#Best Wedding Album Makers

[dateinthelife]

14 November 1969

On this date, John and Yoko's third LP is released. Having been sent a promotional copy with two discs, with a test signal on one side of each, Melody Maker reviewer Richard Williams gamely listens to what he thinks is an intentional release, concluding:

...constant listening reveals a curious point: the pitch of the tones alters frequency, but only by microtones or, at most, a semitone. This oscillation produces an almost subliminal, uneven ‘beat’ which maintains interest. On a more basic level, you could have a ball by improvising your very own raga, plainsong, or even Gaelic mouth music against the drone.

Lennon and Ono replied by telegram:

DEAR RICHARD THANK YOU FOR YOUR FANTASTIC REVIEW ON OUR WEDDING ALBUM INCLUDING C-AND-D SIDES STOP WE ARE CONSIDERING IT FOR OUR NEXT RELEASE STOP MAYBE YOU ARE RIGHT IN SAYING THAT THEY ARE THE BEST SIDES STOP WE BOTH FEEL THAT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME A CRITIC TOPPED THE ARTIST STOP WE ARE NOT JOKING STOP LOVE AND PEACE STOP JOHN AND YOKO LENNON

#today in the life #john lennon #Yoko Ono #14 November #1969

[marc-spectorr]

Callie, I miss you 🥺❤

Because I'm working on a wedding photo album for my brother currently all I can think about is how the moon boys or Poe or even Santi would feel at their wedding day???😄 Would you write headcanons for them? I wonder about big and small weddings, what they're wearing, who would cry, just idk... all I'm seeing is the boys getting married (and they all deserve it 🤧)

Love youuu ❤ I hope your week started good, are you alright? Drink enough water & take care sweetheart 😘

-- 🌻

heyyya sunnie my love 🌻💛

sorry it took me a while to respond! i decided to do poe for your headcanon idea since i’ve been itching to write something for him :)) hope you enjoy 💞

poe dameron on your wedding day

poe, the always-so-confident, and cocky commander, is quite a nervous groom on the big day itself.

it’s a good thing you and him agreed not to see each other before the ceremony. you would have been terribly worried about how much of a jittery mess he’s been all morning.

but he simply wants this day to be absolutely perfect. 

as perfect as the way you envisioned it.

as perfect as the way you are.

the ceremony starts at exactly noon, and poe could feel himself sweating underneath his formal uniform regalia, which you’d requested him to wear.

((fighting for the resistance while planning a wedding proved to be an arduous task. there wasn’t enough time to go off-world and find a fancy suit. the two of you had to make do with the things you already have though it isn’t much of a problem.))

((what matters the most is that you and poe exchange vows and commit to each other for life while surrounded by your close friends who have become family.))

“nervous are we, commander?” leia, who’s officiating the ceremony, whispers as the live music starts to perform the entrance song.

“nah, of course not. why? is it that obvious?” poe chuckles, fumbling with his hands in front of him.

finn lightly taps on his shoulder. “you got this, dameron. if you can easily fly an x-wing with your eyes closed, then saying ‘i do’ is pretty much a walk in the park.”

poe hums quietly, seemingly agreeing with his best man. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but flying an x-wing with his eyes closed was a lot less nerve-wracking than this.

“hey, don’t worry. you’re going to do just fine! any moment now, the love of your life will walk down the aisle, and all you’re going to think about is how you’re the happiest man alive,” rey soothes him calm.

thank the maker you chose her to be the maid of honor. she always seems to know what to say.

a fond smile makes its way onto poe’s face at the thought of you, and the fact that you already make him the happiest man in this galaxy and far beyond.

the small crowd's gentle aww's fill the lush open air of ajan kloss as your flower droid r2-d2 ambles down the pathway, tossing red, white, and pink petals all over the earthy ground.

bb8, the adorable ring-bearer, soon follows, rolling towards the end of the aisle and beeping enthusiastically to the melodic tune playing in the background.

when the guests stand, poe holds his breath.

finally, he sees you, gracefully making your way to him with the most radiant smile on your lips.

beautiful, just breathtakingly beautiful, poe thinks. his heart swiftly beats against his chest as your gazes meet, and he swears it feels like an absolute dream.

a tear slips out from his eye, one that he doesn’t make an attempt to hold back.

poe’s love for you is cosmic. you’re the sun, and he’s your planet, orbiting around you for an infinite time.

and he’d forever proclaim that around the base to anyone who would listen.

“hi,” you softly greet, slipping your hands into his.

hands that he will forever hold. hands that he will forever cherish.

“hi,” poe replies sweetly, finding himself speechless at the wondrous sight of you.

he doesn’t need to say anything more. his lovestruck eyes told you all which you needed to know.

the rest of the ceremony is almost a blur to poe until it came time to exchange the vows you and he wrote yourselves.

although his voice was shaky, he made it through his entire speech with minimal tears.

poe’s vows make you cry.

and as you read yours for him, it makes him cry, too.

perhaps a little harder than you did.

then, there’s the ring. his mother’s ring.

it dangled on a silver chain around his neck for many, many years.

poe still remembers those late, lonesome nights when he’d wonder if he’ll ever find someone who was worthy enough to give his late mother’s wedding ring.

and now that same ring adorns your finger, serving as a symbol of his eternal promise to you.

to have and to hold, till death do us part.

i do, i do, i do...

“it is my great honor and happy privilege to introduce to you the damerons!” leia announces gleefully at the end. “commander, you may kiss the—”

“way ahead of you, general,” poe’s laughs before wrapping his arms around you and dipping you down slightly, leaning in close. 

i love you, sunshine, he mouths silently, cheeks wet and beaming oh so brightly.

i love you, too, you return, your voice a mere breath that tickles his lips.

poe kisses you, pouring all of his love and joy into it as your found-family cheers endlessly.

today had truly been the best day of his life.

and poe could only imagine the exciting adventures the universe has in store for the two of you.

a/n: pls be gentle with me on this. im still getting a feel for writing poe ;-;

#asks #🌻 anon #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron headcanons #oscar isaac x reader

[jenifersohowe]

You Make My Dreams (Come True) (Hall & Oates Cover) - Tanner Patrick

THIS IS THE BEST SONG NEW RELEASED 2023′S NAME ‘’ YOU MAKE MY DREAM ( COME TRUE ) ‘’ IN HIS ALBUM SONG ‘’ THE VINTAGE VAULT ‘’ WITH HIS ROLE OF MUSIC PRODUCER AND MUSIC CREATOR ( MUSIC MAKER ) MAKING THEM MELODY IN NEW MUSIC WITH HIS MUSIC EQUIPMENTS AND SUCCESSFULLY TO MAKE THIS OLD CLASSICALSONG INTO NEW MODERN TWIST ROCK AND ROLL DANCE RHYTHM  MUSIC FOR THIS NEW CENTURY IN ORDER TO SHARING THEM WITH YOU BY HIS WARM AND AMAZING GREAT VOCAL SINGING OF HIM TO YOU . WE WANNA TALK ABOUT AMERICAN SONG WRITER AND MUSICIAN , MUSIC ARTIST , MUSIC PRODUCER , AND HE IS AN AMERICAN SUPERSTAR AND SUPERIDOL OF POP AND ROCK MUSIC GENRE STAR OF MUSIC GENIUS CREATOR AND MUSIC PRODIGY MAKER C.E.O LEADER TANNER PATRICK HOWE.

HE MAKES MUSIC ALWAYS WITH HIS SIBLINGS MUSIC ARTIST WHO IS MUSIC SOUND MASTER DIRECTOR AND VOCALS COACH C.E.O LEADER GRAYSON HOWE IN ORDER TO MAKE THE BRANDNEW MUSIC UPDATING ALWAYS ON YOUR WAY TO YOU ,

ESPECIALLY , BEHIND C.E.O LEADER TANNER PATRICK , THERE IS ALWAYS HIS SPOUSE WIFE JENIFER SO HOWE , SHE IS HIS GREATEST SUPPORTER ALL THE TIME RIGHT NEXT TO HIM . THEIR SIBLINGS ARE TOO BLESSED SONS OF AMERICANS C.E.OS GREATEST HONORED PARENT NAMED HOWE WHO ARE THE C.E.OS LEADERS IN AMERICANS FAMILY PROFESSIONALS CAREERS C.E.OS LABEL NAMED HOWE’S THAT WE ARE INTRODUCING YOU HERE !!

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[sameerten73]

Capturing Eternal Moments: Wedding Photographers in Bangalore

A wedding is a monumental occasion in one's life, filled with moments of joy, love, and togetherness that deserve to be cherished forever. Among the many elements that contribute to the magic of a wedding, photography stands out as a timeless medium that captures these cherished moments, preserving them for generations to come. In the bustling city of Bangalore, wedding photographers play an indispensable role in immortalizing the emotions, rituals, and stories of couples embarking on their lifelong journey together. 

The Artistry of Bangalore Wedding Photographers 

Bangalore, known as the "Silicon Valley of India," boasts a vibrant and diverse culture that is richly reflected in its weddings. From traditional ceremonies to contemporary celebrations, wedding photographers in Bangalore are adept at capturing the essence of each event with creativity and finesse. Their artistry lies not only in their technical skills but also in their ability to weave a narrative through their photographs, allowing couples to relive their special day with every glance. 

Technical Excellence and Innovation 

Wedding photography has evolved immensely over the years, and photographers in Bangalore have embraced the latest trends and technologies to provide couples with exceptional visual narratives. With an eye for detail and an understanding of lighting, composition, and angles, these photographers create images that are not just snapshots but pieces of art. Whether it's candid shots that capture stolen glances or meticulously arranged group portraits, these professionals know how to make every frame count. 

Diverse Styles for Every Couple 

Every couple is unique, and so is their vision for their wedding photographs. Bangalore photographers offer a diverse range of styles to cater to individual preferences. Traditional photography captures the classic elegance of ceremonies, while candid photography immortalizes raw emotions and unscripted moments. Pre-wedding and post-wedding photoshoots allow couples to showcase their personalities and love stories in picturesque settings. Drone photography adds an innovative perspective by capturing stunning aerial shots of the wedding venue and its surroundings. 

Preserving Cultural Heritage 

Bangalore is a melting pot of cultures, and its weddings are a testament to this cultural diversity. Wedding photographers in the city understand the importance of preserving cultural heritage and rituals through their lenses. They capture the intricate details of customs, attire, and decorations, ensuring that these unique elements are celebrated and remembered for years to come. Whether it's a grand South Indian wedding or an intimate Christian ceremony, these photographers excel at encapsulating the authenticity of each tradition. 

Creating Lasting Memories 

The true essence of wedding photography lies in its ability to create memories that are cherished for a lifetime.  Best Pre Wedding Photographers in Bangalore go beyond merely taking pictures; they craft narratives that evoke genuine emotions. When couples leaf through their wedding albums or scroll through digital galleries, they are transported back to the laughter, tears, and love that filled their special day. These photographs become a cherished legacy passed down through generations, allowing family members to connect with their roots and relive the love stories that started it all. 

