#some of these won by a very thin margin

[nekogorogoro]

This or That

I was tagged by: @steamcaptain

Tagging: @writing-biting @eggymcdegy @perphella @fire-rose @portalcartoon

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Clean Template:

coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

[perfectsunlight]

21 ⸺ TYPE

warnings: infidelity, angst, swearing

word count: 3.2k

part of the series: LOGICAL

when aeri read it, her heart stopped. she read it again, and then again, trying to make sense of it. somi? with chaeyoung? the two people she trusted most? she hadn’t seen it coming. not even a little. 

at least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. deep down, she always feared this moment would come.

aeri had always felt like she wasn’t enough for somi, but now, seeing the confirmation of her worst fear in that single text, it all came crashing down. 

and all she could think about was how she wasn’t the type of girl somi really wanted. 

or maybe she never had been.

jeon somi had more ex-girlfriends than she could count on her hands. she was tall, blonde, and very athletic—anything a girl could have ever wanted. similar to lisa, girls followed somi around like moths to a flame. whether it was her charming smile or her flirtatious nature, somi had no trouble finding someone new, someone fun. she thrived on the chase, always seeming to have someone wrapped around her finger.

but aeri had been different.

the japanese girl wasn’t like anyone she had ever met. somi usually went for the ones with carefree attitudes and a bit more rough around the edges. tattoos, piercings, and wild nights out were usually her style. 

but aeri was serious, quiet, and more grounded. she was always around the basketball team but never part of the spotlight. as the team manager, she kept her head down, organizing schedules, making sure everyone had what they needed, and barely giving somi a second glance. 

and maybe that was what had intrigued somi in the first place. 

aeri didn’t care that somi was the best center in the league, or that every other girl in the gym was vying for her attention. she didn’t care that the taller girl had a fanclub that waited to take pictures with her after every game, some even asking for her number as well.

to her, somi’s achievements and popularity were irrelevant. 

the first time somi had asked aeri out, she’d been friendzoned faster than she could blink. 

it was after a particularly exciting game against hanyang university, where ygu had won by a massive margin. the gym had buzzed with the energy of the win, the crowd’s cheers echoing off the walls as the team celebrated. the players, sweaty and exhilarated, were starting to disperse, while aeri was methodically packing up the equipment, her focus on tidying up the chaos left behind.

somi approached, her usual confident character on display. her dyed blonde hair was damp from sweat, sticking to her forehead in a way that made her look more approachable. she grinned broadly, the kind of smile that was more than just a bit friendly, and leaned casually against the table where aeri was working.

“hey, aeri,” somi said, her voice bright and casual. “you up for celebrating with the team tonight?”

the japanese girl barely looked up from the clipboard she was scribbling on. with a practiced efficiency, she finished jotting down notes and then glanced at somi with a polite and disinterested thin smile.

“no,” she replied, her tone steady and unflustered. “i’m not interested.”

somi’s smile faltered for just a moment, her eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. she straightened up, pushing off from the table, but her body language remained open, trying to keep the mood light. “oh, alright. well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

aeri nodded, already turning her attention back to the clipboard. “i won’t be changing my mind.” and with that, she turned on her heel, walking briskly towards coach irene and coach taeyeon who were discussing the game’s highlights.

as she watched the shorter girl walk away, somi’s shoulders slightly slumped in defeat. 

the energy she had carried into the conversation had dissipated, leaving her standing alone, a lingering frown creasing her brow. she watched as aeri moved towards the coaches, blending back into the background of the post-game routine, and realized that the casual rejection had not only stung but had also stirred up a deeper, unsettling awareness of aeri’s indifference.

jeon somi knew she had to try again. she just had to. the first rejection had stung more than she’d let on, but it hadn’t deterred her. instead, it had fueled her determination. she convinced herself that persistence might win out in the end, that maybe if she kept trying, aeri would eventually see her in a different light.

the second time somi asked aeri out, it was during media day, a high-energy event where the team was swarmed by reporters and photographers. the gym was buzzing with the activity of the media, flashing cameras, and the loud hum of excited chatter. the team’s new uniforms were on display, and everyone was in high spirits, mingling and preparing for the season ahead.

somi spotted aeri amidst the chaos, standing near a backdrop where players were taking their promotional photos. aeri was dressed in her usual managerial attire, a sleek blazer over her team polo, her hair pulled back neatly. she was chatting with a couple of reporters, her demeanor calm and professional. somi took a deep breath, steeling herself for another attempt.

with a confident stride, somi made her way over, navigating through the crowd of reporters and camera flashes. she approached aeri with a warm, friendly smile, trying to exude an air of casual charm.

“hey, aeri,” somi said, her voice rising above the background noise. “got a second?”

the dark haired girl looked up from her conversation, her eyes meeting the center’s with a mixture of surprise and a faint smile. she was clearly busy, but she made a polite effort to engage. 

“yes?”

somi took a small step closer, leaning in with a hopeful grin as she clasped her hands together. “i was thinking, with the season starting soon and everything, maybe we could have dinner tomorrow night? just the two of us. what do you say?”

the japanese girl’s smile widened, but it was accompanied by a hint of incredulity. she laughed lightly, shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “you��re really persistent, i’ll give you that.” her tone was warm but laced with a gentle mockery.

the blonde’s grin faltered just a touch, but she maintained her hopeful gaze as she rocked back and forth on her heels. “so, is that a yes?”

aeri’s laughter was soft, almost incredulous. she shook her head again, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “no, i’m not interested. you should know by now.”

somi’s smile dimmed, and she nodded, trying to mask her disappointment. “alright. maybe another time? when do you have some time? what’s your schedule like next week?”

aeri offered a sympathetic smile but turned her attention back to the reporters, signaling that the conversation was over. somi lingered for a moment, the weight of the rejection settling heavily on her. the lively atmosphere of the event felt distant now, overshadowed by the sting of the repeated rebuff. 

as she walked away, she couldn’t shake the mix of frustration and resignation. despite her persistence, it seemed that winning aeri’s affection was going to be far more elusive than she had ever anticipated.

but the more aeri resisted, the more somi wanted her.

by the time she considered trying a third time, somi was determined. she didn’t even care about aeri’s supposed indifference anymore. it had turned into a challenge, something she needed to win. but what somi hadn’t expected was that, somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about winning aeri over. 

she had started falling for her—hard. 

everytime aeri came in for practice, somi lost all focus.  the sight of her managing the team with that efficient grace, the way she interacted with the players, her infectious laughter—it all had a magnetic pull on somi. even the simplest gestures, like aeri adjusting her glasses or brushing a strand of hair away from her face, became captivating. it was as if somi was seeing aeri in a new light, each moment amplifying the depth of her feelings.

one evening, after a particularly grueling practice, somi found herself lingering by the gym’s entrance, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. the players had dispersed, but aeri was still there, packing up her things. somi watched as aeri’s movements were precise and deliberate, her focus intense. it was a side of aeri that somi had come to admire, the dedication and professionalism that seemed to shine even in the smallest details.

taking a deep breath, somi approached aeri, who was now organizing her clipboard and making last-minute notes. somi’s heart raced, not just from the anticipation of asking aeri out again but from the realization of how deeply her feelings had grown. she could no longer deny that this wasn’t just a challenge—it was something much more profound.

“hey aeri,” somi began, her voice slightly hesitant but filled with genuine emotion. “uh, can i talk to you for a minute?”

aeri looked up, her eyebrows slightly raised in curiosity. she set down her clipboard and gave somi her full attention. “sure, what’s up?”

somi took a step closer, her gaze steady. “i know i’ve asked you out a couple of times before and you’ve turned me down. i get that. but i need to be honest with you. i really like you, aeri.”

the other girl’s expression softened, but there was still a flicker of surprise in her eyes. she considered somi’s words, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting somi’s again. 

“i appreciate your feelings, somi,” aeri said with a sigh. “but i have a lot on my plate right now. tomorrow night, i’m completely booked with team obligations and personal commitments. it’s just not a good time for me.”

somi’s heart sank slightly, but she tried to maintain a hopeful smile. “i understand. i didn’t expect you to be free.” the basketball player rubbed the back of her neck in defeat, trying to ignore the pang in her chest.

the japanese girl began to gather her things, preparing to leave. somi simply watched her, feeling a mix of sadness and resignation. just as aeri reached the door, she paused, her hand resting on the handle. she turned back towards somi with a thoughtful expression.

“what about the day after tomorrow?” aeri asked, her tone a bit more tentative. somi’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope, her sadness momentarily forgotten. “the day after tomorrow? are you sure?”

aeri nodded, offering a small smile. “yeah, i should be free then.”

somi’s heart swelled with a renewed sense of optimism. she couldn’t help the grin that formed from ear to ear. when aeri finally said yes, after months of persistent flirting and half-serious jokes, somi felt like she had conquered the impossible.

once they started dating, things were a bit rocky. aeri had always felt out of place in somi’s world. 

she wasn’t like the other girls somi had dated, and she knew it. somi had never said it outright, but aeri could feel it in the small, subtle ways—the way somi’s gaze would linger just a little too long on other girls, or the way her friends would make comments about somi’s type. 

aeri had tried to ignore it, tried to believe that somi really wanted her, but the insecurity never left.

maybe that’s what had slowly started to pull them apart.

aeri had always feared that one day, somi would wake up and realize she could do better—find someone more exciting, someone who fit her lifestyle. she had always worried she wasn’t enough, and now, standing in her apartment, staring at lisa’s text, it felt like all those insecurities had been right.

she had never been enough for somi.

son chaeyoung was somi’s best friend since college started. they had met at one of the many parties thrown during welcome week and they clicked instantly. chaeyoung was everything aeri feared she wasn’t—confident, carefree, and spontaneous. where she tended to overthink and second-guess herself, chaeyoung just seemed to live in the moment. 

she fit perfectly into somi’s world, the one aeri always felt slightly out of place in.

how could she not have seen it?

sure, she had known about somi’s history—about the exes, the flings, the friends with benefits. she had always been surrounded by people, and aeri was just always hovering on the outskirts of somi’s chaotic, lively life. but even though aeri had friend-zoned somi more than once, she’d let her walls down eventually, let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, somi had chosen her.

but maybe somi had never really chosen her at all.

she thought about the little things—the way somi would glance at her during practice, the shy, teasing smile that only aeri ever seemed to notice. the way that the taller girl would wrap her jacket around her during winter practices, knowing how cold the gym was. or even how everytime somi scored, she’d make the letter “a” with her fingers and put it on her heart.

was it all a lie? did anything have any meaning?

“aeri,” somi’s voice was heard from outside the japanese girl’s apartment door. “please. let me explain.”

the mentioned girl stood frozen, her hand hovering over the doorknob. somi’s voice, muffled but pleading, cut through the numbness that had settled in her chest. explain? what could possibly explain this? but something in her still wanted to hear it. maybe it was the part of her that didn’t want to believe it was all over. 

maybe it was the part of her that still loved somi, despite everything.

with a shaky breath, aeri unlocked the door and pulled it open. somi stood there, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, tears streaking down her face. she looked a mess, and definitely heartbroken. but aeri wasn’t ready to feel sympathy—not yet.

somi took a hesitant step inside, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “i—i’m sorry,” she stammered. “i just, look, i didn’t mean for any of this to happen once, let alone twice.”

aeri stayed silent, closing the door behind her. her arms were crossed, more out of self-protection than anything else. “what exactly didn’t you mean to happen, somi?” her voice was cold, a sharp contrast to the trembling girl in front of her. “what do you mean it happened twice?”

the blonde’s gaze fell to the floor, the weight of her confession hanging heavily in the air. “aeri, please,” she took a step forward, her hands raised as if to ward off the distance. “it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

she felt her heart race, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the features on her girlfriend’s face. “what do you mean it happened twice?” she repeated, the tension in her voice palpable. she had known something was wrong, but she had convinced herself that she was just being paranoid. 

she wasn’t.

somi hesitated, her breath hitching as she tried to find the right words. she ran a hand through her hair and sighed deeply before looking back at the shorter girl. “the first time was just a kiss,” she finally admitted, her voice shaky. “i was with chaeyoung, and it happened when we were out celebrating. i was drunk and i didn’t think it meant anything.”

aeri felt her heart drop. she had never known about that. and the fact that the girl she loved kept it a secret for so long seemed to make her feel even worse. “a kiss? you kissed her? and then you slept with her? how is that supposed to make sense?”

“no! i didn’t sleep with her then. that was a mistake, too. but last night? that was different.” somi’s eyes were wide with fear, her voice rising with desperation. “i swear, i didn’t mean for any of it to happen! i was confused. i thought we were okay, and then—”

“clearly, we weren’t okay. you knew we weren’t okay,” aeri shot back, her voice trembling with hurt. “how could you do this to me? i trusted you, somi. i thought you loved me.”

“i do love you!” somi cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. her heart was entirely the japanese girl’s. even if she didn’t show it “you have to believe me. but at that moment, everything got blurry. it was chaeyoung, and she was there, and i didn’t think—”

“didn’t think what?” the brunette’s voice was low and dangerous, her heart racing. “didn’t think about how i would feel? didn’t think about what it would mean for us? didn’t think you were making a mistake?”

somi’s shoulders slumped as she struggled to articulate her feelings. “i didn’t want to hurt you, aeri. i thought it was just a moment, something that wouldn’t change anything between us. but then i woke up next to her and realized...”

