#point dread and talon fighter

[kollectorsrus]

[1980sactionfigures]

Point Dread & Talon Fighter - Masters of the Universe (Mattel)

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@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

[mousedroid-hoojib]

Masters Of The Universe Origins Point Dread and Talon Fighter, and Skeletor and Screeech

[shelsaef17]

Mattel: Masters of the Universe Origins Point Dread and Talon Fighter First Look

Look, I collect a lot of action figure lines, and if I am going to... from https://ift.tt/WZaJjyQ

[toyjunkie]

TALON FIGHTER & POINT DREAD – Masters of the Universe Origins (MotU)

[david-talks-sw]

George Lucas’ Sequel Trilogy

Here’s what George Lucas had to say about the outlines he handed Disney, as he told to Paul Duncan, in 2019, who then reported it in The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005. I re-ordered some quotes for coherency.

“Episode VII, VIII, and IX would take ideas from what happened after the Iraq War. “Okay, you fought the war, you killed everybody, now what are you going to do?” Rebuilding afterwards is harder than starting a rebellion or fighting the war.”

“The movies are about how Leia — I mean, who else is going to be the leader? — is trying to build the Republic. They still have the apparatus of the Republic but they have to get it under control from the gangsters. That was the main story. It starts out a few years after Return of the Jedi and we establish pretty quickly that there’s this underworld, there are these offshoot stormtroopers who started their own planets, and that Luke is trying to restart the Jedi.”

“He puts the word out, so out of 100,000 Jedi, maybe 50 or 100 are left. The Jedi have to grow again from scratch, so Luke has to find two- and three-year-olds, and train them. It’ll be 20 years before you have a new generation of Jedi. By the end of the trilogy Luke would have rebuilt much of the Jedi, and we would have the renewal of the New Republic, with Leia, Senator Organa, becoming the Supreme Chancellor in charge of everything. So she ended up being the Chosen One.”

“When you win the war and you disband the opposing army, what do they do? The stormtroopers would be like Saddam Hussein’s Ba'athist fighters that joined ISIS and kept on fighting. The stormtroopers refuse to give up when the Republic win. They want to be stormtroopers forever, so they go to a far corner of the galaxy, start their own country and their own rebellion.”

“There’s a power vacuum so gangsters, like the Hutts, are taking advantage of the situation, and there is chaos. The key person is Darth Maul, who had been resurrected in The Clone Wars cartoons — he brings all the gangs together. […] Darth Maul trained a girl, Darth Talon, who was in the comic books, as his apprentice. She was the new Darth Vader, and most of the action was with her. So these were the two main villains of the trilogy. Maul eventually becomes the godfather of crime in the universe because, as the Empire falls, he takes over.”

We also know the films would’ve been about the microcosm of the Force. It would’ve touched on the Whills and *gasp* the midi-chlorians. The dreaded M-word...!

During an interview published in James Cameron’s Story of Science Fiction, he said:

“[The next three ‘Star Wars’ films] were going to get into a microbiotic world. But there’s this world of creatures that operate differently than we do, Lucas said. I call them the Whills. And the Whills are the ones who actually control the universe. They feed off the Force.”

So that’s all Lucas said publicly about his sequels.

That said: this version was not the final outline of George’s sequels.

Like, sure, it’s very likely the draft that was given to Disney, but the point is that: it didn’t stop there.

For a short time, George helped develop the Sequels with Disney.

The treatments he had given Disney were then reworked by screenwriter Michael Arndt (who had already started discussing this with Lucas before and after he sold LucasFilm). Unclear when they were all brought in (with Arndt, after Arndt?) but eventually Simon Kinberg, Lawrence Kasdan and J.J. Abrams too also came in on the writing side of things, and restarted from scratch.

We know, from Arndt, LucasFilm Senior Content & Asset Specialist Phil Szostak, Concept Artist Christian Alzmann and LucasFilm executive Pablo Hidalgo, that by late-2012/early-2013, Lucas was still somewhat involved in the development process of the Sequels.

The book The Art of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, gives us indications and early concept art of what would’ve happened, in Arndt and Lucas’ version:

1- The character who would become Rey

The protagonist was still a female aspiring Jedi. Her name changed a lot, including Winkie, Taryn, Thea and eventually Kira.

She finds Luke, and he decides to come back from exile and train her.

2- Luke Skywalker

Speaking of which: Luke is in exile, described by Lucas as a “a Col. Kurtz type hiding from the world in a cave”, in self-imposed exile & spiritually in “a dark place”. The “why” of his exile wasn’t ever explained. 

Christian Alzmann, among other concept artists, illustrated this, and one of his images (left) received a “fabouloso” stamp by Lucas.

Other concept artists tried to illustrate the First Jedi Temple, some of them got approved by Lucas, such as one from James Clyne (below).

Also, Luke still died in Episode 8. In fact, that whole arc from TLJ, of Luke being exiled but being convinced by the female lead to return and get back in the fight, was already there.

The BIG difference was that the ‘exile and return’ part of that arc both happened in Episode 7, not 8. And then he would’ve died heroically in Episode 8. So instead of having Luke for one movie, we would’ve had him for two whole movies.

3- Other characters

Darth Talon was in it, aka the Jedi Killer. She seduces the son of Han and Leia to the Dark Side. 

Talon worked for a big villain called “Uber” (who may have been Maul in previous drafts, or maybe even still was Maul, only under a code-name). Eventually this character became Snoke.

However, the son of Han and Leia would’ve turned to the Dark Side in the movies, rather than already being on the Dark Side when the first movie started.

In some versions of the story, the son was named Skylar (or Skyler), who was a tag team with Kira.

After Lucas was no longer involved, Skylar eventually developed into Finn (a scoundrel/pirate archetype that tag teams with Kira) and Ben (the son of Han & Leia), now the Jedi Killer instead of Talon.

Also, Harrison Ford told GQ Magazine that Lucas asked him to come back to play Han for Episode 7, even though Solo would die in that same episode. Whether or not Han dying was still in Lucas’ mind when he worked on the treatments is unclear.

So yeah, there were some similarities with what we actually got (Han and Leia’s child falling to the Dark Side, Luke being in exile, training an aspiring Jedi, dying in Ep. 8, Han dying in Ep. 7).

Other relevant quotes:

[sylverstorms]

Daniela x Maiden ----Haunted

Commission for the wonderful @uni--tea that I received on Ko-Fi. Thank you so much for all the support. I have no words ❣

Normally, you take pride in your self-control.

Both physically and mentally, you have a solid grip on you at any given moment. It is a trait that has helped you throughout numerous situations in your life so far and you're certain it will only continue to do so in the future.

But.

At the same time, the fear of losing this hallmark –your greatest strength— is always there, right under your skin. It hides its ugly shadow behind your confidence's light. Never gone. Never lessened.

Because you know just how easy it is for that control to shatter. You know it takes next to nothing to bring to the forefront everything you took years suppressing, locking in the deepest part of your psyche.

Perhaps it is one of the reasons why you dread living in the castle. Stimuli that can set you off lies everywhere. A maiden's cry. A whimper. Pools of blood.

Then it all goes to hell for you.

That is how it happens again; with a girl's scream down the corridor.

Your body automatically rushes towards the sound –a questionable response, you're aware— yet by the time you get there it is already too late.

She has made the mistake of opening a door you all know not to and stepped into the courtyard. Perhaps prompted by an outside sound into the foolish action, or perhaps seeking her freedom at any cost. All she finds is her death, in the form of a flying creature's claws sunk deep through her flesh.

You see a fountain of crimson as the creature attempts to fly away with the corpse, talons digging further in for a better grip, as if through butter. Your first instinct is to leap forward to save her. Save what you can. Whatever is left.

Your body has other ideas. You find that you freeze, instead, unable to will yourself even a single step forward. Your hands are shaking, the entire world is tilting before your very eyes. Gravity magnifies; you drop to your knees, weak, useless, while the shriek of the retreating monstrosity blares through your brain.

Your heart, you feel, is one pound away from breaking in your chest.

