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tkwrites · 1 year

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Love, even in the hard parts. - Quinn Hughes x ofc

photo from pinterest

Title: Love, even in the hard parts.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Original female character

Warnings: grief, mentions of a dead mother, lots of crying, hospitals

Summary: When his mom can't make it to take Quinn to surgery, Sarah steps in inspite of her hatred of hospitals.

Word count: 2500

Comments: This was very much written for myself. As someone who lost both of her parents young, it's often a struggle to find people to relate to about it. A struggle to find people who look for and see pain in others the way I have learned to see it after experiencing it so deeply. I wrote this on a day when I was really missing my mom, and wishing I had another mother figure in my life to give me a warm embrace, or a romantic partner to comfort me through the pain. It's a bit unrealistic to expect someone to fulfill needs without being asked, but that's why it's a fantasy.

These are the same characters as before, but there's not really a timeline. These are just snapshots from their life together.

Love, Even in the Hard Parts

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah hated hospitals. Ever since waiting in one, just to learn her mom couldn’t be saved, she felt anxious and on the verge of tears anytime she was in one.

Ellen was supposed to be here to take Quinn to and from surgery, but her flight had been delayed, so Sarah had stepped in. First, only to drop him off, but upon another text from Ellen, to stay and wait for him to wake.

Quinn had assured her he could ask a teammate to pick him up, but she didn’t want him to be with someone he didn’t know well. Petey had already gone back to Sweden.

She’d had her tonsils removed. It had been more than 10 years, but she still remembered waking up and feeling like she’d swallowed a sandbox. She wouldn’t want to be with anyone but someone she trusted completely.

She had headphones on, and was listening to a romance novel, trying to distract herself from the smell. She’d even rubbed peppermint oil under her nose to try to mask it. Both the oil and the novel were helping, but her heart still thundered in her chest and tears stung behind her eyes, threatening to spill out.

She’d missed the window to walk outside. Now she was too close to him waking up to leave.

When Rose, the motherly looking nurse who had taken Quinn back for surgery, tapped her gently on the shoulder, Sarah jolted. Fear rocketed to her fingertips, making them tingle with misplaced energy.

She smiled kindly, “I'm sorry, hon. He’s just waking up now if you want to come back.”

Slipping her headphones around her neck, Sarah coached herself into standing and followed the nurse into the hallway.

They were in the VIP section, and it looked almost homey. It was still a hospital, and still smelled too sterile and disinfected, but at least it wasn’t 70 different colors of beige and green.

“Here you go,” Rose held the door open for Sarah to step through. She’d been so caught in her own thoughts she didn’t think she could find her way back to the waiting room if she tried.

“Quinn,” Rose said gently, “your wife is here.”

“Girlfriend,” Sarah corrected automatically as she sat in the chair next to the bed.

He gave her a lopsided, drunk smile. "You can be my wife for the day," he said, voice gravelly.

She could see in his face that he was going to be sick before he began to cough. She grabbed the basin off the table next to the bed and held it under his chin, helping him tip his head forward so he wouldn’t get any vomit on himself.

He winced as he settled back.

“I was just about to say,” Rose said, taking the basin from Sarah’s hands, “you’ll want to avoid talking for the next day or two. It can aggravate the gag reflex.”

She took the basin into the bathroom and came out with a fresh one. “It’s very normal to vomit quite a bit after a tonsillectomy,” she assured.

Sarah nodded, looking around the room. It was bigger than any she’d been in in the past. And far more private. Quinn had a beautiful view of the city through a large picture window opposite his bed. Everything was painted in warm, cozy colors. But it was still a hospital, and he still had an IV in his arm that she willed her eyes to skip over every time she looked at him.

His hand came to rest on hers, solid and comforting. When their eyes met, Quinn - even in his drugged up, addled state - could see the sadness and fear in her face. It bothered him that he couldn’t comfort her the way he wanted to.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. No gag came. He would just have to talk quietly.

She nodded, even though she clearly wasn’t. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged one shoulder up. “Thirsty.”

“Can he have some water?” Sarah asked, thankful to have something to do.

“Gulping can be quite hard, and he won’t be able to use a straw for a week or so, but I’ll get you some ice chips. Do you want them flavored, sweetheart?”

He shook his head.

Rose came back a few minutes later with a cup of soft, pellet ice.

Sarah helped him get it into his mouth, and he sighed when the cold liquid began trailing down his sore throat.

Thirty minutes later, Ellen came blustering into the hospital room, a suitcase wheeling behind her.

“I’m so sorry,” she told Sarah, gathering her into a hug.

Sarah shook her head, and pulled away before she could get too comfortable. An embrace like that would certainly bring her tears spilling over the surface.

“How is he?”

She pointed to the hospital bed, where Quinn was awake, but listlessly so. Sliding between resting and waking to let more ice melt in his mouth.

She didn’t trust herself to speak. There was a certain, intense jealousy that came over her any time she saw someone else’s mother come to support them. Even if she loved them, it was still hard to see and know she would never again get that same support from her own mom.

“Quinn? Quinn, I’m here.”

Hearing his mom's voice brought him out of another stupor.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, pushing his hair off of his forehead.

“Fine,” he whispered.

His eyes sought Sarah in the room. She had her back to them, her arms wrapped so tightly around herself, he could see a peek of her Canucks blue nail polish under each arm.

Ellen settled in the chair next to the bed. Through the rustle of her clothing, Quinn heard Sarah sniff.

“Mom?”

“What, honey?” she asked, smoothing his hair again, “what can I get you?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, testing the limits of his voice. He had to pause and swallow. It hurt, like trying to swallow glass or a golf ball.

She offered him more ice.

He took the cup, but didn’t tip it to his mouth, “Mom, I can't right now, but Sarah really needs someone."

Ellen’s eyes shifted to look at her son's girlfriend, standing proud and contained, looking out the window.

As they watched, her hand swiped over her cheek. Even from there, they could see the sheen of liquid smeared over her fingers.

Ellen squeezed Quinn’s hand and walked over to her. It was just like Quinn, to see someone else's need and find a way to fill it even if he couldn't do it himself.

When the younger woman turned to look at her, fat tears were pooled in her eyes, and rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh, Sarah,” Ellen whispered, and gathered her into an embrace.

Sarah began to really cry then. She wasn’t loud, but her breath shook, and her gasps and cries were tiered, as if she were going up and down stairs.

Ellen held her and smoothed her hair, letting her cry into her shoulder in such a maternal way, Sarah felt both relieved and sad. Her own mother was never as thin as Ellen, but Ellen’s embrace was strong, keeping her grounded the way Sarah needed.

“I just miss her so much,” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

A while later, she added, “I wish I could have met her.”

That brought on a fresh wave of tears that had Sarah crying louder.

Ellen hugged her tighter, palming the back of her head to keep her head on her shoulder. It had been so long since one of her boys had needed this kind of motherly comfort. This was dually the easiest and hardest part of motherhood. The ‘I’ll hold you while you cry and help you put the pieces back together’ kind of motherhood. At the same time, knowing you couldn’t fix all your child's hurts, or take away their pain.

It brought tears to Ellen's eyes to think that she could stand in for Sarah’s mom in this small way.

A few minutes later, Sarah pulled away, feeling more than a little embarrassed. She wiped at her eyes, and forced a bit of a laugh, “I’m sorry, thank you.”

Ellen took her by the shoulders, “Sarah, you don’t need to thank me, and you certainly don’t need to apologize.”

“I just,” Sarah met her gaze, “thank you. Being here has been really hard.”

“I know. Quinn told me,” she assured, her palm still traveling up and down her back in a soothing pattern. “Thank you for taking such good care of my baby while I was getting here.”

That night, after stopping at the store for ice cream and Popsicles, and watching the game, Quinn settled into bed while Sarah puttered around fussing over him.

“You're sure you don't need anything else?” she asked, finally stopping to look into his face.

He shook his head. “I need you to come to bed.” He patted the space next to him.

She nodded, toed out of her slippers and finally - finally settled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for taking me and taking care of me today,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

She propped herself up with one arm to look at him.

“I love you, Quinn,” she said as if it explained everything. “Of course I'll take care of you.”

“I know, but I know it was hard for you today.”

Her smile was a bit defeated. She wanted to be done with the hospital, even though she knew it was better to talk and process the emotions.

“Thank you for telling your mom what I needed,” she said, her own voice pulled tight with the memory.

“I wish I could have been holding you,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Never in any kind of relationship - friendship, sibling or romantic - had someone seen a need and filled it so quickly, without her having to ask. To find support given before seeking – to find that Quinn was paying attention to her too. It made her chest tight with gratitude, and her voice wobble with emotion. This was the first relationship that didn’t feel out of balance as they so often had in the past. They cared for each other in visible, tangible ways.

“You gave me the next best thing,” she whispered. “Thanks for sharing her with me.”

“That’s not sharing, Sar, my mom loves you.”

She gave a defeated little sigh, “I know, it’s just…" her voice trailed off in that thinking way of hers, "thanks for seeing me, I guess.”

He laughed a little at the absurdity of her statement and immediately had to throw up.

By some miracle of physics, he managed to get to the small trash can his mom had set next to the bed.

Without complaint, Sarah got out of bed, took the bag out of the trash can and to the garage bin. When she came back, she had a bottle of water and a large cup.

“Swish and spit,” she said, handing them over. He spit in the cup while she replaced the liner. She made him do it twice more before she dumped the contents into the ensuite sink and came back to settle next to him again.

“Why wouldn’t I see you?” he whispered a while later, after the lights had been turned off, and what she said was still lingering in his mind.

A sigh moved her shoulder into his chest with a little more force than before. “I just mean… I’m usually the one doing the caring, not the other way around, and it's nice - to be cared for.”

He adjusted a little to get more of his arm around her. “I love taking care of you,” he whispered into her hair.

Turning over, she tucked her face into the crook of his neck. He felt her tears on his skin before he heard them.

He held her and let her cry. From everything he knew about her past relationships, she was often taken advantage of. Doing all the emotional work without getting much in return. She would be the first to tell him that her unwillingness to share her emotions was the main culprit for that. Even after therapy taught her to express herself and ask for what she needed, she always seemed surprised to find him still there when she had a hard day, as if he might run away from her pain. But nothing worth anything didn’t take a little work. It was all about intention. And he loved her and wanted to be with her, so he focused his intention on that, no matter the hurdle in their path.

For her part, Sarah was glad Quinn came from a family that understood grief. A month before she met him, she had decided not to date anyone who hadn’t lost a parent or sibling. It was just too hard to explain the waves of grief to someone who hadn’t gone through it. Quinn had surprised her, sharing some of his father’s stories about losing his mother when she brought it up for the first time. He didn’t have that first-hand experience, but he was sympathetic, and even once told her he asked his parents for advice when they first started dating. He was all in, and she realized that meant more than anything else.

When she lifted her head eventually, Quinn brushed her tears away with his thumb. Leaving his hand there, cupping the soft curve of her jaw, he smiled and kissed her gently. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

She settled back in again, tucked into Quinn’s side as they drifted to sleep.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x oc #greif #tw greif #quinn hughes fan fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #Quinn & Sarah Snapshots #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes oneshot #hockey fic #hockey romance

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corruptedcaps · 1 year

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Against the clock

Tory was getting that telltale itch as she sat in detention watching the clock tick down excruciatingly slow. She hated herself for feeling that way, for having the addiction. But she needed the release. She knew in a way it had ruined her life and was the reason she was in detention in the first place but in other more obvious ways it had made her life so much better. A week ago the idea that a good girl like her would be in here for bullying would have been absurd.