“realized what?” aeri pressed, her voice icy. “that you made the wrong choice? that you let someone else in when you should have been with me?”

her girlfriend swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she reached out toward aeri. “i didn’t mean for it to happen. i promise. i wanted to be with you, but—”

“but what?” aeri challenged, her heart aching. “you tell me that you wanted me, but you didn’t think twice about sleeping with your best friend?” somi’s eyes were filled with tears as she shook her head. “no, please don’t say that. i care about you more than anything. but i messed up. i messed up so badly. and i hate myself for it.”

aeri felt a deep pain in her chest, a raw ache that wouldn’t go away. “you think saying you hate yourself changes anything? you’ve already made your choice. and now, you’ve lost me.”

the taller girl stepped back, her face crumpling in despair. “please, aeri don’t do this.” the center fell to her knees, continuing to plead with tear-filled eyes. "i can't lose you. i can't—" her voice cracked, her heart visibly breaking before the japanese girl’s eyes.

her hands trembled as she stared down at the blonde, her chest tightening with emotions she couldn’t entirely suppress. she had told herself not to give in, not to let somi’s tears sway her, but seeing her like this made it so much harder.

“you already have,” aeri whispered, her words making somi’s head spin and her heart shatter into the remaining fragments that were left of it. “i’m done. we’re done.”

the next day at practice, the team manager felt as if she was watching a stranger on the court. somi was clearly off her game, unfocused and distracted, a shadow of the dominant center she usually was. her movements were sluggish, lacking the usual power and precision that made her such a key player. every missed shot, every fumbled pass, only seemed to deepen the frustration etched across her face.

it truly did pain the uchinaga girl to see the girl she loved like that, but somi had done it to herself. 

lisa shook her head everytime the center fumbled a play or missed a shot, leaning over to y/n with a scoff. “she’s a mess today,” the thai girl muttered, her frustration evident as she watched somi stumble through another drill. “she needs to get her shit together.”

y/n frowned, her eyes following the blonde’s every move. “something must’ve happened,” she whispered quietly, concern creeping into her voice. she glanced at aeri and then made a quick glance towards her girlfriend.

because although it was unusual, y/n couldn’t help but feel like her girlfriend had something to do with this, too. 

TAGLIST ⸺ ✭ @silantryoo @rosiehrs @niniwhiskers @cwpiqwon @jisooftme @1luvkarina @scarfac3 @santasbitch @lisas-earlobe @wallfl9wer @aerihiltonn @unforgivenangel @uzumakioden @skydreamed @haerinfangs @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @haerinkisser @giginings @lilsvx @milanlaia @pandafuriosa60 @wifey-badalee @slowlyturninggay291 @dreamingst99 @7daysronnie @thefckghost @drawing-into-the-night @xszn

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Andy Craig at The UnPopulist:

In 1801, when President John Adams peacefully accepted defeat and ceded power to the winner of the prior year’s election, his partisan opponent Thomas Jefferson, it established a model for how electoral contests, even sharply divided ones, would conclude in our burgeoning republic. It was, substantially, the first time anything like it had ever happened. Over time, as elections attracted novel challenges of various sorts—such as the 1876 presidential contest—Congress and the states passed new legislation, and sometimes constitutional amendments, and courts provided rulings that accumulated in more procedural certainty. For the most part, we got by without triggering very many electoral crises thanks to candidates of all political affiliations following longstanding norms. We can no longer take those norms for granted.

Donald Trump’s avowedly anti-democratic stance, in both the previous election and this one, isn’t grounded in serious arguments about flaws in our electoral processes, or fairly arguable legal disputes. He rejects the premise, root and branch, that voters should ultimately be able to go with someone else instead, and that his power should be checked in any way by the rule of law. He is not running for president, he is running for dictator. Trump and allies filed over 60 lawsuits in 9 different states after the 2020 election—none with any merit. When legal efforts weren’t leading anywhere, he resorted to fraud and then to violence. And if things don’t go his way on Nov. 5, he’s likely to attempt even more of the same. But we should resist treating his electoral challenges with a legitimacy they don’t possess. We shouldn’t normalize what is essentially a repudiation of our democracy, not a good-faith challenge to the accuracy of vote totals or our election processes. These are not just questions of law, with answers to be found in the Constitution and statutes and court rulings. They are an attack on our fundamental political philosophy as a nation, the principles of the Declaration of Independence.

Trump’s Election Claims Aren’t Genuine Legal Challenges

Today, largely in response to the turmoil following the 2020 election, the legal architecture around election disputes has become more robust. The Electoral Count Reform Act (ECRA), which passed with bipartisan support in 2022, tightened the procedures for certifying presidential results, ensuring that no vice president or rogue state officials can obstruct the will of the voters. Some states have also taken measures to shore up weak points in the administration and certification of their election results. But while the law has evolved, the fundamental reality hasn’t changed. No recount or post-election lawsuit is capable of flipping a presidential election unless the apparent margin of victory is razor-thin—as in, no more than a few hundred votes in a decisive swing state.

Of course, the arguments advanced in the aftermath of the 2020 election were completely spurious, both factually false and legally baseless. Voting machines did not alter the count. Trump’s claims of millions of illegal votes were made up out of thin air. Changes made to accommodate the pandemic were lawful, and upheld by the courts, and happened in states Trump won as much as those he lost. Nor did botched social media policies about Hunter Biden’s laptop affect the outcome, not that such a thing could be legally relevant anyway. State legislatures do not have the power to overturn presidential election results. Neither do governors and secretaries of state have the power to refuse certification. The fake electors scheme was completely bogus, and the conspirators who instigated the attempt knew it. The last-ditch litigation by Texas suing Pennsylvania and other swing states won by Biden was so frivolous the Supreme Court refused to even hear it. Mike Pence did not have the power to change the result, and neither did Congress under the circumstances. And yet, most of these same lies are being repeated now.

The groundwork being laid for Trump to overturn a defeat, if he is in fact defeated, is far more ambitious than any sincere dispute over a genuinely close outcome. These attempts cannot be reduced to mere creative lawyering, or trying to find the right legal loophole. Treating them as such, even in rebutting them, grants these schemes a patina of legitimacy they do not deserve. They are pure lawlessness. Like the attempt to overturn the last election, which Joe Biden won by tens of thousands of votes across multiple states, these plans are not pursuing any colorable legal theory. They are a criminal conspiracy—as one federal judge put it: “a coup in search of a legal theory.”

[...]

Recounts Adjust, They Don’t Overturn

Recounts exist to correct small errors, not to rewrite history. When every vote is recounted, slight adjustments are inevitable, but they are typically minor—a handful of votes here, a few miscategorized ballots there. In highly unusual cases, the final tally shifts by a few hundred votes, but even that is the upper limit. Often it’s less that; a recent statewide recount in Washington, where the candidates were initially separated by only 53 votes, ended up moving the margin by just two votes. The reality is that modern voting systems and election administration methods, despite their imperfections, are remarkably accurate. They are designed to withstand the occasional human error or technological hiccup without compromising the overall result. Even if a court finds evidence of localized errors or irregularities, the remedy is proportional to the scope of the problem. If some ballots are misread or reported incorrectly, the solution is to correct the mistake—not to invalidate thousands of legitimate votes. Legal challenges that aim to disqualify broad swaths of the electorate or overturn certified results require proof of systemic failures or outright fraud on an extraordinary scale.

[...]

The Myth of Widespread Fraud

Donald Trump and his allies, including X owner Elon Musk and Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, have been busily pushing the idea that non-citizens are voting in large numbers and tipping elections. There is no evidence to support this claim, but that hasn’t stopped them from using it as a rallying cry. It is worth being blunt: the idea that there is widespread voter fraud going on is an utter myth. Exhaustive investigations by election officials, courts, journalists, and independent watchdogs have consistently found that improper voting happens at rates so low as to be statistically irrelevant. Georgia, for example, identified a small number of incorrect registrations, but could not identify a single non-citizen who’d actually cast a ballot. Even in the few cases where non-citizens or ineligible voters have cast ballots, the numbers are minuscule. Isolated instances, often the result of confusion rather than malice, and which involve members of both parties, are not sufficient to swing a presidential election. In the vast majority of elections, the margin of victory is measured in thousands of votes or more, far beyond the impact of any sporadic irregularities. In a system where more than 158 million votes were cast in 2020, a number likely to be greater this year, some errors are inevitable, and yet the number of provable cases is astonishingly few. But the purpose of these fraud claims is not to address a real problem; it is to provide a pretext for overturning accurate results. This narrative is not just about casting doubt on election outcomes, it is about laying the groundwork for rejecting the possibility of losing an election altogether. Trump’s playbook isn’t to prove fraud under any existing law—it is to create a cloud of suspicion, enough to justify extraordinary measures. The point is not to win by the rules, but to convince supporters that the election was stolen, regardless of the evidence, and that a possible Democratic victory can’t be legitimate.

Andy Craig writes in The UnPopulist that Donald Trump is likely to see another coup attempt if he loses to Kamala Harris.

[mariacallous]

Sunday was election day in my state of Brandenburg. The morning was sunny, unseasonably warm, yet already in autumnal gold. Normally I just cross the road to vote, but due to a lack of poll clerk volunteers, I had to drive 8km to one of the next villages. Following Google Maps, I ended up on a road so rocky that only tractors might brave it. The thin layer of recent asphalt had cracked over the GDR gravel. At the bottom of the potholes lay the Prussian cobble stones.

I was greeted by three poll clerks: a middle-aged woman, a grey-haired bulky man and an adolescent with a decidedly military haircut. Grabbing my voting slip, I couldn’t help being moved for a moment by the beauty of democracy. Here I was, about to make a cross they would probably deem degenerate or totalitarian, knowing full well that I deemed theirs fascist. Statistically, two of them would vote for the far-right AfD. Our parish has again come out with more than 50% for the far right, as it did back in May for the European elections. And yet, neither I or anyone else in the polling station ended up with a black eye. The clerks didn’t even hiss “we know where you live”.

It was a relief to see the results that evening. After months with the AfD ahead in the polls, the social democrats won by a tight margin of 1.7% (30.9% for the SPD, with the AfD at 29.2%). This was certainly not the achievement of Olaf Scholz, the social democrat German chancellor. Brandenburg has been red for about 35 years, and its governor, Dietmar Woidke, is very popular. His primary campaign strategy was to dissociate himself from the government in Berlin. Scholz did not take part in any of the campaigning. And the election posters presented the party affiliation as a bullet to be bitten: “If you want Woidke, vote SPD.” A vote for Woidke was also endorsed by some who might otherwise have voted for the Greens or the Left party. Alice Weidel, the AfD’s co-chair, complained that it only lost due to tactical voting. But lose it did.

Nevertheless, Hans-Christoph Berndt, the AfD’s main candidate in Brandenburg, who recently argued for a segregation-style law banning immigrants from attending public events, defiantly claimed that the future was “blue” (the AfD’s signature colour). The future is open, but it is undoubtedly true that authoritarian populism is on the rise. The AfD is up about 6% from the election in Brandenburg five years ago, and was the strongest party among younger voters.

To understand the shift to the right in Brandenburg, or the former GDR, it is vital to look at global and local trends. First, this isn’t a result of east Germans’ unfamiliarity with democracy, as some commentators suggest. After all, we are witnessing a shift to the right among many voters in the oldest democracies, too, including France and the US. Much more decisive is what the Vienna-based historian Philipp Ther has called “the other end of history”: unhampered neoliberal restructuring after the iron curtain fell. This restructuring affected rural and de-industrialised areas in the west as well, but is most pervasive in the postsocialist regions. Echoing the economist Karl Polanyi, Ther stresses that marketisation corrodes the social fabric. Politics then mainly consists of attempts at repair, attempts that mostly miss the root causes of the degradation.

After reunification, only 6% of formerly state-owned assets ended up in the hands of east Germans. Even if there is some economic growth, as there is in Brandenburg, it comes from multinational investors – Tesla for instance – which creates volatile, non-unionised jobs.

Besides the economic stratification, there is a wounded memory of dispossession connected with the post-socialist transformation. Up to 80% of east Germans lost their jobs, with many of them seeing their training rendered useless overnight. The bitterness that arose from the pandemic era’s quarantine measures – a great source of contention in Brandenburg – was partly to do with people once again being compelled to suspend ordinary life. It is as if the weight of another break in routine was simply intolerable and experienced as sheer sadism, but resolved by declaring any government action an incursion into one’s personal freedom.

The core remedy that the AfD promises is control in another realm: an entitlement to treat racialised others like disposable objects. They promote white supremacy and ethnic homogeneity. At least some of the AfD sympathisers I have been in conversation with argue, in stark contrast to the party’s economic neoliberalism, that they would like to see the state crack down on the super-rich and address social inequality. But they consider this so unlikely, so out of reach, that another demonstration of sovereignty takes precedence: Germany for the Germans.

