#betsy kreese

[msfbgraves]

How did John and Betsy meet? Did it bother John that she wasn’t an Omega? Why does John think of Terry and Daniel’s relationship?

I imagine it was rather similar to canon - Betsy was out with an Alpha boy who was constantly negging her, saying how he could have had an omega but they were too high maitenance for him, not that he couldn't change his mind, and though he would always 'respect' her, there were other things they could do, weren't there? You would go the extra mile for your Alpha, wouldn't you, Betsy? And the poor girl was dying with embarassment and trying to leave and when she finally did the boy grabbed her wrist and wouldn't let go and John saw red. No idea what came over him he went mental. He lost that fight, there were too many of them, but Betsy brought him home to her Mammy to patch him up and John was a goner. Took him a while to understand what was going on as he'd never felt that way at all. Terry had a field day with all of it. Kept contriving ways for them to run into each other. At one point even cajoled father Martin into preaching about how love was holy when the heart was pure and should be acted upon with grace, and then he still had to set him up at the cinema. John was so new to all of it, and so bashful when he asked: "Can I see you again?" Betsy had some hesitations at first because she was a good girl and John already had a fearsome reputation, but they both clicked and that was that. And John doesn't care what she is, other than his girl, is what. Could be Martian for all the difference it would make to him.

He's also completely immune to Daniel's charm and thinks the boy's connections are more trouble than they're worth, but he loves Terry, and Terry loves him - if he trusts John's adopted omega boy as little as John trusts Daniel.

What John thinks about their relationship? It exasperates him. There are always issues with those two. If he does condemn Terry for straying, especially since the thought is so alien to him. But Terry is both his friend and the reason his family wants for nothing, so, certain things will have to be overlooked. Plus, he's very fond of Terry's puppy Robby in particular and doesn't want to upset his own puppy Tory, who is best friends with Robby and keeps insisting they marry.

[mochisquish]

[terrence-silver]

Formally requesting a follow up to your married-to-his-high-school-sweetheart Twig story where he finally reunites stateside with his beloved. He gets a bit carried away in his need to convey just how much he's missed her? Maybe it gets a bit dark as he wants to possess her so deeply that no one questions their relationship again?

(You know me, there are really no boundaries on my end, so take this where you will!)

The story is a continuation / expansion of this post right here.

---

Momma Back Home Ran Out of Ink

Twig!Terry Silver x Reader

—

The limousine rushes from the airbase, his chauffeur hitting the 180 miles per hour mark.

He just about didn’t care who saw — who gawked — the image of him leaving in big style like this, his uniform the only thing lingering on him from the flight back home alongside the boxed in beige parcel on his lap — his luggage long since having been sent where he wanted it sent, meanwhile; all your letters, correspondence, pictures, perfumed paper, tokens collected from nearly three years overseas where with him. The first thing he asked for upon release to base and the one thing that stuck to him like a second skin after he was out of the cage was every bit of devotion showcased in written form; Terry Silver was only seventeen when he married you, before being deployed, technically needing parental consent to do so, and of course his old man fought the idea. Of course he waged war, of a different kind, at home, yelling and shouting until the walls practically shook, wagging his bejeweled finger and listing all the requirements of what a potential partner should be, what the acceptable age is, how life should be lived, our own kind of people being words dropped frequently, like a bomb, and Terry recalled that being his first bit of checkmate, telling his father that if he gave his consent he, like a good son, would compromise. He wouldn’t go off to the war and do something stupid and endanger his own future, like all the supposed lowlives did --- boys without prospects other than being live canon fodder were doing and the minute the signature was on paper and Terry had you secured and his, he left anyway.

He laughed then even as he was laughing now, into his own chin, all the way to the airfield.

That was then, his first ever victory.

And this was now.

And now? In the present? He needed you. He needed you badly.

