anonymous asked:

I don't know if anyone else has noticed this? But I've noticed that when black men date non-black women they're more open about their relationship? They'll share more pictures / and are generally more public? I've seen this especially with black male celebrities. The women are often portrayed as a symbol of their success or 'status'. Non-black women are precious and deserving. Whilst black women are 'worthless' and don't deserve such doting treatment. They'll keep us in the background..

I think believe I made this post on here before, or was thinking about making it or never got around to it. But I notice that myself, it’s like they’re ashamed of their black girlfriends or partners, like they still are dating the lower tier of the human race. I see this a lot of with athletes and entertainers.

White and non-black women are seen as a status symbols. It’s the idea that you haven’t really made it until you have a white or non-black woman on your arm. So of course they’re proud to flaunt them everywhere. Sad, sad, sad reality.

But what if Foleo like really looks up to their auntie Camilla?

I mean, I’d expect her to dote on all her assorted nieces and nephews, but Foleo is always really receptive to her affection and doesn’t squirm away from her, even when they’re little.

And sometime when they’re in their teenage years or whatever, they end up confessing to her that they really wish they could be as pretty as she is, so they have a long heart-to-heart and Foleo comes out of it a lot more happy with their own appearence. Agh.

rightintheniconicoknee asked:


I’m a little behind on this and I’m sure someone has already done this, but here is the amazing NicoMaki headcanon you have been waiting for!

Who would win tickle wars:

Nico has been winning tickle wars for years against her younger siblings and knows all the special techniques.  When Maki (who is an only child doted upon by her parents) instigated their first battle, she didn’t realize just how outmatched she would truly be.

Who would draw pictures of the other in their sketchbook:

It started with Nico drawing little pictures of herself as an idol in the margin’s of Maki’s composition notebook.  Maki got her revenge by stealing the super secret idol diary that Nico uses to doodle all her ideas for her future as an idol and adding drawings of her own idol self to all of the scenarios.  When Nico found out, she was speechless and Maki became really embarrassed.  In the end, they never spoke of it again, but neither of them bothered to erase what the other had done.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have a headcanon that Nor can be pretty emotional, but only shows it through sarcasm and when he gets REALLY angry.

Also when he’s doting on cute things

directium asked:

Grif and Simmons overhear Sarge being the most adorable doting grandfather and when they catch him in the act, he denies it completely (but they KNOWWWW >u>)

They hear the singing when they come home, careful not to slam the door or make noise since they know it’s naptime. Sarge’s voice is gruff and hard but there’s a gentleness in it that they’re not used to hearing. They can’t make out the words- the lyrics are in Spanish, and neither of them can understand Spanish, even after all this time with Lopez.

They find him in the nursery, rocking slowly in the rocking chair, cleaning his gun while he sings to the sleeping infant in the crib beside him. When he sees them, he stills, and the song stops. He looks up at them; they can see a blush tinging his cheeks but he seems to be ignoring that.

“Oh good, you’re home,” he says. “Was starting to think I’d have to babysit all day. Took me forever to get Archie here to sleep so keep your voices down.”

“Sure, Sarge,” Grif says, while Simmons moves over to the crib. He twitches the blankets back into place, brushes a gentle hand over the springy curls.

“What was that you were singing?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing really… just got it stuck in my head, that’s all. You know how it is. Seemed to keep the kid calm so I kept singing it to him. You know how it is.” He stands abruptly. “I’ll leave you with him now you’re home. I have work to do, can’t be sitting around babysitting all day.”

After he’s gone, Grif moves over to the crib beside Simmons. “So… does he honestly think he’s fooling anyone with that gruff act?”


What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That’s Dad’s. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad’s. Your music? Dad’s. Do you even have an original thought? No. No, all there is is, “Watch out for Sammy. Look out for your little brother, boy!” You can still hear your Dad’s voice in your head, can’t you? Clear as a bell. I mean, think about it… all he ever did is train you, boss you around. But Sam… Sam he doted on. Sam, he loved. Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy’s blunt little instrument. Your own father didn’t care whether you lived or died. Why should you?

In the weeks and months to follow that infamous battle, this modest house in the middle of the countryside became outrageously overstuffed.

Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione retreated back to the home several days after the battle. They were exhausted though nobody could sleep. They were sad though nobody could cry. They were angry though nobody could shout.

Visitors came and went as they pleased. Nobody was turned away. 

Andromeda Tonks was the first to stay as Mrs. Weasley insisted that a young baby was too much of a fuss to constantly carry back and forth. A crib was set in the corner of the living room though Teddy was hardly ever in it. The baby was always passed around and doted upon.