The castle fades away into your old home. You are trapped in a fragile, twelve-year-old body again, watching the man your parents healed rip away at them with a kitchen knife. You see the spray of red at every downward slash of the blade. Then the door is kicked down, the police is rushing in, there is so much noise—

Yet rather than a door slamming open, you hear a soft click. A casual slide of bars, followed by a familiar, soft voice;

“Oh, no. Another one's kicked the bucket. Mother will not be pleased.” A deep huff comes. “You'll tell her I had nothing to do with it if she asks, won't you, my Knight?”

Even in your panic attack, you recognize Daniela's nickname for you. Except this time, it rings so false to your ears the sensation is almost acidic.

Knights are supposed to be beacons of bravery, but here you are, swallowed whole by your terrors. You are not courageous, no fighter and certainly no hero. Not where it really matters. You are nothing.

Nothing.

“Knight, I'm talking to you.” An impatient, cool finger hooks itself under your chin and forces you to look forward. The redhead has crouched down to your level, you realize, eyeing you closely, a tad irritated at your lack of response.

Shallow as it may be, it helps your case that her face is pretty as a fairytale. That her eyes glint amber instead of crazed blue. That there is no blood on her face or her clothes, this time. It helps that she's no man –even if she's a hundred times more dangerous than the memory of the killer that haunts you.

Your muscles gradually begin to unlock. Oxygen still feels lackluster, but at least you are no longer suffocating.

“You've gone pale.” she observes, leaning a tad closer.

The finger used to trap your chin ends up caressing your jawline, in a touch gentler than anything you would have ever expected from her. The chill of her skin is— soothing.

Your eyes close.

Daniela does not stop there, though. She gradually slides closer, practically climbing onto your thighs while her head tucks in the crook of your neck. You don't know what she's doing or why, but...

Her hand has moved slightly down, to lazily trace shapes on your neck. She smells so good, flesh out of a bath, no doubt, and she feels criminally nice in your arms. You are only human; you will take comfort where you can.

“It's unbelievably cute that you were so worried about me you froze up like that, my Knight!” she exclaims, ending your confusion there.

You want to facepalm, but that may result in death so you only let out a faint sigh, instead. In all honesty, you should have suspected what was going through her head would not be anything remotely based on reality.

That being said... Daniela Dimitrescu, of all people –mutants, vampires, whatever category she falls under— did pull you out of a panic attack.

Why burst her bubble? you muse as you carefully wrap your arms around her slender waist, a non-verbal ‘thank you’ for the help she will never be aware she gave you.

She seems to like the gesture.

A tad too much, because her grip tightens to a point that makes your very bones protest.

“Ugh, Daniela... I can't...”

“Aw, you can't bear to lose me?” she giggles by your ear and the sound really shouldn't be that endearing when she's crushing you.

“Well, I—” How do you explain that is not the case without signing your own death sentence?

Daniela, by some miracle of the universe, pulls back, keeping her dainty hands idle on your shoulders. She looks straight into your eyes, her own glowing like stars.

“Tell me more~”

[ravenqueensspecialboi]

Home With You

Fandom: Haikyuu Ship: UshiTen Rating: T for talks of dragon slaying Creature: Dragons Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265073

For @kemoiunder as a part of the @fantasyhaikyuuexchange 2019!

Enjoy!

It was an easy enough task to accomplish, Ushijima Wakatoshi reasoned as he buckled the sword borrowed from the village armory around his waist.  No, that wasn't right.  It was an easy enough task to undertake.  Accomplishing it would be slightly more difficult.  There was a dragon, and it had to go.

It all started a year ago. A few farms about fifteen miles west side of the village reported smoke coming from the distant mountain.  Within days, the first cow went missing.  Taken from the pasture in broad daylight by something large and red, with wings like a bat.  The distraught farmer had traveled  to the village within a day, ranting about demons in the sky, but the villagers had brushed it off as the ravings of a man who had spent too much time in the sun.  Things remained quiet for another month, during which the cow was replaced and life returned to normal.  Then another cow disappeared, this time from a farm ten miles south from the village. This pattern continued for the remainder of the year – each month, a cow would vanish from a farm, and each farm was progressively closer to the village.  Most of the villagers had taken to watching the horizon, waiting for the telltale rush of wind beneath veiny wings and the haunting cry of cattle being lifted to their fiery demise.  A general feeling of dread and paranoia had settled over the village, leading to a decline in moral and productivity on the surrounding farms.  After much deliberation, the village leaders all agreed: Something had to be done.  The leaders of the village had put out a call to arms for any villager brave enough to face the dragon in the west.  Wakatoshi initially had ignored the call; he was a farmer to his very core, he wasn't one for fighting.  He would have happily let someone else go off to face the dragon if it hadn't been for one Goshiki Tsutomu.

Wakatoshi had brought on Goshiki Tsutomu as a farmhand the year before.  The boy was a few years younger than Wakatoshi, a quick study and more than eager to assist on the more difficult tasks around the farm.  He was more of a talker than Wakatoshi would have liked, and he had the tendency to seek validation for the smallest of things, but Wakatoshi enjoyed Goshiki's company nonetheless.  Which was why when Tsutomu's mother appeared on Wakatoshi's doorstep with tears in her eyes, Wakatoshi had known immediately that he was about to partake in something dangerous.

"Ushijima… my son, Tsumotu, he… he volunteered to go slay the dragon," the woman had sobbed, her brown eyes so much like her son's red from hours of crying.

Without a word, Wakatoshi had rushed to the village.  Upon arriving at the village's castle, he'd pushed his way into the council chamber, ignoring the guards' demands for him to stop.  Wakatoshi only stopped once he reached the center of the leaders' chamber, placing a hand on the trembling shoulder of Goshiki Tsutomu.

"I will take Goshiki's place," Wakatoshi had announced to the village leaders. "I will take care of the dragon."

The Elders had muttered amongst themselves before a smaller man with white hair got to his feet.  Elder Washijou was the oldest of the village leaders, and had known Wakatoshi since he was a child.  Of all the villagers, Wakatoshi was his favorite, not that he would ever say it out loud.  He had eyed Wakatoshi, then sighed heavily.

"This is no small task, Ushijima," Elder Washijou said.  "Are you sure you want to undertake this task?"

"I am," Wakatoshi replied.  "Goshiki is too young to go."

"I agree with you on that point," Washijou murmured, ignoring the undignified squawk from Goshiki.  He rubbed his chin, lost in thought for a moment before he continued, "Do you have a sword?  Armor?"

"Neither."

"You can take some from the armory," Washijou said.  "We expect you to return it upon successful completion of your mission."

And so Wakatoshi set about preparing for his task.  The mission was simple enough.  Venture to the mountain to the west, slay the dragon, and return to the village with its head as proof.  Simple. The armor would take some getting used to; Wakatoshi had never had to wear it before, and the unfamiliar weight left him feeling uneasy despite his naturally broad stature.  The sword was even more unfamiliar, and as he strapped it about his weight, Wakatoshi found himself hopping he wouldn't have to use it. He was a farmer, not a fighter. But he had intervened on Goshiki's behalf, he had to follow through on this.  Wakatoshi packed enough food to last the week long trek to the mountain, strapped the heavier parts of the armor to his pack, then left the village on his horse without so much as a backwards glance.  

By horseback, the trip had taken less time than Wakatoshi had estimated, but the five days' ride had given him plenty of time to think.  By himself, Wakatoshi didn't stand a chance against the dragon.  If the dragon was easily carrying away cattle, what could one man do against it?  The armor would provide him with some defense, but the reality was an army would have been better than a solo man.  Maybe he had been a little too rash in his decision to volunteer.  But if he hadn't, Goshiki would have been the one to go, and Wakatoshi would be able to handle himself for longer than Goshiki would have been able to.  He would just need to come up with a solid plan before he reached the mountain.

The plan never quite came to Wakatoshi by the time he reached the mountain.  Everything he envisioned ended in dragon fire, or a long fall with a sudden stop off of the side of the mountain. Still, he had made it, and it was time to act.  Wakatoshi dismounted his horse, strapped the remaining armor to his body, and set his horse back on track to the village.  He watched it go for a while, then turned back to the mountain with a determined nod.  He had a dragon to find.

