#main verse.: miyagi fang. — ❝ i ached for warmth & peace. the universe laughed at me. ❞

[taughtdefense]

HOT, COLD, YOU'RE POLARIZING. ITS MADE OF THE SAME SIDE (I TRIED). IT'S ETHER GRAY, OR BLACK OR WHITE! BUT IT'S NO USE IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT. (BUT IT'S NO USE IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT.) /// BROKEN RECORD IN THE MORNING, BROKEN RECORD AT NIGHT. IT'S THE SAME THING I SAY. OVER & OVER & OVER & OVER &— ///

THINK ABOUT NOTHING THINK ABOUT NOTHING THINK ABOUT NOTHING

THINK ABOUT EVERYTHING!

ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT THE BACK] ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OPEN] ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK ABOUT THAT EXIT SO BAD] ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT SOMEWHERE]

MIGHT BE A WAY OUT [OH NOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN?] [HAHA] THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT [OH NOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN?] [HAHA] THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT

[OH NOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN?] [HAHA]

THE OPTION IS GONE, ETHAN!

A study in Ethan's trauma due to his experiences with death at the hands of Terry Silver in Season 4, & the causation of the 'Silver Voice' & 'Silver Hallucination' in Season 5, & how it he torments him. /// @opponentcompel

[taughtdefense-a]

ETHAN, ROBBY, & THE AGONY OF NOT ACTUALLY ONE SIDED PINING.

ethan wilson, 3x05 ( miyagi-do ) // troye sivan, running shoes // christa wolf // ? // ? // ? // ? // robby keene, 3x05 ( miyagi-do )

[taughtdefense]

your fond smile widens into a grin at sam's words, reaching over to squeeze her hands delicately in yours, both thumbs running carefully over her knuckles. she's here, & she's smiling at you, & she loves you, & that's all that matters. she's one of the stronger grounding presences in your life.

❝ shiny things, hm? ❞ you echo, eyes full of a genuine fondness that you've seldom expressed with anyone else, a warmth that's specifically reserved for your girlfriend, your best friend, the girl who took you into her arms & helped shape you into the person you are today, along, of course, with robby. robby's influence on you CHANGING FOR THE BETTER is irrefutable. ❝ well, if anyone on this planet deserves a shiny ring, it's a hundred precent you. but i'd definitely marry you with paper rings, too, sam. ❞ ( you already have the rings for your four partners made. it's currently hidden in an area of your apartment that no one will be able to find it. ) ❝ that being said... i totally think a shiny ring might be better for for longevity's sake, at least over a paper one. ❞ you joke lightly. your thumb lightly traces her ring finger before you pull her hand up to your lips, gently kissing the back of her hand while maintaining eye contact. your heart swells with the amount of love you have for sam.

"I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings."

@taughtdefense liked for a starter

[taughtdefense]

FIGHT FOREVER CANON — 6x05: WHEN THE LEEVE BREAKS (HE'S COME UNDONE)

bonus: @taughtartist's potential reaction to the first bit of dialogue said by ethan ( & it only gets worse from there in the other gifs )

[taughtdefense]

send 💅 [nails] to paint my muse(s) nails. he's doing a shitty job :///

you quietly watch august as he carefully dips the brush into the nail polish bottle, his movements slow, deliberate—& completely ineffective. the first stroke starts out okay, but then the polish veers off course, a thick streak spilling over onto your skin. the result is even worse: uneven layers, smudges everywhere, polish pooling awkwardly at the edges of your nail.

it’s hard not to smile.

you've always appreciated his effort, but right now, his focus is endearing in a way that makes it impossible for you to feel annoyed. you know he’s trying his best, but it’s clear that precision isn’t his strong suit when it comes to nail polish. still, you don’t say anything—no teasing comment, no frustration, just patience. becoming a dad in various other lifetimes has done wonders for your patience. not to mention, this one.

you think about harper, how she’d probably shake her head at this point, maybe even take over with her tiny, confident hands perfectly done up, not a single glob or streak in sight on her nails. she’s only five, but the kid is a natural. it’s funny how someone so young can be so assured, while august, despite all his efforts, looks like he’s battling a puzzle he can’t quite solve. watching him struggle like this reminds you of her, & a small part of you wonders if maybe he could use a lesson or two from your five-year-old daughter.

as august messes up another stroke, the thought of harper showing him how it’s done almost makes you laugh. the image of her taking charge—probably with the same no-nonsense attitude she gets from tory—pops into your head, & you have to fight the urge to chuckle. you picture her, probably rolling her eyes in an overdramatic way that reminds you of yourself before snatching the brush from him, muttering something under her breath about “amateurs.” she’s all business when it comes to things like this.

but you stay quiet, letting august work through it, because your brother-figure is genuinely trying his best, & that’s what matters. his frustration is palpable, & you can feel the tension building in his shoulders, see the slight shake in his hands as he wipes off another botched attempt. you could step in, maybe even offer to finish it yourself, but you don’t. instead, you let him keep going, figuring that he’ll appreciate the space to figure it out on his own. you catch yourself halfway to raising your hand to stop him, but you let it drop—this is too entertaining to interrupt.