After I had returned from the voting booth, the older guy among the poll clerks reminded me that we knew each other. We had reroofed a house together about 10 years ago for a friend of his, using shiny new tiles. We in turn were grateful to salvage the old clay ones. In fact, I often refer to this experience when asked by those in metropolitan areas how to talk to your political adversaries. “You can only do so if you have another context that you work together in,” I say. Societies should offer those spaces. If their fabric tears, it’s hard to find enough common ground to say, for instance, that no, open borders are not the problem, or to tell them you simply don’t find that joke funny. That time on the roof, such conversation was at least possible.It hasn’t become easier in the meantime.

At the polling station, the clerks lightly mock me: “Why did you take that idiotic route? There is a much more direct way back to your place.” They know where I live and choose to help me and compensate for my dodgy navigation. We still don’t know how to create a cooperative basis for society. But when I experience small interactions like these, I realise such an ambition is the only viable path away from a bleak, fascist future.

[fruitymarcy]

Fitting in as a Fat Person

Fitting in: it's hard for everyone socially, but for fat people it's hard both socially and at times physically as well. The world is built without fat people in mind, or in some instances it is specifically designed to work against fat people. Fat people deserve to fit in, so let's talk about it.

Recently I moved into a new apartment, and one of the two bathrooms has a walk-in shower. I can't even walk into that shower, the sliding door doesn't leave enough room. Thankfully there's that other bathroom which has a bathtub instead, but the thought of a fat person moving into an apartment and then realizing they're unable to do something as simple as shower due to an inherently anti-fat design of the apartment is startling.

Some may hear this and think well, that's a sign you need to lose weight. You're just too fat. I can even give those people this, in my last apartment I had to walk sideways to get through one of the doorways, I acknowledge that I am a very large person. However, I completely reject the idea that I should change myself to accommodate a doorway or a shower door's poor design.

There's a few very commonly held outlooks on fatness:

Being fat is an inherently bad thing

It's always the fat person's fault for being fat

All fat people should lose weight to better themselves

The world shouldn't change to accommodate fat people

These views go hand in hand, they reinforce one another. If you believe that being fat is a bad thing, and if you believe that every fat person became this bad thing by fault of their own, then when you hear someone say that all fat people should lose weight, that's only natural. Of course you believe that, because if being fat is bad and people become fat by being lesser, then changing that is a good thing and those people would be better if they were thin. If you believe all three of those things, then of course you believe the fourth idea, that the world shouldn't change to accommodate fat people. Being fat is bad, right? It's these people's own fault, right? They'd all be better off thin, right? Then of course the world shouldn't accommodate them. They should just change themselves. Except those ideas are flawed.

Here's the truth:

Being fat is normal

People can become fat for a variety of reasons

Fat people should decide for themselves whether they want to lose, gain, or maintain their weight

The world should change to accommodate fat people

Being fat is normal. It is not inherently unhealthy. A fat person can be healthy, and even if they're not, they deserve just as much respect as anyone else. I am not the healthiest myself. I have difficulty with even light physical activity. I still believe that I deserve just as much respect as a healthy fat person, or as a healthy thin person for that matter. Health does not indicate a person's worth. I am worth just as much as anyone else, and the same is true for other fat people. Second, being fat does not mean you're ugly. Fat people can be beautiful. Third, being fat is not a moral failing. If you're fat, that's okay, and it shouldn't matter how you ended up fat either. Maybe you exercise regularly, but your genetics make it hard for you to lose weight. Maybe you never exercise and you eat unhealthy food often. Either way, you still deserve to keep your dignity and be treated with respect.

If you are fat, you should be the only person who decides whether to change your body, just like any thin person should be for theirs. In any context, your body is not anyone else's to change.

The world changes all the time, that's progress. In this world where gay marriage became legal in the United States after decades of hateful laws and bigotry, where the fight for trans rights is ongoing, with poll after poll showing that the majority of people still support trans rights despite intense right-wing propaganda attempting to change that - in such a world where marginalized groups are fighting to get closer to equality and have won those fights time and time again, why are fat people different?

Fatphobia is so heavily ingrained in our society that most fat people seem to hate themselves. Even the ones who don't have an incredibly hard time pushing for change, given the vast majority of people are not only against them, but sickened by them.

Fat people deserve to fit in, and for us to ever even have a chance of fitting in we need to spread love and acceptance, and unlearn the fatphobia so deeply ingrained in all of us. I am fat and proud, but even I doubt myself at times. It is so hard to escape the grip of fatphobia and truly accept yourself and others as they are, however it is so important that we work on it all the same. When we accept one another and come together we can fight for change, like how New York City successfully passed a bill banning weight discrimination this year when fat activists pushed politicians to act. Love and accept fat people, and fight for them. Fat people deserve to fit in, and don't ever forget it.

[idontlikeem]

In hockey when does the lack of a Finals appearance draw out for teams that make multiple conference finals appearances? Like the Ducks at their peak in 2014-17, the 2010s Sharks, the Canes now.

Have the 2023 Panthers and 2021 Habs among others showed the limitations of becoming the “team of destiny” in the playoffs? If anything during the Cup runs they got enough fortune to make the SCF but still came up short when they ran to a buzzsaw team.

Re: Jake, how possible is him returning to the Pens and if it happens how much is he worth?

1) Sorry I don’t understand what you’re asking!

2) This is kind of a false comparison IMO because the Panthers had won the presidents trophy in 2021-2022, they were still a very good team in 22-23 they just struggled a LOT at the start of the season, and then this year they continued to be very very good. They’re simply a good team. You don’t get to the Stanley Cup Finals on luck and good fortune. The Habs in 2021 got close to doing that, I guess, but the “fortune” was the extremely goofy division realignment that gave them weak competition at the start—the rest was all them. They had a generational goaltender and that will take you very, very far, and Shea Weber who is also an elite talent destroyed his body to get them there. Idk I think there’s a lot less “destiny” and “luck” in hockey than I guess some do, there are far more upsets in the NHL than in the other major league sports but that’s because generally the margins between the “better” and “worse” teams are very thin because the hard cap forces a level of parity. When there’s a true imbalance, it looks like the Rangers vs the Capitals in round one of this year. Mostly, the teams who are true competitors are just really good.

3) It’s always possible until it’s not. At the start of this season I would have said 8 years at $8MM AAV should do it. I do think he underperformed a bit this playoffs but he’s going to be a very coveted free agent if it gets that far, so the price may have gone up. Never say never though!

[deadpresidents]

Did Gore ever say why he didn't run again? Or was it just "I did that and it didn't work out, so I've moved on"?

I don't recall Al Gore ever giving a specific reason for why he never ran for President again after 2000. It's probably a combination of reasons, but I do think he was just ready to move on and focus his energy and platform on the issues he cared about most passionately, like combating climate change.

I'm sure that Gore was also frustrated and disheartened by coming SO close to being elected President and still losing. He won the popular vote in 2000 and it was the Supreme Court's decision (along strict party lines) to halt the recount in Florida and hand the victory to George W. Bush. I mean, imagine that feeling -- that you put everything you had into running for President, won more overall votes than than your opponent, and very possibly would have won a recount that handed you the Presidency, but lost due to an unprecedented decision via the narrowest possible margin by a separate branch of the government that was voting along party lines. There were votes still needing to be counted or recounted, and the Supreme Court just suddenly called the election while his opponent had a razor-thin margin that was shrinking by the hour. Why would you ever put yourself through that again?

Gore also saw an opportunity to make a shitload of money and, as a public servant who had spent the last quarter-century in elective office making money was an appealing idea. And he made a TON of money.

I'd also suggest that the timing never worked out for him once he skipped running in 2004. I've said before that I am confident that Gore would have defeated President Bush's bid for re-election if he had faced him in 2004, and the longer he was out of office, the more likely it would be that the Democratic Party would build a deeper bench of active, exciting potential Presidential candidates. That's exactly what happened and 2004 was probably the last, best chance for Gore to have jumped in the race and been heavily favored to capture the Democratic nomination. The 2008 campaign saw Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton become to top Democratic contenders, and 2012 was a re-election cycle for the incumbent President Obama. Maybe Gore could have made some noise if he decided to run in 2016 or 2020, but by then he had been out of any sort of public office for 15 (and then 20) years, so his time had passed. I've probably written this thousands of times, but ideal timing is a huge aspect of successful Presidential campaigns.

[poke-admin-showdown]

ROUND 2 ANALYSIS: A PATTERN EMERGES

round two voting has concluded! and as is usual, i have some things to say about it

first of all, this round marks the entrance of our four highest seeded contenders - plumeria, the shadow triad, eri and matt. the title of this roundup post was originally going to be "MATT'S HERE NOW" but his match was actually significantly tamer than others, and there's something else i want to talk about more

almost half of our contestants going into the quarterfinals share three attributes: a red theme, bobbed hair, and capacity for (possibly feral) violence. mars, courtney and mela have significant support within the demographic of people voting in this bracket. now, i doubt the hair is really doing anything, i think that's mostly a coincidence, but it is interesting and pretty funny to me how that's worked out.

starting with mars: she's feral and we all love her for it. there have been enough tags about mars being feral that i'm going to have enough to make an entire tag compilation post at the end of this bracket. she's the star of the most one-sided poll this round, winning against petrel by 88% of votes. this is also our most-voted poll with 161 votes at time of writing. tumblr LOVE mars.

secondly, courtney: a significantly closer match this time against her team magma colleague tabitha, but still a clear win. i thought this match would have been a lot closer, and i saw some great arguments for both opponents in the tags, but in the end courtney won by 65%. that's pretty significant! i was honestly half expecting tabitha to win. i would like to officially state that i hope our banner isn't influencing results even though it is correct.

and finally, mela. i was not expecting her to get this far, i'll be completely honest. she has rage in her heart, yes, but she's also wearing those big ol boots. i spend a lot of time thinking about garment construction and how it would limit movement in a fistfight and in mela's case, i believe her boots would hinder her. She was seeded below Atticus for this exact reason. but she's taken down a galactic commander (rip saturn you tried) and her ninja-themed bestie, and i'm very curious to see how she'll do against her next opponent. will the angry bebooted teenager make it through the quarterfinals or will her reign end here? who know! not me!

other things of note: jupiter made it through round two, but with significantly less of a winning margin at 56/44% at time of writing (which is also our closest match), with a reverse sweep, since Oleana had an initial lead. i'd chalk this up to her opponent - while i haven't played swsh, i have heard a few things about oleana, and she does seem like the kind of person to fight dirty. unfortunately for her the tumblr consensus seems to be that jupiter would fight dirtier. the #jupitersweep dream lives on For Now.

a fight i wasn't expecting to be as close as it was is (one of) the shadow triad vs rocket executive archer. i don't know if archer has secret combat tricks i don't know about and that's why he got 34% of votes but that was genuinely a surprise to me considering he was up against an actual ninja who can appear out of thin air and stuff. pretty impressive on his part honestly.

finally, and related to my last point, we've lost two more villainous teams this round. team rocket has lost all four of its representatives in one round and is now entirely out of the running. we also lost macro cosmos's only representative, oleana, who did her best and i'm very proud of her.

the teams left in the running are teams aqua, magma, galactic, plasma, skull and star. most of those only have one representative left but galactic and star have two. i don't have too much to say about this, but i do think it's interesting and worth noting.

and now, funny tags time!

(courtesy of @/edgeanescence on the matt vs ariana poll)

(courtesy of @/spaghettiwolf on plumeria vs proton)

(courtesy of @/pixelchaos00, also on plumeria vs proton)

(mars vs petrel compilation, courtesy of @/clefaiiiry, @/salon-maiden-anabel and @/quarterdollar)

[lightdancer1]

The Austro-Prussian War is a good reminder that history really does hinge at times on kings and battles:

One relatively impolitic and unfashionable truth is that the reason old history was so much a history of kings and battles is that kings and battles did so much to *shape* that history and who wrote it and the audiences for which it was written. There were societies that rose and fell on the course of a single battlefield. The wars of Otto von Bismarck-era Prussia and the unification of Germany (and the realities of today's Ukraine War, along with, really, the US 'War on Terrorism') show that this hasn't changed.

The Austro-Prussian War is a very good example of that. Austria goes into it with every possible advantage. Interior lines, superior numbers, a man who at the start vastly outweighed Helmuth von Moltke in reputation. Like Mexico in 1846 every paper strength military factor would have given Austria every possible chance to win this war and to do so decisively.

Instead in six weeks blind aggression and audacity won Prussia the war in spite of its army at times displaying the same reckless bloodlust that recurred in 1870-1 and both world wars. The reality is that against Franz Josef, the jobber of European wars, this was plenty to work. Against a divided and weak Second Empire and early Third Republic, amplified by the civil war of the Paris Commune, it was enough to work. Committed to a general European two-front war it wasn't anywhere near enough to work and the German officer corps could not bring itself to admit that military power alone wasn't enough, and so it plunged Germany into two avoidable bloodbaths that left Germany at the end of it the fourth power in Berlin.

That was hindsight. At the time the swift motions from the onset of the war, from Moltke's grasping the right potential of breechloading rifles and railroads where other powers were slower to do so, to the decisive battle of Koeniggratz (which like other decisive battles hinged on a razor-thin margin that some slight differences on the Austrian side would have turned into a victory as grand for Austria as the real life battle was for Prussia and rendered the entire set of defeats before it moot) stunned Europe.

