I Was Working On My 5x02 Ep Recap And I Just Got Attacked by So Many Scott Feels When He Admitted To

i was working on my 5x02 ep recap and i just got attacked by so many scott feels when he admitted to kira that he doesn’t think he’s smart enough to get into davis

like i legit had to sit down for a moment and just chest-clutchy dry sob

because it was like a culmination of just tearing down scott’s perceptions of his own intelligence? starting with that ap bio scene when lydia and kira apparently didn’t think he was smart enough to even take the class? and then the teacher intimidating the shit out of him after he studied so hard before school even started? and then that scene when he was just sitting alone in the quad clutching his mountain of books and looking so lost and despondent???? i just want to wrap him in a blanket and bake him cookies and help highlight his notes and tell him baby you got this

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Christmas On Deck

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: You're stuck at the airport on Christmas Eve and, naturally, you meet a pilot. What's his name, again?

CW: Fluffity fluff with a smidge of angst

Can You Do Some Christmas Fluff With Rooster? 💕

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you kidding me?” you groan in response to the latest flight delay announcement over the airport intercom. The gate is packed with equally irritable travellers whose flights have been postponed on account of the blizzard. You let out a weary sigh and plop down into the only available seat in your vicinity, which happens to be right next to some dude with a pornstache who’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt – even though your destination is Vermont – and Ray Bans – even though you’re indoors.

“What a nightmare,” you hear him mutter under his breath, his lip curling sideways underneath his bizarre facial hair. He’s got several scars running down the side of his face.

You eye him inconspicuously as he pulls a book out of his backpack, partly because he smells nice but mostly because you’ve got nothing better to do. When he leans back into his seat, his shoulder brushes against yours accidentally. He looks up at you apologetically.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

You give him a tight smile, wondering if he’s going to keep his sunglasses on while he reads. “It’s cool,” you respond. “It’s not your fault we’re all cramped in here.”

He chuckles, trying to squeeze his broad shoulders inward, but his arms still manage to extend beyond both sides of his seat. Finally, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs, and opens his book.

For some reason, the low rasp of his voice and the way he seems greatly unfazed by the prospect of being stuck at an airport on Christmas Eve makes you weirdly interested in striking up a conversation with him. “Is it a little bright for you?” you say cheekily, noting that he hasn’t removed his shades.

The man turns his head slowly to look at you over his shoulder. He straightens his back slightly, a small smile forming underneath his ridiculous mustache that, you hate to admit, is becoming increasingly attractive with every passing minute. He lifts his hand to tap on the frame, letting the glasses slide a touch down his nose as he squints at you, studying your face. Instead of answering your question, he poses his own: “You going somewhere special for the holidays?”

“Home,” you say. If you ever get there. “You?”

He takes off his sunglasses and hooks them into the collar of his white undershirt. “Some friends are going skiing,” he says, shrugging.

You nod, not really sure where to take the conversation next, when there’s another announcement indicating that all flights have been cancelled for the rest of the night. You close your eyes in disappointment as the rest of the terminal groans in response to the news. “Great,” you say. “Christmas Eve and Christmas morning at the damn airport.”

The man watches you sympathetically for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, bummer.” His eyes scan your face for another several seconds and then he shoves his book back into his backpack and stands up. “Come on,” he says, motioning with his head for you to follow.

You furrow your eyebrows at him suspiciously, not at all eager to accompany a strange man to an unknown destination, regardless of how good-looking he may be.

He senses your hesitation and extends his hand. “It’s not far,” he says. “Promise.”

You swallow uneasily, putting your hand in his. His warm fingers curl around yours and he gently pulls you out of your seat. He doesn’t let go of your hand once you’re up, holding onto you instead while he navigates the crowd of angry passengers at the gate. He draws you out of the horde and down one of the largely empty corridors of the airport. “Where are we going?” you ask cautiously.

“Here,” he says, turning a corner into a dimly lit room with large windows exposing the flurrying snow outside.

“Wow,” you breathe, taking a step forward when he finally lets go of your hand. You walk toward the window spanning the entire wall from the floor up, watching the storm blanket the terminal, snowing in several parked planes.

Mustache walks up behind you. “It’s the observation deck,” he says, looking out onto the apron with a smile.

You glance up at him, admiring the shape of his jaw, and his neck, and his broad shoulders, and his mustache, goddamnit, and wonder if he’ll ever tell you his name because, at this point, it feels awkward to ask. You grin to yourself and then sit right down onto the carpeted floor, crossing your legs. “In that case,” you say. “Let’s observe.”

The man chuckles lightly and takes a seat next to you on the floor. He unzips his backpack and pulls out a bag of chips. “Salt and vinegar?” he offers, ripping the bag open and holding it out to you.

