#terrence hill

[orangegloom]

aging gunslinger: well son, i think you need someone to teach you how to be a man

terrence hill:

[yourwizardofaus]

Terrence Hill and Bud Spencer in the 1974 cult classic Watch Out, We're Mad.

[magicalflowerlight]

They call me trinity (1970)

[thierry1970]

[volvolts]

Ok but what if

[tev-the-random]

(Continuation of this!)

If he had to call the attack on Tumble Town anything, Sausage would call it ominous.

You see, the thing about living thousands of years and multiple lives is that you start to notice patterns in tragedy. So although most people said there was calm before the storm, he knew otherwise: there was always a bit of a dark sky in between, some sort of warning bell. And Sausage knew quite a lot about dark skies.

He was the first one to offer support as soon as he got the news. If not because his colourful empire greatly valued the terracotta trades, then because the Sheriff was a good friend. The man confided to Sausage — which means everybody everywhere was aware of it by noon — his strange encounter the previous night. The Red Light Bandit, as he’d taken to calling the suspect, definitely gave off the feeling that they were looking for more than a victimless inconvenience. They both knew this wasn't going to be a one-time thing.

Someone needed to keep an extra eye out, if anything. It was in the Guardian's nature to protect what was vulnerable, regardless of whether or not it made a chill run down his spine. He owed it to Tumble Town, after all. He should do right by it at least once.

Citizens of Sanctuary were quick to volunteer a hand once the message started circulating. Now, if there was one thing Sausage was sure of, it was that those who lived in Sanctuary — the refugees, the runaways, the lost souls and found families, — understood better than anyone what it was like to pick up the pieces of a broken home.  

Two days after the incident, Sausage showed up to the mesa with a whole group of volunteered help behind him. Truth be told, try as he might, the Guardian couldn't keep up with every single soul that came and went from the safe haven he'd created; he wasn’t, therefore, completely familiar with the entire bunch. There were one or two elves with whom he’d had friendly conversations over the years; an enderian who often humoured the thought of moving to Tumble Town, where the humidity was far more bearable than in the jungle; a couple of fae he had personally welcomed into their community after their forest burned down.

They were followed over the torn hills by four avian friends — no older than eighteen or so, from some country overseas, — a number of dwarves with a heavy accent from somewhere way up north and a few humans from all over the place. Sausage couldn’t say he knew any of them by name, but he made sure to keep track of them nonetheless.

“Alright, everybody! The Sheriff offered us some tools in this box here,” he announced, stepping out of the sheriff’s office with a heavy chest full of equipment. “There are a couple of spots that could use our help, I’m pretty sure everyone can find something they’re good at. If you need any guidance, just come looking for me and we’ll figure it out, right? Right, let’s get to it!”

Sausage’s enthusiasm was infectious, and his people promptly took the initiative. They scattered throughout the town to help break up debris, repair broken rooves, move animals, replace light sources and all the likes of manual labour. Seeing them work alongside the citizens of Tumble Town who had the condition to stay and rebuild, the various goblins carrying materials all around and even a few of Joel’s obedient subjects, Sausage was glad to conclude most of the group had no trouble fitting in. Some, however, seemed a bit more unsure.

One of the humans — or at least he thought that’s what they were; something seemed a little off about it, though he wasn’t quite sure what — caught his attention after a couple of minutes. They looked around with some sort of polite intrigue and a quiet demeanour Sausage assumed was related to shyness. Their nervousness spiked immediately once they noticed Sausage staring, and his approach didn’t seem to make it much better, despite his best intentions.

“Hey there!” He started with a smile that aimed to soothe. “Sorry, this is all a bit of a mess. I guess you haven’t found something to do yet?”

They stared at him as if he was about to bite their head off. Eventually, they nodded.

