epitome of family


July 17, 1955- Disneyland first opened up its gates. The day, unfortunately, did not go smoothly: sticky asphalt, intensely hot weather, and counterfeit tickets being only a few of the aspects that went wrong. However, one unsuccessful opening cannot compare to the lasting legacy Disneyland has created. It is not referred to as “the happiest place on Earth” for merely nothing. For 60 years, Disneyland has been the epitome of family bonding, a place for all kindred spirits of the young, old, and everyone in between. It is a place with the enchantment of a fantasy world but with the comforting aura of home sweet home. And the powerful secret of Disneyland’s unparalleled success is due to the mindset and ideals of one man who believed that ‘play’ is important for both adults and children and that spending time with loved ones is the key to happiness. Thank you, Walt Disney. For 60 years, your kingdom has stood and for many more years may it stand.

mycherryqueen  asked:

To me, the forehead poke was the most unexpected thing to ever happen in Naruto!!! It made me love sasusaku so much(even when I was a hardcore narusaku shipper back than) Was it the same for you? Did you ever expected sasusaku​ to become canon like that??

Oh so you were a narusaku fan? Didn’t know that

As for me, among the many fantasies I had about them becoming canon, I wouldn’t even dare to think about the forhead poke.

The most precious memory for sasuke. The gesturethat made him relive the  happiness he shared with his family, the epitome of lovethat  only a family can give you you, was used as the the link to the love of his ife, sakura.

I have no words to express howbeatiful its is. No kiss, sex scene or ooc confession could ever change that.

And sakura knows that too, that’s why she shows us the most beatiful and heartwarming smile whenever sasuke is mentioned :D

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Michael and Sara find out they are having a boy, so they set out to get prepared for their first child before he arrives into the world

Sara stirs from her spot on the bed, the days excitement having stolen all her energy, leaving her collapsing into bed with a well deserved nap.  Her last waking moments before falling into slumber is the soft wisp of her husband’s breath against her ear, his arm wrapped around her from behind, the long fingers splayed across her expanding stomach.  Her hand tightly gripping his forearm, his sleeves having been rolled to the elbow, exposing a spider’s web of veins for her to trace until sleep at had taken over, a smooth path for her fingers to trail until her eyes succumbed to the rest her body was demanding.  

Rolling over onto her back, her hands immediately come to her stomach, like a magnet drawing her nearer still, bringing a smile to her face as the sheets rustled beneath her.

Swinging her legs to the side, she maneuvers herself into a sitting position before planting her feet on the ground, her view soon to be skewed from their growing son.


The word felt so new and shiny, the semblance of their reality becoming clearer each time the thought of her son crossed her mind.  Her vision of the child blurred with only hopes of what it might look like.  The reveal of it being a boy giving more defined lines in her head of the sketch she’d scrawled up in her head.

The swirling blue, green of Michael’s eyes materializing onto their child, the dark hair contrasting with her lighter skin, giving life to a vibrant little boy that she was sure would have them both wrapped around his little fingers.

But the smile dropped from her face as she trudged down the stairs, pulling her hair back from her face, Michael nowhere to be found.

He’d been particularly quiet about the news, his eyes squinting into something of contemplation, before a close-mouthed grin had lit up his face, squeezing her hand, as she’d cried with a ear splitting smile.

Checking from room to room, she finds them empty, one by one.  The panic rising in her chest.  The danger having slithered back into its hole, refusing to drag them back into the mess.  A normal life having been granted to them the past few months.   Neighborhood barbecues, quiet nights with books littering their laps, teasing each other over laundry, and dishes being split into wash and dry by the two of them.  They were the epitome of your typical family expecting their first child.

But the threat always loomed in the back of his mind.  What threat, she didn’t know.  But some days she couldn’t help notice him look over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at strangers that approached her, his hands coming to her stomach, shielding their son from what could be danger.

As the anxiety spiked through her, her hands working themselves through her hair, she begins to call out for him, when she approaches the last room.  The nursery.

“Michael,” she says with a sigh of relief.

Sprawled in front of her is her husband, a tangle of papers littering the floor, the bare room echoing the strokes of his pencil underneath the hardwood floor.  He’s hunched over, legs criss crossed beneath him, as the heel of his palm comes to the temple of his head.

Quietly approached him, her hand skims the top of his head.

“Michael,” she says again, this time catching his attention, having been wrapped up in concentration.

He glances up at her, a tentative grin with worried eyes staring back at her, and he moves to rest his head against her leg.

“What’s this?”  She asks, using him to steady her balance as she lowers herself into a sitting position, and he worriedly grabs onto her, hovering between getting up to help, and precariously balancing on his own sore, unsteady limbs.