You laugh. “This is dinner, isn’t it?”

“This,” he says, and then pulls out a box of Ritz crackers. “And this.”

“Yes!” you exclaim, grabbing the box out of his hands.

“And, for dessert…” he adds, digging his hand back into the bag and pulling out another box.

Your jaw drops in your excitement. “Oreos!”

He nods. “I’ve got a lot of Oreos,” he says, pulling out several packages of the cookies.

“Amazing!” you say. “I hit the jackpot sitting next to you, didn’t I?”

He grins, his teeth grazing over his lip as he curls it in. “I was thinking the same thing about you,” he says.

You glance up to meet his gaze, blushing slightly.

He reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re really fucking pretty,” he says.

You smile at him, deciding that being stuck in an airport on Christmas Eve isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

You spend the next couple of hours eating and chatting. You find out that he’s a pilot in the Navy, that his father died when he was just a boy, and that his mother passed away when he was a teenager. He tells you about Top Gun, about his squad, about how he’s indifferent when it comes to Christmas because he doesn’t really have anybody to spend it with. He even tells you what his favorite food is. What he doesn’t tell you is his name. And he doesn’t ask for yours.

You don’t bother either; what the point? After tonight, you’ll never see him again, so there’s no sense in getting attached. It wouldn’t be the first time you spent the night with a stranger without so much as exchanging numbers. Unfortunately, besides being exceptionally cute, the guy is actually boyfriend material. He’s genuine, and funny, and considerate, and you’re finding him especially easy to talk to. Perhaps it’s because both of you know that, by this time tomorrow, the stranger you’ve shared all your secrets with will be out of your life for good.

This is great. This is therapeutic. This sort of transient camaraderie is what travelling is all about. You don’t build lasting relationships with random people you meet at the bus stop, or at a train station. Why should an airport be any different?

There’s a chiming in the distance and you look down at your phone. Midnight.

“Merry Christmas,” he says.

You look up at him with a small smile. “Hopefully Santa knows where to find us.”

He chuckles while you rub your hands together. “Cold?” he asks, pulling a blanket out of his backpack.

“Is there anything you don’t have in there?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I like to be prepared.” He hands you the blanket.

You unfold it and move closer to him, trying to wrap it around both your shoulders and his.

“Here,” he says, shifting to lean his back against one of the seats and spreading his feet so you could sit between his legs.

You stand up to walk around him, and then lower yourself in front of his body. His hands are on your legs the moment your knees bend, helping you down. His touch sends a shockwave through you, and you glance back to see him looking up at you lustfully. You gulp as you sit down, his hands sliding slowly up the sides of your thighs. You lick your lips, sliding backward until you feel your hips align with his, and then you slowly lean your back against his chest and pull the blanket over both of you. His arms close around yours under the fleece and he lets out a sigh. You rest your head on his shoulder and he lowers his face to press his cheek against your hair.

“This is nice,” you mutter, already warming up as his large hand closes around your arm. His thumb begins to brush your skin as he makes a soft humming sound in agreement.

…

You wake up to the hot sun radiating through the giant windows of the room. You’re lying on the ground with the man you met last night beside you under the twisted blanket, his extremely heavy arm crushing your shoulder. You don’t mind it, though; his sculpted arms kept you warm all night.

You rotate onto your back and he stirs, lifting his hand to rest it over your abdomen as he nuzzles his face against the side of your head.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his fingers gently stroking your stomach.

You smile at the ceiling, your eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the room. “Merry Christmas,” you say.

He sighs and his hot breath bathes your neck. “It is,” he murmurs, his hand tangling in the blanket as he grips your waist to pull you closer.

You shut your eyes, enjoying the very best Christmas present you’ve ever received. But, just when you’re about to turn your head and finally give your companion a kiss, a loud beep followed by an announcement indicating that flights have resumed interrupts the moment.

You exhale slowly, not bothering to conceal your disappointment, and Mustache chuckles into your ear, tickling the side of your face. “I wonder if Santa found us,” he says quietly.

You glance over at his mischievous smirk and sit up. There’s a Christmas tree in the corner of the room that you hadn’t noticed the previous night because it was too dark. Under the tree, there are an assortment of snacks – including more Oreos – that he must’ve gotten from the vending machine overnight. You giggle as you make your way toward it. There’s also a small package of travel socks, a neck pillow, and an airplane keychain. You pick it up, observing that the plane doesn’t resemble any commercial airline.

“It’s a Rhino,” he says, and you look up at him in confusion.

“It’s an airplane,” you respond with a smile, dangling the ring from your index finger.

He chuckles. “F-18,” he clarifies. “It’s the jet I fly.”

