. They'd tell other kids about marriage and sex and having children, but for you that would just be for other people, you'd die a virgin.

And at a certain age, you were removed from school. Because they said you wouldn't need it. That you shouldn't be wasting your time on such things. And you didn't understand, but you understood that all your freinds were upset that they wouldn't see you anymore. Not as much at least. And people talked about you so much differently from then on. You weren't complimented as strong, or as smart, or as ambitious, you were pretty, and pure, and brave, and dutiful. And everyone talked about how proud they were of you, how wonderful it was that you were going to die for them.

They were so nice to you. They gave you so many gifts and jewelry. You got to spend all day inside playing video games, and you got the best toys and got to go to movies and plays when you wanted to. Soldiers in power armor would bow when they saw you, and robots and cyborgs would turn off their lights. And you sat at a special place in church, and the clothing you wore was diffrent then everyone else's. And people talked about how wonderful you were, and how pretty you were, and how much they loved having you when they knew you wouldn't be on this world for long. And they were so proud of you when they showed you the platinum clothing you would wear on the day of your sacrifice. And you didn't understand why but all of the compliments sounded sad.

As you grew older things changed. The other children went through puberty, but you didn't, they gave you surgery to prevent it, ans told you how pure you were for not producing blood or seed. And you were old enough to understand that you would die, that you would burn, and it would hurt, and that nobody really knew for sure what happened after peopled died. And you saw a sacrifice, and saw the pain they were in, and there weren't any angels, there were only priests watching and chanting, and the smell of burning skin.

Your parents and family started to care much more how you behave. To make sure you're polite. To make sure you're a good sacrifice, who the angels will like. And meanwhile while all your other freinds are going to college, and talking about becoming artists, or starship pilots, or scientists, you know you'll only ever have one ending. But still, everyone loves you, and you don't have responsibilities, but still sometimes you think about how much diffrent life would be if you were born differently.

You've started meeting people who've left the faith, or people who didn't grow up in it, people who believe in diffrent religions or in no religion at all. And your heaven seems less and less certain every day. According to imperial law you're allowed to be sacrificed, but if you choose not to they can't force you. But if you choose not to you can never be a part of your faith again, and your family will be disappointed in you forever. All your family and community, everyone who you ever knew, will consider you a failure, a coward doomed to hell for not going through with what the cosmos planned for you. And all that pride and joy they felt about your fate would be replaced with anger that you never became what they were so happy and proud about you being. You don't think you believe in heaven anymore, but you still might choose to die, if it means they're proud... it's what you're raised to do, you don't know who you'll be if you choose to leave.

Better choose fast darling, it's only a few months away now. You don't want them to be upset.

[griseldagimpel]

Okay, I haven't started The Magnus Protocol yet - I think I'm going to listen to at least the first episode today - but I can't get over how much the fifth season of The Magnus Archives must have changed the world even after the fear-apocalypse was undone.

Because the fear-apocalypse happened! Most of humanity spent an uncountable amount of time being divinely tormented!

Just, every atheist now knows they're wrong. Some gods, at least, do exist. They're evil, but they exist. Do some become anti-theists? Believers in the fear-gods out of fear that the fear-apocalypse could happen again?

Every agnostic now has more of an answer than they believed possible. The divine IS knowable, at least to a degree!

For those that are religious, well, okay, not all religions function the same or have Christianity's focus on an afterlife of reward or punishment. But I'd expect a lot of religious individuals are either going to have their faith shaken or are going to be trying to reconcile their experiences through their faith. After all, for those that follow a religion where they'd expect their faith to protect them, that didn't happen. And that didn't happen on a world-wide scale.

And then there are the Avatars, the special few who didn't get tormented. We know that some people turned on the Avatars in anger afterwards, but I'll note that "watches in peace while other people are tortured in Hell" is literally what some Christians believe Heaven will be like.

If Diego can think his god is Asag and still be an Avatar of the Desolation, how many Christians will identify the Ceaseless Watcher with their god and blame themselves for their torment? How many Christians will now seek Avatarship as a matter of faith?

Yeesh, I mentioned in another post that some Avatars are probably smug about their gods definitely existing, but you know who's going to be absolutely insufferable? TULIP Calvinists! Doubly so for any TULIP Calvinists who also found themselves as Avatars in the fear-apocalypse. Complete vindication for them.

[artist-issues]

there is a huge difference between “magic” as in, “the fairy-tale symbol for a another dimension of good or evil being manifested/a fantasy word for ‘superpower’”

and “magic” as in: “real-world sorcery.”

