they look so much like the reagans

Imagine unknowingly meeting your Dad, Rafael Barba, for the first time

Part Two Here

Imagine unknowingly meeting your Dad, Rafael Barba, for the first time

“Hey Sonny,” You smiled as you walked into the squad-room and consequently into his sight.

“Y/N?” He asked, recognizing your voice, looking up and consequently seeing you walk in, “What are you doing here this early? You know it’s Wednesday, right?”

“My violin lesson was canceled,” You shrugged and you dumped your bag on the floor and sat down heavily at your uncle’s desk, “So here I am,”

“Well, your uncle Joe is an interrogation, right now,” Sonny informed, chuckling as you pulled your homework out your bag and dropped it loudly on your Uncle Joe’s desk, right on top of all of his freshly completed paperwork.

“Can I watch?” You asked suddenly extremely eagerness.

“Ah…no,” Sonny replied, with initial fake hope, just to mess with you.

“Come on,” You whined, spinning around dramatically in the chair, “Why not?”

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Ian: “Did you girls have a good time?”
Victoria: “We sure did! I think you picked out some cute things, Nina. I hope you like them.”
Nina: “I do. I feel a bit bad about how much it costed though..”
Ian: “Nonsense, Nina.. You shouldn’t buy clothes because they’re cheap. You have to like them. And quality is important too. Cheap clothes will look bad quickly so it’s better to spend more money and the clothes stay nice for longer.”
Nina: “I guess..”
Victoria: “Have you ever been to this restaurant before? It’s pretty famous.”
Nina: “No.. Mom never takes us to restaurants. We always eat at home..”
Ian: “Never..? Not even for special occasions?”
Nina: *shrugs*
Ian: “Well, I’m happy we get to take you here then.”
Victoria: *smiles* “Everything for you, Nina. It’s your birthday, after all..”

New Girl Rewatch Party: 5x22 Landing Gear

Originally posted by schmidtsburg

Stray Observations:

  • We made it, roomfriends! Last episode in the original #new girl rewatch party schedule as set up by the lovely @myfictionalfavorites. Unbelievable that we made it here before FOX announced #reNewGirl. Fingers crossed for an S7 so I can see all of you lovely people back here again next year.

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Something was killing people. We’d see 25-year-old handsome young men waste down to where they looked 95. It was like the walking dead, and there was so much of it … We’d spent so much effort building the gay community, and we thought it all would disappear.

Kenneth Bunch on the Reagans’ troubling Aids legacy.

As the nation mourns the former first lady’s death, those on the frontline of the 1980s Aids crisis remember something else: a couple who turned a blind eye.

It’s been a long day, and Eddie winces every time she hears Jamie throw something else in his locker. She sneaks a look at him out of the corner of her eye, waiting until he’s spent. When he finally goes quiet, she turns to face him. She sees the forlorn look on his face and makes a split-second decision: she gives him a hug. He stiffens at first, but relaxes into it and settles his arms around her. They stand there drawing wordless comfort from each other, their breathing starting to synchronize. Because she’s so much shorter than him, his head ends up resting on top of hers, and when he moves his head, his lips end up in her hair. She tenses up as she feels it but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. So she tightens her arms around his waist and burrows in a little bit and lets one of her hands slip down his back to rest on top of his waistband. He pulls her in closer and moves his head so that his lips are next to her ear.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” She asks, into his chest.
“Just- Thanks.“
"For you, Reagan? Anything.” He snorts, and the spell is broken.


Four pitchers of beer and 3 games of pool later, Eddie’s got her arm around Jamie’s waist, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s glad she’s strong, because he is almost dead weight. It’s 15 blocks and a subway ride away to her place and a $20 cab ride (at this time of night anyway) back to his. She can’t manhandle him all the way to the subway, so she decides to hail a cab.

“Reagan! Let’s go. You got cash? We’re gonna need it to get back to your place.”
“You’re coming over? Good thing I put clean sheets on then.”
“Shut up.”

She piles them both into a cab and rattles her partner’s address off from memory. Thankfully it’s not far because she doesn’t think she can handle his off-key warbling and uproarious laughter for much longer. The car rolls to a stop outside their destination, and Eddie reaches over to get the cash out of the pocket of Jamie’s hoodie. He grabs her hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing it quickly before letting go.
“Reagan, what the fuck?”
“You’re my best partner and I like you a lot. But you can’t go in my pocket. Girlfriends only.”
She rolls her eyes, but humours him anyway.