Conclusion 

In the bustling city of Bangalore, wedding photographers are not just professionals behind the camera; they are storytellers, artists, and memory-makers. With their technical expertise, creative vision, and cultural sensitivity, they capture the essence of weddings in all their splendor. As couples exchange vows and families come together, these photographers silently weave the fabric of moments that will be treasured for generations. Their work is a testament to the power of photography, ensuring that the magic of weddings in Bangalore lives on, forever captured in the frames of time. 

[chicinvites]

Unveiling the Power of Indian Wedding Hashtags  

Indian weddings are known for their grandeur, vibrant colors, and exuberant celebrations. They are a fusion of tradition, culture, and modernity, bringing together families and friends to rejoice in the union of two souls. With the advent of social media, Indian weddings have embraced the trend of hashtags for wedding couple, adding a touch of personalization and digital flair to this time-honored ritual.  

In this blog, we'll dive into the world of Indian wedding hashtags, exploring their significance, creativity, and the joy they bring to capturing and sharing these memorable moments. We’ll also explain how to use our services to get the best and quirkiest wedding hashtag for your big day.  

 Why do Couples Create Hashtags for their weddings? 

1. Capturing the Essence of Love: 

Indian wedding hashtags serve as a digital thread that weaves together all the beautiful moments of the journey from engagement to the wedding day. They encapsulate the love story of the couple, becoming a symbol of their union.  

Whether it's a romantic phrase, a clever wordplay, or a combination of the couple's names, a well-crafted wedding hashtag for couples becomes a lasting reminder of the love and commitment shared between two individuals. 

2. Embracing Tradition and Culture: 

Indian weddings are steeped in tradition and cultural rituals. Indian wedding Hashtags provide an opportunity to infuse these elements into the digital realm. Couples can incorporate traditional motifs, symbols, or even specific rituals into their hashtags with the help of the designers at Chic Invites. It helps in adding depth and significance to their online presence. From #BrideGoesBaraat to #MehendiMoments, these hashtags not only celebrate the couple's love but also honor the rich heritage they come from. 

3. Uniting Families and Friends: 

Weddings are a time when families and friends come together to celebrate the union of their loved ones. Hashtags for wedding couple become a rallying point, allowing everyone to participate and contribute to the wedding narrative. Guests can use the designated hashtag to share their well wishes, photographs, and videos, creating a collective album of cherished memories. It bridges the physical and digital realms, ensuring that the joy and excitement of the wedding day reverberate far beyond the wedding venue. 

4. Creating a Digital Time Capsule: 

Indian weddings are elaborate affairs, filled with multiple events and festivities. Trending Wedding Hashtags help create a digital time capsule, capturing every precious moment for the couple to revisit and relive long after the celebrations are over. From the pre-wedding photoshoots to the sangeet performances and the emotional bidaai, each event can be immortalized through the lens of a unique wedding hashtag. This digital archive becomes a treasured keepsake, preserving the magic and emotions of the wedding day. 

5. Showcasing Creativity and Personalization: 

Indian wedding hashtags offer a canvas for creativity and personalization. Couples and their loved ones can get imaginative, crafting hashtags that reflect their personalities, interests, or shared experiences. Whether it's a play on words, a reference to a favorite song, or a fusion of their names, the possibilities are endless. These unique hashtags add an element of fun and excitement to the wedding journey, making it even more memorable for everyone involved. 

 How To Create Your Indian Wedding Hashtag With Chic Invites?  

Trending Indian wedding hashtags have become an integral part of the weddings of the modern times. Chic Invites being a wedding hashtag maker helps you encapsulate the love, joy, and togetherness that define these auspicious occasions. They have transformed how we document and share our most cherished memories, bridging the gap between tradition and technology.  

As couples embark on their journey of love, quirky and funny wedding hashtags become a digital symbol of their union, a reflection of their culture, and a testimony to the eternal bond they share. So, let the hashtags fly and let the celebrations unfold, as we embrace the power of Indian wedding hashtags and the joy they bring to our lives. 

#wedding hashtags #wedding invitation designer #hashtag #wedding couple logo

[rlxtechoff]

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[veworgirl]

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You can also customize background music, background images, menu navigator, font, etc. There are also a great numbers of menu templates of choice, like for wedding, memorial, scenery, collage, Christmas, Easter, vacation, sports, party, etc. If you have built more than one album, and you are going to burn your slideshow to DVD, it is strongly suggested that you select a menu for your slideshow DVD for better playback control. Choose DVD menu (for DVD burning purpose) Switch to the Album Preview tab, click the Play button, and you will check out the real effects of your slideshow.ĥ. You can easily find one to create birthday slideshow, Christmas slideshow, Thanksgiving slideshow, wedding slideshow, valentine slideshow, vacation slideshow, and more. There are dozens of templates for you to choose from. In the Album Theme tab, you can choose a theme template for the current album.

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[wandamaxim0f]

Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek One-Shot - Ghost of you

Words: 1.3k

Otis x Female reader

Tw: mentions of character death, grief, very sad, mentions of Grey's Anatomy and Taylor Swift, unsupportive parent, heartbreak, mentions of wedding and kids, Reader is a widow, pet names (babe) (If I forgot any warning please let me know!)

A/N: This is the first one-shot I post here :) It's inspired by the 5 seconds of summer song "Ghost of you" so I recommend you hear it before reading this! Enjoy!

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Y/N woke up, as tired as always and sat down on bed. Those two weeks without her husband had felt like a lifetime. Maybe it had been one, a new life, a life where Brian was gone. She had seen a thousand shows and movies where someone became a widow, and now she could hear that Grey’s Anatomy line on repeat in her head, about Derek’s mother not being able to sleep on her late husband’s side of the bed. As she looked over her shoulder, she realized his side of the bed remained untouched from that last morning, in which they had woken up, rearranged the bedsheets, pillows and blankets, had breakfast together, kissed goodbye and left for work. And never met again.

There's your coffee cup

The lipstick stain fades with time

As she got to the kitchen, got the coffee maker working and opened the cabinet to grab her coffee cup, she saw his, with the Blackhawks logo on it, right next to hers, and the tears pooled once again in the eyes Otis had loved so much. Silently, she thanked him for doing the dishes instead of just leaving them on the sink for her to wash when she got back home as they usually did, since she wouldn't have been able to wash his cup. Oh, how he loved that cup.

If I can dream long enough

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

“If anything should happen to me, I’ll visit you in your dreams. I promise. But there’s no need to worry about that now, babe. We’re gonna have kids and grow old together, you know? Just like we said” he whispered to her, his hand resting in her lower belly lovingly, and Y/N got on her side, a beautiful smile on her lips as she got lost in his brown eyes “Yeah? How many?” “Two boys and a girl. I’m confident I’ll be just fine, but I wouldn’t like you to be alone if one day I don’t make it back home”

Except that two whole weeks had gone by and she never dreamt, of anything. Not even once. And she ended up alone. They had dated four years, only for him to die two weeks after their wedding.

She drank her coffee, glancing at the sugar pot that rested on the counter, close to the coffee maker. He always took his coffee with one spoonful of sugar, while she took it as bitter as possible. Otis always joked about how she was so sweet and nice while her coffee was so bitter. “It’s almost ironic, you know? You are one of the sweetest people on earth, and yet you have your coffee with no sugar and very little milk” he had grinned one day, the first morning they spent together.

After washing the cup and leaving it next to Otis’s, she went to their bedroom to grab her gun and badge and head to the 21st district for the first time since she got that damn call from chief Boden.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Voight and Platt both decided it would be best if she stayed on desk duty for a while, at least until she got completely cleared by a therapist that she was good to be back on the streets. She didn’t complain, not finding that much energy on herself. It was thankfully a quiet day, so her mind was allowed to be a bit all over the place.

She remembered, with her very first smile in weeks, how on their fifth date they had dinner at his place one night he could kick Cruz and Brett out, and after dinner, he connected his phone to the speaker to play Taylor Swift’s album Red, the one she had told him was her favorite. So they danced to All too well as if the world was ending, and his eyes had never shine so brightly as he looked at her, spinning around, laughing and giggling.

Ever since then, dancing became their thing. They’d dance whenever they had the chance. And after they moved in together, they’d dance every night he’d spend at home. They had a whole playlist for their dancing moments, though they would dance to any song, regardless of the rhythm.

Surprisingly, that last day of license she had, she found herself dancing on her own to All too well, the first time she had danced alone to that song in four years, and even though it broke her heart once again, she found a little peace and the feeling that he hadn’t left her for real. She ended up leaning onto the door frame, remembering how they’d dance to that song whenever they heard it, and almost seeing their ghosts laughing with their arms around each other.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

As she got to their apartment that terrible day, with Hailey and Kim supporting her, she had to find some kind of strength to get to their room, her room now, since it would no longer be shared with Otis. Whatever strength she had found, it left her as soon as she got to the door, his Zepplin shirt he used as a pajama resting on top of a pillow. He’d say it helped him forget anything terrible he had seen during his shift, and forget the terrible smells he had felt.

She had broken down in tears and fell to her knees, sobbing loudly. Her friends got to her and wrapped their arms around the now widow police officer. In her mind, she was still there, crying. She couldn’t remember getting up or stop crying, and wondered if her soul was still in that same position. It sure felt like that.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

But I know better now

(Better now)

A tiny smile showed up on her lips as she remembered her mom’s words when they told her they had gotten engaged. Mrs Y/LN had said it had nothing to do with Otis, and everything to do with Y/N’s stupidity. She was way too young to know what real love felt like, Otis was her second boyfriend after all, if we consider her high school three weeks relationship a boyfriend. No. There was no way she was engaged. She was dumb when it came to love, and she was so young.

They had proved her wrong.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

As she got home that afternoon, she took a shower and dressed in his Zepplin shirt, with a sad smile. He had bought it really cheap like a decade ago and failed to realize it said Zepplin instead of Zepellin. It became a silly and loving joke between the two of them. She connected her phone to his speaker and All too well started playing once again, tears pooling in her eyes as she heard the lyrics, since she too, remembered everything all too well.

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

But this time, she tripped over the coffee table they had in the middle of the living room, and decided to stop dancing, turning off the speaker and closing the music app, realizing that maybe dancing in their living room was way too sacred to do it alone. She couldn’t dance like she did with him, so why bother? Otis was gone, and he had taken Y/N’s heart with him.

#brian zvonecek #chicago fire #one chicago #otis #otis zvonecek #otis x reader #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #joe cruz #sylvie brett #cruz #brett #hailey upton #chicago med #upton #kim burgess #burgess #21st district #one shot #otis one shot #tw grief #tw death #tw wedding #tw kids #tw parents #tw heartbreak #tw cops #otis x yn

[quitealotofsodapop]

MvA assorted headcanons

General:

So many years together has made the core monsters inseperable. If something affects one member, it affects the group.

All. The. Monsters. Are. Family.

It takes Susan a while to understand inside jokes and past incidents because of being the most recent addition.

There are Other anomalous creatures kept in Area 5X, but they are either non-sentient and/or are too dangerous to be kept around the more human-friendly monster group.

