#barratone

[volundarkvida]

I AM TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT MT'S NEW RELEASE. TOTALLY NORMAL.

[theboyofalltime]

Wishing that one episode where Count Duckula does his random mildly deep voice he just goes full on barratone. That’d be hilarious I think.

[bluebellhairpin]

Okay I JUST HEARD ABOUT THIS. But Peter Cullen (the guy who voices Optimus Prime in EVERYTHING) came up with that iconic, awesome voice because of what his brother said to him before he went to audition. His brother told him to not be like all the other loud, boom boom heroes. You know what he said?

"Be strong enough to be gentle."

AND SO NOW WE HAVE THIS DEEP, BARRATONE, MOTIVATING, ICONIC VOICE THAT IS OPTIMUS PRIME.

[wierdartistmarcell]

Crowley clearly revelled in his verbal sparring with the older Winchester, and betwixt them, the crossroads became a metaphorical battleground for Dean's conflicted desperation, and Crowley's sadistic delight in toying with the hunter's weakened resolve. The air practically crackled with the untamed, uncertain bond between the two. A highly reactive chemistry that could only end in one of two ways.

Dean grimaced as he watched the King of Hell's expression.

"You are enjoying this too much." He sneered, only for Crowley to step closer, his eyes gleamed with a cruel, sadistic glee at the opportunity to play with Dean's desperation to such a delicious degree.

His smirk widened at Dean's words.

"Oh, Squirrel, always the straightforward little businessman. Now, let's see... what do I want in exchange for returning you to your demonic state?" He tutted, clearly already knowing exactly what he wanted Dean'send of the deal to be. "Ah! How about...your most cherished memories? Copies only, of course. I'd love a peak into that soap opera mind of yours."

Dean's expression hardened at the mere thought of the invasive act. Exposing his innermost thoughts to the king of Hell himself, having his mind entered in a way he would be unable to control. But what he feared most, however, was the question that lingered upon his tongue.

"Why? What the hell would you want with my memories?"

Crowley grinned, and once again stepped closer. Dean could feel the hair on his arms and neck stand up, as the demon was so close, they were practically breathing the same air.

"It's just for some assurance, darling. They're for my eyes only, that is, as long as you don't try to double-cross me. Plus, you do fascinate me terribly. I wish to know what moments haunts you and what joys keep you going in spite of them." Crowley purred, his voice low, vibrating directly from his chest in the raspy, near barratone tone which made others throw themselves at his feet with fear or want, or at times both. Situation dependant.

Dean hesitated, trying his best to grapple with the idea of baring his memories like a surrendering wolf, baring their underbelly.

"Fine." Dean barked. "Copies of my memories. What else?"

Crowley smirked, eyes narrowed, and he looked up into Dean's face, head slightly cocked. The way he held himself practically removing the 4-inch height difference between the two.

"Clever boy. You know I want more out of the deal. But It's more abstract, what I want. I simply want your loyalty. I dont want you to be some lap dog or glorified assassin. I simply want you to keep doing what you are doing. But you will, when needed, be loyal to me. You will not be physically able to harm me. Nor give away any information that would directly bring me harm."

Dean scowled at that but nodded reluctantly.

"Deal. My innermost memories, and my loyalty."

The King of Hell chuckled as he revelled in the clear desperation in the human's voice.

"Ah, Dean. You do drive a hard bargain, but it's a deal. My dear, I must be honest, I was waiting for you to return to me with this request. To become a demon again. This was your inevitable future. You were always fated to be a powerful demon.

Dean gritted his teeth at that. But Crowley was right. He was a natural at being a demon.

But that was still such a terrible thought.

"Whatever," he sneered, unwilling to dwell on the thought. "You want my memories, Crowley? Fine. But I warn you. They're not pretty."

"Oh, I am certain that they are much prettier than you give them credit for."

"If you dare taking photos of the kiss, I will rip your balls off." Dean warned, remembering, with a shudder, the photo Crowley had taken during Bobby's deal.

"Oooh, kinky~ But there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. This isn't a normal deal. We don't have to seal it with a kiss. Sorry to disappoint, Squirrel."

Dean blinked and nodded. He was definitely not disappointed. Nope...

Not at all.

Crowley smiled and pressed his thumb to Dean's forhead. He concentrated, and the both of them entered a standing sleep, making it a lot easier for Crowley to enter Dean's dreams and, most importantly, all his memories.

Dean's mind was like an abyss of sin and agony. Most of his memories seemed to be blurred with alocholism and self-loathing. But Crowley was a persistent being, and he finally managed to pull a happy memory from the ocean of despair. The warmth it radiated made it clear that this was indeed a very happy memory. Crowley concentrated further and ebtered the memory.