“They sell these here?” you ask, although you already know the answer.

He shakes his head and then shrugs. “Just something to remember me by,” he says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.

You blink at him without responding, thinking that his name might also help. But you’ve already decided that it’s best not to know. “Thanks,” you say finally, closing your hand around the tiny plane. “I, uh, didn’t get you anything.”

He grins. “Yes, you did,” he says. “You gave me the best Christmas Eve and morning I’ve had in a very long time.”

You smile back at him. “We should do it again some time.”

He chuckles but his face falls slightly, as though he’s not optimistic about the likelihood of an encore. “Same time next year?”

You hold his gaze for a moment before the intercom blares, declaring that you have ten minutes to get to your plane. You gather the snacks, dispersing them between your carry-on bag and his, and make your way back to the gate.

The attendant calls on the back rows to start boarding and you give Mustache one last look. He squeezes your hand, and you don’t want him to let go, but he does anyway.

“I bet you have a really pretty name,” he says. It must have occurred to him also that there would be no point in knowing it.

“Have a safe flight,” you say.

He nods. “You too.”

Your mouth is taut when you give him a final smile and turn away, but before you make it past the checkpoint, you turn back to look at him again. He waves at you but you step out of the line anyway, going against the stream of bodies desperate to get onto the aircraft. He gives you a questioning look when you arrive before him. “Uh,” you start, unsure how to express what you mean to say. “Not just this flight.”

“What?” he asks.

“You’re a pilot,” you clarify. He narrows his eyes. “So, I just wanted to say, may all your flights be safe.”

He watches you solemnly as you chew on your lip. Then, you throw your hands around his neck just as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground in a passionate embrace. He kisses your neck as you sink your head into his shoulder. When he puts you down, his mouth is still trailing up the side of your face, leaving in its wake a string of delicate kisses. He brings his hands up to take you by the shoulders, resting his forehead on yours. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Bradley. It’s nice to meet you.”

You smile, watching the lower half of his face transform when you respond. “Hi, Bradley. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he whispers, his lips hovering over yours. “I knew you had a pretty name.”

You chuckle briefly, but then his hand starts gliding along your shoulder and up your neck and, suddenly, you’re not in a laughing mood. “How long are you going to be in Vermont?” you ask, closing your eyes.

“How long are you going to be in Vermont?” he responds.

You smile as his mouth connects with yours, as his fingers trace swirls into your cheek, as his tongue drifts along your bottom lip before he catches it gently between his teeth.

“You taste like Oreos and Coke,” he murmurs.

“That’s what you gave me for breakfast,” you respond against his lips.

“I’ll have to do better next time.”

You look up at him after pulling away. “I thought it was perfect.”

He nods, his eyes perusing your face as his hand slips down to grasp yours. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.

You grin. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

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callsign-mirage

8 months ago

I never needed a season 2 so bad of a show the way I need season 2 of Julie and The Phantoms

The Phantom Whisperer

Chapter two: Maddie Makes Eye Contact

Summary: A bit of Maddie's past is revealed and how her love of music came to be. Julie performs with the boys while Maddie makes a discovery

*Author's Note: Chapter two!! I hope this chapter isn't too much exposition, I promise more character interaction is coming up.

A year ago, Maddie had a different air around her. She felt as though life could get better. Most days dragged on and were filled with long school days and homework. Those were balanced out with the ones she could find solitude. Maddie had gotten a babysitting job on the occasion her neighbors needed a date night, and their aunt wasn’t available. The Molina’s were her saving grace. When the had first moved in with a new baby and toddler, Maddie could listen to the sound of piano through her window.

One day after a trip to her latest psychologist, Maddie finally decided to go over and find the source to the music. She found a kind lady sitting in their garage lost in her melody. Rose Molina had a certain light about her that drew Maddie in. That day led to countless hours of Maddie sitting in the garage listening to anything Rose would play. She never knew music could have such a hold on her and her emotions. Rose could see how the young girl needed music in her life just as much as she did. From then on, she would teach Maddie whenever the girl stopped by. Even though Maddie loved her parents, Rose just understood her on a deeper level. Maddie’s parents stopped sending her to a doctor and instead bought her a piano.

When Rose’s daughter Julie got old enough to want to learn, they became a trio. Maddie could see how Julie was naturally gifted and would sit and watch as the mother and daughter wrote and played together. Julie felt as though she had a sister, one who she could share music with. Rose was thankful that she could pull these two girls together and loved their connection through musical notes and lyrics. Something so rare to see. But sadly, all good things come to an end.