Area 5X is so gotdang big because they were expecting a lot more kaijus like Insecto to crop up. Sadly not many have surfaced to justify the space.

There’s a hangar in Area 5X full of wrecked UFOs. Some are spacecraft wreckage while others are stuff like weird meteors (Susan’s is in there), and at least one alien creature that got crystallised upon entering Earth’s atmosphere.

There’s significant difference in staff employed at different points throughout the past 50 years. There are far more women on the Area 5X worksheet than back in the 50s, and the guards are generally more sympathetic towards the monsters. Many modern staff members have been reprimanded or let go for failing to uphold secrecy, or for unnecessary cruelty towards the monsters.

Budget cuts were a legitmate concern up until the Battle of Golden Gate Bridge. The facility was far more barebones and sterile before the government had to formally recognise Area 5X’s importance. There have been a lot of redecorating at the facilty since the fat checks started coming in.

Putting individual characters under read due to length.

Susan:

Enjoys many hobbies considered stereotypically feminine; baking, sewing, cosmetics, etc...

Grandparents and extended family are farmers or are atleast connected to the business. Modesto is the agricultural centre of California after all. Her parents were the first of their generation to go against the mold and seek out white-collar careers.

Studied cosmetology in school and was working at a beauty salon to save up for her and Derek’s wedding.

Is very athletic and grew up doing a number of physical extracurriculars like cheerleading, dodgeball, and roller-derby.

Grew up being teased for being the shortest kid in her class/family. They still tease her for it.

Greatly fears causing collateral damage and/or harm to others through her size.

Has issues with anxiety, worsened only by her new job as “savior of earth”. She wishes for a confidant to tell her worries to.

Married life with Derek was doomed to fail. Susan had a plan in place for what came after the marriage, and focusing 100% on Derek’s career was not it. There’s also the line from Derek’s mother about Susan being “the weatherman’s wife”, implying that she was to be the homemaker and not have a career of her own. It’s possible that Susan was planning to settle down and have kids with Derek, but the lack of control she had in moving to Fresno implied that more was going on.

Is currently “taking a break” from love and dating, despite gaining many new admirers.

Tries her best to return to Modesto to visit her family and friends whenever possible, though work often keeps her away for weeks at a time.

If she retains her height-shifting abilities as in the series; Susan goes through really bad “growing” pains.

Link:

Was frozen in his relative late-teens during a cold snap. Got shifted around until he ended up somewhere in Greenland before being discovered by modern humans. Post-thaw he went a bit wild, swimming frantically back south to try and find his old enviroment.

Was one of many scrappy youngsters in his troop, with a number of adoptive parents. The strongest ruled the troop, and Link was fairly weak in comparision to the leaders. He had gotten into a fight the day of his freezing (over something silly in hindsight) and swam away to sulk. When he didn’t return after the cold snap - the troop accepted that he had likely died out on his own.

Likes to freak out humans by making up weird biology facts about his species and ones he’s fought against - like joking about laying eggs or having his tail dettach and regrow like a lizard. However there’s some things he has to ask about, because he doesn’t have medical knowledge or words to describe something.

A lot of his macho behavior came from imitating the guards who kept watch on him. 1950s violent military alpha males aren't a very good role model for someone who doesnt know what societal norms are yet. Link was a lot more insufferable back in the day but chilled out as he began interacting with other walks of life.

Has a high paternal instinct and immediately becomes softer around kids and smaller animals.

Has body language similar to a cat/alligator. Slaps his tail when angry or in deep thought. And yes; Link purrs/rumbles when happy.

Loves monster movies - especially the ones where the monsters “win”. He cried when he saw “Beauty and the Beast” and then immediately booed loudly when the Beast turned human.

Does Not Trust doctors or scientists due to bad past experiences. Will only go to Dr Cockroach and Monger if he ever gets hurt/ill. Gets stressed fast if he has to be in a waiting room or doctors office.

Link had no idea what gender indentities or orientations were until recently - he did come from a pre-human civilization that really didnt mind/care about the schemantics. It took him some time to wrap his head around it. He identifies himself as bisexual after much thought and many hours alone on the computer.

Don't press him about his body. He's built different from humans and cis people. He will punch anyone who doesnt respect his or anyone elses identity.

Has been in love before. It didn’t end well.

Will occasionally wear clothes, but finds it a challenge to find anything that fits him. Will give any shoes he finds to Dr Cockroach and BOB to eat.

The best driver/pilot out of all the monsters.

Dr Cockroach:

True name is Jaques-Yves Herbert. Prefers to just go by "Dr Cockroach" because he dislikes the association with his birth family.

Picks up human languages very easily, although not as quickly as he can understand animals.

Parents were a mixed scientist couple. His father was an aggressive “Strong British Man” that would beat him son down for not following orders or for not meeting his standards for a man. Dr C turned down both chances to attend his parents funerals.

This man isn’t straight. He probably uses old-fashioned slang when asked about romance such as; “I am Uranian” or “I wear a green carnation”. It took Susan a few times to realise what he meant, as she is used to a more open minded enviroment.

Got the idea of transforming into a cockroach from reading Franz Kafkas “The Metamorphosis” as a child. He sympathized with Gregor’s abusive situation, and began considering the possibilties of how one could survive better as a creature like a cockroach.

Studied in biology and entomology in the Uk before moving to the states to follow engineering. Obtained his degree in Dance as a “side gig” in University.

Has been barred from free access to the coffee maker/machine due to overnighters. Once stayed awake so long that he forgot the letter “R”.

Owned a terrarium of Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches throughout college. He mourned each of them when his roommate’s iguana got into the tank.

Was a "beatnik" back in the day and still kinda is. Embraces and encourages modern counterculture as he himself was not given such acceptance in his youth. He has however shamefully eaten his old Lenny Bruce album.

Hasn’t actually aged physically since his transformation. He attributes this to the fact that certain athropods can’t age physically beyond maturity. Link is very jealous.

Has obtained more degrees while in captivity, as Monger allowed him access to research and learning materials. He has however had his allowances revoked for previous escape attempts/doomsday devices.

Does still enjoy human food, but the cockroach instinct of "eat detritus" tends to overrule his eating choices. Can’t cook either.

Ironically a terrible driver. The damages from previous drives has made Monger restrict him from operating even a razor scooter.

BOB:

Pretty much considers himself human. Was created by them, raised by one (Monger), and talks like one. Gets sad when he's reminded that no other humans are blue blobs like him.

Absorbed some dna from the scientists present at his "birth", leading to his eye, speech, and omnivorous diet.

Doesnt actually need to breathe (as he can just absorb oxygen through his mass) but the fact that humans Do means that BOB thinks he has to as well.

Shares some physical characteristics with tomatoes/nightshade plants, as he is technically half tomato. He refuses to eat tomatos for this very reason, considering it cannibalism.

Attracts garden pests looking for a tomato plant. This unwittingly makes BOB a pretty good bug zapper.

Still retains his "mental broadcast" ability from "BOB's Big Break" although at a more subtle level. He tends to parrot the things he accidentally "eavesdropped" on.

Is empathetic, and can tell when others aren't doing ok emotionally. Will flop down on someone who’s really sad to comfort them. No brain, only heart.

Best cook out of the monsters. If he doesn’t forget what he’s making at least.

"Whats a gender? Can I eat it?"

Insectosaurus:

Core body is that of a Japanese Silkmoth, although she ended up being spliced with other animals present on the island during her initial mutation; namely ants and ground squirrels.

Eats over a literal ton of mulberry leaves per day. Also enjoys oranges.

Secretly wishes to be more humanoid.

Was only able to pupate and transform due to physical trauma. It seems that her transformation was like a “power-up” that required her to be in geniune distress for it to activate.

First language is Japanese. She learned it from the intial recovery team, and later developed an understanding of English from years in Area 5X.

Goes into torpor in cold weather. Pretty much impossible to wake her up for missions during Winter, as she needs to “rev up” before becoming mobile.

Still very much Link’s best friend. Still enjoys sports, chicks, and beer.

Monger:

Full name is; Warren Rex Monger.

Is very protective of the monsters and will defend them to the death.

Pretty much raised BOB (as seen when BOB was a baby blob in “Night of the Living Carrots”), and considers him his “freaky gelatinous son”.

Has a reputation of being a “control-freak” due to his aggressive overseeing of the monsters’ containment. This toughness is partly because of incidents that occured without his knowledge. Lets just say some scientists have been wedgied/fired for running experiments on the monsters without Monger’s approval.

Has a very “Ron Swanson” emotional response and view of the world. Crying is acceptable only at funerals and at the Grand Canyon (if he hadn’t lost his tear ducts in the war).

Has been married multiple times. Will not confirm or deny if he is currently seeing anyone.

Invisible Man/TiM:

Legit got out but no one at Area 5X is sure how. He suffered a geniune medical emergency and disappeared after surgery. The other monsters were informed that he died from complications to deter them from getting escape ideas.

Is able to be detected in Infrared light. Dr Cockroach managed to rig up goggles to view TiM in case of injury and to foil pranks.

Was a scientist working on an invisibility potion for the military and used himself as a guinea pig. Hasn’t actually been able to replicate his results since - thinks the effect may have been caused by a genetic abnormality.

Dr Cockroach and him are massive rivals. Both actually met eachother pre-transformation through a CalTech expedition. This makes the pair one of few people that have seen the others human face.

Is 100% naked. Was forced to wear clothing once this was discovered.

A massive prankster and a cynic. Him and Link were a force to be reckoned with.

Has revisted the facility multiple times and has started a number of ghost stories.

Any additions are welcome! I proably have alot more to dump about. Might make one of the alien characters from the series

#monsters vs aliens #mva #susan murphy #ginormica #the missing link #dr cockroach #bob mva #general monger #the invisible man mva #insectosaurus #headcanons

[delightfullyatomicfest]

John Lennon and Yoko Ono in Melody Maker, 20 September 1969

JOHN LENNON HASN’T had a royalty cheque for two years. 

And, believe it or not, he’s feeling the pinch. The man whose group has again been voted top in both the British and International Sections of the Melody Maker poll told me that The Beatles’ own company, Apple, has become something of a monster which is out of control. 

“The problem is that two years ago our accountants made us sign over 80 per cent of our royalties to Apple,” he said. “We can’t touch any of it, and it’s a ridiculous situation. All the money comes into this little building and it never gets out. If I could get my money out of the company I’d split away and start doing my own projects independently. I’d have much more freedom and we’d all be happier. I still feel part of Apple and The Beatles, and there’s no animosity, but they tend to ignore Yoko and me . 

“For instance, [Radio One DJ] Kenny Everett recently made a promotional record for Apple which was played at the big yearly EMI meeting. It plugged James Taylor, The Iveys and so on, but it didn’t mention the things Yoko and I had been doing. And I think that what we’re doing is a lot more important than James Taylor. Apple seem to be scared of us. They didn’t want to have anything to do with our Two Virgins film, for instance. 

