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atmostories · 3 years

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Terry Silver x Female!Reader

Some poorsona!Terry giving you snake facts. For lovely @villains-are-sexy Tags: NSFW, snake facts, snake not-so-facts 🐍 ░F░a░s░c░i░n░a░t░i░n░g░ 🐍 "You're not afraid of snakes, are you." He said out of the blue while you were on the sofa watching some nature documentary on TV with him. It was more a statement than it was a question. You glanced over at him and he was staring at you intently, his mouth parted open slightly.

"Um, not really," you replied, curious why he had brought it up as the documentary wasn't about snakes at all. "But I don't exactly interact with them much so." He let out a chuckle at your response and shifted closer to you on the sofa until his leg brushed against yours. "Did you know," he murmured softly, intimately, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. "That the hiss of a king cobra is a much lower pitch than most snakes." He began to slowly lean towards you inch by inch, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. Your breath caught in your throat from his proximity. You couldn't look away from him, blood rushed to your ears, your heart sped up, you could feel his breath on your face. "It's akin to the growl of a human voice." He informed you, moving closer until his mouth was right by your ear. "Like this." He let out a low growl, the sound of it making your inner thighs ache. You somehow managed to stop your whole body from shuddering in response. He pulled back, his gaze flicking down to your mouth before focusing back on your eyes. "If you get bitten," he half whispered, his grip on your inner thigh suddenly tightening. "The neurotoxic venom is so potent that it can kill you in thirty minutes. At first you won't be able to see, then you won't be able to move, and finally you'll be in agony." You stared at him mindlessly as he described a horrific death, but by the way he was talking, he made it sound appealing. "There are some species of cobra whose venom has a different effect on the human body. Rather than pain, it's the complete opposite. You'll be rendered in a state of total euphoria and ecstasy. There have even been reports of victims being in a state of perpetual orgasm before they slip away." You let out an unsteady breath, your clit was aching profusely, your cheeks were burning from how aroused you were. All he had to do was shift his hand a little bit higher and then he'd be right where you needed him to- His hand suddenly left your thigh and he shifted back to where he was before on the sofa. "I find it fascinating, don't you?" He asked, with a sense of wonder in his tone. You stared at him for a few moments, before finally managing to look away and you nodded silently, unable to spit out a single word. He went back to watching the TV, like the entire conversation didn't happen at all. A few minutes later you managed to mumble something about needing the bathroom. Getting up off the sofa, your eyes widened as you realised how wet you were. After hurrying to the bathroom and closing the door, you pulled down your underwear, letting out a gasp when you saw how ruined they were. All from a couple of facts about snakes. . .

#terry silver #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #thomas ian griffith #poorsona terry having the time of his life as always #atmo

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terrence-silver · 7 months

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could you write something about poorsona!terry meeting hippie beloved at a bar while shes singing a stevie nicks cover? ive been obssesed with stevie lately

---

There's a guy who visits every night.

And of course, there's re-occurring patrons. Re-occurring guests. Regulars, as it were. But this one --- he lingers in the corners of the venue, in the crowd, around the backseats, by the exit of the corridor that led to the men's room, all by himself, blended into the shadows of the louder, more rambunctious visitors to your small slice of the stage. You sang as a hobby, really. Not exactly something you were being paid for. A jar for tips was just about the one thing there was available in terms of compensation and everyone was free to leave whatever they felt like leaving, which on good days was enough to pay for transport back home and some groceries. Every little bit helped. Fridays were open-mic night and the occasional brave soul could get up there, try their luck and do anything from a stand-up comedy routine, strumming the guitar or sure --- singing. That's why you noticed this man. Because you noticed every face, every individual that would pay attention, clap, cheer, even occasionally whistle, or perhaps, carelessly talk over your performance. You figured that it was something that simply went hand in hand with being an amateur. Every bit of feedback was blaringly obvious. Every person that cared was impossible to ignore. Every person who didn't, doubly so.

And sure, there were people who tended to be disrespectful.

Chat amongst themselves, engrossed in their conversations, ignoring you completely, laughing and clinking glasses, even going as far as shouting. You'd lie if you said that you weren't met with the occasional 'boo!' but your disappointment overtime turned into numbness and numbness turned into the decision that as much as it hurt, you wouldn't let a couple of knuckleheads ruin your passion for something and mess up a pleasant night out for those who really cared. Except, that one weekend --- when the venue was nearly empty, outside for a couple of people. You sit down at the bar before closing hours, sighing. You were allowed to be disappointed every now and then. Your jar of tips was empty and the month has only just started. You had bills due. -"Not as much of a crowd tonight."- You remark matter-of-factly, certainly a bit sad about it, yes, dragging an exasperated hand through your hair. The bartender sets a cool glass in front of you and pours. Sparkling water, on the house. Just what you needed to wash down your sore vocal cords before you headed out home. -"It's that guy."- The barman leans over and whispers discreetly. -"What guy?"- You take a sip of the refreshing beverage right before setting your glass down on the counter, confused. -"Tall ponytail guy. The one engrossed in your flower child routine."- He explains, looking up and down and pointing at your attire with the tip of nose, being good enough of a friend to where you took no offense to his harmless jab. -"He's been leading them outside."- He adds and you shake your head, momentarily even more confused.

-"What do you mean 'leading them outside'?"-

Before you even manage to get say those words outloud, their meaning hits you.