besides, you’ve always been patient, especially with the people you care about. august has always been there for you, even in moments when things felt impossible, when you would get stuck inside of your own head, caged yourself inside of your own apartment, & his stubbornness now, refusing to back down from something as small as a bottle of nail polish, is the same stubbornness that’s seen you through rough patches, that’s anchored you when the world seemed too much. so a few messy nails aren’t going to bother you. if anything, you find the whole thing kind of funny—& kind of sweet. the way he’s determined to get it right, even though it’s clearly not working, shows just how much he cares. it’s enough to make the smudges & streaks worth it.

you watch august fumble with the brush again, a thick glob of polish dripping dangerously close to your cuticle. you bite back a grin, eyes nearly flashing yellow in amusement, amused by the whole ordeal. there’s only so much you can take before the ridiculousness of the situation wins out.

"you know," you finally say to @familyabsconded, your tone light & playful, "if this doesn’t work out, i could always ask harper to back you up. she’s kind of a pro at this."

you can't help but smile wider, the thought of your five-year-old stepping in to show him how it's done making the moment even better.

[taughtdefense]

you’re standing in the kitchen when your phone buzzes. a simple text, just talia’s name lighting up the screen. you swipe it open, half expecting another one of her sarcastic remarks about life at cobra kai.

he confronted silver.

the words slam into you violently. the shock, the anger, the fear is immediate, & it hits harder than you expect, making your hands go cold. it takes you a second to process, your breath catching as your eyes move over the text again, & again, as if reading it enough times will make it mean something else. but it doesn’t.

you know exactly what she’s talking about. silver. your murderer. the man who’s haunted you, ripped your life apart at its seams, who you hear in your fucking head, even at this very second, & made your nights hell. he’s not just someone to you—he’s a monster, the monster who took you from him, who helped push you further away from him, who changed him, & not for the better. & now, robby—your robby—went off on his own & stood face-to-face with him.

you can almost see it. robby staring him down in the cobra kai dojo, that stupid upgraded look from what you saw on the tv screen & social media, that stupid twisted, dark, fucked up place, surrounded by those students silver manipulates just like he’s always done, always will, unless you, your friends & your senseis stop him.

you’ve confronted silver before, & look where it left you: broken, bleeding, dying in robby’s arms. dead in the ambulance, dead on the operating room table. now he’s going after him too? fear claws at your chest, mixed with something deeper, something darker—guilt & rage. because if silver ever hurt robby the way he hurt you...

you shut your eyes, your grip tightening around the phone, knuckles white. robby shouldn't be doing this. not for you. not against silver. but at the same time, you had a feeling he wouldn’t let this go. kenny. alison. tory. they’re all still in that dojo. silver terrorized the valley, tormented you, took so much from all of you. but robby probably felt it, just like you did when you confronted silver, like you do now—that pull to end this karate war once & for all.

your fingers hover over the screen, wanting to ask talia what happened next, but part of you already knows. robby’s strong, stronger than you ever give him credit for. but silver... silver plays with lives. twists them.

you lower the phone, heart pounding, mind racing. he confronted silver. & now you can’t stop wondering what that means—for robby, for you, for your friends—would silver retaliate, send his mindless soldiers after your friends?

you’re still staring at the phone when you hear the door creak open. a part of you already knows it’s @taughtpain , stepping into the apartment like nothing’s changed—like he didn’t just confront the man who killed you.

your jaw tightens, & your fingers twitch at your sides as he walks in. the sight of him coming back so casually sets something off inside you, like he didn’t just stare down the embodiment of everything you hate.

❝ what the fuck were you thinking, robert?! ❞ the words tear out of you before you can stop them, your voice sharp, almost shaking with the weight of your anger. no, not anger—fury. because how could he—how could he go in behind enemy lines like that & face him, silver, your murderer, alone?

❝ you went after him. silver. ❞ the name feels like poison on your tongue, & it only fuels the fire blazing in your chest. you can’t hold back the way your voice sharpens, cutting through the air like a blade. ❝ what, did you think i wouldn’t find out? that i wouldn’t know? ❞

the words snap out of you, venomous & raw, the intensity in your voice almost frightening. your emotional feedback loop is raging out of control, amplifying every single feeling to unbearable, overwhelming heights. wrath. fear. that unshakable, primal instinct to protect him, no matter the cost.

❝ you think going after him fixes fucking anything? did you think facing him would change what he did to me? to us? ❞ your voice cracks, but the fury remains, unrelenting, & only growing worse with each second. your hands are clenched so tightly into fists that you think you’ll break the skin of your palms. the room feels like it’s closing in, suffocating under the force of your emotions. each heartbeat slams against your chest as if your body can barely contain the sheer rage coursing through you. you’re shocked you eyes haven’t started glowing red—probably your Younger Self forced to step in to prevent your nonhuman nature from revealing itself.

how could he? you can’t stop picturing silver—his face, his twisted smile—& robby standing before him, walking right into enemy territory, again. you want to protect him, shield him from silver’s mind games, from all the darkness cobra kai represents. you’d rather die for robby for a third time than let silver go near him. but how can you when robby insists on throwing himself into the fire?