It had all started when she had agreed to tutor Chad. Chad was the school’s quarterback and newly most eligible bachelor since his bitchy girlfriend Veronica had moved away. Tory didn’t for a second have any interest in Chad. He was brash, vain and as big of a bully as Veronica but he was also rich and his money was something too good to pass up.

Her best friend Tina had raised some concerns however. “Isn’t he passing all his classes automatically because they need him on the field? Why would he get a tutor when he doesn’t even take a test?”

Tory had simply shrugged and said, “I don’t know? Maybe now that Veronica is out of his life he wants to better himself? She was always such a bad influence on him. Ever since she’s been gone he’s been a lot more quiet. I don’t think he’s bullied a single person.”

Tina remained unconvinced but Tory had put some of that down to knowing Tina had a crush on Chad. She knew deep down that Tina was jealous of her getting to spend time with Chad.

Arriving at Chad’s lush house, she was greeted warmly by him at the door. “Tory, come on in.” He said as he placed his hand on her lower back and guided her in. Tory strangely felt butterflies as he did.

To her surprise he then led her upstairs to his bedroom. She expected to study in his living room or kitchen but his bedroom would be fine too, even if it did make her butterflies go into overdrive.

“So where would you like to start? I’ve got history and math with me but if there is another subject you’d like…” She started saying before noticing him begin to take out a box labelled ‘Veronica’.

“What? Oh yeah the tutor stuff, yeah yeah we’ll do that in a minute but I wanted to ask if you wanted any of Veronica’s old stuff? I know she was particularly hard on you and thought it was only fair that you take something of hers now that she’s gone. She left it here before she moved.” Chad said. Tory felt a little touched that he would make this gesture even if she could care less about anything Veronica owned.

She didn’t want to seem rude so peered into the box and saw tight dresses, short skirts, assorted jewelry and various makeup all piled on top of each other. Absolutely nothing she saw interested her. However she could tell he wanted her to take something so she took the one thing that did slightly catch her eye, a perfume bottle with the letter ‘V’ emblazoned on it.

“Oh good choice. I always loved that perfume on Veronica.” Chad said with a smile that made Tory’s butterflies work up again. He was kind of charming, she thought to herself as she turned the perfume bottle over in her hands. A cheeky voice in her head was telling her to try some of the perfume on now. He did say he liked the smell, maybe he could like her if she put some on?

Uncapping the bottle she squirted a little on herself that proved to be more than enough as it quickly rushed to her nose, burning her nostrils with its sweet smell. Despite her memory of the smell being tied to her bullying she had to admit in that moment it smelt good on her.

“Ok so which subject do you… oh… ohhhhhh what’s happening?” She said as she suddenly felt a shift in her body start to take place.

As the mist from the perfume bottle engulfed Tory, a surge of energy coursed through her body, setting off a sequence of remarkable changes. Starting from her fingertips, her nails lengthened, gleaming with a lustrous coat of glossy pink, each one tapering into a perfectly sculpted point, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication.

“Ohhhh fuck I love how bitchy these look.” She said with a smirk before catching herself. “No what am I saying? This isn’t right!”

Tory's brown hair shimmered with an otherworldly radiance, transforming into cascading locks of lustrous, golden blonde. Her once shy, reserved demeanor dissolved, replaced by an air of captivating allure and self-assurance. Her soft features took on a sculpted elegance, cheekbones accentuated, and her eyes intensified, twinkling with mischief.

“Ohhhh but if this is wrong then who the fuck wants to be right?! More! I want more!” She moaned in pleasure.

Moving down, her legs experienced a remarkable transformation. They elongated and became more slender, accentuated by a gentle curve that drew attention to their graceful contours. Tory's ass, once modest and unassuming, transformed into a voluptuous, sculpted masterpiece. It gained an irresistible sway, captivating Chad’s attention with each confident step she took. She loved how he looked at her.

“Like what you see baby? Of course you do.” She said with a wink to a transfixed Chad. Her former repulsion to him had quickly grown into lust. She wanted him but she knew she wasn’t ready yet.

Tory's skin took on a flawless, porcelain-like quality, as if kissed by an ethereal glow. The once shy nerd found herself blessed with a radiant complexion, free from imperfections, with a delicate blush highlighting her cheekbones. Her tits, previously modest in size, blossomed into fuller, more pronounced breasts, accentuated by a newfound confidence that accentuated her feminine allure.

As the physical transformation completed, a shift in her personality became apparent. Tory's once kind and compassionate nature was overshadowed by a growing insatiable desire for power and adulation. The perfume's malevolent influence seeped into her soul, igniting a voracious hunger for control. Confidence transformed into arrogance, and shyness morphed into calculated manipulation.

“Oh fuck what a rush! You evil bastard, you knew this would happen didn’t you?” She said with a smirk as she sauntered over to him like a lioness.

“I made Veronica into the cold hearted bitch that she was, before me she was just another loser nobody like you used to be but I must say you look way better than she ever did.” Chad said as he drank in her body.

“Of course I’m better than her! Look at me, I’m perfection. I’m a goddess! Tory is dead, I’m Victoria the mega bitch now. I’m going to enjoy taking over that pathetic school on Monday but for now how about you take that big dick out for me baby so I can seal the deal as your hawt girlfriend.” Victoria said more as a command than a request.

The weekend was a whirlwind for not only Victoria but her family too. Her parents were shocked at her sudden and dramatic transformation but everything that made Tory a shy and unconfident girl was learned from them so Victoria easily had them under her heel. They were powerless to stop her taking their credit card and using it for herself. Her first stop was the mall to get herself new clothes. She was trying on her 7th dress of the day when she suddenly felt her body begin to ripple and change.

Chad hadn’t warned her that she needed to spray herself with the perfume every 24 hours otherwise she’d change back into Tory. Within moments her perfect tan was gone, her bitchy blonde hair darkened and her big boobs deflated. In a panic she reached for her phone and rang Chad who quickly filled her in.

“You didn’t think that was important to tell me?!” She yelled as she emptied her purse in the changing room looking for the bottle. Snatching it up she sprayed herself heavily and felt the mist settle onto her quickly and revert her back to her bitchy self.

“Mmmm much better.” She said with joy as she watched her boobs grow again and her hair shimmer.

“Sorry babe it slipped my mind.” She heard Chad say from her phone. She rolled her eyes and hit ‘end’ on the call. She was furious at him, she would make him spoil her rotten later but for now she had a new wardrobe to prepare for school.

Each outfit she tried on made her feel more confident, more bitchy, more powerful. It helped that as she strolled from store to store she felt the eyes of at least a dozen men on her. She felt intoxicated by their gazes, empowered by their lust. She even let a few of them give her their numbers.

At school on Monday Victoria quickly asserted her dominance over the student body. Within a few hours she had Veronica’s old clique completely loyal to her and following her around showering her with compliments as she picked on and teased everyone and anyone.

No one was spared from her venom but one person in particular had received more than the average, Tory’s friend Tina. Victoria seemed to relish in her bullying of Tina, as if she were attacking any remnant of her time as Tory. She made sure Tina was hounded day and night and found herself even getting wet bullying her former best friend.

“It must drive you mad knowing I fuck your crush nightly. He is even better than you can imagine. I told him about your little obsession with him and he nearly puked.” She said to Tina on Friday at the end of the week of abuse. However this was the last straw for poor Tina who lashed out at Victoria ripping her dress.

“You little maggot! How fucking dare you! Girls, grab her.” She said with a snap of her fingers and her minions quickly accosted Tina and dragged her into a nearby bathroom. Victoria watched in joy as her betas held Tina’s head in the toilet giving the queen herself the privilege of pressing the flush.

“That’s it girls, make sure we get every inch of her head, it’s the only shower she’s had in weeks.” Victoria said with a chortle and her clique laughed in sickening unison. Victoria leaned over to push the flush when suddenly the door opened and the principal stood there in disgust.

As she sat in detention, she didn’t care how it looked on her record. In fact she knew it would be a badge of honour and a warning to anyone who would try and step to her. No she was more worried about getting back to her perfume. She knew the principal would confiscate everything she had on her before dropping her in detention but thankfully she slid her bag to Chad who was nearby.

She hadn’t sprayed herself in the 24 hour window yet and with 20 minutes still left of detention she has completely reverted back to being Tory. She hungered for the perfume and the claw marks on her desk proved it.

Finally the bell rang and she rushed out of the door and straight to where Chad said he was. She could almost smell the perfume as she rounded the corner only to realize it wasn’t her imagination. Standing before her, a vision of pink and blonde was a woman of immense beauty and a cold eyed stare that stopped Tory in her tracks. In the woman’s hand was the perfume bottle. The only thing worse than Tory not having the perfume was her knowing who had it.

“Tina?” Tory said dumbfounded but knowing beyond a doubt the transformed goddess before her was Tina.

“That’s Valentina to you now loser.” Her previous bestie said with venom.

“Chad? What gives? You said I was even better than Veronica! I’m the best girlfriend you’ve ever had!” Tory said slowly losing confidence.

“You WERE the best but I know you’ve been cheating on me, and after everything I gave you. When you said Valentina here was obsessed with me, I knew she was the worthy successor and not you.” Chad said with a smirk.

“When Chad offered to make me into his new wicked girlfriend I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I just needed to separate you from the perfume. Who do you think tipped off the principal.” Valentina said with a cold calculating smile.

“You bitch!” Tory said as she ran at Valentina but was soon met with by a wall of bitchy betas that used to be her clique.

“Right on time girls. Grab the little bitch and finish what she started.” Valentina smirked as her friends roughly grabbed Tory and shoved her into the bathroom. Valentina meanwhile remained in place with Chad.

“Don’t you want to flush her babe?” Chad said to her but she just turned and smiled at him.

“Who the fuck cares about her? There’s only one thing I’m interested in now and it’s between those legs of yours.” She said as she pulled him away towards a nearby closet.

As the two fucked like carnal animals Valentina wondered to herself, what was getting her off more? Chad, or the sounds of wailing and flushing nearby.l?

The End

#f2f #corruption #evil bitch #bitchification #magic #evil couple #corrupted couple #cc2023

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themculibrary · 6 days

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Hello- i could use some help finding a Stucky fic from years ago. From what I remember, it is a soulmate au where steve and Bucky have each-others first words but when steve undergoes project rebirth, buckys mark fades and thinks he died. And then in the future steve has a new mark that ends up being the first words the winter soldier said to him.

This one?

(You Can't Choose) What Stays and What Fades Away (ao3) - Taste_is_Sweet steve/bucky G, 3k

Summary: At some point in everyone's life, the first words their soulmate will ever say to them will appear in deep black writing on their skin.

The words fade to light grey when a soulmate dies.

Sometimes new words replace them, whether they're wanted or not.

(These were the words Steve was born with, running in a messy, uneven line across his skinny little chest, beneath both his collarbones: You okay, pal? Those jerks didn't hurt ya too bad, did they?

Steve woke up from the ice in 2011 with the words, Who the hell is Bucky? circling his heart, in printing so precise it barely looked human.

Steve hated them.)