-"Like beating them up!?"-

You cover your mouth, slightly shocked. What? All of them? There were several patrons here that were a bit rowdy on occasion. Several you could single out. But, that one man couldn't have taken all of them. Could he? And how did you not notice that when you usually noticed so much? Did he just sling his arm around them and calmly suggest they should have a stroll outside of the venue so they don't make a mess inside or what? -"Kid, it's LA and we're in the year 1985 of our Lord. Don't know what grown men get up to outside when it's dark, and quite frankly, it's none of my business, but he sure didn't look like he was taking them out for a smoke and a friendly chat."- Your friend explains and you gulp, feeling partially intimidated, partially curious, partially extremely relieved over the simple fact that...maybe...just maybe...next time you preform up there, you'll actually preform in a peaceful, less nerve-wracking atmosphere. You didn't remember when was the last time that happened. You almost manage a tiny smile. The middle aged, portly bartender chuckled to himself as he returned to tinkering around the sink, rolling up his sleeves, joking to himself.

-"Should have the owner hire him as a bouncer. Definitely fits the bill. Lot quieter around here too."-

---

The would-be ponytailed bouncer is indeed present the next day, before everyone, as a daytime guest at the bar, when customers were scarce and the venue as vastly empty. You make a decision that morning, after dwelling on it for days and after counting the money in your jar of tips, finding you had enough to comfortably survive the month.; you'd approach him. Say hello. Perhaps, thank him for his effort with the rowdiness around here. You found that guests and the would-be fan, not that you deemed yourself someone who had fans, tended to become oddly pacified and mellow once you'd acknowledge them. Let them know their efforts were welcome. Their donations. Tips. And your jar? It was strangely full as of late. You wondered if you could attribute it to ponytail guy, even though, quite honestly, he seemed like he struggled just as much as you did out here. You cut right to the chase once you find yourself muttering a shy hello, alerting him to your presence after mustering the courage to take the necessary steps and make a move, having him turn his back towards you to look at you. Up close, it felt like he was so big that he needed to move his whole body just to meet your gaze. -"I take it you're a huge fan of Stevie Nicks covers?"- You ask carefully, hoping you being so forward wouldn't bother him. He shoots you a smile, putting down his half finished Sabeco beer bottle. Interesting choice.

-"Nah. Just the past."-

He shakes his hand and his head in equal measure, looking down, appearing momentarily bashful. Such a big guy, taking out loud patrons out back, yet he was bashful. You can't help but feel your cheeks match his disposition with what you figured was the redness of blood rushing into your face, even more so when he chooses to complement you. -"Don't get me wrong, your singing's, well, it's fantastic."- Your breath gets hitched in your throat when he says those words and you instantly want to dissuade him of his opinion, feeling a wave of humbleness wash over you, only to realize you couldn't because he immediately continues talking. -"It's the nostalgia of it."- He explains. -"That and how you're dressed."- He gestures up and down with the tip of his nose. You look down at your floral patterns and the wide, loose fabrics you had on, matching color with color, finding yourself unable not to smile at the guy. First impressions first, was kind of sweet, actually. -"Oh, why thank you! Glad you like it. Very kind. It's part of my gimmick, if you will, but I do enjoy the style on a personal level too. If you play last decade's music, everyone expect you to look the part, a bit."- You do some explaining of your own, getting chatty, finding tips tended to get nicer when you put in the extra effort with an aesthetic fashion front however thrifted, discounted and second-hand it might've been. You found it actually tended to seem even more authentic like that.

-"It's how people dressed when I returned from the war. Brings me back."-

He gives you a tender smile and it catches you off guard --- that, along with his statement. From the war? Oh? A veteran? That added some new context as to why he felt so nostalgic about your performances, not that you were offended or thought any less of his kind words imparted your way. That also explained how he could supposedly subdue several people all by himself out back too. He extends a hand. You stare at it, remarking its size before taking it to shake it and return the gesture of introductions. Well, how tall and large he was certainly helped him in giving a good talking to those guys. -"I'm Terry. Terry Silver, by the way. I live just down the street, at Lankershim and Magnolia. I took up an old friend's dojo there as a teacher."- His expression turns boyish with a certain enthusiasm and it seemed like he was young --- very young. Almost too much so to have been in the military, but what the heck did you know --- maybe it was simply this feeling of lightness he emanated that made him seem like he was really no older than a twenty something, even though he had a name of an older man. Peculiar. -"So, Terry, pleased to meet you."- You say, returning a smile as he lets go of your hand and you swear you feel a static of electricity once your fingers part. Somehow, inexplicably, you get bolder, finding the ability to tease a little. Harmlessly. -"I assume all those anonymous tips in cash ---they're from you, if you don't mind me being forward, neighbor."-

You chuckle at Terry.

He was the only person here, early morning and he was back in the evening, listening to you sing more ardently than anyone else, never separating his eyes from the stage, to the point even the barman noticed. You had a radar for these sort of things by now; if someone gave you all those jar tips, it was definitely him. Artists' intuition and all. And he seemed kind. Not what you expected at all from someone taking out people to throw hands with them outside during working hours. He seemed like he'd place his last dollar down for someone else. He bears his teeth, laughing, his face wrinkling up around his mouth with a sudden bolt of joyfulness. It was weirdly infectious. You laugh with him. -"Oh, yeah! Guilty as charged!"-

-"Wanted to thank you for it. That's very sweet of you. You've no idea how much it means to me."-

You remark, sincerely, truly and genuinely meaning it. You could spot the single vehicle in the parking lot through the window of the venue you figured could belong to nobody else but Terry; the front of it apparently busted and damaged. This guy, he could use the money too, but he choose to give it to you. He deserved you letting him know that the gesture didn't go unnoticed. It did mean a lot to you, yeah. But you figured, that money could've meant just as much to him. Living in LA wasn't cheap. Far from. -"Don't thank me. I'm not a multi-millionaire, but I can appreciate a hard worker and a talent when I see one."- His eyes beam and his words hit you. Then and only then do you notice how blue his eyes were and that they radiated a certain conviction. Like he absolutely meant what he said, uttering the word 'talent' with such distinction, you have to look away, towards the bar's tiles under your feet, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Seen and heard. He...thought you were talented? Well, you wouldn't call yourself anti-talented or anything special or beyond the stage open-mic act at a casual bar, but, the way his voice vibrated the word was.... -"Have you...been getting into confrontations with some of the guests?"- You feel emboldened then, perhaps wanting to quickly change the topic, blurting out the first thing that came to mind as bluntly as you could, having him immediately respond just as bluntly, not hiding a thing. You expected excuses. You get none.