Almost two years in the bush and there were nights where he’d secretly slide his hand into his green fatigues while laying in the sack during patrols, the scented envelope your letters arrived in pushed into his boxers and wrapped around his cock as he rubbed it on the tender flesh there, up and down, envisioning your fingers and lips wrapped around him instead, not minding the chafing sensation of paper on his skin. Quite the opposite; he found the slight discomfort exhilarating, cumming against the material and the itching sensation of pain, holding back groans, stashing the soaked, stained remains away and saving them for later like a lucky charm. Thing is, most of those punks never believed he was married back home in the first place, the same way his father never thought he had the guts to go against his word. Terry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way, because it meant none of them would ever ask for your picture, never ask about you, never hassle him, never even contemplate you, convinced you were a fragment of his imagination or he despised it for being doubted. Looked down on. Underestimated. It was poetic justice when one of them would rip your newly arrived letter from his hand, jumping around like a rabid ape, giggling and reading your words aloud to everyone only to step on a landmine a week from then, losing the very leg they were jumping on in a state of mockery. Momma back home ran out of ink, they’d call it, whenever the letters were late. Somehow delayed. When they were on time, they’d say momma was diligent, writing to her son as per schedule, prodding and poking at him; it was this running gag, that his mother was posing as wife to make him look good out here, in front of the boys.

Those were the nights he wanted to kill.

Simultaneously the nights when he’d squeeze the collected envelopes of your letters harder.

Tighter. The pace vigorous and angry. Desperate.

Scrunching them around his dick until he could feel himself bleed.

-"So, married man, huh?"-

John Kreese remarked on one occasion, sitting beside him in the busy canteen, giving him a broad smile, seemingly eager and warm, the type someone gives you when they’re honest — genuine — regardless, Terry instinctively braced for more mockery, having been used to it by now. Desensitized in ways. Kreese fished into his pocket, lowering himself into the chair beside him, pulling out a photo of his own, tapping him on the back with a big, heavy hand with a gesture sudden and firm enough to be felt in Terry’s spine, John being almost twice his size where muscle mass was concerned. -"Right on!"- A sense of congratulation in his voice and Terry remembered sitting there, surprised. The picture offered to him. A girl. An introduction. Like they were equals. Two brothers. Not even his own father gave him such a welcome sensation after he’s gotten hitched; quite the contrary. He’s threatened to disown and disinherit him. Which he would’ve done too if he simply he had in who’s favor to disown and disinherit him. -"This is my Betsy. My Pasadena girl."- John explained with a twinge of visible, twinkling pride and Terry held that photo between shaking fingers, feeling his own mouth partially fall agape. Acceptance? This was acceptance, wasn’t it? A way of saying ‘I believe you, friend’. All the more reason then, for him to rush home now, in John’s name, in his own, and fuck you, on the foundation of everything that he lived through in Vietnam. The news that Betsy died. That you, on the other hand, were alive and well, and that he should push himself inside of you so deep you feel him in your bloodstream, precisely because you weren’t taken from him. That Captain Turner wasn’t announcing that you were the one who wasn’t alive anymore, during that fateful night when the bamboo cage sprung open and they were handpicked and led outside.

The car comes to a sudden halt and you’re already on the front porch, eagerly waving.

Waiting for him, having got his call, hour, date and all.

His cock twitches in his trousers at the sight of you as he rushes out, slamming the door behind him.

-"Terry! Sweetheart! Baby!"- 

Your arms open towards him, he doesn’t even know when he’s managed to cross the street that separated the parked vehicle from your house by a narrow road, but it’s one of those things a man does in a trance, he supposed. Instinctually. Naturally. The body didn’t need reminds to breathe at night, while it was asleep. Organs didn’t give out while he was dreaming. Having nightmares. Thinking of you. They’d just seamlessly continued to do their own thing, without reminders needed. He figured it was the case now. Terry ran to you because nothing in the world could’ve made more sense. Your soft hands encircle his face, holding his cheeks, gaze scrutinizing every feature riddled with the sheen of warm tears. You speak, exasperated, and he’s heard your voice before. In the sound or rifles. Gunfire. The rare quietude of the night. Nothing beat hearing it live, like piecing together a puzzle from memory. -"Terry, you’re here!"- You speak through gasps, like you couldn’t believe the sight of him. He changed. He was aware he changed. Internally. Externally. In every way possible. The widening of your eyes testifying as to how much exactly. He supposed he did it for himself. For you. For all the people who ever doubted him to the degree they’d fail to imagine him a married man because they couldn’t reconcile he had it in him, leading him to go to Korea after the war and take even more time away from you — make that ultimate sacrifice of discipline and willpower if it only meant how he’d look the part of everything he started being convinced he could be. -"Let me look at you!"- Your stare riddled with happy tears travels up and down his uniform in shock once you release yourself from an embrace he’s reluctant to break — allowing you only so much breathing space, backing you further away from the front yard, the lawn and further up the porch, causing you to walk backwards. Too happy to notice it too. Terry wasn’t looking at his surroundings. He was only looking at you. At this point, a car could’ve pulled up from the roadside and he swears he could’ve stopped it with desire and power of tenacity alone for daring to interrupt him. -"I swear, you got taller somehow! They've been feeding you good out there!"- You chuckle out, trying to alleviate the situation, observing his head and reaching back, finding a wisp of hair tied at the nape of his neck, tenderly tugging at the strands, needing to stand propped up on your toes to even touch him.

