#terri's revenge!

[p4nishers]

one of the most important things terry pratchett has taught me is that it's okay to be angry. no one has ever said that to me before. he taught me that anger was an engine. that you can use that anger. that it goes hand in hand with love. he taught me to never underestimate my anger, because it's one of my strongest points. he taught me genuine anger was one of the world’s great creative forces. he taught me i shouldn't be fighting my anger, but what caused it. he himself said rage underlines everything he wrote. i never heard anger talked about so openly like that before and it's freeing, i suppose, to realize you are truly, truly not alone in your rage at the world. you never were.

[oldschoolfrp]

A corpse emerges from the mushroom-covered midden and cries out "You cant make me leave! Never! I'll guard my home forever!" This is a reasonable reaction to being awakened suddenly. (Terry Dykstra, from Steve Kurtz' AD&D Ravenloft adventure "The Price of Revenge," Dungeon magazine 42, July/August 1993)

[intermundia]

anakin's unparalleled ability to become his vehicle, to extend his awareness beyond himself and mesh into the machinery, disappearing into the environment of the race, the battle, and reacting with superhuman unconscious skill and reflex—it's been with him since he was a small boy, and continued well into his adulthood. it's a fundamental part of who he is and how he interacts with the force, the context in which he excels beyond any other human. he doesn't have to reason, doesn't have space to even think, he's bigger than himself and transcends himself. qui-gon told him to feel, not to think, to trust his instincts, and this is the only time when that advice is completely valid. when anakin is a pilot, he can forget about all his pain and fear. he can be really free to lose himself, and become the best version of himself at the same time.

[wishesofeternity]

My problem with The Dragon Prince is that while it preaches about "breaking the cycle" and "choosing love", it repeatedly does so in a way that echoes the age-old idea of telling victims to passively accept their lot in life and the injustices inflicted upon them while their perpetrators never have to acknowledge their wrongs or face consequences for their actions. This is the kind of narrative they follow on both a personal and systematic axis, and it's exactly why the show will always frustrate me.

[ratislatis]

',:) Requests??? HEH. Well there's like ten million in my head but actually Rat since you've already blessed the world with yassified Sparrow, how about some yassified Lark? (I remember you mentioning that Lark is your jewelry model! I'm dying to see him!!!) 💜💜💜

I hope this is what you meant by yassified

pov you get dragged into playing mermaids with your best friend's 5 year old daughter who will not stop talking about fish

(requests are open <;3)

[terrence-silver]

Hey could i make a request please. Terry X fem reader, her former abuser comes back into her life to torment her all over again and Terry buts them in their place and destroys them physically, mentally, financially and when it's all over they'll thank him.

Jerry and Terry.

A story of disproportionate revenge; Terry Silver x Fem!Reader in the background (with an appearance from John Kreese).

---

Jerry is a man with a common office job and the accidental assonance of their names never fails to amuse Terry.

Infuriate him some.

Jerry and Terry.

Well, Jeremy, in actuality, just another information in the long mosaic line up covering everything he discovered about this schmuck, as much personally as through his sources, not that it was tremendously difficult seeing as how none of these common civilians were ever too much of a mystery anyway, granting him immense satisfaction in the hunt nonetheless — but the punk’s name might as well be worm or cockroach, because that’s in effect what he was, leaning over Colorado Street, in Pasadena, a two hour drive from LA, the July summer air after midnight still hot, the asphalt seeming to let off steams of a searing, stifling sensation, the cool breeze blown in from the Arroyo barely reaching the isolated steel ledge secluded from the buzz of the traffic; the city long since planned to put to preventive nets over the bridge — Terry should know because he personally funded the project with a generous donation and it was hilarious how life had a weird way of falling into place and connecting in the most bizarre ways on a bridge of occasional suicides where your ex was standing, hands in pockets, staring down into the dark depths of the river below, no such net in sight just yet except for a couple of signs issuing a warming that it was dangerous to lean over the railings, nothing separating him from the flowing abyss below. Him and the Mayor shook hands on the business venture two years ago. The news even reported on it with all the adulation in the world. Terry’s picture was in the paper. He was all over the news — long enough to distract from all his other ventures. But, it was one of those urban landscaping deals that would dawn on the news and then take years, perhaps decades, to be actually realized. Meant that Jerry could jump — and there would be nothing to save him from doing so. No cameras installed for security measures just yet either. Maintenance. Terry knew, because this was Terry’s city.

