Discover Top Posts Tagged with #the kidnapping

Matlock (TV Series) S8.E12 ’The Kidnapping: Part 1’ (1994) - Andy Griffith

I miss the original Matlock. For reasons.

Now, the gratuitous ass shot. 🍆💦💦

#andy griffith #Matlock #american actor #handsome daddy #the kidnapping #actor #husky daddy #daddy #screenshots #cilf #celebrities #suit & tie #silverfox #shirtless #tv series #warren frost

KarateKels Story Masterlist

Hi everyone! I’ve decided to (finally) get my act together and make a masterlist post for all the requests/stories I’ve done so far. I’m going first by character, then adding Dark Desires October and TIGmas posts for if you’re looking for a ~vibe~. Links that have a * indicate the presence of smut, for if you just want to get to the good stuff! 😉

(I'll be going through these posts and updating them slowly when I can't bring myself to write, so if you see anything that needs fixing or you want to suggest ways to make this... less of a clusterfuck, please feel free to let me know!)

---

We know that TIG can sing, and so can some of his characters. If pressed to sing, which songs would TIG characters choose?

---

― Twig, growing up as a rich boy with, if we read between the lines, draconic parentage with possibly high standards and rather perfectionistic attitudes in education, the only things a young Terry would sing is some kind of classic tune instructed by an onslaught of private tutors hired by his parents for the explicit purpose of training their son's voice or the Zemirot sang around the table during Shabbat, Jewish kid that he was. That's it for you. The first vestige of actual freedom and individual expression, came, perhaps, ironically, in the military, in the early 1960's, surrounded by soldiers from all classes and walks of life, everyone with their own flavor of music, songs and tunes of the decade and my god, if the high of that didn't hit a young Terry quick and hard to the degree it re-wired his brain chemistry, I don't know what else to tell you. Self-control and liberty gained, Twig, would, given the chance, sing or hum anything just because and he was pretty damn good at it too. Suppose when it was just him, John Kreese and Ponytail in the bunk all by themselves, a young Twig might merrily sing something while they conducted their chores together; moments of calm before the storm.

― Terry Silver in the 80's gives a mocking and taunting edge to everything he does because he's tough, he's powerful and he's at the top of his game and he's fairly shameless and despicable when he wants to be which means, around this era in his life man could do anything from busting into an operetta with expert proficiency, because if he does something it will be done perfectly or sing into a mic like he was born to sing into a mic, but will do neither seriously because there's veiled cynicism and an ulterior motive behind it. He's always laughing behind the eyes and yes, you're the joke. Imagine him singing We are The World during the height of a famine in Africa (Ethiopia 1983-85) he might've contributed to by having a major factor in the continent's pollution through Dynatox and trying very hard to seem very heartfelt and genuinely empathetic as he does it for a non-profit organization meant to help the poor (Look! He's helping!) or in equal measure, being at a black tie event fundraiser and singing some tune for (reads smear on hand) ah, yes, children in need. Either ways, the audience esthetically clapped and Mr. Silver gleefully ate up the praise being the center of attention like the big, smug snake he is.

― Old man Terry, if prompted to sing, simply wouldn't. He's past the point of singing, regardless of the fact he's a fierce, deep voice that's more than educated for it. Sure, there must've been a garden party or two where some rumbunctious guest must've prompted Mr. Silver charm all those gathered with a song or a tune on the piano but Terry might've responded with an equally charmed smile and had the obnoxious guest singing for him instead (as a very concealed punishment and veiled hazing ritual hidden beneath layers and layers of relaxed politeness) --- yes, who's to tell Emile, for example, didn't end up entertaining the whole party because Terry turned the tables around on him? Or god knows what sort of various humiliations he put Stingray through purely because he could and because it's awfully easy to imagine him saying 'Sing, Raymond.' as he pours himself a glass of Cognac, eases himself into the nearest armchair and has the buffoon shakily sing, for quite literally, his life. Nothing's for free, right? But, see, that's the point: Terry's convinced he's the earned the right sit back and be the overlord. Not that he ever doubted it. He's Grandmaster. He's Sensei. He's Sir. He's Mr. Silver. He's the Dragon. The dragon doesn't sing. The dragon rules. If he sings and plays it's because he wants to, mostly for himself.

---

― Terry McCain undoubtedly sings something Irish, to nobody's colossal surprise because everyone who even vaguely knows the man knows for a fact that this is his go-to choice of music each and every time; some folk tune from the old country passed down through many generations, until the person it originated from is long since forgotten in his family and all that remains is a memory of a memory and Terry's rendition of it, that is, for all intents and purposes, spectacularly good and catchy, especially when he follows up his own song with a tune he plays on a piano --- a thing culturally near and dear to him, and it's surprising with what gusto, passion and emotional charge he does it with, the same way, Catholic boy, born and raised that he is, it is not entirely shocking to find him being very apt and capable of delivering a church melody that could bring a parish choir member to absolute shame and in times like these it is abundantly clear that The Detective is awesomely multi-talented, and that if it wasn't for his career in law enforcement, one in music would've suited him just as well, if not better.