Quite the contrary to your endearing, adorable statement; you couldn't even imagine half of the things he was forced to eat 'out there', as you put it so poetically.

He grins at the fact.

He'd much prefer eating you, though. Right now.

 -"This is new too. I like it!"-

You remark, a smile revealing a row of teeth behind a pleased lip, eying his locks.

 -"It’s just like you described it!"-

You add, twirling a curl of hair around your finger and he unwittingly thinks of Ponytail. From his letters, you assumed the tied, long hair was simply a fashion choice, but Terry doesn’t allow himself time to fall behind any longer and get distracted by explanations, hoisting you up without warning, there and then on the sidewalk and lifting your body up, towards his shoulder, eliciting a jolted cry of surprise from you as he balances you by grabbing unto the back of your hips, right beneath your buttocks. He doesn't linger. Ponytail wouldn’t want him to linger either, in fact. Ponytail would want him to fuck your brains out right about now, regardless of the fact that he frequently believed getting married at seventeen is either some Redneck nonsense or Waspy nonsense, never anything in between. You either had to be trailer park destitute or richer than God to be pulling things like that, he'd theorize. Terry nearly cackles at the idea, beaming at the recollection. -"You like it, huh?"- He remarks with a contented hum, sauntering in wide strides towards the house, practically carrying your body forward, his nails digging into the flesh of your ass, feeling the tender skin there through the fabric of your clothes and underwear. It takes a cosmic amount of self-control not to throw you against the front porch wall and screw you right against it, in view of the entire street, letting everyone who accidentally caught ahold of the sight that you’re his. That he did it. That it was his fucking right to do this. You were his wife and he was consummating his marriage. 

The front door slams shut behind him.

He puts you down, cornering you against the nearby wall.

When the buttons of your blouse snap scattering across the floorboard, with each rolling and tumble of the fasteners disappearing under chairs, tables and cupboards like so many ants, Captain Turner’s voice echoes through his mind.

-"So help me God, you got us into this shit, and you’ll pay for it."-

His grimace flashes before Terry’s eyes, obscured by the shadows of the canopy.

His fingers unbuckle his belt like they had a mind of their own, seeking your warmth.

Your cunt hidden underneath layers of fabric.

 -"I’ll make you pay for it, kid."-

His familiar voice repeats and rumbles inside of his brain and Terry isn't certain what way he'd rather fuck you, trying to quell the noise inside of his head, yet simultaneously embracing it gladly, hoping that in some weird way, everyone he was intrusively remembering could hear him. See what he was doing right now. That they were witness to it, as they should've been, as he was getting ready to claim you and preform for each and every one of them, including you, purely so they'd all understand this was real. This was his wife. He was having her. A big collective 'screw you' to the very lot of them --- every doubter in his life so far. He grabs you underneath your hips, effectively lifting you up and spreading you, up against the wall. Thank fuck for the practicality sundresses, because your whole wetness falls open like the most delicious treat inside of a wending machine, the scent of you salty and pungent. Delectable. Soaked and obscured by the thin fabric of your panties. He could see exactly where you were split. Yearning for him. It's child's play to dig into the material and rip it open right in the middle, exposing you for him. You shriek. -"Those bozos out there will seem like a kitten in comparison and by the time they walk through to get you, you’ll beg them to finish you."- His commanding officer had the tendency of saying, moving as close as the tightly confined space of their shared cage allowed back, believing in equal measure retribution as he threatened him, even though Terry knew it was more than a threat --- it was a promise. The buzzing sound of his radio station alerted the enemy to their position out in the wild, endangering the whole platoon and the only reasonable conclusion was for the unit to take the matters of justice into their own hands and ensure clumsy little Twig pays dearly for his negligence. Code Red. Extra judicial punishment. The idea that he isn't safe outside of the cage as much as inside of it. That his own compatriots would make him suffer as much as the Gooks would've and that it would've been John and him against all of them. But, he was here. He was alive. He was devouring you.