[taughtdefense]

ethan remains perched on top of the sparring deck at miyagi-do, his legs bent at the knees as he sort of squats on the edge of the deck next to a potted bonsai plant, simply enjoying the sunshine on his face. the sound of the koi pond’s water rushing is relaxing. miyagi-do is his home away from home. he’s wearing his orange earplugs today, & he feels all sorts of content. when he senses miguel enter the dojo’s backyard from the sliding doors, rather than sees him. he cracks one of his eyes open & moves to properly sit down on the deck, being incredibly mindful of his still-healing injury on his torso because of silver’s attack. he… doesn’t like talking about it. not with any of his friends, or even his parents, or robby, because he doesn’t want them to worry.

ethan’s mouth pulls up into a little grin when miguel laughs at his joke. he’s relieved he & robby are on speaking terms & on their way to becoming friends—it certainly makes ethan feel less tense. the tips of ethan’s ears warm at the mention of robby—a very typical thing these days. can one blame him? there are some days where he honestly can’t believe it: robby’s finally his boyfriend, after all of the bullshit that happened between them, because of everything—karate feuding & betrayals & moratoriums. there are still plenty of problems with the valley, & ethan’s newest traumas are still very fresh in his mind, but... well, he's taking it one day at a time.

good luck with getting rid of your trauma, ethan. we can both see how long it takes for you snap. the silver voice suddenly murmurs.

panic grips ethan's whole body for a second. he takes a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to keep eye contact with miguel so the other doesn't pick up on the fact that something's wrong. he's quick to push those thoughts out of his head... for now. if i don't think about that now, i won't spiral in front of miguel. he doesn't respond to the silver voice, but instead forces himself to perk up at the question while trying his damndest to push the silver voice back into the recesses of his mind. his fingers shake for a split second, & his internal spiral is only stopped by the fact that he gets to openly talk about his boyfriend.

❝ oh, not too long. ❞ ethan answers quietly, placing his hands in his lap, trying to will his pinkening ears away by sheer force of willpower alone. it doesn't work as well as he'd hoped, but he definitely thinks he deserves points for trying, maybe miguel doesn't notice... ❝ it’s only been two weeks. it was after terry silver... ❞ he takes a deep breath, ❝ well... ❞ a hand motions to the scar above his abs, his face momentarily twisting in discomfort. quickly & unwilling to dwell on painful, traumatic memories, he tries to switch topics.

❝ uh, so... johnny actually told me that mr. larusso put the idea in his head to make you two fight out your differences at your apartment complex. ❞ ethan had been pretty surprised hearing that fact after it had already been done—that's a very, very different approach from his sensei's normal style. ❝ he basically barred me from being with robby that day. i was pretty pissed off with him. i-i think he thinks i would have... stepped in. ❞ he would have. it wouldn't have been to hurt miguel, though. it would have been to physically defend robby, or yell at johnny for the absolutely stupid goddamned idea of having them fight, after everything that happened at the school, given the fallout from that. again, ethan would have. he'd have done that in a heartbeat.

[taughtdefense]

ETHAN WILSON-KEENE + PROTECTING HIS FRIENDS.

mutuals with an ethan tag may reblog !

bonus gif:

[taughtdefense]

your fingers are shakingshakingSHAKING as they clutch desperately at the colored news article you'd printed out in a blind panic a few minutes ago. the paper displays kreese's & silver's mugshot from a few weeks back, which triggered something to SNAP in you. your brown eyes are blown as wide as saucers as you quickly scan through the over-highlighted text, highlighted in various colors, color-coded. you completely ignore your best friend's presence for a moment. it's almost you're expecting the words to change, or for silver to leap out at you, so he can finish the job. but the text never changes, the bruises YOU gave him never fade from his face. your chest heaves rapidly, & you're clearly on the verge of a panic attack that's been brewing all goddamn day. maybe for months.

your current location is a warehouse, which you'd bought-outright... specifically & only for the purpose of tracking kreese's & silver's movements. the room spins dangerously in your vision as the buzzing in your ears grows louder. the space around you is a goddamn chaotic, unorganized mess, the blackout curtains drawn over the windows, refusing to let any natural light in. the only lights that are on right now are super fucking bright, & are angled towards the wall that shows a pretty extensive evidence board covering a portion of the warehouse walls. it details everything that you deem necessary regarding everything that's happened in the valley; kreese's undermining of johnny for one, the flagship cobra kai dojo, for another, to silver's other locations he'd opened across the valley, for another. flight paths around the world, for another. but everything has a place to be here.

WHAT IF JOHN KREESE REALLY ISN'T DEAD?