He digs around, finds his money and throws a bunch of bills at the driver.
“Thank you good sir, for keeping us safe.”
“Jesus Christ Reagan. Get out of the car.” She turns to the driver and asks if there’s enough money. Once she’s sure they’ve settled up and apologizes to the driver, she pushes Jamie out of the car, grabbing his belt so he doesn’t fall over.
He catches his balance so she drops her hand, letting her fingers trail across his lower back as she steps back from him.

She watches as he’s lost in thought. He’s not saying anything but she knows he’s worried about the boy they left in foster care that afternoon. He cares about everyone, sometimes to the detriment of his own well-being, and when he gets like this she feels like she needs to make sure he’s okay.

She’s shaken from her thoughts at the sound of her partner wretching all over the sidewalk. She catches his eye in time to see that pitiful look on his face, the look that tells her she won’t be going home tonight. She rubs his back as he heaves feeling his muscles contract and relax and wonders what they’d feel like as he hovered over her, driving into her with abandon. He stands up suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts.

He leans his head on her shoulder. “Eddie I don’t feel so good.”
She chuckles and rolls her eyes in his general direction. “If you feel as good as you look, I can only imagine. Let’s get you upstairs and into bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“You’re my favourite partner.”
“I know.”


By the time they get upstairs, he’s almost dead on his feet and is absolutely no help at unlocking the apartment door. She pushes him in ahead of her so she can lock the door; as she does, she hopes she can sneak into his bed again and sleep there instead of on the couch. He’s so drunk he probably won’t notice, but she still wants to create the illusion that she sees him as a partner and a friend, nothing more.

He’s sitting on the couch, head in his hands, mumbling something about fairness when she walks in. She can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but she knows he’s upset. She goes into his bathroom to get some Advil, pours him a glass of water and goes to sit beside him. If she can’t make him feel better, she can at least try to make his hangover less awful.

He’s shaking when she sits down, and she asks him what’s so funny. It isn’t until he looks up at her with red-rimmed eyes that she realizes he’s crying. She’s never seen him like this before and she has no idea what to do. He’s always the strong one, letting her break down while he bears it. She thinks that maybe he’s just hit his breaking point, and that its up to her to bring him back.

“Reagan, what’s wrong?”
He sniffs. “Nothing, it’s stupid. Just had too much to drink.”
“Bullshit. What’s wrong”
“I’m fine. I better get to bed.” He attempts to stand but she pulls on his arm, forcing him back onto the couch.
“Goddammit Reagan. Stop trying to be the hero and hold it all in. You’re upset and I’m here, wanting to help you like you always help me. Stop acting like such a…man…and let me in.”
She doesn’t know why she’s so mad at him, but the tone of her voice must mean business to him because he sighs loudly before he starts to talk, eyes down at the floor.

“I just…. I went to college to be a lawyer, right? It’s all I ever wanted to do. And I always thought that I was going to make a difference in the world doing that. And then I found out that even though I rebelled against it, I was made to be a cop. So I’m doing that. I went to a fucking Ivy League law school, and I’m a beat cop in New York City. Don’t get me wrong, I know now that this is what I’m supposed to be doing, but days like today make me wonder if I made the right choice. I could do so much more for kids like that if I worked in the DAs office, you know? Or a big firm and did a bunch of pro bono work to help people who really need it.” He stops, and inhales on a shaky breath, sighing when her hand rests gently between his shoulder blades. She strokes her thumb gently on his back and waits for him to speak again because she knows he’s not done yet.

“I wish I could have done more for him. He has no one in his life who loves him anymore, and the foster system is so hard for teenagers. I have no idea what that foster family is going to be like. How do we know he’s going to be okay? I just-” He chokes back a sob and Eddie uses this as her chance to jump in. She kneels down on the floor in front of him and takes his face in her hands, lifting it so that she can see his eyes.

“Reagan, you listen to me because I’m only going to say it once. You are a great cop, the best partner anyone could ask for. You’re like the poster boy for New York’s Finest. I never have to worry about anything when we’re on patrol together because I know you have my back. You go so far beyond the call of duty its kind of sickening, and I spend all my time trying to be half as good as you. Today, with that kid? I know you did everything possible to make sure he ended up in a good place. Could you have done more? Maybe, but short of bringing him home yourself, I don’t know what it could have been.”

He perks up at her suggestion. “Eddie, you’re brilliant! I should have brought him to live with me. How did I not think of that?”