-"That little missy of yours? Swear on my heart and hope to die, you ain't never seeing her again except in the front pews while they put to rest whatever's left to ship home of you of you and your ass."-

Turner threatened in his thoughts and you moan, lashed with velvety hot licks.

Hips bucking against Terry's mouth.

The thought of seeing you again was the chief reasons why he felt he survived.

To have someone tell him even that will be taken away from him?

He wondered how he stayed sane. If he was sane at all.

Sane? What was sane anymore?

-"I still own whatever's left of you and your ass."-

The words come out of his mouth of his own volition, repeating lines he's heard before, halfway paying homage, halfway mocking his commander's statement. Lines address for him initially. Reframing them. Causing you to moan from above him once his mouth separates from the slick moisture of your pussy. -"When I'm done."- He adds, once he catches his breath, letting you slide down against the surface of the wall right back into his embrace, not giving you too little or too much pleasure, rather just enough to make you suffer. You huff, breathless, hair falling over your forehead shiny with sweat, mouth partially open in delight, partially on the precipice of inhaling oxygen, like you were on the verge of saying something while he was feverishly massaging your slit with the tip of his cock, easing himself in. He's grown in every way he could. Even his cock would need time to re-adjust to your cunt. But, he knew you'd like that. You'd like that very much. He would too. -"I know this isn't the right time, Terry, but your dad --- he's called and called and called. Almost every day. I just think you should know. Even before we were told you were MIA."- You practically gasp your words once he's inside of you, rocking back and forth --- there was something very amusing, remising about family mid-sex, but admittedly, he barely gave you time to properly greet him after such a long time being away and so much shit he had to get through to merely come back alive, practically hoisting you up and carrying you inside, never even giving you time to say too much. -"And what did you tell him?"- Terry practically purrs, inhaling the scent of your neck. -"What did my hole tell him?"- He corrects himself, allowing himself to laugh. So? The old man did maintain some contact with the only daughter-in-law he'd ever get. He promised Terry he'd never utter a single word directed your way. Clearly, it was a short lived promise. The same way the threat that pa' would disown him if he went to 'Nam was. Funny how people tended to capitulate in strange ways when faced with someone who took the matter of agency into their own hands.

His father told him to leave the whole Karate-Vietnam business behind too.

And then he went and bought John his first dojo, as a gift.

What was the old man gonna do about it?

Get angry twice?

-"I told him the same thing every time."-

You mutter into his ear with what sounded like infinite tenderness.

Gentleness peppered with the shadow of desire.

-"That deep down, against all odds, I know you're okay."-

Terry looks at you then, separating himself from the precipice of your throat riddled with kisses that he was certain would bruise red by tomorrow, You knew he'd be okay. You knew? You told his father that? Even if he wasn't okay and had to come home in bits and pieces he'd drag himself back tooth and nail. John wouldn't let him fall behind. He'd carry him out there on his back and Terry knew that much. That's why you and him were the two most valuable people in his life. His best friend and the woman who deserved to live inside a returning soldier's locket forever as a memento. Still inside of you, Terry takes a second to tilt his head and smile. He's been doing a lot of that lately. The palm of his hand pressed against your cheek. If anything, you killed his father with kindness, believing in him when nobody else did and keeping the faith of his return even in the face of adversity. If anything, you showed your complete and utter quality. Your devotion. The very idea nearly made him salivate. The things he wanted to do to you bypassed imagination and description right about now, but Terry starts with the practical aspects of it all, grabbing the elastic lace holding the two cups of your exposed brassiere and tugging at it hard enough to allow the ribbon to snap, coming undone, exposing your chest, allowing the top to slide down, limp, lacking support. You gasp. He's had waking dreams about your tits. Imagine them every time he set his head down on any makeshift surface that could double as a pillow. But, now? He finally had the real deal, reaching out, and kneading with both hands. -"It's good my little robot's been so diligently answering the phone and taking care of correspondence."- He praises, tugging at your firm nipples --- one and then the other, listening to your breath hitch at the contact. What conversation happened happened; now that he's home he'd make use of the marital bedroom the right, proper way, holding nothing back. After all, you and him had all the time in the world now. Terry's arms envelop your waist, dragging you forward with him, down the corridor, never taking his eyes off of you. Your color drains from your face once he speaks and he didn't blame you. In fact, all of this was deliberate. He didn't know if he meant his words figuratively or literally anymore.

