#rataplan

[geritsel]

Morris (Maurice de Bevere) - Various Lucky Luke cover illustrations for the Dutch comic magazine ‘Pep’, 1965-1967.

[mybuddyjimmy]

Rataplan

Rataplan [RAD-ə-plan]Part of speech: nounOrigin: French, 19th century1. A drumming or beating sound.Examples of rataplan in a sentence“At halftime, we could hear the rataplan of the marching band before they entered the field.”“The thunderstorm unleashed a rataplan of heavy rain that lasted hours.”

[whats-on-my-minds]

10x interessante kringloopwinkels in Noord-Holland

Noord-Holland telt maar liefst 262 kringloopwinkels. Nu we minder te besteden hebben bezoeken we met zijn alle vaker een kringloopwinkel. Bovendien zijn we bewuster bezig met het hergebruiken van spullen. Dit zijn de 10 kringloopwinkels die de moeite waa

Populairder dan ooit! Noord-Holland telt maar liefst 262 kringloopwinkels. Nu we minder te besteden hebben bezoeken we met zijn alle vaker een kringloopwinkel. Bovendien zijn we bewuster bezig met het hergebruiken van spullen. Dit zijn de 10 kringloopwinkels die de moeite waard zijn om te bezoeken. Kijk voor de aderessen en openingstijden in de kaart hieronder! Noppes PurmerendDorcas Heilo…

[pixites]

[firethatgrewsolow]

⬆️ Hero of ⬇️

[widevibratobitch]

soooooo true 🙏

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

*after the ending of act iii*

preziosilla: yeah, melitone, i saved your ass back there with that little rataplan

melitone: that was you?

preziosilla: yeah!

melitone:

preziosilla:

melitone: *frowns, narrows his brows, gives preziosilla the middle finger, and leaves without a word*

[dnickels]

@terribleoldwhitemen tagged me to post the first line of my last ten fics :) I'm shy because I think the weakest part of my stuff is always the first few paragraphs, they're just never good from me (and they're so important) "I don't remember these" many of them were bad and I edited them for the purpose of this very meme.

1. He's having the dream again. (Taking the Auspices, Inspector Morse, Lewis)

2. Jim was late getting home— later than he had been in years, certainly since the big promotion. (World Enough and Time, Endeavour, Inspector Morse)

3. "—bloody farce, that's what it is." (Rataplan, Endeavour)

4. George fumbled in the dark, nearly knocking over his glass before searching fingers lighted upon his watch. (Cathedral Town, George Gently)

5. Tires crunched on the gravel as Morse pulled to a slow halt in front of the house (Enigma, Endeavour, BBC Ghosts)

6. "And you're certain that's all?" (Singing in Rounds, Endeavour, Inspector Morse)

7. "Morse! This is a surprise!" (For the Good We Do, Endeavour)

8. It was weeks before Joan saw Morse again. (On A Wide Wide Sea, Endeavour)

9. He paid for his cab and didn't bother counting the pennies, shoving a fistful of coins through the window (Ease that Asks Not Earning, Endeavour)

10. She shouldn't be here. This wasn't her home. (At the End, at the Close, Endeavour)

Thank you for tagging me :) God there's only like 25 of you now and I know I will forget someone, so do it if the spirit moves you--- uh @adamsvanrhijn @lemonistas @bluelikeajay @rescue-ram et al

[widevibratobitch]

i need her to peg me so bad

godddddd i wish preziosilla would fuck me nasty

[blondiexbiites]

Name:  Pietro

Age: 30's

Do you like to cuddle?:  Sure

Can we make-out?: I feel like that is a given

A night in or dinner out?: Night in.

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?: Whipped cream. Though you might like something more crimson

Chocolates and roses?: Pink roses, no chocolate

What makes you a good Valentine?:  The way I make your toes curl.

Would you cook for me?: Like heating up a mug of blood?

Would you let me cook for you?: You do all the time.

Where would you take me on a date?: To bed. Or the hills of Eastern Europe. At night of course

Who’s paying?: Who said anything about paying?