“Reagan, you can’t handle a kid. Maybe someday, but not right now. You’ll be a great dad, whenever that time comes. Those kids are going to be so lucky.” She feels the lump in her throat grow, and it takes everything she has not to let her tears fall. She coughs. “Anyway. You need to know something: I’d rather spend time with you than anyone else I know, because you make me a better cop and a better person. You’re a good man, Jamie. The best.”

Her voice drops off, and he’s looking at her with an expression she’s never seen before. She leans her head towards him, her forehead resting against his. Her hands slip from his face and she brings one to the back of his head, pulling him into her. He slides from the couch and kneels in front of her wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. He’s crying again, and she holds his head in place, whispering soothing words in his ear. She feels his arms tighten around her again, and all of a sudden it feels like it’s a million degrees in the room. He must feel it too because his head turns ever so slightly and his lips are resting on her neck. Her hand moves unbidden to the nape of his neck, and she rakes her nails through the short hair there.

His lips move against her skin and at first she’s not sure what’s happening, but she’s going to go with it. She feels his lips a little closer to her neck and she’s now certain he’s kissing her. Without meaning to, she lets out a breathy moan and they both freeze at the sound. She’s kicking herself for breaking the spell until she feels his lips on her ear.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers. “I need you.”
She doesn’t trust her voice, but she nods in agreement. “Okay,” she bites out. “I’ll stay.”

They pull away from each other, the tension in the room palpable. He stands first, locking eyes with her and reaching his hand out to help her up; he pulls on her arm and she stumbles, ending up pressed against him. Her hand rests against his chest and she sucks in a breath, licking her lips in the suddenly dry room. She slides her hand up to his cheek and draws his face to hers while he slides a hand across her lower back and brings their hips together. Her stomach flutters just before their lips meet, and she feels herself melting into the kiss. She’s wanted this since she met him, and it’s only happened once before; this time though, he’s not brushing her off and she doesn’t want to think too hard about what that might mean.

The kiss is gentle, but she feels the heat behind it and wonders how they’ve each managed to keep this all under wraps for so long. She leans further into him and deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing his lower lip before she bites down. He pulls his head back, startled, and lets out a long breath. He drops his hand from her waist and takes a step back from her but doesn’t let go of her hand.

He raises his eyebrow at her, silently asking if she’ll follow. She nods, and laces his fingers with hers, leading her towards his bedroom. She doesn’t think she should sleep with him tonight. He’s too vulnerable and she doesn’t want him to regret it, because she knows she can’t take that.
“Jamie. Wait. We can’t.”
He stops and drops her hand and she can see his shoulders tense. “What?”
“Can you look at me please?”
He turns, slowly, a look of intense disappointment already on his face.
She reaches for him and he flinches away from her and she can’t stop the weight in the pit of her stomach. “Jamie. Please don’t be upset. I told you I’d stay with you and I meant it. I’ve wanted this-” she gestures wildly, “since I met you and I’m not willing to throw it away because you’re hurting and need a warm body beside you.” She furiously swipes at a tear on her cheek and stares at him, willing him to say something.

He breaks the silence and chokes back the lump in his own throat. “Eddie, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think that. I don’t want that either. I mean, I do, but you’re right. Not like this. I’m sorry.” He moves towards her, and envelops her in a hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to make you feel that. I-”
“Sweetheart? The hell?”
He laughs. “Too much?”
“Weird, mostly.”

She breaks their hug and walks towards his bedroom. She looks over her shoulder at him. “Coming?”


He wakes up first, looking down at the woman in his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He doesn’t know what they are, but he’s glad they’re not just partners anymore. She looks good beside him, and he’s glad they just slept last night. They’re complicated enough without adding sex to the equation, at least at this point. He gets out of bed, careful not to wake her, and goes into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on. He knows she likes it, but he didn’t expect the aroma to wake her as quickly as it did. She pads out of his bedroom wearing the sweatpants she borrowed and his favourite blue hoodie, running her hands through her hair. He feels a familiar tightening in his groin, and hopes they can sort out their issues sooner rather than later. As good as she looks in his clothes, he can’t wait to see her out of them.

He grins at her. “Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?”
She glares at him. “Watch it Reagan.”
“No really. How’d you sleep?”
“Good. Really good. That bed you have is amazing. So much better than mine.” She walks over to him and kisses him good morning. “Might have had something to do with the bedfellow too.”
He snorts. “Bedfellow? How old are you? Eighty?”
“Shut up”

They sit at his kitchen counter, drinking their coffee in silence. She can tell he’s got something on his mind so she lets him think it through; it’s nice, being here with him and she doesn’t want to ruin it.
“Hey Eddie? Last night, when you were talking about my kids being lucky?”
She swallows hard and lifts her mug to her mouth, needing a distraction from what she’s sure is coming. “Yeah?”
“Did you mean my kids? Or our kids? Because if it was up to me, I’d like option two.”