-"Yeah. They were talking over your singing. I didn't appreciate that."-

Terry states, matter-of-factly, standing straight in his grey zipper jacket and blue jeans and you're rendered speechless. You imagined he'd give you a laundry list of reasons why he did it, how he wasn't to blame, start lying, fidget around, get nervous, try every tactic in the book every man at every bar always tries, but no, he was confessing to it. Staring you right in the eyes. Telling you he didn't like them not appreciating your performance. You feel your heart rate accelerate, thumping away in your chest. You manage a tiny chuckle, looking away once again, simply to conceal the fact you were stunned for words, barely even noticing other guests waddle through the front door and take their seat at a table in the corner, approached by a waitress jotting down their respective orders. -"You know, I do Karate."- Terry clarifies, finding your eyes. You felt alone with him, inexplicably. Like there was still nobody here and the bar only just opened. Your newfound friend elaborates, continuing; -"And Karate, it's all about peace and self-defense. There's rules and a code of honor. You don't attack someone unless they attack you first. That sort of thing. But, I think being a jackass like that warrants someone teaching some manners around here."- He gives you a fond look and you nod wordlessly, suddenly shy again, wondering how you mustered up the courage to get to this point in the first place and in equal measure questioning ---- was it possible to fall in love with a stranger after one conversation?

In the wise words of Stevie Nicks, you don't know what it was --- but, whatever it was, it was very powerful.

#terry silver #hippie!reader #hippie!beloved #kk3 #cobra kai #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #stevie nicks #performer!beloved #80's terry silver #poorsona!terry silver #fluff

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terrence-silver · 10 months

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fingers crossed.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #poorsona!terrysilver #terry silver fanart #mine #sketch

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terrence-silver · 1 year

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What are some scenarios that could lead old man Terry to meeting his future beloved? Like where would that era of Terry most likely meet his beloved?

---

The most obvious answers could be something like; at the Country Club! Some exclusive Gala! A high-end garden party! A Synagogue! An art exhibition! An elite charity event! A corporate meeting! An auction! A Yacht! An invite-only gentleman's joint! An Opera, for all we know. Anywhere from Korea, Tahiti, Japan and back again! Anywhere in the world, globetrotter that he is. Wherever the rich and the famous might mingle --- a crowd where Terry very much belongs and finds himself at home with. But, I think that answer only covers a small percentage of the actual truth.

Why?

Because I think Terry Silver, unbeknownst to most anyone, mingles everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. Yes, often times dressed as a common, unassuming bypasser just minding his own business; now you see him and now you don't. Sometimes, he's driving a run-down blue Ford truck posing himself as a hard-done-by Dojo owner downtown and other times, decades later, clearly not having changed all that much from his old ways, he might just be some smartly dressed, not at all shabby looking old man at the local Mini-Mart, intimidating Daniel Larusso between the produce aisles and leaving without buying a single thing. That's just a casual Wednesday for him. Nobody suspecting this is one of the wealthiest men on the West Coast, if not much, much further.

I think Terry Silver likes to scope out ordinary people, just for the sake of it.

He likes to scope out ordinary places too.

I think he enjoys the sport of getting down there with your commonplace Joe-Schmoe, and just observe, like one observes a Safari of animals. He likes to feel the pulse of everyone around him. Seek out opportunity, even if that opportunity rears its head in the form of some kid he bribes at a random club in 1985 to tactically hit on some girl so he can agitate Daniel into violence, right before making his quick escape into a back-alley in the dead of night, having caused a ruckus on the dance-floor. Yes, why not. It is fun, and Terry Silver seeks fun. It is also an investment and he seeks that doubly so. He seeks chance. Out on the street, in unexpected nooks and crannies or at a parking lot at midnight, while the very next day, he might be on the cover of Forbes as the most, ehm, Charitable Man of the Decade, and an incidental pedestrian would be none the wiser. Or they might just see his face on front page and think that that looks awfully familiar to that one guy, borderline thinking they've gone mad and are imagining things. That can't be same person, right? That might amuse Terry, in the most perverse and chaotic sense. Give him a sort of power --- over his environment and everyone around him, even mere strangers he has no intention of seeing ever again, except for what research and amusement they provided in the moment. The gleeful satisfaction that he's so big and so important and yet nobody knows. Not unless he wants them to, being entirely in control of the narrative and his identity --- and how it is perceived. That his ability to camouflage, disguise and hide himself with just a few cleverly chosen fashion choices and a difference in bearing is that great that it can trick people. The world is a sort of playground for him, and day-to-day people tend to be hilariously prone to being bribed, threatened, influenced, swayed, talked into things and used. Their lives are raw and interesting in ways that are hard to describe and it is a special type of voyeurism Terry Silver has undoubtedly indulged in in one form or another all his life.

Didn't Roman Emperors occasionally disguise themselves to mingle with the plebian rabble too? Terry fancies himself similar. In fact, he knows he is.

He also might be something of an adrenaline junkie; where just minding his own business stripped down from the strappings of his wealth might be genuinely engaging and good sport for him because he gets to know exactly how he will be viewed when nobody knows he's a Billionaire. His fascination almost experimental in nature, bearing a mischievous, childlike curiosity, if not an off-shoot of his tendency to pathologically lie and fabricate whole entire personalities, changing himself and his colors like a chameleon. Almost like he's goading people to show him exactly who they are. What they're like. What they're true nature is when faced with just some guy they've nothing to gain from out there.