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?: I can put a pink bow on if you like. Actually silver necklace with a pink moonstone.

A few minutes past one o’clock in the morning, a hard rain fell without warning. No thunder preceded the deluge and no wind. The abruptness and the ferocity of the downpour had the urgent quality of a perilous storm in a nightmare. Lying in her coffin with Boo Boo curled comfortably on the flat planes of her stomach, Madison had been restless before the sudden cloudburst. She grew increasingly fidgety, nibbling at her bottom lip with the points of her fangs as she listened to the rush of rain. The voices of the tempest were legion, like a crowd whispering and shouting their discontent.

Torrents pounded and pried at the cedar siding, at the shingles, as if seeking entrance. September in southern California had always before been a dry month in a long season of predictable drought. Rain rarely fell after March, seldom before December. In wet months, the rataplan of raindrops on the roof had sometimes served as a reliable remedy for insomnia. This night, however, the liquid rhythms failed to lull her into her usual meditative slumber, and not just because they were out of season.

For Madison, sleeplessness had too often in recent years been the price of becoming a vampire. Scorned by the sandman, she stared at the dark ceiling of her coffin, brooding about Valentine's Day and wondering if she should just spend it alone with her cat or find a warm body to nestle with and feed on. Plush lips pooched out in a pout as she mulled over her options until finally, she carefully reached into her pocket and whipped out her phone, scrolling through the numerous spam, ads, and pop-ups until she finally stumbled across a familiar email address…and attachment. Blue eyes squinted as she read through the application and a slow, delighted smile spread across her face. Pietro sure knew how to make a girl happy.

"And you just earned yourself a happy ending, babe," she cooed as she imagined all sorts of delights she would introduce her beau to on Valentine's Day. That pink bow was beginning to sound more and more appealing.

Tomorrow was going to be fuuuuun.

@thefastestaround

[widevibratobitch]

ive been listening to normal music way too much lately. wtf is a material girl bitch put on some rataplan or so help me god

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

La fille du régiment (Maribor, Slovenia, 2021): Reactions, Part I

in which yours truly finds a random-ass production of la fille du régiment and hopes for the best

the best thing to do when you have no hope of understanding the titles is just to vibe with the music

(luckily this is an opera i know well)

they found little marie in a bush i am CRYING

THIS LITCHRALLY LOOKS LIKE A CARTOON LMAOOOOOOOOO

every dress is better with pockets

fly in the cartoon virgin mary

can we pls talk about the ladies’ dresses

“congrats on getting some french dude’s skis”

THE DUDE POURING THE BEER INTO THE PRIEST’S HOLY WATER DISPENSER LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO

the chorus is just having a blast

be very afraid of the marquise with a walking stick

it should be illegal to stage this chorus without everyone doing the silliest dances known to humankind

seriously i am just having a blast right now

THE KICKLINE PLEAAAAAAAAAASE

“boo”

okay i LOVE marie’s costume

are they just gonna fly cartoon cutouts of anything related to the theme of the moment

(not gonna lie, it would be funny if they did)

THE SOLDIER BOOGEYING IN THE BACK

i mean they may not be the caliber of singers in other productions i’ve seen, but a) they can still sing the music and b) they are just DELIGHTFUL

hahahahahaha

i guess they are going to keep doing that

WHY ARE THEY TAKING HIS MEASUREMENTS LMAOOOOOOOOOO

“yay!!! we get to do our circle the prisoner dance!!! that like never happens!!!”

THEY TIED HIM UP WITH THE MEASURING TAPE I’M DYING

“oh he saved your life? never mind then”

awwwwwwwww

THE SOLDIERS TRYING TO SING MARIE’S CADENZAS AND FAILING AND TONIO SPITTING OUT HIS BEER

OH MY FUCKING GOD

the chorus swaying comes back

most non-toxic masculinity in opera ever

gotta wave that flag high to match the sparkling high notes

NOT TONIO ESCAPING BY HIDING BEHIND A CARDBOARD BUSH

“surprise! it me 😊”

neither of them are good at french but they’re both cute

tonio: *kicks the box out of frustration*

also tonio: “ouchie 🤬🥺”