Sausage hummed. He scanned the wreckage of the town, eyes landing on the Sheriff — who was busy instructing his cheery avian quartet on something, — then following the jagged hills around them in search of vacant stations. His look then went back to the man in front of him, eyeing him up and down once. Although he had a thinner frame than Sausage’s own, he was still built like someone who was used to carrying lots of weight; his long blond hair, streaked with the occasional grey strands, resembled a very messy curtain, taking over his features like he had never his life bothered to brush it back. Still, the Guardian could tell the man had tired dark eyes that avoided his stare at all costs.

“Tell you what, you seem pretty strong,” Sausage concluded, nodding to himself. “I think you should join Vilde by the train tracks over there, if you can.”

Next to the tunnel that once led to the east side of Tumble Town, an elf chipped away at the boulders that blocked it. She was a tall and burly woman who Sausage knew to be quite amicable. It seemed like a good match to him.

He gave the man an encouraging pat on the back, which was returned in the form of a relieved smile. Rolling his shoulders and taking one of the pickaxes inside their equipment box, the stranger — Sausage realised a few seconds too late that he forgot to ask for a name, dang it! — walked away. He promptly received a warm greeting upon reaching the train tracks, which the Guardian was pretty satisfied to see.

After making sure everyone was well taken care of, Sausage set off to get his own work done. He did not spare a single thought to how often the dark gaze behind blond locks drifted his way.

-

They met again when the sun over the mesa got too hot for them to work. Tumble Town’s saloon was bustling with all the helpers that had come inside to escape the heat and rest for a while. Sausage, for one, had no trouble weaving his way across the crowd and towards the duo sitting by the bar.

Vilde, the sturdy elf, managed to pull some conversation out of the man she had been put to work with. His name was Terrence, she told; he came from a small ranch in a very far away land he refused to speak about, but which he referred to with some fondness.

“Aww, have you met Larisa yet?” Sausage interjected. “Xe’s Sanctuary’s best shepherd, I’m sure xe would love a helping hand with the animals!”

“Maybe,” Terrence replied, softspoken. His hair, no doubt an inconvenience, had since been braided back, but few strands still found a way to fall over his eyes. His face was littered with little scars. “I ain’t got much experience with sheep, but if Larisa needs help with cows, I’m pretty much a magnet for them.”

“I guess that makes you a cowboy,” Vilde chirped, a proud glint in her eyes as her new friend sighed with lighthearted disapproval.

The minutes ticked by, and as it often happens to him, Sausage wasn’t sure how they got to the topic they got. He had just finished a long-winded story about his and Joel’s complicated relationship — not sparing details about the other people with whom he had all sorts of “complicated relationships” — when he finally decided to take a breather. Much to his mildly horrified audience’s relief.

Almost as if on cue, a familiar flutter of wings made itself heard outside. The Guardian of Sanctuary turned around to find a certain teenager standing timidly by the entranceway. The brightest of grins immediately illuminated his face.

“Hermes, my boy!” He shouted, waving frenetically as if from across a field. “I’m right here, come on over!”

Anyone with even the slightest observational skills could tell that the last thing the boy wanted was to be perceived by the saloon full of people. They shrunk into themself as if hoping they could disappear if they just didn’t move. But they couldn’t really do much when both of their fathers were some of the most flamboyant people in all of the empires. Sausage remained regrettably unaware of it.

Vilde and Terrence watched with distinct forms of interest as Hermes won over his hesitation and approached his father, who promptly gave him a loving kiss on the cheek as a greeting.  He was still little for a demigod, and his soft appearance would have you think him no older than an early pre-teen.

“Oh, do you remember Vilde, Hermes?” Sausage questioned. “And this here is Terrence! He moved to Sanctuary a few weeks ago, isn’t that nice?”

The elf had met Sausage’s child a handful of times over the years she had lived in Sanctuary. Still not enough for them to return her smile with quite the same enthusiasm as her.

Terrence, on his part, tilted his head with thinly veiled curiosity. It was as if the boy had kickstarted a furious thought process that made for a very amused conclusion.

“So you’re that Hermes I’ve heard so much about.” Tipping an imaginary hat, he smiled at the teen. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

They nodded in what was almost a greeting. The two of them stared at each other for maybe a moment too long before Hermes was no longer able to hold eye contact.

