#ponytail/terrence silver

[creepiecreator]

Thought about ponytail writing a letter to terry before he died?

Ponytail's Letter

my apologies, this damned thing took forever to get down properly! But overall it was a ton of fun to write!

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Terrence had seen it all with his own eyes. He had seen that bullet pierce Ponytail’s skull, saw his blood and brain matter scattered over the grass, seen his best friend offer to fight in his stead to keep him alive, saw his superior die in a pit of cobras. He had seen it all, with wide, trembling blue eyes. Yet he had never shed a single tear, too scared of taking his eyes off of what little he had left to do so. He was so incredibly scared that he’d lose John too, so scared that he’d lose his own life. The young man hardly even blinked the whole ordeal, terrified of what could happen in that oh so brief moment of darkness. 

But this…Oh, there was something about this that absolutely broke him. He knew he was safe now, away from the gunfire and death, and yet. This letter, folded so neatly in his hands still brought him more despair. Knowing that it would be the last time he would ever get to hear from his deceased comrade on the battlefield was just too much for him. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t bring himself to open it, instead keeping the paper on him, treating it as though it was nothing less than a holy relic ever since their superior had given it to him before they left the humid jungles of Vietnam to head back to a home that now felt just as foreign as the jungle had the first time he had boots on the ground in that hell-hole of a country. It had been a few weeks now, and home still didn’t feel like home, and that letter still remained unopened. He knew it was stupid not to want to open it, after all, it was just a letter. Terry knew it couldn’t hurt him. He knew that no matter what, Ponytail was long since dead, rotting away on some jungle floor where he couldn’t do anything about it. God, did that thought kill him. All he had left was that damned letter. And he both wanted to see what was inside so badly, and simultaneously didn’t. He supposed the thought process was similar to Schrödinger's cat. As long as the letter was unopened, he knew that there was still words left to say between the two, however one-sided they may be considering how Terrence knew he couldn’t respond to the other, and that made it feel as though the other was still with him. Who was to say, that when the letter opened and the words were read, that the version of the man in his head would still remain alive? Though, it seemed that the more liquid courage he consumed, the more stupid that idea seemed. Terry downed his third glass of undoubtedly inconceivably expensive whiskey, setting the crystal glass to the side to once again pick up the letter, holding it oh so carefully in his hands and just simply staring at the piece of paper for god only knew how long before gingerly opening the letter, and beginning to read. Hey, Twiggy

Listen, I dunno how long this is gonna be, I don’t know how much longer I can write without waking anyone up. But I have to do something about this. I don’t know why, but I don’t have a good feeling about tomorrow. Call me superstitious but, I have a feeling that I’m not gonna be coming home from this. I keep telling myself that that’s fine. It’s war, I know not everybody's gonna make it home. But hell, I’m still scared. It feels like the end of a movie coming up, and you know it’s gonna end, but you just don’t want it to because when it does, you won’t be able to ever watch it or experience anything else related to it again. Does that make sense? Anyway. I wanted to write this just in case I’m right about this. I want to finally put everything to paper in case I can’t be on that flight home with you guys. I want you to know how damn important you are to me. I didn’t exactly like ya too much at first, I’m sure you picked up on that. But hell, did you grow on me. You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for, you ain’t that strong sure, but you could always improve that. What you have is something that can’t be taught, as dumb as writing that sounds. You’re real smart, and charismatic too. I think you don’t know just how skilled you are, Twig, And it's important to me that you hear this from me, because I’m pretty damn sure that this is the only way you’ll ever get it through your thick skull that you have your own skills, you don’t gotta keep comparing yourself to Johnny and me. Just live your own life, exercise your own strengths, and you’ll be successful, mark my words. Speaking of John. Please just stick together. I know we’re all close enough, sure. But I know that you two will be just fine if ya stick together, and I think that will bring me some piece of mind. You both compliment each other's strengths, as cheesy as that sounds. If you two support each other when you can, I figure that you’ll both be fine there and that means I could rest easy without having to worry about you two. And really, I’m pretty sure I’ve earned that much yeah? It sounds like Johns about to wake up if I keep writing much longer. I knew this flashlight was a little too bright. So I better finish up here.

I know I asked a lot of you so far in this letter, sure. But I have one more favor, okay? One friend to another. Please just remember me. I know I am probably not making it out of here, war likes to do that to people, but as scared as I am of dying, the thought of being forgotten really does scare me more. All I want is to not be forgotten, and for you and John to live and live well. You two deserve great things in life, getting to know you two has been the highlight of this dreary bullshit that is this jungle. Stay alive, stay well.Ponytail.  …. Of course Ponytail had thought he wasn’t going to be going home. Of course he did-looking back on it the slightly older man had been acting odd the day they had set out to complete their mission… He should have called him out on it, not that it would change anything logically speaking. He was fairly certain, all things considered, even if he had gotten sent back in time that Ponytail’s death may have been inevitable, the poor man. He hadn’t deserved that. None of them had. And yet, at least he had met the two of them. Even if he had lost Ponytail, he had still gotten to know him. He supposed he should be thankful for that.

He took a deep, shaky breath, one hand moving to rub his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He had to at least attempt to keep himself together. But God help him, that lump in his throat and that stinging pain in his eyes just grew more, those tears swelling up in his eyes until the dam finally broke, breaking down into a crying mess in the confines of his own home despite willing so strongly for it to just stop, for that heavy weight sitting upon his chest to go away, it simply stayed there.

Terry knew he had only had Ponytail for a brief moment in their lives, yes, but that man, with how stubborn and stupid he could be, how strong and charming he was, had left an undeniable hole in his life. One that he never would have had if he had not gone to Vietnam, one that felt as though it could never be fixed with any of the money in the world.  And yet, he knew damn well that even if he could fix it, he wouldn’t. Because that overwhelming, crushing grief was proof that Ponytail had existed. He had existed, and he had touched and affected so many people. Terrence would never let that be forgotten.

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

You just love making me sad 😭😔

This is beautiful

Been thinking of ponytail haunting terry in 85 like tell him it wasn’t his fault because I seen so many fanfic of ponytail talking to John and saying it wasn’t his fault but god damn do I feel like terry has so so much more guilt I mean the dude basically carry ponytail with him he becomes him to hold him close I wonder how ponytail would react to seeing terry again

Honestly, imagine if Ponytail's ghost did blame Terry.

Not his literal ghost, of course, but simply the baggage that pollutes the psyche in the form of memories and trauma.

Far more realistic for anyone suffering from wartime PTSD and survivor's guilt. Terry Silver gets haunted by Ponytail who is very much embittered and angry that his young life was cut short and effectively stolen by the banality of something as random and stupidly clumsy as Terry's radio equipment going off at the wrong time and that Ponytail paid for it with his head, leading to Terry feeling it is his obligation to make up for it by paying homage to Ponytail for the rest of his adult life afterwards and going a step further, by becoming Ponytail, in effect. The memory that haunts him has no need to be angry anymore, because see, technically, he's alive. Terry's keeping him alive. Terry has become that which filled him with guilt until the guilt and the weakness of it both disappeared.

[atmostories]

Terry Silver x Reader

Tags: NSFW, Female Reader, Exhibitionism A gift for @terrence-silver 🖤🖤🖤 An Evening At The Opera

You were out like a light. Was the opera really that boring? Terry sniggered to himself as he possessively caressed your hair, fingers twirling and wrapping around the strands. You were napping on his lap while Reginald drove the limo back home to the hills. The lights of LA streamed past him in an unintelligible blur, the events of the evening still rushing through his body like two fresh hits of ketamine in his bloodstream. He could do with a cigar right now, but didn't want to disturb you with any movement. The celebration could wait. There was a growing urge to take you the moment you entered the mansion's threshold, or hell he could even fuck you right on the entranceway, smear his come and yours on the front door to mark this home as both his and yours forever. Like two king cobras marking the entrance to their den, a declaration of their mated nature, a warning to strangers to stay clear or face the consequences. Love and death all intertwined as one. However, his beloved needed to rest. He'd have you again first thing in the morning, wake you up to the sensations of his body desperately rubbing against yours. "We missed over an hour of the opera, my dear, we'll simply have to go again." He'd whisper and giggle into your ear, no doubt thinking of what transpired.