THE MARQUISE AND HORTENSIUS SNEAKING IN BEHIND A CARDBOARD TREE LOL

well this is awkward

we all love a good operatic rataplan

meet the newest member of the 21st! he’s a himbo who can sing high :)

dude did not come all this way and put on that little beret to get rejected like this

THEY HAVE SIGNS TO COUNT THE HIGH CS I HAVE DIED I AM DEAD

(also: took dude a little effort but he DID get out all nine high Cs)

oh no oh buddy

awwwwwwww they’re all so sad

TONIO NO

donizetti you had no right to stuff this opera with so many golden tunes like this one

them against the world

the marquise just gotta be a drama queen one more time

anyway this is AMAZING rest to come probably tonight

[enigmew]

rataplan does things in a hole and visits the edge of the world compilation good for her!

[full-of-mercy]

Close. Please.

Punisher-the-man is a weapon, raised and trained and honed, pared away and sharpened in such a way that he can hardly be considered human.

Please.

His name in Vash's mouth, cradled on his tongue, twisted around with a plea for more, with a warning, is all too human. Whipcrack it stirs Nicholas into motion, risen further on his knees, legs locked taut, forearm corded.

He matches Vash's aborted ruts, bracing pale thighs over his shoulders and muffling his ears with aplomb. While the grip in his hair has tousled it so thoroughly that he no longer has clear sight on the blond's face, his stare burns dark and ember-bright in the shadows of their room. Some of their neighbors have already gotten the picture, knocks on the wall percussive and peevish.

It spurs urgency.

As much as the sounds Vash makes spur urgency.

More. More. A demand. A desire. A want, where they have scarcely allowed themselves Want beyond basic Need, but he needs this too. Needs this like the air he is not currently breathing.

Wet. Wet as anything, Wolfwood's finger-thrusts speed. He spares a third, index-middle-ring, timing push-pull with each tilt of the Stampede's pelvis, timing inarticulate bobs, suction, flicker-lashes of tongue along corrugated rippled tendril bundles, attentive to what makes Vash squirm.

Inhale, exhale, breath held. Swifter. Practically vibrating, trigger-fingers crooked and scissoring against crushing tightness, satin-slick texture, and the demand of the vine drawing him in closer until his nerve-endings tingle.

Without his input, Nicholas groans, growls, color flushed from cheeks to chest, just as desperate as he pushes his free hand underneath Vash's shirt, spreads his fingers over scarred skin as if he might hold the rataplan heartbeat in his palm.

He intends to ride it through.

Intends to keep going, even if he cannot contain it all, doused, soaked, painted in it, trembling and awed at the edges of restraint.

Wolfwood keeps going—intensifies, even—and Vash couldn't be more thankful. He moans again, louder still, and presses his fingers into inky hair to pull him closer and closer...

"Wolf...wood—"

There is a worry, a slight concern in the back of his mind about the undertaker's air flow, but he seems too occupied to care at the moment. The forefront of his mind is likewise too lost in pleasure to care, and he can't control the weak thrusting motion of his hips as he ruts into the man's mouth.

He wants more.

But that will come later.

Vash can't stop looking at the way Wolfwood desperately pushes against the floor, yearning for friction, yearning for release. He'd love to slump to the floor with him, get his mouth on him, maybe even let him fuck his face if he's into it.

Really, he just wants to see him. It's eating him alive seeing his cock untouched; what he wouldn't give to just tug at the knot and undo it...

"Mmnn....—!"

Between the fingers and Wolfwood's mouth moving on him, all the elements of the perfect storm are there. He can feel the shuddering of a climax begin in his thighs and make its way up to his abdomen. Vash's little pulsating thrusts become rougher; the grip on Wolfwood's hair tightens.

"N-Nick... I'm—I'm close," Vash barely manages to stammer out a warning through his panting and whining and moaning. He's not sure which action is stimulating him the most right now, but feeling everything at once is satisfyingly overwhelming—so much so that he can't control the tears rolling down his face.

"P-please—!"