Austria's weaknesses, in turn, were not exactly the multi-ethnic nature of its army. This particular factor of Austria is often invoked to explain the terminal collapse of the Habsburg system. It's too simple because the truth is that the Austrian Empire itself was a desperate bid to keep the imperial title and its diplomatic perks in the Habsburg family after the defeat of the 1806 war against Napoleon and the dismantling of the HREGN.

Austria never developed from that the basis of being a cohesive state and there were multiple ideological and bureaucratic factors that prevented any such thing. On paper it was the second-largest state after Russia in terms of population and land mass in Europe. In an age that identified power with the ability to run an effective military machine this created some pretty obvious Catch-22s for Italy and Austria, ones that ultimately cost both states much in the vain pursuit of what they could not do.

9/10.

[crazy-pages]

You're right, those are bigger factors. But when you're trying to rig elections, you don't leave ways to manipulate the system on the table. Especially when elections are won by small margins, and gerrymandering means the ability to adjust district population numbers can be such a huge advantage.

So let's say you some predominantly black districts which vote Democrat by a narrow margin and a super majority of those votes come from black people, and you also have some predominantly white districts which vote Republican by a huge margin. (A not uncommon state of affairs in the US South). Well first, you can swing a couple Democrat districts by disproportionately imprisoning black people in those districts for felonies. But then you can also bus them to a prison in a couple white districts, in large enough numbers to justify splitting them into more districts, by a population count that includes the non voting prisoners. Maybe you can even justify consolidating some black districts because of their reduced population.

It's a subtle thing, done by thin margins, but that's all that's really needed for it to have an impact.

It's not the *entire* reason US politics look the way they do, it's simply one part of a very large toolkit for disenfranchisement. But include laws which limit time off work for voting to 1-2 hours, don't enforce that time off anyway, reduce polling place numbers in black neighborhoods until they've got 3 hour waits, then make driver's licenses required to vote when black people are more likely to live in inner cities and not own cars, etc, etc. Do it with a dozen small cuts and you can take a pretty big slice of the political cake like this.

In case you didn’t know:

The Electoral College originally heavily favored Slave States, because the large slave populations contributed to electoral points, but obviously slaves could not vote, so voting whites in those states had more political power per vote.

And NOWADAYS, the Electoral College heavily favors states with high prison populations for exactly the same reasons. 

[diinferi]

BACKGROUND

[ORPHAN] People don't often live to a ripe old age when they're sent on life threatening missions every week. The fact that you grew up without parents is a testament to that fact. You've been set up with an apartment and some local clothing. You are considered a member of the village you start in.

LOCATION

[KONOHAGAKURE] The Hidden Village of Leaves, based in the Land of Fire, and led by the Hokage. While the hidden villages of the Five Great Ninja Countries are considered to be largely equal on paper, Konohagakure is still considered the most influential due to winning the previous Great Ninja War, but the fact that the nine tailed demon fox rampaged inside the city has many people casting aspersions on exactly who is the strongest. The use of Fire jutsu is prevalent amongst the ninjas of Konohagakure. They pride themselves on the will of Fire, a philosophy emphasizing teamwork and self sacrifice. They are based in a great forest.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

[BASIC NINJA TRAINING] You know how to use kunai and shuriken, a basic taijutsu style, how to walk on any solid surface regardless of petty things like gravity, how to walk on water, create a non-physical illusion of yourself, and change places with a previously prepared log or another generic item to dodge attacks. You can also reinforce yourself with chakra, making you significantly faster, stronger and more difficult to hurt, and if you apply yourself, you will be able to keep up with Captain America. You also gain the ability to jump ludicrously far, on the order of dozens of meters. It's all topped off with some serious stealth skills too. As in keep yourself from being spotted while wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and defacing Mount Rushmore levels of stealth.

[CHAKRA ENHANCEMENT SPECIALIZATION] Every Ninja enhances their body with chakra, but you have focused on a particular area to great effect. Other ninja compete with Captain America, but in at least one sphere of physical ability you blow him out of the water. The only problem is that it's a temporary and can be exhausting to use.  

[SPEED] Are they holding still? Oh wait, it's not them holding still, it's you not being slow. You can expect to move faster than most ground based vehicles if you put your nose to the grindstone. Your reflexes are boosted to keep up with your increased speed.

[YOU HAVE RESERVES] All ninja can increase their reserves with training, but you've won the chakra lottery. Even now at the start of you journey some ninja with years or even decades of experience on you still have less chakra than you do naturally. This effectively enhances your stamina as well as letting you use more powerful ninjutsu than others. Other options increase your chakra reserves, but You Have Reserves increases them by a much larger margin. Unless otherwise stated, any other choice that increases you chakra will give you one half the effects of You Have Reserves.

[ELEMENTAL CHAKRA AFFINITY] Most ninjutsu rely upon manipulating the elements, and you’ve discovered what element you’re naturally inclined towards and have some basic training in using it. Further training will increase the power and efficiency of the techniques using your element. You can use techniques for affinities you aren't naturally inclined towards, but they'll be significantly weaker, less efficient, and the most powerful techniques will be beyond your grasp entirely. 

[WATER] Allows the user to manipulate pre-existing water or create their own by turning their chakra into water inside their body. It is also possible to create water outside the user’s body but this is very difficult. Can be used to change the density of water as well. Water techniques rely on pressure to deal damage. Strong against fire because it naturally extinguishes them, weak against earth as earth structures can dissipate the force of water and rendering the technique ineffective.

[WIND] Used by making the chakra as thin and sharp as possible though some techniques instead rely on brute force to simply blow things away. Mostly consists of short to mid-ranged offensive techniques which rely upon precision for maximum cutting and slashing damage, and short to mid range attacks meant to give you more space. Strong against lightning because it is dispersed by wind but weak against fire as it feeds the flames.

[NIN/TAI/GEN/BUKIJUTSU SPECIALIZATION] You are particularly skilled and talented in an area of the ninja arts. You will start out knowing one basic technique for the category, and one dangerous, forbidden, and powerful technique from the category you select. The techniques you learn from this may be of up to A rank. In addition, you will learn things that fall under your category far more quickly, and all techniques from your category will be faster, stronger and more efficient. Can be taken once per category.

[BUKIJUTSU] Weapon techniques that cover the use of handheld weapons, whether the user be shinobi or samurai. Academy students are all taught the use of basic ninja weapons and tools like shuriken and kunai, learning how to wield them through target practice. With this you can become a true master of weaponry. Can be used in combination with all other weapons, chakra flow, fuin-, nin-, tai- and genjutsu to increase its effectiveness. A bukijutsu adept might well be able bounce shuriken off of each other in mid flight to hit different enemies who are completely out of sight or decapitate someone with a spoon.

[TAIJUTSU] Hand to hand combat. With enough training, a taijutsu user might be able drive their boot through a foot of steel, and punch the air so fast and hard the air friction creates fire balls.

[FUINJUTSU PRODIGY] You are one of the very few who are talented in the art of Fuinjutsu, an esoteric discipline combining all the complexities of calligraphy and physics. Despite the difficulty in learning fuinjutsu, skilled practitioners find it well worth it. Fuinjutsu, or sealing, is at its most basic storing something within something else through symbols to be released at another time. More advanced techniques still follow this same principle, but to great effect. Seal masters can seal away the elements, chakra, form summoning contracts, teleport, or even summon and bind souls using these principles. It's only downside is that this art is massively difficult to learn even for the talented, and will take years of intense study to master. You start off knowing how to make the two most basic of seals: The storage seal which allows you to store items in slips of paper much smaller than they are, and the explosive seal which is basically a few glyphs on a piece of paper the size of a greeting card that explodes like a small amount of plastique.

[UZUMAKI] You are a member of the scattered and decimated Uzumaki clan, you are naturally inclined to fuinjutsu and sensory techniques and have an incredibly strong life force, giving you great endurance, longevity, and increased chakra reserves. With training, you might be able to create chakra chains from your body which you can manipulate at will. You may now change your hair color to red at no cost, reflecting your lineage. As this clan is nearly extinct, if you select this to be the clan you've been born into only your immediate family is alive and well.

[KAGUYA] Kirigakure based. You possess an abnormal skeletal structure making medical treatment somewhat difficult, and can manipulate it at will. Infusing your calcium with chakra, you can manipulate the growth and properties to your liking. This can render you effectively immune to all damage from kinetic energy by growing an armor of bone immediately beneath your skin. This also comes with some minor regenerating abilities. Selecting this allows you to turn your hair white. Bone white, at no cost. This clan is renowned for its blood thirst, and was one of the first clans put to the sword in Kirigakure. Take the Hunted (Kirigakure) Drawback. As this clan is nearly extinct, if you select this to be the clan you've been born into only your immediate family is alive and well.

[SENSOR NINJA TRAINING] You’re capable of detecting the presence of other people through chakra. With enough training, you'll be able to use your sensory ability to tell who specific people are from miles away.

EQUIPMENT

[BASIC GEAR] Basic ninja gear, enough shuriken, smoke bombs, kunai, caltrops, explosive notes, ninja wire and other assorted gear to last you a while. Also includes three small reusable storage scrolls.

[FUINJUTSU KIT] Basic equipment to start fiddling with sealing techniques. Has enough provisions to create 50 explosive notes. Their overall quality depends on your skills to make them, though.

[SPECIALIZED GEAR] Contains a set of more specialized weapons or equipment, like a few oversized shuriken, a katana, a set of unrealistically heavy training weights or the like. You can't buy this to get anything with a name, or anything that costs CP on this jump.

DRAWBACKS

[STUFFED] All the filler is now part of your jump's timeline.

[BORUTO!] You start at the beginning Naruto Gaiden: The Seventh Hokage and the Scarlet Spring instead. Alternatively, you may simply increase the duration of your stay until ten years after the events of Boruto are resolved. You are guaranteed not to die of old age if you select this option.

[THERE'S HOW MANY MOVIES?] Eleven. There are eleven Naruto movies. The events of any of those movies you choose will occur as part of your jump's timeline.

[HUNTED: KIRI] Congratulations, a village hates you enough to place a bounty on your head! Decide which of the starting villages are actively hunting down with their spy networks and operatives.

[MC-KUN/MC-CHAN] Congratulations, you are now now a main character! Your starting location is set to Konoha and you now take Sakura's spot on Team Seven. Your teammates are Naruto, Sasuke, potentially Sai, and your Sensei is Kakashi. You will have to go through all the plot right next to Naruto or Sasuke, your choice, though of course you can change the canon outcomes. Either way, their success or failure depends on you and you will be forever trapped in this world should they fail. If either die, success become impossible. As a bonus their plot armor is degraded to the choice you can purchase here. You will only need to help the one you side with while they are separate; the other will have the full force of his canon plot armor to rely upon while they are apart. Yes, you are considered just as important to the plot as either of them; you will need to pitch in during the major battles they face if you wish to claim victory as the enemies you face have grown much stronger. If you manage to make it through to the very end they can become your companions if you wish. You may not select different companions than Naruto, Sasuke, Sai, and Kakashi, but may still import additional companions from previous jumps. This can be taken with Fan-verse, but only if Naruto and Sasuke are still the main characters and still get into an equivalent amount of trouble. Good luck; you'll need it.

FUTURE

[SAMSARA] While this place was... interesting, you decide to embark on your next great adventure to yet another world. Naruto might try to follow you because NAKAMA. And stalking your nakama is OK, no matter what Sasuke says. The crazy idiot might even find a way to do it too, and will promptly try to kick your head in with the power of friendship.

[mey51]

took me bit but i'm done \o/ (under is my opinion on each character)

Iruma : The Boii, The legend... I don't know a lot of Shonen main character as sweet and sensible as he. I really appreciate him, we might have lost a bit of edge and sarcasm from the very first Iruma, but he is cute and badass, I'll gladly take it! Our boy is turning into a very greedy and powerful demon, I only wish to see him evolve more.

Azz : Now we're talking about a favorite of mine. He was my fav for a long time, but opera won in the end. I still love him!!! We're almost nothing alike, but he reminds me of myself somehow. I love how he loves Iruma and Clara, I also like how such a hard badass like him is so sensible, loving and caring. I really love his vibes.

Clara : My sweetheart, you're doing such a great job!!! Truely, seeing characters get to know love and love in return is hitting a sweet spot. She's very much needed in the love trio, she brings the whimsical and fun around her. She has ambitions and i can't wait to see her reach her goals.

Sabnock : I loove seeing him on screen, he is so motivated, strong... I love seeing him smile, he has a calming presence. He's also the base of a good amount of jokes, he's pretty solid.

Kerori : I like her, but she's best when she's an idol or an idol enthusiast. She's pretty blank when she's purely a student. Her motivation and adulation with her line of work is what I enjoy about her.

Shax : ... I like him a lot, but he sometimes is so painfully a horny teen...it's hard to watch... He has a good heart tho, and he offer a good balance in the cast.