“The Beatles’ wealth is all a myth. The only expensive things I’ve ever owned are my house and cars, and I just haven’t got anything else. Don’t even break even on the films we make, and that worries me.” 

I asked John about his recent evening of films at the ICA. (A selection of John and Yoko ’s films, including Ono’s Bottoms and Lennon’s Self Portrait , which detailed the rise (and fall) of his penis, were shown at the New Cinema Club, Institute Of Contemporary Arts, September 10, 1969.) Why, for instance, did he feel it necessary to make a film like Self Portrait, with its highly controversial content, when Andy Warhol did the same thing years ago with his films Empire State and Sleep ? 

“It’s not like Warhol at all. He’s negative and we’re positive. I can’t stand negative things, and our attitude is completely different. Self Portrait has vibrations of love, and it has an immediate message of humanity. 

“When Yoko showed me her Bottoms film I thought it was ridiculous, but she explained it to me and I was convinced - I don’t remember how. I think it was the humour of the film, and that’s what we try to keep in our films. If we’re going to get these films shown, we’ve got to get into the scene. We’d like to make a film that wasn’t so underground in concept, but we wouldn’t do something like Barbarella or 2001 - although that was a lovely trip. 

“Films are moving ahead so fast - much faster than music or anything else. We’re hoping to have talks with a big production company which I shouldn’t name - oh well, why not, it’s United Artists - who seem to be interested. We’d like to get on at the West End.” 

Yoko, who was sitting by John’s side, chipped in, “We don’t know how to go about it. We’re sussing it out at the moment.” 

John continued, “It’s not like films, it’s more like TV. Dylan was right - it should be less important. Our films, and the Beatles and Stones albums, shouldn’t have so much noise made about them. The process of production is so slow. We’d like to speed the process up, and get a new album and film out every month. For instance, we haven’t been able to get our Wedding film out yet. And the trouble is that people will say we copied Jane Birkin on one track, but we didn’t. It’s just that we couldn’t get ours out fast enough. 

“Most of our films are like portraits. For instance, Smile is simply a portrait of me sending out love vibrations to Yoko, who’s on the other end of the camera. People say it’s boring, but they’ll look at Van Gogh, which doesn’t move at all, and they’ll have it on their walls.” 

I suggested that perhaps the audience at the ICA had been dissatisfied because the environment was wrong. 

“Yes, it would probably be best if people had the film at home and could show it on their walls and look at it when they felt like it. The ICA night was too long- but they asked for five hours of film and that’s what I gave them.” 

Wasn’t the work of John and Yoko coming to resemble an open diary, I asked? And don’t most people keep their diaries in their desks at home? 

“Yes, but who doesn’t like to read other people’s diaries? ” he replied. “That’s exactly what it is-but you must realise that The Beatles’ albums, and Dylan’s for that matter, are all diaries. We’re just bringing it out into the open and making it more honest.” 

Does this theory inevitably lead to disposable works of art? 

“Yes, that’s what we’re aiming at,” said John. “Yoko’s having her book of poetry, Grapefruit, reprinted and at the end there’s an instruction to the reader to eat the book.” 

Yoko added, “When you keep things they become tombstones. The world would be clogged up with useless objects.” 

Have they any new ideas for their well-publicised campaign for peace? “There’s this Peace Ship plan,” said John, “which is very strange because I recently read a book which contained almost exactly the same idea. There was this bloke in a white ship from which he broadcast peace messages, and then when I’d read the book a real guy came to me with the plan for doing it. Someone’s also given me some ideas for doing things in Nigeria and Biafra, but I can’t talk about it at the moment.” 

Does this suggest a more direct involvement with war and peace? “Not really, because I think that what we’ve done already, like staying in bed for peace, has been very direct. It wouldn’t do any good, for instance, if I was to go to Vietnam and get shot. That proves nothing, but it’s what people are always telling me to do. 

“We’re after people’s minds. If we go to see Nixon, for instance, it wouldn’t make him down tools, but we think we could find out what he thinks and tell other people. We’d know where he was at. 

“You can’t change anything by violence. You have to be aggressive, that’s part of everyone and I’m aggressive, but we have the machinery to challenge it. We don’t have to get involved in other people’s games, and I think that all the killers should be allowed to take their tanks into the desert and kill each other off. But I don’t want any part of it, and we’ve got the power to do something about it.�� 

With two albums in the can Abbey Road and Get Back [sic] - would there now be a lull in The Beatles’ recording schedule? 

“The trouble is that we’ve got too much material. Now that George is writing a lot we could put out a double album every month, but they’re so difficult to produce. After Get Back is recorded in January, we’ll probably go back into the studio and record another one. It’s just a shame we can’t get more albums out faster.” 

Richard Williams

Source

#John Lennon #Yoko Ono #The Beatles #peak JohnandYoko #'I'm not wealthy - all I have is my incredibly expensive house' #and carssss #I like the random insult towards Andy Warhol

[obeymeshallwedate-latinplayer]

Traditional costumes (Part 1) (GN!MC)

Hello there my darlings How´s it going? First of all, I must say the following:

OMG YASS! YASS I CAN DO IT!!! There are so many that It´s sad I can only put 11 of them but YES YES I´LL DO IT. I´m actually really excited about this, that we will have to parts of it! 

Second: Thank you!!! Today we are 308 followers!!!! For me having this number of followers it´s still a dream, and I really loved so much the idea of the typical costume, that it will be a 308 followers special divided in 2 parts, welcome to the first part. Thank you for following! I will keep doing my very best!!

Lucifer (Jarocho Veracruz)

Lucifer was walking by, when he saw you taking care of a big white dress, the first thing he thought “A brides dress?” He wasn´t enterally wrong, but he wasn´t right.

He asked you nicely what were you doing and why did you have a bride’s dress. The only thing you could do was laugh, Lucifer might be the all mighty one above the seven brothers, but sometimes he was too naïve. Or maybe that was just your imagination.

He saw the embroidery in the apron that was over the skirt, and he wondered: How many hours it took to do that embroidery?  Even the skirt was way to thick, and sometimes he forgot that humans had many ways to dress up. He touched the fabric, even that red fabric was so beautiful How was it called? Rebozo?

He looked so intrigued that you decided to tell the story about the dress.

“In the colony time, Veracruz were one of the most important ports around the world. Spanish women stayed in Papaloma´s river basin, the wore big old dresses, with thick fabric, but in Veracruz that doesn´t take place, not back then not even now, it´s beach and it has a humid climate. The Spanish and creoles used to dress a colorful skirt and an apron with embroidery flowers, also a shawl with lace, and silk ribbons, even a hand fan, by the other hand, indigenous and mestizas women used to use flowery skirts and blanket blouses with a rebozo and their hair were braided. But the dress of the Spanish and the creoles didn´t work out, the weather was so hot that they simply decided to use cotton and organdy. But I guess, this “new” dress was used for the creoles wedding dress. Now a days is typical to be use in folkloric dances.”

For someone like Lucifer, he didn´t waste a second, and he dreamt, maybe in some years you could use that dress on your wedding day.

Mammon. (Charro Jalisco)

He was sneaking into your room, for sure he was searching something to steal and then sell it, maybe the great Mammom would buy something for you, something nice. His human must use something nice, maybe a necklace. He knew that you kept your precious little something in the closet, so he check it, and oh surprise, that ain´t little.

That was a heavy suit for a human your size, and are those silver buttons? He was actually impressed, he looked to every single detail in the costume, that hat is actually so beautiful that he needed to use it, no matter what, he needed to put that in his head.

That´s why you discover him, he was in front of your mirror, you took a mentally note, he needed a charro suit to, maybe you will teach him the folklore dance. When he heard you laugh he started to blush, saying that he wasn´t doing nothing at all. 

“Mammon. Would you like to hear the story of this suit?” His eyes had that childish sparkle, and he immediately sat in your bed, waiting for the story.

“The charro suit started from decades away, in the colonial time, must say in the XVI century, with a very fine work, with gold and silver buttons, embroidery of golden thread. But, you know, only the wealthy ones could use the accessories, the intelligent ones, would make their owns, with maybe some paint, and creating the best suit of them all, just like the saying says. “El charro de cuero se viste, por ser lo que más resiste”.   Now a days mariachis and dancers use it, and also some horse riders for exhibitions. “

Mammon was as happy as a child, he needed that suit from old centuries, maybe Lucifer had one.

Leviathan (Azteca Tenochtitlán (This city does not longer exist, it´s not even a state) ) 

  Levi was sitting in the living room, when he heard something, were does bells? No way that noise wasn´t a bell one, it was more like a bone sound, so he followed the sound, and there you where, in the garden, with your full costume, dancing for the gods and for practice, you didn´t want to forget the dance your ancestors made so many centuries away.

When you felt the presence of him you turned around and smiled at him. “Levi, do you like my Hueseras? My grandpa made them for me! Aren´t them cute? Oh maybe you prefer the penacho? It´s so hard to find the Quetzal feathers.” He just stopped breathing, you looked just like that final boss of the game: “Trying to avoid to be a sacrifice for the Gods and keeping my heart on my chest.”

He just nodded, after that a big silence started between the two of you. So you decided to keep dancing, and he was just there watching you, with stars in his eyes, and you decided to tell him the story about the clothing,

“Before the conquest, my ancestors used to use beautiful clothing, with animal skin and feathers of birds, they made each outfit for each person in the social pyramid, the Tlatoani used the Penachos, also some bishops did it too, and head military ones, usually the military were decorated with  gold and seashells, and a difficult headpieces, women if they weren´t in the high society used to use Huipiles and Quexquémitl, with skirts and natural pigments.”

Levi was amazed, just like in his game, but this time he needed a translator to understand those words you said, he wanted to use one of them too.

“Now, how about I teach you how to dance.”

Satan.  (Traje elegante Nuevo León) 

Satan had been invited to an opening from a new restaurant in Devildom, sometimes he would ask himself if it was fine for him to go alone for this type of events. Today he wanted to take you out for a nice dinner. Formal clothing, or that´s what it says in the invitation, well you had the fanciest clothing in the whole world just in your closet, so you took it out, you prepared yourself and you were ready to go. The avatar of wrath didn´t mention a thing, although you clothing of tonight was stunning and tons of looks were on you that night, after few drinks, and you telling every demon, that the mezcal of your country was ten times better than the drink in the Devildom, some of those demons actually asked. “Why are you in a custom?” Oh dear, not even Satan could make something when you picked the microphone. “Demons, this ain´t a costume, now, sit and listen to the story of this magnificent outfit. It all started in the colonial age in Mexico, Nuevo León did not had that extraordinary change from the conquest, actually the indigenous were nomads and we don´t have much of their cultural information.  Women and men needed to have a hard character. In 1960 the dress maker Ramón Validosera made this beautiful suit for all of us, in 1970 it was one of the most important yet one of the greatest folkloric costumes in Mexico. This suit was made for the ones that will work hard enough in the fields, even though the women one is more complex than the male one.” After the explanation they stopped watching you with smirks in their faces, they actually asked if you could take a photo with them. When the party was over, Satan took your hand and escort you back to the house. “You didn´t mention that the suit was made for a beer festival”. He told you, and you laugh. “It wasn’t necessary. And it will be our secrete.”