Terry’s country and State.

Nobody in sight right at this moment.

Merely a narrow concrete path along the bridge for pedestrians.

Terry, the stranger, snug in his leather jacket, not minding the heat, pretending to be an innocent bypasser.

Truth of the matter was, he ruined this man’s life and he developed the progression of the slow decay all along the way with great interest and like a cat eagerly eying a moving red string, Terry’s effortlessly led him here, deliberately, right to this very place, this very spot, on this very night, on this very bridge and the guy never even realized he had no say in any of it or that none of it was an accident. Jeremy got let off of work. Accused of embezzlement. Embroidered in schemes. In debt. Reputation ruined. Social circle gone. All that jazz. All the classics. And Terry did it all. Weaved it all. And it culminated in this. Do a flip, he thought to himself, approaching the man under the headlights, leisurely, acting like someone who accidentally stumbled upon a scene he wasn’t supposed to stumble upon, en route to somewhere else, haunting the city, stopping in his tracks, behind a steel pillar, watching Jerry climb over the ledge; He could say something now. It would've been expected. A hastily thrown in 'Hey, you there! Stop!' or 'Hey, you! Don't do it! Lets talk, man! Life can be good, actually. It can be good when you're not crossing Terry Silver, that is.' Something faux-poignant. Something mean. Something mocking. Something distracting or even infuriating to bait the man into arguing rather than hurting himself. Anything, so long as it distracts and causes the man to hesitate and think twice, but it’s only once Jerry’s heel is slipping over the edge of the pipe he was perched up on does Terry act, allowing himself to smile from where he's standing, seamlessly, feeling his mouth twitch upward, watching the shadow disappear over the railing into the darkness of the night. The next day, there's a suicide report briefly on the news and you never even catch it in the whirlwind of all the other crime circulating in the media. Your asshole ex, identified by his wallet and the documentation found in his soaked interior pocket, fished out by the loading docks. Just another statistic.

-"So, what he’d do?"-

John asked him on one occasion when Terry told him of his plans.

-"Nothing much."- Terry slings his arm over his driver seat leisurely, chuckling. He didn't treat you as well as you deserved? Tried to occasional get in contact with you again and stay on, quote-unquote 'good terms'. What did that even mean? Good terms? Wasn't that enough to warrant execution? Terry thought it was. It was a crappy, mediocre relationship and nobody had to put their hands on you for Terry to be convinced that deserved payback. Not to mention --- the said entanglement wasted your time. Time that would've been better spent with him if you weren't busy wasting it with some Jerry. Revenge. Reason for revenge, right there. They were parked near Griffith Observatory, in the embrace of a forested path, all zig-zags and steep rocks, the skyline of the city visible from a nearby slope, offering them both a view and sufficient privacy to talk. -"I just want him to die."- Terry confess bluntly, nearly cackling as the words rolled off of his tongue, sensing something exciting coil around in his gut like so many butterflies, seeing no reason to hide these things from his Captain after everything they've been through together and John gives him a lopsided, paternal smile, halfway critical, halfway entertained, like he was about to throw in the talk.

-"Terry…"-

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and Terry instantly protests.

Show mercy!? Why!? Since when were they the mercy-showing types!?

