bugs. episode of all time. has a 6.8 star IMDB rating when every other s1 episode averages around 8-9. the opening shot of sam lying sluttily on the hood of the impala. sam and dean being mistaken for a gay couple looking to buy property. sam and dean pretending to be a gay couple looking to buy property. "okay honey". dean slapping sam on the ass? the only time in the show i've seen sam and dean use umbrellas (finding out that kripke never wanted them to use umbrellas bc they weren't manly enough??) sam and dean breaking and entering and squatting :") a kid with a bug fixation, ostracised by his dad, who sam has an immediate connection with. winchester family dynamics. bugs as the ghost of settler colonial violence haunting American suburban gentrification. bugs as a metaphor for how fragile the facade of white picket fence suburbia really is. sam and dean aren't able to kill their way out of this week's monster. all they're able to do is save people, temporarily. they don't get to break the curse, and that's the point. it's bigger than either of them. hunting as a cycle of frontier violence perpetuating itself, and for once there are no black-or-white solutions. supernatural will never deal with this theme again! anyways, they put cast and crew in a room with 65000 bees but the damned bees didn't show up properly on camera so they ended up using CGI bees. they look horrible.
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the one with the shacker shirt | more frat king steve x his problem causing bf eddie
a mini collab with @amethyst-crowns !!
it’s a cool friday night and eddie’s two tequila shots, a handful of beers, and a cigarette into his setlist at this point. their dedicated few fans are up front and center scream singing along with them while the rest of the bar is bustling with life.
with drinks being spilled, food being ordered and then forgotten about, sorority girls having deep meaningful talks in the bathroom so long their boyfriends’ forgot they were there.
it’s a friday night at his favorite college bar and eddie is buzzing with energy.
he’s got his guitar slung over his back and he’s taking a beer break, eyes scanning over the room in search of his favorite boy. he’s probably somewhere charming his way into free drinks in a way that never fails to leave eddie laughing and a bit baffled. he gets it though, everybody else is just as wrapped around steve’s finger as he is so he can’t say anything.
he’s talking to the guys, kicking a couple empty cans offstage when he sees them out of the corner of his eye.
two guys, probably eddie’s age, maybe seniors. they’re flagging him over and looking around suspiciously and eddie thinks that if they’re interested in buying, this is an awful strange time to approach him about it.
he’s about to break the news, tell them he’s not selling tonight when one of them smiles and claps his shoulder when he squats down to their height.
“hey man, we don’t want you to get in trouble so we figured we’d tell you before someone else did.” he says with a nod. says it like eddie will catch on, like he’ll know what this is about.
he doesn’t.
he furrows his brows and looks at them, confused. “pardon?”
the second guy tugs at the hem of eddie’s shirt, darts his eyes around conspiratorially again. “you gotta turn this inside out of something, bro. pledges can’t wear letters out until initiation. vp rec will hand you your ass if he hears about it.”
the first guy is all but hissing in his ear in his effort to be quiet. “yeah AND the president’s here, man. we’re just looking out for you.”
eddie glances down at his own chest, realizing for the first time what shirt he grabbed off the back of steve’s desk chair this morning.
it’s not his that’s for sure. it’s definitely his boyfriend’s. big, bold greek letters across the chest. ink peeling off and threadbare around the waist. the arm holes more hole than shirt at this point.
he smiles back up at the guys, finally figuring out what this is about.
he huffs a quiet laugh and his knees crack when he stand back up. he hears gareth mindlessly drumming his sticks against his stool so he knows his break’s over. pulls his guitar back around to his chest and bows.
“well i appreciate your looking out for me, gentlemen. but… i think i’ll take my chances.”
he hears a scoff and a muffled “whatever, man” and a “not my fucking problem, i guess.”
but whatever he’s not paying any attention.
the mic squeals when he walks up to it and he’s got a thousand-watt smile and an apology on his lips immediately after.
“ah shit, sorry, sorry guys- my bad.” he backs up a step and squints against the harsh light, still searching for his boy. “before this next one, i’m looking for someone. baby? baby, where are you? can you come up here sweetheart?”
he looks toward the back of the crowd and sees steve’s bright smile and glassy eyes as he shoulders his way up front. sees how he stops to talk to a few people, say hi, dap up a couple of the guys. but he makes it up the front of the stage in record time given all that, regardless.
“there you are! missed you,” he says before he’s leaving his mic again and dropping down to his knees.
now he’s low enough that steve can tangle a hand in his unruly curls and tug him forward and down. can tug him close enough the he feels his breath against his lips when he whispers “will you play my favorite?”
he knows his own smile is bright as the sun.
“of course, baby.”
when steve kisses him, messy and like he’s putting on a show, eddie can’t help but overhear the “what?” and “oh that’s him?” coming from the side stage.
there are a lot of perks to being steve’s boyfriend. but that response is always one of his favorites.
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Okay if you haven't yet, and you have Netflix/Paramount+, consider giving "School Spirits" a chance.
It looks like a silly little cheesy teenage ghosts show, I put it on for background noise, and then got totally engrossed in the mystery. It's VERY well written, very well filmed, the mystery was GREAT and the payoff at the end is also great.
One of the things majorly lacking in shows I've recently tried to watch is that they try to do a twist/reveal at the end that comes out of nowhere. They don't want you to guess what they're doing. This show doesn't do that. This show wants you to guess. They give you seven different mysteries and enough clues to guess (most of) what is going on, so that when you get the final puzzle piece to any given mystery, it feels GREAT.
The story premise is this: a teenager in hs wakes up as a ghost in the hs, and doesn't remember how she died, and with the help of the other ghosts, tries to solve the mystery of her own death.
Simple premise. BEAUTIFULLY executed. Not all of the questions that arise get answered, but the main one (what she doesn't remember) gets solved by the end of the season, leaving the "why/how and what comes next" to be carried to the next season. It does a cliffhanger RIGHT. But now I desperately want to see the second season (which I believe has been approved, so it's a matter of waiting).
So pretty please, if you're looking for something to do and a great, engaging lil mystery to watch, consider! School Spirits!!
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(nsfw, mdni)
"we're gonna be really late, y'know?" you whisper against nanami's shoulder, your words cut off by a sudden gasp that slips out of your lips without you realising. once your breath steadies and your shaking thighs can support you again, you continue. "the reservation is at seven, and it's nearly --"
"then we'll be late," he replies, pressing an adoring kiss against the crown of your head, "they can wait."
even now, he seems effortlessly composed. the only hint of any loss of control is how his chest rises and falls slightly faster than normal, paired with the faintest pink flush spreading across his cheekbones. besides that, he seems completely unperturbed at the idea of missing a reservation at his favourite restaurant.
"that's out o-of character," you mumble fondly, feeling the fabric of the couch imprint against your knees as you lower yourself down again, your grip on nanami's bare shoulders leaving little crescent-moon indentations on his skin. "you-you're the punctual one, aren't you?"
a shift of his thighs beneath your own and his hips are pressed flush against yours, the thrust knocking the air from your chest.
"the difference is," he says, deep voice hushed but tinged with barely-concealed lust, "that i only watch the clock for things i don't like doing. and right now, i can't think of any place else i'd rather be than-" - he pulls out, letting air back into your lungs, before grabbing your hips and speeding up the rhythm until your vision blurs, "- right here, with you looking so pretty on top of me."
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