- Tori

#hazelbunny1 #answered #found #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #au #soulmates #stucky soulmates #winter soldier compliant #angst #angstwithahappyending

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whinlatter · 20 days

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Hi! Just wanting to say I adore Beasts. Well- I adore all your fics that I have been making my way through, but Beasts has just been marinating in my brain quite happily lately! I enjoy how you don’t shy away from the complexities of what it would be like for our characters in post, pre, current, and then post again war time conditions.

I was wondering since you brought up the McGonagall vs Kingsley or more specifically Hogwarts vs Ministry and who is responsible for the youth or the abuse that said youth experienced- how would that impact the canonical abuse/neglect Harry experienced both at the Dursleys but also the fact that he had an attempt on his life every year he was at hogwarts. I have always wondered in that ever really coming to light- who would the public be saying should be held responsible? I know people in fandom tend to place all the blame neatly on Dumbledore (which I personally disagree with) but how about the ministry? Child services?

Would his abuse by the Dursleys cause an upturn in anti muggle sentiment? I remember in the fourth book when Hermione was receiving hate mail in regards to her “hurting” Harry she had people simultaneously supporting Harry for stopping Voldemort but also being wildly blood supremacist towards her in the same breath. I could imagine for Kingsley, trying to face a wildly anti muggle status quo culture, if it got out the nature of Harry’s relationship with his muggle relatives people might actually riot.

Along with the “telling each other things” part of their relationship and Harry realizing how he needs to be better at providing more emotional support for Ginny and how much support Ginny already provides for him- if the nature of his abuse or even mentioning the cupboard ever came out how that could potentially shift things. The fact that we never know for certain if Harry ever even TOLD anyone about the cupboard in canon actually blows my mind

thank you so much for this interesting question, anon, and for reading beasts and and enjoying it and having a good ol think about it (every fic author's dream, having your story camp out for a bit in someone else's head - makes me beam). have tried to answer said interesting question - on what harry’s friends, family and a wizarding public would make of his time at the dursleys, and broader wizarding cultural ideas about child welfare and protection - below!

TW: generalised, non-specific references to child abuse and neglect

your question is interesting because it raises the question both of wizarding perceptions of muggle child-rearing and norms in wizarding society about the idea of child protection. i've written a bit before about how i tend to think about harry's abuse at the hands of the dursleys, which to try and put it in context as a literary trope in a particular genre (eg. the dursleys as roald dahl-esque pantomime anti-orphan villains) that the series outgrows and then tries to sidestep dealing with. harry's abuse at the dursleys is one of the most glaring examples of the series' tonal shifts and muddy, dissatisfactory space between genre conventions: a series that begins with harry as a matilda-esque figure dealing with pantomime cartoonish child-hating baddies and by the end is busy heavily implying the fact of egregious, gruesome violence against children (ariana dumbledore, for instance). morfin gaunt's violence against his daughter merope, as depicted in HBP, is absolutely not supposed to be farcical quaint slapstick, and as such it jars with the way harry's relationship with the dursleys is depicted early on in the series, which is a much more light-hearted story of ten years of dodging frying pans wielded by baffoonish, ridiculous cariactures of suburban english tories.

the dursleys exist for the young reader to jeer at and immediately hate rather than be taken seriously as portraits of child abusers. that somewhat colours how i personally tend to approach writing about harry's views of his upbringing - eg. don't spend too long trying to make the dursley plot consistent because the author certainly didn't.

i also tend to take cues from how harry the character canonically seems to reflect on and process his upbringing (ie. he recognises it was abuse, but he also recognises he didn't deserve it, and while he is certainly shaped and affected by it, he is not singularly traumatised by it, particularly relative to all of his other terrible teenage experiences). i think harry isn’t hiding the dursleys’ treatment of him from his friends. but nor is he talking about it all the time. as of book 2 the weasleys have decided his treatment is horrific and worthy of a jailbreak, which doesn't suggest they're all in the dark about it ('they were starving him, mum!') - i think they follow his cues on how much he wants to talk about it and have filled in the blanks well enough.

what a broader wizarding public would make of harry's treatment by the dursleys if they knew about it is tricker to think through, and asks us to read between the lines of the text re wizards' expectations/understanding of child welfare and children's protection, and how they might collide with wizards' varying attitudes to muggle culture, which range from polite fascination all the way to wanting to slaughter muggles en masse and hunt them down for sport.

(here's miss trunchbull from matilda, fulfilling genre conventions as only she can, also demonstrating what is likely a popular wizarding pastime: yeeting children).

on the one hand, there doesn't seem to be any kind of child protective services in the wizarding world or responsibility on the part of the state for child welfare. when it comes to children’s health and wellbeing, the wizarding state is hands off and happy about it. a few examples:

bob ogden's visit to the gaunts, for instance, ends in arrests, but seemingly not for child abuse - morfin and marvolo go to jail for attacking muggles and ministry employees, not for abusing merope, suggesting at a minimum there isn't much appetite for prosecuting child abuse or, in an unlikely but still possible reading, there are no express laws against abusing children in the wizarding world under which marvolo and morfin could have been charged.

muriel is critical of the dumbledore family's treatment of ariana ('though to take it to the extreme of actually imprisoning a little girl in the house and pretending she didn’t exist - '), but in the same breath also reveals that ariana was never examined or treated by any healer working at st mungo's, suggesting a distinct lack of scrutiny over children's health and wellbeing.

filch, longstanding school caretaker kept on under dumbledore (who, for all fandom’s ire at him, is a progressive among wizards on all sorts of things including on education and child welfare), frequently expresses a desire to 'whip students raw' and string them up by their ankles. the day umbridge tells filch she's going to sign an approval for whipping is clearly the happiest of his life, and filch exits the text having been outdone as a child abuser only by the carrows (eg. the two who literally encourage child on child torture), which is saying something. mcgonagall calls him a 'fool' (what are you like, argus!) and then lets him supervise the evacuation from the castle. just caretaker things!

does this mean witches and wizards don’t care about child abuse? i don’t want to say a flat no to that. as the muriel point on ariana suggests, even old-fashioned wizarding elders seem to think there is a right and a wrong way to care for children, and believe there are lines that can be crossed in terms of what’s fair and right to do to children under your care. umbridge cites a concern for the vulnerable children of hogwarts in making her case for more ministry interference at hogwarts, a case that makes her popular with many in the wizarding public, which implies some cultural sense of children as innocents who need to be protected. at the same time, though, we also see even progressive witches and wizards use corporeal punishment (the weasleys smack their children for particularly severe transgressions, as many middle class british families did well up to the millennium), and poor neville gets dangled out of a sodding window and his family are supposed to be kind of goodies. as we’re also told in canon witches and wizards are hardier and more durable physically than muggles, we also might expect that may shape wizarding attitudes to what you can do to a child in punishment without lasting damage or moral qualm. so it seems that wizards do have a cultural understanding of child abuse, even if they’re a bit hazy (or more forgiving) in what counts as abusive.

but. the example you mention - a wizarding public who are happy to hate harry but also happy to ride to his defence if they think a muggleborn tart has wronged him because of their kneejerk blood supremacy - is a really good one. canon is clear that hypocrisy is wizarding's britain's bread and butter. so i can absolutely see a right-wing commentariat doing what right-wing commentariats love to do most, which is selectively care about imagined or real violence against children only when it suits their political agenda. given the wizarding press canonically implies dumbledore has sinister intentions with harry potter the troubled youth (nonce allegations abound), i don’t think it would be a surprise if an anti-dumbledore camp seized on knowledge of harry’s experiences at the dursleys as proof of dumbledore’s hypocrisy, cruelty and dishonour.

as you mentioned ginny i will indulge myself and say a few remaining words about our girl. the question of how ginny would think about harry’s upbringing, and specifically what she would make of dumbledore leaving harry to the dursleys’ neglect for the greater good, is - i’m afraid - very interesting to me. ginny lives out ‘for the greater good’ in her war in lots of different ways; for one, she has to accept the likely prospect of harry’s death because of it. now, we know ginny names her son after albus dumbledore. i don’t think this is an act of charity, but a statement of how she and harry come to think of dumbledore and the sacrifices his plan demanded of them and others around them — ie. ultimately, they accept and support them, even if they acknowledge the terrible cost incurred. it’s not a particularly popular view in fandom at the minute, because (understandably and not entirely wrongly) audiences now see the surrendering of a very young child to abusive parents as part of a broader political and military strategy as perverse. that’s a changing-cultural-tastes-genre-trope issue as much as anything. but any of our revulsion at the idea is not how these characters - or even a wizarding public en masse - would necessarily would come to think of dumbledore’s decision to leave harry at the dursleys. (thinking of sirius’ very sad, very important line from OotP here: that ‘there are things worth dying for’).

#meta #tw: child neglect #wizarding world #wizarding politics #albus dumbledore #thank you anon

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witchinatree · 1 month

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magnus protocol episode 26 ramble

the academic victim era continues. i like putting my lil personal bits at the beginning of these i think it humanizes me

ok. i have to pause mid intro song. i just hit my bowl of snap pea crisps and spilled them everywhere and i'm going to tweak

3 of them fell on the floor.. but they're kinda expensive so we don't get to have them very often.. is it worth it..

i ate them i don't care

this has become more about me than the episode i'm gonna unpause it now

we're so back

celia at work core!! she dgaf!!!

MEET HELEN. pls don't be a tory in this universe pls pls pls pls. i didn't fw human helen at all i am less excited than i was about basira but also basira was one of my all time favs forever

hiii aliceeee <333

magnusing is so me tbh if you think about it

so does alice's voice have a slight hint of that effect they use for chester and norris to anyone else or.. like she sounds computer-y and i don't know if it's just the microphone or something real

"take protection" "jesus christ!" "LIKE A BIG KNIFE OR SOMETHING" CRYING. see my mind didn't go there sam so what's up with that sam huh sam

the hell does celia have in her workbag wtf. queen what. it's the trauma "are you sure that thing is legal?" LMFAOOOOOO

ok i don't like you saying nauseas because i'm on TWO medications that make me nauseas and i just ate pls don't be gross

DAMN. i was gonna be like JARED? HOPWORTH? but it's jared 'smith.' gerard jared is kind of like michael

P.E. teachers creep me out but probably because the only one my high school has ever officially had got fired my freshman year for spanking girls in the locker room and they never actually replaced him they just had various sports coaches take over

yea this is freaking me out already i don't like it

oh that's so sad the dad fucking died poor kid omg

wtf was he possessed by the soul of cross country. what is the horror here. ohh running for his life ok thanks

oh so the horror isn't mr jared it's what happens to him i guess. sorry man i shouldn't have called you creepy

this is just how my friends describe morning cross country practice

yeah so i was right to quit cross country in 5th grade then!!! running IS the horror!!!!

NOT THE TAPE RECORDER WTFFFFF IS THIS ERROR. ANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN ARCHIVIST.............................................................................................................................................................................................

AT A LOSS AT A LOSS AT A LOSS AT AT AT. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT

we were right guyss it's an archivist...

IT SAID ARCHIVIST ALICE YES LOCK IN QUEEN LOCK IN SHE'S SOOOOOOOO HEHEHE SHE'S SO SMART I'M IN LOVE WITH U

yes alice connect those dots!!! connect them babe!!!!! i'm scared though to be honest with you

SHE DOESN'T THINK SHE KNOWS DUMBASS. PLEASE LISTEN TO HER OR I'M WRITING ANOTHER HATE POST ABOUT YOU. oh thank you sam i don't hate you

HOW I WOULD'VE EXPECTED HOW I WOULD'VE EXPECTED hey helen

has celia shut down. oh my god she sounds really scared. probably because helen tried to eat her in another universe.