-"What? What!?"-

He finds himself whining slamming the palm of his hand against the backrest of the leather seats, feeling his own face furrow up. -"C’mon, Johnny!"- He sighs profoundly, rolling his eyes, annoyed and exasperated. This was some prime-time bullshit. -"Don’t you dare tell me that you never wanted anyone someone you loved loved before you to just, you know…"- He starts, trailing off, digging his teeth into his lower lip. Savoring the moment. -"Drop dead?"- He says it then, and it tastes so sweet, like caramel coated candy dipped in white powder. Terry knew all about Johnny nearly beating his beloveds Betsy's then-beau halfway to death on the parking lot of the Deli he worked in before the army. They were exactly the same, him and John Kreese. A Cobra doesn't tolerate competition. It's not in it's nature to. John says nothing. Almost as if contemplating that memory himself, looking off into the distance, pulling up the collar of his brown vest jacket on the passenger seat beside him, his face crinkling into a grim smile, not saying yes but not saying no either. Terry has the odd impulse to kick his feet up in the air in a flash of euphoria. -"We could always rough him up. Scare him. Hurt him, make him piss his pants and call it a day. I'm available for that."- John murmurs, the deep rumbling sound emanating from his throat recognized only as a suppressed chuckle. Terry grabs John by the shoulder and shakes him in excitement, halfway hugging him in joy. While kicking that Creature to a pulp did sound exciting it wasn't part of the plan. -"My man! Now we're talking! But, that would only martyr him!"- Terry lifts up his hands, engrossed in his own imagination. He felt more comfortable and content if this guy was just wiped out of existence altogether. Like, hit by a moving bus, perhaps. A guy that put his dick inside of you before being alive and well out there? Yeah. Unacceptable. -"No."- Terry says with a sense of looming doom. -"This is so final. There’s no coming back from it. And what’s best?"- He pauses slightly for dramatic timing, presenting the whole picture to John the way a storyteller would describe the synopsis of his newest magnum opus.

-"I’ll ensure he’ll do to himself."-

Six months into this special project and Terry never once put his hands on Jeremy. Could've. Itched to. But, he didn't. If Jerry deteriorated, it's because he ruined himself. With every drink, every cigarette and every sleepless, stressful night in tow. All Terry did was set events in motion and brought about the right environments for someone to start feeling profoundly unhappy.

-"I've put him through enough pain and now it's time to go to sleep."-

There can be only one, he almost halfway desires to add but he withholds at the last moment once he spots a shift on John's face --- that he didn't need any more convincing. Maybe it was an old habit --- an army habit --- but whenever Terry seriously wanted to end someone, he always came to Johnny first. To discuss the matter. Strategize. Get his greenlight from his Captain to go out into the field and terminate with extreme prejudice. That's how the hierarchy worked. Terry would do whatever he wanted anyway irregardless of John but he supposed he wanted to let him know. For old times sake. Reason why he invited him to meet here today. That and to gloat. -"Alright, Terry. If you say so."- John smiles that gruff smile of his, finally capitulating and Terry finally allows himself to breathe again after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation, letting himself be as jubilant as he wanted, turning the key in the ignition along with the steering wheel almost immediately, ready to get a move on, wasting not a second longer. There was a five star restaurant just down the road with their name on it. -"Of course I say so, Johnny! What I say is best!"- He exclaims, one hand on the wheel and another on the back of his John's neck, patting him triumphantly. Enough talk. Time to crack open the bottles before the big bang. You knew he was out with his oldest friend. You merely didn't know the context, is all. -"Reservations at five. Lets go grab that chow and celebrate!"- Terry practically shouts in euphoria, throwing a joyous glance at John, making a sharp U-turn. -"Ever ate a turkey stuffed with a chicken that's stuffed with a quail!?"- He snickers, knowing for a fact that Johnny would probably need everything in him not to roll his eyes at the option of orders, but regardless, he lived for treating his Captain to the finer things, just like he lived for removing each and every person from your past until nobody but him remains. Him, representing the future. -"I'd prefer plain good old bacon and some beer."- John mutters with a small, fox-like grin just like Terry knew he would, taking a relish in poking and prodding at him anyway. His Captain's wish is his command. They'd have so much to toast for today.