/ / / La Bohème was completely sold out. So of course, Terry had purchased the biggest box of the theatre, best seat in the house. The previous holder of the box had been outbid, much to their distress Margaret had assured him. Well, if you wanted something, you took it. Why was that so hard for people to understand? Just like he took you. Somehow you were both easier and harder to take than he thought it would be. Easier because your feelings for him were so potent even from early on. That made his toes curl just at the thought, how much you wanted him, how your devotion shone through you like a reflection of his own, more blinding than the sun itself. And it was harder because he needed to earn your trust. Trust had never been something he'd needed to foster when he was seducing someone. Usually all he'd need to do was give the right look, mutter an innuendo here or there, and his body would do the rest of the work. He never had to chase someone before. Whoever peeked Terry's interest, already wanted him. There was never any hesitation involved. He never realised how exciting the thrill of the hunt would be. Forever being thrown prey into his cage, fat and lazy from the endless offerings, until the day he spotted you beyond the threshold of his contained dominion. He couldn't just take your body, that was too easy. He needed your mind, your heart, your fucking soul cradled against him to keep for all eternity. When you both arrived at the theatre, Terry ensured you went through the staff only entrance. You simply looked too ravishing tonight, he couldn't allow the paparazzi to have up close shots of you. He guided you through the back area like he owned the place, which he of course did now, past the stage hands and technicians, past the dressing rooms of the performers. They cooed and greeted you like you were both the star lovers of the show, wishing that you enjoyed the evening.

"Break a leg." Terry announced to them. He smirked at you then, enjoying the amused but almost reprimanding expression on your face. His heart panged with desire, fuck he wanted you so badly. The waiting area was buzzing with guests and conversation, the excitement palpable in the air, but the noise noticeably quietened when the two of you came in. Many faces turned to you, Terry subconsciously tightened his grip around your white faux fur capelet-covered shoulder. Your capelet matched the white ribbon adorned on his ponytail, which you had tied yourself. Your blood red tailored dress matched his cravat and waistcoat underneath his jacket. He ensured that it was the exact shade of your blood from the cut he most definitely didn't purposefully cause by prodding your finger against a rose thorn in the east wing greenhouse almost a month ago. His mind was filled with the image of sucking your finger for almost half an hour, the heady metallic taste of you ripe in his memory. Heading to the box, he led you up the stairs, hand in hand. An announcement was made over the speakers that the performance would start shortly. Right on cue. You were shown into box by a personal butler who he immediately dismissed after you'd taken your seat. He wanted the two of you alone, undisturbed. After all, he wasn't here for the damn opera. The box was extremely luxurious, it had its own bar in the corner, its own bathroom. Rather than two separate seats, the two of you sat on an eighteenth century Chesterfield that he'd had specially procured for the evening. He asked whether you liked the box and you were gushing out compliments to him, eyes wide with excitement as you took in view of the theatre, the perfect central location with the best view of the stage and the orchestra in front of it. "Have I told you how beautiful you look, my dear?" Your cheeks reddened like he was summoning your blood to the surface like a satanic blood ritual, your skin almost splitting open upon a rose thorn. “Yes you have, Terry, thank you. And you look very handsome.” "Do I?" He feigned, his hand reaching up to rest on your neck. The lights of the theatre dimmed, his thumb rubbing along your throat. It was his explicit gesture to you that he was hard and desperately needed to be inside of you. A gasp escaped your mouth before you stuttered out a yes. His eyes flicked down to his lap, his silent command for you to place a hand on his cock, to feel how much he needed you, for you to dare question his desire for his beloved. Your motion was slow, delayed, you weren't entirely comfortable doing this here, but you obeyed, you always did. You were so good to him. You gasped again, feeling how hard he was over his slacks. You never could exactly grasp the depths of his want for you, the hardness of his cock physical proof that words couldn't quite place. La Bohème began its opening act with its star lovers rather too preoccupied, he mused before shifting his body like he was paying attention to the performance. You followed suit, though your soft, gentle hand kept up its teasing motions, fingers rubbing against his length.

His hips lazily kept raising slightly to meet your touch, the music and singing mere noise in the background. He slid an arm around your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down your throat, I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, he conveyed to you over and over and over. Branding his desire onto your body. Were you wet yet? Were your thighs aching? Were you finding it impossible to take in a deep breath? Was your clit twitching? His other hand rested on your thigh, and your free hand shot out to his with surprising speed as you began urgently rubbing his inner wrist. Now this was your explicit gesture to him. I want you, I need you, I want you, I need you, you begged him, you screamed at him with your wordless gesture. He shot up from the Chesterfield, wrenching the privacy curtains closed as far as they would go. Climbing on top of you, his mouth devoured yours, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to meet your own before he began to suck on your own tongue. He growled at the way you groaned in surprise at the sensation. He pulled away. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all, would it? He hurried you to your feet, ready to carry you out of the box and down the theatre stairs if you weren't fast enough. But you were up and being pulled by him out through the door like the box had been set on fire. “Mr. and Mrs. Silver?” The butler called out, concern heavy in his voice. Terry knew you'd want to satiate this complete stranger, purely out of the goodness of your heart. He sighed internally. "Pressing business!" Terry shouted back, pulling you around the corner. He looked back at you, inflamed by the smile on your face for him knowing just what you wanted. He immediately stopped at the top of the stairs, out of sight from any of the staff. His hand slid under your dress, cupped your cunt and squeezed, forcing a squeal out of your hot, wet mouth. "Pressing indeed." He murmured, capturing your lips for a brief moment before forcing himself to take you down the stairs. Otherwise he'd be fucking you right there and then. He told hold of your waist, taking some of your weight to keep you balanced, how could you not be weak at the knees for him? He came to a halt in the waiting area, head flicking side to side as he took in his options, body shaking in need, cock straining against his underwear, hand gripping onto yours like a lifeline, it was too far to the limo, the back area was busy with people, hmm. . .coat closet? Practically shoving a wad of cash at the attendants, he ordered for them to leave and slammed the door shut behind them. With no time to waste, he stripped off the fur capelet that was covering your bare shoulders and ripped the top part of your dress down, the sound of tearing material made his balls ache. As you stood frozen in shock, his mouth immediately attacked your nipples, he manoeuvred you against one of the coat racks, your back cushioned by real fur coats. He nipped and sucked and nibbled at you without breaking away, you were more out of breath than he was. Something had to be done about those real fur coats, he thought to himself, letting out a chuckle as he pulled back, giving you a second to take in oxygen. Taking to his knee, he wrenched up the dress to your hips, knocked apart your legs and shoved his mouth into your wet cunt like a man dying of thirst and god he felt like it. You squealed and desperately grabbed onto his shoulders for support. He played with your clit with his tongue, incensed by your constant stream of moans and cries. Working a finger inside of you, he began a relentless pace, rubbing your clit side to side, fucking you deep with one finger before working in another, and then a third. Your legs were shaking by then, your eyes kept rolling back, your hand mindlessly gripping onto his hair, undoing the meticulously neat ponytail you'd tied back earlier that evening. His white ribbon fell onto the floor.

He was too selfish to let you come first, he wanted to come with you. Pulling his mouth and fingers away from you, he rose off the floor to stand. You looked like you'd been fucked out of your mind and his cock hadn't even been inside of you yet. As he scrambled to release his cock, he lifted up one of your legs and you cried out together when he sunk into you. He growled at the wet, tight, hot sensation, relishing it for a fleeting moment before he began to move. Leaning down, his forehead pressed against yours, his tongue licking up the side of your face, his lips laying kisses on your cheeks. He could taste your come, your sweat, your skin. He fucked you hard and fast, your bodies laced together, the mated king cobras deep in the throws of heat. The two of you as one, like it was always meant to be. His hips kept thrusting into you. He knew you were close, he was close to. Weeks and weeks had been spent tuning himself to your rhythms, learning how to delay his pleasure and the effort had paid off tenfold. He upped his paced, feeling that you were about come, his body clinging onto yours. Falling silent as you climaxed together, the sound of you orgasming was music to his ears. He slowed his pace after you reached the peek, emptying himself inside of you. He looked at you then, his thumb coming up to rub against your throat. The touch made you come back to reality, you looked back at him, mouth open, expression spent, someone needed a nap, rest her head right up against his cock. Pulling out of you, he took to his knees again to admire some of his come drip down your thighs. He wiped it off your skin with his hand and wiped it on the fur coats behind you. "My dear doesn't like fur." He commented casually as you stared at him quizzically. After collecting more come leaking from you, he wiped it on another coat, and another. He was doing his part after all, ruining these horrible people's coats. The curiosity on your expression was replaced by concern, your eyebrows furrowing when he took to his feet. “Angel, your hair,” you muttered, regret on your expression, hand reaching out to tuck some of it behind his ear. He snatched onto your hand, staring at you for ten long seconds before sniggering and falling into a fit of laughter.