It took Wakatoshi several hours to find the path to the dragon's cave, and another day to follow it to the cave.  He knew that he had found the correct trail once the cow skeletons started appearing in abundance.  Half a mile from the cave, he slowed to a crawl, trying once again to formulate a plan and once again failing to come up with something more productive than 'Catch it off guard and hope you can kill it in one clean stroke'.  It wasn't much of a plan, but it really was all he had.

There was a clearing at the top of the path, just before the cave.  Cow skeletons littered the charred ground, and for the first time, Wakatoshi felt dread well up in his chest.  He had been worried about his chance before, but for the first time he felt an acute sense of fear.

"Did they really send someone to find me?" came a deep voice from the dark cave, jerking Wakatoshi from his thoughts.  So much for the element of surprise.

"Show yourself, lizard," Wakatoshi called, unsheathing the sword.  He could feel the temperature rise as he crossed the clearing, swallowing his fear with each step,

"Lizard, huh?" the voice rumbled, amusement obvious.  The ground rumbled beneath Wakatoshi's feet as something large, far larger than anything Wakatoshi had ever experienced dragged itself to the front of the cave until at last, it came into view.  "I supposed I've been called worse."

The dragon towered above Wakatoshi, all sharp spines and glinting burgundy scales.  Bored, crimson eyes flashed dangerously as the dragon tilted its head to the left, then to the right, taking in Wakatoshi.  After a moment, it reached one taloned hand towards Wakatoshi.  Wakatoshi took a step backwards, his foot crushing a loose bone as he retreated from the dragon.

"Get back," he commanded, his voice surprisingly level.

The dragon snorted, a stream of fire bursting forth from its nostrils.  "There's no need for that," the dragon said.  "I just wanted to take a closer look at my would be killer."

Wakatoshi tightened his grip on his sword and the dragon chuckled.

"Do you have a name, Sir Knight?  I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Wakatoshi eyed the dragon; dragons weren't supposed to be this cordial, were they?  "My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi."

"Ushijima Wakatoshi," the dragon repeated.  "Well, Wakatoshi-kun, you may call me Satori.  Now tell me, why are you here?"

"I'm here to make sure you never bother my village again," Wakatoshi replied, his unease returning in full force.

"Is that so?" the dragon asked.  "Tell me, why are you here to kill me?"

"Yes."

The dragon—Satori—tilted his head.  "Why?"

"My village sent me to."

"Because I took a few cattle?  All things need to eat, Wakatoshi-kun, and I only take my fill once a month."

Wakatoshi frowned, weighing his options.  It was true that the dragon—Satori—had only taken livestock for food.  None of the villagers had been harmed directly.  But if he left the dragon alive, would he eventually start taking humans?  Wakatoshi doubted humans had more nutritional value for a dragon than a cow or a sheep, but could he really be confident enough in that line of thought to risk letting the dragon live?

"You sure are taking your time deciding if you want to kill me, Wakatoshi-kun," the dragon purred.  "Planning on letting me live?"

Wakatoshi glared at the dragon—Satori.  He didn't like that the dragon seemed to know what he was thinking.  That he could get into Wakatoshi's head like that. Could dragons read minds?  Maybe they could, maybe they couldn't, Wakatoshi didn't know.  What he did know was that this dragon—Satori—seemed to be willing to negotiate.

"Promise me you won't steal from the village again," Wakatoshi said.

Satori tilted his head again.  If it could have raised a brow, Wakatoshi was sure he would have.

"What's in it for me if I do?" he asked.

"I won't kill you."

Satori let out a snort, this time hot smoke erupted from his nostrils and swirled around Wakatoshi before dissipating into the evening light.

"You drive a hard bargain, Wakatoshi-kun," the dragon sneered, "but you and I both know that you don't know how to use that sword.  Well, I don't know, but I'm sure my guess is correct."

With a scowl, Wakatoshi shoved the sword into the ground.  He knew Washijou would be displeased if he found out, but in the moment, Wakatoshi didn't care.  He couldn't kill, but he could negotiate.

"What would it take for you to never bother my village again?" Wakatoshi asked.

Satori hummed, another low rumble, but softer than the previous ones had been.  He slowly extended his head towards Wakatoshi until they were face to eye.  Wakatoshi stood his ground as the blank crimson eye examined his face.

"Tell you what, Wakatoshi-kun," Satori purred, "if you keep me company for a whole week without trying to kill me, I will never bother your village again."

Wakatoshi glared at the dragon.  It wouldn't be ideal to spend any longer away from his farm than he had to, but if it meant that Satori would never bother the village again….

"Deal."

Wakatoshi had never seen a dragon grin before, but the way Satori's mouth stretched to reveal a row of fangs the size and sharpness of swords, he never wanted to again.

***

The following week was nothing that Wakatoshi could have anticipated.  After agreeing to Satori's terms, the dragon had led Wakatoshi deep into the heart of the mountain, leading him through the intricate cave system to an underground oasis, the remains of an ancient underground temple, Satori explained.  Wakatoshi hadn't bothered to ask Satori to clarify, having been too entranced by the pools of water that glowed under the lights of the strange mushrooms on the walls. Inside the pools were nearly translucent fish with unseeing eyes.

"They're edible," Satori had told him the first night of his stay.

"Why don't you eat those instead?" Wakatoshi had asked.

"As if something so small could sustain me," Satori had scoffed in reply.

The first day was spent outside of the temple, listening to Satori talk about his life.  Satori had been born to a large flock of dragons 500 years previous.  About 100 years ago, he had split from his flock and had been traveling from mountain range to mountain range before settling into his current cave system a year previously.  He was a rare breed of dragon, one that could shapeshift, but only once in a lifetime. He had never tried it, not wanting to become stuck in a form he would later regret.  Wakatoshi told Satori about his own life.  How his family was one of the wealthier farming families in the village, how he was an only child now left in charge as his parents were too old to work.  His stories weren't as fanciful as Satori's, but Satori seemed endlessly amused by the fact that Wakatoshi was left-handed.

The following two days, Wakatoshi explored the derelict temple.  Only a handful of walls remained standing, exposing the remaining structure to the cave around it.  Satori elected to stay outside the temple, but kept a running commentary on things as Wakatoshi explored what remained.  Wakatoshi learned that it was from a time when dragons were revered as gods, a bygone age that Satori wished he could have seen.  Wakatoshi wasn't entirely sure if Satori was telling him the truth, but he enjoyed the dragon's stories nonetheless.  And when he lost his footing on a particularly weathered staircase, he was pleasantly surprised to find a clawed hand was waiting to catch him.

"Watch yourself, Wakatoshi-kun," Satori had chuckled as he placed Wakatoshi on more solid ground.  "If you were to die here, I don't think your replacement would be as much fun as you are."

On the fourth day, Satori led Wakatoshi back through the cave system.  He showed him all of the significant identifiers so that Wakatoshi could find his way back to the temple, then left him to find his own way back. It took Wakatoshi the better part of the day to make it back to the oasis, but he could have sworn Satori looked proud to see him emerge through the curtain of moss that separated the cave system from the oasis.  It was a nice feeling, if Wakatoshi were being honest.

The remainder of the week followed in much the same way, and before Wakatoshi knew it, the week was over. It crept up on Wakatoshi, as he had no way of tracking the rising and setting of the sun in the cave.  But Satori knew, and true to his word, on the seventh day he brought Wakatoshi back to the clearing in front of the cave.  Night had fallen by the time they reached the surface.  The sword stood in the middle of the clearing, right where Wakatoshi had left it. He crossed to the sword and pulled it from the ground, sheathing it.  He was stalling, he knew it, he just couldn't figure out why.

"Well, a promise is a promise," Satori said.  "You stayed with me for a week, and you didn't try to kill me.  After I take you back, I'll never bother your village again."

Wakatoshi frowned, "What if you…"

"Stayed with you?" Satori finished.