-"Done, baby!"-

Is all Terry says, laughing as he speeds away, down the woodland highway.

---

When you discover the news because he effectively tells you, deciding to control when and how the information reaches and that it might as well reach you from his own mouth, naturally, as expected, your mood turns gloomy. For days. Weeks. More time wasted and he despised it, deciding to immediately take you on a cruise of the Bahamas to distract you from it, but deciding tactically that you just had to ride it out. And you did. Week two on the deck of his yacht, eventually, slumped, looking out to the ocean, knees against your chest sitting on deck, you decide to speak. -"Terry, this will be such a weird thing to say."- You stutter, unsure of yourself and yet he's there, tracking your every movement and expression like a sonar radar. -"Maybe even meanspirited."- Will it now? Good. You were about to get whatever useless thing was still lodged in your system out of yourself. He's by your side, sitting beside you, looking at you intently, not wanting to miss a thing. -"But, I'm oddly glad I got out on time. That I met you."- You confess, holding back tears. Wasn't easy discovering that your ex was practically six figures in debt and wanted on several charges and that if you stayed with him, it would've reflected on you as well. Dragged you down with him. To the bottom of river Arroyo. That's what your pretty little head thought and Terry coos, massaging the edge of your scalp in gentle motions with his fingers, letting that beautiful brain below think whatever he wanted it to think. Oh, he loved you so. You were made for the greenest of pastures. For him. -"He would've destroyed his life as well as my own and I'm relieved the universe moved me out of the way when it did. That it brought me you. Thank you."- Ah. There it was. There were tears in your eyes flowing freely and you were thanking him, never even realizing you were unknowingly expressing gratitude that he effectively crapped all over your ex's life and led him to suicide. Stood by and watched while he did a triple Salto off of a bridge. The blood and the heat shoots down into his cock. How could it not? In any other situation he would've dragged Jerry's waterlogged swollen carcass fished out of the river at your feet and present it to you like a cat presents its owner a dead mouse. -"He was never bad towards me, exactly. But, he was never fully good either, you know? But, definitely not bad enough to deserve this."- Oh, Terry knew alright. It is just that he considered that your ex not being fully good towards you was a capital offense that found it's equivalent payback only in death. So, yeah. Punk deserved it.

Had it long time coming.

-"Is that fucked up and evil of me? To feel relieved I left on time? I feel so awful it's crazy! A man died!"-

A weak, nuisance man died, Terry wants to correct, but instead he settles into the act of collecting your tears with the tip of his fingers, letting none of them escape, feigning outrage, yet partially feeling said emotion in it's most genuine capacity; Jeremy died! Fuck sake, who cares! This guilt would evaporate and you'd find it fading overtime, because he'd be here to ensure it fades; there was almost nothing meaningfully positive for you to vindicate or romanticize and far too much crappy and mediocre to actually mourn or remember fondly. That was the good thing about measly, middle-of-the-road, middling, lukewarm individuals; too grey to be turned into saints and too grey to be turned into devils. The only thing one could do with them, whether one wanted to or not is to forget them. Where he could easily replace them and everyone else you ever trifled with, usurping their very vacancy and every emotion sent their way, be it good or bad. All of it. Only his. -"Fucked up!? Huh!? No way! It's not! Are you even listening to yourself!?"- He shakes his head vigorously, letting his disapproval grow visible, pulling you close, until the side of your body melts with his and you're effectively there, drying up your tears in his embrace, the open sea breeze against you. Terry grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him. -"You wanted a normal, stable life! Of course you did! Who wouldn't!?"- Terry explains, separating his gaze from you for but a second to point the tip of his nose out towards the blue expanse of the sunlit Atlantic.

[dimity-lawn]

"Never trust any ruler who puts his faith in tunnels and bunkers and escape routes. The chances are that his heart isn't in the job." - Lord Vetinari, Guards!Guards!