[secretsandwritinggs]

pretty sure i was the one who asked about the platonic senseis

& i had in mind a platonic terry silver fluff headcanons w a gn teen reader .. maybe the teen is a larusso 👀.

no rush, platonic cobra kai fics are js really limited 🫶 ty if you do the request

pairings - Terrence ‘Terry’ Silver & non-binary!LaRusso teen

kg’s notes - here is to making some fluff headcanons between Silver and a teen LaRusso! this is for sure not perfect, but here hee! i am almost nervous to post this but… :)

He invites you to his office space and has a little assigned corner for you to do your own work

Often mentions how he met Daniel many times to annoy you, but you don’t want to hear it

You are the only one who tends to know how he slicks back his hair into the ponytail

Also the only one who is allowed to touch it

Frequently takes you out for shopping for things you don’t even need but loves to spoil you rotten

Frequently asks for your location/or to turn it on when he doesn’t know where you are

Loves to spend quality and quantity time with you

Prefers to cook for you rather than take you out to any fancy restaurants

Caught you singing in the shower once now he sings when he gets ready for the day

He’s a very good singer and musician and loves to teach you how to play his piano

Has helped you with overcoming the majority of your fears, even called one silly

Is surprisingly good at using technology, but doesn’t know how to use a computer sometimes

Has done your homework a couple times when you were away and claimed that he was “bored”

Loves to crack his knuckles at random times, and helps you with cracking yours

He primarily helps you pop your back and knees

Switches out your shampoo when you’re obvious

Loves to style/play your hair any chance he gets

Loves to match color schemes with you, or have matching outfits with you

Doesn’t know a calm way to show affection so a large bouquet of flowers would be on your locker or desk in class

Stays up with you to watch your favorite show

He gets obsessed with knowing if there will be new episodes for you to watch, so he could tell you first thing in the morning

Loves to playing bored games instead of “those” online games that everyone else plays

The two of you interchangeably prank the other, but you give it to him as the best one out of you

You found out that he owns a Tumblr blog at the same time he found yours

You two have been mutuals this entire time

this is all i can think of at the moment, but this might be edited with some more later so stay tuned?

[cobra-wives]

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

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

[msfbgraves]

I hate the haircut Ralphie has in CK :(( It’s too severe for him!! It’s not that I don’t like shorter hair on him, but the parting is too neat and…harsh. He looks best with floppier hair like Naked in New York or The Outsiders interview, or hair that is fluffy and messy like the darling Teddy look. Let him be prettier, CK writers!! And speaking of hair, I actually don’t like the very tight ponytail Terry has. It looked good in KK3 with the slick gel, but now that he’s older it’s again, too severe. A looser ponytail would look better, like when he was fighting Robby, or let those nice waves free! Or, cut his hair short, and let him look like a distinguished Sugar Daddy. And finally, Johnny looks best with stubble and messy, “my life sucks” hair like in the first episode of CK. Let him look like a scruffy loser, it’s hot!

So in response to this, Nonnie, I went back to look at some pictures that Ralph has put out there of himself, and he seems to agree with you. Ralph's hair is always slightly more tousled, even when cut short! Ah, well, CK and its obvious anti-Daniel bias, I've decided to enjoy Ralph acting circles around that. It's mostly funny at this point (though I will not forgive them for making him a shitty father to Anthony. Even Ralph can't fix that). But hair - they're so afraid of making him beautiful, but I find that this lends layers to his character. Lemonade out of lemons amirite.

Johnny has only ever done anything for me scruffy too! No offense to Mr. Zabka, who is objectively very handsome and charismatic. But bearded Johnny is hottest Johnny.

That ponytail, I think even Terry in-story knows isn't his best look, but it means something to him - I have read fantastic analysis by @terrence-silver about how it honours his friend Ponytail in Vietnam, and it's how Danny boy knew him... in story, Terry did cut it short but grew it out again too. I find it plausible that Terry knows it isn't his best look but it means so much he doesn't care. TIG wears it shorter, anyway.

[bees--in-my--bones]

Silver Linings - Terry Silver Part 1 of 7

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

----- / Chapter 2

Character: Terry Silver x female reader

Summary: Terry has been spending far too much time away from home, and you've had enough of the dojo taking up all his time.

Warnings: fighting, manipulation, mention of cocaine, mention of violence, fade to black scene, but really nothing too crazy (surprisingly)

Word Count: 3400

A/N: This man makes me so insane. This was meant to be a one shot that went a little differently but I ended up outling a seven part series. oops. keep an eye out for those. anywho I've been reading a lot of @terrence-silver 's stuff and I just wanna tell you right now that's where the good Terry Silver writing is. I literally wrote that sentence then got distracted for 20 minutes looking at their blog. but anyway they characterize him far better than i ever could but here's my shot at it

While you didn’t appreciate being treated as an assistant, your husband had that glint in his eye that you knew all too well.  He was planning something, and whether it be trying to get a leg up on a rival businessman or purely just to spite someone, you knew better than to get in his way.  Best to let him have his fun, and it would all blow over in a few weeks at the most.

-----

Terry had come to you only a few days ago with a request:  Clear out the house and have the staff get to work.  You were hosting a charity auction.

So had you sent Dorothy, your personal assistant, off to make arrangements with the head of household staff, and kept your mouth shut.  Terry had been on edge more often lately since getting back into Cobra Kai, so you were positive that a more passive approach to his sudden burst of charity was far better suited to the situation.  In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if this whole thing had something to do with his dojo.  Most things did nowadays.

Unfortunately, you were right.  

You hid your surprise and annoyance when Daniel LaRusso himself showed up on your doorstep, silently observing the fear on his face from your spot on your husband’s arm, as the karate champion turned car salesman turned sensei realized exactly whose home Eva Garcia had thrown her charity event at.

Again, you kept a stony facade when Terry outbid everyone for Daniel’s bonsai trees, then took the opportunity to spin another spiel about Cobra Kai’s expansion.

And no one would have guessed that you had even registered Daniel LaRusso’s outburst, the one that caused Terry to fall into the bonsai trees and send them flying, more than likely egged on by your husband himself, had you not leaned over to Dorothy with a murmured instruction.

“Have someone clean those up.  I want them in my office.  And place an order for a book on the care and keeping of bonsai trees.”

Weaving through the crowd, you made your way to Terry, who now had a considerable amount of dirt on his jacket, but was standing.  Eva Garcia was fawning over him, trying to ensure that he hadn’t broken anything.  You nearly laughed at the thought of your husband being “frail” in his old age, but that seemed to be the front he had decided to put on.  

Silently, you took his hand and led him away from the party.  You took him to your room, where you slipped his now dirt-covered jacket off of him and made him sit on the edge of the bed.  He obeyed every prompt from you without a sound, eyes watching intently as you moved across the room and into the closet, emerging shortly after with a different coat.

You set it on the edge of the bed, then grabbed a brush from the nightstand.  You slipped the ponytail off of his frazzled hair, which was met with some protest, but you batted his hand away, and he was silent after that.

Gently, you combed out the tangles and the frizz, and you felt him relax under your touch.  You did this daily, and you couldn’t deny that the trust he put in you to take care of him filled you with pride, even if it was as simple as brushing his hair.  “Do you want your hair back up?” you asked him, the first thing you had spoken this entire time.   

“Yes,” he answered bluntly, and although you missed the days that he more often let his long hair flow more freely, the way it gently curtained his face when he looked down at you, you obliged, expertly smoothing his locks back into his signature ponytail.  Not that you cared all that much anyway.  You had fallen in love with him with the ponytail, and you genuinely didn’t think he could do anything that would make him less attractive.