Jazz : Nishi sensei really knows how to makes you care about characters. Jazz is very cool and at first detached, but she manage too stir him back to beign one if the most sensitive and touching face in the class. He looks cool, he's a sweetie, I just love seeeing him getting to be a dependable older brother for the misfits in place of his piece of shit of a bro... I really like him.

Agares : I really like what happend with him, just like with Allocer, Nishi sensei took one of the shadow in the class and made something out of it. I'm not going to say that he is profound, but he's a compeling character. His pairing with Gaap is really well done, they really work well with each other.

Gaap : He's a really cutie this one, I really appreciate how open with others he has been from almost the start. Also, his abilities are realy neat and cool.

Elisabeta : hmm... it's a bit harder for her. I like her very much, but she's used a lot for fanservice, and the fact that she's pretty young rubs me the wrong way. I can "excuse" some of it to the "she's a seduction demon', but that's flimsy at best. Other than that, she's pretty and nice, for when she's given the chance to do things she's pretty good in the story. I would enjoy seeing more of her doing important stuff.

Allocer : He really came to life with the Harvest Festival, he had a good job beign the "brainicac" of the Misfits before, but he really was just a puppet made to fill out space... I really enjoy what he became, still the brain, but getting to show how he uses it! I really love how close to Jazz he became, I wish we would see more of that in the futur.

Caim : You can stay... BUT YOU'RE ON THIN FUCKING ICE!! (really, he became marginally better with time, not by much, but I'm willing to take anything to make him more pleasent to watch. He was pretty good in the harvest festival doing his job and lusting on the down low)

Purson : OH my GODS Purson Soi... The pinnacle of taking a shadow and making an AWESOME character with it! He became one of the fan favorite overnight, and for good fucking reasons!!! he is so precious, so good. His character is so compeling, ever since he's been visible he's making every moment he's here better. just seeing smile with the others, or vanishing into smoke when something bad is happening... I love him:

Balam : What can I say? I love him! HE's so precious, so pretty, so relatable, so cool, intelligent, gentle, strong!!! He's the whole package... And he's such a good character, we see him grow as a person alongside Iruma, getting to earn the admiration of his students. We also learn a lot through him, he is very well used by the story.

Amélie : I think she's a really cool character. I enjoy her strengh, spirit and devotion. Yet at the same time, her character works so well because Nishi sensei is making a melting pot of her manga, and Amélie is also the soft hearted, shojo enthusiast that brings the very sterotipical romance aspect in m!ik. It works well with her, she is strong yet delicate and she can use both of this sides together in some of her best moments... I fucking love the scene when she sings Kuromu's song about how young girls in love are invincible as a way to give herself enough strengh to kick the ass of a big ass beast... It's so fucking good...

Kalego : Alright Kalego... Same as with Balam, he's strong, cool, well used in the story. He is one of the most used face in the story, and he knows how to fill that role. I don't have any bad thing to say about him, he's sexy, funny, impressive and interesting. I'm not sure what more I can say...

Robin : Sweet Robin. I think I like him more now than we saw the Barbathos clan. He was cute as a rookie teacher, but I've enjoyed a lot seeing him resolved to protect his students, he was cool in the heartbreaker arc, but recently when he brought Iruma in front of the head of the Barbathos and when he realised he probablly made a mistake and sprung in front of Iruma to protect him, that was so nice to see. Also, just because i like seeing him more serious doesn't mean I don't want more random, cute and weird Robin moments... I can't wait to see his adorable face and voice in the new season.

Bachiko : She's solid, a good character that's confident, yet can get emotionnal. She's a good branch to help Iruma's growth, but she's also growing thanks to him. I want to see more of her, and also learn about her past.

Ali-san : Mysterious, funny and irreplaceable. He's solid, still waiting to see what his deal is.

Sullivan : Same as Ali-san... What the hell is your deal Sully? What happened with Delkira? What are your motives? Keep beign a good grandpa.

Opera : I love Opera more than I can tell. They are my favorite character in the end, now that they have more screen time and more things to do in the story, I can't deny that I'm totally entranced by them. Love the humor, love the coldheadness, love the looks... Truely one of the best.

Kirio : Okay so I don't love him like some of you on here does, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like him. Without Kirio, Mairiruma would have never been what it is to me today. The revelation of his true intention, moreover, the twist using the "disabled person frustrated with his own inability" is what made the show for me. I don't love him, but i'm lowkey obssessed with this moment. He is one the pillar that makes M!ik worth watching imo.

Ronove : ... You're fucking lucky Nishi sensei knows how to make characters compeling... I hated his first apperance a lot, but with the climax at Walter park, and the way he genuienly was helpful in the begining of the music festival, I've learned to appreciate him more. Also, I like how gay this boy his without even accepting that about himself.

Baal : As a person I despise him. As a character, he is interesting. I don't quite get where he's getting at, but he's moving the plot forward. I'm waiting to see more of him, even if I get uneasy everytime. (I really don't like how he interact with the Sabnock familly...)

Delkira : I don't know a lot about him, he's fun when he's on "screen"... I'm pretty sure he's... "dead" in some way? like... he's never coming back as he was.

Hey guys, I made a character jar template for Mairimashita Iruma-kun, that u can use for free

I'd really like to see your responses

[warriyorcat]

I’ve seen a lot of info on the US election, but there’s one huge thing that I’ve noticed most media and commentators have not mentioned: what happened in the State of Michigan Senate and House races. 

For those unaware, Michigan’s state legislature has been under Republican control for years - since before my parents moved to MI in the ‘90′s - and that was what people expected to see this midterm. That’s not what happened. Control of the state gov’t is now in the hands of the Democrats. Even though there was no ‘red wave’, MI Dems were not expected to flip either chamber. According to 270towin, MI Republicans had a 53% probability to hold the Senate and a 64% probability to hold the house, whereas MI Dems had 35% and 32% probabilities, respectively; there were smaller chances for an even split. MI’s GOP should have held both chambers, and they didn’t. Why?

Every 10 years in US politics, states undergo a process known as redistricting, wherein political lines are changed based on population. In MI, up until 2018, this process was controlled by the party in power (The GOP). Because the party in power draws the lines, they tend to draw the lines in places that benefit them, even if those lines make no sense. This is known as gerrymandering, and it’s everywhere in the US. Michigan’s was bad, because the lines either concentrated Dem votes in one area or spread them too thin to compete with rural areas in the same district. Because of that, you would get wack vote tallies. Dems would win more votes, but the GOP would end up with 75% of the seats.

In 2018, Michigan voted to pass Proposal 2, which established an independent redistricting commission, which removes politicians from deciding where the district boundaries go. This commission is made up of 13 people (5 Dems, 5 Republicans, 3 independents) pulled from the common populace (my dad was invited to be on the commission but he declined). When 2020 came, instead of drawing incredibly gerrymandered boundaries, they drew the boundaries based largely on population. They also asked people to submit their own maps. The districts they drew pretty much balanced out Dem and GOP districts.

Thanks to the redistricting, it balanced the number of Dem and GOP districts and made several of them really competitive. Combining that with GOP candidates underperforming nationally (except Florida) and Dem candidates overperforming, a scenario was created in which the MI Dems flipped both chambers of the state legislature. Even though they hold a two-seat margin in each chamber, it’s still huge. Very few people thought that a flip would happen in MI; most people though other legislatures would flip, and likely in the favor of the GOP.

Anyway, thank freaking goodness. MI’s Governor, Secretary of State, and AG races were all won by the Dem incumbents, and now Whitmer (the Gov.) has a legislative branch that will work with her more on her key issues.

TL;DR: MI Dems flipped both state chambers because there’s no more gerrymandering in MI and not enough people are talking about it.

links: https://www.270towin.com/2022-election-results-live/state/michigan

here is a map of what districts looked like in 2020 prior to redistricting: https://www.govtrack.us/congress/members/map

Most states have some gerrymandering, but if you want to see extreme gerrymandering look at Maryland, Ohio, and the Chicagoland area of Illinois. 

[redadm1ral-moved]

So I was rotating Makarov in my brain a little bit the past few days, and specifically I was thinking about his queerness and his relationship with gender (for reference: my Makarov is a bisexual cis* man, and that asterisk cannot be emphasized enough).

(CW: Discussions of sexism and queerphobia, external and internalized)

Makarov's relationship with gender is complex. If things had gone differently—if he'd been raised by different people, made different choices with his life, ran with different groups—he'd probably call himself some flavor of nonbinary, or gender nonconforming, or honestly? Genderfuck. He's masculine, but in a feminine way. Manhood slightly to the left. None gender with left femme on masc bread. You get the picture. He wouldn't want to pursue a medical transition, since his body is already the way he feels comfortable (he likes the way more feminine clothing/accessories/makeup looks and feels on his body as it is, his body hair is sparse, thin, and very lightly distributed, and he has a versatile voice—basically he won the genetics lottery in terms of his own gender expression). And any social transition would probably be just the use of he/they pronouns and more obviously androgynous or feminine-leaning presentation.

But in canonverse (and COH and, to a lesser extent, Venator and Apoptosis), he would never admit that. Not to anyone, and especially not to himself. He doesn't even know how to put his feelings into words other than "I like to be pretty/beautiful sometimes" (with "pretty" and "beautiful" being strongly feminine words to him, at least when applied to people), because that's about as deep as he dares to go with his gender-related introspection.

Because Makarov didn't grow up with different people, in a different environment, and he isn't surrounded by people who would understand or at least accept him. He's Vladimir Makarov. His father's son, raised with the expectation that he will adhere naturally and enthusiastically to strict, conservative notions of what the ideal Russian man should be. He's meant to be защитник, a protector, a provider, possessive and aggressive and strong and ambitious. And he is some of those things, among other qualities, but his femininity, his bisexuality, his desire to be desired and be seen as beautiful the way a woman would be, his desire to be approached and pursued by another man (or even another woman, though he's even less likely to admit this over his desire for male attention) directly contradict the Soviet ideals of manhood that he grew up with—and that he idolizes, because it's all he's ever known and it's what he was taught is right for a man since he was a boy.

Some of it isn't his fault. He couldn't help the family and society he was born in. But some of it is also of his own making—he chose to enter the military, he chose to commit the atrocities in Chechnya that got him expelled from the Spetsnaz, he chose to run with Ultranationalists who, for all their Soviet nostalgia and strongly communist/leftist politics, are indistinguishable from right-wing fascists in terms of the strict, conservative ideology they bring to the table and the harm they inflict on other people, including and especially marginalized people in Russia, in the former USSR, and abroad. He refuses to let go of the USSR and everything that came with it, including the toxic ideals of gender and masculinity that were ingrained in him from a young age. And though he doesn't harbor personal hatred for any group based on race, gender, sexuality, or what have you, he is completely unafraid—and in fact, more than willing—to step on the marginalized people he has privilege over in order to elevate himself, and bring himself closer to the power he thinks will satisfy the gaping black hole in his soul—even if it's other queer people he personally relates to he's stomping on. Basically, he's a "fuck you, got mine" queer who cares only about his own advancement and has an active hand in enforcing the same ideology that severed him from himself.

So he keeps that part of himself, to himself. He indulges in secret. He picks colognes sweet enough to please his feminine desires but still masculine enough not to be mistaken for women's perfume. He few feminine items he owns (clothing, jewelry, accessories), are hidden away, and quickly destroyed if he fears discovery. Every now and again, if he's seeing a woman, he'll put on some of her lipstick or eyeliner in secret while she's away, just to look at himself for a few precious moments. The only other person who knows this about him is Yuri, and even before Yuri's betrayal, Makarov regrets exposing that part of himself to him.

And even though he pretends otherwise, Makarov resents this part of himself. He resents the bisexuality he's otherwise unapologetic of, he resents the complex, nuanced gender identity and expression and desire bubbling under his toxic, sexist façade of perfect Soviet masculinity, masculinity which he refuses to let go of because of his idolization, his fetishization, of what he was raised to believe was the perfect society. He resents himself for his "imperfection," because his queerness is a vulnerability. If others find out—if the wrong people find out—he will lose everything he worked for, everything he dreamed of, and achieving his goals will be that much harder...if not impossible, because if he's shut out of the Ultranationalists, and the world is his enemy, who's left to protect him—and serve him? Makarov is bound and imprisoned in the rigidity of societal expectation and his own selfish choices, fueled by greed and contempt for his fellow man.

[monicashipslokius]

Soulmates Actually Pt 5 (of 6)

(Read Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4)

Loki drags their hands up Mobius’s front, palms flat against his chest, pressing wrinkles into his white shirt. At Mobius’s shoulders, Loki slides their fingers under Mobius’s suit jacket and eases down Mobius’s arms. Mobius straightens his elbows, and the jacket falls unceremoniously to the floor, a dark mark on the beige carpeting. The green tie quickly follows.

Mobius watches Loki with a hooded, passion-filled gaze as their deft fingers open the buttons of his shirt, one after the next, before it too falls down to the floor.

When Loki’s hands finally touch bare skin, they are desperate for it. They follow the path made when Mobius was clothed, up his chest, over his shoulders.

“Loki,” Mobius says, voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a moan.

Loki wraps their arms around Mobius’s waist and pulls him closer. Loki is wearing their silk sleep-shirt, but the fabric is so thin they can still feel the heat of Mobius’s skin against their own.