“What are you doing here?” Sausage asked, oblivious.

Hermes vacillated, opening and closing their mouth a couple of times. In the end, they opted to speak with their hands.

“Dad left me in Sanctuary early. I couldn’t find you.”

“Oh? Oh god, I’m so sorry! You must have been waiting so long— I told Joel I was busy today!” Sausage voiced his frustration dramatically. He sighed, then eyed his child with concern. “Does Thunder Daddy know you left Sanctuary? Did you come here all on your own?”

The boy made a face.

“I’m not five anymore.”

“Aw, you’ll always be my baby boy, even if you’re a hundred years old!”

The Guardian captured his son in a tight embrace, earning a squawk from them. Vilde laughed into her glass of water, trying not to embarrass them further, while Terrence observed the scene with a mix of fondness, amusement and something a little deeper, but undecipherable.

-

In the end, Sausage left earlier than intended, only taking his time to report back to the Sheriff and make sure everyone who came with him was still well. The others stayed for an hour or two more before most of them started heading back to Sanctuary. Terrence, on the other hand, seemed hesitant to leave.

“I was thinking... maybe I should stay here for the night,” he said, a little sheepish. He and the extroverted elf who had so promptly adopted him as a friend stood outside, where a few people still mingled about after a day’s work. “I would really rather avoid having to take the tram back and forth everyday...”

“Oh, tell me about it.” The Sheriff chimed in. He sat on a chair at the front porch of the saloon, leaning back against the wall. “Those damn rails give me motion sickness for days. Why don’t people just walk places anymore?”

“We can go walking if you want to,” Vilde offered.

“I dunno. I don’t think we’d get there before dark.” He placed his hands on his hips and looked up at the sky, musing. “I don’t wanna keep you out too late. I mean,” the man eyed Vilde with an awkward smile. “You could probably crush a zombie’s head with your bare hands, no offence, but I’d still feel bad.”

The elf opened her mouth to protest, only to get  interrupted by the Sheriff.

“Pretty sure there’s room in the inn, if you want.” He knocked on the window behind him. “I know those people from Stratos are staying over. Considering you’re helping us fix the town and all that, I think the innkeep will be more than happy to have ya.”

Terrence let out a sigh of relief. He smiled gratefully, not quite meeting the Sheriff’s eyes.

“You’re sure you’re staying?” Vilde asked. He nodded. “Well... I’ll warn Sausage about it, then.” She gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and a grin. “Be seeing you tomorrow, Terry!”

The Sheriff watched him wave off the elf as she skipped away. When it was just the two of them left, they stood there, occasionally exchanging some idle conversation. The old man found that Terrence was quite the pleasant company, albeit a generally timid one, with an easy laughter and a witty mind. The man’s competent rancher stories were enough to keep him amused until the sun came down, by which time they decided to enter the saloon-inn.

He didn’t drink, though. After Terrence bid him good night and disappeared upstairs, the Sheriff kept an eye out for any signs of trouble outside. He hadn’t felt so restless in years, and it rubbed him in all sorts of wrong ways.

Little did he know that, later that evening, the timid blond man with streaks of grey hair and face littered with little scars would manage to sneak his way into the Mezalean house on the other side of the hills. The place, albeit more or less intact, had no signs of living other than a few recent footprints of red sand and some disturbed dust on the shelves. The Sheriff, for one, never bothered checking it out, which made it perfect for hiding things.

Terrence opened a chest to find a set of clothes he unceremoniously changed into. They smelled like gunpowder, and he — Jimmy, he reminded himself at the sight of the heart-shaped scar on his chest. His name is Jimmy — couldn’t possibly feel more comfortable in them.

As he stepped into the small hidden cave next to the building, he couldn’t help but stare at his own reflection on a near-dry puddle under the moonlight. A faint red tint in his otherwise dark eyes stared back at him. It was a wonder that no one seemed to pay attention to it all day long. Not that he was complaining: it felt like waltzing around memories that couldn’t quite look him in the eye anymore. It’s an empowering feeling, despite the rather pathetic persona he had chosen to play in front of them.