“I’ll be outside,” you told him, intending to leave him to put on the suit jacket himself, and effectively avoid rejoining the party at his side.  But when you began to walk away, you had barely even made it a few steps before he grabbed your wrist and stood up in one smooth motion, pulling you into him.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  “What’s bothering you?”

So he could tell you were upset.  You weren’t surprised.  After all, you hadn’t tried too hard to hide it.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” you replied.  You smiled your best fake smile and took his hand in yours.  

He seemed skeptical, but did not argue.  You turned to face the mirror, and he turned with you.  The both of you were dressed in a matching deep blue, an undeniable team.

"Thank you for making the arrangements for today," he said in a gentle voice you had only ever heard him use with you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.  "It's going exactly as well as I hoped it would have."

You felt a twinge in your stomach at that statement, which was practically a confirmation that the whole point of today had been to interfere with Daniel and Amanda LaRusso.  But you didn't dare let your smile drop as you stretched up to his face to plant a kiss on his cheek.  "Anything for you.  But we better get back."

He looked away from the mirror, and his eyes softened as they found you once more.  "Right as always, my love."  He took the lead, and the two of you returned to the party as one.

It wasn't long before you were separated again, though, called in different directions.

You played the part of the passive bystander well, you knew that.  But you were an observer, and at that point, you were positive you knew exactly what was happening.  And with your husband’s observation skills being as keen as your own, you knew you had a matter of minutes to enact the plan slowly forming in your mind.  Grabbing two flutes of champagne off of a passing tray, you made your way over to Eva Garcia.

The glass of champagne outstretched, you gave her your most dazzling smile.  “How are you liking the accommodations Ms. Garcia?”

She accepted the drink, her friendly smile matching your own.  “Thank you, Mrs. Silver.  Your home is wonderful, and we're so grateful you and your husband were able to put this on with such short notice.”

“Of course!” you said, briefly touching one of your hands to hers.  “We were positively honored to do so.  But between you and me, I did far more of the work than Terry did,” you said with a wink.

She laughed.  It was a lie.  You had given one instruction and Dorothy and the rest of the staff had taken care of it.  But that’s not a story that added very much to your little game, and creating some sort of friendly solidarity with Garcia was your main goal.

“You both have been very generous hosts,” Eva responded politely.

“A little too generous if you ask me,” you replied.  This was the most pivotal part of the conversation.  Screw it up here and it all went out the door.  You raised your glass to your lips, eyes darting quickly around the room.  Terry hadn’t spotted you yet.  Good.

“Whatever do you mean?” Eva asked, her brow furrowing.

You sighed.  “In all honesty, I think my husband only wants a spot on the board.  I mean, the hosting on such short notice, the overbidding at the auction, the bit of theatrics he pulled with Daniel LaRusso…  They’ve been rivals for some time now, of course.”  You swirled the champagne around in your glass.  “Probably just wants a tax writeoff.”  You shrugged and took another, conspicuously large drink of the alcohol.  Eva blanched, and you knew you had her.  The host’s wife, slightly tipsy, slightly bitter, and loose of lip.  Like always, you played your part well.

“Mrs. Silver, if I understand you correctly,” Eva began hesitantly, but allowing her curiosity to get the better of her, “you believe Mr. Silver would not be suited to be on our charity’s board?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be a very good wife if I said it quite that frankly…”

She nodded, but her voice was still unsure when she spoke again.  “I suppose I’ll have to take what you said into mind, but I can’t overlook the generous contributions Mr. Silver has already made to our group.  With him on the board-”

“Two million dollars, right now, if you cut all contact with my husband and his corporations.  I don't care who the position goes to.”

In all honesty you would choose Amanda LaRusso, out of spite, but you didn't want to sully her name with your bribery.

Eva’s eyes widened.  “Mrs. Silver!  What kind of game are you playing?”

You looked her dead in the eye.  “My husband is playing ringmaster right now, and everyone at this party is a clown in his circus.  I simply want to throw my own hat into the ring.  I don’t know what his plan is, or why he’s doing it exactly, but I have been married to that man long enough to know when he’s manipulating someone, and he’s manipulating the hell out of you right now.  I’m offering you a chance to get away from his scheming, with an extra two million dollars to boot.”

She set her mouth in a firm line.  You could tell she was a woman of high morality, but two million dollars was two million dollars.  “I would have to consider it.”

“That’s all I ask,” you replied.  You took a business card out of the pocket of your dress.  “My assistant’s number is on here.  Call her when you've come to a decision.”

“Mrs. Silver I-”

“My darling!”  A deep voice interrupted her, and a moment later you felt a kiss on your cheek.  Turning, you met Terry’s eyes and your face broke into a grin.  Despite your suspicions and scheming, you did love the man.  You wouldn’t have married him otherwise.

“My love,” you responded, and placed a kiss on his cheek in a similar fashion.  Your gazes did not leave each other for a tense moment.  To an outside observer, it was impossible to tell whether you were sizing each other up or simply swept away in a moment of romantic passion.  You didn’t quite know yourself.

“My apologies for the public display of affection Ms. Garcia,” Terry said, snapping his attention toward your guest and away from your eyes, but not without snaking an arm around your waist. “I got a bit excited at the sight of my wife.  I feel as though I've hardly seen her today.”

Or at all lately, you thought.  Not with all your Cobra Kai bullshit.

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Silver,” she replied.  She seemed, for the most part, casual, but you could hear a hint of tightness in her voice.  “You two make a lovely couple.”

Terry grinned at this, and you smiled politely.  “Thank you very much, Ms. Garcia.  Y/N is nothing short of the light of my life.”  A small squeeze of your waist as he said this.  Threatening or affectionate?  Who could tell?

“I trust you’ve been enjoying the party?” Terry continued.  “We worked hard to put it all together, but I do think we pulled it all off well.”

Eva glanced at you.  “Yes, the whole organization is very appreciative.”

“Truly, it was our pleasure,” your husband responded.  “Now, I do apologize for this, but do you mind if I steal my beautiful wife away?  Some friends were asking for her.”

“Of course,” Eva replied, some of the tension dropping from her shoulders.  “Thank you both again.”

With a nod Terry guided you away from her.  “What did you talk about with Eva?” he asked.  His tone was light, and with anyone else in the world, it may have sounded like casual conversation, but you knew Terry Silver better than you knew anyone, and you knew that he was suspicious.

“I was chatting you up,” you replied.  “You wouldn’t have put this event on without some sort of goal in mind, so I figured I could put in a good world for you.  Talk about the work we’ve done together.”

“You don’t believe that I did all this out of the goodness of my heart?”

You laughed.  “That would be the day, Terry.”

“Hm,” was all he said after that, a faint smile on his face.  Unfortunately, Terry Silver also knew you better than he knew anyone, and there was a very good chance that he knew you were lying.  But he said no more on the subject, although you noticed he had plenty of excuses the rest of the day to be sure that you stayed by his side. 

—--

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to Eva again, Terry, however subtly, had made sure of that, but you were fairly certain you didn’t need to.  You had seen the look in her eyes when Terry approached you, and you knew that giving her the impression of a sleazy businessman with a wife who offered bribes would be plenty to keep Terry away from that organization.  Whether she actually took the bribe or not was inconsequential to you, so long as she got the idea that getting involved with Terry Silver would be getting involved with a lot shadier practices than she first thought.

You sat on the couch in your living room, sipping on some tea before bed.  It was a serene ending to a hectic day.  Your serenity was soon disrupted, however, by Dorothy, who entered the room, clipboard in hand.

“Is everything alright, Dorothy?” you asked.  “It’s awfully late.”

“Mrs. Silver, you’ve just received a call from Eva Garcia.  She says that she’s decided to accept your offer.”

“Hm.” you said, slightly surprised that she did accept after all.  “Dorothy, first thing tomorrow morning I need you to set up a transfer of two million dollars to Ms. Garcia’s charity accounts.” 

“Yes ma’am,” she replied, scribbling down the note on her clipboard.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Dorothy.”

She made a quick exit, and you set your tea on the coffee table, laying back down on the couch, shutting your eyes with a contented sigh.  It did feel good to win, even if it was against your husband.

