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holllandtrash · 1 year ago

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gone | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 3 to fragile line)

I just know You're not gone You can't be gone

The 2023 season is painful, its challenging and Daniel is still very much in your life in all the ways he shouldn't be.

word count: 9.9k (i dont even know how) warnings/tags: angst, heartbreak, all the painful stuff

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

You exhaled a breath that made your entire body shake, “You know what, Daniel.”

Of course he did. For the last few months, he was experiencing the exact same things you were. The uncertainty, the tension, the sleepless nights, god you were so tired.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be you and him. You were supposed to be a team.

So much went wrong, too much. Daniel stood in front of you now as you asked yourself if you were too far gone.

And you both knew the answer to that one.

That first race back in Hungary…you were a mess. You probably would have been a little bit more put together had Oliver not pointed out the lineup for the driver’s press conference.

“You’re kidding,” your jaw dropped, staring at the list. “Who’s smart idea was it to put myself and Daniel together?”

“This is Formula 1,” Oliver sounded apologetic, he did feel bad about the situation. “The FIA doesn’t care if he’s your ex.”

The FIA didn’t care but the entire world watching did. Speculations on what would happen, where you would sit, what would be asked flooded social media.

When you showed up on Thursday, Lando patted your back and told you to breathe.

“Easier said than done, Lando. I don’t see you being forced to sit with your ex.”

He chuckled at that because you had a point. “Look, I love Danny, but don’t let him get to you, alright?”

Originally, Lando did try to switch the sessions. He talked to Zak, PR, everyone, just because he knew how much you were dreading it. But alas, it was you who was now standing outside the media room, leaning against the wall as you waited to go in and get these next twenty minutes over and done with.

Your plan was to just say as little as possible to everyone. You were banking on the fact that the attention would be solely on Daniel and his return, and that was made clear when he walked into the hallway, getting warm greetings from other drivers and those standing nearby.

He had absolutely no reason to stand next to you, not when there were about ten other people who would have been dying for a few seconds of his time.

Daniel cleared his throat, hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall as well.

You counted six seconds before he opened his mouth, speaking to you for the first time since the awards dinner months ago.

“Not even a hello?” He asked, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised that you were completely avoiding looking in his direction. You ignored him and Daniel laughed to himself at your lack of response.

The door opened again and you took a breath of relief when you realised you were about to be called into the press conference. Just get it over and done with.

Daniel didn’t have the same priorities and spoke up again, “I just want to know-”

You promptly cut him off, you had to. “Look I think it would be best if we just-” god this hurt, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Let’s just not talk, okay?”

You pushed yourself away from the wall when one of the media assistants handed each of you a mic and gave you the thumbs up that it was time for the five of you to head out onto the couch. Daniel quickly followed behind you, voice low enough that you could hear but it was unlikely anyone else could.

“So that’s it? You have nothing to say to me?” He asked. “For the person who got you into Formula 1?”

You as well spoke in a harsh whisper, “You may have fast tracked my career but I could have made it to Formula 1 without your help.”

You liked to believe that was true. Was it? You’d never know now.

“But you did take my help,” he pointed out, a groan slipping past his lips as he sat down on the couch. You made sure to distance yourself from him, leaving room for Carlos to sit between you. Even still, Daniel wasn’t done. “You took my help, my resources and then my seat.”

“And what did you do?” You hissed, arms crossed over your chest as different media personnel started to slowly trickle into the room, the lucky ones who claimed the first row were probably close enough to hear you and Daniel.

“Pardon?” He turned his head towards you. Carlos instinctively leaned further back, not wanting to be in the middle of this conversation, but watching and listening intently, as were the other drivers.

“What did you do, hmm?” You repeated, eyes scanning the growing crowd before you snapped your head in his direction.

For a moment, this feud didn’t matter. Your heart skipped a beat, like it had the hundreds, thousands, of other times when his eyes met yours. The same brown eyes that for months you allowed yourself to get lost in. One look from him and everything around you faded to black. Nothing else seemed important when Daniel was looking at you, giving you his undivided attention.

But this moment wasn’t like all of those other ones.

You snapped out of it, returning to your original thought, much to Carlos’ dismay as he thought you guys were done and had started to relax in between you.

“We both replaced a driver before their contract was up, Daniel.” You stated, wanting to point out the hypocrisy in his actions. “You are no better than me. We did the exact same thing.”

“It wasn’t the same and you know it,” Daniel retorted, not skipping a beat. He had those words lined up for weeks now, waiting for the chance to say them because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to point out the similarities in your actions.

But Daniel was right. It wasn’t the same. The biggest difference being, you were in love with Daniel when you signed that contract with McLaren, and he was in love with you.

It wasn’t just a driver screwing over another driver. You drove a wedge between the two of you.

You had the thought to stand up and walk out. The press conference hadn’t officially started yet, the last few reporters were just finding their seats. You could say you’re ill, something came up, really any excuse to get out of here and away from Daniel’s harsh stare.

Don’t let him get to you. Lando’s reminder floated to the front of your mind and you forced yourself to just sit back and look at the small crowd instead. It was clear to everyone who even glanced your way that you did not want to be sitting there, but thankfully Tom Clarkson got the session up and running.

Of course Daniel was the star. Tom had questions about his return, about his short break, about being back with familiar faces. Daniel answered them all with such ease, the familiar heartwarming grin on his face that you couldn’t bear to look at.

You zoned out, really, arms crossed in front of your chest as you tried to ignore the double standards coming from your right. You doubted Daniel was going to get as much hate online as you had gotten. No one was asking him how he felt about taking another’s seat, everyone was just happy he was back.

“And Y/N, onto you-”

You snapped your head up, plastering on your best smile.

“Last year you finished quite high in Hungary in Formula 2 and after your best finish out in Silverstone, you must feel quite confident going into this weekend?”

You lifted the mic up to your lips, “Yes and no, you know the car’s upgrades are proving to be paying off and we’re hoping to use them to our advantage this weekend but one can never be too confident. As a team we’ll be fighting to be at the front again but in the back of our minds we know that everyone else is doing the same.”

Tom nodded, content with that answer, “And is it nice to have another familiar face on the grid? Daniel acted as a sort of mentor for you during your time in F2, did he not?”

You tensed up and next to you, Carlos felt it. He nudged his arm against yours, a subtle move of encouragement. Carlos, like most of the drivers, knew how uncomfortable the situation was for all involved.

But you couldn’t process the kind gesture. Not when you could practically feel Daniel staring at you, burning holes into the side of your head as he waited for your response.

“I think, yeah a lot of people are probably happy to welcome him back,” you spoke quietly, and not at all convincing. But hey, at least you removed yourself from the answer and gave a general response. One that no one could flip on you.

Tom tried, though, “But personally, what’s going through your mind right now?”

You had so much media training. You knew the proper answer would be something along the lines of how Daniel is a great asset to the sport and how the grid is better with him. Nothing personal, but just facts the general public could agree with. You knew what to say.

But you scoffed instead, “Why aren’t you asking the other drivers how they feel?”

Max spoke up from the opposite end of the couch, “It’s great having Daniel back.”

You shot him a quick, yet thankful, smile. While he was good friends with Daniel, anyone on that couch could see how that question was only given to you because of your history with the Australian. And this press conference was supposed to be about motorsport, about the racing coming up.

You stayed quiet for the rest of it and as soon as it ended you bolted out of that room.

Unfortunately, so did Daniel.

He caught up to you with ease, “Hold up, Y/N, I want to talk.”

Daniel reached for your arm and you pulled it out of his grasp as you turned around to face him, “I don’t think there’s anything left to say. No, you said plenty last year. What was it, exactly? Something about how taking your seat before your contract was even up was the worst thing I could have possibly done? I’m not going to sit there and listen to everyone praise you for coming back when you dragged my name through the dirt for the exact same fucking move. I’m not going to listen to a single thing you have to say, knowing you’re the biggest hypocrite this sport has ever seen but won’t admit it.”

Daniel huffed out a short breath. For a second, you thought he was going to apologise, but that thought quickly left when his forehead creased, his jaw tightening, “Sometimes you gotta burn a few bridges in this industry, but you figured that out all on your own, didn’t you?”

You shook your head, taking a few more steps backwards as heavy sarcasm dripped from your tongue, “Nice to have you back, Daniel.”

It really was anything but nice. Not when that entire race was focused on how you and Daniel interacted in the paddock- or the lack of interaction was probably a better way to phrase it. Everyone knew you two to be connected at the hip. Now you were turning around and walking in the opposite direction to avoid him.

The next race was worse. Spa. It was a challenging track already, you knew this going into the practice sessions. You were prepared for a difficult weekend.

What you weren’t prepared for was leaving the garage towards the end of Q1 to set a lap time, only to be blocked by Daniel before you could cross the finish line. He slowed down before the straight, like many drivers did before giving it all they had on their way to start a flying lap.

But Daniel didn’t speed up like you expected him to. He kept you behind him for as long as he could before shifting gears and taking off. When it was your turn to cross the line and get your time started, you heard the call come in from the garage.

“Times up,” your engineer, Ronnie, said through the radio. “You didn’t cross the line in time.”

Once that timer hit 0, no one was allowed to start a new lap. Every other driver made it across in time, but Daniel’s little move kept you from throwing your hat into the ring for Q2.

You embarrassingly made your way back around the track, pulling into the pit lane to park in the garage. It wasn’t long before other drivers followed, but they had all set lap times. Climbing out of the car, you noticed that Daniel didn’t make it through either.

Serves him right, you thought.

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your mind.

Right on time, you watched on the screen as Daniel dove into the pit lane. You ignored the calls from Ronnie and Oliver, not a single thought in your mind except to ask Daniel what his problem was.

Oliver knew what you were doing as soon as you stepped out of the garage. You ripped your helmet off and shoved it into his hands as he hurried to walk at your pace. Your eyes were set on the AlphaTauri garage just up ahead and you could hear Oliver warning you, telling you to just turn around and go back to McLaren but the second you saw Daniel get out of his car, you snapped.

��What the hell was that?” You asked, eyeing him up from where he stood at the garage opening.

Daniel wasn’t the least bit surprised to see you, but he did stand up straighter, already anticipating whatever you had to say to him.

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Your insult did little to offend him.

“It's not my fault you left the garage late,” Daniel shrugged, taking no responsibility for your inability to set a lap time.

“It’s completely your fault for slowing down more than necessary.”

“I didn’t want to run into traffic.”

“You fucked up my qualifying, Daniel.”

You felt Oliver’s hand on your shoulder. He wasn’t trying to pull you away, but the touch was to get your attention. Aside from AlphaTauri crew members watching this interaction, there was also a camera pointed directly at the two of you, streaming live to F1TV and whatever else broadcast that chose to air it.