Gabriella Delacour and Fleur’s parents arrived the next morning, worried sick about their daughter. They were naturally invited to stay for as long as necessary.

Luna Lovegood and her father arrived that afternoon. The former dreamily asked if it would be possible to stay for a few nights; their house had been destroyed by the Death Eaters after all. Mrs. Weasley warmly agreed though she was a bit thrown off by Luna’s well-meaning insistence that there were knifferknoffers in her kitchen.

Neville visited and slept over so frequently that he was pretty much an official member of the household.

The group received the shock of a lifetime when Narcissa and Draco Malfoy showed up on their doorstep. Narcissa admitted that she didn’t know where else to go but that she could no longer stay with Lucius. She had wanted to get out for years but had always been afraid of her husband’s connections. Mrs. Weasley firmly invited them in and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, from either the Malfoys or from her family. It was awkward at first but within a few days, it became apparent just how different the two were when they weren’t under Lucius’ reign. Narcissa and Andromeda were able to reconnect for the first time in decades.

Quite coincidentally, or maybe by fate, another somewhat pretentious woman with a former bully of a son ended up leaving the matriarch of the family. Vernon’s angry shouts could be heard throughout the entire neighborhood where their safe house had been. Yet Petunia and Dudley had both realized the error of their ways. It had taken them some time to find Harry. When they did, they both broke down and profusely apologized. Harry accepted without hesitation. Upon discovering that Petunia and Dudley weren’t sure where they were going to go, the group invited them in. Draco and Dudley got along famously, as did Narcissa and Petunia. It wasn’t long before Andromeda and Narcissa regarded Petunia as their sister.

Several weeks later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione embarked on a trip to Australia where they were able to successfully find the Grangers. Naturally, the Grangers were invited into the Burrow as well.

Naturally, the Burrow became the new Headquarters for the Order. For even though Voldemort was gone, there was still a lot to be done. Because of this, people such as McGonagall, Hagrid, and even Kingsley found themselves staying the night on multiple occasions.

It was, in a word, chaos.

Wonderful, blissful, chaos.

Money wasn’t an issue. Everyone who could afford to chip in did so. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley refused at first but ultimately gave in when Harry sincerely said that it was the least that he (and everyone else) could do to show their immense gratitude. The large group ate meals together. They told stories, they laughed, they cried, they talked and talked and talked…

There would be time to sort out romantic relationships later. But for right now, they were all friends. They were all a family. And nobody was ever alone!

(This is my ultimate headcanon for what happened after the war!)


Mondo Releases Die-Cut Animated ‘Superman’ Soundtrack

Superman: The Animated Series – Die-Cut Single
Music by Shirley Walker
Artwork by Phantom City Creative
LP Single Die-Cut with screen-printed B-Side
Pressed on Classic Red Vinyl or Kryptonite Green Vinyl

Mondo is thrilled to announce the Superman: The Animated Series Die-Cut single featuring the character’s iconic emblem cut in the shape of the Man of Steel’s “S” in classic red vinyl or Kryptonite green vinyl.

Commenting on the artwork, Justin Erickson of Phantom City Creative said, “I wanted to make this a companion piece to my packaging design for Batman: The Animated Series. While Batman is darker and more serious, Superman needed to be bright, colorful and energetic to reflect the tonal differences between the two.”

The single features the theme music of the inimitable Shirley Walker, whose leadership on this and Batman: The Animated Series set the standard for the music of the DC Animated universe for decades to come. This release is an essential companion piece to last year’s Batman: The Animated Series Die-Cut Single.

Strange Magic AU: Dawn has Shitty “Friends”

AKA Bog is a Big Brother and you Fucking Know It

An Au where Dawn just has really shitty friends.

People who know that she’s a precious little cinnamon bun and can take advantage of that. Mostly hot guys she has a crush on and will do anything for, despite the fact that she’s truly a strong person. She just wants so badly to be liked because, ever since Roland, her sister has been so disntant and Sunny is amazing and all but she wants the approval of these Fairies who only choose the best and the prettiest to fly with them.

So one day they decide to pull an elaborate hoax on her. 

She can be with them, and perhaps later on even find herself dating one of them, if she brings back something from the Dark Forest. Little does she know they’ve planned to scare her, someone posing on a branch with a bucket of water and a mask ready to ground the poor girl and terrify the wings off her. 