TERRY SILVER IS FREE. HE HAS TO BE.

silver's picture is smack-dab in the middle of the evidence board. red strings point at his picture from various evidences you've collected over the past few weeks. a picture of the bloodstained katana he used to KILL YOU is slotted next to his picture, which is connected by a red string.

the room doesn't stop spinning, & your breathing goes from strained to panicked, & you start gasping for air you can't get. the room feels boiling hot like you'd just submerged yourself into an active volcano, your shaking hands are hot & clammy with sweat. you kind of want to let gravity do it's thing—by that, you want your legs to crumble underneath you so you can crack your head open & bleed everywhere onto the table that's next to you, full of other items & ramblings & balls of red fucking strings you haven't put up yet. maybe passing out would grant you a few hours of peace. ( IT WON'T. ) but no hospitals. you've already been to the hospital more times than you've ever really thought you'd be in this lifetime. three times in the hospital bed, a handful of times stuck in the waiting room, waiting for news about your friends' conditions. sam's, demetri's, emma's, calla's. the list goes on & on. your friends have gotten hurt so many fucking times because of the karate war.

& your best friend miguel—

@recurrere / miguel stares at you.

something small in you frays further, is tugged apart like a thin thread, & you make no move to repair it. you can't tell what frayed, just that something did at his expression. the look on his face makes you want to throw up.

it makes you want to take a running start towards the top floor of the warehouse. you'll take a swan dive out the window & fall onto the pavement below, so you never have to see that look on your best friend's face ever again.

❛ you're a dumbass. you should have known he was tailing us. this is your fuck-up, not mine. ❜ your Younger Self snarls viciously at you, his tone venomous, & you nod jerkily in agreement, breathing hard. you don't defend yourself. he's totally fucking right, of course. ❛ he's going to tattle on you/me/us to sam, tory, & our miguel. johnny, daniel, sanji, olen, lucienne, our friends & our parents... everyone will fucking know! HE'S GONG TO TELL ROBBY, & we'll fucking lose him forever. it's all BECAUSE OF YOU! ❜ he screams at you, his/your voice warping as he loses his/your human-ness, reverting back towards something much more INHUMAN. his panic certainly isn't helping yours—goddamn vicious emotions-feedback loop.

❝ i know, i know. ❞ you breathe, sounding downright miserable, but acceptive of whatever wrath he feels. ( but miguel hadn't said anything, he hadn't even opened his mouth. you're talking to your Younger Self, & that... that definitely doesn't look good— FUCK! ) ❝ i-i'm sorry. i-i didn't... i just... ❞ the next words die somewhere on the way out of your throat. your fingers almost ball up into fists, but your Younger Self immediately screams, warning you about ruining the evidence, so you throw silver's mugshot onto the table like you're expecting the paper to suddenly explode. it doesn't.

without warning or any indication, you turn FAR too sharply towards miguel suddenly, a smidge too fast to be human. ❝ no, no. no. just stop. don't look at me like that. i'm not... i'm not losing my mind. i'm... not. ❞ then, louder, before he can even get a fucking word in: ❝ i knew this w-was a mistake, letting you step past the fucking d-door. ❞ you bark out a laugh, but it sounds more like a broken sob.

WELL, THIRD, WHICH ONE IS IT? ARE YOU FUCKING LAUGHING OR CRYING? DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW? DO YOU KNOW WHICH FORM YOU'RE WALKING AROUND AS RIGHT NOW?

ARE YOU SURE TERRY SILVER DIDN'T SUCCESSFULLY KILL YOU?

the words just keep tumbling from your mouth, & you sound hysterical. ❝ god, i'm s-so fucking stupid. i... should've know that none of you would fucking understand. mr. larusso probably e-even wouldn't. i'm the o-only one who does, because i've been the only one who's been MURDERED before. YOU DON'T FUCKING GET IT! ❞ you're ranting, screaming in general, all of the emotions you'd shoved down of the past half-year starting to broil over.

breathing hard, your hands reach out to grab miguel by the front of his shirt, yanking your friend closer to you abruptly, your knuckles an alarming shade of white. you don't move to punch him. your crazed, hysteria-filled eyes burn into his, but your voice drops down to a whisper.

the Silver Voice was right—

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER IF YOU HAD FUCKING DIED—

❝ why did you follow m-me, miguel? why... why? ❞

[taughtdefense]

ethan takes a slow breath, letting the noise of the dojo wash over him, but his attention stays fixed on @himbohotel. his brother-in-law is standing off to the side, hands clenched, a streak of blood beneath his nose—a souvenir from kenny's uppercut. anthony's trying to act like it's nothing, like he's unaffected by not making the top five, while ethan & his fiancés—robby, sam, miguel & tory—stand in the spotlight, their names on everyone's lips, including wade's & vanessa's, your parents-&-everyone's-karate-senseis. while listening to everyone's excited chatter, your eldritch senses picked up on the fact that anthony snuck into the dojo, so you gave him a few minutes to keep to himself before heading in after him.

but anthony's deflecting with sarcasm, bristling before ethan can even open his mouth. typical larusso move, ethan thinks, but there's no bitterness in it—only understanding. he's not a larusso by blood, but he lived with them for a year. he can pick up on that sarcasm, even without his eldritch abilities. wade, his dad, practically invented the word, & ethan perfected it.

he catches the bitter look he sends his way & steps forward, careful & calm. he recognizes that deflecting sarcasm in anthony's voice, the same prickly walls he himself has used to keep people at arm's length, exactly like when robby—his now-fiancé—had joined cobra kai. & he knows the sting of falling short in front of everyone. maybe not really in this lifetime, but others for sure. this isn't the time for big speeches, he thinks, but he's not about to leave anthony to stew in his misery & embarrassment, either.

