Terry - Blog Posts

Little reminder, this is canonly how they sleep :)

Terry moodboard

Requested by: @kyleiskoool

x x x x x x x x x

I fucking breathe for this typa content.

Bistro Huddy as text posts hihi

Pt 1/?

@kyleiskoool somebody put me in a straitjacket.

ain't none of my business what you do after hours....

i love terry so fuckign much i wish rednecks were real

Same Harold, same

pls dont jump me for not drawing clint's sleeves i was sleep deprived and forgot to do them

I’d just like to say I am happy to be here with my family. My super weird family with two black dads, and two Latina daughters, and two white sons, and Gina.

Terry taking care of the Pupa

2/2 What if we fuck it all up?

(The way this took an eternity to draw oh my god hcndnxnd)

1/2 What if we fuck it all up?

(I tagged it properly so if it makes anyone uncomfortable they can block the tag!)

Uses the preg-ray on you pew pew

SOLAR OPPOSITES S4 SPOILERS

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GUYS OH MY GOD

The hands 😖

I’ve fallen in love with Candy Candy all over again...

I need to draw more and better pictures of the show. It means too much not to, and I’ve finally got a bit of a hang of how I wanna portray the characters.

With how awesome s6 of tdp was I decided to draw my fav character in a sweater. He and Claudia have been on the run for quite some time and deserve to be cozy. 💚

Maybe I should make one of Claudia as well 🤔

(Reference by @albanenechi)

*hands you more fanart*

I keep forgetting that I can post stuff on tumblr, but uuu hesrs some solar opposites art because gay people

aterryboot·:

“She had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, I’m assuming they know she isn’t on their side,” Terry offered. He felt really bad that he was the one having to tell Penelope about all of this, she was a good person she didn’t deserve to find out this way. On the flip side, Padma didn’t deserve to be taken either even though the details on her being missing were still unclear. There was no proof that she was taken just a simultaneous event and an assumption. Along with that also came no reason on why Padma specifically.

It could have just been she was in the right place at the right time but Terry had no idea. He was even more out of the loop since he hadn’t decided to join the New Order, his parents still sending him constant letters almost as if a reminder of what they’d said to him. He really didn’t know what the right choice was. “Anthony’s been pretty worried since then so he wants me to check in with him every so often. You might want to talk to him– um, he can probably update you better than I can.”

-----

Pen felt a familiar guilt creep up on her when Terry talked about the Battle of Hogwarts. She hadn’t been there, she hadn’t even been in the country. It was an unexpected extra pain in her chest that she tried to ignore. Padma was what was important here, not Penelope’s own failures. “Of course,” she said quietly, trying to reconcile all of this new information. “The Redeemers must have long memories.” 

“I’ll go talk to him, check in,” Penelope promised Terry. It had been years since Hogwarts, even longer since she was their Prefect, but it still made Pen warm with pride and fondness when she saw ‘her’ Ravenclaws, especially together. “I’m glad Anthony has you. Padma, too,” she said, before pausing, the words almost stuck in her throat. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked, before rephrasing, “At least, will you be safe?” 

aterryboot·:

“Yeah, I was just visiting Anthony. Making sure he was okay,” Terry told her though even he himself could hear the lie in his words. There was no need to really tell her the full story, that maybe if he checked in with his best friend once or twice a day he’d give up on the plan of locking him inside his house. That would probably just confuse and worry her though there was no way to avoid the bad news in answer to her question.

With a tired look, Terry tried to make his next words come out softer. It was already bad enough that she hadn’t heard and he’d have to tell her, and he didn’t want her to freak out if she could help it. “Oh um, you haven’t heard? The night at the celebration… she was taken.”

-----

Was there something wrong with Anthony? This conversation with Terry was starting to feel decidedly ominous. Penelope felt her shoulders tensing, fingers clenching around the handle of her bag. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it was becoming very clear she had missed something big. 