Loki drops a kiss to Mobius’s bare shoulder, a line across his clavicle, and then up the side of his neck. Mobius tilts his head away, giving Loki more access.

Mobius’s fingers dance up the length of Loki’s arms. He clutches Loki’s shoulders a moment, bunching the nightshirt as Loki bites gently at the soft spot behind Mobius’s ear.

“I want to do this right,” Mobius says. “It’s right for me, but is it right for you?”

Loki hums, trailing a path of kisses to Mobius’s lips before claiming them. Loki pulls away too soon, and smiles when Mobius leans forward, following them. “You are doing perfectly.”

Another kiss. Two. “Not too fast?”

Loki pulls away again, only so far as to look Mobius in the eye so he will know the depth of their feeling as they say, “If I do not have you this moment, I will burst.”

Mobius laughs, and Loki’s heart swells with new, unknown feeling - pride, happiness, unconditional affection. Mobius has won startled laughs from Loki many times but never the other way around. Mobius’s eyes sparkle with delight, with interest and joy and some pride of his own.

Loki wonders if this is what love feels like.

“Not too fast then.” Mobius’s smile lingers.

“No.”

“Good,” Mobius says, and gives Loki a shove.

Loki, caught unawares, falls back onto the bed. “Mobius!” Immediate they are on their elbows, watching Mobius step closer, up to the bed, in the open space between Loki’s legs.

Heart racing at the potential, blissful implications, Loki attempts to keep cool and lifts one lone brow. “My soulmate is feeling bold, I see.”

As Mobius’s hands reach for the waistband of Loki’s sleep-pants, Loki gathers all of their willpower not to whimper out, please. Despite their efforts, it still erupts from their throat, a cut off, strangled sound of desperation that makes Mobius’s smile grow into a shark-like grin.

“Your soulmate,” he says, dropping to his knees, “intends to worship their mischievous god.”

Loki has been in many sexy situations across the centuries, but never in their very long life have they ever felt this much longing, this much lust -

No, more than lust. Desire coupled with affection, wrapped up in...

“Mobius.”

At the first whispered touch, Loki’s thoughts frizzle out, and they do not return for a long, long time.

*

The apartment’s dark, lit only from the dim starlight peeking through the sheer curtains and the flashing clock on the microwave that neither of them set properly.

Loki’s cheek is pressed to Mobius’s bare chest, their ear over Mobius’s heart, listening to the strong, steady rhythm. Mobius’s breath is slow and deep; he fell asleep hours ago. But Loki, even with their body pleasantly exhausted and their desire temporarily sated, lies awake.

They count Mobius’s heartbeats, but hold their breath for the space between them. Humans are fragile things with such short lifespans. Fifty seems so young, but for Mobius, that is already over half his life.

“I think I should retire,” Mobius said earlier, over dinner. “I’ve worked since I was sixteen. Saved and saved. I’ve got enough investments to see us through for a good long while.”

“You love your work,” Loki said, half-hoping they hid the hope in their voice successfully enough to appear supportive.

Mobius laughed, happy and fond, which perhaps was a reveal all its own. “If I dropped dead right now, they would replace me tomorrow.” He stabbed his fork through a green bean, but he might as well stabbed Loki through the heart. His gaze on the food, he didn’t appear to notice. “It’s not personal. It’s a good company. They’ve treated me well over the years. But... that’s just how jobs work. I don’t know. I have more to live for now than just that. And we can afford it.” He laughed again, softer and sadder. “I want to at least have a few years where I can keep up with you.”

“I won’t leave you behind,” Loki said, and they could hear their own desperation.

Mobius finally looked up at Loki, and even though he smiled, he could not hide the gentle heartache in his eyes. “I’m no spring chicken, Loki. Eventually -”

“Do not finish that thought, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“I’m just saying that -”

“I know what you are ‘just saying’ and I will not hear it. I will not leave you behind, and that is the end of the discussion.”

Mobius’s brows lifted high, and Loki expected further argument. But per usual, Mobius subverted all expectations and laughed again, as happy and fond as before.

“If anyone can figure out a way to cheat death, it’s you,” he said then.

He snores a little now. His arms clutch Loki closer, even in sleep. And Loki renews their vow, quiet in the dark.

“Nothing will take you from me.”

*

Mobius puts in his two week notice the next day.

The photo of his office building that he kept on the dresser gets replaced with one of he and Loki together - much of the wall space in their apartment does too. Their smiling faces greet them at every turn.

Perhaps it’s narcissistic, Loki wonders, to have that many pictures of them in their own home, but Loki is so unaccustomed to their own happiness, it is like looking at a stranger.

When they tell Mobius, Mobius smiles and kisses them. He doesn’t reply with words, but he does get that far away look in his eye, the one that appears when his joints are too stiff in the morning, or when he wakes up from having fallen asleep on the recliner without having meant to, or when he looks in the mirror at his gray hair and promises Loki, “I used to be blond.”

And though he never says, I want you to have something to remember me by, Loki can hear the words as loudly as if he shouted them.

Mobius taps his finger on the top of the dresser, near the framed photo of his parents. “You know, I only have this one picture of them. Forty years with them in my life, of phone calls and Christmas cards, too few visits. All of it down to one picture and a bunch of fuzzy memories.”

Loki stands beside him, glancing briefly at the photo before staring at Mobius, at the far away look, and the rare-sadness tilting down his mouth. Yet before they can think of something that would bring some measure of comfort, Mobius turns to Loki and says, “Let’s go on vacation.”

Surprise replaces worry, and Loki glances at the smiling photo of Mobius on his jetski. “A lovely idea,” Loki says, and offers a small grin. “I believe I was promised a trip to the ocean as recompense for surrendering dominion over this realm.”

Mobius wide smile returns, and Loki’s grows in victory.

“A man should keep his promises,” Mobius says, and they start making plans.

*

Two weeks pass, and Mobius's last day at work comes and goes.

“You’ll be sick of me in a week,” Mobius says the first day off, but after a week, and then two after that, Loki cannot get enough of their time together.

During the day, he and Loki talk and go for walks and watch the soap operas Loki pretends to only like ironically but secretly loves.

“Is that Georgina or Regina?” Mobius asks.

Loki, an expert after weeks of indulgence, can easily identify one twin from another. “That’s Georgina. Regina has the beauty mark above her lip.”

During the night (and sometimes during the day too), they lose themselves in each other. Without draining himself at work all day, Mobius has more energy to properly worship his mischievous god, and though Loki will never admit it aloud, they do some worshiping too, of their foolhardy mortal.

Their precious, fragile human.

The longer they are together, the more perfectly matched they seem. And Loki, who has never been in love before, begins to allow himself a moment of soft wonder.

Loki remembers their first touch, the spliced visions of their future, and the way Mobius said, I love you. Again and again, a thousand times in one moment. Loki begins to wish for that... to crave it.

Sometimes they wonder what Mobius saw during the vision. Did Loki say it to him?

They have no idea how to ask without giving themself away.

*

The night before their trip to California, Mobius and Loki pack clothes into a pair of suitcases. At first they had attempted to share a single suitcase, but quickly deemed that an unwise decision.

“I don’t understand why you need so many clothes,” Mobius said, as his ‘half’ of the suitcase shrank down a considerable margin. “Can’t you just magic your outfit whenever you want?”

“You always wear that same drab suit, despite all the others we procured for you, despite no longer being required to wear it for work,” Loki replied. “Surely that portion of the suitcase is enough for one suit.”

Mobius looked down at the brown suit he currently wore, and though his smile remained, a small line formed between his brow. Loki knew instantly they had pushed too far.

So they cleared their throat and said, “Or perhaps I am doing my best to ensure you spend most of the trip naked.”

Mobius laughed and his brow smoothed out. “Alright, alright. I’ll get another suitcase,” he said, without further prompting.

Now, Mobius carefully folds yet another white shirt as he lowers it down onto the perfectly aligned pile of five exact copies. “I’ve been thinking.”

“A dangerous prospect,” Loki says, tossing a few shirts into their own suitcase. “One that usually ends in anxiety for me.” They say it as a joke. They do not expect Mobius’s quiet in return.

Worried there might still be lingering hurt from the suit remark, Loki shifts all attention to Mobius, and finds him a tangle of tension and uncertainty.

“Mobius?”

“Maybe it’s not a good idea.” He unfolds and refolds the same shirt. Twice. “Forget I said anything.”

Loki reaches out, takes the shirt from Mobius hands, and lowers it. Then they take Mobius’s hands and turn him toward them. When Mobius’s gaze drifts off toward the kitchen, Loki laces their fingers together and squeezes his hands gently.

“Good or not, I should hear your idea,” Loki says. “I enjoy knowing all of your thoughts.”

Mobius shifts his glance briefly to the photo of his parents on the dresser. “Even if it’s something that might cause you anxiety?”

Loki traces their thumb over Mobius’s. “I believe not knowing would be substantially worse.”

Finally, Mobius looks at them. “Yeah, okay.” He presses his lips hard together as he studies Loki’s face.

The longer the silence lasts, the more worry coils around Loki’s chest until they  feels as if they might explode just from anticipation of -

“I think we should invite your family to our vacation.”

Loki blinks. Waits for the punchline.

For surely Mobius is jesting.

Instead, Mobius winces. “Now that’s a look.”

“You... aren’t jesting.” Loki tries to imagine Odin standing on a sandy Californian beach, but the image is so outrageous, their mind cannot conjure it.

“Look, I know it’s a bad idea. And we can go ahead and never talk about it after this, but...” He glances again at the photo of his parents, and the heartbroken look returns to his eyes. “Too few visits.”

Only one picture.

There are no pictures of Loki’s family. Mobius offered to print a fuzzy photo of Thor from the internet but Loki refused.

“I’m not saying we invite your dad, I know that’s...” Mobius gives Loki’s hands a gentle, supportive squeeze. “But what about Thor? I promised him a jetski ride.” A pause, then softer, “What about your mom?”

Loki can imagine Thor acting a buffoon on a sandy beach - building a sand-Asgard (or attempting to - Loki’s would be infinitely better), racing Mobius on jetskis, swimming out too far and having to use Mjolnir to fly back to safety.

Oddly, Loki can also imagine Frigga, perched on a lounge chair under an umbrella, flipping through pages of a book. She would be the judge of their theoretical sand-Asgard competition and would undoubtedly deem them equal, regardless of actual merit.

“There’s that smile,” Mobius says, drawing Loki back to the now, away from the beach and to their small apartment in Dubuque. “Maybe not such a bad idea after all?”

Hope burns hot in Loki’s chest, even as they say, “They’d never agree, even if we could find a way to invite them.”

“I don’t believe that,” Mobius says, and his confidence further brightens Loki’s hope. He tilts his head. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d never complain about having you all to myself.” He surely aims for a smile, and he gets one. “But... would it be okay if we tried?”

They’ll say no, Loki knows. They’ll never show. But blind hope has them nod their head, just once.

“Great.” Mobius lifts one of Loki’s hands and kisses the back of it. Then he releases them both and steps into the middle of the apartment.

“What are you doing?” Loki asks.

Mobius winks, then lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “Um, hi?” He furrows his brow and glances at Loki. “What was his name again? The guy who’s always watching? Helmdell?”

“Heimdall,” Loki says, “But I’m not sure he’ll appreciate playing messenger for such a silly request.”

“Come on,” Mobius says. “Guy is probably up there all day dealing with huge crises. He might appreciate something lighter for a change. Plus, if anything goes wrong, we can just blame the ignorant human.” He points his thumb to himself.

That this silly human man is so casually willing to bother a god with a party invitation has Loki want to hide their own face in embarrassment and also cover Mobius’s in kisses.

What an impossible fool.

“Mister Heimdall, sir?” Mobius says to the ceiling. “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you're busy. But if you could please let Loki’s mom and brother know that they are invited to come to our vacation in Malibu tomorrow? For a week? If they want to? I’d appreciate it. Uh, thank you.” He lowers his head, frowns, and lifts it again. “You can come too.”

“Mobius,” Loki hisses.

“He can come,” Mobius tells them as he returns to their side. In a whisper, he says, “We can’t be rude.”

Only the most extreme level of willpower keeps Loki from rolling their eyes. “If you were worried about rudeness, you should have invited my... the All-Father.”

Mobius’s smile slips. “No.”

It’s such a sudden turnabout that Loki’s brain goes quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry, Loki. If you want him there, of course, we can invite him, but listening to you talk about him. Even right now, did you hear yourself? You called him ‘All-Father,’ not Dad or Pops or even Odin. So formal. And look at you.” He grabs Loki by the elbows and jostles them a bit, and Loki realizes how tense they’ve been. “Coiled up like a spring about to pop. If this is what just mentioning him does to you, I don’t want that guy anywhere near you.”

Loki loosens as Mobius trails his hands to their shoulders.

“He may be displeased at not being invited,” Loki says.

“We’ll deal with that rainbow bridge when we cross it.”

Mobius rubs Loki’s shoulders, and Loki closes their eyes, putty in his hands.

“You cause infinite trouble for me, soulmate,” Loki says.