Inside of a hole in the wall of the cavern, concealed behind an inconspicuous stone block, a lantern of bright, pulsating red light called to him. He held it like a long lost friend.

They had business to attend to.

[thirst-for-boys]

[lea-andres]

Who would you say is your favorite minor character in your work (i.e. a Red Shirt or background character with less than 10 lines of dialogue)?

Terrence the Earthworm, Spiral Hill's Mud Farmer technically counts, because I'm pretty certain he's either had 3 or 4 lines of dialogue, but you could make the argument he doesn't count because he's A: my fiancé's character, and B: my fiancé wants him to do more things.

I think she had more than 10 lines of dialogue, so she probably doesn't count either, but little Pixie the Butterfly was fucking adorable. She pretty much exists purely because with my time gap between canon and my fics (6 years) none of the Sonic Fan Club kids were young enough for what I wanted in that scene. So I gave the butterfly that looks like Dot from Animaniacs a baby sister.

I'd also have to count how many lines of dialogue he had, but one of my idiot archaeology puppies Brutus the Bulldog appeared way back at the very beginning. My archaeology puppies were banished from my lore for being cringe, but @bitter-sweet-coffee has been encouraging me to bring them back. He might appear again (with his siblings!) At the very end... So he probably doesn't qualify too.

Here's one that probably qualifies: that poor bluebird or blue jay or whatever I said she was working in the coffee shop in the... Second chapter??? The one who watched Fang pour booze into his coffee right there at the counter after she handed it off to him and said nothing because she's probably not paid enough to deal with Fang's bullshit. If she had more than 10 lines to just serve as a means for the Hooligans to find out the Mineral Museum existed I'll be shocked. 😂

[windholm]

FANFIC VLOG #2: SPARROW, A BLACK PHONE REWRITE

Hello, wonderful strangers, very glad to know you

When I started publishing here on Tumblr, I started off with a huge (and I mean, huge) fanfiction project about The Black Phone (2022), but things eventually went a little out of hand: too many characters, too much lore and storylines... but especially, the more I wrote, the more distant it seemed from what I wanted. So let's start over, step by step.

This is actually just the first part of my project, which is a total rewrite of the movie, and it's called "Sparrow": first part is inspired by a fancomic by Bamboocarbon Ver 2.0 (you can find them here on Tumblr), and it revolves around Finney Blake's friendship with Robin Arellano (the boy having a crush on him...).

Basically I started writing this because they were the first characters I ever shipped in my life...

I named it Wonderwall after Oasis' song, which I think really fits the story I want to tell and the characters themselves, especially Finney, hence why I even used the same song inside the story itself. Every following part will be named after a song as well, and it's gonna delve much deeper in Finney and Gwen's past and powers, besides featuring an exceptional guest: miss Collins from Carrie (1976).

Also I'm currently planning a different ending for Terrence, the assh*le himself...

I don't know how long this will take, but I feel positive. Much more positive than I was as I was writing the previous version of this story... please feel free to let me know what you think, both positive and negative feedbacks/comments are very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy this, of course!

[b-rainlet]

I watch like 100 movies each year and yet my letterboxd watchlists staunchly remain at '1% watched'

[adrienneleclerc]

Just A Bunch of Hocus Pocus

Summary: What i believe your couples costume would be with the F1 Drivers

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: Drivers include Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz, Max Verstappen, and the newest addition of Daniel Ricciardo. Most of the costumes were my idea but when i was stumped, i used Chat GPT

Charles Leclerc: Since Charles loves Harry Potter, i believe you two would dress up as Harry and Ginny or dress up in Hogwarts "uniforms" in general with the robe, tie, and scarf of your house. Maybe you guys would be Lightning McQueen and Sally because you sent him so many memes comparing him to Lightning McQueen. I also see you guys being Mr. and Mrs. Smith because who wouldn't want to see Charles in a suit?