He found himself standing on a stained, wooden floor, loud, yet unrecognizable music dulled the back of his mind as he spotted two people at a table.

It was him. Them. The two of them. Him and Dean, sitting in a pub, dressed in cowboy hats, and Dean was laughing at something Crowley had said.

How the Hell is this guy allowed to be this handsome. And funny as fuck as well?

The echoing voice that was Dean's memory bounced in Crowley's own mind.

This had Crowley taken aback slightly, before leaving that memory.

After a bit more searching, Crowley found and entered another memory, this one was burning. Like a bright star amonst the abyssal masses that made up the memory pit.

He entered the memory, and found himself in a place that was quiet, and tranquil, bathed with the very first rays of the morning sun through a window.

It was a motel room. Not just a motel room... the motel room. He looked to the bed, he knew that would be where the two of them were. And indeed. But to his delighted surprise, the memory took place at a time where he himself had been sleeping, but, it seemed Dean had been awake still. Dean didn't say, or think about anything with any substance. All the hunter did, was laying with his head on the memory-Crowley's chest, fingers threading gently through his dark chest hair.

Was that truly all which made Dean so happy? Did this somehow create such a radient memory? Just a quiet, domestic moment?

Well, he ought to look for more memories for his hypothesis.

Indeed...that was the only reason for why he reached out for more, searching for the happiest, oh-so deliciously human memories of the man.

But finally, he untangled his figurative tentacles from Dean's mind, and once more focused his gaze upon reality, blinking away the red smoke at the corner of his eyes.

"Well, well, Dean. I wasn't expecting a stroll down our shared memory lane." He said with a grin threatening on his mouth. "Not that I would complain. I am glad you cherish our summer affair as much as I."

Dean scowled as Crowley spoke. Why did the british asshole have to make everything sound dirty? Having his happiest memories from the last decade, the moments that had allowed him to forget the horrors of the world, the horrors of himself, looked at through such a perverse lense. It sullied them.

"Yeah, yeah, real cosy times. Happy now?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Excstatic, darling. I must say, our little adventure sure seems to occupy a special place in that hunter heart of yours. You sure know how to make a girl swoon." Crowley teased.

Dean grumbled under his breath, having realized that Crowley was revelling in his new-found leverage.

Dean looked at him, frustration evident in his entie being.

"Get the fuck on with it." He sneered, whilst Crowley simply stood there, hands in his coat pockets, savouring the satisfaction which Dean's discomfort brought him. He leaned in closer, eyes half-lidded.

"Oh, I intend to, Dean." He purred.

As Crowley extracted the copies of Dean's memories, the crossroads echoed with the laughter and banter of of their unconventional partnership.

The two men looked at eachother, as their ongoing wardance on the crossroad battlefield seemed to slow in its rythm, as the silvery essence of the memories entered one of the rings on Crowley's hand.

Dean took a step closer, as he inhaled a deep breath. Frustration and defiance radiated off of him. He surprised the both of them as he grabbed the back of Crowley's neck, his fingers sliding between short strands of black hair.

"I don't trust you, Crowley." He hissed, making their eyes meet. "Seal the damned deal." His voice was heavy with something neither of the men were willing to acknowledge, before Dean, without another word, grabbed the front of Crowley's black coat with his free hand, and pressed their lips together in a heated kiss. A collision of conflicting emotions - desperation, defiance, and, though both once again ignored it, something deeper.

Crowley had initially been taken aback. But fuelled by the nostalgia of the memory lane, he soon responded with equal fervor, his arms wrapped around Dean's waist.

Though the crossroad was used to the infernal contracts which were sealed upon it frequently. The intensity of the moment between the two had it figuratively shudder.

As they broke apart, Dean's breath heavy, the charged energy still lingered in the air surrounding them.

"There. You can't weasel yourself out of your part of the deal. Now, do what you need to do." Dean said, lips swollen and pulled into a sneer.

Crowley wore an amused yet intrigued expression as he nodded, his smug expression hiding any hints of the unexpected kiss having affected him at all.

"If you wanted a kiss, you had only to ask, loverboy." He teased, his hands still resting on Dean's waist.

Their gaze lingered on each other as the intensity of the kiss faded into the night, leaving Dean to long for the hellfire heat, which always radiated slightly from Crowley's vessel. before Crowley stepped back. A triumphant expression formed on his lips. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, a small, black box appearing in his palm.

"The full transformation will not be immediate, but within the month, you will reach complete conversion." He said, opening the box. Within it was a vial that contained a small, black swirl of smoke.

"Is that part of a demon?" Dean asked, looking at the thumb-sized crystal vial.