Footsteps entered the room.  “Dorothy?” you asked, not looking up.  “Is there something else?”

“Not Dorothy,” a deep voice reverberated in the otherwise quiet room, causing your eyes to snap open as you quickly rose once more to a sitting position.

“Terry!  It’s past one a.m.!  Where did you go?”

He smiled his ever-placating smile.  “It was just a small late night session with a few of my senseis.  I needed to prepare them with some new techniques for tomorrow’s classes.”

Your brow furrowed and you turned from him, now sitting facing straight ahead.  “Yes, the dojo.  Why bother asking when that’s always the answer?”

He sat down beside you, and ever so gently took your chin into his hand, guiding your face back to look him in the eyes once more.  You saw only love in them.  His hand didn’t leave your face, and he stroked your cheekbone tenderly as he spoke.

“I’m afraid that’s true, my love, which is why I’m glad you’ve waited up for me.  We see so little of each other these days.  I have a vision for these children, for the dojo, for our very methods of karate, a vision that has regrettably taken my time away from you.”  

Slowly, almost mournfully, he drew you in closer, placing a sweet kiss upon your lips.  Even all these years later, you still felt the same butterflies, the same rush of heat to your face as you did the very first time he kissed you.  Which is probably why you didn’t register the slow subtle movement of his hand down the side of your face, didn’t notice as his fingers wrapped around your throat.

His grip was as gentle as could be, his hand merely resting there, as he broke the kiss, but the threat was clear.  His eyes, tender only moments before, were now cold as ice.  

“You forget how long I’ve known you, my love.  I can tell when you’re lying to me.”

You placed your hand onto his, deftly moving it so that your fingers interlocked.  You had neutralized his “threat” but the message was still there.  “What do you mean?” you asked.  Better to deny until you couldn’t deny anymore.

“Eva Garcia.  You paid her off.”

You took some silent offense to his accusation, however true it may be.  “What makes you say that?”

“I had my suspicions this afternoon, but Dorothy is quite loud.  Loud enough to confirm those suspicions at least.  I could hear your discussion from the entryway.”

“Damn,” you whispered, averting your eyes.

He pulled you in close, the gesture forgiving, even if he was upset.  “Why did you do it, beloved?”

Because none of that matters, you wanted to say.  None of the scheming and manipulation mattered if it meant that Terry cared more about the dojo than you.  What mattered was that you were in his arms, he was so close to you, and he was looking at you, really looking at you, in a way that he hadn’t in months.  All it took was one “My love,” one hint of the old Terry to send your defenses crumbling.

You buried your head in his chest and his arms wrapped tighter around you to hold you closer.  “I just miss you.  And I hate Cobra Kai.”

“You what?” came his reply, his tone dangerously low, not at all the comforting sound you would have hoped for.

“I hate that damn dojo and Danny LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence and John Kreese and all of it, because it’s taking you away from me and I don’t know what’s happening to you.”  You looked up at him, placing a hand on his cheek.  “What happened to the sweet Terry that played piano in the mornings and saved the scheming and manipulation for business deals instead of wasting all that energy on a bunch of children?”

His face shifted into what you could only call a sneer.  “That Terry was a facade.  He let the world tell him who he had to be.  I’m finally me again, darling.”  A bitter laugh.  "I was about to start a mindfulness app with some millennial internet personality for God's sake." 

“And I forgive you for that!”

He gripped your shoulders tightly.  “I’m alive in a way I haven’t been since Cobra Kai in the 80s.”

“You told me you were on cocaine back then!” you exclaimed.  You looked into his pupils trying to see if they were dilated.  Not being able to discern anything, you rushed pushed yourself off of the couch and rushed to your bedroom.  Terry only sighed and followed after you.  You dashed to his nightstand and began rifling through its drawer.  “Please tell me you aren’t on something, Terry.”

He took your hands into his own and shut the drawer, effectively calming the frantic state of your body, but not of your mind.  “I’m not on anything.”

“Are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

“You’re the one person in this world that I could never lie to.”

“Then promise me something, right now.”

“Anything, my love.”

“Just… be here.  Even when you're here, it’s like you’re not here.  Do your karate crap, destroy your enemies, truly, I don’t care, but I can’t keep going like this.  I need you.”

You saw the beginnings of a smile on the edge of his lips when you said that, and you knew that you had said the right thing.  If there’s one thing your husband enjoyed, it was the idea that you needed him above all else.  

Suddenly his hands were gripping your waist, tense and itching to move lower, and although his face was only inches from yours, you could see how wide his grin was.  “What do you say I prove it to you right now?” he asked, slowly backing toward the bed.

You gave no verbal reply, only captured his lips in a heated kiss before succumbing to him completely.

-----

A/N: I don't write smut, but I just want to say, smut definitely happened.

----- / Chapter 2

[amorphousgenderlesscryptid]

I wish you would write where Terry Silver cuts his hair...

Oh man, I don't know if I could do it. The glorious hair! But maybe, it's an interesting idea!

I do highly recommend this little Tumblr fic by @terrence-silver about Terry cutting his hair and being haunted by Ponytail's ghost: https://www.tumblr.com/terrence-silver/683906382684192768/when-demetri-found-that-article-about-terry-the

[rip1009]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: John Kreese/Terry Silver Characters: John Kreese, Terry Silver, Captain Turner, Ponytail - Character, mentioned Johnny Lawrence, mentioned Daniel LaRusso, Robbie Keane Additional Tags: Angst, Cobra Husbands, no beta here we die like men, PTSD, usual horror blood and gore associated with war, Rough training, Captain Turner being his usual asshole self Summary:

Captain Turner, blessed be his black heart, taught them, the way he had been taught. Pain was already a fucking bitch and a dear friend reminding them they were still alive in this hellhole.

Or what my mind came up with regarding the scene when we were introduced to captain Turner and his training routine... and it's effect on one Terrence Silver.

The title is inspired by Three Days Grace "Pain"

-----------------------------

because I had to write about Terry Silver and bloodied knuckles and Captain Turner trainings and it turned into this little monster :3

[creepiecreator]

Understanding Him

Terrence Silver wasn't like the rest of the soldiers in their unit. He stood out like a sore thumb, so of course Ponytail fell into the habit of judging the other..or at least. He did at first.

This is just an exercise to get me back into writing for now, so not my best work! But enjoy your Implied Future Silvertail either way! __________________________________

Terrence Silver wasn’t like the rest of them. Seth, now nicknamed Ponytail thanks to his signature hairstyle, could pin that the first moment that he had seen him. He was taller than practically everyone in their unit, skinnier too. The man was more like a tree branch than a tree in that regard. And hence, Ponytail had given him the moniker of Twig extremely early on. Course, he knew it annoyed the hell out of the other man from the moment that it had been given too. But he didn’t exactly care either. He was friends with him, sure, but there was no doubting that Ponytail was closer to John than he was to Terry.

It wasn’t technically the guys fault. John was just more like Seth when it came down to it. They were both shorter than Terry, both of them had more muscle than him and they both came from working class backgrounds. They both had a pension for finding trouble too. Of course, the difference was John didn’t really ask for it, instead it often found him in forms of abusive boyfriends or husbands, and him getting into fights to protect their girl from them. For Ponytail, it was more self-inflicted than not. He had typically ended up causing his own problems, whether it be through pranks or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. When his actions inevitably came back to haunt him, he would deal with it of course. He’d complain about it some, despite it most certainly being all his fault. But he’d still take it like the man he was.

Terry, he didn’t seem to be any of that. His soft hands and build made it seem as if he had never seen a day of hardship in his life, his demeanor was more fitting of a socialite rather than a soldier. It was pretty clear that he had come from money, unlike the rest of them. And on occasions, Ponytail would find himself questioning why this man had ended up out here. Why he hadn’t paid his way out of getting the draft, as the rich and famous often did.

Ponytail thought of himself as a pretty nice guy overall. And he hated to admit this, but those prejudices against the other man were exactly what prevented him from being as close to him as he was to John Kreese. He’d never once say any of those thoughts out loud though. Which seemed to, at the very least, make him a better man than the others in their unit. He had overheard what they called the taller man, both to his face and behind his back. Some weren’t the worst. Like Richie Rich or soft, other times they were slinging real insults, calling him faggot or worse. But still, when it came down to it. It was just name-calling. So when John got even with them, Seth often wouldn’t get involved with the fights himself. Instead, he’d just give the lanky man a few reassuring words here and there.