I love the way we ignore death, only to slice open our bellies, pregnant with fear and weeping, at the news of the passing of St. Rowdy Roddy Piper. It’s not like his death was some absurd answer to the great cosmic question. No. As Rowdy himself would’ve said, “Just when you think you have all the answers, I change the questions.” Perhaps we are upset because tonight we’re more alone as we stagger further in the waltz with uncertainty and darkness. A little sadder that a ridiculous bastard, a half assed god of chaos, a man who once beat another man unconscious with a coconut during a live TV interview, no longer struts and screams among us.

Rowdy Roddy Piper was just an average dude full of disdain and hatred for pretty much everything. And we loved him for it. Because deep inside, we fucking hated everything too. It was the eighties. Sleek flamboyant artifice, Ronald Reagan, flawless over-produced synth pop, and cocaine ruled the day. It looked like so much fun, but in the end we were miserable, broke, and alone with an empty mirror.

I know this probably doesn’t make much sense, but my hope is you feel like it does. Because that’s what Rowdy Roddy Piper was to me. He was there, In the middle of the fakest thing around, in the phoniest decade. In the grandly absurd Kabuki opera known as Professional Wrestling, he was somehow undeniable real. 

Be real for me tonight, St. Rowdy Roddy Piper. Be real in your bombastic mockery of our ridiculous masculinity. Shine a light on my insecurity and heal me with your infinite derision. 

who do you think you are? → wenzie

This whole suddenly a mom thing Reagan had going on wasn’t exactly working out well. As a matter of fact, it was going precisely how she thought it would go: terribly. She was no mom. She was hardly a good sister or aunt, going months without communicating with either of them. It was no wonder Darby hated her, and hated being stuck with her even more. Plus, it probably didn’t help that Darby had lost her parents, her only real family, and was now stuck with an aunt she barely knew. Funnily enough, it kind of felt like Darby was reliving Reagan’s adolescent years, but at least that meant she’d know what to expect and where to look when her niece was hiding things from her, just like she was doing tonight. 

Returning home from the grocery store only to find that Darby had taken off without leaving so much as a note explaining her absence, Reagan had texted and called her multiple times, but her communications consistently went unanswered. Think, Reagan, think, played like a mantra in the older woman’s mind until it finally dawned on her. Darby’s computer. It was practically a diary for teenagers of this generation, even if they didn’t realize it. The internet browser history held a lot more information about the user than a personal diary ever would and right now, Reagan could use that to her advantage.

It didn’t take long for her to find the page about the Blaze tattoo parlor and when she read an instant message from Darby’s friend Jennifer telling Darby to meet her at 8, Reagan knew that was where she’d find her niece. Glancing at her watch to find that it was already 7:45, Reagan quickly hopped off the desk chair and rushed downstairs, grabbing her bag and keys and running right out the door without bothering to lock it. There were more pressing matters she had to deal with right now.

By the time Reagan arrived at the tattoo shop, it was 8:05 and she was in full on panic mode. What if Darby had already started getting a tattoo? God, she was going to regret that for the rest of her life, just like Reagan had regretted ever getting a dumb tattoo of a freaking butterfly on her upper back. All she could think as she climbed out of the car and rushed to the entrance of the store was that she had to stop her niece at any cost.

Pulling open the door, Reagan began screaming at the top of her lungs to the point that every single person in the store was now staring at her. “Drop the needle right now!” Reagan exclaimed at the top of her lungs, barging her way towards the chair in which Darby lay. “This girl is only fifteen and there’s no freaking way I’m consenting to her getting a tattoo,” she continued, fervently tapping the tattoo artist’s shoulder in an attempt to gain his attention.

anonymous asked:

Prompt if you're bored: Amy just started dating Reagan and everyone's at a Halloween party. Amy and Reagan are being couply and laughing and Karma sees and her chest tightens and gets all flustered. Karma follows Amy into a bathroom upstairs, just wants to hug her and hold her because she misses her and is jealous and basically traps her against the door and starts to kiss her neck and "Karma what are you doing?" "Let me" "Th-this isn't fair you can't just do this"

This was actually really fun to write hehe, in other important news the title of this is ‘Who Doesn’t Want To See Scarlett Johansson’s Vagina?’