“I thought I’d get a head start on the baby’s room,” he says, almost shyly, quickly glancing over at her, unsure of her response.

She looks closer, intricate sketches are scattered before her of the room, from the crib to changing table, to a rocker in the corner, and a picturesque mural on the wall.

“This is —“

“If you don’t like it, we can do something else,” he quietly whispers to her, setting down his pencil, pushing up the errant sleeve that had somehow managed to unroll onto his forearm.

Her fingers come out to trace the lines of the sketch, the graphite rubbing off on her hands, leaving the tiniest of smudges to the sketch.  Her imperfection leaving her own touch to the room.

“Yeah, it’s terrible,” she says, retracting her hand and crossing her arms across her chest.

She knows he senses her sarcasm, as the hand resting on his head, taps his skin gently with a smile, before tilting his face towards her, and she cracks.  Raising her brow at him, her smirk giving a teasing glint to her eyes.

“Did anyone ever tell you how good of an artist you are?” She asks, glancing down at the now unmarked skin that had once been a canvas for the most elaborate of tattoos she’d ever seen.

That earns her a laugh, his hand lowers from his head to grab her own.

“I might have heard something like that before.”

“He’s gonna love it,” she whispers, placing her head down on his shoulder.  “I can see it now.”

He..,” he whispers almost to himself, as if the news is still sinking in.  “Auburn hair, brown eyes,” he continues.

And she can’t help but nod, feeling similarly, despite the different images that they’ve conjured up of their son, not missing the similarities of what they both wished for.

“I want…” he starts, and she stills against him, unsure of where this is going.  “I just want him happy,” he says, the ghosts of his childhood shiver through him onto her, the stories of his past having long since been discussed.

“He will be,” she assures him, squeezing his hand the same way he’d done earlier at the appointment.  A silent promise that things would be different with their kid.

“I guess this means you get your wish,” he teases, nudging her gently.

She smiles against his shoulder at her small victory.

“Just…just promise me you won’t call him Junior,” he says with a visible cringe.

She laughs against him, raising her head to look into his eyes, the swirl she hopes is passed onto their son staring back at her.

“I promise, no Junior,” she agrees with a smile.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

meanings of asteroids and how to find yours

main asteroids are ceres, pallas, juno, and vesta. i’ll include the centaur chiron in here as well though it’s technically also an asteroid. to find your signs in these asteroids go to astro.com and enter in your information if you’re a guest user.

then go to free horoscopes and click “Extended chart selection”

Scroll down until you find “Additional Objects” and hold down the control key and click on the first five under “Asteroids”.

Your birth chart should come up and scroll down to see a table that looks like this. As you can see, my chiron, ceres, and pallas are in sagittarius, and my juno and vesta are in pisces.


Chiron:  Chiron gives wisdom and patience as well as hiding the dark sides of us. They give us character, lessons in life and perseverance.

Ceres: Ceres influences mothering, hard work, parenting, and gardening as well. It will show how well we go with the flow. Negatively, it influences grief, work problems, eating disorders, custody issues and kidnapping. Influences low self-esteem and complexity in feelings.

Pallas: Where her influence falls is where you will find talents in justice, defense, and widom. Also shows father/daughter relationship and how you will treat men in general.

Juno: Where you find Juno in your chart is where you may meet someone that you will remain with for a long relationship. Negative influence over issues of spouse abuse, powerlessness, women’s rights.

Vesta: Vesta brings out your purest potential into being. Epitome of the home and family, ritual, chastity and sexuality, and devotion. The negative aspects include insecurity, lack of focus, promiscuity, segregation, secret societies and family troubles.

Click {here} to find interpretations/meanings of your placements in these asteroids.

OMG my heart!! Look at Coups, Jeonghan and Chan-ie!! Now, tell me this ain’t an epitome of a happy family 😭😍

JeongCheol Family 👪
© ASTRO_rn2

Lightning Gym Leader Headcanon

something I’ve had for YEARS is the head canon that all of the Electric Gym Leaders are related. Wattson is of course the oldest of them all, and is Lieutenant Surge’s Uncle, he often remarks on the fact that Surge ‘should’ve chosen a better place for an electric gym then right next to a hub for ground types’

Surge has several brothers and sisters, and therefore many nieces and nephews. Elesa and Volkner are cousins, and actually get along pretty well because they’re the two most likely to sit around the edge of family reunions in exasperation.

