#like at least give them some screen time! really hammer in that horror and tragedy!

[in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene]

You know what annoys me about Resident Evil 8? Why Leonardo turns into a lycan. Last I checked lycans were created by Miranda infecting someone with a cadou and the host having a poor affinity for it.

The cadou are these big squirmy parasites that don't seem easily transmissible. My understanding was that implanting a cadou took surgery and I'm sure that if Leonardo were experimented on by Miranda she wouldn't just let him go if he wasn't turning into a lycan or dying immediately. Even if his transformation into a lycan was merely triggered by nearly dying or exposure to another lycan instead of caused by it, when did Leonardo get implanted with a cadou in the first place?

Lycans aren't werewolves, despite the obvious inspiration they're their own unique thing. They're people who didn't outright die when implanted with a cadou but were still negatively mutated by it. Did the writers just forget how lycans worked for this one plot point? Was the lycan that attacked Leonardo a unique mutation?

Considering Leonardo turning into a lycan is why all the survivors died (which even then feels a little contrived) it comes across to me as a very forced, neat way to have Ethan meet the last of the survivors and then have them immediately die so we conveniently don't have to think about the villagers when Chris nukes the place or their own feelings about Miranda using and betraying them. They should've lived, or if they did die it should've been with far more of a struggle.

[reflectionsofacreator]

So like. I kinda sat down to write about this one, and I feel like I don’t know what to write about. There’s a lot to write about, but like... [scrubs face] it’s like, there’s a lot of emotional (sledge)hammers with this one, and it’s hard to pick apart so I can actually talk about it. Paralyzed by there being so much, you know? 

God writing this one was like pulling teeth, tbh. 

Buckle up lads, this one clocks in at over 2k. Mobile users I’m so sorry. 

I think the first thing I’m gonna tackle is the name of this one. It’s called The Truth, but in the context of Clay, that previously had an incredibly specific meaning. “The Truth” wasn’t so much a phrase as it was referring to the real truth of the Precursors and the nature of Eve and Adam, and the truth of humanity as a whole. Historically, every mention of “The Truth” around Clay refers to that specific idea, and now we have a new thing that uses the same name. It’s kind of interesting too, because the Truth that Clay shared was very explicitly something he was giving to other people, after learning about it for himself. And in this case, this is Truth that he’s being given, either about his situation, or the situation of his successor. 

This memory opens up with a doctor and Warren Vidic talking, after the episode that Clay had with the Bleeding Effect, and the doctor makes mention of Clay having been here a year already. He administers a medicine that’s actually an anti-psychotic, as a way of trying to stabilize Clay’s deteriorating mental state. There’s no guarantee that it’ll actually work, is the issue, mostly because the Bleeding Effect isn’t exactly a well known mental condition, and what everyone knows about it is simply what they’ve found out via the Subjects. Which is a very small group of people. I do wonder, though, about the Bleeding Effect as a .. hmm, genetic thing? It’s seeing the memories of your ancestors superimposed over your own perception of the world, and it’s implied that it’s because of the Precursor DNA that you can even have that happen, because it’s linked to Eagle Vision. Or at least, that’s what I’ve gotten so far, I could be completely wrong. 

The conversation with the doctor gets shooed away in favor of a conversation between Clay and his father, and like. I really wonder at the timing of it, if it’s supposed to be a conversation that Clay had while he was in Abstergo. It’s possible that it was a conversation that happened before Clay got sent in, but he sounds too resigned and weary I feel like, to have it happen outside of his imprisonment. Another reason why I feel like it’s after is because the last conversation we heard with Clay and his father was during the Bleeding Effect, when Clay was telling him about the Assassins, and things dissolved into a fight when Harold made it about money. This conversation feels like it’s a while after that, after Clay’s resigned himself to not being able to really convince his father of anything. 

Before Clay dives into the mainframe, there’s another glitch, which causes your controller to rumble. The screen goes noisy, and what shows is an exit at the end of a long walkway. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen glitches or hallucinations, but it’s freaky literally every time. 

We watch as Clay starts to hack through Abstergo’s systems after that, and the actual design of “going into” the mainframe is covered in a dozen different firewalls. It’s a neat sort of visual way to show just how hard Clay’s hacking is, as well as how many firewalls there are, because if he gets caught, he can get killed. 

Right before he goes in, on the right side of the “mainframe” is a code cipher. 

This is a Caesar cipher with an alphabetical shift of 3, and it reads  "Lucy, she Is aLways behind You." The capital letters spell out LILY -- traditionally lilies were associated with death. Now, you could interpret this as “Lucy’s got his back, she’s his teammate.” Which like, maybe. But with the addition of the word lily, and knowing that Lucy betrays him... nah. It’s more like she’s a threatening presence that needs to be watched. 

Clay snoops through Vidic’s mainframe and learns that Vidic is specifically after Desmond. Now, we know that this is at least over a year of Clay’s being here, and that Desmond was captured September 1st. What I’m really saying is just how long did Abstergo know about Desmond, and what lengths did they go to research him before they took him? Another question I have is like -- I know ac1 said that Abstergo found him via his fingerprints for his motorcycle license, but just how would that give them access to his genetic profile. Granted, that’s probably some early installment weirdness of ac1, but. (That being said, I remember reading a fic where they made mention of Desmond donating plasma for cash, and that’s how Abstergo found him, which is more believable than fingerprints....) 

I also can’t help but wonder like -- what’s going through Clay’s mind as he realizes that the Desmond Miles that Juno spoke of during his Bleed is the next Subject, and his successor? Or is it that he was completely unsurprised because Juno gave him a look into the possible future with the Calculations? 