“Come on” Reagan laughed placing her hand on Amy’s lower back and pushing her towards the dance floor.

“You can’t be that bad at dancing” she said and Amy quickly rolled around Reagan and tried to quickly dash back towards the drinks table they had been hovering at.

“I’d rather you didn’t find out” Amy grinned shuffling away from her girlfriend. Reagan watched Amy move away from her and she folded her arms across her chest like a stubborn little girl.

“Babe” Reagan pouted and Amy suddenly found that she couldn’t resist that face, especially when she was in a Wonder Woman costume. Taking a step towards Reagan she narrowed her eyes.

“If you get injured I’m going to say I told you so” Amy smirked as she got close enough for Reagan to reach out and pull Amy close so that their bodies were touching. Reagan’s dark eyes stared at Amy adoringly.

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I am linking this post to Stephen Amell via his twitter. Mr. Amell, if you see this post, I want to thank you for making my entire year. You are a gift. You have no idea how much this meant to me. Thank you.

In August I made a Twitter account to send a single tweet. I sent it to Stephen Amell. I had no expectations of a reply, but he did! I asked if he would sign a picture if I brought it to SLC Comic Con and he said that he would. 

I went to comicon, and I wasn’t sure if he would sign it for free or not. His autograph was marked down as 50 US Dollars. I got in line anyway. There were 2 lines. Ther was an overflow that people waited in before paying, which moved at a regular pace, and there was the line to meet him. I waited in overflow for about half an hour. Then I got up to the stand to pay. I showed them the tweet and asked if I could get my picture signed for free. I was worried about meeting him. They say never meet your heroes. He’s my favorite and if he was a mean person, it would have ruined my day and the show Arrow for me.

The clerk told me to stand behind her while she talked to another guy. That guy went and talked to Stephen’s agent. His agent talked to him, and Stephen said he would sign it for free. He remembered the tweet. I was ecstatic. It gets better.

They expressed me almost to the front of the line, even in front of the VIP Pass holders. I only had to wait for maybe 6 people. His agent saw the picture and busted up laughing. Then it was my turn to get it signed. I kept my cool, but still had the biggest smile ever on my face. Stephen Amell is my favorite actor by far. I go up to him and he says, “You! I remember this tweet!” So he signed the picture for me.

The rule for autographs is no candid photos. Then he says, “Hey, let’s take a selfie together!” He asked for one with me! He was such a sweetheart! This is the best thing to ever happen to me. 

This man is a gift. After our selfie, I say to him, “I am so sorry, you’re my favorite. Can I pretty please have a hug?” He responded, “Of course, Megan.” He remembered my name! I repeat, he gave me a hug! He smells great btw. I had to stand on my tippy toes. He was so nice! I thanked him and went my merry way. After I left, I started crying. I was so happy. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Best day of my life..

I went to the signing booth with no expectations. I didn’t want to disappoint myself. I had no idea that I would

  • get taken to the front of the line
  • get my picture signed for free
  • get to talk to Stephen Amell
  • get a selfie with him
  • and get a hug

I about ran back to my booth and went up to my friend, Court. (He was selling his artwork) I told him what had happened and I was talking so fast he could barely understand me. I was bouncing up and down, I was so happy.

Later, I had a photo op at 6:00pm. I took my friend, Court, with me. There were hundreds, maybe a thousand people in line. It took about an hour and a half. Stephen said that he would stay until EVERY SINGLE PERSON got their picture with him. Last year something like this happened and they had to refund nearly 300 photo op tickets. He even stayed after to sign the pictures if people wanted to pay for them to be signed. When we were near the front, Stan Lee walked by. Court and I were 4 feet away from Stan Lee!

The pictures went by really fast. They lasted like 5-10 seconds. I understand because there were a ton of people and Stephen Amell, bless his heart, stayed for all of them. He recognized me and said, “Hey you!” When he saw me at the photo op. I got my picture taken professionally. 

My shield was super scratched up from shield fiving the other Captain Americas. The flash hit it perfectly, and my shield looked like new. As you all can see, I kinda grabbed his shirt. I was so excited. 

Court didn’t get his picture taken. He was just there for me. Court shook Stephen’s hand and thanked him because he knew how much this meant to me. I was so happy. My face hurt from smiling ALL DAY. 