-"Considering this is only just the start and we're not leaving that room until you're wrecked and dead."-

Terry hums with deliberate provocation and lulling self-satisfaction.

Trapping you in an embrace, stripping pieces of clothes from you and himself.

Or rather, ripping --- slamming the bedroom door once you were inside.

Leaving the abject chaos of the foyer floor behind.

[cobra-wives]

serious philosophical question; should one of us kick the bucket?

small comic page thingy for the INSANE fic that is zelotypia by @terrence-silver - i definitely recommend giving it a read! so much interesting perspective on that ponytail-kreese-twig trio goodness; and terry’s inner workings and detestment for everyone that john loves more than him!

[puella-peanut]

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

I need like a poly between Betsy John and terry if Betsy lived imagine them after terry and kreese come back from nam imagine terry jumping and being so happy to meet Betsy at the airport and John just smiles being able to finally introduce his two favorite people to each other and they would get along great and keep kreese in check and talk about how great kreese is and terry would try to spoil both of them and Betsy and John would keep terry away from cocaine and omg Betsy in a white cobra Kai gi eeeee

[bluektw]

Think with me, what does ALL Kreese's star students (aka Tory and Johnny) have in common???

They look like Betsy

Blonde hair, light eyes and in one moment all had the same look, the same innocent doe eye's for at least a second in front of him

So, why do you think all that """coincidentally""" his two favorite students look like the love of his life??

(for this take we will pretend him and Silver don't have tension/chemistry like they do)

Fun fact: Peyton List and Emily Marie Palmer have the same thing with their eyes, where depending on the light they change to darker or lighter ones so much so I still can't say for sure which color are Emily's eyes (And I went through almost all of her posts on Instagram)

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

Like we need to talk about this more

And the way he give that adoring smile to terry always when they were together

Kreese after Betsy died:

Kreese when Terry said he would still kinda mostly be around, but like, maybe not as much as they originally planned, and apparently according to a lot of the other media in the TKK franchise did in fact end up teaching at Cobra Kai every now and again at least:

Talking with @mochisquish and realized I find it completely hilarious how Kreese does all kinds of reminiscing while looking at a photo of his army buddies... buuuut, pretty much never in his old age does he ever pine for/think about/reminisce about the girl that was so tragically snatched away from him. She is pretty much in this story just for like... context reasons.

He doesn't even keep a picture of her. There are real world explanations, of course, for why he wouldn't have a picture, but this is TV. If they wanted him to still be like, heartbroken over her, they could've had him have a picture of her. Or that letter she sent, or whatever. As @mochisquish pointed out, literally anything, hahah. Like visiting her grave. Anything. But nah, nah, instead, he's going to be EXTREMELY SENSITIVE about his tattoo that he got as a "BEST FRIENDS 4EVA" keepsake with Terry.

He is just... unbothered about losing Betsy. Present-day Kreese even talks about losing his mother, but never Betsy (other than, as mochi pointed out, when he was being fake as shit trying to fool his therapist). He also doesn't really give off any kind of vibes of like, "oh it's too painful to talk about" type of thing cause like.... maybe if they wanted to portray that instead, then they could've had him doing a Wolverine Gently Caressing Photo Frame While Gazing Longingly at Photo of Lost Loved One

well he did do that

but Terry was in the photo, not Betsy

[zappedbyzabka]

i was looking through your posts and read your fic where kreese eats johnny’s ass like it saved his life. him or someone eating johnny’s pussy the same way?🫣👀

I love that you remember the tag skskskksksk. Thank you for the ask, anon! I was happy when I woke up and saw this.

ABSOLUTELY. You know all I talk about is Johnny’s boypussy and the way he tempts people to eat it good without really trying. I mean, one look at those legs and any man would picture spreading them apart like they would the wet cunt between those satin thighs. I also like the idea of Johnny only giving Kreese a taste of the honey so he gets hooked, then ghosting him entirely and never letting him have it again for some definitely not therapist-approved revenge.

And since I’m a lady fiend; Joanie Lawrence getting lapped up by her little Cobra girls that follow their princess all around. I’ll have to go into that one of these days.

ATE ATE ATE. The way he swings his hips when he walks....he’s a damn hypnotizing pendulum.

He loves the feeling of his pussy getting split by a hot, eager tongue. He loves when they slurp it up and moan into it like it’s fucking cake or ramen. In fact, that thing could earn him a wedding cake and diamond ring (though he prefers the plain ones with writing on them. Maybe something about how he’s sweet as fruit? Maybe one of his lover’s choosing, comparing him to Gems and other special things? Gold and flowers?)