Clemont is actually Volkner’s younger brother although there’s a huge age gap between them. On the surface it doesn’t look like they get along very well because of their clashing personality types but when Clemont got bullied when he was significantly younger (and before he had his own devices and pokemon to defend him) Volkner would find them, regardless if Clemont told him who gave him the black eye or not.

Spark is related through Wattson’s (deceased) sibling and going down that line, but his parents passed away due to an accident. Surge, who has somewhat of a dating life but has never actually settled down with someone and had a family, had plenty of room and time to take care of a child and took Spark in. He was the one who was the most excited when Spark was given the opportunity to help spearhead the Go program. 

Spark of course gets along well with the entire family, and loves to visit them all. He built Instinct to try and epitomize that feeling of family he grew up with, even despite the distance between them all. They sent him letters and new pokemon from their regions and discoveries and visited whenever they could. That’s what he wanted the Go program to be about - a family regardlass of distance. 

Of course he discovers a new kind of family among Blanch and Candela

He also found Zapdos when Surge took him on a trip down to his old work, the powerplant. 

I’ve had this conversation a million times in the last eight years.

“Oh so you’re a single mom? But like, he still helps out right?”

“Uh…no…not really.”

“Well yeah, but he still sees her, right?”

“Um…no…not really.”

“Okay so he just contributes financially then?”


And then, like clockwork the pity sets in. You’re probably feeling it right now; a tightening in your chest after you read that snippet of my life. The poor little abandoned family, left to fend for themselves. I’ve grown so accustomed to that look, the sad tut that seems to leave people’s lips, and the way they immediately view us differently once they learn that we are the epitome of a “Single Parent Family”.

We do not want your pity. I’m very sure the intentions behind it are good hearted and loving, that most people just don’t know how to handle seeing a girl who had a baby at seventeen and was left, but that doesn’t change the fact that your pity taints our lives. It makes it seem as though we are missing something, as though our family is less than yours simply because there isn’t a man at the head of our table.

There are a lot of things I question in my life but the decision to have my daughter alone was not one of them. I was four months pregnant when he left and it was the best thing that ever happened to us. I would love for my child to have her father in her life, and most days I try really hard not to hold any ill-will against him, but that is not our reality. It never has been. We accepted it a long time ago so you should too.

You see, there is a certain beauty in being a single mother that no one else realizes. I get her all to myself. I don’t have to share parenting decisions or nighttime cuddles. I am always the one she wants when she’s sick and the one she brags about to her friends. I have built a bond with my daughter that every person who meets us comments on.

She is eight years old but she is the best friend I’ve ever had in my life. No one else can make me laugh as hard, no one else reads me as well, and no one else understands just how consumed I can get with my love of her. Since that day when I was pregnant, before I could even feel her turn in my belly, I committed to be the one person in her life that will always be there, that will love her unconditionally, and that will do it regardless of my marital status.

It isn’t easy. No parent has it easy. We have been so blessed with an amazing extended family, who show up for class recitals and afternoon lunches, who remember to put a dollar in her book bag for a pretzel at school when Mommy forgets, who step up when I fall a little short because we all fall short sometimes.

And there are nights where it seems impossible, where the little voice in my head tells me that he was right and I was messing her up beyond repair. And there’s the times where I want to jump through the computer screen and shake the women who complain about how their husband doesn’t do enough, or how their child’s father only takes them once in a while, or how the child support payment isn’t nearly enough. I have to remind myself constantly that my story is not everyone’s, my pain is not everyone’s, and everyone is entitled to their own complaints.

Our life is far from perfect. There are moments that are downright painful, like when my daughter has to complete a “My Family” page for school and digs out one of the two pictures in existence that has the two of us with her father. She is only three months old in the photo and he was gone again almost as soon as the shutter clicked. But there she was, staring at the picture with this paralyzing sadness radiating off her because all the other kids in her class come from traditional nuclear families (which is a whole new level of torture brought on by the universe). And not for the first time, I wanted to cry for her because no one in the world deserves to feel unloved, especially not my perfect little girl.

There are so many things I want to tell her, so much pain I wish I could take into myself and save her from. But her pain is as valid as mine and it deserves to be felt.

Eight years old is much too young for the lesson that sometimes people leave and my poor girl has learned it far too many times in her short life.

We spent the rest of the night picking out pictures of the two of us for the page, looking through years of memories that left her giggling at our silly faces. We are not like every family, we are far from it, but we have a lot of people who love us just the way we are. And at the end of the day, when my daughter is wrapped up in my arms, she whispers to me that she’s glad I’m a single mom because I do it better than a Daddy ever could, and the words he said to me all those years ago fade from my mind.