As time went on though, he started to notice more and more about the men he fought alongside. On rough nights, where exhaustion hung heavy on his bones and yet, he couldn’t quite reach the peaceful sleep his mind so desired, he learned that Twig would often lie awake at night as well, looking to be holding back tears. Ponytail could figure out what that meant easily enough. He didn’t want to be here like the rest of them, and he was terrified to be in the midst of war. Some men signed up for this, sure. But any man who reacted like that very clearly didn’t want to be here. Maybe there was a reason that the guy didn’t pay his way out of the draft. Maybe he had a family who forced him into this. Truthfully, that wouldn’t be a stretch to believe, considering how many parents he had seen back at home, dragging their older sons to the recruitment office to be sent off to fight in the jungles of Vietnam. He had taken a point to try to be more attentive after that night. Wanting to see exactly what kind of man Twig was, beyond the rumors and insults that the others had spoken. He was talking to him more than he had before, putting in more of an effort to be closer to him the same way Ponytail was with their Johnny. He had noticed how attentive Twig seemed to be to both him and John, his intelligence, and how he cared so much about them despite being terrified himself. There was no doubt in his mind. Twig was a good man, one he was proud to call his friend despite the differences between them and despite any insults or rumors anyone else may throw about.

He had no doubt in his mind that Terrence Silver was the type of man he would take a bullet for.

[terrence-silver]

Would terry have more trouble taking beloved who is famous/ a celebrity?

---

-"In 1983,"- Demetri holds up the old, tattered gossip periodical they've fished out of Mrs. Moskowitz's attic stash of dusty trinkets and forgotten keepsakes, reading carefully, wide eyes following every line, every word like it was lifechanging --- like they could find the Yeti or the Sasquatch hidden somewhere among the many columns, Hawk perched up beside him on the squeaky floorboard surrounded by boxes, scoffing, clearly not appreciating the great mystery they were so close to uncovering together. -"After their subsequent movie one hit wonder one the Red Carpet, the dazzling career of one of Hollywood's and LA"s aspiring sweethearts takes a sudden nosedive nobody foresaw coming."-

He acutely feels Hawk's amused eyeroll burning a hole in the back of his head.

How was this not exciting for him!?

Binary Bros, uncovering the puzzle behind a 80's mega-star slipping into obscurity?

Practicality overnight!?

Sus.

-"Reports on retiring from public life took the jet-set of Hollywood by storm."- He narrates on, the article, admittedly, being incredibly and annoyingly vague. Offering no real intel. Only suspicious amounts of formality. Followed by pictures of aggrieved fans circling the streets of LA in front of MGM studios strewn all over the glossy page. Maybe it was easier to disappear back then. No Internet. No Instagram. Nobody slipping into a celebrity's DMs. Just speculations and handwritten fanmail. Landline phones at best? He continues, practically out of breath, finding a quote. -"'Our goal is privacy and civilian integrity. Just that. We ask to be respected in our decision.' Beloved, as affectionately nicknamed by their fanbase, not wanting to give any statements had their acting manager explaining, having no further comments."-

Beloved? He supposed that was a stage name of sorts? Like Cardi B? Weird.

But that bit of dialogue by their manager ---

If that didn't stink, Demetri didn't know what did.

Not even extensive True Crime Google searches or sifting through Missing Person reports gave him more clarity than what they right right in this celebrity gossip magazine from, like...what? Thirty years ago? Forty? Man, his parents haven't even met back then. They were both still kids!

-"C'mon. It's just some ancient, unconfirmed conspiracy theory from back when the dinosaurs were still roaming the planet."- Hawk shrugs and Demetri turns the page, finding sudden epiphany. -"No, no! Listen to this, though!"- He perks up, tugging at Hawk's forearm, nearly jumping on the attic floorboard with the flashlight he was holding in his hand. Wasn't even dark. He was just doing it for the spooky vibes, to be honest. He found it! Found what he was looking for! Photographic evidence, receipts and all! -"Pictured with Corporate Business Moghul, Charity Entrepreneur and one of LA's most eligible Billionaire bachelors, Terrence Silver."- The description under an image says and how did he not find this online? Was this just conveniently fine-combed off of the web? -"The young starlet's colorful choice of date, deemed controversial by some still declared the most photogenic Red Carpet couple of '83."- There he was, Ponytail Sensei --- Sensei Targaryen --- eons younger, dark haired for contrast, looking like one of those shiny, perfect Ken dolls, hand in hand with the object of their research. They were a thing! Like, together-together. -"I knew it!"-

He holds up the tabloid, pointing at it vigorously, feeling victorious.

Gloating just a teeny, tiny bit.

It was The Valley's very own unsolved urban mystery!

-"You nerd."- Hawk laughs from where he was sitting, knees bent under him, chilling on the busted parquet that has definitely seen better days, still skeptical. Okay, alright. Demetri saw how it was. His amazing talents and privately investigative research in tandem were clearly not appreciated around here. That was his thanks then? -"Yeah, some asshole from the newspapers retiring like a million years ago and dating some Bond Villain who hasn't changed his hairstyle in decades. Spooky."- He shakes his head, wiggling around his fingers and pursing his lips for emphasis, clearly unimpressed, taunting him, making fun of the whole concept, about to get up and climb down from the attic and just about ditch him. Call quits on this whole project. -"You and your head in the clouds, I swear."-

A realization hits Demetri like a train at full speed.

-"What if he like, you know, went all Fatal Attraction?"- He grabs Hawk by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks, whispering like the walls suddenly grew ears. -"What if, there was a kidnapping involved and he scooped them up, got his Doctor Evil scheming and Scrooge McDuck connections to erase all traces of them and has been keeping them in some crazy mastermind lair all these years? You know, like a hostage? Made it seem like it was just some out of the blue retirement?"- Demetri lets it all pour out, without filter, saying exactly what he was thinking no matter how insane it sounded and it kind of did sound insane, admittedly; feeling himself fall into a frenzy of rambling regardless, all his long weeks of thinking and thinking, trying to figure the mystery out and it all so suddenly made sense. Cobra Kai's current new Sensei, no matter how surface level nice he seemed, had more than one skeleton in the closet and this was one of them. But, if that was the case, just how powerful was this guy? The frozen intensity in Hawk's eyes matches his in the darkness of the attic illuminated only by their flashlight and for a second, Demetri thinks he's believed and then --- Hawk snorts loudly. Then he chortles to top it all off, grabbing him by the shoulder, startling him. Very funny. Hilarious.

-"Yeah, wow, okay, I don't believe that. Nobody can pull that off."-

He pats him on the back, leading him downstairs.

[echoxxx3000]

Name: Mark Telcher

Age: Same as Reginald

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Skills: Hacking/technical genius, stealth, and can also use a pistol semi-efficiently

Looks: Long black hair usually up in a messy bun or loose ponytail, heterochromia eyes (left one blue, right one green), rather pale skin (He doesn’t leave his lab much), freckles on his cheeks and nose

Wears: White lab coat and yellow gloves (When working), sweaters and jackets of many kinds, light blue jeans, brown shoes (Though he can be found wearing pink rabbit slippers at times), a black toppat with a pair of silver goggles on them

Likes: Technology, cats, Reginald and his Right Hand Man (RHM), board games, being alone, knitting, cooking, rock music, dancing, reading, making things, sweet foods

Dislikes: Bullies, the previous leader Terrence, large crowds, loud constant noises, spicy foods

Fears: Dogs (He got attacked by one when he was nine), and being kicked from the Toppat Clan.

Flaws: Mark is a workaholic and addicted to caffeine, not a good combination.

Backstory: Mark was born on the streets of  big city, his father gambled and his mother was a drug and alcohol user. They never actually wanted him, and  used him to pickpocket people as soon as he was old enough. One day, a Toppat member was undercover in the city and Mark tried to steal from him when he was six. He ended up getting caught and his parents ran away when they realized this, abandoning him in the process. The man who caught him ended up taking him back to the airship and taking Mark under his wing, raising him into the clan. As he got older, he went from a maintenance man to the head scientist in the clan. The man who took him in ended up dying when he was in his twenties due to a raid gone wrong when Terrence was still in power, so he readily helped Reginald overthrow him.