HUGE difference. Sorcery happens in the real world. It’s when creatures worship created things instead of their Creator. It’s when humans get played by real demons and think they’re tapping into something better.

But “magic” in stories is not always that. Weirdly it sometimes references sorcery. But it’s not always sorcererous. The Fairy Godmother from Cinderella is a symbol; she’s a rewarder of good ethics, and her “magic” just makes that agency a little richer and sparklier. But the witch from Snow White? She’s a character who references real-world sorcery. The same way the Huntsman references real-world people-who-hunted-for-a-living.

That is the difference. Sorcery vs. storytelling magic.

[deijavouu]

✧˖° ˚｡⋆✧˖°

[threepandas]

Bad End: Pray

Faith should not be transactional. Bartered to the highest bidder and sold as the winds shift. Bought with miracles and blessings. Heaped upon powerful champions and gifted at the sweet words of avatars. Perhaps it is old fashioned of me. Or maybe it is "naive" as I have often been accused.

To be honest, I am just not used to The Divine being so active.

Perhaps it is loyalty. Perhaps it is... faith. I do not know. But I can not imagine being swayed from the Goddess I serve. Not when... unlike BEFORE? I can... can actually FEEL Her presence.

I still laugh in disbelief sometimes. In AWE. Can you even IMAGINE? Sitting there, head bowed in prayer, in that quiet little temple of nowhere special, and... while expecting NOTHING? Feeling... feeling love. A gentle, all encompassing, hand that picks you up without moving you. Cradles your soul like a beloved child.

There aren't really words to explain what it feels like. It's somewhere between talking in circles, poetry, and gibberish. But BEAUTIFUL. So utterly, utterly beautiful. I can not comprehend why anyone would ever turn their back on her. Could EVER be bought with showy trinkets and bits of gold. Party tricks.

I am an outlier, in that regard.

Only myself and the Elders remain.

No one comes. Not to worship, not for blessings or wisdom. Not even to rest from the rain. Our humble temple more quiet then it has ever been. There was always SOMEONE. We are, after all, a temple too our Lady the Nox Viatoris. Keeper of those who travel at night, in places of peril, or should the worst occur... their soul's too safe resting. (Also, several small and fluffy nocturnal animals!)

"Night" was rather loosely defined, too. It honestly meant any place of low lighting. So a deep valley or cave worked too. Under belly of a city. Sewer system. We had smugglers, on occasion. They were generous. Honestly quiet devote. And as long as they didn't break the tenets of Our Lady's teachings? Well... what Oddly Weathy Worshiper with Working Knowledge Of Sewer Systems!

It was a well known joke. Everyone ignored them.

But one by one... they stopped coming.

The locals who's families had worshipped here for generations. The merchants who always came "just in case". The smugglers who "could use a bit of luck". Random travelers, guided by our Lady to a place of safety. I began to hear scoffs, as I went into town, from the younger generations. Get "concerned hints" from aunties and uncles I had know all my life.

Fellow priestess started too... drift away.

First seeming distracted, praying more, then praying less, going for longer and longer walks, their ceremonial robes getting increasingly half-hearted, then... after the final, damning stage of "staring off towards town a lot"? They would leave. Some with excuses. Others with vitriol. Our home colder and colder for each one gone.

The Elders heart's were breaking. They were watching the slow death of the only home they had ever known and could do nothing to stop it. The temple was dying. The children they had raised, the little ones who were all but grandchildren, abandoning them without second thought or simple discussion. For some whispered promise of foreign gods.

But I? I intend to stay, no matter what.

I who had been born to travels that did not want me, here in this temple that DID. Loved by these walls and this Lady. Who was given a second chance when my first ended so abruptly. Who would walk with Her one day. Proudly and with love. This was my home. Even if I had to take care of it by myself, I WOULD.

Things in town grew... vitriolic. Tense. Like a simmering heat had spread across the street where once, cool water flowed. It lurked beneath the surface. Volatile and burning, as bright colors seem to spread like sickness across the town. They felt... aggressive, somehow. Those colors. As though anyone NOT wearing them must answer for the crime of it.

I had them pushed upon me.

Again and again.

"It's cheerful!" "Look how bright and sunny they are!" "You'll look GREAT!"

I served a night goddess. The brightest color I was allowed to wear was off white to represent the moon and stars. Night blooming flowers if I could find them and justify it. It wasn't a matter of PREFERENCE. They KNEW this. I could NOT wear their gifts. Not the clothes. Not the jewelry. Not the decorations. None of it. Especially not with...suns... on it.