Terry’s words sent a shock of ice down Pen’s spine. What? Taken; a word all too reminiscent of the last war. Penelope’s thoughts spun wildly in her head as she tried to reconcile the terror from only a few years ago with Padma, one of her Ravenclaws and a friend. “Taken?” Penelope whispered, almost to herself. “But, she’s a pureblood, why didn’t that protect her?” She had always mentally counted her pureblood friends as safe, and this revelation threatened to shake the uncertain footing she’d found again in the magical world. 

aterryboot·:

Terry had somehow managed to escape Anthony’s plan to lock him up inside of his house forever, rubbing one of his temples with his hand. He was taking the elevator down from Anthony’s office after checking in with his friend and letting him know it was safe. Now that he was alone he could finally digest everything that was happening. Michael and Padma, snatched up at the festival and now who knows where they were being kept. Terry sighed, the heavy weight of two friends being gone finally resting on his shoulders. No matter how much that he and Michael argued, Terry still cared about him and Padma was too nice of a person to deserve something like this.

He felt exhausted, and not to mention out of the loop since he wasn’t a part of the New Order. His parent’s words of warning were fresh in his mind from the amount fo times he’d gone over them, their warning to not ruin his father’s political career. 

It was then that Penelope came through the open elevator doors, the movement causing Terry to slowly look up. “It’s no problem,” he told her, shuffling to make plenty of room for her in the small space. In normal circumstances he might have tried to be friendlier, or given her a polite smile but now he couldn’t help the feeling of helplessness.

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Terry was one of the last people Pen would have expected to run into in a Ministry elevator, but she hadn’t seen him in ages, and if it took running into him in the middle of the night Penelope wouldn’t complain. Terry’s age group of Ravenclaws had a special place in her heart, her first group of first years when she was made a prefect in her fifth year. It was good to see him, even if frankly, he looked terrible. 

“Terry! What are you doing here, is everything okay?” she asked concernedly, knowing that no sane person should be in the Ministry at this hour. And he really did look out of sorts. But while she had him, “Have you seen Padma recently? She missed our lunch date earlier, but usually she sends a note when she’s caught up in a project.” 

I LOVE IT AND I WISHED IT WOULD BE CANON (because it makes so much sense and oh the power of Aaravos~) Thank you much for this comic! Your artsytle is so amazing I can only cry and love it forever Q_Q

Bro this is great, I love it

humanizing these two :O)

GUYS THESE TERRY PICS OMFG 

230521 Taehyun Weverse Post

Guess what series I started watching? LoL

I just wanted to play a little bit with their human designs 💚💙

I love seeing your name in my notifications, too, my friend. ♥️ I feel like I’m enjoying writing again after my break. More ideas without pressuring myself to write every day.

jasmine.

I actually wrote something new and long (for me). I was doing dishes when I got inspired. Please note this is explicit. So under 18s please shoo.

Bffs to lovers, fatphobia, plus size reader, mentions of alcohol, aspectrum!Billy, oral (f receiving), language, possessiveness, fem!reader.

1.2k+.

Tagging; @e-dubbc11 @terry2227 @kayhi808 @firexfate @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @thejanecampaign @danzer8705

Billy wasn’t watching his best friend discreetly, watching you laugh at that fuck boys joke as if he wasn’t trying to get into your pants, as if he could ever treat you like the treasure you were. Billy hadn’t wanted to go to the bar tonight. He wanted to be with you at home.

Was it too much to ask that you spend Friday night at his apartment watching the Witcher and drinking wine as you got progressively drunker, leaning into him making him feel all kinds of warm.

He wasn’t thinking of how you smelled of jasmine, and the warmth of your skin, and how he’d like to feel your thick thighs squeezing his face.

He shot, and the ball went into the hole, and Billy decided then he would have you.

He just had to get rid of Ryan.

You stepped into the unisex bathroom, wishing you’d just gone over to Billy’s tonight. You weren’t sure you could take another “make me a sandwich” joke. Or the way he kept trying to fondle you under the table like you were a piece of meat.

“Lucky I found ya, no one wants a fatty.” You’d shrunk when he said that, thinking of Billy.

Ryan had been eying a pretty redhead anyway, you weren’t stupid. He thought you were a charity case.