Daniel wasn’t as concerned about his media appearance, stepping forward the slightest bit so you were only inches apart.

“If I were you, sweets, I wouldn’t be blaming your problems on the person who got you into this sport.”

You were so close to losing it on him for that comment. You probably would have, had he not thrown in his old nickname for you. Only it wasn’t sweet anymore. There was a distaste on his tongue as he said it, you heard it. He only said it to throw you off, to remind you that he no longer cared for you the way he used to. He was using it against you now.

Daniel saw the way you froze, completely losing your train of thought and he used it to his advantage to walk away from this conversation. He was happy to get the last word in and all you could do was drop your head and walk as close to Oliver as humanly possible as you made your way back to McLaren.

The altercation was heavily split down the middle by all who watched. Some people agreed that Daniel slowed down purposely to keep you from crossing the line in time to start a lap. They also agreed that he should have owned up and apologised for it, saying that it wasn’t in his character to leave another driver so defeated after something that was clearly his fault.

Other people agreed that it was your fault for leaving the garage too late, taking Daniel’s side. They said that it wasn’t very mature of you to confront him like that, or to swear at him. It only added to the conversation of how women weren’t ready to have a place in Formula 1.

Your PR manager advised you to put out a statement about it, an apology. You ignored her advice. In your opinion, the only person who had to apologise was Daniel.

Of course he didn’t, though.

Which meant you didn’t apologise when after the summer, In Zandvoort, you braked a little early when Daniel was behind you. You played it off saying you anticipated the turn too early. Daniel happily complained about you in the media pen when he was forced into the grass and then ultimately the barrier, forcing his race to end early. Social media blew up, like usual, feeding into this childish feud.

That’s how it went for most all, of the races. It wasn’t as though you were purposely trying to ruin his weekends, nor was it his goal to ruin yours, but if you happened to be alongside each other during the race or near each other during qualifying, fans started to put their money on who would target who first.

You didn’t like that that was what your weekends turned into. It was one thing to want to know where the rest of the drivers were in comparison to you, but to be so focused on Daniel was taking it to the extreme.

But you were determined to prove you were a good driver without him, that you were a better driver than him. That taking that McLaren seat wasn’t a mistake and if anything, he should be regretting being so harsh on you. You wanted him to eat his words, and it helped your case that he was definitely struggling in the AlphaTauri.

You finished ahead of him a handful of times. You could try and convince yourself it was skill, but a determining factor really was how horrible Daniel’s car was. That was proven when you were struggling with an upgrade package in Singapore. Some analysts compared the pace of the McLaren to the AlphaTauri, and said that the upgrades were really more like downgrades.

When Daniel finished ahead of you, claiming sixth that race while you crossed the line in 17th, you were furious. You told the team that as a whole, you were much better than that. That the McLarens should not be finishing in the bottom five considering how successful you had been mid season.

Those closest to you knew what you meant. You shouldn’t be finishing behind Daniel.

Things weren’t perfect after that, despite going back to the old set up. You were back to fighting for points, but so was Daniel. And you hated it. You thought you could rely on the McLaren being better than the AlphaTauri, but you forgot to take into account that Daniel truly was one of the best drivers on the grid.

It got to the point where you and Ronnie had a code. If you finished ahead of him, on the radio, Ronnie would say way to go champ. If Daniel finished ahead of you and you weren’t already aware of it during the race, Ronnie would say there’s still work to be done.

Again, those closest to you knew how much it meant to beat Daniel.

You wanted to prove to him, and everyone but you wouldn’t lie to yourself it was mostly him, that you deserved that fucking seat. That you made the right choice by signing the contract, despite it meaning he was without a car for a few months. You shouldn’t have felt guilty for putting yourself first, your career first, if you were doing something great, which you were.

Plus, the better you did, the less of a reason Daniel had to judge you. How could he still be upset with you for taking that McLaren seat when you were doing what he couldn’t? Scoring in the high points, being consistent, for the most part. How could he say that taking his seat was the worst thing you could have done when ultimately, it would boil down to jealousy? Daniel struggled in that McLaren, and he assumed you would too. That wasn’t the case.

And deep down, even if you didn’t want to admit it, there was still a part of you that aimed to make Daniel proud. Even if you couldn’t get back to when you were each other's biggest fans, you hoped that he had moments when he looked at the driver standings and nodded to himself, smiling maybe, because even if you weren't on the best of terms, you were doing what he always knew you could do.

You had no idea, but moments like that did come for Daniel. They were far and few between, rarely caught on camera or at least, never brought to your attention. You had no way of knowing Daniel was leaving the AlphaTauri garage, conflicted about how he felt about your accomplishments. You were doing better than him, there was no denying that. He just chose not to admit it.

The only time that season where you knew he was proud was at COTA. One of his favourite races on the calendar.

You qualified well, P3. That hadn’t happened since Silverstone. The race itself didn’t produce anything too horrible, aside from a few drivers at the back of the grid collided early on and unfortunately Daniel was one of them, being forced to retire.

You, though, you were flying. Your biggest competition was Lando who had started P2, again, similar to Silverstone. For most of the race, your job was to defend Carlos who was aiming for that podium, wanting to take P3 from you.

Typically, you would have boxed first. That’s usually what happened to give Lando the advantage. And with Carlos most likely being on an undercut strategy, you expected the call to come in to box ahead of him.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, you watched Lando pull into the pit lane, giving you the automatic second place position. In your mirrors, you watched as Carlos pulled into the pits as well.

“What’s going on?” You asked Ronnie through the headset.

“Plan F.”

Plan F was one you joked about, but never actually executed. Plan Fight you and Lando called it, but both of you knew that you’d never actually be given the go ahead to fight it out for the podium positions, not wanting to risk damage to the cars.

“Plan F?” You repeated, the shock in your voice evident. That made for good content on F1 Twitter.

“Box this lap,” Ronnie instructed before going on to explain. “Carlos is struggling with his pace, we believe his main goal will be to defend.”

From what you knew, Lewis was behind him, and if Carlos was struggling with his pace he wouldn’t be fighting for a podium, he’d be fighting to keep that fourth place position.

Which meant you and Lando were also free to fight.

Pitting for new tyres dropped you back a bit, but it didn’t take long at all until you were right on Lando’s tail again. You stayed there for the majority of the last half of the race, the gap wavering anywhere between half of a second to three seconds behind.

You tried to pass, truly. But Lando’s defensive game had always been strong. You looked for the opportunities in the corners, along the straights, but it wasn’t until the third to last lap did the chance come.

You had closed the gap as much as you could, not needing to worry about whoever was behind you, you figured it was still Carlos. As you approached the back straight, you knew Lando was expecting you to dart to the left in an attempt for an overtake on the inside, you had tried it in five out of the last ten laps and each time you were still left eating his dust.

You veered slightly to the left, giving Lando the impression that was your goal and the second he made the move to defend, you steered the car to the right and gave it everything you had. It was a tricky move, vying for the outside overtake going into the tight corner, but when it seemed to work out, you had the inside line for the following turn and Lando was soon in your mirrors.

He tried to take that position back, but you took advantage of the clear air and set off, determined for your first podium, determined to finish ahead of Lando.

Lando ended up claiming third, crossing the finish line only a second after you did. After a victory lap, where he jokingly flipped you off, the two of you pulled into parc ferme. Immediately, you collapsed into Lando, arms tight around him because not only was this a success for you, but for the team. Both McLaren drivers on the podium for the first time this season.

Through the cheers, you could hear Lando yell something about making history. Whether that was in regards to both of you or the fact that you were the first female to ever podium in F1, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter anyway. You just knew you were proud.

You jumped into the arms of your team next, those standing behind the barrier. Adrenaline was pumping through you, you just wanted to celebrate with everyone. When you eventually took your helmet off, a few tears were streaming down your face and you didn’t even think about the risk of turning into the new George Russell crying meme.

You were shaking as you stood in the cool down room, too amped up to sit. Max had been through this dozens of times before. Nor was this Lando’s first podium either, but you were on top of the world.

The ceremony went by in a blur. As did the post race conference. You really did try to take in each second of it, thankful that Lando was there at your side the entire time. This entire process was new to you and if Lando wasn’t in your ear telling you to breathe, where to go, to enjoy the moment, you would have been a mess.

There was so much that happened following that race, there was no way you could have known what was going on with any of the other drivers. It wasn’t until you got back to your hotel room at the end of the day with instructions to ‘get changed because we’re going out’ from Lando, did you see what you had missed.

It felt like hours since you even looked at your phone. You had called your parents, but you didn’t have much time for anything else. Now that you were sat on the edge of your bed, you were able to scroll through your texts and notifications.

You were able to see the clip you were tagged in way too many times, on way too many platforms.

It was short, but any longer and you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You clicked play and watched the video of you crossing the finish line. Lando was following behind, but whatever broadcast this was from didn’t care about his finish. The shot switched to Daniel, from where he stood in the AlphaTauri garage.

Whoever was filming caught his live reaction of you coming second at COTA.

The nod, the faint curl of the corner of his lips because as much as he tried, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face as he watched you take your first podium position in F1, something that he once dreamed for you.

But you not being part of his dreams anymore didn’t mean that he stopped wishing you accomplished yours.

This brought you back to the first video you watched of him a few years back, before you even met him, where he spoke so highly of you. He wanted you to succeed so badly back then and he wanted to be at your side while you did so.

Now here you were, succeeding, but where was Daniel?

Maybe that’s where some of his hostility lied. You didn’t need him, clearly. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

The reality was, you wanted to prove you could do this without him, but you wished you didn’t have to.

You were conflicted, you both were. And it didn’t help that you weren’t speaking civilly to each other because my god a simple conversation would probably do wonders for both of you.

That was Lando’s thought, as he sat down next to you in the booth and handed you the glass of coke, no rum much to his dismay. You didn’t drink during the season, even if you had something to celebrate, Lando knew this. Champagne on the podium was the only exception.

Tonight, though, as you sat in your thoughts and replayed the image in your mind of Daniel smiling up at the screen, you figured that another exception wouldn’t hurt.

You turned down the coke and grabbed his drink instead, downing it in one gulp and instantly regretting it because you were fairly certain it was tequila based and tequila just wasn’t something you ever enjoyed. Lando laughed and handed you the coke to chase it down with.

“You’re letting loose tonight?” He asked, sitting down beside you. His arm stretched across the bench behind your shoulders. He didn’t even try stifling his chuckle as you struggled with the bitter taste left in your mouth.

“I need to,” you answered.