It was then I did more then just suspect. As I held the most recent gift, pushed upon me by well meaning friends. Struggling to remain patient. The sun sewn into the cheerfully dyed fabric MOCKED and sneered. Gaudy and ugly to my eyes. I turned, back to the temple, the rest of my shopping forgotten.

It could wait.

When I returned? I showed the Elders what I had been handed. Elder Antilla going so pale she nearly fainted. It was all that they had feared. At last, one of the major players had decided to swallow our tiny region whole. We were nothing but a small regional faith. Our Lady a weak but kind Divine in the grand scheme of things. She took care of us.

Could not offer us miracles and silks, honey and splendor. But she could love us. Protect our souls and guide us. The stronger Gods? Oh, they could offer SO MUCH more. Tempt and sway away Her faithful. Starve her into nothingness as they strip her of power. Consume her, as they had so many others before.

We had been safe.

Because we were far away and of little interest, tucked away between mountains that lead to nowhere of strategic worth. Few people to even convert. But seems... our time had run out. One of them had come for us. And oh... oh how EASY it had been for them to pour their power and wealth into swaying our faithful away. Buying their souls for a pittance of power and a laugh.

We had to sit down.

The mood grim.

The Elders would not live much longer, I knew. Perhaps that was why they were ignored. That, or the other God knew they could not sway them. They certainly would not sway me. I refused. Even if I had to worship alone. Became some cultist in the woods. I would NOT leave Her.

I prayed.

The silence felt deafening. But at least I was not alone. My Lady's arms held me close. As though trying to shield me from the world. Shaking, tears of grief that left no marks, dropping one after another upon my hair and skin. Suddenly the arms around me tightened in alarm. Pulled, as though commanding me to stand. To be ready to run. There was FEAR in that action.

I was on my feet at once. Turning towards the open air of the entrance.

Up the road, old and worn with the passing feet of countless travelers, came the crisp step of expensive boot leather. The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, all of it, seemed to hush as the sound of footsteps got closer. As though nature itself was afraid to draw attention of whatever was coming.

It was the light that changed first. No longer coming from just above us, yet somehow? It still was. The mid-day's sun was bright, cheerful, yet perfectly ordinary. Natural in the way countless summer day's have been. But the light coming from up the path? Low and shifting like a lantern swings, in a way that can only be ORGANIC?

It BURNED.

The sort of light that purges all in its path. That blinds and maims and burns. So hot everything becomes cold, as nerve endings char away. Like the blinding light off winter snow. Pale and reaching. Hungry. Consuming. W...What WAS that? It was getting closer. I backed deeper into the temple. Towards my Lady's idol.

The hush grew louder and louder, in it's terrible absence of sound.

The light brighter, as whatever IT was, got closer.

My eyes could see no shadows, so it probably wasn't real light. It hurt to look at. Yet it didn't hurt in the way staring at bright lights SHOULD hurt. It was painful because it had... claws? Thorns. Jagged, dragging edges that ripped at the something in me that SAW.

I could See because I needed to See, I think.

She NEEDED me to know what stood before me was not merely a man.

And THAT? That is the form it took. The liar and thief. A burning monster at the threshold of my home. Dressed in the finest silks and satins stolen faith can buy, the jewels glinting from his belt enough to buy several small nations. THAT was not a man. It just looked like one. Wore the face of one.

High Priest? Champion?

Goddess help me, an Avatar?

They were enmeshed. Woven so tightly they were all but an extension of the Divine. And it BURNED. Bright, holy, and terrible. A Sun standing before the Moon's own temple, with purging fire in its heart.

"Hello, little Thing. You've been quite stubborn, haven't you?"

They didn't raise their voice, yet still my bones felt like they rattled in my skin. The few windows we had, shook. Light fixtures swayed. I... I was afraid. I would NOT cower, but oh, Lady, I was afraid. His voice felt like the desert sighing against my skin. The edge of a threat.

"I lay out treats and you do not come. I invite the town and you will not hear me. You brothers and sisters kneel at my feet, yet you? You spurn me, too give your loyalty away for nothing."

I watch as he casually reaches to the air to his side. As though accepting something offered from someone who is not there. A cigarette. He tucks it into his mouth and cups the end, his finger glowing brightly as he lights it.

He takes a drag then exhales.