Wakatoshi turned towards the dragon, not daring to let his enthusiasm for the idea show on his face. "You could shapeshift into a human."

Satori shook his head. "Your village would never accept me, even as a human," he said.  "I'm a cattle-eating monster."

"I could stay here," Wakatoshi offered, his voice lacking conviction.

Again, Satori shook his head.  Instead, he extended a hand towards Wakatoshi.  Wakatoshi stepped onto the offered hand, letting the dragon place him gently on his back.  Satori waited until Wakatoshi had a solid grip on one of his spinal ridges before launching into the air.  Wind whipped around Wakatoshi as he gripped the spine harder, his eyes widening as the ground vanished beneath them.  Satori shot above the mountain, twirling lazily before straightening out and beginning the trek eastward.  It was a cloudless night, the moon bathing the countryside below in a soft silver light as it rushed beneath them.  The light bounced off of Satori's scales and Wakatoshi's breath caught in his throat at the beauty of it all.

The flight back to the village only lasted an hour, but Wakatoshi counted it among both the best and hours of his life.  One that he committed to memory from the door to his farmhouse as he watched the dragon disappear into the nighttime.

***

The village elders hadn't been pleased at the lack of a tangible dragon head, but Washijou had gotten them off Wakatoshi's back after a month passed with no dragon sightings. Wakatoshi returned to his farm, and all of the mundane tasks that came with it.  Goshiki returned to the farm as well, along with a handful of other boys from the village who were awed by Wakatoshi and his escapades.  Wakatoshi hadn't shared his story with the village, but after a fortnight-long absence, the village had come up with their own stories. It was fine by Wakatoshi, they could have their stories.  As long as what actually happened stayed with him and him alone.

Still, Wakatoshi found himself longing for the cave in the mountain as a month became two, then four, then twelve.  Or rather, he found himself missing the flash of red scales out of the corner of his eye. The low rumble of laughter that filled his ribcage.  The crimson gaze that only seemed to light up around him.  The thought of what could have been.

***

Wakatoshi had always been a light sleeper, being a farmer required that much.  So when someone came knocking on his door in the middle of the night, Wakatoshi was quick to rise and answer it.  Wakatoshi lit a few lanterns, ignoring the incessant knocking on his door in favor of being able to see when he did answer it.  Once the room was bathed in soft candlelight, Wakatoshi answered the door.

Standing below the porch was a tall man draped in loose, dark clothing.  His dark red hair stood on end, and his lazy, crimson eyes lit up as he took in Wakatoshi.  Wakatoshi felt his heart leap to his throat as he took in the man's appearance.

"Hello, Wakatoshi-kun," Satori said.  " I hope the offer to stay with you is still available."

Without a word, Wakatoshi grabbed Satori by the arms.  He pulled him into a crushing embrace, burying his face in the dark red hair. Even as a human, Satori smelled like fire.

"Welcome home," Wakatoshi murmured.

Satori's arms circled Wakatoshi's shoulders, squeezing him tight, and for the first time in a year, Wakatoshi felt complete.

[karltface]

Behold the majesty of the Talon Fighter, perched atop Point Dread. One of the most valuable vehicles in the line (largely due to the fragility of Point Dread's cardboard insert and book/record set), it's a personal favorite of mine. I lack the aforementioned paper goods, which is the only reason I got it at an affordable price. Supposedly a legendary conveyance from ancient times, it debuted with little fanfare, though it was used sparingly.

The stickers here are very well-applied for a vintage toy, and contain some amusing easter eggs, specifically the clipboard and flyswatter. Also, take note of the handle, presumably added because even with adult hands, it's awkward as hell to hold otherwise. A nice touch.

I'm pretty sure it's the only 2-seater in the line, which is too bad, given how often things like the Wind Raider and Attak Trak were depicted with multiple passengers in various media.

If one has a Castle Greyskull handy (oddly, I don't), the top half of the base attaches to one of the turrets, looking fancy, if a tad unbalanced.

Overall, it's about as iconic an example of Eternian aesthetic as one could hope for, in spite of its obscurity, pleasantly large, and a hell of a bonus if you have Greyskull.

[collectivedreamscapes-moved]

the FUC - people

This group was once known as the DNK. The origin comes from early posting on message forums.  Main Renee and others were posting under the name "Kindred Dreamers".  Donna Marie came along and was disgusted.  She considers most of the rest of the Realms to be "fluffy bunnies".  She and her group started posting under "Dreamers NOT Kindred".  So we started calling them the DNK.  With so many changes going on in our system the DNK decided they wanted to be known as the FUC : The Fuck U Crew.  This change also affects the Renegades, who are more than happy with the name change. Really, it fits most of their personalities much better than DNK ever did. Donna Marie heads this group, along with TomaHawk and Gryphon.  The FUC are pretty much enforcers.  They patrolled the Settlement with the Tiger Clan after the destruction of the Labyrinth during the period of martial law. At one point, the FUC worked closely with the Shadow Sisters, and because of this, they have access to parts of the Shadowlands.

Donna Marie is 17 and rayna's identical twin (despite the age difference).  She was among the first group of people main Renee learned about.  She is one of the FUC triad, the three who run the FUC.  In the past, she was the one who was most vocal about staying loyal to the family, she was behind a lot of the way the FUC enforced compliance to family rules and would instigate physical fights.  In everything she did, though, was the awareness that she was trying to keep all of us safe.  She was very vocal in getting main Renee to go to the hospital when it was necessary.  She also warned outside others "don't fuck with my system mates, they've been through enough shit." She has turned out to be an incredible protector and now, though she does work to keep people in line, she doesn't use the same tactics we grew up with. Gryphon is the second of the FUC triad.  He's almost always seen hanging out with TomaHawk, the third member of the FUC triad.  Gryphon is short and stocky with red hair, freckles and green eyes.  He's got an attitude, like most teens, although his tends towards gang mentality.  TomaHawk is about 6'1", muscled, and every inch a Cherokee warrior.  He wears his black hair long enough to hang down his back.  TomaHawk doesn't talk much.  He's mostly a silent presence.  Gryphon is usually the one who does the talking.  He used to be a terrible bully.  Since Donna Marie started changing things, though he is still rough and ready for a fight, he doesn't pick on people anymore.  Gryphon and TomaHawk are both about 16 or 17.  TomaHawk is Shy's brother Cutter is somewhere between 15 and 17.  She primarily cuts out of excessive anger and the inability to express it.  Since we've begun to learn other ways of expressing our anger she doesn't cut as much.  She used to be one of the more frightening members of the FUC to other insiders.  She still carries her pocketknife with her, although she hasn't threatened anyone with it for a long time. Bane and Blade are her younger brothers. The Informer is about 15 and primarily served as a narc.  She was usually the one who kept watch over people and told Donna Marie or Gryphon who was breaking the rules.  She's been pretty quiet of late. Talon is 15 and is Gryphon's sister.  Like Gryphon she's got red hair, though hers is darker and has black streaks dyed in it, and green eyes and has a temper.  She's definitely a fighter and is prone to violence.  She like combat boots, camo Ts and black wrist cuffs with metal spikes. She also likes Metallica. Treyvan is Tony's identical twin brother.  He's rougher around the edges than Tony is, much like most of the FUC.  But he definitely is loyal, to his brother and his crew.  He doesn't front as much as Tony does, though he will hang out in the Front Room when Tony's fronting.  When Tony went missing some time back Treyvan tore the place apart looking for him.  Also 19. There is at least one more teenager we know about who hangs out with the FUC but we don't know who they are or anything about them except that they are there.  We don't think they have ever fronted, but we could be wrong.