You looked up as you took a step into the bathroom. Ryan had the pretty young redhead pinned against the wall, aggressively making out with her.

He looked up at you, his face smeared with sparkly pink lip gloss and his hair mussed up, and she had her leg around his hip.

You walked out, heart aching.

You wandered over to Billy two hours later after glass after glass of wine at the bar, eyes downcast. “Hey, mouse.” He hummed, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pool stick in his hand.

You leaned against his side. “Can we go to your apartment and have wine, and play rummy?” You asked, nudging his side playfully, a giggle escaping.

Billy scoffed, eyebrows raising, “So you can cheat?” He said, downing his whiskey.

“Mhm. Then we can cuddle.” You said into his sweater, squeezing his hips. He smelled like vanilla, comforting and familiar.

“Is that what we do?” He husked, lips turning up, and eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Absolutely. You’re better than my teddy bear, Mr. Snuffles.” You tilted your head up at him, leaning on your tippy toes, kissing the corner of his mouth.

You didn’t need to tell him twice.

You dug through his pockets to his amusement as you both stood in the elevator. You were such a child.

But you found what you were looking for, a sweet caramel candy he always kept in his pockets.

“There’s a candy tax on that.” Billy said as you unwrapped it.

You looked up, eyes wide, pausing; “Tax?” You asked, leaning closer.

“Yeah. I need one kiss for that.” He said, straight faced.

You giggled, and leaned against him, kissing him, your mouth parted, tasting whiskey and nicotine.

His fingers slid into your hair, stealing your breath with the way he kissed you, like you were desirable.

When he pulled back you were both breathless. The elevator dinged and you pulled him out into the hallway, an ache between your thighs that threatened to set you on fire.

He set his keys down on the counter, turning the lights on in the penthouse.

“Billy?” You asked from behind him.

“Hmm?” He asked, turning to you, shrugging out of his coat.

“I want you.” You said, “I keep looking for you in other men, but I can’t find it.” You spoke in a rush, eyes not quite looking at him.

Billy paused, “You know I’ll give you anything you want, mouse.” His voice was low, warm even. “But I might not wanna give you back.”

Your eyes came to life, as you pulled him down for another kiss.

“Can I taste you?” You asked in between kisses, lying on his bed, his leg between your trembling thighs. You instinctively rubbed on him, trying to find some relief.

Billy hummed, “I’d rather eat you out, sweet pea.” He said, stroking your thighs, before flipping you over onto the bed, and caging you in against the pillows as you squeaked.

He hated being touched. He preferred to give rather than receive if it was with someone he cared about. Ever since Arthur, he’d hated touch. Sex with previous lovers had been a tool, but he’d hated it. He didn’t want it to be that way with you. You, who always got him a new stuffed animal every time you went to a department store. You, who always held his hand in your lap on car rides, playing with the silvery scars on his palm, feeding his need for casual intimacy that wasn’t sex.

“Lay back, imma take care of that needy cunt.” He teased you, eyes darkly inviting.

His dark eyes threatened to swallow you whole. You hoped someday he’d let you touch him, to taste him. But god, as he dragged your hips across the bed to devour you, you were sure he’d ruin you.

“Let me see what you taste like between my teeth, mouse,” he husked as you tried to pull your dress back down, laying in his silk sheets, drunk off his kisses and wine.

It brought back all the fantasies you’d had of Billy. Of the dark figure who forced your pleasure from you, who’d taunted you about enjoying your own ruination. You tangled your fingers in Billy’s dark hair, trembling as his beard scratched your thighs.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer, burying his face in your warm, wet heat. “Oh, god.” You mumbled, toes curling looking up into the lights that seemed all too much and too bright. You looked away.

“Yeah?” He husked, fingers teasing your slick folds, eyes dark like pits. The tip of his tongue teased you, making you whine. He laughed when you pushed his head back down, wrapping your thighs around his head.

You barely recognized your hitching gasps and moans as you rode his face, and he growled, “This pussy’s mine. No one gets to taste it but me.”

He looked up at you, face glistening with your arousal. “Isn’t that right, mouse?” He asked, voice dangerously soft. He let his teeth scrape your clit, and you saw stars, unable to stop the powerful climax that ripped through you.