Letting the smoke whisp, rudely, past the unspoken barrier between us and into the temple proper. It's scent mixes discordantly with the incense. Making what was once lovely a cloying and choking mess. I watch him smirk as he takes another drag. Send more smoke inside.

His disrespect is deliberate.

"What can the festering night give, that the loving embrace of the day can not give better?"

His smirk rolls into the mimicry of a laugh. The monster's head tilted as though to consider my reaction even as the empty sound echoes against the temple's walls. It has the depth of a laugh track. The warmth of one. How... HOW has this CREATURE fooled ANYONE? Destroyed us so utterly? It is cruel.

"Ah~ so THAT'S what it is, you precious little Thing." He whispers, somehow the most terrible sound he has made so far. The power of it drags against me covetously, lingering like hands. "True Faith, given freely. You really do love her so, don't you? That wretched, unworthy, Nothing. Little Thing~, you should love ME instead."

It ended in a croon. As though trying to entice me. But all I could hear was static. The pounding of my heart as fear released adrenaline into my body, bringing the world into hyperfocus. "Me"? My ears had not deceived me, right? That THING in mockery of man's form... said "me"?

Oh, Nox Viatoris, our Lady who guides us, on darkest paths in deepest night... h.. hold my soul with kindness. Walk with me, on this broken, troubled path. That I may not face it alone. I... I am scared.

That... That was An AVATAR.

The extension of the Divine upon this mortal world. Not nearly their full power, but even a fraction of the INFINTE? Is beyond mortal capacity to fight. Only Avatars could handle other Avatars. On rare occasions, Champions, should they band together. But I... I was just a priestess. A humble child of nowhere.

Oh Goddess.

I back up. My back hitting the alter. I... I was probably going to die here. Our faith, wiped from the face of the map. I finally understood. He had come to stomp, like crushing ants, on what few hold outs dared linger at the fringes of his domain. Sent his Avatar to convert and destroy.

Our home would be nothing but rubble, wouldn't it? Generations of faith, gone. Our history, burned before his uncaring purge. At... oh Goddess, dear Lady, at least I would walk that final time with her. Could return the kindness she had shown so many. He was going to kill her. Kill US.

I...I refused to let her die alone.

Against my back, I felt the cool warmth of my Lady, leaning against me. Her unseen arms around me in comfort. For me or herself, I could not tell. It did not matter. I stood taller. Head high, shoulders back, feet shoulders wide. Shaking, yes, but unwilling to cower.

If I died today, I would walk proudly with Nox Viatoris.

The smile had slipped from the Avatar's face as it blankly regarded the spot directly behind me. Like a puppet sliding back into default in that absence of commands. I briefly wondered... who had he been? The faithful man, who gave up his form? Who was hollowed out and USED? He was beautiful. Had he been asked?

Or had he had this terrible thing inflicted upon him?

I would never know.

"That's rather annoying, you useless little parasite. She and I were having a conversation." The puppet's, the AVATAR'S mouth, barely moved. "Can't you go check on those wastes of space of yours? The ones that you've only barely managed to keep? They should be dead soon, you'll need to do your job. I'll take Good Care~ of this bright little soul. Don't bother coming back."

"No need." Came the deceptively soft rasp of the high priest. His normally kind face colder then I had ever seen it. Fierce and determined as he lead the other elders from the where they had been meeting in the gardens. Had the Goddess called them? Or had they simply sensed something was wrong?

"I am afraid that although the temple is said to be open to all, that is not, in fact, strictly true. Those that come here with malicious intent are not welcome. Nor those who come to cause trouble, intent regardless. YOU have caused grief and pain here. We do not welcome you to these halls. Please go."

Elder Lilam was subtly pushing me towards the back of the group. Their eyes somber as they met mine. I... I did not cry. There would been time for such things later, I hoped. I nodded back. Understood. Went, softly, on quiet feet. Past the alter, into the back, down the main hall on swift but not running feet.

To the back, where the wanderers bags were. For those our Lady calls suddenly to travel. To wander the roads in search of lost travelers in need of aid. I grabbed more then my fair share of bags. I... I did not suspect I would be coming back. Then into the back gardens. Where we grew herbs and vegetables for the kitchen.

The front of the temple SHOOK.

A terrible burning light. Heat and death. I barely kept my feet under me. Broke into a sprint. Away from the only home I had ever known. The Elders I was certain our Lady now walked to their rest. Towards the mountains and forests I had explored all my life. I... I could only hope they would protect me.