So the group of them travel in, making their way to the designated spot. But as they’re approaching, already far enough through where everything begins to look the same and they might be lost (we’re not lost, the leader will declare with far too much bravado) when a Goblin pops out and scares the lot of them.

And the group scramble over one another to leave, but push poor Dawn away, injuring her. And when she calls out, pleading to be helped, for them to bring her back with them, they leave her behind without a second glance. And so she’s left alone in the forest with a Goblin wandering close by. All she knows is that, from what she’s heard, their King is cruel and terrible and has a habit of letting his citizens eat any Fairies that should pass through. And so she hunkers down under a leaf, curled up, staring out into the quickly darkening terrain terrified and cold and hurt. 

And that’s when Bog finds her. 

Hello! so this is for the Sakura Uzumaki event and I hope that you like my first cel-color illustration. I’m super late though.. this is the honeymoon in the beach after the wedding ~

Naruto: “SAKURA-CHAN!” //runs adorkably

Sakura: “hm?” //looks up

Naruto: //snaps a photo. “uhehehe it came out nicely~”

Sakura: “w-wait! Naruto!  I was not ready!!! “

Naruto: “hmm? no no you look very pretty” //dotes on the picture (lol wtf) 

Sakura: //blushes (profusely)

…and then you can imagine whatever you like will happen <3

>>>inspired by Naruto ending song 10 My answer by SEAMO<<<

I remember much of my early childhood fondly although; I never truly realized I was surrounded by poverty in my Bronx neighborhood until I grew up. I was born there when its destruction began to peak and residents barely began regrouping.  The whole wanting to be the pretty in pink princess in a tiara while using Fisher Price dishware to host tea parties phase completely bypassed me.  Although I doted on my Barbie dolls and Care bears, I preferred toys that let create and reimagine things. Of them my hand-me-down magical beloved big wheel was my favorite. I still remember the weird momentary bounce as I crunched over small pebbles and broken glass through the stench of stale beer and urine wafting through the air, on the way to the park. Mom always walked alongside.

I was just three years old when I decided I preferred “boy clothes”. My interest in dresses with slips, pretty patent leather shoes paired with frilly socks, and being too delicate to touch dirt on purpose, lasted as long as a New York minute.  Early on, I fell in love with sneakers paired with jeans and a t-shirt. My world forever changed, when the elephant print seen on the original white cement III’s entered my wardrobe.

They were my first pair of “cool” shoes that at times I’d catch myself staring at possessively at my babysitter’s house. I didn’t want anyone not tying my shoes for me touching them, but another little girl also had a pair of them. Her’s were scuffed up and dirty and I feared while getting ready to go home with mommy, I’d wind in the wrong shoes. This never happened. However like most things in life, you outgrown them or they outgrow you. One day I had grown, I was four years old. My toes ran out of wiggle room in the front and the seat could no longer be adjusted on my plastic trike. Although both objects of my affection were short-lived, I enjoyed them to the fullest.


Reblogging for today’s “blackart”/black tumblr art showcase.

@ all old lgbt people who want grandchildren but don't have any

i am your grandchild now.

spoil me. make me scarfs. bake goodies for me. send me money in my birthday cards. i, for one, am happy to shoulder this burden.

anonymous asked:

Jonnor as Dads?? (Maybe age the kid/kids around 5 or something)

Dads-a Jonnor fanfic by its-war-paint

“Connor!” Jude whispered. Connor closed the book he was reading and turned to look at his husband. (Husband. husband. Husband. He loved saying it. So much. He still wasn’t used to it. HUSBAND.)

“What?” he asked. Jude was leaning out of the door of the kid’s bed room. It was Jude’s night to put them to bed.

“Come here,” Jude whispered. “Fast!” Rolling his eyes, Connor put down the book and stood up. Jude was always doing this. He thought absolutely everything their kids did was the most adorable thing in the entire world. But it made Connor happy. Their children were doted on and adored in the way every kid deserved to be. The way Connor’s mom and dad had never really adored him. He joined Jude in the doorway, and saw what was so cute right away. Their twins, Riley and Alexa, had their own beds on either side of the room. But it seemed that at some point, Riley had climbed into his sister’s bed and wrapped his arms around her. Their adorable five year old twins were cuddling, asleep under the covers of Alexa’s bed. Jude turned and looked at Connor, and Connor noticed the tears in his husband’s eyes. Connor took Jude’s hand and rubbed his thumb on the back of it. 