Okay, but what about just for fun? Where's your sense of whimsy? Your fun way to get to your secret auxiliary wardrobe with winter jackets, autumn vibes, summer linens, and the breeches you've been looking for?

[roninkairi]

New York Comic Con Part 8 (Almost Done...)

And now, games and swag!!!

In the game room, there was a open challenge for gamers to take on pro gamers in certain fighters. The pro (as MOTW Terry) took on a Terry Bogard cosplayer (playing as Classic Terry) in SF6.

Terry won by the way.

An N64 here was set up with a cartridge that had various games loaded onto it. One of the games on display was Wrestlemania 2000.

And yes, Cactus Jack is beating the hell out of You Know Who.

OLD SCHOOL!!!

My money is on Godzilla!!

I was playing the game as Al Snow. I kicked the ass of The Man Formerly Known As Val Venis so badly, the second I hit the Snowplow, the damn game froze. So I had to reset it...and I reset it to...

Damn skippy I played it!

Seriously, Van Hammer? Pretty sure the boys at Wrestlecrap were shocked at his inclusion to the roster of the game.

When You See It...

Jubilee: ...

Deadpool: ...

Gabby: ...

Me: ...I'm not apologizing.

Jubilee: NEVER APOLOGIZE.

Deadpool: You're doing God's work.

Gabby: I respect you more for doing it twice!

And now for some swag.

One of these stickers was drawn by Ryan Jampole. (Cheelai to be precise)

There are two other pictures to share...but I saved them for last...

[nightsi]

ArtFight revenge for @catscribblez

meet-cute between Ross & Terri (Ross walked into a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in the middle of nowhere after a late night run & it's just him and one other guy)

close-up:

[krytus]

the minute the kids hear the title "karates bad boy" it is Over for mike

[flamingredanon]

Random Henry thoughts from my tired butt.

What if Reginald started hiding a spare gun in his hat after ItA, so that he could never be caught unprepared again (to be fair it's hard to be prepared for a human crow in a giant hamster ball chasing you down)

I saw a post referencing the golden safe that has the teddy bear and what if that bear belonged to Terrence? He does have the fancy picture frame and his portrait is holding that golden gun, so what if the safe was also Terrence's?

And if it is Terry's safe and teddy, why hasn't Reginald or other Toppats gotten rid of it, with what Terry did as leader and all.

Does maybe someone miss a friendship/brothership or more with Terrence and kept the safe or even keeping the teddy bear safe and using the safe as an excuse?

And what if the reason Charles was sorta close to the Wall was because he was looking for Ellie on Galeforce's orders (since he was keeping tabs on her from PP) but the Wall got to her first.

[liminal-zone]

Raises a glass to those of us out here googling “how does Egwene escape the Seanchan” and also my god stop men from writing fantasy books in the 90s

[diningwiththeasquiths]

Students warn Daniel there is a deepfake circulating of a younger version of him doing all these obscene things. Turns out it's actual footage Silver took of the two of them, back in the day. He leaked it online as payback for Daniel beating him and getting him arrested.

[mrgriffiths]

Mastermind revealing devious plans in the sauna..

Thomas Ian Griffith as Terry Silver in The Karate Kid part 3~89'

☆sauna scene aesthetic☆

Check out my Twitter & Instagram!

[shadowland]

The Hollies - Hey Willy (1971)

[terrence-silver]

How would Terry react if his beloved said they feel like a prostitute bc he's spoiling them all the time ( with presents, vacations and whatever) and refuses his presents or give them back to him?

---

We've seen Terry Silver preform almost every sort of foul act under the sun but slutshasming.

So, the fact beloved does it to themselves? Inconceivable!