In my chest, the mantle of High Priestess settled. Heavy and mournful with our Lady's grief. I would have to carry the weight. There was no one else now. They were gone. With her. They had done all they could.

Felt their sorrow, their love, and it was all I could do not to let my tears blind me.

I needed to see the path. Could not risk missteping even once.

Behind me, down further below, and now hidden by the trees, I heard the temple crash and shake. As it was torn apart. Pillar by pillar, room by room, lifetimes of love and memories were destroyed. The murals painted in my childhood were surely gone by now. The hand carved doors that had lasted for centuries. Paint splatters and embroideries from generations of youth who had grown to call that place home.

Gone.

All of us, gone.

I ran.

I ran and I HATED myself for running. What could I DO? What could I POSSIBLY hope to DO? All I had left was to survive. Too carry them forward. It hurt. Worse then any breaking bone or burning skin. I couldn't even cry. I... I didn't have the TIME.

I hit the tree line. Didn't dare go too much higher. Didn't know if Avatars could fucking fly. Didn't want to find out the hard way. So many things I did not do. Was there anything left I DID do? Was GOOD for?

There was.

The shadowed place between two mountains. Mid-day had past. Afternoon was meandering towards days end. It would only get darker from here. Ha ha... where was this? When we need it? Oh, I knew. The monster timed his arrival well. At the height of his power.

But this was MY house now.

He may be stronger then me? But that meant NOTHING. I did not need power here. I needed SUBTLETY. A whisp of nothingness of a breeze of shadows. I could feel him, slow and steady, arrogant in his assumptions, pursuing me. He really did know NOTHING about those he destroyed. We were beneath his notice.

I hope the hubris burns as he chokes on it.

I slip between the mountains, into that deep rift of a valley, more crack then anything, and... VANISH. I am One with the Night. A traveler on Her path. Safe in her care. Sideways and one step removed from reality, as I race forward. No longer stumbling over uneven rocks and clambering on unstable terrain, the path beneath my feet is soft and smooth. I grin, as far away, that bastard falters.

"Oh, you clever little Thing. I forgot you still had tricks. Amusing~"

"It won't keep you from me though, I WILL have you in the end. And you will worship ME. Look only upon ME. And you will be my favorite, I think. I am going to chase you down, little Thing. So go ahead and pray. It will do you no good."

"You are going to be MINE, beautiful in the sunlight. You have no choice."

[doremimosasol]

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆

warnings: suggestive? honestly not really, nothing much tbh

word count: 3,6 k

summary: you being the only good chess player (you thought), could it be that you found a shared interest with Tom Riddle?

@thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge prompt 3

Tom loved wizarding chess, it was the thing that he was best in. Yet he hasn't found anyone yet who was enough of a challenge for him to compete with. He wasn't just good, he was just absolutely phenomenal at chess. He gave up on finding a match for himself, playing against nothingness, preparing moves for god knows whom.

That was until he saw you, you were practicing in the courtyard. Your feet were pulled under your legs, sitting cross-legged while focused on your game. There was a slight frown on your face, lost in concentration to beat the air. There was a way to enchant an opponent, but for the best, those weren't even good enough to win. It was boring not having a partner to play with, but it was the best you've got right now.

He leaned against a pillar close to you and observed your game. You were good, but were you good enough to beat him? He knew it was sort of an advantage, watching you play for a while before he'd ask you to play against him. But no one said Tom was a fair guy, he'd do anything to win. He'd never recover from a loss in wizarding chess, the game he was supposed to be best at. The game that was supposed to be his talent to always win in.

But you seemed good too. You knew great opening moves, you checkmated the fake opponent in 5 moves sometimes. You knew a lot, things he didn't even know others knew about. Moves he thought only he knew about. Even openings he thought he came up with himself. It seemed as if you knew the game through at through, he had never met anyone like you. You were different, fascinating, yet so different than the rest.

It was extremely enchanting to watch you play, to watch you win every single time. You, you were the person he'd been looking for, for months now, for years even.

Wizarding chess didn't start for him when he started attending Hogwarts. He didn't even know it was a thing before. He found a way to enchant the pieces himself back when he lived in the orphanage, the great wizard he was back then already. He crafted stuff he found around the home into pieces to use during his games.

He endlessly played, going again and again. It was his favorite thing to do, besides cursing other students at the orphanage. It wasn't on purpose, his anger sometimes just got the best of him. Before he knew it some of his classmates fell down the stairs. Was it his fault? No, because he didn't know how to control it. Did he enjoy it though? Probably yes.