So, beloved? Beloved might meet their King Cobra anywhere.

Anywhere at all.

A prospect both exciting and in equal measure daunting.

Because one never knows...

---

(I write more about this topic in my fanfic right here x)

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #80's terry silver #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #old man terry #character analysis #terry silver headcanons #terry silver headcanon #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #meeting place #location #locations #tw; pathological lying #tw; identity issues #poorsona!terry

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terrence-silver · 1 year

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How would Terry handle a beloved that didn't really care for fancy things. what would dates look like if they didn't want anything over the top? I feel like he wouldn't be used to people not wanting his money.

Somewhere along the way Terry's initial understanding of 'not fancy' might include him concluding that beloved could just want to be away from the buzz of city and that he has an appropriate (and fittingly isolated) colossal resort mansion he never uses and a privately owned mountain estate somewhere, just a quick drive or helicopter ride outside of LA, that costs more than can be calculated in money, fully equipped with a wine cellar, a pool, cars, twenty eight bedrooms, a hundred acres of prime land and five balconies just in case beloved wants to indulge in some getaway rustic ambience where they get to --- gasp --- optionally serve and tend to themselves. And fuck indefinitely for days sans interruptions, being as loud as they wished. Not that the locale ever mattered where volume is concerned for Terry.

Or maybe they could try with an island he owns.

How about cruising out on a Yacht for a week or two?

How about going to Tahiti --- to some hotel deliberately designed with a quaint, humble manner for wealthy patrons out to experience such a thing? Sure, eccentric, but Terry can arrange anything.

Money, acts of service and favours are his prime love language after all.

No?

Yes, you're right. I think Terry Silver would have a hard time immediately understanding what 'not fancy' even is for an ordinary person who doesn't come from exuberant wealth and what spending quality time without spending money necessarily looks like, even though he perfectly understands how to feign and put on working class airs when he needs to trick someone, the way he did with Daniel in the 80's --- but that was a deliberate ploy and this is, well ---- it is reality. That was a game, a trap, bait, intentional cruelty, gaining someone's trust, scoping out his target, appealing to him by presenting oneself as a kindred spirit from a similar background, and this? This is romance. It doesn't outright compute that the very thing he used as a manipulation tactic on someone is also something someone he loves might desire in the context of a date and bonding. Should he produce a busted up Ford truck again? Wear deliberately frumpy clothes for beloved's pleasure? Borderline feels like putting on a costume for Halloween for Terry. Have his stylists put together a line-up of attire he can wear for every date? Drive out to some...park, instead of renting out the Vip lounge of some Beverly Hills restaurant? Without some luxurious wine from some lavish catalogue? Without gifts? Without a million dollar view? Million dollar suits? Million dollar plans? Without any favours? Is this some kind of fetish? Some kind paraphilia beloved has? Just him?

Turns out, yes. That's exactly what beloved wants.

Initially, he almost wants to laugh at the notion. Cute.

King of confidence, secretly shaken.

Feeling a bit naked.

Not that it ever shows.

But, truly, Terry takes the task very seriously, perfectionist that he is. Far more seriously than he ever lets on. He's infinitely anal about it. Maybe with some theatrical airs, because he sees humbleness and simplicity as a sort of performance rather than something someone just does, spontaneously, every day, for free, alone or with others, with nothing to gain in mind, and so, a whole ritualized preparation covertly takes place just so Terry can have an ordinary time out, as an ordinary guy. He treats it like he's preparing to appear at some Gala function. He succeeds, of course, because while he gets what it entails, he's never been asked to be it because anyone liked that sort of thing before, and he's amused by the prospect. Oh, the things he does to please his beloved. Naturally, his amusement hides the fact that he's somewhat confused. And touched. And affected. And that he's on slightly foreign territory here. Feeling unusual. A bit out of control, which might have him acting agitated and fidgety. He might bring along a thirty year old bottle of Macallan to the date just in case. Some coveted piece of jewelry in a box. No? Just him? For a man convinced nothing's for free, this a hard lesson to muster and it will take a long time before he truly gets used to the fact, for all his arrogance, cockiness and bravado, that he's wanted as is, stripped of all the gloss. That some of the best things in life are indeed for free.

Any other time he'd say it is a bullshit rhetoric made up those who are broke.

Now?

He hates to admit that he feels strange and happy.

If not idle. He still finds ways to lavish beloved with something.

How about a smaller diamond, this time around, in keeping with the, erhm, theme?

No?

#HOW ABOUT A SMALLER DIAMOND #i make myself laugh #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #poorsona!terry #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #character analysis

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terrence-silver · 1 year

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So, you had me howling at the idea of PretendVirgin!Terry in his thrift store couture, making himself out to be the world's most sexually attractive monk. Here's what I want to know: how would he play it out in the end, when he inevitably 'loses it' to Beloved? Would he take the act all the way, playing the part of the nervous, blushing innocent, pretending to fumble around and have no idea what he was doing, even going so far as to have Beloved take the lead and show him what to do? Or, alternatively, would he drop the act at the last second and ravish Beloved, chalking it up to him some legitimate-sounding nonsense about flow state and him being just that in-tune with his body from living in such an abstinent way? Just wanted to hear your expanded thoughts. 🤣 Simply too amusing.

Ravish beloved? How would he justify it? It's the chakras getting unplugged!

Dirty jokes aside, I think Terry would play this out for as long as the situation allows him to because a) It is fun b) a great social experiment c) he gets to see exactly who beloved is when the power levels are artificially flipped d) it is hot.