So thank you for your pity, however it might come, but take it elsewhere. Our family is perfect the way it is.

anonymous asked:

I love the tags you put in the last post you reblogged and I totally agree with you ;_;

oh my god listen to me LISTEN the whole avengers thing only WORKS because the avengers are the epitome of the ‘ lost & found family ’ trope. there’s a reason why they chose, not had to, not forced to, but chose, to live together at avengers mansion (WHICH HELLO giant flashing metaphor of the original owner’s childhood family mansion – a home that was never actually a home to him but a carefully cultivated environment of fear and disappointment – becoming the symbol of the avengers and the actual physical space where this group of people came to be each other’s family).

and oh my god steve rogers. spends pretty much every single universe he’s in drowning after the ice. he’s alive, but he’s drowning in so much grief and pain and loss. and you know what, the avengers notice. they all do. they all, in their own way, make an effort, to reach out to him. and the important thing in these universes is that he always reaches back. and despite being so out of time and out of place steve always tries. i mean, it’s even out of reflex, because it’s impossible to be that alone and not wANT to make friends out of the people he’s already trusting with his life out on the battlefield. it’s so human of him to want that connection.

because that’s who steve is. his loyalty and faith is sO absolute and lifelong, why wouldn’t he seek out people to surround himself with and to love. he’s a soldier, he absolutely understands the value of treating the people you fight beside like friends, like family. and in those moments of life and death, that’s what they become. the kind of devotion he has for people who’ve earned his trust is endless, you just have to look at how tightly he holds onto the people from his old life. give him 2 or 10 years as an avenger and the very idea of the avengers is the thing steve clings to throughout all the disasters, all of the tragedies. 

he has so much enormous pride in the avengers, as a symbol, and as a collective of the best, bravest people he’s ever met. of course they’re his family, of course he loves all of these misfits and crazy people as family. how could he not? he’s their leader and their general and their inspiration when they need it but then who inspires captain america? his team, his family.

and i mean. honestly have you seen steve when the team is about to be disbanded or broken up or ended or someone has to leave the team hAVE YOU SEEN the level of soap operatic drama

[insert the entire nomad period here bc apparently getting a new identity and a deep v neck latex suit is steve’s version of a superhero midlife crisis]

and then look at him ligHT UP LIKE SUNSHINE whenever the idea of assembling the team / building a new team comes up 

then there’s tony in his corner, so eager to get to know him and become his friend, both as tony stark and as iron man. like oh my god the examples alone i could list of tony doing endearing selfless things just because he wants steve to feel like he has a place in this new era. who so obviously cares so much about steve and not just cap, who above all, just wants to be his friend.

i’m not saying this just because i’m a shipper blog but steve’s conception of the avengers and what he sees as his ‘home’ is so inextricably linked to tony. 


(steve’s first day at avengers mansion after the ice)


harryshumjr Meeting the Obamas was special. They were kind, generous and epitome of what a presidential family should be. Thank you, Obama for your service for the past 8 years. I am honored to have been able to call you my president.

January 20, 2017

Why am I a bibro, you ask?

It’s easy. Because as much as I love Sam (which is a whole fucking lot) and Dean (I identify with him on a spiritual level), I love their LOVE more.

I love their codependency, I love their desperate need for each other, I love the fact that they are never whole without one another.

It does not mean I reduce them to a ship. It’s not about that. Be it fanon or canon, these two individuals are the epitome of true love, friendship, family. To me they are halves of the same whole. And I simply cannot think of one without the other.

fold this part, unfold this part (hold this heart)

title: fold this part, unfold this part (hold this heart)

pairing: maya hart/lucas friar

word count: 13407

summary: Maya and Lucas are friends, and then they’re something more. But when that something more isn’t enough?

ao3, ff.net

They’re thirteen and fourteen and alone for the first time, away from the other two of their group—away from the little genius and the literal ball of sunshine. A project that Mr. Matthews has assigned them that truly has nothing to do with the past: starting a muffin business. (However, if Lucas has picked up on anything this year, it is that everything their history teacher assigns them has a reason, and since he does well on the tests he figures he should go with it.)

She groans and complains, but Maya finds her way to his apartment afterschool just as she had promised. Dressed in a torn leather jacket and combat boots, she definitely isn’t what his mother had pictured when he had texted her to let her know a friend from school was coming over to work on an assignment (mom: I’m so glad you’re making friends here!!!!!! just let me know if you need anything???), if her wide eyes and forced, polite smile is any indication.

Nonetheless, she ushers the girl in, lets him know that there are snacks in the pantry and that she is welcome to anything she’d like. This garners a small—mischievous?—grin as his mother goes back into her bedroom to do whatever mothers do on Wednesdays.