CELIA'S SO SCARED HONEYYYYYYY. wait now she's bringing up the magnus institute LMAOO

bloody big basement lmao it's where they keep the bodies

at least 20 years? it burned down 20 years ago? who's reaching out after it burned what

HELEN'S LAUGH MADE ME JUMP LMFAOOOOO HELP

SAM MEETING JACK???? SAM MEETING JACK??????? THEY'RE SO CUTE WTF OMG ur baby's a tory HAHA

celia you are being watched honeyyy you are you need to connect some dots. alice style. obsessed with her.

calling her baby goblin after that baby episode that celia was mentioned by name in hello. hello.

ok sam let's go no longer being as selfish thanks sam.

awe that's adorable i actually think he's been really nice lately holy shit.

LMAOOO WHY DID WE GET AN AUDIBLE KISS ON EPISODE 26 I THOUGHT THEY DIDN'T LIKE THOSE

#fen blogs tmagp #sam is climbing back up the liked list #i never hated him but i was strongly disliking him for a while #he was cute today though #also alice ilysm #gwen ilysm #i just love women guys #the magnus protocol #tmagp #magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 26

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okaeri-ossan · 2 months

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I've been under the weather so I randomly picked up this Alice Soft visual novel called Diabolique. The company is a legend in the industry as is known for creating the (much praised and maligned) Rance series. I haven't played that but I have played Toushin Toshi and Mamatoto, both of which I enjoyed quite a bit. However, I've been really surprised by Diabolique so far...

Diabolique is a pure love story about a demon-ish kinkiller guy named Azulite falling in love with a very punished little girl named Leticia. Tragedy befalls them, and the immortal Azulite travels the land in search of Leticia's reincarnations with the goal of making her happy throughout all her lifetimes.

I was seriously surprised by how pure it all is. There were some lines in Toushin Toushi that made me go "awww" and I assume that's thanks to the writer Tori, who has had her in hand on Alice Soft since the start. There's lots of tooth-rottingly sweet sentiments, like "I'll chase all the bad things in your nighmares away" or "even if you won't speak to me, I'll watch over you so you're happy". They're the kind of straight-forward precious words that I always fall victim to. TOO KYUUUUUUTE! It gives the work a feeling not dissimilar to... joseimuke? But there's a bunch of monster r*pe sometimes too. But also there's cute stuff. So yeah, too kyute LOL

The most moe character isn't any of the heroines, though (even if Leticia and Aria are very adorable). It's the immortal demon protagonist, killer of his own kind. Azulite is the gentlest, sweetest man I have no clue how he ended up in an H-game.

When I said the game was pure love, I meant it. This man is too pure. He starts off the game wandering through the desert alone all badass-like before stopping to talk to flowers ("aren't flowers and humans the same?"). He's timid in front of people and painfully polite, always bowing and saying excuse me, tripping over his words when he's flustered (which is often). He has a genuine deep care for the heroine, promising to protect her from the painful things in her life. It's a promise so strong he follows her into her next lives. It's okay if she falls in love with someone else, as long as she's happy and safe. He tries to do all the domestic chores (FRILLY APRON TIME!), he gets up early to cook for her, he draws her a hot bath if she needs it, and most of all he watches over her when she sleeps so she won't get nightmares. In that case, isn't he like a guardian angel? He's a demon who hates himself and prays to God because he wants to be good, but I think he ended up acting like a real angel. Leticia, the poor heroine who experiences endless tragedy throughout her many lives, will always be loved where ever she goes. I still have yet to finish it but I want them to be happy in the end. And if they can't have a happy ending, then I hope he will continue following Leticia through her many lifetimes...

It's not a game I would recommend for various reasons-- the painfully outdated system, the menu functions that break the pacing in areas, the previously mentioned r*pe that pops up-- but it's got so much wholesomeness (I know that sounds silly after what I've just said) I can't stop reading. Sometimes, you need some sugar sweetness in a brutal world. Sometimes... malewife (╯▽╰ ) Okay time to go see if I can snag any doujinshis of the main couple they are mega totes adorbz KYAHHHH!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

#jvn #visual novel #diabolique #alice soft #alicesoft #azulite makewife of the century #my okaeri

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canonizzyhours · 4 months

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does anyone else worry that eventually con's going to disappoint the canyon enough that they'll turn on him? i've been really nervous about this for over a year now. we all get a little parasocial about our favorite celebrities, especially in the cast & crew of this show, but we all know the way the canyon is about con is not normal or healthy even by the standards of a really intense fandom like this one, and i've seen that kind of thing go bad before.

so far we've managed to dodge this. he's said stuff that contradicts interpretations the canyon's very invested in over and over again now - the "tory mp" thing, describing izzy as "full of hate and rage and obsessed with himself," the thing about how izzy's best friend would be satan, saying over and over again that he loved season 2 and loved izzy's death scene and he wants everybody to support david jenkins, insisting that ed and izzy have never canonically had sex ever - and so far what's happened every time is either he says something else in the same panel that the canyon likes enough they just focus on that and forget about the thing they didn't like, or they manage to torturously reinterpret what he said and convince themselves he's actually agreeing with them, or they insist that he was for some reason contractually obligated to say it and didn't really mean it. so maybe they'll just keep doing that forever. but if they don't...

it worries me because con seems like a very genuinely sweet man (and maybe the biggest gentlebeard shipper in the entire cast & crew). and it clearly means a lot to him that he's become a beloved icon to so many young queer people, the parasocial relationship goes a little bit both ways. but a parasocial fixation as intense as a lot of the canyon has for him can just suddenly reverse the polarity while maintaining the same intensity level when people feel like the object of their affections has betrayed them. and i hate thinking what that would be like for him.

#397.

#ofmd #con o'neill #fandom critical #izzy hands #canonizzyhours

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 10 months

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@ckhalloween23 heyyyyyy bestie(s) I know I'm an entire-ass month late, BUT

HERE'S A PREVIEW OF THE ELIMETRI DARKFIC I PROMISED

Listen, y'all can't give me a "Serial Killers" prompt and the opportunity to write the dark, unhinged Demetri Alexopoulos of my dreams presented on a silver platter and NOT expect me to go a little apeshit ^^;

Or. A lot apeshit. Because boy did I let this funny little comic relief guy SNAP ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Also, funnily enough, I realized over the course of the last year or so that I'm probably autistic? For the longest time I held off on writing Hawk's POV because I hc him as autistic and I didn't think I could do him justice, but...I've unlocked this Fun Secret Collector's Item now, I guess XD Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz POV acquired!

Decided to give it a stab here, since him having NO fucking idea how to react to Crazy Demetri was just too much fun. Hawk came to me surprisingly easy once I got started, actually??? I mean I've always related to him a lot but I had no idea it was like. An autism thing. I thought it was just an ND thing akisudhlkuhyfu

Head's up to Tory and Robby stans...this may not be the fic for you. You have been warned 👀

CW for blood, violence, knife-threatening, light knifeplay, toxic relationships (although YMMV), mentions of murder, implied slut-shaming, homophobic slurs, and sexual subtext.

Fic under the cut! As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request :3

***

Hawk’s on his 30th rep when he hears the front door.

He stops mid-jab, the punching bag rattling on its chain as it sways back and forth. Scoffing, he rolls his eyes.

His mom must be home early. How fucking annoying.

He was looking forward to having the house to himself. With his father on a weekend-long business trip and his mother at her Friday night wine hangout, he was finally going to catch up on training without any interruptions.

The last thing he needs is to be outdone by Kyler Park and Robby Fucking Keene.

Hopefully his mom won’t come knocking, pestering him to watch movies or some other frivolous crap. He doesn’t have time for that anymore.

Strange. There’s a notable lack of the jingling and clattering that usually comes from 50 million things being shifted through an oversize purse. Hawk pauses, listening for any noise.

Maybe he imagined it.

“What the hell.” He takes a sip of the Red Bull on his bedside. Some sleep-deprived delirium or whatever it was wasn’t going to fuck up his focus.

Sure, he’s been averaging 5 hours a night, but who gives a shit? It’s not like anyone in high school actually gets enough sleep.

Sensei Kreese said in ‘Nam, they had to be ready to fight on a moment’s notice—geared to slaughter enemies after a mere 30 minutes’ rest in 48 hours. Hawk doesn’t strive for anything less.

The stairs creak.

His mom isn’t usually one for sneaking past his room, but perhaps she’s too tired to be chatty. He thanks the powers that be this seems to be the case, and returns to his reps.

Jab, cross, roundhouse. Jab, cross, roundhouse. Elbow. Knee to the chest.

He counts them out as he goes, power surging through him. Sensei will be sorry he started singing Keene’s praises when Hawk’s a better fighter than that piece of shit ever was.

Because throwing someone off a balcony when they had their guard down was a coward’s move. Typical Miyagi Do bullshit.

God, Hawk hates them. Hypocrites. Losers. Pussies.

He thinks of a new insult every time he lands a punch.

Miguel’s fucking insane for not appreciating what Cobra Kai did to get payback. What Hawk did to get payback.

His fists are starting to ache, fingers burning from being smashed against rubber again and again. Hawk doesn’t care.

Sensei would say the pain makes him stronger.

Jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross—

“You know, at some point, I think you’re as good as you’re going to get at punching.”

A shadow blocks the hallway light.

Dread grips him in frosty talons. His arms still, the punching bag swinging back and smacking his chest.

He gasps, stumbling back. Still, he refuses to look at the doorway.

Refuses to let Demetri see his shock.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

He presses as much venom into the words as possible. Enough intimidation, and Demetri will back down.

He knows now that Hawk is as real a threat as he ever was. And Demetri’s smart enough not to keep poking at a tiger that’s already mauled him.

“In what world would I not remember where you keep your spare keys?” Demetri sneers.

Well. Maybe that’s a bit generous.

“What do you want?”

Hawk keeps his tone steely, hoping he can kill whatever plans are swimming around his ex-best-friend’s head before they even form. In all likelihood, Demetri’s here to be a nuisance at best and a night-ruiner at worst.

Fucking Demetri. He’s always been such a distraction.

Hawk needs to get rid of those.

He thought he did. But Demetri is apparently either too stupid or too obsessed with the past to be properly scared away.

Irritating, but admittedly also interesting. It shows a kind of boldness that he wouldn’t expect Demetri, of all people, to have.

“Maybe I want to check in on my best friend.” Groaning footfalls as Demetri starts to slowly cross Hawk’s room. “I see you avoiding me at school. And you didn’t even bother to show when your little friends crashed Sam’s party. Perhaps I want to see how you are, hmmmm?”

And try as he might, Hawk can’t pick up the usual sarcastic edge to Demetri’s tone. He frowns at his far wall, confused.

There’s something odd in Demetri’s voice, and Hawk can’t for the life of him pick up what it is.

He still refuses to look at his oldest friend. He’s not going to give him the satisfaction of undivided attention.

Demetri is a pest, and should be treated as such.

“We’re not best friends,” Hawk says tightly, landing another punch on his bag. “Whatever we were? It’s done. Has been for a long time. Why can’t you get that?”

He finally graces Demetri with a look. He’s expecting the usual sullen look—scrunched brow, open mouth, widened eyes. Like he’s eternally surprised Hawk doesn’t need him anymore.