It is hot to mess with people. It is hot to pretend. It is hot to get away with bloody murder. And yes, it is hot to act the innocent goodie-two-shoes and the role of the noble, abstinent warrior-monk in the making when that is pretty much the last thing Terry Silver is and he knows it --- maybe that's why it is so damn amusing to him too. Anything that is mischievous, nasty, lurid and schemey is right up his alley and I think he'd actually enjoy and get a major kick out of pretending he's fumbling around, ashamed of his partner's nudity, his own nudity (in spite of being with ease with bodies in the context of martial arts), intimacy in general, the function of human organs or even what to do with them. He's just a shy, humble, hard done by Sensei downtown who lives in a semi-renovated, neglected dojo that has seen better days and who has dedicated years of his life to training...and not much else. Might even act the absolute saint by saying he never wanted to tie anyone to himself in any sense because he hasn't had his ''life financially together enough'' to deserve that yet if this a Terry Silver pretending to be poor and you might be there wondering --- wow, what a self-sacrificial martyr this dude is? He wont even have casual, no strings attached sex because his business is still taking off and he doesn't want to impose on potential on conquests? It is just too unfair, Terry says. People deserve better. He can't offer anyone anything. He isn't putting himself down. He is just honest. So he claims. A man must know himself.

What the heck, you might think!?

Handsome, abnormally kind, ridiculously considerate, a talented fighter, a returning veteran and he's sexually obstinate by choice? If he didn't exist, one would have to quite literally invent him. And that's because he is absolutely invented and a figment of Terry's own imagination who utilizes every bit of willpower not to chortle out loud every time he makes himself deliberately blush because he spotted a patch of your skin. Maybe a bare shoulder. Does he want drop the act and go in for the plunge and actually take beloved prematurely? Oh, sure. His whole entirely being craves it and it takes a magnitude of control for him not to. But the endgame of every ploy is only as rewarding as the process that led up to it.

#terry silver #pretendvirgin!terrysilver #poorsona!terrysilver #cobra kai #kk3 #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; lies

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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poorsona 😭😭😭 Terry 😭😭😭

I don't exactly remember just who coined that term anymore in the infancy of the Terry Silver fandom on Tumblr becoming a thing, specifically in relation of Terry pretending to be broke, but I think it was me and that makes it even worse. 😬😂💀

#maybe?#maybe not?#i think i mentioned it before #anyway it is now once more unleashed #hshgshjskhsjk #terry silver #cobra kai #kk3 #poorsona!terrysilver #poorsona!terry

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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How do you think any era of Terry Silver would react to see his beloved working very hard as a waitress/busgirl in a restaurant?

Why do I imagine the 80's poorsona Terry showing up every day to eat at a diner?

Like, he has a (fake) image to uphold, especially while in the business of revenge and tricking Daniel, and it has to be fully immersive and believable. He views this a bit like theatre, where he’s playing all the roles and directing the script too. He needs to eat like the commonplace man does, in a venue where where the everyman goes to, consuming everyman meals. I imagine him being meticulous with when he visits, like, the time and the minute is always eerily the same, because this is a very controlled and non spontaneous thing that is only supposed to look spontaneous and natural without actually being so. The staff would definitely notice that this big, tall, long haired guy always shows up at exactly the same time and leaves exactly the same time --- down to the second. Maybe sometimes he deliberately orders small portions in between classes, with his dojo right across the street, which he takes back with him, so Daniel would see that Terry is indeed hard done by, and he eats very little (even though he never, ever, ever complains acts the ever-grateful, humble role), as to evoke sympathy. Instructs the servers to intentionally make the food appear unappealing and he pays extra for it too. Some of the oddest requests they had to date from one of the most weirdly out of place customers ever. But, enough about that --- he could very easily meet beloved here:

Of course, he gages her out too.

I think Terry gages everyone out, as per habit.

He wants to see how she'll treat him and view him with a busted up Ford in the parking lot and him deliberately fishing around in his jeans for a tip, as if though there's actually no change in them and he’s struggling to actually find some (which isn't the case --- it is all a front). He wants to test her patience and empathy, and see how far the limits of it go. Why her? Why not. She caught his attention and that is reason enough. Sufficient motivation for him. I think Terry does and has always done this for fun. Donned the airs of an ordinary man to feel out the pulse of the people, catch them slipping up and acting out because people tend to do so when you aren't exceedingly wealthy and they don't feel they have anything to gain from some punk. He plans to have a little bit of amusement with this waitress, as a social project, while on the business of playing Daniel like a fiddle. Except, turns out, she's nice to him regardless of how he presents himself. Peculiar. He's annoyed when this shit happens, because Terry's always on the task of digging up someone's darker, fouler instincts. It is no fun when there's just none to be found and people are naturally good for the sake of it. I think he hates that, because such individuals are...incorruptible, and as such, harder to control, and he wants to control them. So, he amps up the heat. He's still in the mindset that this is just a bit of mindfuckery for the busgirl and a lot of laughter for him. He starts leaving bigger and bigger tips --- contradictory for a man with a broken down car. He talks to her, prods her about herself, flirts with her. Asks her if this what she wants to do for the rest of her life. There's prosperity elsewhere --- he ominously adds, not clarifying much else, luring her in.

On the downlow, he multitasks and actually buys the diner.

No grand feat for someone who's a Billionaire.

But now? Technically, he's her boss and she doesn't even know it. Perfect!

Neither does anyone else, and they don't care, they keep working, as usual.