Keep reading

harryshumjr: Meeting the Obamas was special. They were kind, generous and epitome of what a presidential family should be. Thank you, Obama for your service for the past 8 years. I am honored to have been able to call you my president.

Islam truly honors women. When Islam emphasizes the mother’s role in family, it doesn’t want to prevent her from partaking in society. Some have misunderstood it and think women should either be good mothers and spouses or take part in social activities. This is wrong. Hazrat Zahra (PBUH) is the epitome of balance between family and society; While doing her maternal duties, she played a big role in leading the society of her time. It’s a mother who passes society’s culture, civilization and moral characters to children with her soul, characteristics and behavior.
—  Ayatollah Khamenei
"Dean's Theme" and its Evolution

By now, we’re familiar with what has generally been referred to as Dean’s theme (here). It’s great music, first of all. Props to Jay Gruska. You can hear the heartbreak and pain in the theme. Naturally, it plays during the real tearjerker moments, but what those moments entail has changed a lot over the season. First, we reference this clip, which is a large compilation of the theme through seasons 1 and 2.

When we first start hearing Dean’s theme, John Winchester is still alive. It comes to symbolize the Winchester family as a whole - especially when they’re being protective of each other. Because damn if this family doesn’t love each other to death, even if John is a great big douche at times. When he sacrifices himself, we hear it, proving that once again family is the Winchester pride and joy. Now, onto the music analysis. It’s almost always played on piano, giving more depth to the melody. More importantly, the last major (or happy-sounding for you non-musicians) chord is always played, literally ending on a positive note. This implies that the Winchesters still have hope. But when John is about to die, an oboe takes over, bringing the melody to the focus and obscuring the “happy end”. From here, the show takes a turn for the darker. When Sam dies in the season 2 finale, the ending of the theme is slightly changed, and once more, we don’t get the happy ending, mirroring Dean’s pain.

In later seasons, we hear Dean’s theme mostly when he gets deep with Sam, revealing all his insecurities, vulnerability, and sorrow. However, it mostly gets regulated back to the piano (not that it makes it any less heart-wrenching). Of course, it pops up whenever one of the Winchesters bites it. Its chief purpose becomes to show that Dean is hurting, and hurting bad, usually because of his relationship with Sam. The music isn’t about family any more - not in the way it was early on.

Now, on to season 10. The most dominant spot I can think of early on is here, where Sam is looking through Dean’s room. He finds the old photos of his family, and begins to go through them. Here, instead of the piano, we’ve now turned to cello with a female voice accompaniment. We know that Mary used to sing the boys to sleep, so the voice counterpart shows his connection-or lack thereof. The cello, being a wonderfully expressive instrument, sticks the melody, and once again we don’t get the major chord ending. Most importantly - Dean isn’t in the room when this happens. We know this scene occurs while the Deanmon is still around, when the emotional focus is on Sam. For him, this is about everything that makes Dean human, primarily the love he has for his family. Dean loves his family and friends to borderline obsessive levels, and now the hatred he has for Sam and Cas is destroying their relationships because it’s not Dean. The Dean they know is gone, along with the love of his family, so the theme moves to represent what Dean has lost. This gets emphasized in tonight’s episode, when Dean attacks Cas. The cello is back while Dean beats the crap out of Cas and nearly kills him, rather than the climatic, fast paced music you would expect. Now, we see that Dean has completely lost his humanity - without even becoming an actual demon. Everything he’s held dear before no longer has any value to him, and the music takes on an ironic meaning. This is when it really hit home for me that Dean’s probably not going to come back from this. After his fights with Sam and Cas and Charlie’s death, he’s lost his last family, and the music confirms it.

—- I am on my phone right now and I pray this goes through because if I had had the time THIS is what I would have wanted to talk about as well. Thank you, dear for writing this up. I agree a hundred percent, when the family theme played over it, that’s when I really lost it. So yes to all of the above and mostly the part of Dean now having lost his humanity without even becoming a demon. It’s the single most devastating story ever. And btw, this doesn’t really have anything to do with this but what I also find mightily significant is that Dean killed Daddy Styne who pressured his one son into the family business when he never wanted it but loved school and reading and normality and then killed Eli and Eldon - the two elder brothers who always did as Daddy told - and in the end also killed the youngest Styne. Cold bloodedly, no humanity left. When you think about it when he killed all them really Dean killed the very loose mirror characters of his own family here too and well - like it is said above by the lovely submission - in the end the family theme plays over a moment when family no longer means anything to Dean who used to be the epitome of humanity and s family man. ;___;