"yeah, right," ethan says, arching a brow with just enough sarcasm to match anthony's. he twists his engagement ring on his ring finger a handful of times, the lapis lazuli band catching in the sunlight. "you're good. because 'good' means bleeding, getting clocked by kenny, & scowling at everyone who gets close." he pauses, letting the words sink in, his tone lighter but laced with understanding. he's not trying to rub it in, but he wants anthony to know he sees him, that he's not buying the tough act. he knows what that look is like.

even though his eyes flicker towards the blood on the collar of his gi, ethan says nothing. his eyes move back up towards his, & then he doesn't look away from anthony's face. he takes a step closer, his voice dropping, losing the sarcasm. "look," he starts, "i know what it feels like to lose." the school fight, for one—the battle against his brother (preston) & ex-karate rival (nolan) flashes in his mind, & he grimaces slightly, his face darkening for a split second. "to feel like everyone's waiting to see if you're going to fall apart." he glances over his shoulder, where sam, tory, miguel, & robby are accepting congratulations with warm smiles, the crowd’s praise palpable. miguel glances over at him, & he smiles at him before turning his attention back towards the younger teen. "but i'm here because you're my family now." & he means that literally, despite whatever anger he had towards ethan when he lived with the larusso's. he's literally engaged to his sister. "even if you weren't, i'd still be here, checking up on you. you don't have to be alone in this, anthony."

"but if you want me to leave, just say it, & i'm gone," he says, steady & sincere. "but i'm not here to pity you, or make fun of you. just… here, because i know what it's like to stand where you are."

ethan tilts his head, leaving the choice in anthony's hands, letting his brother-in-law know he's here, but he won't push.

[taughtdefense]

freshly-formed, half-bruised, half-split raw knuckles sting & throb with every beat of your heart, every beat of your pulse making the stinging-burning that much worse. there’s a bruise forming on your jaw, deep purple & red & fresh & you feel nothing, as you’ve felt for a long time. it hurts to touch. you don’t need medical attention—as soon as courtney leaves your apartment, you’ll watch as your skin stitches itself together, healing recently-formed physical wounds, but making new ones... or worsening the ones you’ve refused to heal: the psychological & emotional ones. because you’re you, you’ll keep it under lock & key, let it fester until it swells, bursts & irreversibly rots you from the inside out, outside in.

it’s only a matter of time before you shatter completely.

( HAVEN’T YOU ALREADY ? ISN’T THE BLOOD STAINING YOUR HANDS INEXTRICABLE PROOF OF THAT ? )

but it’s fine. you’re fine—

—even if robby’s gone. it’s everyone’s faults, including yours, you think. it’s johnny’s & yours &- well, you didn’t fight for him hard enough. silver & kreese’s machiavellian philosophies, bred from nothing but an obsession over a feud that should be fetid, have already been slowly subtly woven into the heart of the valley. them & their imposing, seemingly limitless power still looms over everyone’s heads like the sword of damocles. it’s only a matter of time before the sword pierces the neck. the knowledge makes you SICK. you know you can’t stop it, not completely, try as you, mr. larusso, sam, miguel, johnny, your dad & miyagi-do might. & trust you, you’re all trying. giving up isn’t in their vocabulary, so it shouldn’t be in yours.

it hadn’t been, a while ago. now, though? it is. as for you, your cells are being pulled a little more into the cataclysm of empty, cold despair every time you breathe. you’ve been avoiding robby as much as physically possible, & you’re sure he’s doing the same thing. there’s too much… NOTHING there anymore.

whatever you two had, it’s dead, gone, buried, ripped away from you when he decided to join cobra kai. you know he hates you, & you don’t know how to move on from that. you don’t even know if you can live with that.

you’re sitting on the couch in your apartment, staring a courtney in the kitchen, eyes devoid of life. kyler & the rest of cobra kai had gotten you good. they pretty much cornered you, & you barely even fought back. because it was penance in the form of gang karate violence, & you feel nothing. in any other universe you’d probably have killed them. you didn’t. that’s progress, if nothing else. by the time you’d dragged yourself back to your apartment & shot courtney a quick text providing context of the violence—( once they realized you were alone, cobra kai struck first. they, with their numbers in mass, hit harder. you didn’t want to wind up in jail for homicide, even if it’s justifiable. )—you’d effectively shut down. because robby was referred to as his title while you blinked blood away from your eyes & spit out blood on kyler’s shoes defiantly & tried to remember why you fell in love with him in the first place. when you stopped.