“You deserve to,” he corrected. Lando reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and then a sleek black card. He didn’t say anything to you, nor to the server who came by and knew that by him dropping the card on the table meant he was asking for bottle service.

It wasn’t long before you had a row of shots to split between the two of you and a few others who had crowded the booth, some you knew, some you didn’t. Not that it mattered, you just wanted to drink, you didn’t care who you were with.

Lando being there was a godsend, though. He knew that you were a lightweight and told you that the glass in your hand was a vodka soda when in reality he asked the server for you to just be given water after a few hours of the most carefree drinking he had ever witnessed from you.

The music was blaring, you had gotten up to dance at one point, but you kept finding your way back to the booth. Clubbing wasn’t your thing and Lando, whether he liked it or not, was an anchor for you tonight. He kept you safe, kept you from drowning in the sea of people and alcohol.

He could do a lot that night, but he couldn’t prevent the inevitable storm that was Daniel Ricciardo making an appearance at that Austin night club.

Lando saw him first and turned to you with the intention of suggesting that you both called it a night. But no words came out when he saw the painful look of desire and despair mashed together on your features as you spotted the Australian driver.

You didn’t drink often, but if you did, you would know that feelings are often elevated under the influence. You’d also know that alcohol lowers inhibition, giving you a false sense of security to say what was really on your mind.

“I don’t get it,” you spoke quietly and Lando leaned in closer to hear you over the music blasting from all corners.

“Get what?”

You pulled your gaze off of Daniel before you could accidentally make eye contact and looked at your teammate instead. He seemed concerned for you, he always did when Daniel was involved.

Lando always did what he could to get your mind off Daniel and the past. He was a good friend, a good person to have in your corner but he wasn’t who you wanted there at the end of the day. You had grown to love Lando, not in the way you loved Daniel, though, so you couldn’t deny that you wished it was the Aussie sitting next to you in the booth, celebrating your podium. You hated that you wanted that.

“Do you miss him, still?” Lando prompted, knowing you had lost your train of thought.

When you shook your head, Lando gave you a look that clearly showed he didn’t believe you, but it was true. You didn’t miss Daniel. What you felt was much worse.

“I don’t miss him,” you answered, glancing towards him again. He stood at the bar talking to a girl that you envied because at least she was talking to him. “But I think he’s my missing piece.”

You hadn’t felt whole since the day you and Daniel split. You walked out of his flat but you left a piece of you there, a piece you desperately tried to get back through race weekends and training and distractions but it was no use. It would always belong to Daniel and you feared he had no intention of giving it back. You feared, that no matter how much time had passed, you’d always feel a little incomplete.

You stood up to leave soon after, thanking Lando for the drinks and assuring him you’d send a text when you got back to the hotel.

Lando tried to follow you to the door, wanting to tell you that he would go with you, the concerned friend making another appearance, but before he could get a word out he watched as someone cut him off, also making a direct line towards the door of the club.

It took Lando a second to realise it was Daniel who was walking after you now. Lando just stood there and raised his hand to the back of his neck, asking himself if he had just made a mistake by not stopping Daniel.

When Lando asked the next morning if Daniel spoke to you, you gave him a questionable look, telling him that you didn’t talk to him at all. Lando explained that he had seen Daniel leave the club right after you, but you just shrugged, chalking it up to getting into the uber before Daniel had the chance to catch up to you.

But Lando saw the photos. He, like everyone else, saw images of Daniel climbing into the car right after you. He wasn't the least bit surprised you lied about it.

You didn't want to tell Lando that Daniel had grabbed the side of the car door before you could shut it, pulling it back just enough for him to slide into the backseat next to you. You shuffled over to make room, but you couldn’t get a single word out. All liquid courage vanished and instead your palms were clammy, the car felt stuffy and you couldn’t even look at him.

Daniel as well, didn’t say anything. His legs were spread out slightly, knee hitting yours as his hands were folded together in his lap.

Why did he follow you?

This was the first time in ages you had been alone together, minus the driver.

The hotel was a short drive away, but it felt like ages, the two of you sitting in uncomfortable silence. You weren’t bickering like you often did if you were in the same room, but at this point you’d rather that than whatever this eeriness was.

You thought maybe, maybe, this was your saving grace. Maybe Daniel had followed you out of the club to tell you he was proud of you, to tell you he still loved you, to tell you he was tired of this feud and wanted you back.

But the longer you sat in silence, the more it sank in that that wasn’t the case.

You used to love each other. Now you couldn’t even hold eye contact.

Daniel waited until the driver pulled onto the street of your hotel before saying anything.

“Checo’s gone after this year.”

You turned to him, unsure if you had heard correctly. “What?”

“He’s gone,” Daniel repeated, more confident this time, still not looking at you though. “Marko told me on Friday.”

You had way too much alcohol flowing through your system to be able to process this. Checo’s contract wasn’t supposed to be up until the end of 2024.

But Nyck’s wasn’t supposed to be up in June and Daniel’s wasn’t supposed to be done at McLaren in 2022. These things happened in Formula 1, as unfortunate as it was for the driver getting the boot, these things often happened.

And Daniel…why did he know this information? Why didn’t the rest of the grid know it? Did Checo even know?

You inhaled sharply, “Does this mean-”

“The news is dropping tomorrow morning, but I wanted you to know first,” Daniel cut you off, his forehead creased with tension. His jaw was clenched, like he wasn’t happy to be saying this but felt the need to anyway. “I’m driving for Red Bull next year.”

The first thought that came to mind was he’s done it again. Taking another driver's seat before their contact ended. 2-1 now. He was officially a shittier person than you were and you so badly wanted to rub it in his face.

But you could see now that that was why he told you personally. He didn’t want to wait until you heard the news like everyone else, he didn’t want to give you an opportunity to attack him for this, to make him feel like the bad guy even though that’s how he made you feel this entire season so far.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that difficult to bite your tongue.

“Congratulations,” you settled on, quietly but you meant it and you caught him off guard because he truly was expecting some sort of lashing out.

The driver pulled up to the hotel right at that second and you thanked him before stepping out, not giving Daniel a second look, again catching him off guard because you always looked back at him when you were together.

Daniel waited a second. And then a few more before he bolted out of the car and into the hotel. You had made it to the elevator by that point and Daniel had to slide his hand between the doors to keep them from shutting. You watched as he pushed his way in and just like the car ride, said nothing.

You were on your way up to the twelve floor and Daniel waited until you arrived at the level before opening his mouth, waiting till the last second, wanting to cling onto this civil moment with you because who knew when it would come again?

“You’re not mad?” He asked.

The door opened and you had to brace yourself before standing up straight and walking out of the elevator, needing a moment to remember what side of the hall your room was on.

“I’m livid,” you answered, honestly. You were happy for him, but you were also angry about the situation. You didn’t know it was possible to feel both things at once, but in your drunk state, it was extremely possible.

“Livid?” Daniel walked behind you, trying to gauge the rest of this conversation because you didn’t sound livid.

“Enraged,” you said.

“Enraged,” he repeated.

“I want to wring your neck, Daniel,” you said, hearing him chuckle behind you because you didn’t sound the least bit threatening as you fumbled to unlock the hotel room door. The lock kept lighting up red and after your third failed attempt, Daniel took the card from your hand and unlocked it with ease, pushing the door open for you.

You didn’t thank him, instead relying on the wall once you stepped inside to lean against as you pulled your heels off. Daniel followed you inside, standing at a cautious distance until you dropped your shoes because part of him thought that maybe you would throw them at him. You were enraged after all.

You weren’t sure why he was still there. He had told you what he wanted to tell you and he had no reason to still be hanging around.

“What?” You finally asked, now sounding a little more on the annoyed side as you turned to stare at him. “What do you want? Why are you still here?”

“I want to talk.”

“About what?” You scoffed at him. “About the Red Bull contract? Congratulations, Danny. You deserve it. You deserve every fucking seat on this grid apparently.”

There it was.

“I knew you were mad.”

“I said I was mad!” You exclaimed, appalled that he was saying it like he discovered what you had already made perfectly clear. “I’m pissed, Dan. You have such a cult following that no one is going to bat an eye at you taking Checo’s seat, just like no one complained about you taking Nyck’s. Whereas I do it, I get offered the chance of a lifetime, to make history and I’m considered the villain? I didn’t end your contract, Daniel, I just replaced you and for some reason, no one cares about that narrative! They just care about you.”

You were yelling now. Daniel was probably regretting having followed you but it was too late for him to turn and walk out at this point.

“You know what the shitty part is?” You asked, stepping closer to him. Daniel could smell the vodka on your breath. That's how minimal the distance was between you. The last time you were this close you were wanting to rip his head off outside the AlphaTauri garage.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows. Daniel couldn’t even begin to guess where you were going with this.

“This news is going to drop and my name is going to be circulating in the media again. They’re going to compare this, you taking his seat, to me taking yours. I will never be known as the first female signed to McLaren. I will forever be linked to you, no matter what you do in this fucking sport.”

You shook your head at him when he stayed silent. Pulling your eyes off of him, the heaviest exhale passed through your lips and you turned around, wanting this night to end. After you waved your hand in the air you muttered something about how he could see himself out.

But he didn’t go anywhere.

And because he didn’t go anywhere and because you were drunk, you easily thought of more to say.

“You didn’t even like McLaren,” you sighed as you turned back around to face him, leaning against the wall. Your head was spinning. Maybe if you were lucky, this conversation wasn’t actually happening and it was a drunk figment of your imagination.

“No, but I loved you.”

You definitely didn’t imagine him saying that.

“I loved you,” he repeated, the past-tense admittance felt like a stab to your chest. “And I wanted nothing more than to race alongside you without feeling the need to prove something, to be your partner off the grid. I wanted to love you and race at the same time and you ruined that.”

All you could do was shrug your shoulders. You had said everything you needed to say at this point in defence of your contract, “I’m a driver, Dan. The race, the seat, it comes first, everything else second. You of all people know that.”

“We could have had both.”

Both. Love and a spot in Formula 1.

Clearly not.

“Could we have?” You asked, unsure if you even had an answer, but you needed him to really think about it. To think about it if that really was a possibility for the two of you.

Daniel and you held each other's stares for a minute, waiting for the other to say something. You were still waiting, hoping, for him to say he was proud of you, that he still loved you, that it didn’t matter what happened in the past, but it did matter. Daniel was still waiting for a sincere apology, but you had nothing to apologise for. Signing that McLaren contract was the best thing you’d ever done for yourself, despite the strings to Daniel you had now found yourself tangled in, McLaren was where you were supposed to be.