A look where maybe, if he prods it farther, Demetri will storm off. Or run off crying. Be out of Hawk’s sight.

Be somewhere where Hawk doesn’t have to think about that night at Golf N Stuff. Or how it felt to watch Demetri writhe on the floor. Or the streams of vomit that ripped from Hawk’s stomach as soon as he got home.

Or what he did to himself in the wee hours of the morning, when no one—not his mother, not Cobra Kai, not Sensei Kreese—was around to see.

But when Hawk glances over now, Demetri is smiling.

Not a contemptuous sneer, or a pained grimace. A full-on grin, splitting his cheeks and stretching much wider than the situation calls for.

Hawk inhales sharply.

Demetri shakes his head, laughing. “It’s almost endearing, you know. What a tryhard you are.”

He squares his jaw, refusing to budge as Demetri advances on him. “I thought I made it pretty clear what I think about you. You want another reminder?”

Hawk balls his fists, trying not to think about how hard the words are to force out. How hard he’s working to keep the iron shell he’s built around himself intact.

A strange smell hovers around Demetri. Acrid and metallic, like he’s spent too much time mucking around inside one of those computers he’s so besotted with.

“How revoltingly naïve.” Green eyes burn into him like acid, the glint behind them unlike anything he’s ever seen. “You thought you’d break my arm once and be done with me?

Hawk finds himself backing away.

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you, Hawk.”

Something in the way Demetri spits his new name finally gives him clarity.

“So what the fuck do you want from me?” he spits. “Why did you come here?”

“I came here because you were right. About everything.”

Any response is snatched from Hawk’s mouth.

For several seconds, all he can do is stare. Demetri smirks, apparently reveling in getting a leg up.

Hawk is so confused that he can’t even find it in himself to be angry. A strangled “what?” is all that comes out, pulling a snigger from his adversary.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out. Becoming the scariest fighter in the Valley. Making everyone quiver at the sight of you. Doing whatever you like because people aren’t brave enough to tell you no. Becoming your badass karate teacher’s little golden child. Getting rid of your weaknesses. Getting rid of me. But there’s one thing you got wrong.”

Typical Demetri. Monologuing around the point.

But Hawk is, nonetheless, finding his confusion turning to intrigue.

The mopey kicked puppy routine had gotten unbearably tedious. At least Demetri finally has the decency to give Hawk some variety.

“Oh, yeah?” He curls his lip. “What’s that?”

Demetri casually leans on Hawk’s dresser, like this is nothing more than a Friday night video game session.

“You think I avoid fights because I’m scared. But that’s not true anymore.” And there’s that grin again—that wide, unnerving grin that looks like it was pasted on from another human being’s face. The sort of manic look that would never in a thousand years belong on Demetri Alexopoulos.

“I avoid fights because I know who’s worth fighting. And who’s worth hurting.”

Well, that’s new.

Hawk narrows his eyes, trying to piece together if this is all some kind of trick.

“See, Eli, you were right that the world isn’t kind to people who get too soft.” Demetri starts sauntering over again, and that odd, metallic smell strengthens. “Or losers. Or weaklings. Or people who admit defeat. Give in too easily. Run off cowering and scared. So I’m shaking all that off. Next time I fight, I won’t lose.”

As Hawk pieces everything together, he scowls.

“So that’s what you want?” he hisses. “A rematch? Like you’d stand a chance.”

“So touchy. Do you only think of people in terms of whether you can beat them in a fight now? Boooooring.”

Demetri clicks his tongue disapprovingly. It’s a mocking gesture he’s been doing since they were little, but now something about it feels chilling.

Hawk’s back bumps his bedroom wall. Demetri’s closing in on him.

Fucking hell—he’s getting fed up with this cat-and-mouse. Why is he even entertaining this stupid nerd again?

It’s not like he gives a shit about him anymore. Then he wouldn’t snap his arm in half.

“Fuck off, Demetri!” he roars. “I fucking hate you. I don’t give a shit about anything you have to say! Get the hell out of my house, or I swear to god I’ll break your arm again.”

He fills the words with fire and force and poison, hoping something will hurt Demetri enough to make him go.

He can’t cave again. Not after he’s worked this hard to oust Demetri and everything he represents from his life.

Not after he’s severed Demetri’s bone with his own hands and smiled with his friends about it.

That should’ve been the last straw. That should’ve been what sent Demetri running for good, abandoning everything they’d once had to save himself.

But it didn’t. It fucking didn’t.

Demetri takes another step into his space, curling his lip. “You’re full of shit.”

“Fuck you.” Eli returns his stare, baring his teeth. “How are you so sure?”

“Because you hesitated.”

Hawk goes rigid.

“I begged you to stop.” Demetri’s hands slide onto the wall on either side of him, trapping him. “And you thought about it. You didn’t break my arm until all your psychotic teammates goaded you on. If you really hated me?” His voice drops to a breathy whisper. “You wouldn’t have even thought twice.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Demetri snickers.

“Poor little Eli. You’ve always sucked at arguing when you get backed into a corner.”

“I still broke it,” Hawk growls. “You know I can do it. Easily. So how are you stupid enough that you’re still fucking with me? You some kind of masochist?”

“You still care about me, Eli.” They’re inches apart now, Demetri leering over Hawk. “You never got over me not wanting to join your little club of sociopaths. Whenever there’s a rumble, you can’t stay away from me. And you want to know what I think?”

“Shut up.”

Demetri’s voice is husky in Hawk’s ear. “You wouldn’t hurt me when there’s no one to show off to.”

Hawk’s done with this.

He lunges, shoving Demetri’s chest and flying at him with an outstretched fist. He waits for that gratifying moment of shock—the familiar shift in Demetri’s features as he realizes yet again Hawk has no intention of going easy on him.

Demetri doesn’t even blink as he moves out of the way.

Hawk course-corrects, swiveling and diving for Demetri again. He throws the fastest punch he can manage straight at Demetri’s jaw.

Why the hell won’t he give up?

Demetri’s fantastic at giving up. He always has been. He gave up on standing up to bullies and he gave up on Cobra Kai and he gave up on Sensei Kreese.

So why won’t he give up on Hawk?

Demetri doesn’t dodge this time. He only swerves, allowing the fist to graze his chin.

He lets out a hiss of pain—angry, but not surprised.

Without warning, Demetri’s hands shoot up. Hawk freezes as long fingers snake across the skin of his arm.

The next second he’s screaming, Demetri’s hands twisting until his skin burns. The other boy’s grip tightens, thrusting him toward the floor.

He’s stealing my fucking moves again.

And frustratingly, he can do them fast. Hawk barely manages to use his other arm to shove Demetri off, stumbling back.

Even one moment of disorientation is too long. Demetri charges again, teeth bared like a wild animal.

One arm slams him against his bedroom wall while the other digs into his chest, squeezing the air out of him. And Hawk hates to admit it, but Demetri’s training-broadened shoulders have a terrifying amount of power behind them.

Nothing he can’t handle. Hawk’s taken on bigger opponents before.

He squirms in Demetri’s grip, his own arms loosening enough for his hands to make a grab for the taller boy’s throat. Then Demetri’s pinning hand is gone, slipping in and out of his jacket in what feels like less than a heartbeat.

Something cold and sharp presses Hawk’s throat. His hands drop, tensing against the wall.

“What the fuck…?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Eli.” Demetri tilts his head, pouting mockingly. “But you make it so damn hard to talk to you. Can’t do a thing without you coming at me like some kind of rabid coyote.”

“So you pull a…are you fucking insane?”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Red Hulk Rage Issues.” The pout morphs into a smirk. “Clearly, you’re not above playing dirty, using that sad little Eli voice of yours to get out of trouble. Figured it was time I caught up.”

Hawk feels something sticky dripping down his neck. His breath hitches in his throat.

He aims a hit at Demetri’s stomach. The taller boy bends with it, and the blade presses harder.

“Oh, come now.” Demetri tuts disapprovingly. “Don’t make me slit your throat.”

Hawk hardens his expression, channeling everything in him into hiding the shock.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t think you’re in a great place to test that.”

And he’s right. Hawk hates it, but he’s right.

This isn’t the Demetri he knows better than the back of his hand. The Demetri he knows so uncomfortably well that he convinced himself over and over and over that it meant he was sick of the fucking geek.

This isn’t grounded, rational, sensible Demetri. Something’s snipped his threads, made him start fraying at the edges.

He’s unraveling, floating in an ether where the pragmatic and the path of least resistance that he made his life philosophy are losing their appeal. He’s…

Well, it seems he’s done some script-flipping of his own. Decided—perhaps on a whim—to overhaul everything Hawk knew and replace it with something cold and alien and completely fucking unpredictable.

Was this how Demetri felt, that day Hawk showed up at school with spiked hair and a conniving sneer? Is this some kind of payback?

He doesn’t care if this new boy with a knife to his throat killed and gutted the friend he grew up with. It doesn’t matter anymore. That relationship only ever got in the way, anyhow.

He truly could not care less. Honest.

The only emotion he feels is annoyance that this new opponent will be harder to match, with erratic moves and a quickly-thinning conscience.

This Demetri isn’t pulling any punches. One stupid or sloppy move, and Hawk will be on the floor gurgling his life out.

He’s never taken Demetri for someone impulsive, but perhaps he just had a talent for controlling his most brutal and primal urges—for his own safety, if nothing else. Perhaps he’s lost this ability.

Hawk wonders what it says about him that he isn’t bothered by this at all. If anything, he finds the whole concept exhilarating.

Fighting Demetri had gotten so boring. Now, at last, they’re on equal footing.

Regardless, there could be a trace of the Old Demetri yet. He might be able to use that.

“Put the fucking knife away or I’ll call the cops,” Hawk snarls. “Think you’ll get into Stanford with a police report on your permanent record? Or whatever fucking nerd school you’re trying to—”

“With what phone?” Demetri interrupts. “The one you left on the coffee table downstairs so it won’t distract you from wailing on your stupid bag?”

Fuck. How did Demetri even notice shit like that?

Hawk tries not to let the dismay show.

“When my mom gets home, she’ll—”

“Mommy’s not coming for you, Eli.” Demetri’s smirk widens. “Mommy’s getting drunk with all her friends to forget her unfulfilled suburban picket fence life with her nasty, violent delinquent of a son. And Mommy’s going to crash at Michelle Galinski’s house, just like she has every Friday night for the past 10 years. And oh dear…Daddy’s out of town on his top-of-the-month business trip? Looks like no one’s coming to save you.”

Fuck that. He can save himself.

Hawk makes a grab for Demetri’s wrist, other hand clawing at the arm compressing his chest. Demetri seamlessly lifts the elbow of his knife-holding arm and jabs the bony appendage into Hawk’s skin.

The knife blade doesn’t even falter, pressing more firmly into Hawk’s neck. A sting, and he feels something warm trickle toward his chest.

The scent from earlier intensifies, and Hawk realizes abruptly that it must have been blood.

“Mmmm-mmmm.” Demetri purses his lips and shakes his head, like he’s scolding a disobedient child. “It’ll make it much easier for both of us if you don’t act up. I really don’t want to cut your throat, but I will.”

As Demetri sneers down at him, Hawk realizes too late that he couldn’t cover his alarm.

“What? Don’t think I’d actually hurt you?”

The taller boy fiddles with the knife, sending little pricks of pain rippling through Hawk’s neck.

