All Valley, All Attitude

You know, as much as I would love to watch you and your childhood karate rival duke it out, I kinda don't wanna get any blood on the patio, so what do you say we try to resolve this over some breakfast instead?

Rules

Muses

Cobra Kai Multimuse RP Sideblog, featuring the muses Amanda and Samantha LaRusso, Tory Nichols, and Demetri Alexopoulos (honorary babe status).

//ignore my busy desk but LOOK WHAT I FOUND AT TARGET TODAY

the totally not-miguel Miguel Red Eagle Power Ranger toy (they also had a ton of johnny and the skeleputty but I already have a normal johnny figure)

SAMANTHA | @babezruthless​ - S4: POST ALL VALLEY

          (  !!!  )  A curse is muttered under his breath as the alarm begins to blare, the bag slung over his shoulder quickly dropped to the ground as fingertips frantically jab at the buttons adjacent to the entrance, members of the family forlornly shuffling past after what seemed to be one of the longest evenings of their lives. Amanda takes care of the exasperating requisite phone call to the security company while Daniel looks towards a shock of dark shaggy hair to elicit some help, his tone providing a feigned means of levity despite an overwhelming ache that resides at the centre of the man’s chest.  “Antonio, we still have a few more bags in the trunk. Can you give me a ha—?”  The boy’s already on the way to his bedroom before the request is completed, brown eyes narrowing in mild confusion for the sullen attitude that seems to come out of nowhere - he can understand a sense of compassion and solidarity with his sister, but had Daniel missed something?  (  alright, one disaster at a time…  ).  

                    It’s with a sigh that the brunet heads back outside into the comparable darkness towards the car, his steps slow as he simply goes through the motions, thoughts a little distant as the man contemplates the ramifications of the dōjō’s overall loss at the tournament - in normal circumstances it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but there’s a looming storm cloud that he perceptively envisages in the distance, of trials and tribulations that would only worsen for the kids that innocently found themselves in the heinous clutches of the likes of Silver and Kreese  (  extreme situations require extreme measures  ).  He’s disquietly staring into the cavernous opening of the back of the vehicle, the logo of a bonsai tree reflected back with a deepened shadow cast over it, lips pressing into a thin line with a slow breath drawing out—  when he catches something within his periphery, gaze flicking across to a small silhouette standing to one side in isolation.  “Sam?”  She had been quiet during the ride home, conversation having grown stilted with the exchange of reassurances at the sports arena that did very little to assuage disappointment.  “You coming inside?”

The whooping shriek of the house alarm did little to surprise Samantha at this point- she’d almost come to expect it, accept it even. And it didn’t really even matter, as the rest of her family got out of the car first. Dad, then mom, then Anthony. Not a one of them could think of anything worthwhile to say on the drive home from the sports center, and it was just as well. Sam couldn’t find the right words, or any words, inside of her. Well, not her own. Other words echoed in her head like the pounding of blood in her ears.

You’re not getting what you want. They know our moves. I don’t take orders from tiny little bitches. If you want to sit in the backseat your whole life, go ahead. Point! Winner- Nichols.

Sam couldn’t bring herself to stop crying in the car, the silent kind of crying that wracked your whole body and yet you couldn’t move. No sniffling, no sobbing, no trembling shoulders. Frozen. Overcome. The blood in her face throbbed and made her bruised eye ache, every heartbeat feeling like another blow from Tory.

She’d at least brought herself out of the car while the remaining LaRussos shuffled inside, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to go inside. The last thing Sam wanted was empty reassurances from her parents, least of all her dad. They couldn’t pretend like this didn’t matter all of a sudden just because they lost. When her father addressed her, her words were cold, but the hurt wasn’t directed at him exactly. 

“We don’t have to give up the house with the dojo, do we?”

It wasn’t an earnest question, more of one with which she hoped to understand the scope of their loss. Everyone else did exactly what they were supposed to- Eli even won his match. It really did come down to her loss. To Tory, the very person she thought she was finally ready to face. To show she couldn’t be bullied. And through it all, Sam couldn’t decide if she was glad or devastated that Miguel hadn’t been there to see it all go down.

At least she had the karate with which to let it all out? For him, the cathartic and expressive hobby was music. D&D - that was the oft needed fun escape from reality. Maybe if Tory had something like that, it would help - but he doubted she’d be interested in that specific suggestion. Even if she was, where would she find the time? Karate was her hobby, but… was it really fun? He supposed that was subjective. Between that, school, work, and taking care of her family - it didn’t sound like she had all that much time for such things.

“Really? On top of everything else you’ve got going on in your life, you also keep track of your neighbor’s gigs? His practice schedule? …I’ve never seen you at a show.”

He shrugs, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette before deciding against it. She might not want him to do that right in front of her place, not even considering the little brother and the sick mom who might choke on any smoke that blows in through the shattered window.

“Just got back, actually… when I heard the commotion. You could say I got concerned. Or nosy. Six of one…”

“Most of those venues have a 21 and up policy,” she shrugged. Not that that would always stop her- she had friends that worked some of the bars and could get her in. Not that Tory was exactly flush with free time to go to music gigs, but she was curious enough for sure. And it might be somewhere fun to go with Robby. “For the record, I’m not keeping track like that. But I pay attention.”

Tory moved to brush some of the glass shards from the windowsill and out onto the patio. The landlord could deal with it if he wanted, she didn’t give a shit. Pretty sure she had some minimally-greasy cardboard from a Domino’s pizza box she could use to patch the hole for now. “Yeah, I could say that. Seems like most people in this place don’t really want to get involved in their neighbors’ crap. Keep their heads down, pay their rent. Wrestle stuck underwear out of those godawful washing machines.”

⚡ ❰❰ @babezruthless - Sam // s.c. ❱❱

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ YOU’RE BEING DRAMATIC ! Yzma is harmless !! ❞

Nichols seemed to have some pretty shit luck, but she didn’t seem like a bad kid. She didn’t need a lecture, either. Even if she did - who the hell was he to give it? She seemed much more disciplined than he was. Maybe it was the karate, maybe it was just because she had to be. She had too many responsibilities, too many worries… but she didn’t need him to tell her that either.

Did she have any sort of support system? Other relatives? Friends who knew and could help her out? Was it a pride thing, a trust thing, or…? It was none of his business. But damn.

“…I don’t know you that well, but I know that you’re not stupid. That kid probably was thoughtless and careless, but you’re don’t seem to be. You can’t afford to be. And I appreciate your restraint in not punching me in the face for speaking on it. I didn’t… you know your own shit better than I do.”

“Yeah, well... I wish I didn’t have so much shit to keep on top of.”

She thought about Sam LaRusso, who probably never worked a day in her life because her daddy’s money could take care of everything. Damn, if winning a karate tournament could change someone’s life like that, no wonder Tory was willing to do whatever it would take to come out on top. Sensei Kreese understood the value of winning too- he’d trained champions. He was training her. She was a born fighter, which meant she didn’t get to take time off, not really. Fighting for herself, protecting Brandon, caring for her mother. Just not every problem could be punched.

Tory didn’t really want to talk about the baseball anymore. She had glass to clean- big pieces could be picked up by hand, the rest she could vacuum. Didn’t want some of that debris tearing up the machine. And her hands? She’d be careful.