“Look how cute they are, Con. Look how sweet. It makes me wanna cry.” Connor leaned forward and kissed Jude’s cheeks, wet with tears. It was official: he was raising kids with the best father in the entire world. Together they snuck out of the room, very quietly, as to not wake the twins. Connor headed to the kitchen and began to make tea for Jude. Jude loved tea, and had it nearly every night before bed.

“I just really love them, and I wonder every day how we got so lucky,” Jude said, sitting in the chair where Connor had been reading minutes ago.

“I feel the same way,” Connor said. “I thought for a while that we might never have kids, and then all of a sudden we had the two most perfect babies in the entire world.”

“They remind me of Mariana and Jesus,” Jude said. “They’re so close. And so cute. Seriously, Connor, why are our kids so much cuter than everyone else’s?” Connor came and sat down next to Jude, handing him the cup of tea. Jude had his legs up on the seat, sitting cross legged. Connor always thought it was so cute how he sat like that, even on chairs. 

“I don’t know. Probably because they have the best daddy in the entire world,” Connor said.

“Oh, stop,” Jude replied. “I’m nothing special. I just try to keep them alive.”

“You do so much more than that,” Connor said. “You look at those kids like they are the stars in the sky. You treat them like the Prince and Princess of the entire universe. You would do anything for them. And they know that. They feel so loved. More loved than I probably ever did as a kid.” Jude smiled at Connor, and Connor smiled back. It was all true. He often teared up just thinking of how lucky his babies were to have Jude as a daddy.

“You’re the fun dad, though,” Jude said, sipping his tea. “Riley thinks you are the coolest guy. He’s always saying, ‘When is Dad gonna be home to play baseball with me? And Alexa thinks you’re Superman. She always asks when you’re gonna be home to play Airplane.”

“I am a pretty fun dad,” Connor says. “But I can’t read books and make them laugh with silly voices like you do. I can’t make bath time fun like you do. I can’t calm them down when they cry like you do.”

“But I can’t make them feel as safe as you do. And I can’t run around with them in the yard for hours like you can.”

“Well, I would say we make a pretty good team.” Connor said. “Remember six months ago? When we got them? They were so scared. Alexa was scared of me. She warmed up to you first.”

“But Riley always gravitated to you,” Jude said. “I think it’s official: they need both of us. We are kickass dads.” Connor laughed. “Speaking of dads, I need to call my moms. They have been begging to come down and see the twins.”

“They were here last weekend,” Connor said. “Lexa and Riley haven’t changed a bit since then.”

“You know how moms are,” Jude said. “It’s the twin’s birthday on Sunday, too.”

“That’s true.” Connor said. “I’ll invite my mom too. Invite Brandon and Callie and Mariana and Jesus and AJ. Tell Mariana to bring Javier and Brandon and Callie to bring the boys and AJ to bring that sweet little girl. What did they name her again?”

“Rose,” Jude replied.

“Rose. Yeah. and tell Jesus to bring his girlfriend of the week. I’ll barbecue, and we can just have a little backyard picnic.”

“Sounds awesome,” Jude said. “I’ll be in charge of presents. I know what all the hot new toys are. Don’t worry, I’ll sign your name on half of them.”

“Remember when we used to stay up late like this at parties? And sports games and movie premieres? When did we become such…dads?” Connor laughed. Jude smiled.

“Six months ago. And I like this a lot better,” he said.

“Me too,” Connor replied. “Now come over here.” He scootched over on the loveseat he sat on. “There’s plenty of room for both of us to fall asleep right here.”

Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain and the Gendering of Martyrdom’

by Zack Zarrillo

Molly Beauchemin, writing for Pitchfork on the way the media portrays the death of stars based off gender:

The way media dotes over its tortured male artists while undermining the personal struggles of women who suffer the same is nuanced, but a look into the archive suggests the phenomenon is well documented across race, genre, and generation. When Janis Joplin died on October 4, 1970 the New York Times called her a “misfit” whose “behavior was explosive” and remembers her as “drinking from a bottle at her concerts” and “screaming obscenities at a policeman in the audience”. Two weeks prior when Jimi Hendrix died– also at the age of 27– the same paper’s headline referred to him as a “Top of Music World Flamboyant Performer Noted for Sensuous Style” above an article that failed to highlight his fabled and widely-acknowledged affinity for mixing drugs with alcohol, even as new evidence emerged that he was wildly out of control during his final days. In many cases these kind of comparisons are sticky because Joplin was not Hendrix in the same way that Billie Holiday was not Keith Moon, and there are so many other factors affecting the way we remember these icons that it seems silly to compare them on the basis of their self-destruction alone– but how we interpret an artist’s demise says a lot about how we view them in life.