Rose had passed, and this was felt through everyone around her. Julie couldn’t bare singing or playing anymore without her mother. Maddie had felt as though she had lost a mother and friend with Rose. It seemed easy for the two girls to drift apart. Both had gained an emptiness with the passing and couldn’t find the joy they once did. Maddie fell back into the cycle of long school days and homework. Her piano sat covered in dust and guitar stranded in the garage that she would never get the courage to go over and retrieve. Both felt lifeless now as had she. The stickers gifted by Rose still decorated the case, leaving a reminder to anyone who looked at it how loved the instrument used to be.

Unknown to Maddie, Julie had unleashed something that sparked her love for music again. Three boys who had died 25 years prior had taken up space in the garage and Julie’s life. The boys had asked Julie who the guitar belonged to since they didn’t recognize it as theirs. Julie gave it a long look before mentioning that it was an old friend's from long ago. The boys didn’t press further, even though they wanted to. They could feel the emotional pull Julie had with it.

______________________________________________________________

Maddie had a feeling today was going to be different. After her run in with the man in the street yesterday she didn’t stop by to see Willie this morning. Something felt off about the situation. Maybe he was a ghost and didn’t feel the need to deal with “lifers” as Willie called them. As she crowded in to the school assembly, she just hoped it would be over soon. Carrie was performing, and even though the girl was talented, she focused way too much into the theatrics in Maddie’s opinion. There wasn’t any depth to her music and Maddie believed that was the key to any good performer. Music just didn’t feel the same since she last saw Rose or spoke to Julie. Her bonds with music were broken and she didn’t feel the need to mend it. Sher forfeited her place in the music program to focus on school and trying to keep her parents at bay. They could see the emotional turmoil that was going on and tried to convince her that pushing away music isn’t what was good for her. That Rose wouldn’t want her to stop, but what did they know? Maddie said she knew what she was doing, or so she thought.

Just as she believed, Carrie’s performance was over the top. “What else did I expect?” She muttered to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie spotted Julie near the door. She felt her breathing stop for a second. Besides in quick passing, Maddie couldn’t bring herself to face Julie. The girl was like a sister to her, and it didn’t sit right that Julie had lost her mother while Maddie simply lost her friend. Julie had it worse and Maddie felt ashamed of herself for taking it so deep.

Maddie looked over to Julie once more and saw she wasn’t alone. She was with a group of boys. They seemed to be deep in conversation as the crowd had been sent back to class. She took another quick glance towards the group while still on the stands. Her eyes connected with the blonde boy. His eyes widened as he smacked the chest of the shorter brown-haired guy in the beanie. She quickly looked away and got up wanted to leave before Julie saw her.

“Dude! That girl was 100% making eye contact with me!” Alex exclaimed pulling the groups attention. They all turned around to find Maddie hastily making her way off the bleachers. Julie furrowed her eyebrows at her.

“What? There’s no way that she saw you.” Julie couldn’t look away. She hasn’t been able to talk to Maddie as much as she wanted to. Julie had lost a sister as much as a mother. Maddie pulling away from her broke her. She knew that Maddie felt the loss too and understood why she didn’t want to play anymore.

“No, I’m telling you, she was definitely looking at us.” Alex knew it wasn’t like when people normally look towards them and accidentally meets their eyes.

“Okay whatever! That doesn't matter right now. Julie, you need to go up their and show it to the man! That piano up here is calling your name.” Luke tried to redirect the attention towards the main goal. Julie needed to be back in the program and find her love for music again. He wanted her to know how talented she was. Maybe then their music could be heard. Julie let out a nervous breath of air and headed up towards the stage. The boys cheering her on. As the crowd realized she was singing they all gathered at the stage.

Maddie felt her heart pound in her chest as she watched the girl begin. She stood in the back and her eyes began to water. Little Julie was amazing. She knew that though, but to see her finally sing again struck a chord in her heart. She could feel Rose through every note. Maddie felt as though it was the first time that she sat in the garage with them again. But what shook her even more was when suddenly it wasn’t just Julie on stage. The boys from before appeared and began to play. The crowd went wild as they all sang and played the song with passion. Maddie had never seen a band more in sync with each other. It looked like they had known each other for years and were in tune with not just the music, but each other. Her heart swelled with pride. Julie had found her way back.

As the band finished up taking their bow, they disappeared as if it had just been Julie by herself the whole time. Maddie’s eyes widened and she spotted the boys on the side of the crowd. No one knew what to say as Julie laughed nervously.

“Was that a hologram?” one of Carrie’s crew voiced out making everyone get hyped up once again. Maddie shook her head. She had no idea what just happened, but she knew that it wasn’t a hologram. She could still see the boys from the side when it all hit her. They were ghosts.

“Oh Lord”

-Chapter three should be out soon! Hope you enjoyed:)-