Kreese considers himself a manly man, and other than chicken and carbs, they eat pussy.

He did Betsy’s, and all those loose broads way back when—he even ate Silver’s ass—and they were good, but nothing really compares to the dripping flower that is his obsession’s.

He loves finding his doll sleeping with his leg up and bent, rested on a pillow. Sleeping like he expected someone’s mouth to worship him awake.

And he’s right to expect. The Cobras fell for it every time as well, and every sleepover was a guarantee to have them at his cunt like starving coyote’s with a single songbird. John doesn’t mind Johnny’s high expectations when he’s benefitted from them too.

Kreese’s face is always stubbly if he doesn’t have a full beard, and it scrapes against Johnny’s sensitive, glistening lips and thighs. Leaves bubblegum pink and red-hot rashes that he’s long used to. It feels so good between his plush asscheeks too, which Kreese likes to bite as if they were ripe apples.

John needs nothing more than Johnny’s spasming tummy under his large hand when he’s smothering himself in that soaked heat, and the twitch of his hips when he’s swiping his face like a credit card—he’s addicted to the taste as if it’s candy made with cocaine.

Ohhh, Johnny in anything revealing like little robes and babydolls—OM NOM NOM, he’s got someone chomping at the fucking bit for his sweet little cunt.

Now wait till Daniel gets a drink of it, and he’ll be determined to have Johnny standing in his kitchen wearing nothing but a little polka dot robe even if he starts a fire. Maybe the smell of smoke and arson gets Johnny excited and Daniel can lick up his slick while his nice house burns down.

[msfbgraves]

Would you ever write something where Daniel is at the hospital giving birth to one of their pups…meanwhile Terry is losing his mind waiting until everything is all in the clear and his omega is safe and not in pain. If he’s with someone (John, Betsy, Daniel’s Ma…) also annoying them to death with how on edge and in crazy “Alpha mode” he is. I bet they all secretly want Daniel to hurry up and have the kid so Terry can calm the fuck down. Or maybe Something where Daniel is going (trying to go) to the hospital and Terry is going feral and has to literally be pried off him lmao

"Betsy, you have to go back in there."

Most of the time, he finds her smile endearing. Now it annoys him like an itch he can't scratch.

"Terry, darlin', I don't think they'll tell me anything new. Not since the last four times I checked."

"But have you really checked? Anyone could get to them there, any random Alpha -"

"Is not allowed on the ward, Terry."

"But have you looked. Really looked! John, you know what I mean -"

"I do," he says. "Betsy knows exactly what's she's doing, don't you, doll?"

She puts something in front of him, but he sniffs in disgust. "I don't want tea."

"Ah, now, I don't think you've had a good cup in forever," Betsy says cheerfully. "Sometimes I think your Daniel is refusing to learn on purpose."

"His coffee's grand!" He snaps. "This is America!"

"That coffee's not American," John sneers.

"Only the best coffee in the world, so," Terry shoots back.

"Strong and milky," John says as Betsy puts down another cup of tea in front of him, strokes her arm. "Thank you, love."

"Want a cookie?" she says. "Johnny made them fresh."

How they expect to keep up the ruse that pretty boy's beta is anyone's guess, but it does give him a new angle. "Send him," he says.

"Say what?" John sounds wary.

"Send him to see Daniel." When they don't answer he says, "Oh, come on, he must know some trick."

"No."

"John, you can't keep -"

"Leave my boy out of it."

That's Betsy.

He looks at her. "Did I ask you, darlin'?"

"I don't want him -"

"No, I don't believe I did. John, get that omega of yours."

They're very quiet. "You're outta line, Terry."

He stands up. "I ask you to take care of my mate. My mate!" He looks at Betsy. "And instead you tell me, that he and my newborn pup are safe, but somehow, conveniently where I have no access to them. None."

"Drink your feckin' tea, Terry Silver!"

"What are yis hiding?" He looks from one to the other. "You've never liked him, John, and I've not held it against you, but if someone's messin' with my mate -"

"What, d'you think I want to get that one with pup?" There's no mirth in his laugh at all. "Your Robby is here more often than in his own feckin house because you keep breeding that punk and no one has a second of time for him!"

Betsy gasps. "John! No!"

Terry's smiles. "You're calling him a bad mother?"