Asmo ( China poblana Puebla)

Asmo had this epiphany, he had seen a folkloric dance of Mexico so long ago, and he just remembered it, he was sitting in one of the library armchairs, watching an old photo album, wondering if you were in the house, he started to seek you. When he heard you in Levi´s room he took you away.

“Mc! You are from Puebla, right?” You made a silent nod. “So, do you own one of the folkloric dress?” The question leaves you thinking. “I guess, but is in the human realm.” With those words Asmo actually begged Lucifer for authorization to go into the human realm.

When you arrived into your house, Asmo asked you nicely if you could tell him all about the dress. “Well, the story starts in the Colonial age, the legend says, that a chines woman was sold as a slave, but ended up in the hands of the richest. Actually she wasn´t chines nor from Puebla, she was a princes from Mongolia, but they were in a war so she was captured and sold as a slave, from hand to hand was sold, just like Malinche, anyway she found a good person that protected her, and then she married a merchant in Puebla, after that she lived until her 70´s. Her clothing was so beautiful and weird for the age, in one part beautiful Indigenous colors and in the other Spanish silk, with big ornaments in her hair. After some years they improve the dress, It consists of a white short-sleeved shirt, low on the chest, made of fine cotton embroidered with various colorful motifs. The skirt is a long skirt of thick fabric in dark red, with embroidery on the front that reproduce the national symbols: the eagle devouring the serpent perched on a cactus, or the Aztec calendar. The outfit is completed by a fine silk shawl in the tones of the colors of our national flag; and the one that requires the bun braided with tricolor bows, several necklaces of paper beads and large gold earrings.”

When you finished the story Asmo was tearing, a poor young woman who was sold by a men, but she found true love, was just, too beautiful.

After that he made you use the dress and well, the rest is story.

Let´s learn some Spanish and more than that:

Malinche: Indigenous women that helped Hernán Cortés for the conquest in Mexico. And it´s also a volcanos name, so be careful when you talk about her, you might be talking about the volcano. 

Huaseras: Bells that are included in the aztec dance, also known as: Ayoyotl. 

Penacho: Set of raised feathers that certain birds have on top of their heads

Quetzal: Bird from Mexico, in Nahuatl the name means long tail of bright feathers. 

Tlatoani: Head of the Aztec society, something like a president. 

El charro de cuero se viste, por ser lo que más resiste” :  The leather charro dresses, for being the thing that resists the most

Rebozo: Shawl or cloak of cotton, wool or silk of various colors, used by some village women to cover their heads, shoulders, chest and back as a coat; It is also used to wrap and carry a child.

#obeyme #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me headcanons #obey me asmodeus #Obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke

[gloombeauty]

In spite of her split with White, she will not be upping sticks from the south. “Nashville is home now,” she says, “although I still have a place in New York, and I do travel a lot for work. There are several homes, I suppose.” I really do think that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and I think I’ve come out of it all very grown-up She has admitted that arriving in Tennessee was like landing on Mars — it’s all a very long way from Oldham, where, growing up, she was teased for being gangly and gawky, and her unusual features were the subject of ridicule. The Ghost Who Walked is one of the nicer nicknames attached to Elson when she was a pale, long-limbed 12-year-old. At 16, she was discovered by a model scout while shopping in Manchester. Her mother — who split from Elson’s father when she and her twin sister, Kate, now a film-maker, were seven — was supportive, and Elson had few doubts about leaving the northwest behind. On her 18th birthday, the photographer Steven Meisel persuaded her to shave her Just like her (now-ex) husband, and father of her children, the musical heavyweight Jack White, who stood by her when she decided to make a foray into the music business. “Initially, I felt intimidated — of course I did. I didn’t ever want Jack to think, ‘Oh, God, how am I going to break it to her that she really shouldn’t be doing this?’” So she wrote her songs in secret, and sang them to herself in her walk-in wardrobe. “I kept it all hidden for so long that it sort of became my dirty little secret,” she says. In the event, White heard her singing as he passed by on his way to the bathroom. “He said, ‘I believe in you; here’s this studio [in the garden of their Nashville home], let’s go and record it.’” The album’s lyrics and guitar parts are all Elson’s own work; White arranged the rest.

The pair are no longer collaborating so closely, however: with typically bohemian panache, they announced their divorce in June via a party invitation to their nearest and dearest. The quirky card read: “Karen Elson and Jack White kindly request the presence of [GUEST] at a party to celebrate their sixth anniversary and upcoming divorce, with a true swing, bang humdinger. Please help us celebrate together this anniversary of the making and breaking of the sacred union of marriage with our best friends and animals.”

It was an unconventional way of uncoupling, and speaks volumes about their relationship. “Jack is a dear, dear friend and I admire and love him to bits,” she says earnestly, declining to reveal the details of the humdinger. There obviously aren’t any bad feelings, though — the former couple were recently photographed together by Terry Richardson at the party for Kate Moss and Jamie Hince’s nuptials. “It was a really great party, of course,” says Elson of the two-day event in the Cotswolds countryside, “and it was such an incredible wedding, completely filled with love. Kate looked beautiful and Jamie looked fantastic, too.” The question everyone wants answered, though, is who, of the all-star guest list, was the last to bed? “I’m afraid I was one of the first,” Elson says, “so I don’t really know.”

Elson and White met in 2005, when she was asked to appear in the video for the White Stripes single Blue Orchid. A month later, they were married by a shaman, in a canoe, on a river in Brazil. Meg White, Jack’s band-mate and ex-wife, was matron of honour, and the couple set up house in Nashville. For the past six years, Elson’s home has been a converted civil-war era hospital, filled with White’s taxidermy collection, which includes a stuffed giraffe in the hall. As well as the out-there ornaments, the couple had a vegetable patch, went on family hikes, and hung out with their network of musical friends. And, when not travelling for work (when White would stay at home to look after the children), Elson’s routine was that of any working mother: “Wake up the kids, have breakfast with them, take them off to nursery”; then, in recent times, “Go into the studio and sing your heart out.”

In spite of her split with White, she will not be upping sticks from the south. “Nashville is home now,” she says, “although I still have a place in New York, and I do travel a lot for work. There are several homes, I suppose.” I really do think that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and I think I’ve come out of it all very grown-up She has admitted that arriving in Tennessee was like landing on Mars — it’s all a very long way from Oldham, where, growing up, she was teased for being gangly and gawky, and her unusual features were the subject of ridicule. The Ghost Who Walked is one of the nicer nicknames attached to Elson when she was a pale, long-limbed 12-year-old. At 16, she was discovered by a model scout while shopping in Manchester. Her mother — who split from Elson’s father when she and her twin sister, Kate, now a film-maker, were seven — was supportive, and Elson had few doubts about leaving the northwest behind. On her 18th birthday, the photographer Steven Meisel persuaded her to shave her eyebrows, hack off her hair and dye the brutal bob a bright cherry red, for a shoot.

The image, which became the cover of Vogue Italia, catapulted her into the modelling premier league, but although she had escaped the taunts of the school bullies, the fashion world also labelled her a freak. It can’t have been easy, especially for someone whose self-image was already fragile. In 2002, Elson wrote a first-person piece for Vogue, “One model’s battle with anorexia”, describing the eating disorder she had suffered from since the age of seven. Scrutinised for her appearance, she confessed to starving herself, taking laxatives and being bulimic.

Today, Elson is slim yet healthy-looking, and seemingly comfortable in her pale, flawless skin. “People who know me know I am a woman who is strong, who is very sure of herself,” she agrees. “I really do think that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and I think I’ve come out of it all very grown-up.” The turning point came when a former boyfriend, Raphael de Rothschild, died from a heroin overdose in 2000, and she realised that she, too, was on a self-destructive path. The 10th anniversary of his death last year was also one of the motivating factors in finally getting her to spread her musical wings — she wanted to leave her own legacy for her kids.

Having been away from Oldham for 16 years now, Elson says she does miss its earthiness, and the British sense of humour. And if Scarlett and Henry are lucky, they’ll get another legacy, too. “You can’t beat a good, solid, no-nonsense northern upbringing,” she says, “from people you’ll never impress, who are always, like, ‘Who do you think you are?’”

#2013 #karen elson #jack white

[rlxtechoff]

#IFTTT #Blogger

[kaajukatli]

#SHOWYOURPROCESS

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

Jay @hisboofromlondon Tagged me to show my process for this edit.

RULES - When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag up to 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours.

1. Planning

This gifset is a part of my walls x the untamed series because i in my opinion the album and the show go well together. The planning usually consists of me telling rie about the scenes i think suit the lyrics and if they’ve got something better, a second opinion is always good. so shoutout to him

2. Creation

So i don’t have the psds of those gifs but i’ll try my best to show how i made those gifs. 

I am not gonna talk about the general process of gif making(if someone wants that i can make a post or give you a link) . I used the fonts Agency fb and signatria(i downloaded this one). The 1st,second and the 5th gif are just normal gifs with texts and yk normal colouring.In 1st,4th and 5th gif i also combined two gifs so i can have a shot of both wwx and lwj.

In the text of third gif i applied colour dodge on the text and a black and white effect.

In the text fourth gif i applied the lighten effect so that it appears that the words tasted is disappearing behind wwx and lwj. Also a normal back and white effect.

In the text for the last gif i used the difference effect. With black and white. This one is also like kinda my fav with reds and blues AND HANDSS!!

3.Posting

Posting isn't anything special. Just make sure the lyrics are all in order and post!!

@hlhome28 also tagged me for this mb (than you for tagging me and i am sorry i added it in this i just don’t have much to say and i don’t remember much abt it ahshs)

1.Planning

There was zero planning involved i just watched a lot of bollywood classics from the 90′s and the 00′s and most of them are so heavily centered aroung weddings i was like what if..... it was initially supposed to be a series of mbs with all wedding rituals ahsh but due to my shit memory and men tall eel ness it was abandoned (abandoned but never forgotten who am i kidding rip)

the rest of it was usual mb stuff get pictures tweak them a little arrange them nicely.

Tagging: @badreputatiom for this lovely edit

@secondwifee for the larry/wangxian mb u made it was beautiful i can’t find the link (sorry)

@lt2mybeloved​ for this beautiful mb

@wuxien​ for this amazing edit 

#showyourprocess #i took so long and it still is soo shit #i didn't have the psds i am sorry this is just absolutely bleh

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Going on Sixty

Dean’s fifty eight. 

He’s pushing sixty, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s pushing as hard as his back allows - but it doesn’t seem to be working, and if he’d had a stick - though he doesn’t need one, thankyouverymuch - he would’ve been using it too.  

And it’s not just the number. 

He’s old. 

Bobby Singer’s words have never rung truer, and that man has said plenty of wise things in his life. “Old age is both - forgetting things like a drunk, and hurting all over like you’re sober.” It’s ridiculous. Dean won’t vouch for having had a brilliant brain before, but he didn’t used to forget why he went into the next room, he’s quite sure.