“I’m tired, Dan,” you shook your head and glanced towards your room down the hall. Physically, mentally, you were drained. And you weren’t ready for what was to happen tomorrow when his contract news came to light.

It didn’t even feel like you had gotten a podium a few hours ago. The last thing you wanted to do was celebrate. You just wanted to crawl into bed and forget that Daniel had followed you here.

He didn’t stop you as you walked down the hall. He waited for you to look at him, but again, you were past that. What was a second look going to do at this point? You wiped your makeup off as best as you could and slid under the covers of your bed, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.

And sure enough, the news dropped of his contract, of his new seat, and it wasn’t long before people started comparing it to what you had done the year prior.

The first thing you saw when you woke up that morning, aside from the glass of water that Daniel had put next to your bed, was the news alert on your phone stating that Daniel was to replace Checo for 2024.

The second article you read was about you. Speculating how you would feel about Daniel’s permanent return. The article highlighted the moments of your relationship, starting from the day he signed on to be your mentor to the time in the AlphaTauri garage when you were fighting over the qualifying lap he ruined.

And then there was a photo of you climbing into the car from last night, followed by Daniel getting into the car shortly after.

His name was trending. Your name was trending. Half the people online cared about his return to RBR. The other half wanted to know if you two were getting back together.

No one gave a single shit that you made history yesterday, landing that podium.

You were the first female to score a podium position in Formula 1 and all anyone cared about was your connection to Daniel. Just like when you won the Monaco Grand Prix during F2, all anyone cared about was Daniel’s influence in your racing. When you were signed to McLaren, all anyone cared about was how you were replacing Daniel.

Daniel. Daniel. Daniel.

People didn’t care about your accomplishments. They only wanted to find a way to connect them all to Daniel.

You scrolled through the article and a new one was suggested for you at the bottom of it. Why Y/N Y/L/N Owes Her Career to The Honey Badger.

Instead of reading it, you threw your phone with as much strength as you had down the hall, out of your sight. You heard it hit the floor and slide across the hardwood.

You couldn’t remember the last time you read something positive about yourself without a hint of Daniel’s influence.

This wouldn’t have been as hard of a pill to swallow if he was still in your life the way you wanted him to be. If he really was still at your side, supporting you, cheering you on, you could look past the articles and speculations about how he was the only reason you were in the sport. It wouldn’t matter what people were saying if Daniel was in your ear reminding you of your potential, reminding you that you deserved that F1 seat.

But he wasn’t going to do that, not anymore. What you had was gone and you were left with the bitter memories and an unforgiving path you had to walk alone to prove yourself in this field.

You wanted to prove you didn’t need Daniel, but the entire world was making it their mission to remind you that at one point, you did. Maybe you still did, maybe you didn’t know who you were without him because let’s face it, everything you did on the track still revolved around him.

You cared about where he finished. You went out of your way to outscore him and only him. You didn’t do anything to relieve the tension in the paddock. You were very much playing into the narrative that he was still a key player in your life.

How could the world move on if you hadn’t?

Hearing footsteps make their way towards you, you sat up in bed, already knowing it was Daniel who didn’t leave when he should have.

You weren’t concerned about your appearance, he had seen you in a much worse state. He had better mornings as well, still wearing his clothes from last night, the bags under his eyes gave away the fact that he was about as tired as you were.

He had your phone in his hands, but he didn’t spend much time looking at the article on the screen. Instead, he dropped it to the table next to him and leaned against the doorframe, exhaling a heavy breath.

You didn’t move, content with the distance between you now because you had to be. Despite wanting nothing more than to be with him, you couldn’t have that anymore. Everything had to be at a distance.

Your phone chimed. Once, twice, and then about four more times. You knew it was people telling you about Daniel’s contract, not knowing that you had been given the inside scoop last night.

At one point, you loved being connected to Daniel. Now, it was a burden. It was haunting. Each time someone mentioned him to you, sent you something about him, asked you a question about him, you were reminded that the connection was gone.

Your lips parted and you had to take a quick, self-assuring breath before finally saying what had to be said.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

Your entire body trembled as you spoke, “You know what, Daniel.”

Of course he did. He was as tired as you were. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this and yet here you were, staring at each other knowing that you were both too far gone to ever find your way back.

You thought, maybe, possibly, you could work things out. For a brief moment, when you knew he was proud of you, you thought you saw a silver lining amongst the grey skies. And maybe you did, maybe it was there, but it was way beyond your grasp. You couldn’t reach out and grab it, you could only dream of it.

There was one solution. One that broke you, knowing you were stuck with it. You didn’t want to admit it. You wished you could push it down and keep living the way you had but you just couldn’t do it anymore.

You were tired. This was hopeless. You both needed closure, but he wasn’t going to say anything which meant you had to.

“I’m stuck, Daniel. I’m stuck living in the moments between the day we met and the day I left because those are the moments that meant the most to me and I haven't been ready to let them go. I’ve never wanted to move on but you forced me to. You forced me to become the bad guy, to do this without you, to grow without you, to prove that I don’t need you but I do need you, I’ve always needed you. From day one, I needed you. My first time in the F1 car, I needed you. If I crashed out, I needed you. I always needed you, Daniel, and then after a five minute conversation you decided that I didn’t anymore. You made that decision for me, for us.”

You paused, you took a breath, you weren’t done. Despite being so painfully close to breaking down, you weren’t done.

“And now here I am, finally succeeding, finally making history in this sport, but it doesn’t mean anything because no one cares unless they find a way to connect it to you. I will always be in the shadow of the man I love and for this entire season, I’ve let it happen because it was the only way you’d still be in my life.”

Daniel cleared his throat when he heard that four letter word, standing up a little straighter, “You still love me?”

You glanced down at the duvet wrapped around your hips. It was heavy, suffocating, much like this conversation. “Truthfully, Daniel, I can’t imagine the day I stop.”

Daniel didn’t need to say anything for you to know he no longer felt the same. He had stopped loving you the day you signed the contract with McLaren. He may have been proud of your achievements, he may have appeared to have extended a short olive branch, one that gave you false hope, but he didn’t love you.

Because it always came back to that one question. How could he love you- how could he be in your corner when you had pushed him out of his own? You may not have been the one to initiate his leave, but you gave him that final shove.

That was a move you had to live with.

“I love you,” you repeated, your eyes then trailing towards your phone where that stupid article was still displayed on the screen. “I always will, but I can’t be tied to you anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

Even though Daniel was the one that had broken up with you all those months ago, this hurt more. Hearing you finally cut ties, knowing you didn’t want to be done but had to be, broke him. There was no salvaging this.

“I think-” your voice cracked as you spoke, but for the sake of this conversation you did your damn best to hold it together. “I think we need to be done.”

We are done, Daniel wanted to say, but he knew there was more to your words.

Watching your bottom lip quiver made him want to pull you into his arms one last time. He wanted to apologise and hold you close before the tears could fall.

“No more comments to the media,” you stated firmly. Daniel nodded.

You were stronger than him, maybe you always were. Daniel could barely get a word out and here you were, laying down what had to happen moving forward.

“No more interactions,” you then said, raising your hand to your arm, a soothing gesture or maybe an anxious one, he couldn’t tell. “No more- no more following me out of clubs for people to see. No more giving anyone a reason to connect us. I don’t want you in my life as anything more than another driver on the grid. You’re not my teammate. You’re not my partner. You’re not in my corner. I don’t want to worry about what you think about me anymore. I don’t want to worry about where you finish and I don’t want you to care about where I’m at. I want you to focus on driving just like I want to focus on driving. That’s it. That’s who we are. We’re drivers, Daniel. That’s all we’ve ever been. Strip back every layer of us and racing remains. That’s how it should be. We’ve-” you sucked in a breath, your words getting caught in your throat for a second. “We’ve always known that, I think. That at the end of it all, we’re drivers first. We were foolish to think we could be anything more.”

You couldn’t have both. You couldn’t be in love while on the grid together.

You were only ever drivers. That’s why you signed the McLaren contract. That’s why Daniel didn’t think twice before replacing Nyck and now Checo. You both put your careers first. It wasn’t selfish, it was in your blood, and you couldn’t hold it against each other anymore.

And you couldn’t hold onto it either.

As much as you liked to think there would come a day where you would still be in love, both of you on the grid, you accepted now that it would never happen. It was a dream, one you had to let go of. You had to mend the hole in your chest that he created. You couldn’t let him be that missing piece.

You had to respect Daniel as a driver, much like he had to with you. But that was it. No more conversations. No more subtle comments made about each other or to each other. You needed distance. No more missed looks in the paddock, because surely someone with a camera would catch it. No more watching the screen if the other was showcased. No more petty feuds. No more interactions. No more caring.

You had to cut ties with Daniel. It was the only way you could focus on yourself and your career.

Surely, enough time would pass where an article would be written about you that didn’t mention his name and his assistance in getting you to where you were now. But that wouldn’t happen if you were still holding onto him. You had to let go for the rest of the world to.

Daniel pushed himself away from the wall without saying a word. You watched, tense, as he slowly made his way towards you and sat down next to you on the bed. Knees touching like they were in the car ride last night. As you turned your head and stared up at him, you could make out the details in his face that you used to cherish, that you had memorised so early on in your relationship.

But he had changed. There was a sliver of unfamiliarity in his eyes, a reminder that this wasn’t the Daniel who was in love with you anymore.

You had to look away.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whispered. You kept your hands folded in your lap, worried that if you unclenched your fingers you would reach out for him.

Daniel nodded, agreeing with you. He raised his arm up, tucking it over your shoulders and pulling you against his side. You inhaled a sharp breath at the gesture, knowing this would be the last time you’d feel his touch. He rubbed his hand over your arm, neither of you thinking to say anything else, because there really was nothing left to say.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be in love.

And maybe, in another world, you would be. If you didn’t make the move to F1, you could still be in love. If you settled with F2, if you moved to a different series, he could still support you and you could still be his biggest fan.

But you were drivers. Career focused, determined, passionate drivers who wanted nothing more than to win. You both craved the honour and prestige of a Formula 1 seat more than anything, more than each other. You’d be lying if you thought otherwise.

You were drivers, so inevitably, it was always going to end like this.