He watched you sigh as you won another game once again, seemingly bored by the lack of competition. That's when you started talking, his heart almost dropped. "You know, you can also play with me instead of watching me from a distance. I can see you're studying the way I play, don't you think that's a bit unfair?"

He almost looked shocked. You couldn't have possibly seen him standing there? You didn't even look up once to be able to notice him, yet you did. "To answer your question, you aren't subtle." That's when you looked up at him, and that's when he first saw your face clearly.

You were beautiful to him, the only thing that bothered him was the yellow tie you were wearing. A Hufflepuff? That couldn't be possible, right? To him, there was no possibility of intelligence in any other house than Slytherin. Someone needs to tell this man that his house isn't superior. It caught him slightly off guard before he decided to speak up.

"Play with me." He got straight to the point. He saw you as a challenge and he wanted to test you, see if he could beat you. Of course, he could, he was sure of it. Always so goddamn sure of himself.

You laughed at the way he was so insistent. "Fine." You got up and made the board disappear with a flick of your wand. "Tomorrow evening in the great hall." You smiled softly and walked off into the castle.

He was intrigued. He often saw you walking in the hallway, you had a lot of friends. It seemed like people adored you. He always connected having a lot of friends with being unintelligent but now he was rethinking those prejudices. He even was thinking of giving you the first chance to become friends with him. He'd view it as an honor, getting to be friends with him. God, he was so full of himself. He should feel honored himself to be friends with you. Everyone wanted to be friends with you.

The next day, you sat in the great hall, setting up the pieces as you waited for him. The hall was dimly lit by the floating candles hanging over the tables.

When he came in, he noticed you sitting at the Hufflepuff table. It didn't feel right to him to not sit by the Slytherin table but he put his pride aside and decided not to annoy you by asking to switch places. But he was thinking about it the whole evening, hoping no one would walk in on it. Every other Slytherin could care less, they sat at other tables all the time.

He sat down in front of you and you immediately lifted your head to look him in the eyes, a small smile forming when you noticed him. Why were you always smiling? It was so weird to him, you didn't even have a reason to smile. But you never needed one.

"Are you ready for me to beat your ass?" You raised your brows and he scoffed mockingly.

"I bet you've mistaken me with someone else because I never lose." He had such a competitive glint in his eyes, you've never seen anyone this serious about chess.

You chuckled at his confidence. Oh how disappointed he'll be, poor Tom. "We'll see..."

You were white, which allowed you to make the first move. It wasn't always an advantage but you were always white, it had never been different. Good thing Tom always played black. It was like both of you were made to play against each other.

"Pawn to e4." And the game was on.

It took you probably less than 20 minutes to checkmate him. Easy... He was probably too confident, thinking he could easily win. His confidence played into his disadvantage.

The second game, won after 40 minutes. He was already fuming by now. You saw the determination in his eyes, he couldn't lose again. He must win. At least once.

The fourth time, won again. It was a longer game, it took up to an hour. But you did it once again without any flaws. Oh, but he was so mad by now. His knuckles turned white by the way he was clenching his hands into fists.

"Filthy cheater, we go again!"

Could it be that the Tom Riddle was a sore loser?

"What is it? Can't stand that I'm easily winning? When will you give up Tom?" You were so enjoying getting him all worked up, it was quite the sight.

"I'll play again on one condition. The loser grants the winner a wish this time. What do you say? Are you in?" You extended your hand for him to shake, you loved making deals like this. It's because you always won, and that way always were granted a wish.

"Deal."

"You're going to regret this, y/n." You so wished you could wipe that smirk off of his face. You were going to win.

Oh, but how so wrong you were...

After 50 minutes, of a heavy and hard game, you lost for the first time ever in your entire life. It felt awful, especially since now you had to grant him a wish. You didn’t show it though, too prideful to give him this kind of satisfaction.

"Won. Guess you'll grant me my wish." He raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, he analyzed your reactions and was satisfied to see an annoyed look on your face.

"What is your wish? Want me to announce to the whole school that you won, because I'll do just that." You were expecting that to be his wish so you already stood up to do it.

"Sit back down, it's something different."

Something different? What exactly could he want from you to do?

"Go on a date with me. Tomorrow night in the Room of Requirement." He sounded so confident, so determined to take you on that date.

A date?! Why in the world would he want to take you on a date? It almost sounded ridiculous to your ears. You never spoke before now, he didn't even know you. Why in the hell would he ever want to take you on a date?