Mobius chuckles. “Yeah, but you like trouble. Keeps things interesting.” Mobius’s fingers dig into tight muscle, and Loki lets out a soft, relaxed sigh. “That’s why Regina’s your favorite.”

Loki’s eyes snap open. “She is not.”

“She’s the mischief-maker.”

“No, I assure you, she is far from my favorite. Her plans are so poorly executed that even Claudio, besotted as he constantly is over Georgina, catches wise of her almost instantly. She insults the name of mischief.”

“Maybe. But they wouldn’t have a show without her. She’s the only one who does anything.”

“No, you simply have not watched enough episodes...” Loki stops themself short and stands suddenly taller. “I know what you're doing.”

“Oh?”

“You are attempting to distract me.”

Mobius hums, and his little smile turns 100% smug. “It worked too, didn’t it?”

It did, and Loki is both infuriated and endeared at once. “How do you do this to me?”

Mobius shrugs. “You’re pretty easy to rile up.”

“That’s not what I mean, I -” They stop themself again, realizing they were about to admit to... feelings. Dangerous feelings. They swallow down the words they want to say, and say instead, “You infuriate me, Mobius.”

“Yeah,” Mobius says, “But you like that too.”

Loki does. All powers in the cosmos help them, they absolutely do.

They are as besotted with Mobius as Claudio is with Georgina. No, more so.

Mobius is so earnest and good and kind, and cares so much about Loki and Loki’s happiness, that even though Loki is annoyed, they still lean forward and kiss Mobius quick on the mouth.

Mobius closes his eyes for the kiss, then takes his time opening them again. He looks at Loki like they’re the brightest star in the sky, and Loki, chest swollen with an unfamiliar emotion that washes away all annoyance, even the faked kind, pulls Mobius into their arms and kisses him again, more properly.

Overwhelmed with warmth, Loki swoops Mobius up into their arms, mouth pressed against Mobius’s laugh, and carries him to the bed.

In the end, both suitcases end up on the floor, overturned, contents spread out all over, Mobius’s many shirts no longer perfectly folded. The one he was wearing will need some serious mending, buttons all ripped off. The pants are too torn to be salvageable.

Mobius holds Loki close and places soft kiss after soft kiss along their hairline. The space between one and the next lengthens until eventually they stop altogether.

With Mobius’s breath slow and steady in sleep, Loki leans to Mobius’s ear and whispers, “I think that I... I love you.”

*

“They aren’t going to come,” Loki says in the taxi cab to the airport.

“They surely have other matters to attend to,” Loki says at 30,000 feet.

“I cannot imagine them meeting us,” Loki says on the Californian tarmac,  even as they do imagine it - the four of them with multi-color drinks topped with sliced fruit, curly straws, and tiny umbrellas.

Mobius has not released their hand the entire voyage. “You never know. Stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger than two gods vacationing with their delinquent adopted relative?”

“Sure,” Mobius says with a shrug. “You hear the one about the gorgeous god who found their soulmate in a folksy dope of a human?”

A small measure of Loki’s anxiety melts away. “You are referring to when the realm’s bravest human opened their heart to a broken god?”

“Not broken,” Mobius says, suddenly serious. “Never broken.”

“Mobius,” Loki starts, but in a flash, Mobius easy smile returns.

“Come on. Let’s hit the beach.”

Loki bounces their leg the entire taxi drive to their beach-front hotel. Their suite is large, upgraded last minute at surely no small expense, to a set of three rooms, just in case Thor and Frigga decided to arrive. They change into swim trunks and descend the staircase off their balcony down to the sand. The hotel arranged a series of lounge chairs and umbrellas that Loki is eager to claim, but Mobius pulls them down to the water first.

“We’ve been in Iowa too long. We have to at least touch the ocean.”

Loki accommodates him enough to step into the water, ankle-deep. Mobius splashes in all the way. He dips below the surface, then reappears, drawing closer, soaking wet.

“Do not even think of -” Loki says, knowing what’s coming. Mobius allots them plenty of time to move if they wish, but they do not. Though they do groan in dismay as Mobius wraps them in a damp hug.

“Kiss me,” Mobius says, bright as the sunshine and laughing. “I taste like the ocean.”

Loki does not bother to stop their rolling eyes, even as they indulge him with a kiss. Hm, he does taste a bit salty. But it’s still Mobius underneath.

“Perhaps you are part fish,” Loki offers, teasing.

Mobius’s eyes light up. “Do you think mermaids are real? Mermen?”

Loki, watching Mobius’s youthful glee, has no desire to quash his joy, even slightly. “Perhaps?”

“Oh, man. How great would that be?” Mobius says and releasing Loki, flops back into the water.

Loki can’t help their smile. And they don’t want to either. Mobius makes them feel young again too, full of hope and possibilities. Like they could accomplish anything.

Like defying death.

Their smile slips, but they struggle to hold onto it, not wanting to ruin Mobius’s fun.

But even this trip carries the weight of Mobius’s unsaid wish, I want you to have something to remember me by.

“We will remember together,” Loki says under his breath, as Mobius jumps into a wave.

Then, like a boom of thunder across the beach, roars a voice, “Brother!”

Loki turns to see Thor in bright-colored shorts and a too-small white tank top walking toward him. Large sunglasses hide his eyes, and a swipe of white sunscreen streaks his nose, but his wide smile leaves no argument to his expression. And beside him...

Frigga wears a long, floral sundress and a wide-brimmed hat. Where Thor barrels forward, oaf-like, she moves like the water itself, each step on the sand fluid and careful.

Reality flashes through Loki, stealing his breath. When last she saw them, they were... not...

They have no idea what their relationship could be now.

This was a mistake.

Loki has to run.

They look at the water, but Mobius is too far out.

For Loki to run, they would have to leave Mobius.

Indecision roots them. To stay or to go.

But no, Frigga would not wear a sundress if she had meant only to renounce them. She would not dress as though she intends to stay.

And Mobius...

Loki steels their resolve. How tightly had Mobius held Loki after they fought about his job and he thought Loki gone forever? How many whispered promises had he made since then, of their staying together?

No. Mobius would not leave them. 

Loki will not abandon him either.

Thor reaches them first. “Good to see you again, Loki. Heimdall sends his regards, and his regrets. He could not get away.”

“Oh... uh, of course.”

“Where’s... oh!” Thor looks out at the water. “Mobius! My brother! Stay there, I will join you!” Then he trudges into the water, each step a large splash.

In his place, stands Frigga. Loki stands tall, bracing themself for perhaps-deserved condemnation.

But then their mother lifts a hand and places it softly to their cheek.

“My beautiful child,” she says, and it is enough. It is everything.

Loki falls into open arms, feeling much like a youth again, safe and protected in their mother’s embrace.

“Thank you for inviting us,” she says as she cards her fingers through their hair. “It was a most pleasant and unexpected surprise.”

“It was Mobius’s idea,” Loki admits.

“Your soulmate knows your heart well,” she says, kindness warm in her voice. “It brings this mother peace to see her child so happy. Especially after such a long period of distress.”

Loki closes their eyes and bites back their bubbling emotion. To have their pain acknowledge is almost too much. As to, is having the reaffirmation that they are her child, even now, even after everything.

Loki realizes too late that they are still wet from Mobius’s hug, and pulls away sharply. But Frigga keeps her arms on their shoulders, her smile ever-soft, ever-patient. She holds no harm for them, only kindness. Only joy.

Mobius approaches slowly, kicking gently through the water, creating only minimal disturbance to the water’s surface.

He looks first to Loki, as if studying their face. Loki knows he is searching for distress, that Mobius will rise to their defense with nary a moment’s notice. But he mustn’t see that, because a smile breaks wide on his face as he turns it toward Frigga.

He holds out his hand, dripping wet with saltwater. Frigga glances at his hand, then ignores it and pulls him into a hug, too.

“Thank you,” she says, voice nearly lost among the shift of the waves and the loud beating of Loki’s own heart.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Mobius’s voice is much stronger. “You’re always welcome to... oh.”

She says something else, something Loki cannot hear, something that makes Mobius’s smile soften and his eyes search out Loki’s over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, either,” Mobius says. “Loving them is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Loki’s whole world goes very still.

The sun shines. The waves continue to pound the sand. Somewhere, Thor calls out for them to join him. Mobius looks away from them, back to Frigga.

Loki just stands there, a single word, echoing loud in their head.

Mobius’s voice. Mobius’s word.

Love.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 16 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, physical fights, mentions of  torture (brief), blood and violence, character death. Read with care!

Word count: 4k

Part 16 - 30th June 1945

The N.E.W.T.s had gone by so quickly, it felt like all the preparations, all those years in Hogwarts and all the worries they had brought you, had been of utmost exaggeration. Of course, they had been challenging, but what the Professors had said about them in advance, how hard and draining they would be, how nervous every student had been, made it even more curious afterwards. It had only taken a few days after all. Some days of your life, which would most likely be forgotten in a few years. Just like any other week. And all that fuss for that? Well, at least they were over.

Tom, Camille and you had passed most classes with the highest grades. Freda had gotten some outstanding grades as well and even Avery and Lestrange had qualified, if only barely. The final evening in the Great Hall was filled with a strange kind of melancholy for the students of year seven. You had done it, all of you. Seven years in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was like your first year had only gone by moments ago, you could practically still feel the sorting hat sitting on top of your head. But alas, all good things come to an end.

Final points were given to all of the houses and, to most people’s surprise, Hufflepuff won the cup. Everyone knew headmaster Dippet favoured Slytherin and Tom and Freda had surely given their own house a few extra points here and there, but Avery and Lestrange’s robbery from Slughorn had cost Slytherin too many points to recover from. All Hufflepuffs were overwhelmed with joy and Ben even ran over from the Gryffindor table to kiss Camille on the cheek while she celebrated.

Walking through the halls one last time was strange, you couldn’t fathom that you would leave the castle ultimately. It really had grown to be everyone’s second home and it would always remain so in your heart. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of time for grief, as the antidote for Mors Grano was finally ready and waited to be filled into a flask to be used the following day. Tomorrow, June 30th would be your wedding day. A day you had dreaded but still couldn’t wait for. A day that was about to change everything.

And there you were. In an old chapel north of Ramsbury, a small muggle town, where no one knew who you were. The Gaunts had chosen the place themselves and had only told your family where to go the day of, most likely to make sure you couldn’t plan to mess with them. 

The chapel was dull, as was everything else there. No guests, not even a priest or a registrar to wed the two of you. Marvolo had told you that he was to do it himself. The place was so small, it wouldn’t have even fit a lot of guests, but you still wished that at least Camille could have been there to witness. And so, with a heavy heart, you stood in the tiny side room, where Mother’s wedding dress waited to be put on, while Elsie, your parents and the Gaunts waited in the chapel.

“Alright?” Tom asked as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror. 

You watched him as you went over towards the dress, your fingers brushing over the silk skirt. He looked great in his tailored black suit, white shirt and dark green tie, there was no way of denying it. Freda Morris would have been just as green with envy if she had seen him, but yet, not everything was about looks. 

“I’m alright,” you said and took another look at the dress. “I have to change now. Put this thing on.”

“I’ll give you some privacy in a minute,” he mentioned as he walked over to the desk where some things were gathered. He had put a large box there when you had arrived. “I brought someone with me.”

He pulled the top off from the box and you peaked in. “Nagini! Marvolo allowed for you to take her here?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tom shrugged. “And it would be better if it stayed that way.”

“I see,” you said as you held your hand inside the box for the snake to smell you. “Well at least I know one of my friends is here.” 

Tom wore an unreadable expression when he closed the box again, his lips thin as he nodded slightly. “Do you have the antidote with you?”

“Yes,” you answered and pulled it out from your pocket. The flask was the size of your palm, small and translucent. The potion inside shone through the glass like a silver and lilac gloss. “It’s right here.”

“Alright then,” he said. “Give it to your sister as soon as you can. I’ll wait outside with the others.”

When he closed the door behind himself you heard Marvolo nagging about what was taking so long, urging for you to hurry. The bastard made everything about himself again, even on your wedding day, which should have been the happiest day of your life. You pulled the dress off the hook vigorously, put it on and changed it here and there with your wand to make it fit better. When you went over to the mirror to look at yourself, it felt like staring at a stranger’s reflection. The dress was beautiful, but you didn’t look even close to what a happy bride should look like. Your hair and makeup had been done in a hurry, nothing was as perfect as it could have been. No traditions, no extended family or friends, not even a banquet. You didn’t know what you had expected - it was clear from the beginning that the wedding wouldn’t be anything like you had dreamed of since you were little - but it was certainly not this. Not as marginal, not as a means to an end.

Three hard knocks on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” Marvolo’s muffled voice called. “Hurry up!”

Desperation turned into annoyance and your eyebrows furrowed even deeper. What did he want now? “I need a minute,” you answered as you opened the door only an inch. “Elsie, Mum, can you help me with my dress?”

Marvolo mumbled a few incomprehensible words while the two walked in. To hell with him, he could wait for five more minutes before he would get what he wanted. And you should get what you wanted too. Right now.

Mother looked you up and down with a smile. “You look beautiful, darling. What do you need help with?”

“Come,” you told them quietly and took Elsie by the hand, leading her to the other end of the tiny room, so that the Gaunts wouldn’t hear you. “I have to tell you something.”