And, oh lord, his bones. His joints creak when he sits, and he wishes he’d given older hunters less shit for it when they’d all been whining in chorus about their goddamn hips. He gets sick easy too - Sam, the ever smart-ass says his immunity is as trash as the meals he’d have when he was thirty. He might be right. When it’s flu season, he wheezes like he might cough his heart out; and he’s sure anyone who hears him is positively scared about it too.

So, there. He’s old, and he’s grey, and he’s slow, and he’s grumpy. 

But hell, is he happy. 

Everyday, he wakes up on a mattress that’s known him for just the perfect span of time, under a white, fleecy comforter; all seasons of the year because they’re settled in Key West - who set their bets on Florida, ‘twasn’t him - and he wakes up next to the man he loves. 

Cas is either curled around him, hands tucked around his middle, or he’s cuddled up, pressed to Dean’s front, and Dean gets to wake up hugging him close, leg slot between his, and his nose in Cas’s hair - which frankly, he’s gotten so used to, that it doesn’t even make him sneeze anymore. 

And then they wake up - Dean mostly second; and breakfasts are cooked and coffees are made, newspapers are fetched and kisses are shared, until dressed in fresh clothes to go mostly nowhere in particular, he finds himself seated across Cas on their little table for two - they’d reasoned family meals are more fun on the patio anyway, and ninety percent of the time, it’s really only just them.

And every day, Dean thinks about how lucky he is, and it mostly happens while he’s staring at Cas unabashedly as the beautiful, wrinkled man solves the crosswords, and writes his lists on less printed pages to conserve paper.

Days pass slow, but years are always in a hurry - they’ve been married sixteen years, already. It had all Sam’s doing, that one, he’d never meant to have a grand big day out, with white linen tablecloths and calla lilies and a goddamn wedding photographer.

But he doesn’t need those pictures to remember. Cas, in his cobalt tuxedo, and Dean in his black blazer - both walked up the aisle because either one of them doing it had sounded unfair. He remembers the vows, the dances, and the kiss. It had been everything he hadn’t known he wished for, and he’d cried that into Sam’s shoulder a week after, when Sam brought homethe gigantic album from the studio. That day, he’d gotten to bring Cas home, and make honest men of themselves, he remembered saying - and then, they’d moved into their house together, husband and husband.

The house is close to where Sam teaches, close enough to the shelters they volunteer at twice a week, and at walkable distance from the diners, movies and parks. They have a library debossed in a wall, a garden at the back, and a study for where Dean and Cas alternate taking calls, pretending to be the FBI. 

It’s perfect.

And Dean Winchester’s happier than he’d ever been - and it sucks, because it doesn’t really seem to count. Because now, he’s old.

*

The troubles started slow, as you’d expect them to do.

Dean misplaced the keys to the Impala one fine evening when they’d planned in advance to go play pool and darts at Wren’s. He’d found them at Sam’s, the next day. And if he hadn’t been as busy as he was, correcting Cas whenever he called it ‘losing’ the keys, because he’d ‘known they were at Sammy’s, dammit’ - he would’ve given more thought to how that had been the very start of a long line of similar mishaps.

A particularly embarrassing once, he’d forgotten the other side of the grocery list when he’d gone out - Cas had justifiably nagged him about the lack of oranges, post-it pads, and condoms for the rest of the day.

Once, he got so utterly exhausted performing Baby’s monthly maintenance routine, he fell asleep - and Cas just assumed he was staying over at a friend’s and had forgotten to inform him, so Dean spent the entire night and then some, in the garage.

Yeah, because he slept ten frigging hours a day now.

Dean occasionally complains how it’s happening all wrong for him, because this stuff’s supposed to start at eighty! And Sam and Cas both shine their intellectual scowls at him, and he’s told that he’s been mislead. Cas goes on to add, with a smirk, that since Dean hadn’t exactly allowed himself to age till forty two - when they finally took down Chuck and bowed out of the game - it might be a way for his body to compensate for the delay then. Dean tells Cas then that he’ll make him sleep on the couch, and Sam points out that it’s not Cas who develops a crick in his back from that, and Dean declares that he hates them both.

If someone had told him - and honestly drilled it into his head too, that exercise at thirty would mean surviving at sixty, he would’ve fucking joined his brother on his smug-faced morning runs. He still wouldn’t have yoga’d, to be completely truthful, but he could’ve fucking ran. (Though, he wasn’t sixty yet. That was far, far away.)

But the point stood as it did. Dean felt multiple times the old Cas seemed to be, and especially on the times he messed up and Cas turned even more thoughtful and nice - he has to seriously resist the urge to pull a Crowley and tell his ridiculously understanding husband that he has no idea what old feels like.

Except he isn’t a hypocrite, and theoretically, Castiel is older than mankind, and Jimmy’s older than Dean.

*

A day just so, when Dean’s home and Cas is gone visiting Claire at her new place - she’d moved in with Kaia only last month, after dating for more than a decade, with a quiet, beautiful wedding in the backyard, so Cas had taken with him a waffle maker to keep up the tradition of wedding gifts in their family - and Dean’s sat by himself on the porch contemplating the nature of being old as crap and acting like it, he’s struck with a horrifying thought. 

He hadn’t realized it yet, but all the things he’d been doing wrong, have been affecting his relationship with Cas, somehow. 

The keys? They’d had to postpone a date, that Dean couldn’t even remember them going on later. It wasn’t his fault, but Cas had had a busy week. The condoms? Well, go figure that one. The sleeping in the garage? He’d smelled so much of motor oil that even he couldn’t be disgusting enough to lean in for a kiss the next morning. 

Perfect. So, it hasn’t been enough to ruin Dean’s dignity and his sense of normalcy. The ghost of two-years-to-sixty had to mess with the best thing in his life, too. 

Though, he reasons, Cas has been nothing but accommodating all those times - well, except for when he’s a smartass about it.

Mostly, he just tries to convince Dean that it doesn’t matter, really, and that he understands - but it just irks Dean further. It isn’t fair that Cas can still walk at the same ex-angelic-pace from before, or that he doesn’t have colds and acid refluxes. He’s happy that Cas doesn’t suffer, of course he is - but it doesn’t seem fair. 

Cas might be aging with him, but he isn’t growing old. 

Instead, while Dean developed body aches and lines on his face, he’d just developed more pronounced crowfeet from the ever increasing smiles, and it just made him more beautiful. And he’d widened some, but Dean just likes that more. 

Cas doesn’t forget keys, or sexy items on the Walmart list, or any of the shit Dean pulls. He doesn’t do things which might compromise their time together, or date nights. 

Dean’s the one who does that. 

He can’t believe he hasn’t noticed it before. He shudders at the thought of becoming like one of those old married guys who stop putting a goddamn effort - because he knows he’s grateful for the life he lives, everyday. Getting married to Cas is one of the best things that have ever happened to him. But does Cas know? Does Cas remember? Dean loves him, but he’s hardly able to show it anymore. He can hardly plan elaborate and adventurous dates, and he certainly can’t orgasm thrice in a night. He’s old, and he knows Cas gets it, but does Cas get it?

Suddenly very troubled, Dean takes another sip from his beer. 

As the years passed by, his tolerance for alcohol has gone lower. It even tastes bitter, going down his throat. 

Old age just became exponentially worse. 

*

The last straw is something as inconsequential as a backache is at this age, and as horrid as one too.

Watching Netflix’s Queer Eye in the living room, they’d fallen asleep on the couch, in the middle of the day. Their white settee isn’t large enough for them both to lie down, but they’ve managed to settle pretty comfortably, and it doesn’t even feel like they’ve had to squeeze in, because Dean gets to have his hand around Cas, who has his head rested on Dean’s left shoulder.

The episode is long over, and owing to autoplay, Dean wakes up to the Fab Five spending the week with a completely different person altogether; and Cas stirs too, and lifts his head from Dean’s chest, having migrated downwards to hug his hips, and -

“Fuck.” Dean winces. The loss of weight had allowed his spine to straighten mostly, and a sharp pain shot through his back. He has to fight his tongue to not swear again, because Cas is looking at him concerned - albeit, still drowsy.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, in a sleep-roughened pitch, and Dean tries to focus on that instead on his back. How wonderful Cas sounds, and sure he does, but - holyshit, his back.

“It’s - I’m good, Cas.” Dean placates, trying not to speak through his teeth, still trying to ignore the pain.

“Did we really fall asleep at three in the afternoon?” Cas smiles at him, and his eyes are bright and eyebrows are up. “I’m surprised at us, Dean.” He adds, in a not very surprised tone, and scoots upwards to Dean’s level.

The pressure helps a little bit, only enough for Dean to screw his eyes shut and kiss back.

Cas is slow, soft and warm. He is half draped over Dean’s front, and cupping Dean’s face with both his hands like he wants to take his sweet time kissing today - like he has nowhere else to be, and Dean knows he doesn’t, and he wishes to dedicate all his time to Dean’s lips and Dean goddamn wants him to, too.

It’s been some time since they made out like this. It’s leading to no where - of course it isn’t, they aren’t monkeys who do it on the couch anyone; it’s just what it is, it’s very in the moment, and it’s one of Dean’s favorite things to do. Except right now, he’s not in the moment. 

He tries to return the best he can, letting an arm fall over Cas, and move his lips in sync with his. Cas is adequately pleased to be the one leading, and makes a happy, contented sound as his tongue enters Dean’s mouth.

And it feels wonderful, but Dean’s back still hurts, in spite of the weight now, which means there’s really no easy way out of this.

Cas chooses that moment to let go of Dean’s face, and his left hand trails under Dean, while the right one moves up into his hair. “Dean.” He sighs, and it’s so perfectly gorgeous, that Dean begs for it to stop hurting, so he can start enjoying too, because they haven’t kissed like this in a while, and he’s missed it.

There hasn’t been a reason to not do it - they’ve obviously kissed good morning and good night, but this is still the fortnight Dean forgot the lube and condoms so they haven’t had sex, and now that Dean thinks about it, his back has been showing signs of impending doom, as well as -

“I love you,” Cas breathes out, still nice and tender on him, and his mouth still engrossed in kissing him. 

“I -” Dean looks at Cas, sleepy blue eyes and soft, shaven cheeks, engrossed so completely in Dean - and feels an overwhelming wave of lucky again. “I love you.”

Shit, the least he can do is give Cas what he’s asking for - his back could be tended to, some other time. He’s been a hunter all his life. If he can’t even kiss his husband back without thinking about his aching back, what has he even been doing?

He stops thinking entirely, and gives himself up to making Cas feel good - he hums under his breath like he knows Cas likes to feel on his lips, and tugs Cas closer, and he almost feels better himself, until Cas’s wandering hand somehow snakes to the exact spot Dean’s pain is focused on, and as Cas groans, he presses, and -

“Fuck!” He cries out, almost yells, leaping a good inch off the couch. Cas is on his feet almost instantly, kiss swollen lips now frowning in earnest, studying Dean.