"I know he's closer to my Tory than any of his own siblings -"

"Or might it be your Tory that won't leave him alone, huh? Since she has no siblings of her own?"

"Stop it, both of you!" Betsy says. Her eyes are wet with tears. "Daniel is staying in the hospital because this is a seventh pup out of a first litter and he needs a break!"

He laughs. "With respect, Betsy, how would you -"

John knocks him straight in the jaw. "Get out of my house, you gobshite!"

Terry laughs again, wipes the blood off his lip. "Or what?"

"I'll tell him how I found you four years ago," he says. "Try keepin him near ya then -"

"Jaysis, Mary an' Joseph!" Betsy stands behind her mate, holds his arm back. "Terry, we love you, but we don't want to be part of your marriage, do you understand?"

Terry can barely hear her through the panic. He looks to John. "You wouldn't."

"Terry, go. Just go." Betsy turns her head away.

He sniffs. "I want to know what's going on with -"

"Only God can help you there, Silver," John says. "Good feckin' luck!"

And for the first time in his life, John Kreese kicks him into the street.

"John!!!" He screams. "John feckin Kreese, if you dare, there will be no mercy, do you hear me? Not for you, your mate, your pup -"

There's no answer. The curtains close, and across the street he sees faces pulling back from windows. There's only the vague outlines of father Martin's church visible in the distance.

Well, fine. At this point, Terry feels ready to fight Him, too.

[pieheda]

So the fan theory is that Kreese murdered Tory’s mom. That’s how much he cares about winning karate tournaments. Enough to murder her mom and also make it look like a tragic but natural death.

Not only do I think this is true, I think he also killed Johnny’s mom. Johnny was an adult by then, but Kreese knew this would help him to manipulate Johnny 20 years later when they would inevitably be in the same dojo again. He probably also killed Mr. Miyagi, just out of spite. Snuck in the hospital and pulled the plug, it’s plausible. I wouldn’t put it past him.

He also traveled back in time and killed Daniel LaRusso’s father. Now I know you’re thinking, that doesn’t make any sense! Well, he was going to SAVE Daniel’s father because that would prevent Daniel from needed a father figure and finding that in Mr. Miyagi. But he realized that he didn’t want to avoid Daniel, he wanted to beat him, and so he killed Mr. LaRusso just to create that emotional tension. He thought it would alter the timeline, but this is when Kreese realized that the All Valley Under 18 Tournament was a fixed point in history, and that he was absolutely right to believe that teen karate tournaments really are the most important thing in the world.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: oh crap, Kreese killed Betsy! That’s where you’re wrong. Obviously Captain Turner arranged a special ops mission where he personally ran Betsy’s car off the road, so that in a key moment he could manipulate Kreese with this information. Just like all of the other bad behavior Kreese learned from Turner, he learned the trick of “kill what someone loves in order to emotionally manipulate them, even if you must bend space and time to do it” from Turner as well.

I predict that the big season ender is going to be Hilary Swank appearing as Julie Pierce to say “I am here to avenge my parents, who you killed in that car wreck so long ago!” and then taking him down.

[terrence-silver]

Been thinking about twig being the boy version of Betsy in John eyes

---

Will do you one better:

Of course, this is just speculation and reaching on my part, as always, and we're free to throw ponderings like this into the trash bin, but what if Twig, or rather, a young Terry Silver in Vietnam reminded John Kreese of himself...that is, the way he used to be; a young boy, son of a single, mentally ill mother, fatherless, ostracized, slightly marginalized, left to fend for himself in a time where all of these things would come with extreme societal judgement and isolation? Because, consider, along comes this boy, this guy called Silver, and he sure as heck doesn't fit in either. The way Terry doesn't fit in and the way John didn't fit in back in the States are two totally different ways of not fitting in, but still. Not fitting in is still not fitting in and that sort of thing comes with baggage. Of course, they're from totally different forms of life, entirely diverse classes and they'd probably never even meet or even have a chance to interact if it wasn't for the military, but something about the fact that Terry was already a teensy-tiny bit otherized for his appearent lack of experience, how green he was, how young, how soft, how scrawny, how wide-eyed...well...something about that might've caused a part of John's brain to just click off. Perhaps consciously, perhaps subconsciously.

Could be the same reason he fixated on Johnny Lawrence as much as he did. Another boy who was initially maladjusted before he found Cobra Kai. Son of a single mother. Fatherless. Then, later, saddled with a possibly overbearing stepfather. You name it. Another reflection of John Kreese himself. They even had the same name.