( & HERE’S THE PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE: YOU HAVEN’T. )

you might as well be a corpse that blinks, eyes wiped clean of your usual chaotic spark, now filled with a yawning emptiness—once bitten, twice shy, thrice empty. you have to deal with the consequences of falling in love with robby keene. ( YOU DON’T KNOW IF YOU CAN. ) there’s a hole in your heart, & you can’t find the strength to find something to staunch the blood flow. maybe you deserve robby’s hatred.

I LOVE YOU. I’VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU. IT’S RUINING MY LIFE.

but courtney asks you if they deserved it. if you really believe that they did.

you don’t even hesitate.

❝ if i didn’t believe it was true, i wouldn’t have said it in the first place, c. ❞ you respond, cadence wiped clean of emotion, the nickname rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself. ❝ you should know me well enough by now to know that i rarely ever sugarcoat things that i don’t believe explicitly need sugarcoating, yeah? ❞ you pause, then lean back on the couch, mindful of your injuries.

❝ but it is true: they struck first. i was only defending myself. intentionally provoking them isn’t quite the miyagi-do way, despite what sam is currently breaking away from… from what we’ve both seen lately. ❞ you add as an afterthought. you can understand why your best friend is, though, because it’s a path you’re probably already heading down, too. you don’t smile after, like you normally would’ve. this stupid karate war has effectively changed you, & not for the better. you clench your hands into fists, body screaming in protest as you do so. you slowly stand up from the couch, walking over to your best friend, brown eyes instinctually scanning hers, like injuries might blossom on her skin, all courtesy of the fucking valley-wide karate war.

❝ they deserved it? do you really believe that, @taughtdefense? ❞

[taughtdefense]

❝ i love you, eth. it's ruining my life. ❞

2x09. canon interaction. | drabble featuring @taughtranquility

moon’s big end-of-summer party has spiraled into disaster. ultimately, coming here is a bad idea—for various reasons. mostly, the tension between miyagi-do & cobra kai ruins any chance of enjoying the night. watching cobra kai students like tory & a handful of others flaunt their new confidence from kreese's teachings makes everything feel off. even though you, robby, & the others try to stick together, it’s hard to ignore the clear divide.

you keep an eye on sam & tory’s drinking game from beside robby, feeling your unease grow. sam is on her fifth or sixth shot now, her legs starting to wobble as she perches on one of the oak stools dragged out from the kitchen. every time she downs another drink, a part of you wants to step in, say something, but you know better. sam has a stubborn streak, especially when tory is involved. trying to stop her will only make things worse, & you don’t want sam to get mad at you.

tory eventually loses the game, her competitive streak flaring up as she stumbles off the stool. she mutters something under her breath about sam being a spoiled brat, but it’s too low for anyone else to hear. tory storms off to clean herself up, her crew—scarlett, paze, nova, stef, allison, rowan & cosima—quickly following behind her. you notice cosima hesitate for a moment, glancing back at robby before disappearing into the house, but you don’t press robby for more details despite your curiosity. you’d seen the tenseness between hawk & demetri, too, & that concerned you.

the whole night feels like a disaster waiting to happen. you have no desire to be caught in the middle of it.

after making sure sam isn’t drinking anything else for the moment, you slip outside for some air. while the others continue partying inside, you find yourself in the backyard, trying to take a breather. the yard is a mess—solo cups & beer cans litter the grass, plates of half-eaten food abandoned on the patio. the sticky late-august air clings to your skin, making you feel like you’re drowning in humidity.

you barely glance at your phone when it buzzes in your pocket. the night is supposed to be fun, but it feels more like a battlefield. you don’t even need to turn around when you hear the familiar footsteps behind you.

"eth."

miguel’s voice is quiet but sharp, cutting through the night. you sigh, already knowing where this is going. the tension between you has been building for a while now—ever since kreese started filling miguel’s head with all of that "no mercy" shit.

you turn to face him, your heart sinking at the sight of the tightness in his jaw, the frustration in his eyes. "miguel."

he takes a step closer, his hands shoved into his pockets. "what are you doing out here? the party’s inside."

you shrug, adjusting your green earplugs. "needed some air. it’s a lot in there. loud, too."

"yeah, well, it’s a party, & our dojos are enemies," he says, his tone dismissive. "what’d you expect?"

you narrow your eyes, watching the way his shoulders are tense, like he’s holding back. miguel wasn’t like this before—not with you. but ever since cobra kai & that sensei kreese came into the picture, something has changed. he isn’t just your best friend anymore; he’s something harder, colder. you don’t like it, who he’s become. you miss your best friend.