"Yes." Crowley smirked. "Part of your demon soul." He smirked, uncorking the vial, allowing the demonic soul fragment return to Dean. "I trapped it before you betrayed me. This will graft itself to you and corrupt the rest of your soul."

The dark smoke made its way down Dean's throath and grafted itself over his heart.

"There you have it, Dean. Welcome back to the fold. Your new life is about to begin."

[the-firebird69]

WDM Calliope May 2013

and the clans started it yes and frm the steamboats.  and used many whisltes to signal.  and then made this insruement as tons liked the sound.  and then it appeared at th circusl tons of them.  this one not so much.  but smaller ones and more pipes about 70.  and are fun but ok it crashed to the ground...and it is this type no.  they do mean on ships and spaceships and they are oddly correct it was what the first ships used. but now they sund like this on occasion.  and when it crasehd to the ground ok...

https://youtu.be/8eX1tH2mNqw?si=FxrGqlhV_YnwSvIk

Manfred means man of security and peace.  

and it goes like this he says well i sorta get it.  and we see.  the ship crashed and was the stone ship. the singer dave aka jc.  and the band his clan true.  and they are talking about characters here.  little whirly birdy is terry c and the chopper from mad  max.  go cart mozart would be our son nope it is the one who does it and tht is megan merkle hubby.  and are famous.  and with him for helping poossibly save him.  and got it from the computer.  helped him no was after him.  mean did not get it.  ouir son the teenage diplomat nope...that is mac yes and the son is our son.  and he says well momma that is wher the fun is.  and to help him.

its the good stuff how dave a spoke.  

and the song goes on. sings and then crashes the ship that is.  and a brimstone barratone tommy f. made him laugh ok get it yes.  two guys watch the people fight will and bill.  and it is the ship.  and crashed.   trump the madman called it no talks out loud......and the ship..ok and which.  it is the one in the east.  it is there and in memphis where teh river boat is.  and says it we need him.  and for a lot more than a computer and it works he says.  

and full of code but wamo makes sense as  jesus singing it.  tons see it

Thor Freya

and sings about me good.said it then too and laughed he heps has to

i h ope he is right but wow this is didscovery

hs him mb and i see

 it

kamilla

we rock now

Olympus

[entomoblog]

Météo : pourquoi la pluie tombée ces dernières semaines en France n'est pas forcément une bonne nouvelle pour nos jardins

See on Scoop.it - Les Colocs du jardin

"C'est la première fois que je vois un mois de mai aussi pluvieux", assure Alain Barraton, jardinier en chef du Grand Parc de Versailles et du domaine de Trianon. Avant de confier au micro de franceinfo s’inquiéter de la chaleur qui pourrait remonter rapidement ces prochains jours.

  franceinfo

Radio France

  Publié le 03/06/2024 12:50 Mis à jour le 03/06/2024 12:51

  "... Pour faire simple, les plantes ont vraiment besoin de trois éléments principaux : de l'eau - ça, ça ne manque pas -, de soleil et de chaleur. Comment voulez-vous avoir dans quelques mois des tomates dans votre jardin s'il n'y a pas de soleil pour les faire pousser et de la chaleur pour les faire mûrir ? Comment voulez-vous que les arbres fruitiers puissent donner à profusion des fruits quand on sait que des pluies torrentielles lessivent le cœur des fleurs, diluent le pollen et empêchent donc une bonne pollinisation. Et si ça continue, la situation va devenir vraiment, vraiment compliquée."

(...)

[zehub]

Météo : pourquoi la pluie tombée ces dernières semaines en France n'est pas forcément une bonne nouvelle pour nos jardins

"C'est la première fois que je vois un mois de mai aussi pluvieux", assure Alain Barraton, jardinier en chef du Grand Parc de Versailles et du domaine de Trianon. Avant de confier au micro de franceinfo s'inquièter de la chaleur qui pourrait remonter rapidement ces prochains jours.

[sweetno]

E essa Barratone recheada com Doce de leite e nozes … Ainda dá tempo de encomendar a sua! #natalchegando . . . . . . . #natal #presentedenatal #barratone #panetone #deliciasdenatal #lembrancadenatal #noemybakeoff #noemycaangiconfeitaria #noemycaangiarteegastronomia #noemycaangicakes #noemycaangi #docedeleite #nozes (em Brooklin Novo) https://www.instagram.com/noemycaangi/p/CXUkCo6Lo25/?utm_medium=tumblr

[nandosilva10]

BARRATONE DA LÉIA PANETONE + RECHEIO + CHOCOLATE. ESCOLHA SEU RECHEIO PREDILETO QUE FAREMOS COM O MAIOR PRAZER. #BARRATONE #leiaboleira @elainepereira40 @npembalagens @artesda_reh @lucieneolmos @jo.carvalho.9081323 @japamaveco @icefest @drogaria_zanini https://www.instagram.com/p/CVlvL_ZJtJc/?utm_medium=tumblr

[fruittiest-of-loops]

Mine’s Lazarith

My clarinets name is Richard

[creativesplat]

WIP Wednesday

(@wanderingnightingale inspired this idea, go check out their lovely work!)