― Cash cannot be persuaded to sing because he doesn't care about the pursuit, finds it a waste of his time and quite frankly, he'd be most likely to glare if it's ever suggested to him --- the most he's willing to do is absent mindedly and very quietly hum some real or imaginary tune while he's waiting in ambush, tapping his gloved finger on the steering wheel, car parked a couple of blocks down as he carefully scopes out a target and patiently lays in wait for his cue, sipping on a cup of black instant coffee --- and even that only if his wait proves to be very, very long. His life is one of excess tension and it's quite literally no song (pun intended) nor is there any time for it and when there is, there's little place for yearning left. In fact, the man undoubtedly doesn't remember when was the last time he genuinely had time or the desire to switch on the radio and deliberately sit down and just listen to music for its own sake. But, if this man ever stalked someone? He's never likely to forget the music he's heard them listening to when they thought they're all alone. Undoubtedly, they're the very tunes he later absentmindedly hums.

― Gus Travis likes his sea shanties because his dream was quite simply put to buy a boat one day and sail out there, live off of the great, wide blue, but it's an ambition that never really came into fruition in the fullest sense, bogged down by the career criminal in's and out's of his dalliances on the wrong side of the law. It is what it is. Nevertheless, he enjoys the notion of a life at sea and everything involved in it, including the associated tunes, songs and music, not that he sings with any positive notion behind it, a full heart and joy either, more like, if Gus ever sang, he'd sing it almost mockingly, yo ho ho, while dangling a live victim upside down over a shark tank, mocking both the poor, unfortunate soul he's about to feed to the fishes down below and mocking himself, in a way, perhaps without even realizing it or wanting to admit that that's precisely what he's doing, because this is what his life has come to and everything he's ever wanted has been slipping further and further away from his fingers with each passing year or has, for the lack of a better word, gone to shit.

― Jan Valek is a medieval Bohemian clergyman, so, utilizing some form of logic, if he ever sang, it could be some old lullaby in Czech that lingers on the very edge of memory, sang to him by who knows who and who knows when, perhaps a mother, a kindly family member, someone from where he used to live when he was human and very young at that, long before he took his vows, or he'd sing some religious hymn in Latin in a voice that could freeze over the full moon with it's haunting beauty; a remnant of a bygone time when he was mortal and dedicated to the service of God, all association with music intricately tied to a more vulnerable time when he wasn't accursed and condemned, now, his song resembling a howl in the dead of night, a phantom's call slashing through the darkness, something chilling and gorgeous that is hard to explain, but certainly not entirely human. The type of thing you hear and you no longer belong entirely to yourself, falling under a vampire's spell, rather, you go out there, looking for the source of whatever it is you heard, mesmerized.

― Jack Blaylock, or rather, Timothy Calloway is All-American; irregardless of the fact that he lives in Japan, made his life in Japan, is embedded in the culture (and its Underworld) of Japan, operates out of Japan undercover with the facade of an Expat like any other, and hey, for all we know, he was born there too, which might make his attachment to all things American profoundly fascinating, no less the fact that if he sang, he'd not only sing something American, but something profoundly anachronistic and belonging to a bygone and nearly idealistic era he never even experienced himself, the same way he either never experienced his actual homeland or experienced it so little and so long ago, one can consider him remotely estranged from it (never say this to his face). So, knowing all of this, it is easy to envision Jack softly singing something by The Harptones, Bobby Darin or The Platters as he cleans his sword, produces his blades, checks his firearms with an immaculate attention to details, puts on a crisp, clean button up shirt, preparing for his next hitjob.

As soon as I saw Kara in episode 5 I got major flashbacks

#maws season 2 #maws #young justice #kara zor el #tara markov #even the brainwashing #the kidnapping #and i wish kara had gotten an accent

my "The Kidnapping" experience because i can't help playing all the new Chilla's Art games

this kills me because WHY DOES SHE LOOK LIKE THAT

they made me do MATH.

you can pet the cat. goty.

#chilla's art #chillas art #the kidnapping #chillas art games #video games #japanese horror #japanese horror game #you can pet the cat #the kidnapping chillas art

Every day I am grateful there is no FBI gimmick blog as I would be top of their most wanted list

#helping possess people while not being possessed #the cloning #the wars #the kidnapping #the zombie apocalypse #the ongoing attempt to take over the world #arson

Hey everyone! I'm still working on His Wants and Department Blues on Wattpad. My new job takes me out of town for most of the week so working on these fics has become sporadic. BUT, I just uploaded a new chapter to Department Blues, I am working on another chapter of His Wants. TIG... thank you for inspiring not only me but all these other amazing writers, you make our imaginations run wild with all the things we want to uh..... do with you 😅🥵🥵🥵 happy reading everyone! I am thinking about a storyline for Gus Travis (Black Point), that's a harsher TIG character, I am trying to navigate the ideas I have for that one.