The renegades are unpredictable and tend to use physical force against the body and others in the system.  Malice almost broke the right hand of the body in early November of 2002.  Mostly the FUC live in the Settlement, but they have access to more areas than they are willing to admit to. Malice is the leader of the renegades.  When she first showed up she said she was about 17.  We have since learned that she and all of the renegades are between the ages of 10 and 13.  Malice is 10. As her name suggests, she has a lot of anger and tends to express it in some kind of physical way.  She used to be one of the more antagonistic system members, but she has directed a lot of her energy into protecting the lost teens and others in the Mountain Caves.  She's pretty much a pessimist and is still as argumentative as ever.  Physically she resembles Donna Marie with darker hair and eyes. Poison is Malice's right hand. She's about 10 or 11 and is usually nearby when Malice is.  She used to spread her "poison" everywhere she went in the form of mocking, derision and cruel taunts.  Now she keeps a lot of it to herself, unless she feels the need to let us know something she feels strongly about.  Poison is pale with black hair and dark eyes. Bane and Blade are 12 year old identical twins.  Currently they don't stay with the renegades, due to Malice's uncertain temper.  Bane once expressed his disapproval of the father and Malice wanted to kick his ass.  Tony became his guardian and Blade joined him in "exile" because he refused to be parted from his twin.  Nowadays they actually help out with some of the older kids of the castle.  Cutter is their older sister. They are bi-racial and wear their hair short.  They both have brown eyes. Guttersnipe, Fuck Off and Harass are all between 12 and 13.  They still cause significant mischief among the teens of the system.  All three boys dress much like thugs, talk much like thugs and behave the same way.  Malice is the only one who can keep them in line.  For whatever reason, they fear her more than anyone else.  If she tells them to do or don't do something, they usually do what Malice wants.  All three of them are black.  Guttersnipe has dreads, Fuck Off has an afro and Harass keeps his hair buzzed short. There is another group of between 3 and 5 kids, that seem to hang out with Malice and her crew, but aren't really FUC. We don't know their names, or why they are hanging with Malice and her crew, but we do know that they accused our half-brother of raping us.  

[qualiteadnd]

Into the Ziggurat

— A CHWINGA CHASERS ADVENTURE

With the city of Halarahh trying to reclaim its security in the area, High Priestess Amara requests her saviors assist in the recovery of an ancient relic.

In the days following their rescue of the priestess, Messenger and Sei’ku only saw glimpses of each other in passing around the University. Neither were the sort to seek companionship and so brief nods were all they shared.

( At one point in passing, however, Messenger chucked a small stone at Sei’ku, which the monk caught quickly between his talons. “You can use that better than me,” the warforged explained, leaving him with the clear spindle Ioun stone — a trinket that allowed its wearer to go without food and water when necessary. )

And neither were surprised to see the other after summons from the Netyarch arrived at each of their rooms.

Waiting for them in the hall before the Netyarch and her council was High Priestess Amara and a handsome elven man. “How familiar are you two with the history of this city?” the Netyarch asked once greetings were made.

Though they knew of the city’s recent return from planes unknown, the details of Halarahh’s history were lost on them.

“Yes, when the Spellplague began we feared what would happen. Measures were made to protect the people of Halarahh until it was safe to return. It worked, yes, but now we have the long task of reestablishing ourselves in our own lands. First and foremost, we need to rebuild the protections that once stood around this city.”

Amara turned to them and the elf. “There is a holy relic of ours protected deep in a ziggurat to the west. Scouts have reported activity in the area of the ziggurat and I fear what might have taken up residence there since we’ve been gone. Messenger, Sei’ku, both of you have proven yourselves capable at dealing with unwanted company. Kaireel has shown exemplary magics at the University and has already agreed to escort me into the ziggurat, but I would be amiss to not ask for your assistance.”

Like Messenger and Sei’ku, Kaireel was not native to the area, having traveled to the city to study. And while some of the Netyarch’s council seemed to believe the city’s own spellswords should be accompanying the priestess, Amara trusted Sei’ku, Messenger, and Kaireel as her guard for this mission.

With the warriors readily on board, the party agreed to set out at dawn.

Their travel to the ziggurat was mostly uninterrupted as they followed the eastern coast. A surprise attack by were-jackals in the night was avoided by Messenger’s unerring vigilance and the three fighters dispatched them with ease. While removing the bodies from their camp, Sei’ku asked Amara if she believed these were the same threats that awaited them in the ziggurat.

“No, I don’t think so. Honestly, I’ll be surprised if we find anything inside at all. The ziggurat is supposed to be highly guarded, it’s why our ancestors hid the Scarab down there to begin with. But scouts saw signs of yuan-ti residence there and that… that is concerning. The sooner we return the Scarab to Halarahh the better.”

Half reclaimed by the land around it with foliage clinging to the carved stones, the ziggurat they approached remained an imposing structure even after all these years. Amara explained that to reach the Scarab at the heart of the ancient tomb, they’d need to work their way down. After a brief rest at the foot of the ziggurat, they began the long climb — save for Sei’ku, whose wings allowed him to scout the entry above as they caught up.

Though Amara was prepared to crack the seal on the temple, the door at the top gave way easily, its mechanisms already opened. She sucked in a breath and glanced at the men with her. “That’s what I feared. Be on your guard, everyone.”

With a couple of cantrips cast to illuminate the way, they ventured down into the tomb. It’s abandonment was obvious in the dust and cobwebs they pushed through on the first tier, but they found soon enough they were not alone.

The ziggurat’s long term inhabitants were not happy to be disturbed and so Sei’ku, Messenger, and Kaireel faced off against the tomb’s mummified priests. Luckily, their Dreadful Glare had no effect on Sei’ku and Kaireel was able to use the mummy’s disappointment against them, setting fire to their dry wrappings with a Fire Bolt.

Though Kaireel seemed quite pleased with his quick thinking magic, Sei’ku seemed thoroughly unimpressed and urged them all to stay vigilant as they proceeded past the smoldering remains.

Further mummies and the occasional wayward snake were dealt with in a similar manner. After setting off the first trap by mistake, they took care to watch their step the deeper they went, using their weapons to tap out the floor ahead. Pits were crossed with quick leaps and careful assists were offered to the less nimble among them.

Any interesting looking pot or chest they came across on their descent, however, Messenger thoroughly investigated and looted. Occasionally, he stuck his sword in a pot before sticking his hand in there, but always while disregarding the looks Amara kept shooting his way. “You do know these are my ancestors you’re taking from, right?” she eventually asked.

“...Are they going to need it?”

Muttering “I am not seeing this,” half to herself, she returned to the inscriptions on the walls in an attempt to speed this up.

Deeper into the ziggurat, they encountered their first real sign of pressing danger. Beyond the snakes and the occasional mummy still lingering, there were others in the ziggurat with them. The yuan-ti purebloods they encountered in one of the lower chambers were perhaps even more upset than the mummies about being disturbed. They attacked instantly, leaving them no chance to question their reason for trespassing.

As Messenger pulled Nameless free of one their corpses and Kaireel shook off the last tendrils of the snakefolk’s spellwork, Amara shone her light down another hall. “We need to keep moving, quickly.” As her light fell over the body of another yuan-ti, one less quick in avoiding the ziggurat’s blade traps, she added, “Stay on guard, please.”

Though they were able to make good time with Amara’s help, the ziggurat was still designed to confuse and impede intruders. Beyond the dozens of traps they encountered — pits, bolt walls, and swinging blades among others — they still stumbled into dead ends and found themselves looping in circles. Briefly, they were even trapped in a room with nothing but dozens of snakes.

Each delay worried Amara, but as they found the next dusty staircase down, her anxiety only seemed to increase. They were nearing the final chamber where the Guardian and the Scarab resided.

They moved quietly, though the halls and rooms they twisted through on the higher levels were absent down here. Now they moved through ceremonial chambers and past the detailed carvings of the ancient Halruaans. A yuan-ti stood guard near an archway, but they took him out swiftly and lowered his body quietly before any alarm could be raised.

In what could only be the grand tomb at the end of the ziggurat, they could hear the hissing of another yuan-ti. But with all their lights extinguished, they couldn’t make out what waited up ahead, even with darkvision. Confident it would need to be dealt with regardless, they prepared to attack.

Sei’ku led them inside, a burst of radiance immediately lighting the aasimar and the chamber up, as well as drawing the attention of the creature within. And creature it was. Rather than the humanoid snakefolk they’d become familiar with, a serpentine abomination turned away from the casket it’d been trying to open and hissed dangerously at them all.