“Was that -” Cas pauses. “Is that an erogenous zone you’ve newly developed, and not told me about?” He asks, and he’s frank is all that matters. “Did you -” His eyes track lower along Dean’s body, where his member is definitely perking to attention, newly so under Cas’s curious stare.

“What? No.” Dean flushes, at the idea of coming in his pants like a horny teenager, from perhaps the most innocent drawn-out kiss he’s ever shared with Cas. Only because he’s been thinking about his back, that is. 

“It’s -” He almost tells Cas. Then he remembers the way Cas had looked at Dean, how much he’d wanted this, and how long it’d been. “It’s nothing. Just got reminded of something, or…whatever. Come back.”

Cas squints at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Dean swats He still doesn’t dare to move his spine though, because after he’d sprung up in pain from Cas’s hand brushing the area, he’d managed to find a spot where he wasn’t quite feeling the pain.

Cas continues to squint.

“C'mere.” Dean motions, and makes the mistake of turning towards him to persuade Cas with full-blown puppy eyes, which usually work - because another bout of pain shoots through him, and he visibly squirms.

“Backache.” Cas declares, crossing his arms on his chest. “You have a backache.”

“S'no big deal.” Dean shakes his head.

“Okay.” Cas agrees, and sits down on the couch next to Dean, but not touching him anymore. Dammit. Cas had wanted to kiss him, wanted to keep kissing him, and Dean hadn’t even been able to get kissed. He was a complete moron, and now he knew he wouldn’t be able to get Cas to return to the kissing, till he’d dealt with the situation. 

“Tell me where.” Cas demands.

“I said it’s not a -”

“Falling asleep on the couch must’ve triggered it. You’ve been stiff since Thursday.” Cas notes, ignoring him. “I’m going to shift the TV to the bedroom tonight. You’ll help me with the plugs and the chords, you always know how to get the wires right. Now, can you walk?” Dean opens his mouth to protest that he doesn’t want to, because all he wants to do is sit on that couch, and have Cas on top, kissing him. “Because if you can’t, I’ll have to pick you up and put you on the couch which can be pulled into a bed, and you can stretch out.”

“Cas.” Dean whines.

“Dean.” Cas replies, matter-of-factly. Dean can’t tell if he’s pissed because Dean’s killed the mood by getting a stupid backache, or because Dean didn’t tell about it before.

Who’s he kidding, though? This is Cas. It’s the latter.

“Well, I haven’t tried to walk yet.” Dean finally gives in. Cas smiles, and it’s not a triumphant smile, Dean must have imagined it. But the fond twinkle in his eyes, he couldn’t have imagined.

Cas gives him a hand in getting up, and hooks Dean’s arm around his own shoulder to mostly drag him into bed. He plants Dean on his side, almost with a nonexistent grunt, and rewards him with another smile.

“Lie down. On your front, if you can.” He instructs. “I’ll come back with some ointment. Do you need help flipping to your front?”

“Y'know, you may wear a coat all the time, but you’re not a doctor.” Dean’s only trying to be annoying because Cas is a goddamn dream, and it is a miracle he loves Dean, so Dean must test his patience to make up for it. 

“I used to be able to heal - I think I’m close enough to one.” Cas replies, if a bit sad. “And if nothing else, I’ll kneel next to you, and rub the ointment into your back.”

Dean involuntarily sighs at the thought of that, because while the change in setting is helping, it still hurts like a bitch. And a massage sounds like heaven, right now.

But he realizes instantly after, how he just sighed at that thought like an nineteenth century actress, and grumbles. “Never thought I’d be this happy about a massage. And it’s not even a sexy massage.”

“I’ll have to take your shirt off. I could take my shirt off too,” Cas offers, from the other room, and now he’s moved on to the part where he’s snarky about it instead of kind. “We’ll bag the sexy, don’t you worry.”

“Shuddup. I’ll be lying on my front, anyways. Won’t even get to see ya.” Dean’s cranky, but Cas’s laugh comes across the hallway to him and makes him smile. Cas walks back into the room, sporting a smirk, as he unbuttons his shirt and gestures at Dean to flip over. Dean steals a proper glance. He gets to look at Cas everyday, naked if he wants to, but Cas never stops looking good to him. He’s got the toned abdomen, though you can’t see the formerly well-defined abs. Plus, he’s got chest hair, and there’s his pecs, and the shoulders, and his collarbones - and Dean has a flashback of the time he drunkenly confessed that he’d totally sleep with him, even if he hadn’t been around to see the coverboy model looks he’d had before, or even if he wasn’t the best man Dean had ever known, just because of those arms. 

So, sulking, but without his heart in it, Dean adds. “Sixty six’s not your fucking prime, you massive show-off.”

“Ouch.” Cas deadpans, and it’s not even funny, but Dean just loves his wisecracking idiot so much, so he laughs.

*

But this episode just reaffirms his fears. This newly-old thing is really trying to fuck up his marriage. That stupid backache - which subsided the next day, because Cas’s fingers are magic, and not just when they’re around Dean’s dick or up his ass - had cut into his quality time with Cas. He doesn’t want to let another old-person problem interrupt his time with Cas. He can’t possibly keep this up. 

Even if he has to put in more of an effort, he’s going to make it through this. 

*

“Say, Cas.” 

Cas raises his eyebrows as means of asking Dean to go on. 

“Wanna go out with me friday?” Dean proposed, putting on his most charming smile. Cas looks at him properly, as if analysing his face. Dean reruns his own words through his head, and suddenly realizes how much he sounds like they’re both in highschool. That’s what you say to the cute guy you have a crush on in the boy’s locker room. Or, in the case of Dean’s very heterosexual adolescence, the chick you share fries with in the lunch hall. In any case, it’s not what you say to your husband, suddenly and without preamble, when you’re both in the same bed, having ice cream for dessert while you watch Bohemian Rhapsody.

But Cas’s smile lights up his entire face, when he answers Dean. “Of course, Dean.” And he proceeds to slip a little closer to the middle, so that Dean can have his arm around him while they watch the movie. Dean feels a warmth blooming in his insides as well. Maybe the old thing won’t ruin this for him, after all. He can still make it right. 

“It’s a date.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand. 

“I thought so too.” Cas replies, and Dean can hear his amused smile in his voice. It’s wonderful. 

“Good.” Dean beams. “I’ll meet you in the living room at seven.” After changing clothes beside you in the bedroom at six thirty, he doesn’t add, because it sounds cheesier this way, and one thing Dean’s always loved about Cas, is that the guy really does dig the textbook chick-flick moments. Almost enough that he converts Dean into it. 

*

It’s a goddamn wonder that he doesn’t look as old as he feels, Dean thinks, adjusting his tie in the bathroom mirror. He can’t remember the last time he had to wear one.

He may have wrinkles now, but when he smiles, they look just like the smile lines he’s had since forty. Got to smile more then, he notes, grinning at the mirror, and feeling satisfied with the results. 

He’s wearing a blue shirt, which is a much lighter color than Cas’s eyes are - he’s not even trying to be cheesy, but when you spend all your time looking at your husband’s spectacular eyes, you develop tendencies to compare it to everything else blue you see. And he’s trying out a new-ish fad, and wearing a tie without a blazer. It’s too hot for a blazer. But Cas likes him in ties, so he’s wearing the one Cas got him for his fifty sixth birthday.

It’s indigo, with grey stripes. Cas is wearing grey, he knows. He caught a peak when Cas picked it out of their closet. He likes that shirt.

Dean looks at himself one last time.

For all his whining, he can still clean up nice. He marches out of the bathroom, feeling a little proud of himself, and excited to find Cas. Sure, blame him for wanting to see Cas’s reaction when he checks him out.

He reaches the living room, and is stunned, momentarily. "Cas.“ He just says, without meaning to. The word rolls off his tongue, like it does a thousand times each day, and Cas turns towards him. 

He is in the grey shirt Dean anticipated, but he hadn’t been prepared for how it looked on him, and he’s rolled it up to his elbows in just the way Dean’s told him multiple times he likes - and he’s wearing jeans instead of trousers, and he’s done something to his hair that Dean has no time to process, because Cas is soon walking up to him, and Dean’s definitely losing his peripheral vision too now, fucking presbyopia - or maybe all his eyes want to do is focus on the eyes, and tune all else out.

He has no time thinking about Cas’s reaction on seeing him, not when Cas looks like this, does he?

“Good eve - Okay, hi.” Dean abruptly ends, eyes widened, as Cas reaches him, stopping unbelievably close. It’s stupid how he’s literally done everything there is to do, with this man - and his proximity still gets Dean flustered sometimes. 

“Good evening. You look breathtaking.” Cas tells him, having to look just the little bit up to meet his eyes. 

“Well, I - uh, we still got it.” Dean corrects, leaning downwards to close the gap. Cas hadn’t been expecting it - why not, Dean has no idea; but it’s fun to take him by surprise as Cas slowly melts into the sensations, and Dean only pulls away for air. 

He’s never going to get tired of kissing this man. He’s never going to have had enough. Even if it had been all he did in all of his life, till the day he breathes his last, it’s not going to be enough. Dean’s gonna get old and Cas is not, because he might not be immortal anymore, but he never learnt to start aging - and Dean’s gonna wither and fucking die someday, and all things in the world are gonna get old, but kissing Castiel? That’s never going to get old. 

Cas inhales slowly, deeply, and looks at Dean in that particular way which he reserves for Dean. Dean really fucking loves it.

“I thought we were going to go out.” He says, and the teasing is loud and clear. Dean almost gives in too. As if he’d turn down an offer to stay back in bed with him. 

“Yeah, but we aren’t roleplaying a first date.” Dean says, instead, his upstairs brain getting the better of his downstairs one. “We’re still going to be married. We still get to kiss.”

“Then why was I looking up icebreakers, earlier?” Cas grins back. 

“Because you’re a weird, dorky little guy.” Dean offers, but pulls back too. The further away he stands from Cas, the lesser is the risk of them not being able to make it to the date.

“I’m hardly little.” Cas looks satisfied enough by pointing that out, to not respond to more, and instead goes to pick up his trenchcoat. “Are we leaving now?”

“Sure, big guy.” Dean rolls his eyes. He puts on his own coat, having to stretch his back to get in it. It’s a pleasant surprise, but none of his body parts are aching presently. He’s hoping it stays this way. “I’ll drive the car out to the front. Wait outside for me?”

Cas nods, and Dean goes. He settles in the driving seat, and slides his hands down the cover of the steering wheel. “You ready to charm my date for me, Baby?” He mutters, affectionately, as the engine roars to life and soon subsides to a purr as he drives it out of the garage.

Cas gets in next to him.

“That’s fresh air.” He points out.

“I know.” Dean grins at him, sideways.

“You used an air freshener.” Cas adds. “In your car.” He pauses, as if to process. “This doesn’t smell like the house either. You used a car freshener.”

“I know.”

“You must really love me very much,” Cas jokes, and Dean’s stomach almost drops because hell, that was quick. And of course he does, kind of why he orchestrated the entire thing. He doesn’t know what to say, so he does the one-shoulder-shrug - the universal sign for, I guess.