__________________

is this the finale or is there one more chapter for these loveless drivers?

taglist: @torossosebs@whatthefuckerr@jspitwall@oconso@tsarinablogs@landowecanbewc@somanyfandomsbruh@christianpulisic10@storminacloud@sunnytkm23@formula1mount@azxulaa@icarus-nex@spideyspeaches @moonvr @destourtereaux @baw-sixteen @cinderellawithashoe @love4lando @alesainz @blueanfield @itsmeempar @vellicora

for some reason im struggling to add anyone else to the taglist, i deeply apologise. i would recommend turning on post notifs but i know its sometimes annoying, but i rly am struggling with my mentions

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #danny ric #dr3 #f1 fics #formula 1 x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo au

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y-rhywbeth2 · 1 year ago

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D&D Vampire Lore Dump #1

Feeding and Diet It's actually more complicated than just "they bite you and eat your blood." Plus what they're able to eat; how often they need to eat; what happens to you if they bite you and what happens to them if they don't feed- spoiler: it's unpleasant. Incidentally, you should reload and kill Cazador again.

(I was comparing stuff across editions and compiling it into something more coherent and then figured I'd info dump about it in case my fixations are useful to somebody out there.)

DISCLAIMER: There are two things to note about the lore presented here: First, while the standard stat block in the monster manual is the default, in terms of lore vampires have this annoying tendency to be incredibly, stupidly varied. They are magical monstrosities ruled by the power of symbolism and superstition above anything else.

The next is that D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest.

Basically, in D&D, canon is what you decide it is.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

They only need to feed once in a 24 hour period. Vampires can survive between 3-9 months of starvation, but it's a terrible idea. -

There are three different categories of "Undead Hunger." Vampires have two of them and actually need to consume more than one thing to stay "healthy": Blood and life force. -

The blood is obvious. This is categorised as a "diet dependency." It's required to preserve their bodies and powers, and without it their powers* are suppressed as their bodies begin to shut down. *This refers to the powers a vampire gains with age; they cannot lose power they had as a newborn (the base stat blocks given for vampires and spawn given in the monster manual) A vampire requires the equivalent of 12 hit points of blood a day, or it begins to revert into a corpse-like state. Mentally they slowly regress into a desperate, mindless animal frenzy where they'll kill and drain anything containing blood they can get their hands on. Ultimately, if they don't get any blood then they revert into a corpse and they're trapped in their own body as it begins to wither and mummify. They're trapped in a coma, vaguely aware of the passing of time in flashes of awareness until somehow they are fed blood. If they ever wake up again, they will probably wake up feral and absolutely ravenous. -

Vampires rely on the victim's blood pressure to expel blood from the wound they create, lapping and mouthing at the wound rather than actually sucking on it. Being bitten is a highly pleasurable experience that victims can't help but desire, even when they know they shouldn't. -

While the damage done remains, the wounds from a Vampire bite closes itself quickly after the feeding (assuming you're still alive). It does however leave a mark. The bite mark itself is often "less than half an inch in length", and leaves behind a significant bruise that causes no pain or sensitivity to touch. Other side effects include fatigue and a weakened immune system. -

Vampires typically target sleeping victims (less likely to fight back) and favour the blood of their own race above others. So theoretically, Astarion finds elf blood tastes best. -

Drinking animal blood tastes bland and is health-wise akin to drinking tainted water: yes it might keep you alive in desperate times, but it's ultimately bad for you and will probably make you ill. That said, it has no mechanical detriments and a vampire that's forced to live on animal blood will be just as strong as its kin, but considerably bad tempered about it. -

A vampire's secondary feeding requirement is called an "inescapable craving", which means that if a vampire doesn't get that fix then their hunger begins to devour them instead. The pain is described as a spike boring into the vampire's brain, obscuring their awareness. They begin to obsess over feeding to the exclusion of everything else, they become willing to take ridiculous levels of risk to stop the hunger as they become more and more desperate. As they are consumed they become progressively more feral until they're just a rampaging mindless horror driven only by horrific hunger. For vampires, their inescapable craving is life force, which a vampire leeches from their prey through touch leaving the victim weak. Direct skin contact isn't required, if you're wearing full plate and/or the vampire is wearing gloves and they lay a hand on you they can still drain you. Mechanically these were combat abilities, energy/level draining occurred when a vampire struck a target with their own body (usually their hands). Before 5e hit them with a nerf bat, vampires could permanently weaken you this way (you could lose character levels from this). 5e also seems to have rolled life drain into the biting, so a vampire can consume your blood and energy at the same time. -

Post feeding, a vampire starts to look alive. Their skin is flushed and warm and they feel elated and energetic. In contrast, a vampire that hasn't been feeding properly becomes more corpse like and feels "sluggish" (I'm interpreting that as flu-like symptoms). It's purely emotional however, the vampire is no less capable and dangerous and suffers no mechanical penalties. -

Vampires can feed on other vampires, which is actually more filling than living humanoid blood and gives them the ability to communicate telepathically for a few hours. They don't like it though. If a vampire drinks from another vampire then they can be controlled by that vampire and the link forces them to feel affection for each other against their will until it wears off. The results of both vampires in question feeding on each other is described as "debilitating" since they both paradoxically become enslaved to the other's will and forced to "love" each other creating an absolute dysfunctional mess of control, obsession and resentment. The good news is that it only lasts a few hours. -

Some vampires can eat regular food (no nutritional value in it for them) while others would regurgitate it if they tried. As they retain their tongues, vampires can also taste food. That said, it's a bad idea for them to eat garlic, even if they can eat solid food. -

Some kinds of vampires don't drink blood. There's all kinds of weird and wonderful stuff a vampire might be required to consume instead. Spinal fluid stands out. Or the bit about ones who drain the ocular fluid from your eyes. Gale might find interesting things to talk about with the magic eating ones who prey on mages. They're much less common, probably something to do with most people not finding that very sexy. I don't think any of them exist on Toril.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion #vampire tav #long post #the screaming into the void will continue until the hyperfixation is out of my system

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kafus · 2 months ago

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hi guys meet scramble. the salamence i have been preparing for NEARLY AN ENTIRE FUCKING MONTH!!!! AAAAA

so okay. i am trying to build a 6 pokemon team to take on orre colosseum in pokemon xd gale of darkness. for the uninitiated, it's basically like gen 3 VGC, but against NPCs with predetermined and handcrafted teams made by the developers. you can honestly kind of think of it like the trainer battles in the indigo disk DLC, but if pretty much all the fights had a full team and some competitive merit. and of course gen 3 doubles mechanics (which have some WILD fundamental differences from modern VGC, but i digress as that's not really the point of this post)

despite getting perfect stat pokemon being extremely difficult and time consuming in gen 3, and basically impossible outside of emerald if you want the right natures on your pokemon, the NPC opponents in orre colosseum have pokemon with perfect IVs and such, so to not suffer you really have to have some Good Pokemon. now usually this wouldn't be a problem for me because i know how to RNG manipulate wild encounters and eggs in gen 3... but there's a catch.

see i've been trying to play this copy of emerald, my new main file as of last year, MOSTLY fully legitimately and as intended by the developers, AKA no RNG manipulation and very little use of glitches. don't get me wrong, there are exceptions to this, i make my own rules and i'm just here to have fun, not to prove myself like it's some sort of challenge run for the internet to judge me on. but as for battle tower pokemon and whatnot, i haven't used RNG manipulation at all, and i intend to keep it that way. i've used RNG manipulation for that stuff in the past and frankly i'm just bored of it.

this is the team i built for orre colosseum. it's first time ever building my own team for gen 3 doubles, so i suppose we'll see how it goes, but yeah. a writeup on it after i beat orre colosseum in the future perhaps. for the sake of this post, the important pokemon is that salamence.

this thing was a fucking NIGHTMARE to get without RNG manipulation. as you may or may not know, hidden power is a move that can be any type and of any base power between 30 and 70, depending on the IVs of the pokemon that knows the move. this is an extremely unforgiving calculation and it's also pretty complex so i'm not going to get into the exact math here. but what you need to know about breeding this salamence is:

bagon is 40 egg cycles. most standard pokemon are 20. they take double the time to hatch compared to other pokemon. collecting and hatching these eggs was excessively slow, even with flame body

dragon dance is an egg move and egg moves can only be passed down by male parents in gen 3, so that is something i have to juggle

the adamant nature has only a 50/50 chance of passing with the everstone hold item as opposed to the 100% chance in modern gens. additionally, it only works when the female parent is holding it (or a ditto, but that's irrelevant here)

there is no way to guarantee the passing down of specific IVs, and there also is no destiny knot to guarantee that 5 total IVs are passed down from the parents. you're stuck with getting a random 2-3 IVs from the parents in completely random fashion

this means that i have to hatch dozens of eggs to even get a pokemon with 3 perfect IVs, even off of two parents that have the 3 perfect IVs, and the process of getting those parents in the first place is a very slow and incremental and random process... WHILE juggling nature and egg moves

the cherry on top is that to realistically have the chance to get hidden power flying, i have to have two parents with a 30 IV in special attack/special defense and a 30 or a 31 in speed. so i can't just get a perfect bagon and call it a day, i have to cross two perfect bagons with all of the above parameters to roll for those parameters to pass down again, and also roll HP flying.

NOW. i made this WAY more torturous on myself. because the easiest way to get HP flying is by pairing two x/x/x/30/30/30 parents together. but knowing that orre colosseum pokemon can have perfect stats, and because of the relative lack of speed control options in gen 3 doubles (no tailwind, no trick room, etc), every point of speed matters. i wanted that perfect speed of 31. the issue? when rolling for x/x/x/30/30/31 pokemon instead, the only way that the type of the hidden power is flying is if all the three other IVs are even numbers. so alltogether, i need the following to happen on any bagon egg, assuming that i've already put together the two x/x/x/30/30/31 parents with a male dragon dance bagon and an adamant female bagon holding an everstone:

all three IVs to pass down from the parents (the way emerald determines which IVs pass down is weird but it's roughly a 1/16 chance for the offspring to be 30/30/31)

the nature to pass down with the everstone (1/2)

all three other IVs to randomly roll even (1/8)

so the odds? 1/256. and that's not even a guarantee that the final resulting bagon has GOOD IVs in its other stats, just EVEN numbers. or 0. they could all be 0!!!!

and the first bagon i got after probably around 200 eggs (i wasn't counting at that point)? a middling 16 in attack, and a fucking ZERO in HP. zero!!!! i was so sick of bagons at this point that i considered keeping it and stopping there on that fateful day of september 1st. BUT I WAS NOT SMART. AND I DIDN'T. i decided i would keep hatching bagon until i got one more HP flying one with the IVs and nature passed down, and THEN i would stop no matter what, just keeping whichever bagon of the two was better.

i actually started fucking losing it. i had to recount the amount of bagon i ended up hatching. i was doing it full boxes at a time, and later on i even added a second save file/GBA SP just to make it go faster. you know how many bagon i hatched?? 840!! for a 1/256 chance!!! dealing with the 40 egg cycles and everything!!!

my friends watched me slowly devolve into insanity as i routinely announced in our game liveposting channel that i was HATCHING MORE BAGON. and FINALLY after nearly a full month of on and off bagon hatching. I GOT ONE TODAY. AND GUESS WHAT ITS ATTACK IV WAS.