"look, i don’t want to do this," you say, running a hand through your hair. "i know things are different now, but we’re still friends, miguel."

his jaw tightens, & he looks away, scoffing. "friends? you’re fully committed to miyagi-do now. we’re not on the same side anymore."

the words sting more than you expect. "i didn’t choose this. you did."

miguel’s eyes snap back to yours, his frustration evident. "yeah, well, maybe i made the right choice. robby sure as hell didn’t."

hearing him bring up robby makes your blood boil. you have no idea what he’s talking about—robby hasn’t made any wrong choices, especially not when it comes to sticking with miyagi-do. "what the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

miguel’s jaw clenches, his voice sharp. "it means he’s gonna get himself hurt again. he’s too soft, eth. all that balance & peace crap—it won’t save him when someone knocks him down, & you know it. he’s setting himself up to fail, just like johnny did."

you feel the heat rising in your chest, your frustration spiking. "robby’s not weak." your voice is firm, even though your chest tightens. "he’s been through more than you could even imagine. you don’t know him like i do. all you see with him is your hatred, whatever tensions are between you two & johnny, & then you two & sam." & me.

miguel scoffs again, rolling his eyes. "oh, right. because he’s all about peace & balance, right? that’s not gonna help him when he gets knocked down again."

you feel your temper rising, but you force yourself to stay calm. "robby doesn’t deserve to be your enemy, miguel. you just can’t see that because you’re too wrapped up in all this 'no mercy' crap your new weird fucking sensei has been funneling to you."

miguel’s eyes darken, his fists clenching at his sides. "don’t act like you’re better than me or cobra kai just because you’re with miyagi-do. zealotry isn't a good look on anyone, but especially not you, eth. robby’s not some saint."

"& you are? you say that i'm a zealot because of my allegiance to miyagi-do, but have you looked in a mirror recently? pot, meet fucking kettle." you fire back, tone cold. "at least we chose something that doesn’t turn kids into fucking monsters who don’t give a shit about who they hurt. as long as they get what they want out of it, & damn the rest of us, right?" you snap, stepping closer. "he chose something better, something that’s not about hurting people to assert a twisted sense of violent dominance. or did your new mentality make you somehow magically forget what you did to him in the all valley?"

miguel’s breath hitches, his expression shifting. you see something break in his eyes—a crack in the anger he's been holding onto. his voice lowers, softer now, almost trembling. "you think i don’t know that?" he shakes his head, as if trying to shake off the weight. "i... i know. it’s just..." his gaze drops to the ground, & then he looks at you with a raw intensity. "i can’t stop thinking about you. i love you, eth. it’s ruining my life."

you freeze entirely, your heart & stomach lurching violently for entirely different reasons. the air is stolen from your lungs.

what the fuck. ...what the fuck?

before you can process anything he says, miguel steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches for you. his fingers wrap gently around your wrist, the touch soft but deliberate. "eth..."

& then, with a quiet breath, he leans in. his lips brush against yours, tentative & slow, like he’s unsure, like he’s asking for permission without saying a word.

it’s soft—softer than you ever thought miguel could be. for a moment, you stand frozen, caught in the gentle pressure of the kiss. it doesn’t feel desperate or intense, but it catches you off guard all the same.

as your eyes flutter shut, your mind immediately conjures an image of someone else—robby. it’s not miguel’s, but robby’s lips you imagine instead, the way you’ve thought about kissing him so many times. robby’s hands, robby’s warmth. everything about this moment feels wrong because the person kissing you isn’t him.

as quickly as the kiss starts, you pull away, your heart pounding. your breath catches in your throat, but all you can think about is the guilt swirling inside you. "miguel, i—"

he steps back, just as shocked as you, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "eth—"

but you shake your head, the words finally catching up to you. "i can’t. i’m sorry. i don’t feel that way."

the words hang heavy in the thick night air. miguel’s face falls, a flash of pain crossing his features before he masks it, his expression hardening once more.

"right," he mutters, his voice sharp, & it almost makes you wince. "of course. robby."

you don’t deny it. how could you? robby is the one of the only people in this world who has been there through everything, the one who stands by your side, who believes in you when others don’t. he makes you better, believes you can be more than the monster your Creators have always wanted you to be.

"yeah," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "robby."

miguel takes another step back, his expression unreadable now as he closes himself off from you, which hurts. the tension between you feels unbearable, like a weight pressing down on your chest. without another word, he turns & walks away, back towards the house, leaving you standing there, the sound of the party faint in the distance.

you inhale shakily, then let out the breath, smoothing down your flannel with slightly trembling hands. your thoughts are spinning almost as quickly as your heart is currently racing. you need to talk to robby.

[taughtdefense]

— ( ❝ congratulations, keene. you just burnt the last bridge. you know, i really thought you’d be different from the rest of your little gang. i was wrong. stay the hell away from me & my friends. ❞ ) — ethan wilson to robby keene, in between 4x06 ( kicks get chicks ) & 4x07 ( minefields ).

ON MIYAGI!ETHAN WILSON'S FEELINGS FOR ROBBY KEENE THROUGHOUT SEASON FOUR.