Cas ducks his head at that, and it’s all sorts of adorable. “So.” He starts, as Dean starts to drive. “Will you tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ve had plenty of time to ask me before,” Dean remarks. “I know you like being surprised. Are you sure you want me to tell you, or is this just one of the icebreakers Buzzfeed taught you?”

Cas chuckles. “Both? And I’m not an amateur. I used Bustle.”

“Well,” Dean grins back. “It’s this newish continental place, near the bowling alley we went to on my last birthday. I looked it up on the internet after hearing of it from various sources, and they have pretty good reviews. We’ll have to try the thukpa.”

“Then we shall do so.” Cas answers.

“Yeah, place is real busy too.”

“Oh.” Cas bobs his head. “What time did you book for us?”

“Yeah, funny thing, I had a problem getting - oh, son of a bitch!” Dean suddenly pauses, horrified. The car swerves as he realizes, and stops thinking entirely. Then he’s pulling over, taking an acute turn from the middle of the road, and Cas is staring at him, trying to figure out the cause for the strange behavior. Nothing had happened on the road.

“Fuck!” He swears, still gripping the wheel. Cas is beginning to panic, asking Dean what’s wrong, on repeat. Dean doesn’t know where to begin. Horrified at himself, absolutely whitening rage - he turns to glare at Cas, though he’s only furious at himself.

“Fuck.” He repeats, for emphasis. “I forgot to make the fucking reservations.”

*

Dean storms into their house, having parked the Impala on the road, trusting Cas to follow. He keeps up, indeed, constantly asking Dean what was up with him. Dean unlocks their door frustratedly, and prances inside.

“Please sit.” He motions, waving his arm in the direction of the couch.

“We could just have driven around!” Cas protests. “Dean, I get that you’re irritated at yourself, but -”

“No.” Dean states, flatly. He sits gingerly down on the armrest of a couch, as Cas takes the other sofa. “I need to do this. We need to talk.”

For a fraction of a second, Cas’s eyes widen, and they’re a little bit worried. Frightened. It must be the pop culture affiliations that phrase has.

Dean leaps to correct himself. “No! Not like that - Never like that. You’re perfect, Cas.” He sighs. “You’re everything I could ask for.”

“And you’re upset about that.” Cas points out, blinking.

“No, idiot. I’m fucking thrilled. But I’m not.”

“So, you’re thrilled, and you’re also not thrilled.” Cas repeats, squinting at him now. Cas is leaning towards him, and Dean gets up from the armrest, and begins to walk around, to avoid Cas’s eyes.

“No. I am thrilled. I’m just not everything you could ask for.” Dean admits, with resignation. He’s tried to fight it, he’s tried to be better, he’s tried everything, but he’s old and pathetic and cannot even keep Cas assured that he loves him - as was just exhibited. He’s been doing everything wrong, for everything right that Cas does.

Cas opens his mouth to say something, but Dean goes on. “I don’t remember stuff, and I can’t do things anymore - and I creak, Cas - and you’re always so fucking okay with all of it, but you shouldn’t have to be with someone who can’t even remember to book a table for a date!”

“I told you we could’ve driven around the town, and then microwaved leftovers for dinner.” Cas throws back. “I liked that car smell.”

“You shouldn’t have to compromise!” Dean argues. “You give me everything I want. You should get everything you want too, Cas! That time, we had to cancel a date cause I lost my keys -”

“You didn’t lose them.” Cas tells him, cutting him off. Dean can’t tell exactly what mood Cas is in right now, but he sure sounds annoyed. Wow, so now Dean’s managed to do that too. Kudos to him. “And I don’t even want to go there now. Claire told me the owners were loud Republicans.”

“That’s not the point.” Dean complains, trying to remember what the point was, himself. “That afternoon! You wanted to make out, and my back was killing me, and we couldn’t -”

“I could always just kiss you now.” Cas declares, standing up, as if to prove his point.

“Not the point.” Dean hurriedly passes the opening to postpone this conversation. “Cas, I just want you to know that I wish I could be more. Like before. Or better yet. I was never enough -”

“Stop.” Cas positively yells, at this point. “I don’t care about the 'point’ you’ve conjured up, Dean. I get a say in this.” Dean’s silenced by the glare he receives. “I love you.” He begins, softening.

“I know.” Dean sighs.

“And I could not have asked for anything more than you are, Dean Winchester.” Cas takes a step towards him. Dean - okay well, he doesn’t move away, as much as he shuffles his weight to the other hip. He wants Cas to get there. “Because you’re everything.”

Dean blushes, though it’s a stupidly common line, because Cas isn’t just saying it. He’s practically emanating it. “Cas, no -”

“And you talk about not putting in an effort?” Cas rolls his eyes, and his neck goes with it. “Well, what have I been doing, then? I’ve been so comfortable with what we have, that I haven’t been initiating newer things, or asking you out, or -”

“That’s not your fault.” Dean says, shortly. “We’re not a week into dating. We’re settled, and domestic, and those are good things. If you were on your toes about us doing new things all the time, what’s the meaning of all the time we’ve spent together?”

Cas looks appalled, though Dean thinks he’s done a good job explaining it. “Awesome. You can whip out thoughtful lines like those when I talk about not putting in an effort anymore, but when it comes to you, I suddenly seem to want more?”

“Don’t you try to Dr Phil your way outta my fuck-up, Cas.” Dean warns, knowing exactly where Cas would take this.

“I don’t have to.” Cas replies. “Because it’s not your fuck-up. It’s mine. Somehow, I’ve failed to make you realize how much I -”

“You’ve not failed at anything!” Dean frowns. “I know you’re going to say you love me, and I -”

“What, you think I just say it?” Cas retorts. “There are millions of words out there, Dean. I have an exquisite vocabulary. I adore you, and I’m bewitched by you, and I cherish you, and I’m devoted to you, and I’m enchanted by you. But at the end of it all, I love you, for nothing could say it better.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Now, you’re going to let me apologize for allowing you to let such insecurities fester.” Cas tells him, having caught Dean in a daze. “You’ve always made me feel loved, Dean. And in these last sixteen years, you’ve made me happier than I could ever have known. You’ve smiled my bad days into better ones, and cooked meals for us to share on that little table, and you’ve let me kiss you, and make love to you, and be wedded to you, and you’ve never once let me feel alone. And since that’s what I’ve most felt, before you, I am more grateful for you than you could ever imagine.”

Dean feels his throat clog up.

“And every day, Dean, I’ve woken up knowing I love you, but gone to bed at night, next to you, somehow even more deeply in love.” Cas emphasizes. He’s standing much closer to Dean now.

“And I cannot believe I’ve never said this aloud, for I think about it all the time.” Cas swears, his tone delicate. “But you’ve grown and changed so much, that it’s that much easier to love you now. It was always too simple, but little by little, you’ve molded into all my nooks, and filled every strange-shaped crevice of everything I ever wanted.”

Dean’s lips tremble, as he buries his face in Cas’s neck, and lets Cas hug him close. He feels a tear slip down his face, but it doesn’t matter, because Cas’s arms are around him, pulling him close, and he can just pause, and listen, and breathe Cas in.

“I don’t know how long it took, the first go-around, as you call it. Maybe I fell in love with you when I rebuilt you, or when I fought with you against Heaven, or by that river in Purgatory.” Cas whispers, words a little garbled as they’re spoken into the fabric of Dean’s shirt. “But if I had met you today, I would’ve fallen in love with you in a day.”

Dean lets out a choked sound, he wants to believe is a scoff. “You only had to ask if you wanted me to have a dad-bod, buddy. Back then, I mean.”

“You’re nicer to hug.” Cas justifies, and on cue, holds on tighter. “But it’s all the other things too. Now, you -”

“Please. Stop, Cas.” Dean begs, and it’s only a little bit of a joke. “If you go on anymore, I’m going to have to sit down, and then I’m not going to be able to get up, without being vastly unattractive about it.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Cas informs him, pulling away to look at him better. “But fine. We can finish this conversation later.”

“And I can tell you more of my side,” Dean looks down at the floor, embarrassed. “Without you rambling off poetry about our relationship, and making it all sappy like you love to do.”

“Only if you aren’t determined to fault yourself.” Cas conditions, smiling now. He’s so beautiful.

“But I -”

“Dean.” Cas scowls, and Dean shrugs, quieting down. “Only if you swear to skip to the part where we talk about how to help you overcome this. Because, I’m sorry, but it’s not me who feels what you think I feel, at all.”

“Shuddup.” Dean mutters.

There’s a silence, a warm and comfortable one. Cas smiles, again, little but pleasant - and Dean mirrors it. He loves Cas so much. And Cas loves him.

“Date nights.” He blurts. “We could do date nights.”

“Of course.” Cas looks amused, but in a good way. “I think we could pull those off.”

“Let’s have them thursdays.” Dean smirks, and Cas grins.

“Good choice.”

“And let’s go on a vacation.” Dean suggests, suddenly. The pressure is gone, but the adrenaline hasn’t worn off. Their entire future seems to be a sky of possibilities. To make each other feel loved, and to be happy. To put in efforts, without making it a big deal. They can do this. “Let’s go to a beach. Out of the country. We could go on a cruise.”

Cas beams. “I would like that, yes.”

“And -” Dean stops himself, blushing.

“Yes?” Cas urges.

Dean squirms.

“- would you like for me to choose more panties for you?” Cas says, tentatively, at the same time that Dean says, “I want to dye my hair.”

Dean lets out a nervous chuckle, as Cas’s eyebrows go up. “Both?”

“Both.” Cas nods, stepping closer again, but this time it’s not a hug, as his hands go around Dean’s middle, but his head doesn’t go on his shoulder. Dean’s the one who closes the gap, exhilarated.

They’ve got this.

*

And as they eventually fall back on one of the couches, Cas straddling Dean because he’s the only one of them who can still do that - Dean remembers that they never pulled the curtains down, and moves to stop Cas.

“Curtain.” He pants. “Could you -” Cas doesn’t seem to get it, and continues to lavish kisses on his clavicle. “Cas.” Dean groans. “The window, please. No one wants to see two old geezers getting sweet on each other through the window.”

“Maybe exhibitionism would rekindle the spark you claim is dead for me.” Cas mocks. “And I prefer lovely, married couple. Less old, less geezer.”

“Sure you do.” Dean laughs back, burying his face in Cas’s chest. “You’re a billion years ancient ex-wave, and I’m definitely a geezer, but sure you prefer lovely, married couple.” Cas’s laughter rumbles through him, and Dean can feel it too.

And just like that, it’s pretty frigging perfect - the sixty 'round the corner be damned.

#destiel #supernatural #ahead of #spn s15 #dean winchester #bisexual dean winchester #castiel #dean/castiel #deancas #married destiel #hunting husbands #sam winchester #dreamhunter #spn ending #spn endgame #supernatural speculation #if this happens (or even the wedding does) I'll sob like a fucking baby #sam and dean #dean has issues #insecure dean #destiel fluff #destiel crack #destiel angst #angst laced with crack really #old destiel #dean is old #cas is back #spn #destiel ficlet #going on sixty