“I guess you know how it feels now,” he purrs.

Hawk spits in Demetri’s face, sudden fury overtaking him.

This pathetic nerd’s not going to make him feel bad now. Not after everything he’s done to crush the part of himself that possibly could feel bad.

“Fuck you.”

And slowly, never once breaking his gaze, Demetri licks Hawk’s saliva off his chin. The dim hallway light just catches the moisture on his face.

“Keep it in your pants, Moskowitz. We’re not there yet.”

Now Demetri’s definitely fucking with him.

It’s growing tiresome. Nonetheless, he doesn’t want that cut in his neck getting any wider.

There’s something distinctly unnerving about the way Demetri’s eyes are boring into him, sizing him up with a kind of cold contempt. Looking at him like he’s nothing more than some ugly insect to crush under his shoe.

It’s the sort of callousness that Hawk has never once—not in the entire time he’s known Demetri—been the target of.

And maybe he’ll admit it. He dislikes it for more than just the fact it throws him off.

Demetri is spiraling into someone unrecognizable, and the sheer foreignness of the whole process makes Hawk shudder.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hawk’s voice is small and weak. Like Eli’s.

He doesn’t care.

His entire sense of reality—every absolute, irrefutable truth he’s ever attached to himself and his life and his oldest friend—is uprooting and spinning out of control, and it’s not like anything fucking matters anymore.

Demetri laughs—a sharp, hollow sound devoid of any real humor.

“Like you’re one to talk. I know what you did to Brucks.”

Hawk’s blood freezes.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Demetri’s knife slides from the cut on Hawk’s neck, beginning to tease the underside of his chin. “Mitch told us what happened. And I damn well noticed when Brucks stopped showing up to school. Nice of your war criminal sensei to help you cover that up.”

Hawk’s breath comes in quick, short gasps.

Of course Demetri put two and two together. Of course he’d gone snooping so he could find something else to hang over Hawk’s head.

And the fall of that knife might be worse than the one currently tickling his jaw.

Part of him hates it. Hates being reminded of that day and hates being reminded what he’s capable of. Hates remembering the sight of a living, breathing person crumpling to the floor, and realizing they would never get up again.

But Hawk isn’t stupid. If anyone can play Demetri’s games, it’s the person who knows him better than anyone in the world.

“Demetri.” He keeps his tone as calm and non-abrasive as he can. “Who else’s blood is on your knife?”

Because it was still wet when Demetri shoved it up against him. And Demetri’s a moron if he thinks Hawk missed that.

“Ah. And we finally get to that.” Demetri chuckles, gently tracing Hawk’s jawline with the honed edge. “You see…the difference between you and me, Eli, is that I don’t need anyone’s help to hide my bodies.”

His heart drops to his feet.

“What did you do?”

“Not any worse than you.” Demetri cocks his head. “I hurt someone who deserved it.”

“Demetri.” Hawk steels his voice. “What did you do?”

Because whatever it was, Hawk sure as hell needs to take the proper precautions to make certain he isn’t next.

“Stopped at the convenience store on the way over here.” Demetri follows the knife with his eyes as he talks, expression almost affectionate. “Ran into one of Kyler’s old buddies from the wrestling team. One of the kids who used to call us fags, remember? He thought it would be fun to shove me around. So I pretended I was running my ass away, and got him to chase me somewhere a little more…private.”

Hawk gapes at him.

“Did you really…?”

“Shanked the asshole like a pig. He was so surprised he didn’t even fight back. And let me tell you, it was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

And there’s that laugh again—the broken, disjointed chortles that feel so jarringly out-of-place. Green eyes shining with a frenetic light that makes Hawk’s hands grow slick with sweat.

Demetri leans in again, knife held steady as his lips brush Hawk’s ear.

“I know how it feels, you know. I know what it is to get so angry that you don’t even know what your body’s doing until it’s too late. Watch the life fade out of another human being’s eyes. Realize you like it. Sit there panicking about being some kind of inhuman monster and then suddenly realizing you don’t fucking care. And I suppose…I suppose that’s another reason you were right. There is a certain freedom in embracing that the world is cruel and cutthroat and unforgiving. In finally unmuzzling the wild animal thrashing around inside you and letting it hunt the way it was always meant to.”

Hawk shudders.

Sensei Kreese promised no one would ever find out about Brucks. Staged some kind of car accident or binge-drinking tragedy or drug OD or some other way stupid teenagers die all the time. Kyler was barred from the funeral, with Kreese worried (probably reasonably) that the dumbass would let something slip.

Kreese told the class that if anyone snitched, he’d be more than willing to look the other way as they met the same fate as Brucks.

Hawk hated how much he enjoyed it. He hated how after the deed was done, he couldn’t find a scrap of guilt in his psyche. It made him feel detached from himself—the abstract idea that doing that to another person was bad, but the complete lack of any emotions to back it up.

But that’s who he is now. No going back, he supposes.

Perhaps, on some level, he figured Demetri would pick up on this and leave him alone. Decide that Hawk’s path was too dark and too dangerous for his pasty basement nerd tastes, and stay huddled away with the Miyagi Dos singing kumbaya.

That would probably be best for him, anyways. Hawk still doesn’t know what other horrific shit he has it in him to do, especially when his victim pleaded so hard for mercy that would never come. When Brucks’ fruitless begging gave him an unmistakable rush.

And yet here Demetri is, claiming he was in a similar position. Claiming he lost control.

It isn’t that Demetri can’t put on an act if he needs to. But on some level, Hawk’s always been able to tell when his best friend is exaggerating or embellishing to make a story more interesting. There’s a kind of snarky undertone he uses, always giving that he isn’t completely serious. Subtle, but easy to pick up if you’re familiar with it.

There’s none of that here. If anything, this is the kind of emotional vulnerability Demetri never displays intentionally.

Until now, apparently.

Hawk bites his lip. “You’re not lying, are you?”

“You’re so cute.” The tip of the knife jabs into the underside of Hawk’s chin. “You thought I was some…what? Some sissy little do-gooder? The pinnacle of morality and mercy and all great virtues? No, no.” He giggles. “I’ve always been as fucked up as you. I only managed to keep it buried longer.”

Hawk scowls, suddenly remembering exactly who he’s talking to.

“Give me a fucking break. You joined the pussy-ass ‘defense only’ karate dojo. Your entire philosophy is about being sissy little do-gooders. Like you’d have the balls to pull even half the shit Cobra Kai—”

The knife flies back to the wound in his throat, Demetri using his arm to ram Hawk harder into the wall.

“You think I ever gave a flying fuck about Miyagi-Do?” he spits. “You think I’m some slavering pet like you, tripping over my little lapdog paws to appease my sensei’s every command? You think these asinine karate wars ever mattered to me? No.” He shoves his face into Hawk’s, blood on his breath. “You’re the one so obsessed with following orders that you can’t even remember who you were before you became some demented old man’s attack dog. You’re the one so drunk on loyalty to a fucking karate dojo that you can’t see none of this shit matters.”

Hawk bares his teeth, hoping with everything he has that Demetri won’t notice him shaking.

“Easy for you to say, when you pussied out after one punch in the face,” he sneered. “Of course you want to believe all of this is pointless when you’re on the losing team. But I’m not like you, Demetri. I’m no quitter.”

“Oh, how admirable.” The knife presses a little harder. “Tell me then, Hawk. How’s being on the same team as Kyler? As fucking Robby Keene? You excited for the chance to help them hurt Miguel again?”

Red-hot rage rips through Hawk. He lifts a leg and knees Demetri’s shin as hard as he can.

Demetri barely even winces. His other foot kicks up, ramming the side of Hawk’s knee. Hawk scrambles for balance, heart pounding as he just avoids falling into the knifepoint.

“Thought that’d hit a nerve.”

“Fuck you!” Hawk spits. “Keene was from your fucking dojo! You fought with him, too!”

“Not since he hurt Miguel.”

Demetri’s voice is frigid, rivaling the most biting winter rains. Every inch of him drips with a venomous hatred that Hawk has never seen before.

Not directed at him. Not directed at anyone.

“And now he’s in your dojo. Funny how that works.” Demetri clicks his tongue. “Guess your roaring rampage of revenge was all for naught.”

“It wasn’t.” Hawk curls his lip. “You were all responsible, and we got our paypack. It’s not our fault Miguel wasn’t grateful.”

“Ooooh, gotta love the Hawk’s impeccable logic! ‘Ah, yes, I think I will terrorize everyone in this dojo except for the person who actually almost killed my friend, who I will agree to team up with for some reason!’” Demetri returns his sneer. “Are you really such an obedient little bitch that you do whatever your precious sensei tells you? Even when you damn well know it makes no sense? You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

“Park and Keene know their place,” Hawk hisses. “They know I’m the alpha. They answer to me.”

Demetri cocks his head, looking amused.

“Even if I were to believe that. Do you like sharing a class with those assholes? Do you like knowing that if one of them were to get their ass handed to them by a Miyagi-Do or an Eagle Fang—by Miguel—that you’d be expected to rescue them?”

“I’d do it.” Hawk grits his teeth. “I wouldn’t like it, but I’d fucking do it. Sensei Kreese gave Sensei Lawrence and the others a chance to join back up with Cobra Kai, and they said no. Miguel chose his side.”

Demetri sighs, expression almost pitying.

“I guess ‘Cobra Kai for life’ trumps a Cobra’s desire to beat another Cobra into the damn ground. Kind of a shame. I think you’d enjoy hurting them.”

What Demetri said earlier circles back into his mind.

I avoid fights because I know who’s worth hurting.

Hawk straightens, keeping his composure.

“Sensei says we need all the allies we can get,” he says. “Even if we don’t like them. I’m putting up with Kyler and Robby long enough to win the tournament, and that’s it. Then I’ll find some way to weed them out.”

“I doubt it.” Demetri smiles down at him. If it weren’t for the knife, Hawk would punch his teeth in. “Contrary to how you act, I know you’re a smart guy. If you knew how to get rid of them, you would have already. No, Eli…” His voice drops to a purr. “You’re stuck with them, aren’t you?”

Hawk feels sick.

Leave it to Demetri to pinpoint his deepest fears—a karate clan filled with the worst people Hawk knew. Not a single friend to speak of, and a sensei with constantly divided attention.

Even Tory was turning out to be a fucking snake in the grass. She certainly took to the boy who nearly killed her ex with not an ounce of guilt.

And yet she believed with all of her being that Demetri deserved a broken arm for what Robby Keene did. That he was a pussy for crying out in pain. Actions didn’t matter to her—only the name branded across the merchandise you wore and the color of your gi at tournaments.

For the first time, the thought makes Hawk seethe.

All this time she’d seemed nothing but tough and fearless, but all she was was a shallow bitch who cared more about rank and status than a damn thing you actually did.

She was always going to hate Sam LaRusso for being rich and popular. She was always going to hate Miyagi Do for its association with LaRusso. But the second Keene bailed? Put on a belt with a cobra on it and showed off his snake-snatching skills?

She couldn’t wait to get on his dick. The filthy slut.

And suddenly Hawk realizes that he hates her, too. He hates so many of the people who are supposed to be his allies. But he can’t afford to think like that. And most of all, he can’t afford to let Demetri see it.

He glowers up at his ex-best-friend, keeping his gaze stony. “And why do you care? You have your posse of Miyagi losers to pal around with. Why do you give a shit what I do? Just go home to your little—”

“I left Miyagi-Do!”