All they know is that they have new management, and that's exactly how Terry wants to keep it too. Beloved gets a mysterious raise. What are the chances? A bonus too! She gets elected worker of the month! She gets days off. Their colleagues start doing the bulk of their work for them (as per instruction from, uh, above) their job is generally easier out of the blue and it isn't any coincidence. He ironically ends up doing a load of good things in his yearning to get something out of beloved --- he isn’t even sure what anymore. I think that Terry would compartmentalise whenever he comes to the diner and finds beloved actually smiling and not falling off of their feet serving tables anymore, because he intervened. He supposes he feels pleasant here, and why shouldn't he? He should have whatever he wants. A pocket world all of his own, just like this one, if he so wishes. He's Billionaire CEO and Karate Sensei pretending to be just a guy, but here, he's...Terry. Maybe this all reminds him of John? A long, long time ago, John told him he was a busboy before the army? Could be it. Could be all part of the elaborate ruse to make himself relatable in the off chance he's spotted around town? Could be because he actually wants all of this? Could be because Terry's fantasizing scooping beloved off to his actual life, up on The Hills and never letting them work and serve someone's putrid coffee ever again, unless she's serving his, his, his, his. Maybe he should have the very revenue he bought shut down purely so beloved be forced to rely on him, so he could swoop in, like a big hero, and help them? Perhaps he should fire anyone? Only keep beloved out of the whole personnel, as a little figurine in his makeshift pocket world, serving him his...what’s this? Pancake. Hmm. Strange, for someone undoubtedly on a regular diet of Beluga Caviar and Champagne. Could be why Terry and beloved are on their tenth date and Terry desires more.

He has beloved wrapped around his fingers and he finds that he rather likes it.

#i love poorsona!terry #you guys don't even know how much #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #80's terry silver #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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Here’s a head cannon. Say Terry and beloved met a few weeks ago, and he’s obviously obsessed with her at this point (it’s Terry). I’d like to see a story about a gorgeous beloved and the billionaire’s first date (preferably KK3 Terry when he’s young and kinda arrogant XD)

―

-"Margaret, how do I get someone to, you know..."- Terry twirls his hand aimlessly mid air, trying to convey his thoughts on such a short notice. The silent Manicurist, head bowed, tendering to his feet in an oval basin riddled with foam and sweet smelling Macadamia and Rose water oils, Terry was preparing, impromptu, for a very special date, and such events always rendered the mansion under a state of siege. -"Fall head over heels for me and all that bullshit?"- He continues with a chuckle, finding that particular description a bit juvenile and idiotic, perhaps (but, hey, it worked), pointing a ringed finger at Margaret, like someone trying to sell something on an informercial followed by a witty catchphrase. All she does is look at him, poignantly, through her spectacles with his suits are carted in and out on hangers as he rejects them, in bulk, waving his arm instead of a yes and a no. He couldn't just look good, in the way he usually did. He needed to look immaculate. He needed to be a smoke-show. She raises an eyebrow speculatively, affixing her thick-rimmed glasses. She appraises him. He snorts to himself in advance, feeling the sting.

-"Implying you don't know already know how, Mr. Silver."-

Margaret retorts from the desk, sorting out paperwork, folder per folder, on a busy, rushed Friday evening, multitasking doing her chores and keeping him company, leaving everything neat and orderly for the weekend. Sure, Terry knew and Ms. Spencer and Mr. Dadok in particular have been diligently and devoted in the task of cleaning up his escapades and sexcapades for years now, but this wasn't quite it, Terry supposed. He didn't just wanna fuck you and dump you and have his staff and secretaries deal with the aftermath and have his legal team tie all lose ends. He wanted...he wanted something. -"I do, but ---"- A cigar's in his mouth, hanging sideways. He takes a long, generous drag, throwing his head back in the velvet crimson lounge chair that matched his scarlet silk bathrobe, playing with a lone purple grape from the fruit entree, squeezing it, juice popping and leaking unto his finger. Ah, decisions, decisions. Everything had to be perfect. In control. -"Man, I want an input around here!"- His cackling voice practically bellows and echoes through the hall. -"From one person of business to another. Lets go!"-

Margaret stands still, poised and a bit stiff.

Terry continues his explanation.

-"Like, which car do I show up with? Should I book the Astoria? What should I wear? That sort of thing! Mother-son type of advice! C'mon! It's 1986! Lets do it like on Oprah!"- Terry practically claps his hand with a cheerful, competitive spirit, discarding his Cohiba in the nearby ashtray, his fist's pumped once he rejects yet another pinstripe silk Armani suit by merely giving his assistant a death glare. No. He wasn't Al Capone. Then Margaret utters one of her typically Margaret things ---- the cryptic remarks he always had a soft spot for. The type that always had a way of changing the very atmosphere around the room. -"Be yourself."- She answers and Terry halts. Several of the maids preparing his shirts and displaying them for him to browse through, by color and material, scurry out of the room. Terry dismisses the Manicurist too. -"What?"- He reiterates, sitting there, a bit stunned. All he wanted to know which venue was best. -"I said, be yourself, Mr. Silver. Clearly, this means a lot to you, otherwise you wouldn't be putting so much thought into it, all due respect."- She reiterates, stepping closer. The room previously abuzz was now oddly quiet with her authority. There it was, that infamous change of atmosphere.

-"When Mr. Spencer, rest his soul, asked me out, all it took was a stroll."-

Terry listens intently. Must've been one hell of a stroll.

Yes, he knew Margaret was already a widow before she came to work for him.

He's researched that too. It was different hearing it openly, though.