Since I’m not going to be posting fanfic for a little while (probably) since writing has been slow going, and since I am really busy, I’m going to be posting a WIP of Visiting a Village. This is from one of the later chapters. 

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

“Mipha!” Daruk’s rumbling barratone crumbled through the air. 

The towering Goron came over the horizon. 

Mipha smiled, Link looked down at her, and then up at Daruk.

Nothing could shatter the joy he felt. It surged through his heart, boiling green through the cold of the winter noon. Mipha whooped in exultation.

The battle was won. The white scale shone in his mind, dancing. He looked up at the sun, filled with a joy no laughter could convey, no action could describe. He wanted to dance, to skip, to scream. 

Even their victory a moment prior hadn’t tasted so sweet. He didn’t know if anything would ever be so beautiful, so wonderful, so deliciously jubilant. Could any joy compare to this?  Link was bathing in honey and bliss. 

Daruk was coming closer. Link waved. His armour glinted against the sunrise, hand covered in blood, ichor, and dirt. They dripped, mingled, down his vambraces. Snow glittered and fluttered down as he laughed. Mipha smiled up at him, and clutched his arm. 

Daruk didn’t wave back. 

Red hair swung in the gentle wind, pouring over Daruk’s forearm. 

A woman was curled in a foetal position against his warm molten chest, red hair sprawled like a the wisps of cloud crowned by a fiery sunset. 

Urbosa. 

She was lying against him, in almost a hug. A drip of dread cooled the fire of jubilation in Link’s heart. It could have been a hug, if Daruk’s eyes weren’t full of desperate tears, and if her head wasn’t lolling. She was pale. Limp. 

There was something in Daruk’s other hand, which was lightly spattered in blood. A collection of indigo feathers and something that looked like a beak.

Mipha and Link began running. 

You can find Visiting a Village here: 

Summary of the Story: When crisis strikes Rito Village, the Champions are called on for support and aid. Preparation against the advancing hoard of monsters is undertaken, and Link begins arial training in the flight range. New technologies are tested; hurt and healing flirt pensively with each champion; and new threats loom. All the while, Link is forced to confront friendships and animosities, as he begins to see those who have been chosen to fight beside him in a new light. Will this prepare the heroes for Ganon’s return, or will their actions it bode ill for the future of Hyrule?

[borbersk]

Is switching between voices when you sing an autistic thing, or am I just weird?

Like, I'll be singing a song in (I have no idea what the correct terms are, but) a barratone, then just switch to some crazy, gritty, grinding yell, then go to a tennor (tenner?) All in the same verse. I like how it sounds, and how it feels to sing like that, but is that just me?

[bluebellhairpin]

been vibin with my pa over the rdr 2 soundtrack. he likes country music and base/barratone voices. i like arthur morgan. win-win. 

[feirabxd]

Barratone de @docei.brigadeiros  

[catherinehephurn]

Guitar- Cherie

Cello- Judy

Barratone Ukelele: Ralph

musicians of tumbr reblog with your instrment and its name

ill go first, i play violin and her name is sardine

[thosedeliciouspatties]

Thank you for the tag @nananandailustra

Rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you would like to know better

nicknames: Dont really have one.

gender: Male

height: 5'1"

time: 4:18 PM

birthday: April 20th

favourite bands : Three Days Grace, AC DC, System of a Down.

favourite solo artists: Don't have any.

song stuck in my head:  Neon Trees - Some kind of Monster

last movie I watched: Deadpool

last TV show I watched: Star Wars The Clone Wars

when did I create my blog: September or October of this year I think.

what do I post: Star Wars, Marvel, Avatar, Transformers but mostly memes.

last thing I googled: The Senate

do I have other blogs: None

do I get asks?: Not really

why did I choose my URL: I try to keep my various account easy to keep track of so I named this blog after my YouTube channel.

following: 42

followers: 27

favourite colours: Light Blue, Green and Red.

average hours of sleep: 3-4 hours during weekdays and 7-8 During weekends.

lucky numbers: 5

instruments: None, though I use to play the Barratone.

what am i wearing:  T shirt and jeans.

how many blankets do i sleep with : 1

dream job: Animator

dream trip: Original shooting locations for the Star Wars films

favourite food: Chicken, Noodles, casual stuff.

nationality: American

favourite song right now:   Three Days Grace- Animal I Have Become

Tagging: @centerofweird