"A date? Like… you and me?" He must have seen the confusion on your face, it was as obvious as the red color painting your face. You were blushing, unwillingly, but oh you were blushing hard.

"Well, I mean unless you have another definition for a date. Yes, you and me, tomorrow night. You can't say no, we made a deal."

And so you got yourself a date with Tom Riddle, you've never ever been on a date before. It'd be nerve-wracking enough with someone you knew well, but you didn't know Tom all too well. You felt like dying from the stress.

Was it even like a serious real date? You didn't even know what to wear, you lay out almost your whole closet on your bed but weren't satisfied with anything.

You even had to get your best friend to your room to help you out. Eventually, she chose a short black dress for you, it wasn't too short, classy and elegant even.

While you were almost eating your nails, you didn't know Tom was freaking out himself. Unlike you, Tom didn't have anyone to get advice from. It was all by himself, and not being experienced in these kinds of things, he was nervous. You wouldn't expect the calmth himself to be nervous, but he was quite literally freaking out.

He prepared everything since noon, he wanted it to be perfect. But also he started to think if it was too much? Or was it too little? The evening couldn't come soon enough or he'd have walked around the Room of Requirement twenty times.

You've never been to the Room of Requirement before, you've heard of it though. It'd show up when you most needed it but you didn't even feel like you needed anything at the moment. You just hoped it'd miraculously show up as you were walking through the corridors. That's when you heard a strange sound, it made you look up at the wall next to you. A large door appeared, guess this was it.

When you entered the room you were immediately greeted by the smell of freshly made food and a faint smell of roses. It's a smell you've always loved.

"Y/n, you came." He was wearing an all-black suit. God, he looked hot. Why haven't you noticed that yet about him? You were stunned, nailed to the ground. Your eyes on him that way put a smirk on his face, you were too easy.

It was different than you imagined, the way people described the room. It was often described as a large place with piles of stuff and goods but this place was clean not all too big and almost felt like a place to live. It was an open room with a book nook, a bedroom, a kitchen, a fireplace with a large couch, and a dinner table in the middle of it. It seemed to match his personality quite well.

Large iron snakes decorated the walls and the roof was painted with constellations. The room was mostly green, but not an unpleasant kind of green, a warm cozy green. It was pretty and the more you looked around, the better view you got of his personality. It's as if this room was painted to show what he was like.

It was obvious he loved silver. All the decorations were silver: the small snake details, the cutlery, and even the rings he was wearing. That's when you noticed his hands. Even during chess, you didn't pay them much mind but now you did...

His fingers wore several silver rings, some fingers covered by more than one. It was surprisingly attractive in a way, you almost felt wrong for staring at him that way but you couldn't help it.

He decided not to say anything about it but just let it slide. It'd be something he could tease you about later this evening, he just needed to find the right opportunity.

"You look beautiful." His eyes roamed your body like it was a piece of art, a piece of art he wished only he'd be able to admire. It wasn’t a creepy kind of look, you felt pretty under his gaze. He suddenly felt this weird feeling of possessiveness, something weird.

"Thank you, you look handsome yourself." That smile that painted your face again, was something he'd never get enough of. Something he wanted to get to see every day and together with that red blush on your cheeks. He felt powerful to make you feel so flustered. You weren't flustered quite often, however, he was someone who finally succeeded in doing so.

"Sit down, I'll bring the food."

The table was covered in red roses, thorns still attached. It was beautiful honestly, simple but stunning. The cutlery was engraved with roses too and a snake circling it. It was obvious that he was proud of his family history.

During dinner, you both talked about yourselves, explaining how you acquired the talent in chess. It was something your grandfather had taught you. He took care of you quite often while your parents were at work.

"They were great aurors, but not so great parents. I can't blame them honestly, I know they have a duty. I just sometimes wished they spent a bit more time with me. But it's honestly fine, my grandfather was a great man."

He always wished to have that kind of bond with a family member, it's something that always had been absent in his life. A void he so desperately wished to fill.

You motioned to the roses on the table. "They're pretty, but the school grounds don't grow roses... Where did you get them?"

He gives you that mischievous smile. "It's my secret."

It was a nice evening, the food was good and he was so much nicer than you expected. He was like a totally different person than when he was losing in chess.

A week passed and you hadn't heard from him since. You didn't dare to speak to him, scared he might not want to talk to you. Guess this was it, it was a nice evening but probably only a one-time thing. Maybe this is what he did with all the girls, getting a taste of their personality and going on to the next. You didn't view him like that at all but your view on guys wasn't all too great, so what else were you supposed to think?