-"On a private note, we had that same stroll for six months and on the seventh, we were married. In the Autumn of 1965, in London."- She tilts her head, arms tidily crossed and Terry practically feels his mouth go dry with a newfound nostalgia. What was he craving all of a sudden? He wasn't even anywhere near being in Vietnam back then. -"We stayed married for thirty years, until he passed away."- Margaret adds and he imagines himself, hand in hand with you in the same way, talking a walk around a beach, the waves soft and salty, your smile illuminated by a swift sundown. His old blue beat up Ford he used as a practical joke parked on the sandy pier. He's wearing jeans and a grey sweatshirt, sleeves rolled up. You didn't know his situation. He hasn't told you. His address. Who he really was. It could work, this plan. The easiness of it alluring. -"The simplest things are sometimes the best, sir."- Margaret's heels click finally, and she's out of the room. -"Have a nice evening."- Her voice disappears over the threshold along with her and Terry remains, in his bathrobe and sweating towel, surrounded by fruit bowls and colognes. -"Thank you, Margaret."- Terry mutters, cigar forgotten.

The simplest things are...

Terry ponders decades of unineterrupted love and loyalty.

Until death do them part and even beyond.

That night, as agreed upon, Terry goes out without announcing it too much to anyone of his staff members, dressed in his jeans and a grey zip up jacket, discarding all other dressing options and the leaving the Rolls Royce he intended to drive out with in his garage, changing his place of meet-up, parking his Ford on a hill overlooking the city vista as he holds your hand and traces his thumb over your skin, the profile of your face illuminated by the lights in the darkness, as you sit together on the grass, entirely alone, above it all, Margaret's words ever-present in his mind. We stayed married for thirty years, until he passed away. You shiver in the cool evening air and Terry rolls you into his jacket, trying to drench the fabric in your scent and warmth so he can inhale you later --- consuming your aroma and etch it into his memory. This wasn't who he was. Not by a long run, but tonight, this is who Terry Silver wanted to be.

#i love subversion #can't you tell?#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #80's terry silver #margaret spencer #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #fluff #angst #poorsona!terrysilver #poorsona!terry

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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“Don’t you dare touch them” (from your prompt!) 80’s Terry protecting beloved when her ex walks up to her in public and tries to give her a hug.

-"So, do we have a deal then?"-

-"Deal."-

-"Deal, what?"-

-"We have a deal, sir."-

-"That's more like it."-

Terry did a thing. A very, very important thing. Terry researched, tracked down, cornered and personally bribed a certain someone's ex to preform a very important task for him after Margaret handed him a case file containing this punk's info and address. Of course, the whimpering, baffled man was shocked to be visited by a stranger, especially with a proposition like this, and furthermore, especially by his past partner's current man, but just as Terry suspected money talks and bills were tight when he found him in his crammed, rented room on Boyle Heights with weirdly mismatched furniture and a faucet that kept dripping on and on, clutching the heavy wad of cash for dear life, like something that could slip through his fingers any second now, counting it and eyeing Terry speculatively up and down like he was afraid this was some kind of elaborate joke. Like Christmas came early this year and Santa didn't arrive in the expected shape down the chimney. Terry donned his costume. Drove here in his run down, busted up blue Ford even you knew him by. Sweet, humble, jeans-wearing Terry with a heart of gold. The uniform of a hard done by, commonplace man to fit into the neighbourhood and his overall surroundings. He supposed there was a special flavour of comedy of fishing an upward of ten G's out of his jacket's pocket with an unbearably impossible, borderline offensive ease, all in bills of hundreds, was comedy, dressed how he was dressed, arriving in the mode of transportation he arrived in. Man thought this was a trick and Terry relished that. Putting up a bit of theatre was a way of life. -"I assure you it's not."-

He quips, from the doorway, turning to leave, having concluded his business here.

He didn't want to stick around in this rathole more than needed.

Some reassurance was psychologically needed though.

Terry required this to function like a well oiled machine.

-"Why, though? Why any of this?"-

The man asks, stiff as a board, his body language tense yet eager. Wanting to please, yet afraid, by the looks of him. Terry smelled his fear. Why? Why was he doing this? As much as Terry didn't need to be questioned by a lower lifeform and a worm, it was quite simple; he didn't wish to indulge the unworthy, but he absolutely can't help himself. -"Doesn't everyone want to be a hero?"- Terry responds, in full honesty and not before-long, he's out the door, shutting apartment room 23 behind himself, not waiting for a response as he made it down the stairs of the run-down apartment block with no functional elevator and the police sirens blaring somewhere down the street at dusk --- terribly working class. Well, you were terribly working class too, difference was, you were his. Terry's plan was, in effect, to pay off your ex to act overly touchy and invasive with you during a quint walk in the park. A fully staged, illusory event, naturally, during which, Terry will jump to the defense of the situation, easily disarming him. This was agreed on. The man agreed to taking a bit of a beating for a fair price. Ah, how Terry loved being able to buy anything, even people's consent in being roughened up and hurt. And then? Then he would seem better in comparison. A gallant knight protecting you from a creep. You'd love him even more. Be in awe of him. Feel safe with him. Cling to him and his strength. Love me, love me, love me, he thinks feverishly, even as he has that very stroll with you, nine in the morning sharp, a couple like any other and your ex waddles down the sidewalk, hands in pocket, moving like a pawn on a chessboard, exactly your way. Terry sees you go pale and your footsteps halt in stride. So, it begins. Yes!

-"What's wrong?"- Terry innocently pretends not to know.