I went back to our booth and got a protective sleeve for my picture. Reagan tried to put it in for me and he touched the picture with his fingers. I was overly excited and yelled, “DON’T TOUCH IT WITH YOUR HANDS YOU SWINE! WERE YOU RAISED IN A BARN!?” Don’t judge me. This photo is sacred. I have acrylic nails so I was able to hold it without damaging it at all. When I got home that night around 11:00, I cried some more because I was so happy. 

This was the best day of my entire life. 

Why are you a better choice to create better jobs?

Hillary Clinton: “We have to make the economy fairer. That starts with raising the national minimum wage and also guarantee, finally, equal pay for women’s work. I also want to see more companies do profit sharing. If you help create the profits, you should be able to share in them, not just the executives at the top. […] Let’s have paid family leave, earned sick days; let’s be sure we have affordable child care and debt-free college. How are we going to do it? We’re going to make sure the wealthy pay their fair share and close the corporate loopholes. 

Donald Trump: “Our jobs are fleeing the country. They’re going to Mexico, they’re going to many other countries. You look at what China is doing to our country, in terms of making our product. […] There’s nobody in our government to fight them. And we have a very good fight. We have a winning fight. Because they’re using our country as a piggy bank to rebuild their country, and many other countries are doing the same thing. So we’re losing our good jobs. So many of them. […] We have to stop our jobs from being stolen from us. […] Under my plan, I’ll be reducing taxes tremendously, from 35% to 15% for companies small and big. That’s going to be a job creator like we haven’t seen since Ronald Reagan. It’s going to be a beautiful thing to watch. […] I look very, very much forward to doing it.”

daddy imagine- sammy

ive been awake for an hour now, listening to my husband Sammy trying to put my 1 year old daughter to sleep again. One of the reasons I loved him, no matter how hard I tried for him to go to sleep so I could take care of her when she wakes up at night he would never let me. No one the guys would. If sammy was a away, the Jacks or Nate would sleep over and take care of my baby girl, Samantha. Yes, she was named after Sammy, but that’s her middle name, Reagan Samantha Wilkinson. She looked just like him too, had his nose, smile, eyes, and most importantly his eyelashes. Oh my baby girl was beautiful and the fact that sammy cared for her so much couldn’t be better.

(present day)

It’s been a week since he had to leave for LA again and he’s called me an impossible a out of times making sure that she’s ok and isn’t missing him too much. When in reality she doesn’t know the difference between the guys, even though there is a different look in her eyes when Sammy is holding her, almost like she knows him. It’s like watching an anger really they’re both so beautiful.

(back to flashback)

When sammy finally got her to go to sleep that night, he came in and wrapped his arms around me thinking I was asleep when I knew that he was tired and wanted a break, but he was not going to let that happen. 5 minutes later I heard her tossing and turning in bed again and I got up quickly before Sam could stop me and went into her room waiting for her to start crying.
And she did. I got her out of bed and sat with her in the rocking chair next to her bed admiring her and how she is so small and delicate, I didn’t even notice the rear that ran down my cheek.
“Baby, why-are you crying? Babe here I’ll do it go to sleep.” sammy whispered to you.
“No baby it’s ok I want to,”
“But why-why are you crying…”
“I just, I love you baby, I love her, I love this” and other tear rolled down my cheek and sammy gently wiped it away with his thumb.
“what do you mean babe?”
“I just love us as a family and I love you so much sammy” I mailed up at him smiling down at me.
we sat there for who knows how long rocking our baby girl together promising to keep promises that haven’t even been made yet spending our moment of the night quietly singing to our baby.

hey sorry if this sucks, it’s really short but yeah, next Monday taylorcaniffuckyou will be posting so hope you enjoy babes❤️❤️

anonymous asked:

Why are so many musicians so liberal?

I’m not really sure. The arts and entertainment industries are both very left-wing and have been for a while. It’s really rare to find any musicians, painters, actors, writers, etc who are conservative or libertarian.

Which is why punk rings so hollow to me. The 80s were filled with anti-Reagan songs, but I can’t think of any punk bands that had anti-Clinton or anti-Obama songs. Most punks (and artists in general) aren’t anti-government, they’re just anti-conservative, big government liberals.

Crass did a lot of anti-Thatcher songs, but did they bash left-wing politicians? I hated their music so much I never bothered to look further into them. They certainly didn’t have great songs like Black Flag or The Minutemen had.

Anyway… Probably a lot of it has to do with groupthink. If there are any conservatives in these areas, they’re usually ostracized and ran out. Look at what’s happening to Kanye West right now as an example. He said he didn’t vote for anybody, but would have voted for Trump and that Trump is a genius, and now he has tons of musicians who are disowning him and refusing to work with him ever again.
