Other: Mark own a while ragdoll cat he managed to smuggle into the airship that he names Muffin.

[creepiecreator]

Debating on writing some Ponytail/Terry Silver fanfiction

I'd have to figure out a supposed 'death' that Ponytail to survive though. What are your thoughts?

[creepiecreator]

I got this dang au of ponytail being like a ghost or zombie or skeleton either one probably zombie and gets on one knee and kissed terry hand 👀 could be any version of terry but I was thinking of it be old man terry which flashes to 80s terry which flashes finally to twig and terry just stand there stunned but with that adorable twig smile

I..may have gone off course some with this, it isn't your exact request but it's still decent I'd say- If ya want I'll have to write a different fanfic that completely matches

------

It had been such a long time since his service in the army. Terry had done his best to put his past behind him. He built up his company, his legacy forever intertwined with it, quickly becoming one of the richest men in California, then the country, and then the world. He knew he was well off and would be happy to flaunt it, happy to take a variety of men and women into his bed, happy to do as he wished, when he wished, but around this time of year… He would admit, he let his past affect him more than it should. He didn’t wish to be bothered by his past any, but.he had to admit. If any of his past affected him, it had to be the day that he lost Ponytail. The day he had been captured.  It was when that time of year rolled around, that he had no choice in letting himself be affected by it. Where he let himself think about how he had never been allowed to say goodbye, about how he had lost the person who he had cared about most.hell. He had to admit, he was pretty sure Kreese cared about Ponytail the most out of the two of them too. He had been a well-loved member of their trio, and without him things had never felt quite complete. 

Terry placed his empty glass of whiskey down onto the side table, running a hand through his loose hair with a blank expression on his face as he stood up, walking back towards his bedroom. He hated this. Hated these quiet moments where he had nothing else to do, had no one else to be with besides his own thoughts.which was why he kept his own little secret way to quiet those thoughts. He headed into the extravagant room, exchanging a sweater and dress pants for a much more comfortable set of silk pajamas before he sat down on his bed, grabbing an unmarked pill bottle and taking a single dose, dry before laying down, a quiet sigh leaving him as the tall man tried to get settled, eventually drifting off to an uneasy sleep. 

The panic seared through his bones, heart thundering in his chest as he was tossed into the middle of their mission once more, struggling to keep his limbs from trembling and doing his best to just do as he was told, to follow orders and to keep moving, keeping his head low as they waited for Ponytail to rejoin them. He knew what would happen, but there was nothing he could do about it as the radio interference sounded off, alerting the enemies to their locations. All he could do was freeze up and watch as they were surrounded, as guns were pointed at their heads, as his closest friend looked to their captain, to Kreese and to Silver with such fear in his eyes before he was nothing more than a corpse lying on the grass, his head blown to smithereens, blood, brain matter and bits of skull covering the grass by their feet. His internal voice screaming at himself to do something, yet his body never did. He was unable to do a single thing as the gun was jabbed in between his shoulder blades, forcing him to start moving, unable to even say goodbye to him.

Terry startled awake with a sharp gasp, fists curled into his bedsheets, trying to get himself to calm down. Fuck. Fuck. His heart was pounding in his chest, it felt like it would pop right out of his chest. A voice spoke out from beside him.  “Did ya have a nightmare, Twiggy?”

Oh. Oh. that voice. He knew that voice so well. He had wanted to hear it again so many times…hell, he knew for a fact that he would have killed to hear it again too. He was so scared to risk looking over and see no one there, so instead he stared at the bedsheets below. “Ponytail?”

“That's my name, don’t wear it out,” What a stupid, cheesy joke. Of course he would say something like that. “Hey, Twig, C’mon…” a hand reached out to rest on his shoulder. “Look at me, okay? It’s alright, I’m here…” The voice was so soft, so encouraging.and he really wanted to give in and look over to him. But there was a problem. “No.” His own voice was uncharacteristically soft, unsure even. “I can’t I- I know you’re not really there. I don’t want to look over and have you disappear or- or worse-”

“Oh, Terry…” It was funny. He used to hate being called Twig. But being called Terry felt so incredibly unnatural now too. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. “Don’t call me that. It's weird coming from you.” he stated, it sounded like it was the first thing he was sure of all night, and truth be told, it was. “Funny, you spent so long hating it when I called you Twig before,” the tone was joking now.  “But. Alright. I can go back to that…feels weird calling you anything else anyway ya know. Even if you aren’t so twig-like anymore,” The bed shifted slightly as someone sat down next to him. “C’mon, man. I won’t disappear. You know you can trust me.”

That’s true. He knew he could trust him. But he was just so scared. It was like the powerful business tycoon he had become simply vanished, only leaving a scared little Twig in his place. “Fine. But if you disappear on me, I won’t forgive you.” He warned quietly, looking over to see an all too familiar face. Ponytail in all of his glory, hair still tied back, still clad in his army standard uniform, sitting down on Terry’s bed. He seemed so perfectly normal. To the point where Terry was willing to overlook the little details, like how his muddy shoes weren’t affecting the bed or floor at all, or how, at certain angles, he seemed to appear almost see through.

“See? I’m still here,” Ponytail grinned over to him. “And now that ya know I’m not going anywhere…how about telling me about that nightmare of yours huh?” He suggested. “Talking about it is supposed to help after all.” Goddammit. Ponytail was right, unfortunately for Terry, the goofball of a man had always been right about more things than they all thought. And yet, he still hesitated, glancing briefly back to the blankets before back to the other man. “... It was about you. About…about how you died.”

“Oh,” Now it seemed to be Ponytail’s turn to pause. But it most certainly didn’t last for long, considering how he heard the other speak again only a moment after.  “You know it wasn’t your fault right…?” He murmured, his jovial tone dropping to that of a more concerned friend. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault really. Except maybe that stupid radios… But that’s beside the point I think. I never blamed you or anyone else for what happened. War’s a bitch, and men die. Those are simple facts of life.” 

“I know I just.. There should have been something we could have done.” He insisted. “You did so much for us just to die like that? That isn’t fair,” Of course. He knew that life wasn’t fair. He knew that war especially wasn’t fair. In a way, he sounded like a petulant child, complaining of the outcome of a game, instead of a man mourning a life lost due to war. Or at least, that was how Terry thought he came off. Judging by Ponytail’s pitying look, he didn’t really agree.

“That’s how life can be, Twig.” He knew that. Of course, he knew that. He had seen how life could be unfair. And hell, he had even made it more unfair, tipping the scales in his own direction as much as possible. Ponytail stood up from the bed, circling around to sit by the other man’s side properly. “Life is cruel, but… I promise I’m okay now,” he soothed quietly. “And you will be too, maybe not now, but you’ll get there,” Terry watched as Ponytail took his hand, his touch cold, but solid. He had to genuinely be there right? This wasn’t just a hallucination if he was doing this. “But what if I don’t? What if I’m just…stuck like this, stuck in the past forever?” Lord, Terry couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He knew he was a man focused on the past, but. Could he move on from it? Could he get the help that was needed to start the process of healing? Hell. Did he even want to move on?

“You will.” Ponytail gave the other a slight smile, raising his hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on his knuckles, seemingly out of nowhere. Terry’s face lit up a deep shade of red as the other spoke again. “I promise, you will. It just takes time…now. C’mon. Lay back down. I’ll be here for as long as I can, I promise.” The other let go of his hand, rolling back over to the opposite side of the bed, patting the mattress next to him and staring at him expectantly until he gave in, laying back down beside him, never able to tear his eyes away. “I…why did you.?” Anddd there was a finger pressed against his face.

“Sh. Don’t question it, Twiggy… Just know I wanted to do that for a really long time now, okay?” He insisted, moving his hand back. “Besides… I know you definitely didn’t mind it. You seemed to like me plenty when I was still…y’know. Alive after all.”

Wait.