Like, he'd legitimately be infuriated and demand to know who was it that filled their head with something so dumb because he's convinced they couldn't have come up with it all on their own and the moral guilt stems from somewhere outside of themselves, or rather, from someone outside of themselves. It's usually the case. Nobody's feeling tremendously bad about flying a gas guzzling, air-polluting private jet until Greenpeace comes along to remind them they should feel bad. That's just the truth. He knows. Actually, he tends to feel better about flying a gas guzzling, air-polluting private jet precisely because Greenpeace criticized and protested him that week on the streets of LA, but that's neither here nor there. As such, Terry's convinced it was someone being jealous. Envious of everything he's giving and affording beloved. Someone looking to piss on beloved's sunshine. Someone looking to piss on him! Was it the way beloved was raised? Was it some green eyed punk somewhere convincing them of this bullshit behind his back? He genuinely wants to know who or what it was! He genuinely wants revenge on them, be they a person or a concept! He's outright angry, probably telling beloved they should snap out of this crap and start enjoying life immediately, or more precisely, the life they have by his side because he's smart enough to know who deserves what out of him, why and when. For how long. He's smart enough to differentiate who's a whore and who isn't (and he's undoubtedly been with enough of them to know) and in any regard, even if beloved was a whore, they're his and he decides what label he's going to ascribe them, not someone else, not even beloved themself, in fact.

That privilege is his alone.

If he tells you you're a robot, you're a robot.

And if he tells you you're the apple of his eye, you're the apple of his eye.

If he tells you to take pleasure in soaking in a jacuzzi, eating strawberries dipped in chocolate washed down with some expensive champagne, guess what --- you'll take pleasure in it. He can suggest nicely or he can just give you a wordless look and you'll know he expects you to do as you're told.

Returning his gifts and rebuking his generosity on this principle of shame only results in even more anger out of him.

If beloved doesn't want the presents he gave them then those presents might as well not exist because you see, their purpose is now obsolete from his point of view, which means, he's very likely to just destroy whatever it was beloved gave back in front of beloved's own eyes as a way to teach a rather sadistic lesson in gratitude and he'll do so with the utmost relish and glee. Terry undoubtedly smiles ramming his fist into the protective glass of a Rolex watch because that Rolex is pointless and worthless unless beloved likes it and wears it. Didn't want it? Thought it's making you into a hooker? So be it. Now you're something worse than a hooker and you're being gaslit into feeling actual shame because you're needlessly wasteful and costing him millions of dollars in mangled gifts. Not that he cares. But you do. And that's what matters here. For all intents and purposes, he's having a sick amount of fun. You're to blame. The consequences are on you. Wanna be difficult? Okay, so be difficult then. Be it an expensive car, revenue, jewelry, clothing, man will find ways to just ruin whatever it was that was shoved back into his keeping to provide the understanding that there's extreme consequences, to, as he sees it, rejecting his generosity --- said consequences stemming anywhere from demolished cars, smashed jewelry, furniture used instead of punching dummies, torn designer clothes, flats (mysteriously) burning down in the night and my god, if this man ever gave beloved a private island, that private island might just end up as a garbage quarry for his next toxic waste dumping ground. Who's to tell? None of this would've happened if beloved simply, oh, I don't know, loved his presents. Suffice to say Terry Silver doesn't have the moral quandaries most people have. To him money functions under the simple equation of 'I have it = I splash it because I can.' When someone starts acting stupid around his lavishness and open handedness, it tends to push his buttons and when he feels his buttons pushed, he tends to retaliate in the most juvenile, almost childlike way imaginable, control being threatened and things escalating to some unhinged levels.

He won't even flinch when he's accused of it. He's self-aware. He knows what he's doing because he's doing it on purpose and what's worse, he likes it. He likes the chaos and he likes the destruction. He'll grin through his teeth even as he does it and confesses to doing it. Even as he makes beloved watch what they brought about through their actions. But, it's not all giggles and cackling even as Terry kicks, punches. elbows and practices his Tang Soo Do on the windows, the hood and the shiny, color coated plating of the newest sport's car beloved felt uncomfortable about. Thing is, this all stems from a place of hurt and offense too.

He wanted to do so many lovely things for beloved.

And now that they don't want him to, he'll do bad things instead until they beg him to stop.