IT.

WAS.

2!!!

anyway i'm not even actually mad because i'm just so happy this is over. i was getting so fucking sick of it. i love long pokemon grinds but this was a lot even for me. it doesn't feel even remotely good like full odds hunting and this is the longest and most miserable egg grind i've ever done in these games and will hopefully ever have to do. and yet despite knowing that i couldn't stop myself because of sunken cost fallacy. and being stubborn. so i am glad to be RELEASED from BAGON PURGATORY

i am settling for the 0 HP IV 16 attack iv bagon and i will love her. she is named scramble as a reference to the sheer amount of eggs i hatched on this journey and also the scrambled RNG. and despite it all i am very proud of myself and excited to use her in orre colosseum regardless of everything. but i can't for a while because i have three more pokemon to breed... none of which should even be NEARLY this painful. hopefully. FINGERS FUCKING CROSSED!!

#long post #sorry this assumes Some knowledge of how pokemon works #like i explain some stuff but it assumes you have Foundations #kiki was here #kiki plays games #kiki.txt #emerald #pokemon emerald #salamence #pokemon rse #rse

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 3 months ago

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What do you think about opinions that Chloe’s development was ruined in season 3 finale because Thomas didn’t like that viewers like her more than Marinette? I Don’t think that it’s true, but it gave me idea that Thomas ruined Chloe’s already few character development because viewers liked her more than Gabriel.

I've heard this theory before and it seems like a massive stretch to me. It's always possible, but I don't feel comfortable making accusations like this without some hard evidence and I've yet to see any, though it's not like I follow this guy on Twitter or anything. My knowledge of what goes on behind the scenes is all based on random things that make their way to my Tumblr feed. So if someone has hard evidence, feel free to reblog and add it, but the most likely explanation is just bad writing. Why ascribe malice when incompetence makes just as much sense and requires a lot less motivation?

Think about what this accusation is actually saying. It's claiming that an adult man willfully ruined a major element of his passion project (or even just the show that he's known for, meaning that it will define his future career) because he was salty that people liked a character that he created. That seems like a conspiracy theory take to me.

It's also not like Thomas has full creative control of the show! Head writers have power, but they rarely have total power. They're still employees and a ton of things happen between an episode being written and the final version being aired. Producers, directors, censors, and many others usually okay a script prior to an episode being animated because that's the most expensive element. Plus it's not like he's the only one who wrote Chloe's story. Every season two and season three episode is credited to multiple writers. In other words, it seems like multiple people signed off on Chloe's story.

There's also the issue of the air dates. Queen Wasp and Miracle Queen first aired about twelve months apart (October 6 2018 vs October 15 2019). Production times for animated TV shows are about that long, which would mean that Miracle Queen was probably being written or was even already set in stone around the time that Queen Wasp aired. In other worlds, every element of Chloe's journey was probably at least sketched out before the audience ever saw it start. That would mean that nothing in that story was reactionary. It just doesn't fit the timeline.

While Chloe's season three ending was a total mess, it was hardly out of nowhere. It was glaringly obvious that Chloe couldn't stay Queen Bee from the moment that we met Queen Bee. You can't willfully out yourself to the world and expect to stay a hero (or, at least, that shouldn't be a thing Felix). I was honestly baffled when they gave her back the bee in Malediktator and relieved when Marinette finally acknowledged the problem in Miraculer:

Ladybug: I'm sorry, Chloé. I should've told you this a long time ago. I might never be able to let you be Queen Bee again.

Which was, of course, the setup for Miracle Queen, further complicating this theory because it looks like less than a year passed between the world premieres of Queen Wasp and Miraculer (October 6 2018 vs May 15 2019).

I don't know if this made it to your Tumblr feed, but the Miraculous writing team announced that the writing for season six was done back in late March. The show won't air until sometime this winter, well over half a year later, because that's just how animation works and they've supposedly done things to make the animation process faster this season. I just don't see how this Chloe theory works or why it needs to be a thing when her bad writing falls perfectly in line with things like the absolute disaster that was season five. She wasn't a fluke, she was a warning of things to come.

As best I can tell, the entire Queen Bee plot was just an incredibly awkward and forced way to show how dangerous identity reveals were. Which isn't a bad plot to have, but don't do that plot and then let a bunch of other temp heroes keep their miraculous post reveal! Writers, what are you even doing?

If you want my best guess answer to that, then I don't think that the writers planned to make their story feel massively hypocritical. I think that they just did a dumb writing mistake that I've seen multiple shows do: they wrote a really cool cliffhanger ending without planning how to make that ending work in the following season. And there was no way to really make the ending work, so they end up just kind of ignoring it.

The reason why this happens is pretty simple. Most shows try to end their seasons on cliffhangers so that fans will come back for the next season. It's extremely rare to have a solid happy ending that ties everything together. This can lead to writers making questionable calls because they're pressed for time and have to come up with something that will keep the fans wanting more even if that thing makes no sense. It can also lead to writers making questionable calls because they DO have a plan for how the cliffhanger will play out, but when it comes time to actually put that plan into action, it gets shut down and now they have to scramble to make the nonsense work.

Anyway, what I'm really trying to say is that, as much as I like the concept of a redeemed Chloe joining the team, it was pretty clearly never going to happen in canon. The writing only backed that read for a brief moment at the start of season two where we got a handful of episodes that made Chloe feel less like a cookie-cutter mean girl and more like a true character, but then the Chloe plot really got going and I was just waiting for the inevitable fiery end. I actually thought that Chloe was going to be treated as a tragic character and become a true villain in season four. Instead we got utter nonsense that tossed her character all over the place to the point where I have no idea what they're even trying to do with her.

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #Chloe deserves better #ml writers salt #unbelievablesupercooloutrageous #the chloe conspiracy

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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 1 year ago

Text

Yet another average day in Family Video:

"Hey. Remember when you said that you'd totally fuck Jonathan."

"When...? Oh, yeah. What the fuck that was literally a month ago why are you mentioning that now?"

"Because that was the same conversation we decided to get the matching tramp stamps. And trying to hide those from my parents is a literal pain in the ass. Pun fully intended. I can't even sit straight and-"

"I'd say you can't do anything straight"

"Not like I can do anything str- fuck you"

Steve swaggers to the back and takes out the whiteboard they purchased together - on ROBIN'S SUGGESTION may he add.

"Can't believe you're losing in your own game. About bad jokes. And being gay. Which are basically your two only personality traits."

Robin's side is embarrassingly empty. He sees it as cosmic karma for her you-suck-game during their scoops ahoy era.

"Alright mister little bitch"

"And yet, this little bitch is beating you in your own game"

Robin shows him the finger. Steve bites the finger because he is a little shit and things like boundaries and personal space have already lost all meaning between the two of them.

In this moment the front doors open. The elderly man takes one look at the scene before him and leaves without a word.

"Where did the Jonathan thing come from?"

"Dunno. I was bored. Thought it'd be funny to see you go through a gay crisis."

"Not much of a crisis if I already admitted to it."

"You're no fun."

"Really? That was not what my dad said three months ago. According to him I am a fucking joke."

"Coming from Harrington Senior that's honestly a compliment"

"Please remind me of that the next time I radio you at 3 am. Who is on tape duty?"

"I did it last time."

"Alright" Steve nods towards the small pile of romcoms they have pointedly not been reshelving for the last half an hour. "Enjoy your alone time in the romance section."

"Do you think it would be an invasion of privacy if we checked who returned all that? It was either an epic girls night of an awful breakup." Her voice gets fainter as she moves to the back of the store.

"Nah. We're in the land of the free or whatever. Wait, let me do it"

"You're only saying that so you can procrastinate asshole"

"Does that mean you don't want to know who took them? Because I promise you, you really really do."

"Don't ask if you already know the answer dingus"

"Guess"

"Ummm....power bottom."

"What?"

"Like with Jonathan. Would you rather he call the shots or the other way around?"

She makes a series of incomprehensible movements that are probably supposed to represent intercourse between two men.

"This is the reason god made you a lesbian"

"And thank him for that. Amen."

"Why are you so obsessed with Jonathan anyway."

"You're deflecting"

"Yeah sure, I am deflecting. C'mon, Buckley. Resume or later?"

"Who was the one who took all the romcoms?"

"If I tell you, will you tell me what's really going on?"

"Depends on your answer."

"I thought you weren't interested in my sex life? Every time-"

In this moment the door opens again. Two girls come in, arm in arm. One is wearing a look that can only be described as disgust, the other is clearly trying to hold in laughter with moderate success.

Over the course of many painful months of customer service (plus surviving an interrogation by the actual Russian secret service) Steve and Robin have developed the ability to hold entire conversations without speaking a single word. It is a very neat talent to have when they want to make fun of someone right in front of them. It is less neat when he is the target.

Robin raises her brows. C'mon dingus, tell these random ass girls about your sex life since you're so proud of it.

Steve frowns in response. Yeah, sure Mrs. Never Even Had A First Kiss.

Robin narrows her eyes. I did have a first kiss. Even if it was absolutely horrible.

Steve puts on his most insufferable expression. You yourself said that it doesn't count. No need to be so jealous Buckley.

Robin rolls her eyes. Alright, I want to see you trying to find a-

"Do you have ET?", Robin doesn't say because, oh yeah, they've got actual customers.

Steve solemnly informs them that ET is current out of stock, but that it should be returned in two days. Robin somehow manages to force her last two movies upon them. They leave with a dazed look on their face that Steve can relate to. Sometimes Robin will start talking and the next thing you know you have a tramp stamp.

"Tommy Hagan"

Robin looks absolutely disgusted. "Tommy Hagan?! You would kiss Tommy Hagan? And then you have the audacity to make fun of my taste in women?!"

"First of all: me and Hagan? Been there done that." Robin looks as if her entire worldview was just flipped upside down. "Second: probably not, he uses a bit too much tongue for my liking. I mean that Tommy Hagan was the one who rented all the romcoms"

Robin takes a moment to process this information. Then she dramatically falls to the floor and squirms around in laughter like a bug on its back trying to get up again. Truly a drama kid through and through.

"And thirdly: for your information, I super could make out with Jonathan Byers. Unlike you, I've got game"

"You don't mean gay-me?"

Steve rolls his eyes and takes out the whiteboard again. He is still in the lead.