The words come out in a forceful scream that practically knocks Hawk even further into the wall.

The sheer disdain in Demetri’s eyes for the group he had so cozily assimilated into sends Hawk reeling. He’d never—not in this lifetime or the next—expect Demetri to toss the whole lot of them out like garbage.

Demetri breaks into another grin, reveling in Hawk’s stunned silence.

“See, that’s another difference between you and I, Eli. I don’t need some washed-out old man telling me what to believe and how to fight. I can think for myself. And frankly, I got sick of the ‘safety in numbers’ business when it seemed ‘the numbers’ were always the ones who got to pick my enemies for me. And no one—” His eyes burn into Hawk. “No one decides that but me. I hurt who I like when I like, and I’ll fucking gut anyone who gets in my way.”

Hawk exhales slowly, keeping his scowl pulled tight.

“So…what?” Hawk sneers. “You’re going to fight Cobra Kai by yourself now? That’s so fucking stupid.”

“Not all of them. Some of your class are just brainwashed idiots who don’t know what they’re doing.” He sighs, shaking his head. “And you, Eli…well, I think you’ve lost sight of who your true enemy is. I was hoping I could help.”

“You really bounced?” Hawk narrows his eyes, still trying to make sense of everything. “After everything, you…just up and left?”

It can’t be that easy. He knows it wouldn’t be in Cobra Kai.

“Yeah.” Demetri shrugs. “And now I have way more time for important things.”

“I don’t get it.” Hawk’s frown deepens. “Why would you strike off on your own? Did something happen?”

“You happened.”

Short. Simple. Concise.

Completely baffling.

Not that that was anything new today.

Maybe it’s Hawk’s imagination, but the knife loosens a little.

“Don’t you get it?” For the first time all night, something like genuine anguish prods through Demetri’s voice. “I meant what I said. I never gave a rat’s ass about the karate wars, or the stupid dojo feuds. All I ever wanted was to be worth your fucking time again.”

All Hawk can do is stare.

It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any fucking sense.

“And sure,” Demetri concedes after a moment. “At first, I wanted to do right by Mr. LaRusso. By Sam. They were the ones who taught me. Toughened me up into something worthwhile. Worked with all the shit you thought was a lost cause. But it was always a means to an end to stay relevant to you. Then after what happened with Moon, I genuinely thought the Miyagi-Do philosophy would help you. But I learned soon enough that you were in too deep for appealing to the Old Eli to work. No, I had to speak to you in your own language.”

He licks his lips as the knife starts to slide up Hawk’s neck again, dancing over the bottom of his chin and onto the plump skin of his lips.

“Aggression. Violence. Dominance.” He chuckles. “Wasn’t my go-to, but if it got your attention, I could make it work. And I guess I did, huh? I riled you up enough that you couldn’t leave me alone.”

“You wanted to piss me off?”

“If that’s what it took to keep you coming back for more.” And there it is again—that wide, sadistic grin that feels so brutally wrong. “You can leave me, Eli. You can disown me. You can shit on everything we had and make my life a living hell. But you can’t bring yourself to just ignore me. Because you’re so weak that you can’t bear to refuse the bait when I press your buttons. Because as much as you claim to hate me, you can’t move on from me.”

“And now you ditch your team to…what? Fight me on your own?” Hawk matches Demetri’s grin with one of his own. “I’d wreck you. And deep down, you know it.”

“So presumptuous.” Demetri shakes his head, tutting. “Frankly, I came here tonight because I’m sick of fighting you.”

“Says the one with a knife to my throat.”

“That’s because you don’t fucking listen without me having to resort to extreme measures,” Demetri hisses. “I think we’re a lot closer to being on the same page than you think. And maybe if you dropped this whole tribalism bullshit, you’d see that.”

So Demetri wants a truce. Hawk should have known.

He’s not surprised. But the way they arrived here?

Now that’s a twist.

It’s still an insane concept. Like he’s supposed to let his greatest enemy off the hook. Let Demetri get away with all the ways he’s undermined him and humiliated him and put the Old Eli—the weak, pathetic nerd Eli—on blast for all the world to see.

But if Demetri really left Miyagi Do…

Hawk finds himself wondering how much of his rage against the Miyagi Dos is his own, and how much is Sensei Kreese’s. And if Demetri’s truly deserted “the enemy,” does Hawk still have to hate him?

Does he even want to?

Demetri isn’t that pathetic, sniveling dweeb anymore. He’s crushed his old self as brutally as Hawk has.

Because the Demetri Hawk has known all his life could scarcely bring himself to cook with sharp knives, let alone use one to threaten another human being’s life.

Or take one.

But despite everything, something still doesn’t add up.

“I heard about your little rousing speech,” Hawk says. “About how important it was for Miyagi Do and Eagle Fang to unite against the ‘biggest assholes in the Valley.’ And now you’ve abandoned both of them. Was that all just a load of crap, then?”

Demetri is unfazed.

“Call me naïve, but I thought if Miguel and I were on the same team, you’d finally see some damn sense. You’d hurt me, sure. I’ve known that for a while. But I never thought you’d touch the kid you went on a vengeance quest for.” He shrugs. “Color me surprised when you wrote him off as just another enemy.”

“I told you.” Hawk works his fingers against the wall again, uneasiness trickling over his skin. “Miguel chose his side.”

“Be that as it may. I figured if you were so far gone that you were ready to wail on literally every person you used to be friends with, I needed to adjust my strategy.”

“For what?”

“For getting through to you. For getting you to tell the truth.”

And Hawk doesn’t want to think for too long about what truth Demetri has in mind.

“So you pull out a fucking knife.”

“Mhm.” Demetri snickers. “That’s how you communicate, yeah? Threats and intimidation?”

Hawk clenches his jaw. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Is that so.” The arm suddenly lifts from squeezing Hawk’s chest, long fingers seizing his wrist. He’s too surprised to pry them away.

He really should be expecting this kind of insane bullshit by now.

“Your pulse is going haywire, Eli,” Demetri murmurs. “Either you’re a liar, or something else has you energized. I wonder what that could be?”

It’s then Hawk’s mind fully catches up to its surroundings.

He rips his wrist away, pivoting away from the knife and sending a knee into Demetri’s ribs. The knife tip slices his cheek, but so be it. He’s endured worse.

Demetri gasps, stumbling back. Hawk makes a grab for the knife.

The taller boy is still too quick. He holds the weapon out of reach, using his other arm to thrust Hawk’s body back.

Before Demetri can do anything else, Hawk squats down and sweeps his leg. With a grunt, his opponent stumbles to the floor.

Something seizes Hawk’s ankles as he stands. He cries out as he’s yanked backward with surprising force, landing on the floor next to Demetri.

Hawk scrambles for the bed, trying to writhe out of Demetri’s grip and hoist himself up by the covers.

It’ll be over when I have the high ground.

What a stupid reference to think about.

It reminds him of the kind of game he and Demetri might have once played. Whoever made it onto the bed would get to be Obi-Wan, and whoever stayed on the floor would have to be Anakin, drowning in lava.

The idea leaves him feeling strange.

Demetri doesn’t let go, snarling like a hyena as he tries to tug Hawk back. The knife teases his skin, an imminent threat if he makes any moves too sudden.

He’d kick the annoying asshole away from him, but he doesn’t want the sole of his foot sliced open. If he can’t walk, he can’t fight.

Suddenly, Demetri cries out, grip loosening. In Hawk’s struggles, he must’ve rammed into a sensitive spot. He yanks himself free, scrambling onto the bed and frantically trying to plan his next move.

He realizes his mistake a half-second too late.

Demetri, gleefully bluffing, rises to his full height. Smirking, he pounces like a jaguar.

He lands heavily on Hawk’s stomach, slamming him against the bed. The back of his head smacks against the headboard, filling his vision with stars.

He barely has time to let out a pained gasp before Demetri’s knees are digging into his quadriceps, pinning him again. Growling, he aims a punch at Demetri’s throat.

His fist meets its target, pulling a strangled gasp. Hawk clasps his arms around Demetri’s torso, trying to thrust him off the bed.

For a moment they struggle, yanking and shoving wildly in an attempt to gain an advantage. Then Hawk feels long arms wrap around his back, bony fingers clutching at his throat.

The tingling pain of blade against skin, and Hawk realizes Demetri kept hold of his knife.

Whenever I think he’s finally going to drop that damned thing…

The knife jabs into him, strengthening its grip until he’s pressed flat on his back. At last Demetri loosens his grip, sizing up his victim with a satisfied beam.

Hawk squirms, bed creaking as he does his best to jostle Demetri off. The other boy holds fast, gazing down at him with a pitying look.

The blade digs in again, and Hawk’s struggles weaken.

“Come now. How many times do we have to go over this?”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“I don’t believe I was finished.”

Demetri tilts his head to the side, breaking into another crazed grin that sends dread trickling straight down to Hawk’s bones.

“Shut up Demetri.”

“I see you staring at me. All this time, and all these girls you tried so hard to fuck, and everything always comes back to your stupid middle school infatuation.”

“SHUT UP!”

Hawk squeezes his eyes shut, trying to bleach Demetri’s cold, smug expression from his mind.

“Right after you had your Bar Mitzvah, you asked me to kiss you. You figured since I already had mine, we were both adults now. And adults do grown-up things like kissing.”

“STOP IT!”

And suddenly Hawk is screaming at the top of his lungs because he knows where this is going. Because they were just stupid kids, and that can’t mean anything.

“I said of course I would, because I’d always liked you, Eli.” Demetri’s voice only grows louder—more insistent. “And I go in to give you a peck, and you grab my arms and stick your entire tongue in my mouth.”

“Shut the fuck up, Demetri!”

He feels something wet dribbling down his face, and wonders if the cut on his cheek got stretched wider in his and Demetri’s scuffle. It’s certainly stinging enough for it.

Unless…

Hawk wishes he could dissolve.

“I told you I’d kiss you a thousand more times if you wanted.” Demetri’s voice has grown sharper than his blade. “And I would have. And for a long while, I thought there might be the most infinitesimal possibility that you felt something, too. Now I know I was right.”

He laughs, the sound acrid and bitter and full of flint.

“Because even after everything, you’re still obsessed with me. You watch me across the lunchroom and pretend you’re ‘monitoring the enemy,’ but I know you miss me. You miss when I made you laugh, and you miss when I talked to people so you didn’t have to. You chase me around in every battle, but when it comes right down to it, you can’t hurt me in any significant way until you’re bullied into it. You pick fights with me so you can put your hands all over my body and not have anyone look at you askance for it.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Maybe if he screams loud enough, Demetri won’t pay too much attention to the wet trails smearing the blood from his cuts.

Caustic breath is hovering inches above Hawk, misting onto his lips. Still, he refuses to open his eyes.

“It must be exhausting, you know,” Demetri whispers. “Living your life in denial like that. Wearing your entire personality like some cheap Halloween costume and convincing yourself that’s a fulfilling existence. Don’t you want to be free?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Hawk growls. “I do whatever I like. It’s not my fault you don’t like who I really am.”

“Who you really are, hmmm?” Demetri’s lips brush his earlobe, voice a barely-audible murmur. “So tell me the truth then, Eli. Do you still want me?”

The bluntness of the question almost blows a hole in his composure.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Stop fucking lying!”