See u for season 2B my Faking It Friends :) 

I will still be around tho. Making fanvids and such and waiting for casting and filming news. It’s been a slice! (P.s watch orphan black bye)



I have just been craving to have a prompt on Reagan comes over for dinner to Amy’s house

Just cuz I really just want to see this since Farrah mentioned it last episode

Thank you for the prompt!

Amy brings it up in the middle of a heated make-out session, Reagan has her hand halfway up Amy’s shirt and she fully intends to take advantage of Amy’s empty house but Amy pulls away breathless “My mom wants you come to dinner” it sounds breathy and if that sentence wasn’t so terrifying Reagan would’ve done her right then and there.

Reagan pulls her hand out from under Amy’s shirt “What?”

“She wants to get to know you”

Reagan’s face scrunches up “You told her I’m dating you?”

Amy shrugs “My mom was always amazing at seeing through bullshit” she thinks for a second “Sometimes”

Reagan runs a hand through her hair “So she wants to meet me?”

Amy nods eagerly “Yup and she wants you to have dinner with us”

“I don’t know…” Amy pouts

“Please Reagan” she leans in and kisses her gently “Please?”

Reagan groans and grabs Amy’s hips and rolls over till she’s hovering over Amy’s he leans down and captures Amy’s lips. Amy eagerly kisses back but pulls away “So is that an yes?”

“What do you think, dork?” Amy smiles and kisses her.

Reagan does take advantage of the house that night.

It was a week later that Amy is jittery, she’s currently on her couch watching T.V but she’s not really paying attention, she can only think of the last time her and Reagan had dinner with someone else and how that blew up in their faces.

Lauren plopped herself down on the couch “What’s up your ass?”

Amy sighs “Nothing”

“Oh right I forgot, it’s Shane who takes it in the ass”

Amy shoots her a pointed look “Leave him alone” Lauren puts her hands up in mock surrender and they stay in silence for a few more minutes before Amy’s constant shaking annoys Lauren. The shorter blonde groans and reaches over and puts a firm hand on Amy’s leg “Okay seriously, the fuck?”

“Reagan’s coming over”

Lauren’s face twists into one of confusion “Why? It’s family dinner night”

“My mom invited her over”

“Oh shit” Lauren says with a light laugh


“Good luck with that”


Their conversation is broken when a doorbell rings throughout the house, the silence thereafter is kind of deafening. Lauren pushes Amy “Go answer the door, ditz” Amy nods and doesn’t respond but numbly walks over to the door.

She pulls it open to see Reagan the girl seems calm and collected “Hey” Reagan smiles and enters the house and kisses Amy’s cheek

“Hey, shrimp” Amy doesn’t get another word in before she hears the clacking of her mother’s heels fast approaching

“Okay just be yourself and stay calm” Amy whispers and Reagan simply nods and not a second later her mother is rounding the corner, she nearly runs over to Reagan and pulls her into a hug

“Hello” she nearly squeals out “You must be Reagan, it’s so nice to meet you”

Reagan is shocked at the hug and doesn’t really return it but Farrah doesn’t notice “It’s nice to meet you too”

Bruce rounds the corner and laughs to see Farrah all over Reagan, he pries Farrah off her and sticks his hand out “Nice to meet you Reagan”

Reagan laughs lightly and shakes his hand “Nice to meet you Mr. Cooper”

Bruce gestures out for Lauren she appears, all smiles, two seconds later “Have you met my daughter, Lauren?”

“Yes I have actually”

“Oh really” he seems confused “Where?”

Reagan knows that a rave isn’t the correct answer so she goes with something a little more family friendly “Actually me and Amy had dinner with a bunch a people about three weeks ago, Lauren was one of those people”

“Oh well isn’t that nice” Farrah says, she wraps her arm around Reagan’s shoulder “Now I do hope you like kale- I’m on a diet and I‘ve been trying to incorporate into all my meals”

Reagan snorts “I love kale”

They’re all at the dinner table, with Amy and Reagan pressed up against each other, Lauren was near Amy and Farrah ad Bruce mirrored Amy and Reagan.

For a little while all that you could hear was chewing and the scraping of forks hitting the plate “So Reagan where are you from?”

“San Antonio, actually”

“Oh that’s nice” Farrah took a sip from her glass “Why move to Austin?”