-"Oh, no. He's coming over to say hi. It's my ex. The one I told you about."-

Sure, you told Terry, but Terry wasn't content with just being told that someone who belonged to him had someone else beforehand. Terry pondered and pondered and pondered it, until pondering turned to jealousy, and jealousy turned to obsession. Terry wanted to meet the man who was fucking you before him personally and so he did. Met him and bribed him and as planned, he was approaching you now, smiling, supposedly for old time's sake, going in for a hug with a hearty Hello, long time, no see, you've gained some weight, for an extra touch of sleaze and disrespect just like Terry instructed him to do, prompting him to embarrass himself and come off as much of an asshole as he could, carefully choreographing all of this in his head with excessive attention to detail. Reluctant acceptance on your face etched in awkwardness at the unexpected encounter and Terry's hand is on the man's shoulder, pushing him back while the other one was around your waist and fuck's sake, he could win an Oscar for this performance. Terry could've been an actor. Terry could've been a movie director. The stages of Broadway and Hollywood are on fire in his mind as he gets into a fighting stance there and then and your ex braces himself for the impact, no doubt thinking of the extra disposable income the money Terry left him with will cover as inspiration to handle the onslaught. Terry never did tell the guy was a blackbelt who served in the Spec Ops in Vietnam. That was another private joke he kept to himself. -"Don't you dare touch her!"- Terry lounges and there's blood on the street; a reclusive part, devoid of pedestrians. Eyewitnesses that would be a hassle to his imagination.

You shriek and cling to his arm --- Terry's heart sings.

He's happy as he gives your ex the beatdown of his life on the pavement.

And the man takes it; he takes it like someone paid to take it.

#this felt in-character #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #80's terry silver #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; bribery #tw; lies #tw; manipulation of events #tw; violence #tw; dubious ethics #tw; dubious consent #poorsona!terry

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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If Terry was never wealthy and came from poverty, would he be even more dangerous? How would he be different?

I don't know, Terry while he's pretending to be a poor, ordinary person to trick Daniel (or Poorsona!Terry, as I like to call him) gives me major concealed serial killer vibes. Like, hear me out; he is all wholesome, kind, polite on the surface, and he's pretty convincing of it too. All blue jeans, a tucked in grey sweatshirt, a humble, blue busted up Ford that has seen better days. Very 'boy next door', right? Now, let us imagine none of this was an act and this was really his lifestyle after Vietnam. There is no Terry Silver the billionaire. But, there's still his PTSD, his sadistic tendencies, his pathological lying, his artificial charm, his need to hurt people (and his uncanny ability to pull it off), his penchant to fabricate personas, everything he want through in the war; the whole nine yard. A day-to-day ordinary Terry could just go the opposite route; pretending he is some secretly rich, trust fund guy with a big inheritance waiting for him when such a story becomes tactically useful. Is there rage over the fact that his monetary situation is less than stellar and beyond his control? Possibly. Is there even more a volatile nature to him because he can't afford any of the vices he perhaps uses to quell himself, like excess spending, narcotics or expensive liquor? Very likely. Can I see him scamming, tricking and lying even more because it is the means to an end and he can gain a lot from it? Yes. Would he be a con artist (bordering on a willing gigolo who is just as ready to hurt people, rob them and kill them if need be?) who wouldn't stay poor too long because he is too cunning, sleek and ambitious to accept his lot in life? Also yes. Does he give me shades of Travis Bickle, with the added extra of a Machiavellian side to him where Terry would stop at nothing to gain what he wants, using whoever he wants? Maybe.

In the end, I can envision him manipulating, seducing and masterfully taking advantage of trusting, naive people who have more than him so expertly they pretty much just gladly give him money without realizing they're being had.

#terry silver #poorsona!terry #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; implied gigolo

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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If Terry had a partner around the time of KK3 do you think he would try and get them to join his poorsona act with him or just leave them at home?

He could...but he also doesn't have to.

Both are equally insidious.

Both have their own why and explanation.

I mean, if he wanted to broadcast his sense of traditional, classical normality, then he could include his beloved, yes? Maybe give Daniel the impression Sensei Silver is not only a well-meaning chap, but also a well meaning chap who's a family man? Oh, look, there's a smiling significant other in the dojo backrooms preparing a lovely, sweet-smelling dinner and inviting Daniel to stay over and they're wearing a cute apron too. There's a charming, quaint warmth in that. A sort of innocence. How could one possibly not be trustworthy of Terry Silver's intentions then? How could one not trust this new, reformed Cobra Kai? If that's the company he keeps? It would make Terry look tame. Domesticated. Digestible. Even more humble. Non-threatening. With not much to offer, but with a heart of gold nonetheless. The more harmless his significant other looks, the better, because the harmless aura rubs off on Terry too. Bonus points seeing as how Daniel's own family unit is very much broken and jumbled at the time, his dad dead, his mom elsewhere caring for an ill uncle and his own mentorship laying in one Mr. Miyagi. A teenage Daniel might yearn to viscerally and indirectly be a part of this family unit instead, no? Therein lies the trap. Terry knows that, ever the tactician.

At the same time, Terry could very easily leave his beloved at home and said trap would be equally effective. Why? Because Daniel needs to form an attachment to him and a significant other present would be a hindrance and Terry is aware of that. His partner present, looming around somewhere might ruin that mentor / student fantasy he intentionally plays into. It dispels the illusion that Terry is just some handsome, kindly teacher out in the wild who is conveniently alone and conveniently understands a curious Daniel in need of guidance and knowledge. Terry is, conveniently here, allowing himself to be projected on. The snake in the garden isn't as seductive if a snake also has a wife present, you know. Like, I feel it is pretty much canon that Terry did want to awaken very confused feelings in Daniel deliberately like a predator would, traumatize him as a result and have him unstable with fear to ensure he loses the tournament and suffers lifelong consequences. But, to achieve that, he needed to lure Daniel in first. To lure Daniel in, Daniel needed to trust and lean into this man so much so that it verges on having a crush on the teacher, to put it mildly. It is a bit more complicated if the teacher has a partner present, no? So, said partner can also very easily stay at home.

Both work.

Both are very, very, very evil.

Both are super effective.

#terry silver #daniel larusso #kk3 #cobra kai #terry silver x reader #poorsona terry #poorsona terry silver #all sorts of trigger warnings

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