The two looked at each other and then back at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I found something out a while back. Tom told me, he showed me. The curse that hit you, Elsie, it wasn’t sent by someone who wanted to attack Father. It wasn’t meant for Father at all.”

Elsie’s eyes grew wide and Mother laid her hand on your sister‘s shoulder. “What do you mean? Why would you tell us that minutes before your wedding?” Mother asked.

“Let me explain,” you went on. “Tom showed me that it was the Gaunts who sent the curse. That’s why they found a cure so quickly. And why they didn’t heal her completely.”

Mother gasped faintly, her hand wandered up to her own chest. “You mean…”

“Yes. They chose Elsie specifically so that you and Father would agree to their pact.”

“I… I can’t believe it,” Mother mumbled.

“They made me sick?” Elsie asked, her eyes as big and round as marbles. “On purpose?”

You nodded.

“But why haven’t you told us sooner?” Mother asked. “We could have-”

“I did as much as I could without attracting too much attention. Tom and I, we both assumed that the Gaunts wouldn’t even lift Elsie’s curse after the wedding. And even if they did, I wouldn’t trust them enough to let you drink anything that they would give to her again. So we brewed the antidote ourselves.”

You pulled out the flask and held it up in the air. Mother took it and inspected it for a moment. “You brewed that?”

“Yes. Elsie, take it right now. You will be healed completely then and the Gaunts won’t notice anything.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mother asked. “And what then? What are you going to do?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s safe. And then,” you looked at the door to the chapel and heaved a sigh. “Then I’ll get married. Stick to the plan.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said as she handed Elsie the flask.

“Would you rather have her drink something that Morfin brewed up? If he would give her anything at all.”

“You’re right,” she said and shook her head.

“Quick Elsie,” you urged her. “Drink up and we’ll be ready to go.”

Elsie nodded as she pulled the cork off the flask, then put her lips around the opening and took a small gulp. She scrunched up her face into a grimace. “Tastes gross.”

“Sorry, princess. They don’t make recipes for strawberry flavoured antidotes yet. Now drink it.”

Elsie exhaled sharply, then threw her head back and let the liquid pour into her mouth. One swig, two. She had it down almost completely when suddenly the door flew open.

“Excuse me ladies, what is taking you so long?” Marvolo asked, standing in the door frame, with Morfin, Father and Tom behind him. Marvolo stared at Elsie, who was just gulping down the last drops from the flask. “What is that? What did you give her?”

The three of you froze, staring back at Marvolo and the other men. Shit.

“Just her vitamins,” you lied. “To make sure she’s well for the ceremony.”

“No, no,” Marvolo huffed as he walked in. “Give me that.” He took the flask from Elsie’s hand and brought it up to his nose. “Morfin, come here.”

Morfin entered the room as well, took a look at the empty flask and smelled it. Father and Tom took several steps in too, filling up the room almost completely. 

“Stop,” Marvolo ordered and held his hand up to Father and Tom. “I didn’t tell you to come in.” The two halted and remained standing by the door. “Now, son. What is it?”

Morfin inspected the remaining liquid inside the flask, shaking it to see the single droplets hanging inside the vial. One side of his mouth pulled up into a ghastly smirk before he spoke through gritted teeth: “Mors Grano antidote.”

Marvolo brought his hand up to his neck, fumbling on the chain that hung there. That must have been where he carried their own flask with the unfinished antidote. It was still there, which visibly confused him. He remained calm, wouldn’t dare to show that he didn’t know how you had done it, his eyes dark and full of anger.

“You little bitch,” he spat. “Morfin, take the child.”

Morfin did as he was told, quicker than any of you could have reacted and pulled Elsie to the middle of the room by the hand, then stepped behind her, one hand around her neck, his wand in his other one, pointed right at Elsie’s head.

Mother cried out when she saw what had happened to her daughter and turned to walk over to her, while Father ran towards Morfin and Elsie as well.

“Stupefy!” Marvolo called, his wand directed at Father, who fell to the ground immediately. “I told you not to step in. No one’s making a move now unless I tell them to.”

Mother fell to her knees, looking at Father unconscious on the ground and Marvolo gaped at her in disgust. “Take your husband. And shut your mouth, or you’ll be lying there with him.”

She pressed her lips shut and crawled over to Father, slowly dragged him to the corner of the room behind you, where she held his head between her hands. Silent tears ran down Elsie’s cheeks, who was still captured between Morfin’s hand and his wand. You had managed to pull out your own wand during the turmoil and looked over at Tom in the doorframe, who had done the same.

Marvolo had noticed the looks you had exchanged and heaved a bitter laugh. “You two, eh? Partners in crime. And what do you think you’re doing there, girl? With your wand out. Do you really think you can defeat me with your schoolbook magic?”

You gripped your wand tighter to prevent your hand from shaking, swallowed down thickly and frowned. There were a million things you wanted to say, thousands of curse words you could have called him, but Morfin still had Elsie between his fingers. “Don’t you underestimate me, Marvolo.”

He clicked his tongue, let his head fall back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, juveniles. Graduated a day ago and think they’ll conquer the world. Well, I got some bad news for you then. But first, you’re going to tell me how you’ve found out about Mors Grano. And how you got a hold of an antidote that isn’t ours.”

You didn’t answer and only looked at Elsie, who breathed rapidly, her hands holding on to Morfin’s grip around her neck.

“I see,” Marvolo sighed and turned his head towards the door. “Tom, would you give us the honour then? Come, stand next to your fiancée.”

Tom walked over silently and placed himself next to you, his hand gripping yours.

“Oh look at that,” Marvolo feigned. “Tragically in love. Now, Tom, explain.”

Tom didn’t answer, only held your hand a bit tighter and you could feel something cold inside of it, something metallic, perhaps.

“No?” Marvolo asked. “You don’t want to tell us? Well, then we’ll have to motivate you. Morfin, go ahead.”

Morfin grinned but didn’t point his wand at Elsie anymore. Instead, he pointed it right at you. “Crucio!”

The pain that rushed through you was unbearable from the moment it had started. You fell to your knees and opened your mouth to scream, but couldn’t even hear yourself or anyone else anymore. A million knives must have pierced your body at once, and they scraped off your skin with rusty blades inch by inch, while your head hammered and stung as if a lightning bolt had struck right into it. Your vision had left you from the pain, everything around you had gone white and you only heard scraps of conversation between the all-consuming buzz that rumbled between your ears. Tom was begging them to stop, you assumed, but couldn’t concentrate on his words anymore, as the pain threatened to crack your skull.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times when your perception came back and felt a small hand on your cheek. Elsie kneeled above you, next to Tom.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse, while you sat up groggily.

Marvolo was still standing in his spot, looking down at Morfin, who lay on the ground, holding his leg with both hands. And attached to his thigh, was Nagini, pressing her fangs into him through his trousers.

“Nagini,” you whispered and as soon as you had said her name, the snake let go of Morfin and retracted.

“She crawled out of her box when he hit you with the curse,” Tom said quietly. “And bit him before they could have noticed.”

Tom helped to get you on your feet again and even though your knees were still weak from the Cruciatus Curse, you stood in front of Elsie, to shield her from the Gaunts.

Morfin winced in pain and still held his leg. Nagini’s venom spread quickly, Morfin’s thigh was twitching on its own.

“Father,” Morfin whined. “I need treatment. Help me get home.”

Marvolo looked down at his son, lips parted with an expression of sheer revulsion on his face. “Do you think I have time to take care of your little injuries right now? Suck it up.”

“But… But Father, I can’t feel my leg anymore,” Morfin panted. “I might die when the venom reaches my heart.”

Marvolo sighed and bumped his foot against Morfin’s hurt leg, to which his son screamed. “Then leave.”

Morfin nodded, it must have taken all of his remaining strength not to pass out, and closed his eyes before he apparated, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.

“Now back to you,” Marvolo said and looked at Tom as if nothing more than a minor inconvenience had just occurred. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can kill everyone in this room within a second.”

Tom still didn’t answer and placed himself in front of Elsie and you, which made Marvolo laugh again.

“Oh, boy. You’d sacrifice yourself? For this family and not your own? I know I’ve raised you differently. You’re a disgrace.”

“You want me to tell you everything?” Tom asked. “Then let me come closer, so I can share all of my secrets.”

Marvolo remained unimpressed at the thought, there was no spell he couldn’t counter. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come as close as you want, son. But keep your wand up, where I can see it.”

And so Tom went. One step, two, three, four, until he was face to face with his grandfather. Marvolo still eyed Tom’s wand, gripping his own tightly. And then, Tom moved his other hand abruptly, jerking it toward Marvolo’s abdomen once. You couldn’t see from where you stood and only noticed when Marvolo looked down himself and opened his mouth.

“Imperio,” Tom said quietly while Marvolo fell to his knees.

Now that you could see what he had done, you put your hands in front of Elsie’s eyes, holding them closed. Marvolo was bleeding from his stomach and Tom held a bloody knife in his wandless hand.

“I’m just making sure you can’t apparate,” Tom said coldly. “Like uncle did. The coward. I want to see how you die.”

Marvolo looked up at Tom, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, tears edging on the corners of his eyes. 

“No. You don’t get to talk now,” Tom went on. “Never again. You’re going to listen. And I’m even going to tell you what you wanted to hear. I found a way to tell her what you have done to Elsie. I stole Morfin’s book, and we brewed the antidote ourselves. Oh yes, before I forget, we also stole some Banshee tears from Morfin, while you were out. Scrook and Hokey were very helpful. I even learned some new things this year. Some of them from a muggle-born, can you believe? It got me thinking, you purebloods are so concentrated on magic, you wouldn’t even realise when I’d come up to you with a knife in my hand. And I was right. You didn’t. You see, you called me a bastard so often and reminded me that my father was a muggle. So I thought I’d remind you myself how much of a half-blood I am. Isn’t it awful dying the muggle way? So slowly, so weak.”

Marvolo laid to the side, impacted by the Imperius Curse and opened his mouth, coughing up blood, his eyes half-closed.

“And now, here we are,” Tom whispered. “You did this all to yourself. Good night, Grandfather.”

It took a while until you all had calmed yourselves. Father had woken up some minutes after Marvolo had closed his eyes completely and you had brought Elsie into the chapel, so she wouldn’t have to see the body. Tom, your parents and you hadn’t decided yet what to do with Marvolo. You had thought about leaving him there, or to apparate him to Gaunt manor, where the elves or Morfin could take care of it. If Morfin himself was still alive. 

Mother joined you in the chapel and you took the chance to get some fresh air outside. Only out in the open you noticed that you were still wearing the white dress. What scorn of fate it was to watch someone die on your wedding day. The door opened again behind you and Tom walked out. He had managed to remain composed better than anyone else there, even though he was the one who had killed somebody.

He walked up to you, looking at the ground and only lifted his head when he stood right in front of you. A warm breeze brushed over your skin as the sun was setting. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. Physically you were. Your mental state was debatable. “I think I am.”

Tom dipped his head once too and loosened his tie. “Are you scared of me after what you’ve seen?” 

You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head slightly. His pupils were extended, brows sitting calmly above. “No,” you answered. “I would have done the same if I had to.”

He bit his lip and nodded, hands inside his pockets before he took them out, held you by your waist and kissed you. All the tension and stress seemed to leave your body for a moment, your shoulders finally relaxing and you wished you could hold on to him like this for an hour. Tom stayed close for a moment, pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “So,” he said as he took a step back. “The pact is done with. Elsie is cured. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. He was right. “I guess I don’t.”

Tom pushed the tip of his shoe through the gravel on the ground, drawing patterns. “But I wanted to know,” he said. “Would you have gone through with it if this had turned out differently? Would you have married me and stayed?”

There was a moment of silence when you thought about it. What answer could anyone give to such a question? You liked him, yes, you would even dare to say you were in love with him. But would you have really married him this quickly if you could have decided yourself?

“Would you?” you asked, to which he smirked. The wind tousled his hair, just like when you had sat with him at the bench back in the Hogwarts’ courtyard. “Why don’t you ask me? Properly I mean.”

Tom’s smirk vanished and he looked at you seriously. He took both of your hands in his, inspecting you closely. He opened his mouth but shut it again to clear his throat. Then he asked: “Do you want to marry me?”

A smile formed on your face, one that he didn’t mirror, as long as you wouldn’t answer him. “No,” you said. 

Tom’s expression didn’t change, but when you looked closely, you noticed that the size of his pupils had decreased, his brows now hanging in confusion. He still held your hands but you could feel him trembling.

“Not yet,” you added, your smile still in place. “Not like this and certainly not today. Not on Marvolo’s terms. Not without my friends and not before we really get to know each other and both decide, on our own, that we want to do it.”

You leaned forward, kissed him once and said: “So, ask me again in a year or two?”

And then, the rarest sight of them all, Tom Riddle smiling genuinely, was given to you. He looked so handsome wearing it and with the orange light from the setting sun on his face when he let your hands go and pulled you in.

“I promise I will.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

That was it, the grande finale :3 I truly hope you liked it! There’s still one more part to come, the epilogue, which will hopefully please the majority of you. I see it as a little cherry on top. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!

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