Lando Norris: You two would dress up as Spider-Man and MJ/Gwen Stacy, depending on which movie or character you prefer. Han Solo and Princess Leia are also on the table, along with Mario and Princess Peach, that way you and the whole Quadrant crew can dress up as character from Super Mario Bros.

Logan Sargeant: You and the American Boy will dress up as Captain America and Peggy Carter, no question about it. Also, you two could dress up as an athlete and a cheerleader since he is, as Alex puts it, so painfully American. But to make it even better, you guys would go as Nathan and Haley from One Tree Hill OR Troy and Gabriella because whats more American than High School Musical?

Oscar Piastri: You two would be Tinkerbell and Terrence after making him watch all the movies with you. Iron Man and Pepper Potts if he wanted to go the superhero route like Logan. But he would also agree to doing a group costume with your friends and going as Numbah 3 and 4 from Codename: Kids Next Door which was one of your favorite cartoons from when you were younger, mainly because Numbah 4 is Australian as well.

Lewis Hamilton: I believe you guys would go as Michael Jackson and Britney Spears from that live performance with the green sparkling dress OR the event photo where Michael was wearing a red shirt and Britney had the leather newsboy cap since Lewis is very fashion forward. The Mad Hatter and Alice is another good one because of how elaborate the Mad Hatter suits are, it would be perfect for Lewis. Also because of your (my) obsession with Criminal Minds, you guys could go as Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia because who wouldn't want to be his baby girl?

Carlos Sainz: El Matador, el matador!! You guys would go as el Zorro and Elena and would look so cute! Another is Jack Sparrow and Angelica Teach (Puss in Boots and Kitty Softpaws if you guys want to be a little silly). However, Carlos would absolutely lose it if you guys went as Seth Gecko and Santanico Pandemonium from the movie From Dusk Til Dawn.

Max Verstappen: After you find out that Max hasn't seen the Halloween MASTERPIECE that is Hocus Pocus, you make him watch it with you and you guys dress up as Winifred Sanderson (or Sarah) and Billy Butcherson. You would also dress up as Richard Gere and Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. I can also imagine you guys going as Hiccup and Astrid from How To Train Your Dragon so Max would be able to dress his cats as your respective dragons

Daniel Ricciardo: Hands down you guys will dress up as Woody and Bo Peep because the man LOVES to dress up as a cowboy. Barbie and Ken in their cowboy outfits is also a choice for your guys' costumes. I think he would love the idea of him being a cowboy and you as a saloon girl like in Westworld

The End

[violetwolfraven]

You know what maybe I’m just tired and feeling the existential dread of growing up, but actually my small, petty hill to die on is that I don’t think I will ever forgive Disney for abandoning the fairies franchise. I cannot even properly express what those movies were to me as a kid. They very well may have been my first hyperfixation. But come on beyond the sentimental value, those movies:

Encouraged kids to take an interest in nature and be nice to plants and animals.

Depicted a (mostly female) friend group that spent virtually every scene they had together onscreen building each other up and supporting each other.

Featured a female lead who is essentially a mechanical engineer, and is not treated as any less magical or important for it than her friends who can magically make flowers grow or bend light (except for the first movie wherein her feeling less magical and important is the central conflict).

Gave said female lead a “love interest,” I say in quotations because while they are definitely implied to have romantic feelings for each other, he is never called anything other than her best friend and the two of them ending up together is never treated as an urgent priority. Their friendship is incredibly important to both of them, but no one acts like it’s a problem that they’re just friends for now.

Redeemed the mean girl pretty damn successfully (in my opinion), Vidia never apologizes for most of her actions onscreen, but she does realize when she’s gone too far and makes an effort to fix her mistakes, and from that point on she is integrated into the friend group who, as I mentioned before, spend 90% of their screen time uplifting each other.

In The Lost Treasure, let Tink’s temper have consequences, a good lesson for kids in not taking their friends for granted and treating them kindly, but also teaching respect for boundaries and personal space through Terrence’s end.