He watched you doze in his arms, while he played with your hair, a longing in his chest that had threatened to consume him satisfied for now. A contentment stirring within him making him drowsy. His eyes were hooded, as he gazed at you with something he wasn’t ready to put a name to just yet.

He’d always wanted more, more, more. But you satisfied some part of him that had thirsted for love, a part he’d long denied himself, but your tenderness had him hooked on you, never having received that in foster care. His foster father in particular had been hard, often using a belt on Billy whenever he’d disappointed him.

He’d never liked being touched, especially after his sexual abuse, and sex had been his tool to get what he wanted from lovers. But not so with you. But still, he’d rather give to you than receive.

His eyes closed. You were his. He had something of his own.

Thank you, Terry! I really appreciate your friendship. You’ve always encouraged me. ♥️💜🩷

Thank you, Terry! I’ve missed writing. I don’t know often I’ll write, but I miss being creative. And I’ve missed you, too. 💜

—The Wolf.

—slightly canon!Billy, alluding to oral (f receiving), implied poly, alcohol, drunk reader.

—526 words.

—I haven’t written in a long time. I felt a little inspired, so I wrote. :) I’ll tag a few who might be interested. If you don’t see yourself tagged, it’s because I can’t remember my taglist, lol.

— @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @terry2227 @firexfate @danzer8705

You drowsily watched him work at his desk, leaning your chin down on your arms, feeling jittery. You probably shouldn’t have drank that wine with your antidepressants. “Sometimes I think Anvil is what you love the most. More’n me and Frankie.” You slurred, drunk from the wine he’d given you, and feeling like you’d stepped into a hot bath. The fire cracked in the background, light flickering in the dark room.

Billy leaned back in his chair, clicking his pen, dark eyes watching you. He reached across the desk, a finger curling around your hair. “It’s proof of how far I’ve come.” He said, voice low, making a fire burn deep in your belly. God, you wanted him. In every way, you wanted to devour him like the wolf in the woods.

“But Billy, we love you. Is it really worth everything?” You asked, taking another sip, sinking deeper into the chair, his answer wrapping around you;

“I loved my ma. Where did it get me?” His voice was sharp, as bared his teeth. A pin drop could be heard, and the wind blew outside, making you cold somehow despite the warmth of the fire.

“I could love you.” It was quiet, but he heard you as he pulled back, dark eyes like chips of onyx.

“It doesn’t matter if you love me. You’re mine.” The clock chimed midnight.

“And you’re mine and Frankie’s.” You said, shifting, the chair creaking underneath you. You remembered recently sharing a bed with Frank and Billy, nestled between them while they smoked. You felt an ache between your thighs even now, the smell of Billy’s cologne and nicotine.

Billy fidgeted with the pen, a frown between his eyes, and his lashes fanning over his cheekbones.

The room was dim, casting harsh shadows across his face. He dropped the pen and it rolled across the desk. He grabbed his glass of whiskey, Tennessee Honey, and finished it off. He looked at you over the glass. “There’s no such thing as fairytales. That shit is for the storybooks.”

“But maybe in the fairytale Red Riding Hood gets eaten, and she’s happy for it.” You said, wide eyed, and eager.

“And I’m the wolf, right?” He set the glass down, admiring how you pressed your thighs together under his hot gaze.

“Billy, who says you’re the wolf?” You said giggling, and he couldn’t tell if it was the wine. “I can eat you when you visit your mother in that home you keep her in. When you keep her—“

Billy clicked his tongue. “Careful. You’re clever and I like you, but my ma is off limits.” He said through his teeth.

“Oh, Mister Russo, won’t you keep me and Frankie locked up, too?” You continued, unruffled.

He closed his laptop, and stood up moving around the desk. He fisted your hair, “Alright, little bird. Let’s go to bed. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll eat that pussy.”

You laughed, standing up, running for the stairs, looking over your shoulder, beckoning him. Your hips swayed, taking the first step, and then laughed again racing up the stairs, Billy hot on your heels.

And hell on his.