“You *knew*?” Terry was sitting up slightly again, face flushed out of pure embarrassment. He had thought he had done such a good job at hiding his crush from the other soldier too. “Twig, I’m pretty sure you were so obvious even Johnny knew. We just never said anything.” He shrugged. “Honestly. It’s not a big deal.” He reached out, wrapping a hand around Terry’s arm to pull him back down onto the bed. “Try not to think about it much, okay? It’s the past. Nothing can be done about any of it now.”

Once again, Ponytail was painfully right. But he was pretty sure that sleep wouldn’t come easily now.  He huffed quietly, turning over onto his side as he pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. “You’re a jackass… You could have mentioned something to me.” He insisted quietly, earning himself a simple laugh in response. “…. You said you would be here as long as you could right?”

“That's right. I did say that,” He confirmed with a tiny nod of his head. “I’ll be here as long as I can.” That way, if the other woke up again in the middle of the night, Ponytail could still be there for him. “Good. I’ll be holding you to that.” He warned, though he was still reluctant to actually go to bed, doing his best to relax.

“I expect nothing less coming from you. Just.try to get some sleep okay? You still need it, unlike me.” Ponytail chuckled at his own statement. “I know you must be tired. It’s late as hell, and you’re constantly all ‘go go go’ nowadays aren’t you?” A rhetorical question. Ponytail knew he was right. Terry simply groaned in response, not wanting to give a proper answer, but still trying to find one anyway.

“This is the first time I’ve been able to speak to you in over a decade. So pardon me if I don’t want this to end.” Sarcasm crept into his voice, though he wasn’t genuinely upset at the suggestion of sleep. Hell. He was tired too. Nightmares definitely took a lot out of him, and he did have to wake up early as well. “Shut it, Twiggy. I love ya but we both know you need to get your sleep. And don’t argue with me on this either, we both know it isn’t gonna do you any good.” Oh, now that was true. Terry could absolutely remember the arguments they had. Ponytail had this almost Bugs Bunny-esque way of twisting arguments around so that you’d agree with him. Or at least that was the way Kreese had explained it, considering that, at the time Terry barely knew of that cartoon rabbit.

“Dammit…fine.” Terry relented to the shorter man. “I will *try*. But I promise nothing.” How could he sleep easily when his long deceased crush was just right there, across the bed from him? He did his best to get comfortable, closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Ponytail,” He murmured, doing his best to force himself to sleep, which, surprisingly, wasn’t actually too difficult. And the last thing he heard, as he drifted off, was the other oh so quietly returning the statement, alongside the feeling of a gentle hand messing with his hair. 

As sunlight peeked through the velvet curtains of his bedroom the next morning, Terry tossed an arm over his eyes, trying to just get a few extra minutes of precious sleep. But it seemed that that was one treasure he would be denied. He let out a low groan, forcing himself to sit up in his bed. “Good morning Pon-” Oh. As he glanced over to the space the other man had occupied last night, he could see it was painfully empty, every little thing perfectly in place, as if Ponytail had never been there at all. His heart felt heavy in his chest as he pushed himself to stand, knowing looking for the other would be fruitless. He was gone again…for all he knew, everything that had happened the night before could have been nothing but another dream.

Terry went through his normal routine to get ready for the day, stepping out of the master bathroom dressed to the nines-as usual. Though he wasn’t quite feeling himself, straightening his suit jacket as one of the staff members came to get him for his morning meetings, quickly moving to follow them out to attend to his work schedule, completely unaware of the old, worn hair tie still lying on the side table from the night before.

[creepiecreator]

Do you have any silvertail hcs I love them so much 👀

Oh boy, do I!

-At first Ponytail absolutely judged him for being a rich boy who could have bought his way out of the draft but didn’t, he assumed the other was just there for a family tradition or for good old glory. Once he got to know him he realized that he was forced into it by his parents, and genuinely became close with him, and they became fast friends. -I like to think that Twig absolutely fell for him first. After all, Ponytail is strong, mischievous guy who absolutely saved his life almost as many times as Kreese did. Considering Terry’s personality of being extremely devoted, I bet that was still there even in his army days. He depends on Ponytail, Ponytail depends on him, he needs Ponytail, and needs Ponytail to need him as well. -In cases of canon, where Ponytail does still die, I like to think that plays into him trying to take aspects of the other, such as his signature hairstyle, and trying to emulate his personality with his own twist. He loved Ponytail, but he couldn’t have him due to the others death, so he wanted to become him, his own twisted way of still maintaining the others presence in his life, In cases of my fanon, where Ponytail was together with Laura and survives vietnam, his reason for modifying his personality and his appearance is because even though Ponytail is still alive he still can’t have him. -But. Perhaps things turn out happier for him? Perhaps Laura can’t deal with Seth’s PTSD once he returns from war, or perhaps he returns physically disabled and can’t handle things the way he used to, so he ends up turning to Terry for help. Perhaps they help each other through things, and Seth somewhat keeps him in a slightly healthier state of mind, and they truly depend on each other and need each other the exact way that Terry wanted. In cases like that, I like to think that they become remarkably co dependant due to their mental health struggles. No matter what though, Ponytail at least attempts to be there for his son constantly, and I bet you Terry spoils Johnny constantly to try to make sure the kid likes him, Both because he wants the kid to like him since he’s interested in his father, and because it helps his appearances. I bet he does become genuinely attached as well.

I’ll be sure to write a ton more soon about them! I love writing for these guys! And I’ll work on all my other requests soon too! I’ve had major writers block lately.

[terrence-silver]

What do you think Terry would name his children with Beloved?

Has at least one son named John, regardless of whether he's currently having bad blood with John or not --- and if they're good and close, then it is a direct homage to his Captain and Terry is very upfront and adamant about it because there's no individual he'd rather name his offspring after in the whole wide world --- quite literally a 'you're named after the greatest man I know' moment and this stands true even during those 30. years were John is absent from Terry's life and comes with bittersweet sentiments all while being a name frequent and general enough to where he can brush it off as something without meaning and hide the truth of how much it actually means to him. But, John, yeah. If the original John isn't in his corner, then his son with the exact same namesake will be, because he will be raised and taught to be in his corner, and Terry vicariously lives through that act of control.

Terrence Junior? Undoubtedly, at least one of his kids is named after himself, because of course they are. As someone prone and hellbent on legacy, there's no better way to continue it but by directly naming the next generation after oneself and create, quite literally, another Terry Silver, in his own image, decades down the line to give his enemies pause. It is a symbolic way for Terry to prolong himself in the future, way after he's gone, the way he sees it and handing over his life's work, his ideals and everything he's built to another him. Might even go somewhat avant-garde and combine things in a slightly eccentric, typically Hollywood way and name his child Terryjohn. Written together, yes. Maybe apart, as a middle and first name; Terry John Silver, for a more conventional spin. What better way to connect and entwine meaning, gratefulness, devotion and immortalize it in one's own flesh and blood.

If a Terrence Junior exists, then for girls, whatever beloved's name is, or overall, depending of beloved's gender, one of their children gets named after beloved too, because Terry is just as likely to be fixated on beloved existing through their namesake in the future as well because that's his person --- they belong to him ---and as such, they're inherently worthy of having his children named after them. What he wants, he gets, after all. A Terry Silver Junior and beloved's name in equal measure gets attached to a Junior. It is almost like he and his partner will be out there, continuing to exist (and be indomitable, the way he likes to see it) in the years to come and something about that fact tickles a certain satisfaction and sense of rightful permanency inside of him. A love this grand, he thinks, shouldn't end with just him and beloved and should continue through devotion between siblings.

What was Ponytail's real name? Guess we'll never know. But, Terry is likely to name his kid after him. Maybe he realizes it. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe how cognizant or how cognizant he wants to be about this choice varies; Which is a debate of it's own sort entirely. But, it is cathartic, regardless, as well as painful and triggering. Ponytail got to ''come home'' and live through Terry who usurped his identity, becoming him in ways, and now, taking it a step further, he gets to be reborn too through Terry's own marrow. Not that Terry Silver necessarily subscribes to reincarnation in the classical sense. He's far too logical for that, he thinks. But, it feels like making up for the past and dealing with the guilt of a survivor, alongside a barrage of trauma is far closer in conclusion than literal rebirth. The whole point that the name hurts is meaningful and serves as a test too; something Terry wants to learn and train himself to endure as an act of self-control.