Hey, lets take it a step further --- could be why he felt as protective as he did over Kim Da Eun. Over Tory. Another pair of people with, yeah, you guessed it, broken families, Tory lacking a father figure altogether, having an ailing mother, financial issues, a little brother she has to care for all while being a kid herself and Da Eun having no parents whatsoever we ever see in the first place. Only a grandfather that is physically and mentally abusive towards her.

See a pattern here?

I think John Kreese takes people who remind him of the way he grew up and he, the way he sees it, places them under his wing and does right by them by helping them. Mentoring them. Tutoring them. Guiding them. By being their hero. He wants to be their hero. He might think this sappy, wimpy snowflake world desperately needs that kind of thing even though it doesn't admit to it, yet, all the more reason why this old fashioned ideal is a necessity --- because a world that forgets and neglects its heroes and ideals is a world in decline. He sees himself as such. He sees himself as the embodiment of these true, genuine ways. He saves them, these individuals, in ways nobody was ever there to save him. Or his mother. He fathers weak, vulnerable people instinctually because he didn't have a father figure himself, or, in his own words, he gives them life because they didn't have a life before him ---- naturally, he is often times a toxic father figure, especially to the likes of Johnny or even Tory in ways, but a father figure regardless, and from his mind's eyes, considering the era he must've grown up in, it is still better than having no father at all, seeing as how John Kreese was undoubtedly forced to grew up too fast if we read between the lines. Probably couldn't have been easy taking care of a mentally ill mother and being the head (and breadwinner?) of the family simultaneously. John Kreese must've been the de-facto father of his own family unit from a very young age because he had no choice but to be, meaning that he could've matured prematurely. Could've developed this instinct to father people before he could develop anything else.

Along comes scrawny Terry Silver and John's desire to protect him is immediate because the instinct was there long before John ever even contemplated going to Vietnam, and this protective instinct is there not because Terry reminds him of the boy version of Betsy, but because both Terry and Betsy remind him of aspects of how John himself grew up. Betsy could've been the archetype of something deeply defensive connected to this mother. Women being abused. Ways he might've protected his own mother against harassment too. His protectiveness towards Terry? A reflection of himself and all maladjusted boys; the type of maladjusted boy John Kreese could've been too, once upon a time, in an age that bypasses memory by now. Except, this time around, things can be different --- he can save these people. He can be the father. He can win. He can and will make the weak strong. Be number one. He can be these people's champion and in turn, they'll be his.

He sees himself as their maker as well as their protector.

Which is why John Kreese feels so silently entitled to all of his people to degree he does in the first place.

He can come and go as he pleases.

Disappear without a word.

Return randomly.

Demand things.

Not demand things.

Reject things.

Be too proud to be ever helped.

Then ask to be helped in the next breath.

He's your creator. He's earned that right. Every right.

[cobra-wives]

wildflower - billie eilish

[spookyninjaobservation]

Just imagine what Kreese would've been like had his beloved Betsy survived.

[puella-peanut]

Chit-Chat

Written for the @allvalley100 Word Drabble Challenge. This time it was “What You Don't Know” for Amnesty week. 100 words as counted by A03. Third fill.

...

"Golly, Betsy," Darlene complained over their fizzy-pops at the diner, "I only see you when your fella’s not around!" 

"I'm sorry," Betsy apologized. "It's just that we're trying to spend as much time together before he departs." 

"He's leaving for basic-training, right? Guess he's busy building up some muscle."

"Why, John doesn't need to," Betsy said, smiling as she searched her purse for a dime. "He's got plenty of them. I should know!"

She made her way to the jukebox, not-quite missing her friend’s scandalized expression. 

Oh Darlene, Betsy thought dreamily as she selected a song, what you don't know! 

…

All I’m saying is that they were together for a couple years before John joined/got drafted into the army—and that our boy John was a total hunk 😏 ♥️ Get it, Betsy! 💕🥰

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

John not being able to save Betsy so he made sure he saves Terry which is probably the boy version of Betsy in John head

I truly believe that John see Betsy in terry like in twig innocence well that innocence that John knows and the look of adoring in both Betsy and terry eyes when they look at John,him both grabbed gently on both there faces or necks,smiling at them with so much love and hope

Him fighting someone (captain turner and David) to save them both which get his nose bleeding