"And also, excuse you, I totally could make out with Nancy if I wanted to, okay?! I'm just not a homewrecker unlike some other people"

"Excuse me? I was the one who was cheated on?!"

"I'm insulting your taste, dingus"

"Rich coming from you, since we apparently share the same one"

For a moment she looks confused. Then she thinks back to what she said. Steve can pinpoint the exact moment she realizes it.

"Is this the reason you want me to be into Jonathan so bad? Because you're into Nancy?" Steve feels like a smug cat when her entire upper body grows red.

"Shut up she's just pretty okay?!"

"And badass. Don't forget badass."

"Oh my god I know. Ever since I saw her shooting I haven't been able to get her out of my mind."

"Right?! And as if that isn't enough, she has to go and be smart too! Like, c'mon, she has to have some faults. Some downsides. Nobody is that prefect!"

"Oh my god I know! And-"

They continue like that for a while. Time runs away from them and suddenly Hellfire Club is over and Steve's kids (minus Max, he notes with a heavy heart) are barging into the place as if they own it, for no reason other than to be absolute menaces.

"And like. Robin. She was so hot in that moment. I swear to-"

"Who are you talking about?". Steve is used to Dustin being a rude little shit and automatically answers without even thinking about it. "Nancy."

He realizes his mistake too late. He looks up. Mike's eyes are wide in horror. "I hate you so fucking much" he says before turning around and leaving.

Robin sighs. "I guess that is the downside."

-> the tramp stamp conversation

-> gatekeeping 101

-> breaking out of a heteronormative mindset

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theweirdwideweb · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! I would love to hear about your recent adventures in psychedelics, if you don't mind sharing

Took a medium strength dose of mushrooms and when it didn't produce a bigger effect I took stimulants, an entire package of gummies, and some THC drinks. I had a babysitter who had agreed upon a safety plan with me beforehand and I was sneaking around behind their back taking extra drugs without telling them. It's probably the worst thing I've done since I gave up my sobriety at Christmas, not only healthwise but lying to people I love. I'm going sober again and have a plan. 1) If I can't stay sober I can't do EMDR. 2) I need a month sobriety before I start EMDR again. 3) My sister hosts a daily 7am AA meeting which I will be attending for the forseeable future. If none of that should work my therapist has referred me to an outpatient program that specializes in addiction, women, and trauma. Today's literally day 1 for me. Happy Hump Day! Have a great May Day everyone!

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redleavesinthewind · 11 months ago

Text

elliot's 2023 fic wrap up

2022 version

alright friends it is once again time for me to review the (many) fics i read in the previous year and try to write a more or less concise rec list of my absolute faves (i wish i didn't have to chose but heh i'm not gonna subject anyone to 332 fics in 1 post - also wait only 332 fics? that's like. over 100 less than last year, what the fuck. anyway)

okay now first the part that interests no one but me (yes you may skip this) and that's the numbers part! i'm not making a whole elaborate spreadsheet to then not throw around cool numbers. anyway.

i've read around 4,932k words in 332 fics across 18 fandoms. that is much less than last year, and yeah, i've been generally less productive in 2023 but we don't have to talk about it. at least i have more variety of fandoms this time (let's ignore that it's only 2 more and also that from fandom 13 on there's only 1 fic per fandom)

i started out the year strong with 847k words across 72 fic in february (followed by 753k across 42 fics in january, and 621k words across 63 fics in march). it goes downhill for the rest of the year. eh it wasn't my year so what! 2024 is gonna be more filled with fic reading again!!!

my top 3 fandoms are so entirely unsurprising to me i am almost disappointed in myself. when did i become so predictable. top fandom is young royals with 166 fics! congratulations young royals, you are a very persistent hyperfixation, you didn't peter out after 2 months like i expected. Spot number 2 is taken by avatar the last airbender with 41 fics! giant leap there, but it's also funny because i fell into an atla rabbit hole late 2023 (as i do every few years) and it still got up to 41 fics despite uni not allowing me to read last semester (uni is evil). Same as last year, spn takes third place with 38 fics. speaking of persistent hyperfixations.......... *big sigh*

and that is it the boring part is over let's go to the fun section LET'S REC SOME FIIIIIICCCCSSSSSSS (under the cut)

JANUARY

bet you you'll ... (noraverse) (series) by @gh0sthugs | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 52k words

a kid fic!! and such a sweet one too! i'm kinda weak for kid fics ngl, and nora is so sweet and wonderful, and the relationship that slowly forms between wille and simon is beautiful and comfortable. this whole series is just such a good time

spreadsheet notes: ah to fall in love with the dilf next door who also happens to be the ex crown prince of the country

A Royal Intervention by AnxiousAnaconda | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 18k words

erik is being such a dumbass in this one. like, he means well, but he's kinda messing up and pissing people off (understandably). it's nice to get a view on erik that's not portraying him as this perfect guy though, and the fic is actually so much fun to read. and hey, the prime minister of luxembourg gets mentioned, which i was kinda waiting for in yr fic ngl

spreadsheet notes: big sigh... erik you fucking idiot. stop listening to august. also shoutout to xavier bettel apparently (edit: this aged poorly, fuck xavier bettel)

and each slow dusk by @if-fortunate | young royals, wilmon | mature | 49k words

okay. ooookay how do i even begin with this one. ohhh boy. okay. so. world war three. wille gets stuck in bjärstad with simon, many many things happen, it's about finding hope in a horrible situation and trying to live life despite everything falling apart around you. it's incredibly well written and something about it just has me in awe

spreadsheet notes: i don't know what it says about me that this is without a shadow of a doubt the best fic i have ever read in my life

Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant | young royals, wilmon | mature | 50k words

i once again don't know what to say, this one is sooo good. simon is suffering and both wille and i hate it, but... but wille is there for him and ugh, they just... they just can't be apart. a story of reconciliation and healing from both physical and invisible wounds, and of making the right decisions for yourself

spreadsheet notes: ugh. UGH. my guys. MY GUYS. yeah let's go blackmail the queen

Department Six by @thisdiscontentedwinter | teen wolf | gen | 4k words

a fun short one about stiles and danny working for the fbi and being delightfully weird and mysterious

spreadsheet notes: HILARIOUS i'm in love with outsider pov always

FEBRUARY

There Are No Wolves in California by @thisdiscontentedwinter | teen wolf, sterek | gen | 5k words

you know, sometimes you see a fic you know is going to hurt you, and you've never clicked on anything faster. this is definitely one of those fics

spreadsheet notes: let's be wolves today yeah well derek what if i just break down and cry instead

you got my body, i got your body by @prince-simon | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 9k words

this one's technically part of a bigger series (which, definitely read that one too), but i'm highlighting this one cause... damn... this made me feel things... like, gender things... which is really weird cause wille's gender in this is very much different from mine BUT STILL

spreadsheet notes: how almost 9k of pwp gave me so many gender feelings i will never understand

Changing Channels: Queer Premiere by @emeraldcas, @fellshish | spn, deancas | gen | 27k words

this might actually be one of the funniest fics i've ever read. dean and cas are so stupid (affectionately) and all the crossovers are delightful (bonus that i knew all the other shows). everyone go read this it's gonna be the best time

spreadsheet notes: mel and fells have genuinely outdone themselves this is the most hilarious shit i've ever read

Catalyst by @stretchoutfics | young royals | teen&up | 3k words

a backstory for boris! this fic is within a series of other side character ficlets, but this one has a soft spot in my heart

spreadsheet notes: AAAAHHHH HE KNEW ABOUT THE RECKLESS DRIVING BUT DIDN'T BRING IT UP but also... him being a gay man trying to help the queer crown prince navigate his sexuality that's kinda nice actually, like boris understands at least a bit

The most beautiful boy by lovelysarcastic | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 88k words

there's something incredibly grounding about this fic. the way it develops, the way wille rationalises his thought processes, the way the relationship between wille and simon develops... this fic just kinda sucked me in and spit me out again feeling... content and calm and... it's just... this fic is so beautiful

spreadsheet notes: dude i love this so much??? they're both so stupid??? i love them???

MARCH

All's Fair in Love and Hunting by @badjoices | spn, deancas | mature | 20k words

they're playing gay chicken but also are being incredibly competitive and stupid about it, and i'm just sorry about the shit sam has to witness. so many shenanigans in this fic

spreadsheet notes: they are both so stupid omg

["mi cotufita" started sharing their screen] by @omar-rudeberg | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 60k

so... this is a follow up to one of my favourite fics and it is a delight. very horny but also very sweet? and also for some reason there's porn. fun times! oh, and this fic made me cry. it really has the range

spreadsheet notes: how are they so horny it's so funnyyyyyy, but also if i were wille i could never look linda in the eyes again

A Light To Guide You In The Dark (Warmed By The Fire's Glow) by 80shairmetal | stranger things, harringrove | teen&up | 19k words

this is just... people taking care of each other out of the kindness of their hearts. finding comfort in strangers who become family. growing and helping each other. there's such a beauty to this one

spreadsheet notes: this is just..... comfort

did you see the love in my eyes, oh were you gazing through this disguise? by @tooindecisivetopickaurl | young royals, wilmon | mature | 67k words

fake dating my beloved. they're so in love with each other but they're pretending not to be while pretending... to be? i'm obsessed with them. but they're so respectful with each other and cautious of boundaries and they really are best friends who also happen to be obliviously in love

spreadsheet notes: love a good fake dating au they're so stupid i love them

flash like a setting sun by @playedwright | 911, buddie | explicit | 22k words

because you only realise you're in love with your best friend when you're scared you're losing him. that's the fic. and it's beautiful

spreadsheet notes: oh this is sooooo beautifully written and ugh just <333

Other people's secrets by @sflow-er | young royals, walty & wilmon | mature | 239k words

yooooo hello? so first off this is an outsider pov on wilmon which i am always obsessed with anyways but the focus isn't just on them, this is henry's story. it's a beautiful story about how friendships form and warp and change, how feelings manifest in different ways, how decisions and actions have consequences. it's an incredibly mature take on post-s1, and it's probably my favourite of the year. also ace representation!!!!

spreadsheet notes: ace henry my beloved <33 also love seeing wilmon from an outside perspective! such a good, well thought out fic with lots of healthy comminication <33

APRIL

if i stare too long by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | stranger things, harringroveson | explicit | 191k words

i haven't seen st s4 (and probably won't watch it) but that definitely won't stop me from reading harringroveson fic. i mean, who wouldn't look at those three and immediately want to see them together. the way their dynamic is written in this fic is peak, i don't even know what more to say. i also very much trust these authors with billy, and again i wasn't disappointed. there's just something in his head that's intriguing.

spreadsheet notes: this whole fic is such a vibe it makes me feel of hot summer chillin