It was until one night when you entered your dorm, a rose lay in front of your door. The thorns were removed and a small envelope was attached to it. You entered your room and sat down on your bed to open it.

"Meet me at the front gate just before dawn. - TR ps. check the envelope"

Check the envelope? It didn't feel like there was something else in there but decided to check...

A ring.

A silver ring, one of the rings he was wearing last week. It was the one that stood out the most, a green emerald covering the middle. It was a thick ring but it was so magnificent, you were drawn by the beauty of it. It must've cost such a great fortune. Why would he gift you this?

Just when you were about to put the envelope away, something else fell out: a thin silver chain. Did he want you to wear it as a necklace?

You decided to attach it to the thin chain and put it around your neck before getting ready to leave for the front gate. You didn't see the need to get all dressed up like last time, just something to keep yourself warm in this cold weather.

Approaching the large gate, he was already standing there. He was leaning against it, his eyes searching for something... "Come here." He motioned for you to come closer. There was something else in his eyes today, something mysterious but not scary. Just mysterious.

He traced your jaw and moved his fingers down your neck until he felt the cold touch of jewelry. He took it from underneath your shirt and lay it over your sweater. "Don't hide it, wear it with pride."

Without letting you answer he entered the courtyard, expecting you to follow him. "To answer your question..." You didn't even ask one, however, you'd like to know why he gave it to you.

He entered the school grounds, pausing his words before continuing. "I thought you would've liked it more around your neck than around my fingers. But I bet you didn't really mind staring at them, did you?" He caught you.

He looked at you with a smirk, enjoying seeing you flustered once again. "I wanted to show you something, I just needed to find the right day. Tonight seemed perfect."

He stopped for you to catch up with him and once you did, he took your hand in his. "You seem nervous, princess?" The cold of his rings touching your hand caught you off guard before deciding to answer. "Maybe I am."

"You shouldn't be." It was all he said before he stopped in front of a large rock, casting a spell on it before it revealed a large meadow.

"I know you're surprised, but we have to get in fast before it closes again." Once you both stepped inside, you noticed the meadow was covered by a bed of red roses.

This must be the place where he got all the roses... He moved behind you, his chest pressing against your back before he moved his hand around your neck to the front. He slowly moved it up to your chin, making you look up to the sky. "Look up, y/n."

Above you were the same constellations painted on the roof in his Room of Requirement. It was an exact copy of this place here, he made it exactly alike.

His fingers now moved back to your neck, taking the hair in front with him to give him access to your neck. You sensed him moving his lips closer to your ear, slightly touching the shell with his lips. "Do you like it? You're the first person to know."

Your breath caught in your throat once his lips touched your neck, he slowly moved lower. "Mhmm?" That's when he stuck out his tongue slightly to get a taste of your neck. "Answer me, y/n."

"Yes, I do... I do like it."

"Mhmm, good." He slowly started sucking on your neck, biting it every few seconds before turning you around to make you face him. His hand moved to the piece of hair covering your face, moving it behind your ear.

You couldn't help but take a glance at his lips, he was being extremely tempting right now. A sudden urge pulled you closer to him, you wanted to be closer to him. His gaze averted to your lips too, both of you almost touching now but not quite yet.

"Kiss me."

And that's exactly what you did, there was no shame in your actions, you weren't ashamed of how you were truly feeling. It felt right and natural...

He pushed his fingers through your hair and grabbed it softly, earning a soft moan from you as a result. Exactly what he wanted. He wasted no time to push his tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like it were a map. He needed to have tasted every part, twice to remember it.

The kiss became more intense as you both pressed against each other. Your bodies were pressed up against each other so tightly it was as if you were one entity. Your kisses were filled with heat, each kiss made his heart skip a beat. Your lips were so soft and your kisses were so passionate. It was almost as if your lips were made to please each other.

His hand moved away slightly to take his wand and with a flick, all roses grown in the ground immediately got rid of their thorns. Without a warning he picked you up and lay you down with him, his body on top of yours.

He pulled away to admire the sight of you lying on the bed of roses, your hair was spread all over the ground and he almost couldn't contain himself. He moved closer to whisper in your ear once again. "This is quite the sight but I’d much rather enjoy it without clothes..."

[queerism1969]

[k-wame]

THREE TICKETS TO CHALLENGERS PLEASE MUNICH: THE EDGE OF WAR (2021) · dir. Christian Schwochow