Having done his job a little too well, Sei’ku shouldered most of the initial might of the abomination. Knocked down and out of the air, he staggered back up and focused primarily on defending Amara while Messenger and Kaireel hammered the serpent with steel and spells.

The abomination hit hard, but they hit harder.

It tried to curse them with a final hiss, but Messenger swung Nameless through its neck and watched the snake form fall and crumple. And as light begin to emit from the casket behind them, they realized it had still succeeded in something down here.

The three fighters all readied attacks as something from within pushed the casket open, but Amara ran up and stilled their blades. As a huge and ancient naga emerged from the casket, she whispered, “He’s with us.”

“Who disturbs my sleep?” the naga asked. All four of them glanced towards the pieces of yuan-ti abomination. “Ah. Good riddance. He’s been trying to get into my casket for days.” The naga turned his gold, serpentine gaze to Amara. “It has been some time since a priestess has come to see me. What service do you require?”

Amara, with her serpentine staff in hand, stood up straighter. “I request the Scarab that my ancestors trusted you with, Guardian. Halarahh requires its protection.”

The Guardian considered her for a moment before disappearing into the untold depths of the gilded casket. After a moment, he returned and held out with his tail a beautifully designed scarab of wrought gold and bronze and lapis lazuli inlay. Amara took it with a bow of her head and a thanks as he looked out over the others. “Anything else? Or can I return to my nap?”

“A reward wouldn’t hurt,” Messenger suggested, ignoring the elbow he received from Sei’ku.

The naga looked out around the room they stood in. Without someone trying to kill them and cantrip lights illuminating the space at last, the party could see his chamber also served as the primary vault of the ziggurat. Golden treasures of all kinds lined the walls and spilled across the floor. “Help yourselves, I suppose, I have no need for this.”

“Within reason,” Amara added.

With a tired nod, the Guardian flicked his tail and an unseen door slid open with a puff of stale air and dust. “When you’re done, the door will seal behind you.”

Messenger began to slide coins and strange looking artifacts into his Haversack while Kaireel began to collect his own payment. Sei’ku limited himself to a few decorative gold bands and focused on relieving the abomination of his decorative belt.

Draped over the lip of the casket, the Guardian’s continued yawning and Amara’s foot tapping at the door urged them to speed things up. And as promised, as they stepped through the dusty passage and into fresh air at the base of the ziggurat, the stones slid seamlessly back into place, leaving no trace of the door’s existence.

They made good time on their return and with the Scarab of Protection in hand, Amara seemed more willing to share some of the stories of it and her people over campfires. Their return to the Netyarch was met with warm, thankful greetings, and she promised them continued access to the University and its mages.

Pleased with this, Kaireel mentioned returning to the research that brought him to Halarahh and excused himself from their company.

“You two have proven yourself quite reliable,” Netyarch Kerime said to the warriors who remained. “I look forward to the day you consider Halaraah your homes.”

This time when Messenger took his things down to the mages and enchanters of the University, Sei’ku accompanied him. “Oh hello, sir!” greeted the young enchanter. “Are you back for another upgrade already? Who’s your friend?”

“Depends what you have to offer. But I have some things that need identifying. So does Sei’ku, I think.”

Sei’ku nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

“Certainly, sirs! Let’s see what you have there,” Angus said, patting the desk between them eagerly. There was some twisting and examining of each item they passed to Angus before he could confidently name each piece put before him.

“These look very neat, Mister Messenger. This is an Alchemy Jug, it creates different liquids upon request. This ewer is a little unusual, though. It has a whole lot of transfiguration magic in it, sir — maybe something a little more alchemical? — but I’ve never seen something like it before. If I’m right, and I bet I am, it should be able to create potions from water.”

Messenger considered both items for a moment, nodded, and shoved them back into his Haversack for safe keeping.

Angus then inspected the pieces Sei’ku had laid out for him. “Well, this one is a little spooky, but it doesn’t seem magical,” Angus said, putting the lamia’s keris down gingerly, “but this? This is a Necklace of Fireballs, Mister Sei’ku. If you throw one of the six beads, it casts Fireball.”

“What happens if you throw the whole string?”

“A way big Fireball, sir.” Angus set it back down near the keris and then picked up the beaded belt. “And this is an Onyx Belt, it will let you hit things really good with your bare hands. And I think that’s everything? Unless you wanted to talk enchantments?”

This time, a giant sword and a spear were both placed on the table in front of him. And Angus clapped his hands and got to work.

Kaireel — Sun Elf. Eldritch Knight Fighter. Played by Malfrost.

Continued thanks to Griffin McElroy for the best boy enchanter we have.

[capticalcitycomics]

Just Pinned to He-Man, She-Ra, Masters of the Universe: MOTU Masters of the Universe replacement stickers - POINT DREAD & TALON FIGHTER http://bit.ly/2DgxiW8

[argocitycosplay]

Every year during SanDiego Comic Con, Carol and John’s comic shop holds thier annual “Not at Comic Con” sale. Last year they partnered with the local North East Ohio Toy and Collectibles Club to host a swap meet in addition to the sale. The event was held just a few feet down fro the store, in the empty space CnJs uses for Free Comic Book Day. I missed it last year, but decided to pop in after Church and look around for a few minuets before heading home – I’m still looking for a Twiki to go with my Buck Rogers collection. I figured I’d be in and out real quick, after all, how big could it be?

You see that graphic? The one that says “Over 40 tables” with the number 40 crossed out and replaced with 70? THAT’S how big it could be. Forty tables crammed into the FCBD space with people shoulder to shoulder looking over wares. Outside, vendor tables lined the walls, stretching along the sidewalk from the grocery store to the Dollar Tree, with more occupying the space in front of the comic store. In the parking lot, a large section had been roped off, with tents and another twenty or more tables popping up amoungst the cars. There were more vendors than some comic conventions I’ve been too. It was like a smaller flea market, but without the porcelain teddy bears and antique lamps. Nothing but toys and comics and books as far as the eye could see.

What surprised me was the amount of comics on sale. Tons of quarter bins and fifty cent comics. They may actually have outnumbered the dollar comics. I’ve lamented in recent years that the quarter bins seem to be vanishing from the convention scene – and to be fair, there were more here than I’ve seen at any recent conventions I’ve gone to, nevertheless, this gives me hope. I went crazy in these longboxes, grabbing dozens of issues – particularly Superman and Dark Avengers.

I never did locate a Twiki (or any other Buck Rogers toys for that matter) and I must say I showed admirable restraint in not pulling the triger on MULTIPE Talon Fighters, complete with Point Dread.  I picked up two Sabrina mangas for Maddie for a dollar each (and sour patch kids for Lydia next door at the dollar store – have to be fair!), as well as a cute Hulkbuster plushie and a Masters of the Universe Snakeman, also for a dollar each. The Snakemen may not have been my favorite of the He-Man villians, but for a buck? I’m buying that Rattlor!

The real find of the day though (and the one that, combined with the quarter bins, made me go over budget) was a loose Doctor Who figure. It’s a #3 – My doctor. Even more importantly, he was in green, and wearing calf boots. He was perfect and priced so low that it was a steal.  I can’t even begin to express how excited this purchase made me.

I couldn’t believe I’d been there almost two hours. I never expected something so big or to find the deals that I did. This was actually pretty fun, and may just become a regular annual stop for me.

NEOTACC Swap Meet Every year during SanDiego Comic Con, Carol and John's comic shop holds thier annual "Not at Comic Con" sale.

[voppzy]

2018 Copenhagen System Open

So, my first system open. As I live in Stockholm getting down there is pretty easy and cheap so me and two friends went down. I wasn’t quite sure what to fly and ended up using this list. I had had pretty good success with it and variations of it so I thought I might have an ok chance, it turned out it had some pretty big flaws but I’ll go over those later.

Anyways I got down to copenhagen and met up with my friends and had a nice meal and two games of X-Wing, I was hoping for a good result but even if I failed I sort of saw it as a practice System Open before Krakow two weeks later, and besides you get loads of nice loot!