( THE BEGINNING. THE MIDDLE. THE END. )

@taughtpain

[taughtdefense-a]

ETHAN, ROBBY, & BETRAYAL AS A CONFIRMATION OF LOVE.

ethan wilson, 3x10 ( december 19 ) / alan foster, the fall / richard silken, the long and the short of it / comic by alisonzai on instagram / ? / f scott fitzgerald, the great gatsby / fall out boy, miss missing you / f scott fitzgerald, the great gatsby / ludovico carracci, the kiss of judas / robby keene, 3x10 ( december 19 )

[taughtdefense]

splasharama is certainly ( unsurprisingly, it should be noted ) overwhelmingly packed, barely a sun lounger unoccupied. the concessions stand a little ways back near the entrance is swarmed by esurient families with equally esurient, grubby-handed children. due to his height, ethan'd gotten stared at the entire way, naturally. he's kind of regretting telling his friends that he & robby would be on their way. they could have skipped out & remained in their own apartment together.

their own little bubble.

yes, let him emphasize that it's their apartment, because of course robby's already moved in after returning from the trip to mexico he was whisked away on, to thanks to a certain sensei of ethan's... while he was still in the hospital recovering from his... silver-obtained physical traumas. he's pretty sure that's the reason why johnny didn't invite him, anyway. if he was fully healthy, he likes to think that he'd have gone with them. ) if anyone notices the hickey on the side of ethan's neck, he's just going to say he ran into a door—neck first. & that it hurt like a motherfucker. it's why he's wearing an appropriate-for-the-summer-heat shirt despite the heat. & to hide his recently-obtained scar.

( fucking silver. piece of shit.

...& yeah, his friends are definitely not going to believe that first excuse, but ethan already knows that. )

christ. he's an eldritch being, & here he is, shy over a silly hickey. but he's also robby's boyfriend, & the newness is exciting!

he would have heavily preferred to be out of the heat & away from the current karate dojo drama, because cobra kai had the same idea as ethan & his miyagi-do/eagle fang friends had... & here they all are, bickering.

it's as exhausting as it is really fucking predictable. the only saving grace you know of is that robby's not on the other side of the fence this time. small victories.

on a slightly unrelated—but no less unimportant—note, he wonders if he's going to get an opportunity to kick kyler's ass soon. unfortunately, said opportunity hasn't present itself quite yet for this go around ( robby's cobra kai stint is definitely another story ), & ethan has a lot of pent up rage given the... circumstances surrounding his recently-formed demons, & cobra kai's stupid expansion, & his murderer: silver himself. the Silver Voice kind of wants him to hurt kyler, he says so. he considers it for a brief moment, imagining himself getting up & storming up to him, knocking him flat on the pavement in a single, powerful move. it's super tempting to beat his bully up into a pulp. his hands flex slightly, a small bit of adrenaline flooding his body. maybe that'd even get the Silver Voice to shut the hell up for a few hours.

he's stopped by the sound of courtney's voice. brown eyes cut from the group, whose collective voices are only increasing in volume. he no longer listens to the Silver Voice, instead deciding to listen to c. his briefly red-flickering pupils are hidden behind his sunglasses, thankfully. ethan is quick to mirror her done expression, & he doesn't even have to play it up.

❝ fine, i'll ignore them for now. but if they throw the first punch at my boyfriend, you'll have to look away. ❞ ethan warns, absentmindedly reaching a sun-warmed hand over to tuck a piece of askew blond hair out of her face, behind her ear. ❝ maybe their psychopathic billionaire can dip into his funds to pay for medical bills, yeah? ❞ it's impossible to tell if he's serious or joking.

for the past few years her entire life revolved around karate. from early mornings to late afternoons, it was always at the forefront of her mind. she enjoyed every moment. that was until she started to witness her friends get hurt both left and right. something that was meant to be an art turned into a blood sport. the passion she once had has left the building and she's unsure that it'll ever come back. " it's not worth it, @taughtdefense. " courtney let out a sigh, leaning her head back in one of splasharama's sun loungers, her hands going up to shield her eyes from the sun as she attempts to make eye contact with the other. " ignore them. they obviously just want our attention. but let's not give it to them, yeah? "

[taughtdefense-a]

❝ back for round two, i see, ethan. you're not worried about your friends witnessing our fight? ❞ terry hums, then narrows his eyes. ❝ don't worry, i'll make it quick. for robby's sake. ❞

the unbridled rage that flashes across ethan's face at the mention of his soulmate doesn't go unnoticed. ❝ i'm not afraid of you. i just want to kill you. ❞ he responds icily.

the boy that is standing in front of the group is vastly different from the one they know. it makes their heads spin. the expression on his face is utterly terrifying. no one has ever seen it on ethan's face before. for some reason, he doesn't feel like he's the same ethan wilson they know - the one who could barely block a punch during the training exercises with sensei toguchi. he's darker.

❝ oh? is that genuine bloodlust i'm detecting right now? ❞

❝ you have no fucking idea. ❞

❝ good. let's get started. ❞

A LEVIATHAN & AN ABOMINATION.

terry silver, 5x10 ( head of the snake ) / CONFUCIUS / ethan wilson, 5x10 ( head of the snake )