In Secret of the Wings, demonstrated that sometimes rules are there for safety reasons, but you can try to think of a creative solution to do what you want while still keeping things safe for everyone.

In Legend of the Neverbeast (admittedly not the greatest movie in the series), depicted the fairies having to say goodbye to an animal companion permanently, something most kids will probably experience at some point.

Inspired a banger of an online game and several banger songs.

And what has Disney done with this franchise they spent 7 years on (longer if you count the books)?

Allowed a massive decline in quality on the last movie made (Legend of the Neverbeast) and then acted shocked when it didn’t do as well as the previous ones.

Cancelled all fairy projects after that.

Shut down the game in 2013.

Made a bunch of the songs from the soundtracks seemingly disappear off the face of the earth.

I know it doesn’t make the top 100 shitty things Disney has done, probably not even the top 1000, but I am still extremely salty about it, even though it’s been almost 10 years.

[sleepythug]

Horror movies to watch?

the black cat (edgar g. ulmer, 1934)

the hitcher (1986, robert harmon)

seance (2000, kiyoshi kurosawa)

psychic (1977, lucio fulci)

martin (1977, george a. romero)

splatter: naked blood (1996, hisayasu satō)

just before dawn (1981, jeff lieberman)

guinea pig: mermaid in the manhole (1988, hideshi hino)

the funhouse (1981, tobe hooper)

it's alive (1974, larry cohen)

the masque of the red death (1964, roger corman)

intruder (1989, scott spiegel)

blood rage (1987, john grissmer)

the prowler (1981, joseph zito)

the strangers: prey at night (2018, johannes roberts)

the empty man (2020, david prior)

spider baby (1966, jack hill)

the devil rides out (1968, terrence fisher)

two thousand maniacs (1964, herschell gordon lewis)

the night of the hunted (1980, jean rollin)

bloody muscle body builder from hell (1995, shinichi fukazawa)

evil dead trap (1988, toshiharu ikeda)

[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.

[jdeanmorgan]

disclaimer: this is just inspired by a chat I had with my mom recently where we named actors whose work we do/did enjoy but who we know are assholes/abusive pricks in real life.

I'm not condoning or making light of anything these men have done. i am simply asking a question. don't be a clown on this post, thanks.

[ozark-shaker]

BEAR GEOGRAPHY TIME WITH YUOR HOST BEEDWARD:

HENRY - Possibly from North Carolina. Was a member of the team "Goose Creek Bruins". There is a Goose Creek in NC.WENDELL - Tennessee. "There's a bruin they call Wendell, and he hails from Tennessee" TERRENCE - "Ozark Shaker" "Vibrating Wreck from Nashville Tech". Ambiguous, but likely from Tennessee. (Side note: Nashville Tech opened in 1970. CBJ opened in 1971. Make of that what you will.) ROMEO - Florida. "Miami Serenader" ERNEST - Florida. "Furry firestorm of fiddlin' Floridian fury" *** GOMER - Went to Juilliard in NYC. Possibly from New York or surrounding states. He "returned home to the hills" after the "lard of Juilliard" incident. SUN BONNETS - Most likely Texas. "They began singing in Public School 821 in Clint, Texas, in Miss Grizzly’s class." BIG AL - Idaho. "Big Albert says, "I was born in a cave near the Princess Theater in Pocatello, Idaho"." TEDDI BARRA - "Jewel of the Dakotas". Her bio states she was discovered in Arkansas. That's nowhere near the Dakotas! TRIXIE - "The Calgary Charmer, Alaska Allurer, Vancouver Vamp, Bewitcher of British Columbia, and Tacoma Temptress". Ambigious, however these locations are in or directly bordering Canada. 5 BEAR RUGS + OSCAR - Nothing explicity states their origins in original bios. A prop from the film hints at them being from Tennessee. (Zeke is canonically dead in the film, but it can be assumed he's also from TN)

*** EDIT: I'm a FOOL and completely forgot Ernest's origin is mentioned in the new show. Thanks for reminding me @jpd1944 !