“Oh just umm you know needed to get away from home”

“Wouldn’t know” Amy mumbles and Farrah gives her a pointed look to say ‘shut up’

“So what do you do Reagan?” Bruce asks

“I work for a catering company”

“That’s nice” a silence settled around them before Farrah moved from to the table to get a dessert, Bruce looks at Reagan

“Where did you meet our sweet Amy?”

Reagan wasn’t sure which encounter was so once again she went with a watered down version “I actually met he while I was working”


Farrah come back with separate plates with cake laid upon it “What are we talking about?”

“Where she met Amy”

“Oh! Please do tell” Farrah says happily as she sits down and keeps direct eye contact with Reagan

“Like I was saying I met her while I was working”

Farrah looks at Amy “What were you doing at a catered party?”

“I had a friend who didn’t want to go alone so I went with him and there I met Reagan” Amy smiles fondly at Reagan and the latter of the two moves her hand and squeezes her knee

“Well isn’t that nice” Farrah took a bite out of her cake “So Reagan did you want to adopt or have children?”

Reagan chokes on her piece of cake.

Later that night Reagan and Amy stand on Amy’s front step wrapped up in each other “Do you think they liked me?” Reagan mumbles into Amy’s shoulder

“They loved you”

She pulls back and looks into Amy’s eyes “You sure?”

Amy nods and presses a kiss to her lips “They like you as much as  I like you”

“ohh so it must be a lot right?” Amy nods and kisses her again this time with more passion, she’s about to pull back when Farrah opens the door

“Girls please don’t have sex on the stoop, it’s not appropriate” she smiles and quickly goes back into the house

Reagan’s skin is painted with a blush “Oh god,  please tell me she was joking”

“Yeah totally” she thinks for a second “I think”

Faking It Finale: Last Few Minutes Breakdown

Now that I’m sober and coherent, I just want to give my thoughts on the last few minutes of the finale.

The Kiam hookup? Not ideal, but we saw it coming. She was using him to numb the pain and once again ignore everything she’s feeling: betrayal and confusion. Positive takeaways from this: Karma doesn’t actually forgive Liam, but she forgives Amy, and oh my god does Katie look HELLA in that underwear. If she wasn’t attached to Liam it would have been perfect.

The dream sequence. Ugh. They tried too hard. I get what they were trying to do, but the way they executed it was confusing and required too much thought for this type of show. If this was on a show like PLL it would have been fine, because PLL is supposed to be a confusing mindfuck. Faking It, however, is a 20 minute comedy with too much going on already. This is not the type of show that should leave its audience wondering what was real and what was fake. BUT, as Carter confirmed, this was all Karma’s dream, so let me break this down further.

First, Karma dreams of Reagan and Amy going camping. That’s normal. It’s something that’s probably on her mind. Maybe she’s jealous of Reagan, maybe not. Oh, wait, she is, because it’s actually Karma and Amy going camping now, and it looks like Karma is doing a lot more than kissing Amy.

This is where Karma should have woken up and looked at the camera. This would have been a clean cut, but still had the audience saying “WHOA, Karma has feelings for Amy after all this time?! But we thought she was straight! That’s crazy!” Unfortunately, Carter has a history of taking some risks that shouldn’t be taken and ultimately trying too hard to create something that will make himself feel like a genius, when in reality he needs to keep it simple and create a show that actually makes sense.

That brings us to the Liam/Amy hookup. All it symbolized was Karma’s trust issues. Nothing else, which is good, I guess. Still, very confusing and a horrible way of illustrating this to the audience. It was already implied that Karma would still have trust issues, and that could have been confirmed and explored in season 2b. It’s not a cliffhanger that she had trust issues, so to go from the WOW dream that actually was a cliffhanger to that, and then have Karma staring at the camera is just poor writing.

Carter did this last season finale and he is going to continue to do this. He wants to make every finale as shocking as possible, even if it means making the plot line choppy and confusing. Personally, I think one should never substitute a good plot for shock value, it just seems cheap and I honestly thought that was common sense. There are a lot of improvements that need to be made in 2b, and unfortunately, I don’t think they’re going to happen.

Street Lights

“I don’t wanna watch! I don’t wanna watch!” Parker squirmed around in his seat, as though trying to escape from the horrors playing on the screen.

The attendees of the movie theater all either laughed awkwardly, or turned to their neighbors to whisper about the little boy shriveling in his seat.

“Honestly, you’re twelve now, grow up!” His older sister, Reagan, hissed, “it’s just a movie!”

Reagan was fifteen.

Being fifteen years old and being forced to take your baby brother out to the movies on a Friday night–that was about as close to the end of the world as Reagan could get.

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