All at once, Demetri’s voice is a deafening, furious scream again. The knife slices Hawk’s jaw.

Not enough to do any real harm, but enough to really hurt. Hawk freezes, held prisoner by the burst of sharp, sudden pain.

“It’s always lies, lies, lies with you,” Demetri snarls. “Fake name. Fake hair color. Fake personality. Fake interests. Fake friends who only kiss the ground you walk on because they’ve never seen you at your weakest. Fake relationships with girls you barely let know you—to the point you think they’d leave you for liking to code. And the absolute drivel you feed yourself that this goddamn farce is what you want to live in forever. You think you’re starring in some martial arts epic, and you’re so wrapped up in your stupid method acting that you never want to step offscreen. Like everyone’s on the edge of their seat about your pitiful life like it’s the fucking Truman Show. And at the end of the day? You’re still too much of a pussy to tell me the truth.”

Hawk’s skin tingles, shivers rippling through him. If his heart was pounding before, it’s thundering now.

Somehow it doesn’t feel like fear. He’s used to this new version of Demetri enough not to cower from him.

No, it’s something far worse. And Demetri knows it.

“You can’t hide from me.” The other boy’s tone drips with haughtiness, savoring the ability to confirm Hawk’s worst fears. “I see right through your bullshit. I always have. So I’ll ask you one more time. Do you want me?”

The knife slides down to Hawk’s throat again, pressing firmly.

“Lie and I’ll kill you.”

He’s probably bluffing. Maybe. Surely.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter anymore. Sprawled out on his childhood bed, underneath the only other person he frequently shared it with.

The person he used to watch sleep, wondering wistfully if the freak with the lip scar ever made it into his best friend’s dreams.

He opens his eyes and finally meets Demetri’s gaze, in all of its searing, insurmountable beauty.

“Yeah.”

He breathes it out quiet and fragile—a soft promise. A rare moment of openness that he lets free of his unbreakable shell.

Demetri drops the knife. It falls behind the bed, thumping onto the carpet below.

He swoops down, seizing Hawk’s neck and yanking him up. When their mouths meet, Hawk is nearly thrown back with the force of it.

Demetri kisses like a starved animal, lapping and nipping in a crazed frenzy. The weight of his muscle-toned body is crushing, locking Hawk firmly against the mattress.

He tastes like blood and cold steel and cruelty. Hawk shudders.

This time, he’s certain it isn’t fear. It’s a rush he only thought he could get from smashing his fists against plastic or skin, or feeling another person’s body go limp and lifeless underneath his.

And it’s ironic. The more Demetri tries to devour Hawk, the more Hawk wants to let it happen.

There’s an odd satisfaction to it, he thinks. Being completely at someone else’s mercy.

And Demetri isn’t fighting with any.

***

OKAY, time for some #authorrants because I feel like some of the choices I made in this fic are. Controversial, to say the least. Lmao.

So something that has bugged the crap out of me for a while now is people in this fandom acting like there is any world where Demetri would choose Robby over Miguel. I remember after S3 dropped, there was a lot of "dId tHeY fOrGeT tHe dEmEtRi-rObBy FrIeNdShIp" type sentiment floating around irt why Demetri didn't stay in contact with Robby the way Sam and the LaRussos did. Maybe it's because, I don't know, Robby threw the guy Demetri never actually stopped being close friends with over a balcony and almost killed him???

Like. Not that these showrunners don't ever forget things, but this absolutely is not one of them. Robby paralyzing Miguel is a BEYOND valid reason to sever ties with him, especially when you were just casual dojo bros for a couple months tops. When push came to shove, Demetri pretty unequivocally CHOSE MIGUEL. He brought him a comic book in the hospital! He was thrilled to see him back at school and picked up their friendship right where it left off! He DOES NOT VISIBLY FORGIVE ROBBY UNTIL MIGUEL DOES! Idk idk it just really riles me when people do not take Demetri and Miguel's friendship into account when discussing the Demetri-Robby relationship and why they stopped being friends when they did. Tbh I don't think it's that hot of a take to assume Demetri would have more loyalty to the guy who befriended him when he was a nobody and proceeded to be one of his closest ride-or-die friends for a whole-ass year over the guy he was casual buds with because they happened to share a karate instructor -_____- I could go on about this for several more paragraphs, but that's a rant for another day.

(As far as the LaRussos go, they were all closer to Robby and were basically his adoptive family, which is why they--particularly Sam--were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say the Miguel thing was an accident. Demetri didn't know Robby well enough to make that call, and had no actual proof it WAS an accident except for maybe Sam's word.)

Some other things to ramble about:

I remember in some interview a while back (I think with Martin Kove?) someone asked about Hawk and Marty or whoever was being interviewed said he was "on his way to being a serial killer" or smth. And Jacob's talked a little bit about the kind of escalating delinquent shit Hawk would get up to if he was never redeemed, etc. So going with that: Bold of y'all to assume the kid simping for Hawk since episode 1 wouldn't renounce his morals and join him on the path to villainy. Sorry but I truly believe Demetri's horniness for Hawk can and would win out over any ethical qualms in the end. Also Demetri is horny for violence and evil this is canon otherwise he would in fact not have simped for S3 Hawk so PAINFULLY BADLY god bless

Also this was partly inspired by those post-S3 jokes that were like "lol what happened to Brucks??? Did Hawk kill him???"...well, what if he did, tho? O_____O

Disclaimer that I promise I do not endorse the Tory slut-shaming!!! Tbh I didn't really wanna write it, but...I think given the circumstances, Hawk WOULD be pretty furious at her for getting chummy with Robby and "betraying" Miguel. And unfortunately, since he's a teenage boy with (canonical!) misogynistic tendencies...I do think that would most likely come across as slut-shaming D: But y'all have brains y'all know I don't condone everything I write about aknhdksuyhf (Murder is probably not something you should try at home either btw)

Hopefully I didn't make Hawk too weaksauce in this ^^; My excuses are a) I suck at writing fight scenes and tend to just want to get to the psychosexual dialogue and knife-teasing, so. If I rushed anything to get there I apologize. b) Going by the school fight, Hawk is indeed thrown off when Demetri takes the offensive (especially in a super dramatic kind of way) and his confused pause is in fact enough time for Demetri to get an advantage and c) The man is thrown off his game!!! Thrown off his groove, even!!! His sissy pussy nerd ex-friend shows up acting like a disturbed maniac and he is so O_____o about it that his moves are off!!! He's sucking a little but it's not his fault 💔It's Demetri's for subverting expectations 💔

I also feel like if Demetri started McFucking Losing It and was generally less grounded in the physical and rational world, physical pain wouldn't register quite as much. Like he's in his head enough now that he's kinda lost his grip on reality and things happening in the physical world don't seem as relevant or immediate, if that makes any sense? Also idk. Maybe after the arm break his pain tolerance just went up :O Anyways that's why he recovers pretty fast when Hawk DOES land a hit. Demetri is nuts now 💙

I will die on my hill that Demetri like. Really REALLY isn't as morally upstanding as people like to think XD Like I say this with love but from the top he's been a self-interested little shit who just happens to be extremely loyal to the very small handful of people he actually likes. My dudes, he didn't join Miyagi Do because he liked their philosophy better--he joined because they were less on board with punching him in particular in the face XD This dude saw Cobra Kai being fucks and playing dirty at the AVT and he STILL up and says "I wanna come back because I like the 'safety in numbers' aspect of joining a gang" XD I always got the vibe the "well at least I'm not an asshole LIKE YOU" he throws at Eli later is more because he likes to feel self-righteous. I say all of this as his biggest fan btw. I think more people should embrace the self-interested king he is and write about him and Eli being absolute dicks together instead of to each other 💖

I guess that's what I'm here for!!!

Anyways I think Demetri and Eli have the same potential to be absolutely horrific people, and I think we're all very lucky that Demetri was too lazy to challenge his comfort zone and stick with Cobra Kai XD We're very fortunate he happened to end up using his speed and his brains to help his friends who happened to be on the Good Guy Side rather than his friends who happened to be on the Bad Guy Side.

I also think people put WAY too much stock in Demetri's ability to staunchly stick with the good guys and have enough of a moral backbone to just keep opposing Eli's douchebaggery indefinitely. My mans is NOT that much of a saint, trust. From how quickly he forgave Eli for a HUGE number of atrocities, he seemed to be like. Waiting on his ass for Eli to come back to him. And if Eli never did???

I mean. Bruh. Someone you've been deeply in love with for years throws you out like last night's trash and just progressively starts being more and more awful to you??? You think it's feasible for my boy Demetri to stay strong and sane and reasonable forever, and just keep on fighting the good fight??? HELL NO. This dude is either a) quitting karate and moving schools so he doesn't have to deal with constantly being pummeled by the dude he's in love with or b) going completely fucking insane from the cognitive dissonance of being in love with a dude who constantly beats his ass.

Listen. I have been in love. If my friend who I was in love with turned evil and joined an evil karate school and started wailing on me all the time, I would either pull an Aisha and haul ass out of there or I would simply lose my mind and become evil. Go full Jinx from Arcane. Sorry if you're a hater who doesn't think Demetri Alexopoulos has it in him to go apeshit, but you're wrong and also boring. The funny kooky comic relief guys are always one thread away from losing their shit because everyone assumes because they're funny and kooky they have no depth and no end to their bullshit tolerance. I would know because I am one of these Guys in real life. Put some respecc on my boy's name and also give him another knife 🔪

For anyone looking at me askance like "Demetri doesn't have it in him to kill!" Yes he does. I'm sending him over to your house to stab you right now 🩵

No fr tho, like there was MURDER in this man's eyes when Kyler was bullying Eli in the library. There was MURDER in this man's eyes fighting Robby at the AVT in S4. I have full confidence that if he could get away with stabbing his enemies, he would. So would Eli but I feel like this is a less contested opinion.

Also this is interesting so it's something I might go into detail about in another post, but one thing I noticed while kinda brainstorming how Demetri would snap is that Demetri is loyal to people, while Eli is loyal to concepts and ideas.

Demetri I don't think is actually that married to or slavish about MD principles tbh. Demetri isn't really averse to violence conceptually (even back in S1 it's only ever about him disliking BEING hit, not disliking hitting people!!) and doesn't actually do the defense-only thing that often. Several times we see him instigate with Hawk, or help Sam instigate with CK in general. The times we see him stick his neck out to really help Miyagi Do, he seems like he's doing so more out of loyalty to his friends (namely Sam, Chris, and Nate--also Miguel irt the dojo team-up at the end of S3) than loyalty to Miyagi Do as a dojo.

Eli, meanwhile, is way more loyal to concepts he puts a lot of stock in than the people in his life who challenge this. He sees Cobra Kai as this almighty saving grace that is for LIFE, and he doesn't think twice about ditching Demetri and Miguel when they turn their backs on it. He stays in this dojo even as his friends leave and it fills up with people he hates, and his sensei dismisses and ignores his concerns. Because this dojo saved him from his horrible, bullied life, and now he feels like he owes everything to the Cobra Kai name, despite who's actually behind the name. Also why I think Demetri uses "my karate dojo needs your help!" as the selling point to get Eli to join MD in S4. HIS motivation is probably much more that he just wants him and Eli to stay together, but he knows Eli values dojo loyalty above everything, so Dem kinda makes it more about that than friendship.

Anyways! That's all for now! The whole fic should be up on my AO3 sometime in December :3

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