Main Event

(I forgot to write down all the names, so sorry to those I forgot)

Game 1 Phil Gc Guri, Dalan Oberos, Prinze Xizor

This game was very fun, Phil played super well and he seemed to know where I would end up all the time, unfortunately my Quickdraw had a bad roll on his range 1 double tap and I think that was pretty much the game, if I remember correctly he had 2 StarVipers left in the end. Even though I lost it was a super fun game as both of us played very fast and we got alot of rounds in, but I learnt to never underestimate the maneuverability of a PTL StarViper.

StarVipers are scary in the hands of someone who has flown them alot.

Game 2 Poe Dameron, Dash Rendar

First round of combat I got an ion on poe and all his shields down in exchange for 2 shields from quickdraw, next round I managed to perfectly block his Poe with my gunboat and got a range 1 + target lock with both Quickdraw and Ryad. Quickdraw shoots first and kills him, so he of course shoots back, he manages to roll 3 hits and 1 focus (he still had his focus from last round). Quickdraw blanks. At this point this game was pretty much over as my Ryad doesn’t do enough damage on her own and the gunboat won’t help much, and that was indeed the case, eventually he knocked the stealth device off with the HLC and then did about one damage per turn while not getting shot back.

Game 3 Bo mortensen 4 A-Wings, 3 with PTL + Juke and 1 with PTL + Swarm Leader

Very fun list and looked pretty scary in the first joust, but I managed to survive it with all ships and then chased them down one by one and won it without losing anything. Sadly A-Wings just don’t have enough damage. Awesome paint job by Bo though!

A-Wings doing their best to run away.

1-2 after the first 3 rounds meant I was out, so time for hangar bay! I only brought one list for this which was this one again maybe not the best list, but it is so much fun to play! Besides it’s hangar bay so I don’t really wanna bring the most competitive list in the world.

Hangar Bay

Game 1 Kylo Ren + 2 Harpoon gunboats

I got to choose the initiative and of course gave it to him, first round of combat his kylo ends up range 1 in front of my TIE Fighter and my Kylo, all 3 with focus. He shoots first and rolls all naturals, I blank and have to blow the title and still end up taking two damage on Kylo. I only do two damage in return. At this point it is obviously looking pretty bad but I don’t remember exactly how it kept going but I think Ryad tanked a Harpoon without taking damage and eventually I chase him down, if I remember correctly I only lose the TIE Fighter in the end.

Game 2 Magnus Olsson Rey, Lowhhrick

This was one of the guys I travelled down with and I had beaten him before so I was feeling sort of confident, It was quite even until I got way too confident and did a stupid move with kylo and ended range 2 of both his ships. I died. Ryad died eventually as well. Well played Magnus!

Game 3 Quickdraw, Countess Ryad (with PTL), Omega Leader

This game worked exactly as I wanted my list to work, my Ryad went in straight at him and didn’t take any damage, meanwhile my TIE Fighter came in to annoy him and Kylo came from behind. Kylo took out Omega Leader really fast and then my Academy Pilot manages to block his ryad several turns in a row, so I kill her and eventually Quickdraw follows.

So I ended 2-1 in hangar bay, and 3-3 overall that day, pretty happy with that and most of the games were very fun, besides I remembered how much I love flying Kylo, but more on that later...

So, regarding my main event list, it struggled with the fact that every good opponent realised they could just go for quickdraw first without getting punished at all, sure Ryad just doesn’t die but she also doesn’t do much damage, and Lone Wolf makes her a pain to fly. So for the hyperspace qualifier I decided two things: 1) I'm REALLY want to fly Kylo more, I haven’t had this much fun since Whisper was good. 2) I’m not flying Lone Wolf in a 3-ship list anymore, It’s way too much effort. So after alot of bad ideas (including Kylo+Ryad with a 16 point bid) I ended up deciding on flying this. I wasn’t expecting of doing super well but even if I lost I would at least have a great time! Hyperspace time!

Hyperspace Qualifier

Game 1 Rasmus Svensson Rear Admiral Chirenau (Adaptability, Palpatine, Kylo), “Blackout”

His highest PS was 9 and I of course got to choose initiative so I gave it to him, He managed to do decent damage at the start but didn’t get the Damaged Cockpit crit on Kylo, so I managed to wear him down and get a few nice blocks with academy pilot in the process.

Win 100-0

Empire on Empire violence!

Game 2 Jacob Boersma Gunboat (Harpoon), Backdraft (Cruise Missile), Quickdraw (Harpoon)

I Sacrificed the Academy Pilot as a distraction and in the next turn I managed to call his 4 forward to fire the cruise missile and landed right in between Backdraft and the gunboat with my Quickdraw while Kylo was flanking, Backdraft died on this turn and in the rest of the game I did a great job dodging Quickdraw with Kylo, His Quickdraw died and eventually the gunboat as well.

Win 100-12

Game 3 Robert “Tobert” Wagman Ten Numb (Mangler, Bombs, Trajectory Sim), Nym (Bombs, Trajectory Sim, Genius)

This was quite scary as he had 2 PS10s with bombs, which is a problem for Kylo, again this game my Academy Pilot just went in and died as a distraction, meanwhile Quickdraw approach from one direction while kylo came from the other, so he had to choose which to go for, he decided on Kylo. I managed to just fly around and dodge with kylo and put a few damage in while quickdraw was hitting really hard from behind, 1 agility ships take alot of damage. The B-Wing dies first and then I eventually get a Damaged Cockpit on Nym and he dies soon after.

Win 100-12

Game 4 Chopper , Lowhhrick

A really close game, my academy pilot goes in and creates some chaos in the start and even do a few damage to the ghost, Quickdraw does alot of damage on the doubletaps and kylo slowly creeps in from behind. Quickdraw eventually dies to TLT and at that point the ghost has 3 hull left and both Kylo and Lowhhrick is on full. I look at the points and realised I'm 4 above him if the ghost dies, unfortunately this is complicated by a damaged sensor array on Kylo which takes 3 turns to clear, but in that time I manage to do a talon roll and kill the ghost, with only a few minutes left on the time I make a attempt to kill Lowhhrick but realise it’s never gonna happen, but then time is called. Very tense game with some clutch maneuvering, fun!

Win 52-48

Kylo trying his best to blend in.

Game 5 Lasse Kiilerich 4x Z-95 (Harpoons),  Resistance Bomber (FCS, Targeting Synchronizer)

At this point I was pretty surprised to be undefeated and I fully expected to face the dreaded Fenn + Ghost list, but when I get to my table I see 4 Z-95s and a Resistance Bomber. My first thought is that this should be an easy game but then I look at the list and get worried, there’s alot of damage there. Anyways I manage to approach with all my ships from a different angle so he has to pick one to go for, and as I thought he pick Kylo, he gets hit with one harpoon and next round the guy who fired it goes for a block, which I luckily dodge by a millimeter, and manage to run away. Meanwhile Quickdraw comes in from the side and starts hitting really hard, basically guaranteeing one dead Z per turn if he chooses to fire at Quickdraw. But behind his entire squad, my MVP of the match, the academy pilot. It goes in, blocks and creates chaos, but it also doesn’t roll a single blank for the rest of the game, and almost one crit every turn. I pick of more Zs, Kylo comes back around but I get way too greedy and spend my focus on the attack and ends up dying, but I eventually win and with my opponent only firing one torpedo. I think my Academy Pilot has earned a promotion!

Win 100-47

At this point I unfortunately had to drop to catch a plane home, but I got my shield tokens and had a surprisingly good result so I’m happy! I also really like the list and I will try it next weekend in the Uppsala Regional and if it goes well there I’ll bring it to the Krakow System Open as well!

Here is the List Juggler page for the Hyperspace Qualifier.

And finally some shoutouts! Thanks to Magnus (who beat me in Hangar Bay) and Johan (who flew a ship off the board) for being great travel buddies and to once against having to wait for me in the final rounds of the tournament. Also big thanks to the organisers for a great event and a final shoutout to all the great people I met and played against for making the tournament fun!