MAY

Rewrite the Stars (series) by @in-amor-veritas | young royals, wilmon | mature | 137k words

definitely one of the highlights of the year, simon's whole life in new york... those scenes, they just show such a wonderful life simon has built for himself, and his relationship with wille doesn't change it, but he manages to fit in (after, you know, fun rom-com drama shenanigans). also. this is a kid fic. kid fics are my weak spot. rasmus is my new favourite little guy. also shoutout to luis best side character ever

spreadsheet notes: YELLING i love this fic sooo much it is everything

Where The Wind Will Carry Me by @1-life-to-give | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 49k words

AND THEY WERE ACTORS PLAYING LOVE INTERESTS. do i have to say more? the tension guys the TENSION. also erik's side-plot i'm in love

spreadsheet notes: hopping up and down like a hyperactive chihuahua EN I LOVE THIS

Your love is my turning page (the t4t wilmon as girldads au) (series) by @willesworld | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 17k words

i know i know another kid fic BUT!!!! t4t wilmon. makes it automatically superior. i'm not even kidding, add trans characters and i will like your fic (that i probably already like a lot) aroun 300000000 times more. but also this series comes for your feelings. it hits

spreadsheet notes: i am weak for t4t wilmon AND them having a biological child there's something so beautiful about it like that could be meeee ; siiimon i need to hug him and i need to hug wille they're gonna get out of this i prommy ; recovery and one step forwards a hundred steps back, but they made it there in the end ; they were so happy :((((

JUNE

A trace of dew by nuncflore | elden ring, this is too complicated | gen | 13k words

very elden ring-esque writing style, wonderful representation of whatever the hell is going on in the lore. hehehehehhe fucked up family ehhehehehe DIVORCE. my friends are so talented :))

spreadsheet notes: CAP I AM EATING YOU

Hanging from the Ceiling by @spicymiilk | spiderverse | teen&up | 6k words

for like. a week after i saw the new spiderverse movie i made miles 42 my entire life. that also meant reading this fic. and damn did this fic hit. i am still thinking about it

spreadsheet notes: i need more miles 42 content he is my favourite guy ever

The Darkest Little Paradise by @yourdemiurge | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 79k words

*holding you at gunpoint* read this fic. read it now, in this moment. you are not gonna regret it. believe me when i say you NEED this fic, you really do. doesn't even matter if you've seen yr or not. you're gonna thank me later

spreadsheet notes: THIS IS INSANE I CAN'T BREATHE MADY WHAT THE FUUUUUCK

JULY

Protected (series) by bastuba | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 69k words

hey do you ever read a fic and you just feel. so incredibly grounded because something about the characters feels grounded? like, they aren't grounded, but they still give off that vibe? idk how to explain this properly but that's this fic. also wille and simon cook together (i haven't read all parts of the series yet btw)

spreadsheet notes: incredibly grounded very mature how is wille like this ; i'd be like wille, always complaining about the heat ; they're soooooo. idiots. getting tattoos for each other ; i too would come out on a podcast about food ; SAFE SEX

AUGUST

The Season of Rebirth by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant | young royals, wilmon | mature | 30k words

part of a series, but i'm picking out this one specifically because it's soooo sweet!!! the title fits the fic so well, like yes it is the season of rebirth, but simon and wille's relationship is also rehashed in a very cool way, this fic is like one giant easter egg, i love it so much!

spreadsheet notes: wille taking the season of rebirth to recreate their early relationship, i am obsessed with him he's such a dumbass romantic

The Upgrade by @groenendaelfic | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 13k words

it's about the moment simon realises who wille is. that's why this fic is here. i mean of course also because it is very good, but mainly because of that moment

spreadsheet notes: the moment simon realised who wille is i am wheezing

Right Where You Left Me by @armandgender | spn, deancas | explicit | 94k words

if you're wondering why this fic is on my 2023 list instead of the 2022 list.... well that's because it took me almost a year to read the last chapter, and in terms of how my spreadsheet works, that makes it a fic i read in 2023. anyway. if you haven't read this fic yet, what are you even still doing here. click on that link right now. you want complex emotional situations? intricacies of ill-advised marriages? you wanna pick through abusive behaviour and encourage infidelity? well you're at the right place! also this has one of my favourite jack characterisations ever. it also made me go on multiple rants

spreadsheet notes: I FINALLY FINISHED IT AAAAHHHH I LOVE THIS FIC THE CABIN THE CATS JACK!!!!!

Alejito y Marimar (series) by th0ughts | red, white, and royal blue | teen&up | 18k words

OBSESSED WITH THIS DYNAMIC YOOOOOO. seriously the friendship between alex and martha is an expansion of the rwrb universe that is much needed, trust me

spreadsheet notes: the friendship i didn't know i needed in my life <333 ; they're just chillin!!!

SEPTEMBER

Change of Address (series) by hearmerory | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 134k words

okay. oooookay. strap in for this one, it is a lot. emotionally. like yes zuko is autistic, yes yes yeeees, i agree, also azula is treated like an actual person with actual mental issues, she deserves to be treated with care and this author definitely does that! this is the kind of series that makes me want to disappear in it, but it's also the kind of story i need breaks from, because it is so heavy (definitely check the tags for this one). zuko's relationship with sokka is written so thoughtfully and iroh is characterised incredibly and the author even included ursa in a way that didn't undermine everything that happened in the series before she appeared again. i can only recommend this one!

spreadsheet notes (there's lots of parts to the series, so this one is long): hhhh if i were ms jamieson i would have snapped after two days probably ; be nice katara!!!!! he's nervous ; i need to murder ozai ; and i need to murder zhao as well ; iroooohhhhh he should have just. taken the kids with him that first time he noticed something off ; yeah i think there was a reason why iroh never took zuko to the movies ; ozai needs to suffer ; i need to destroy ozai. violently and painfully ; iroh is the best uncle ever, zuko deserves all his kindness ; azula...... you don't have to fight for affection, it's not a competition..... they love you ; iroh should have taken her with him the first time around, she was like. 10, he could have just picked her up or sth ; ..... hakoda you idiot ; IROH BACKSTORY IROH BACKSTORY ; sokka and the plan that changed his life <3333 ; they are so soft with each other ; they all deserve all the therapy and support and yes sokka obviously you have adhd get with the program ; URSA??????? also i am living for sokka and azula's dynamic they are everything ; i don't. i don't understand her. i don't fucking understand her how could she not want her own children. how can she talk about them like that. like she knows them she doesn't know them she LEFT

Every night my teeth are falling out by @sulkybender | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 9k words

i was in need of some good zuko angst and oooohhh boy was i lucky to find this author. PEAK zuko angst. this fic in particular is very dear to me because it explores how mental illnesses would be handled in a world where there's practically no resources to help. i think we need that more

spreadsheet notes: yes well. how DO you deal with a schizophrenic fire lord in a fantasy world? (you stay with him and support him that is how)

OCTOBER

for years or for hours by @ghostinthelibrarywrites | the witcher, geralt/eskel/jaskier | explicit | 52k words

listennn i love myself some good polyamory fics, and this is the first fic i read for this ship and now i am OBSESSED with them. but this fic in particular.... the concept alone, like. what do you do when you thought the man you love was dead for 800 years, and then when he comes back you have another man you love. the answer is simple. polyamory. the two men you love also love each other. perfect coincidence.

spreadsheet notes: YO the concepts of witchers in modern times alone is sooo cool but adding in everything else? hello yes?

this is a love story by @achillestiel | supernatural, deancas | mature | 3k words

listen, i've never seen fleabag, but that's not the point. this is intriguing and funny, that's the point

spreadsheet notes: fucked up families and you want to fuck the priest hell yeah

The road not taken looks real good now by @stretchoutfics | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 90k words

it's not even the wilmon part i love about this fic (i very much enjoy it of course don't get me wrong) but wille and his kids. like, i don't want to spoil anything but like. wille's interactions with his kids are so important in this fic, and they're written so well. like, emilia is my favourite character in this, i kinda wish there was more with the kids honestly. this fic is definitely a highlight of the year, and to get back to wilmon, i do love how they're portrayed in this fic, how their dynamic plays out, and specifically how certain decisions do not depend on simon

spreadsheet notes: no but. the care put into this story. i can't--

NOVEMBER

Averno (series) by @sulkybender | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 12k words

a fascinating take on a fire lord zuko that was never part of the gaang

spreadsheet notes: HE JUST DESERVES KINDNESS but also he's a little fucked up WELL NO WONDER GIVE HIM KINDNESS ; i mean.... what makes a monster really ; well then let's get him out of his cell shall we (also hiiiii suki hello <3333)

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by @hmslusitania | 9-1-1, buddie | teen&up | 34k words

another kid fic!!! but in a different fandom this time!!! seriously, giving buck a child fills so many of my life's needs it's ridiculous

spreadsheet notes: THEY'RE A FAMILY (thank you for giving that man a child)

a soldier (who carries a mighty sword) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites | the witcher, geralt/eskel/jaskier | explicit | 92k words

everything about this fic is wonderful!! the world(kaer morhen!!)building, the developing dynamic between geralt, jask, and eskel, ciri and yenn, the conflict, jask as a teacher!!!! aaahhhhh!

spreadsheet notes: they're my new favourite guyssss this whole fic is so cool, what they've done with kaer morhen <3333

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic & VSfic | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | teen&up | 143k words

this fic asks what if sokka had been stuck with zuko since the end of s1 and delivers a delightful answer. this is the adventures of zuko and sokka (and sometimes iroh) travelling through the earth kingdom. shenanigans ensue

spreadsheet notes: i am obsessed with this i'm just. i know it was only shortly but their life in ba sing se. obsessed

DECEMBER

Grudge Match by @catcas22 | elden ring | gen | 17k words

i'm not entirely sure how to explain this. it sure is an elden ring fic

spreadsheet notes: i don't even know what to say. this is ridiculous and brilliant and stupid and genius all at the same time. hell yeah suburban demigods

Lonely Digging by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | stranger things, harringrove | teen&up | 3k words

this is hilarious. go read it to unlock intense life-threatening flirting

spreadsheet notes: best way to flirt billy's doing everything right

***

(quick note: i’ve tried to find everyone’s tumblr handle, but i’m aware that not all the authors have tumblr/have it on their ao3, however if i somehow missed someone, i can go back and rectify that!)

if you’ve made it all the way down here i am giving you a kiss <3

#pigeon coos #fic reading shenanigans #fic rec #ALL THE LOVE TO FIC WRITERS YOU GUYS ARE DOING AMAZING!!!!

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 1 year ago

Text

@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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