Goodbye Copenhagen!

[zandrobenedetti-blog]

Under the Blue Moon

My life is full of excitement, everything I do is a shot of adrenaline. I mean that metaphorically of course because I don’t really like needles, but that’s beyond the point. I love the rush I get from playing video games. It gives me a hill willy. My favorite game is Dungeons Under the Blue Moon; a mmo game where all the job classes are warriors from different eras of time. I play it all the time with my friends online. They all live really far away so it’s nice to be connected even if we’ve never met in real life.

        I log on to DimChat, and I see Samsara is on. She’s the first one here, nice. Oh, looks like she’s calling me for a video chat, better answer.

        “Hey how are you, Sam?”

        “Hello Joan! I’m so excited for today!” She said loudly.

Yup, my name is Joan, a plain name for an adventurous girl like myself.

        “Whoa now, I don’t want to lose my hearing before you tell me the news.” I say in hopes she lowers that loud voice of hers.

        “Oh, sorry, ha ha. It’s just that Robin told me he found someone to join our party in the game. Now we have a chance to beat the Owlguin on the 286thfloor!” She raised her voice again, I flinched for a second there because that last part actually hurt my ears.

        “…Really? What’s his class?” I asked.

        “Robin told me he’s an Aztec.” Samsara replied.

        “Ohhh, a spell casting fighter class I see. Now you can be a full on Tibetan instead of a Yogi.” How intriguing.

        This IS exciting news, because leveling up a Yogi was such a hassle. Now we can just have the Aztec guy in the team, and finally beat that stupid Owlguin. The strength of my Dame was enough to take down its armor, but the arrows from Robin’s Holy Roman only staggers it when its armor is down. I had to wait until my skills finished recharging, but it would be too late because the armor would come back. We later found out it’s weak against shadow and fire skills. Samsara took it upon herself to change her class into a Yogi, and level up from 1 to 290 so she could catch up to us. The process was possibly the most irritating thing ever; I’m not exactly a patient person. I see Robin just logged on, and looks like he’s in the middle of a video call with somebody. It must be the Aztec guy.

        “Hey look, Robin’s on. You think he’s talking to Pedro?” As Samsara spoke, I was brought back to reality. How long was I deep in thought?

        “Peydro is his name? The Aztec guy?” I asked, that name sounds a little foreign for my tongue.

        “No, it’s pronounced Peh-dro.” Samsara, you’re too smart for me.

        “Well let’s crash his party, come on!”

        “Okay!”

I quickly move my mouse to Robin��s name, but a tab opened up to tell me that Robin is calling. I was surprised but I answered without giving it a second thought.

        “Heeey~ everyone’s here!” Robin said.

Samsara and I greet Robin, he’s looking chubby today.

        “Hey Robin, putting on weight? I told you to lay off the coffee cakes.”

        “Shut it Joan, coffee cakes are life! The hypnotizing aroma of cinnamon calls to me.”

        “Whatever, where’s Pedro? I see his cam on but he’s not there.” I said.

        “Oh, he said he went to deal with some ‘cabrons’ asking for money.”

As he said that, I swear I heard some fireworks coming out of Pedro’s mic along with screams. Just what’s going on?

        “You think it’s the debt collectors?” Samsara asked.

        “Umm, I think so.” Robin replied.

        “Are you sure that’s what it is? Because it sounds a little shady.” I expressed my concern.

        I see a figure moving in Pedro’s camera. It looks like a fat woman taking money out a wallet, I’m assuming that’s Pedro’s wallet.

        “Madre, que haces en mi cuarto?” I hear a stray voice in the distance.

The fat woman gets scared and hurries out of the room. I wonder what he said to her.

        “Ahh, hola, sorry about that. Let’s get to the game.” He commanded.

        “Woah, slow down there tiger. Hi, my name is Joan, that’s Samsara. You are?”

        “Pedro, I thought Robin told you guys already.”

        “Come on, no need to be rude. We’re teammates now!” Samsara loudly explained. Maybe I should lower her mic volume.

        “Robin is -mmf- me!” There he goes again, stuffing his face with coffee cakes.

        We all log on to DUBM and meet each other at The White Sky Tower, the tower filled with high level monsters. I don’t waste time to transport us directly to the 286th floor.

        “Alright Sam, stay in the back and cast altruism on me. Robin, use your bomb arrows to kill the minions that come out of its stomach. Pedro, what skills do you have?”

        “Uhh, I have 'Xiuhte’, 'Chalchu’, 'Huitzilopo’, 'Tezcatli’, and 'Quetzal’.”

        “Wow, I’m surprised you have all those skills. Just use the fire skill when the Owlguin’s shield is broken.”

        “Right!” Pedro exclaimed.

        Not a second later, the dreaded Owlguin shows its adorable looking face to us, but I won’t let it fool me. I hear laughter in my headset; who’s laughing?

        “Hahahaha, is that it?!” Pedro seems to think it’s funny.

        “Trust me, dude, it’s stronger than it looks!” Robin exclaimed.

        “Look out!” I yelled.

The Owlguin swung at us with its goofy looking talon-claws. That depleted all our health, and now we’re back in the main hub.

        “Damn it! I had a marker on that area.” I said.

        “So? Just take us back to the front of that tower.” Said Pedro.

        “What are you talking about? When you die you can’t go back to your saved spot. We have to walk all the way there again!” I said angrily.

        “Alright, let’s calm down, we could walk there again. It’s no problem, we’ll even rent a pterodactyl to fly us there.” Said Samsara.

        “Samsara the problem solver.” Said Robin.

        “Yes I am!” Samsara loudly replied.

        “We go, Joan.” Said Pedro.

        “You will call me 'Arc Bishop’ until we beat the Owlguin. After that, you may call me Joan.” I coldly replied.

        We tried to beat the Owlguin a second time, but Pedro was off his keyboard making a sandwich; damn it Pedro. We tried to beat the Owlguin a third time, but Pedro was arguing with his mom about the missing money in his wallet, wherever it went. Damn it, Pedro. We tried to beat the Owlguin a fourth time, but Pedro was watching porn on a different tab. I saw a teenage boy masturbate for the first time today. It was an image I would rather see when I’m older; damn it, Pedro. Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!

        “Damn it, Pedro!”

        “Get your shit together man!” Said Robin.

        “…I’m going to find you and hang you from a tree.” Said Samsara.

        “That’s a bit too far there, Sam.” Said Robin.

        “Look guys, it’s just a game, there’s nothing at stake here.” Said Pedro.

I notice Pedro’s Aztec has a strange name over his head, 'Reynaldo’.

        “Reynaldo?” I questioned.

        “Yeah, it’s the name of the guy I bought this account off of.” He answered.

        “Robin…where did you meet Pedro?”

        “In the main hub; he was asking me how to play.” Replied Robin

        “…Welp, its bed time.” Immediately, Pedro logged out.

        “Wait, come back you-!” He left before I got a chance to go off on him. I had all this pent up anger just waiting to burst out.

        “Maybe we should go.” Suggested Samsara.

        “Yeah, I’ll just switch my class to aztec and level up by myself. That way I’d be of more use to you guys.” Replied Robin.

        “…It’ll be faster if you were fighting high level monsters. I’ll handle all the fighting while you sponge up the growth.” I said

        “Great idea!” I flinched because that was especially loud, even for Sam.

        Sam continued, “We don’t need some jerk’s help, we got each other!”

        “Yeah we do!” I replied. “You guys are awesome teammates.”

        I say my goodbyes, and log out. When Pedro said it was just a game, it took me back to my older brother when he would beat me at Final Tear. I was so angry, but all that anger would melt away when he said, “It’s just a game. Don’t take it so seriously.” Maybe I should mellow down, then I’d have a cool head and finally beat that Owlguin.

        A look outside my window and I see strawberry seeds flying in the air. I look down and see my dad’s trying to fix his banana car. Looks like the problem was a celery in the potassium engine.

        “A world where fruit is technology. Heh, I wonder how Sam and Robin’s dimensions are.”

© Zandro Benedetti, 2017