Anyways, Clay finds out what Vidic wants, and excitedly says that they can leave, and we follow the path to see what looks like a broken stone circle at the base of two beams of light. 

(The wireframe is just the gameplay mechanic) I have... no earthly idea what this is, or what it could possibly mean. I think this is the only broken structure you see in all the memories, Desmond or Clay’s. It’s vaguely reminiscent of a broken film wheel, but I’m not sure if that’s what it’s supposed to be. But like, it’s so goddamn conspicuous because it’s the only broken structure we find. ls it supposed to symbolize a broken trust, a loss of faith after witnessing the “play” unfold?? .

Speaking of the “play”-- what the fuck. What the actual fuck. Is it supposed to make me uncomfortable? Because by god it did that. The sharp departure from how the rest of the narrative has been told is jarring as fuck, especially because it’s so like, proper. I swear, all that’s missing is like, a slightly off-key oldtimey music track and you’ll have a full blown horror segment. Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but like -- finding the broken wheel when that’s already something weird, having the camera forcibly taken away from you so you can watch this performance. And like, just listening to Warren monologue at Lucy is disturbing as well, for reasons that are hard to articulate. 

It’s like -- Meta wise, I know why she’s not talking. Her voice actress, Kristen Bell, had left and didn’t renew her contract (as her contract was only for 3 games), thus not being able to voice Lucy for any further appearances. IIRC, this is actually why Lucy was written to die, instead of simply recasting her, and then they had to scramble to make the “She’s a Templar!” twist work. Jury’s still out if it did or not, but like -- I do appreciate them trying to explain why she defected during her undercover years, but like... Ugh. It still leaves such a sour taste in my mouth, because it’s obviously a writing scramble and not a cohesive narrative that was plotted from the beginning. 

For a comparison, Clay’s story and ultimate fate feels complete, it feels alright. Yeah, it’s arguably a worse fate than Lucy, he died twice over, but like. We knew he was dead from the first moment we saw him, we knew that there was only one way that this could really go, a tragedy. There was a clear progression of his story, and the fact that you know how it ends. That being said, I do wonder about Clay’s death as a Subject in ac2, before the plotbeats of Lucy being a Templar were set in stone for Brotherhood. I know that the 20 glyphs in ac2 did talk about how Lucy was there when Clay killed himself, but I kinda doubt that it was in the same context of “she was supposed to save him but deliberately betrayed him due to her loyalties”. I guess what I’m getting at is that Lucy’s story feels terrible due to the writing surrounding it, while Clay’s feels deliberately terrible because that was the point. 

Back to my original point of “Lucy not talking”-- while there is a meta reason for it, I kinda want to ascribe a narrative reason, despite the meta outweighing the narrative. 

Lucy is characterized by almost never showing the full extent of her feelings or motivations, leaving you to wonder what’s actually going on in her head constantly. Sure, she leaned on Desmond a lot, but there’s also an undercurrent of a power imbalance there, and we always got the sense that she kept more to herself than she revealed. By having Warren talk at her, we’re further kept from knowing just what she felt about all of this, and instead we’re given another glimpse of the strange relationship that Warren and Lucy had. 

Warren was her boss, but also her superior in the Templar order, and the man who saved her life from his own company. Back in ac1, Lucy recounts to Desmond how she was attacked in the middle of the night, going to be silenced by Abstergo so she couldn’t talk about the Animus, only for Warren to save her life by telling the men to stand down. The assailants were people that she interacted with every day, even ate lunch with. This is after she’d been with Abstergo for a while, and finally feeling like she was being taken seriously with her work (as well as her undergrad thesis/work) she was going to be killed to keep quiet. We don’t actually know why Warren saved her, but it’s my firm belief that that’s when Lucy changed alliances to the Templars.

However, I do wonder about the confrontation between Lucy and Warren at the end of ac2, during the credits. I know, I know, her being a Templar wasn’t really a thing in ac2 (I think), so therefore you have to take it all with a grain of salt, but like. The conversation here brings attention to it, where Warren tells her “Make sure you look very upset. You need to be convincing.” And I can’t help but wonder if Warren and Lucy ended up trading insults that hit way too close to home in order to further the deception... It wouldn’t be hard to pretend to be hurt if she actually was hurt by what he said, y’know? 

I think the last thing about Warren’s speech that really bugs me is like -- he tacks on the whole “Oh, yes. Once inside their hideout, perhaps you might ask the Assassins why they left you alone for so many years.” And like. That just gets under my skin in a lot of ways because like-- he’s got a point, the Assassin’s methods are Rather Horrible™ with how they completely cut her off for a deep cover mission at seventeen (no I will not ever be over that), but the way he says it just. He’s clearly manipulating her to entrench her further onto his own side, and I just. Ngh. I kinda wonder if the delivery of the line was intended for the audience rather than Lucy herself, because she already knows all this, and for him to bring it up feels like an insult to her intelligence. It feels kinda slimy in a way that I can’t really describe. Or maybe it’s just because I just do NOT like Vidic. 

There’s also the question of like, how did Clay see this -- this is all dramatized for the sake of us, the audience, but did he watch this via video feeds or something??? The thought of him watching Lucy and Warren talk about his successor is kinda jarring tbh. Also this throws a wrench into the ending of ac1 (though tbh what DOESN’T throw a wrench into ac1) where they were going to dispose of Desmond only for Lucy to intervene. Is it because Warren and Lucy were operating on their own project that wasn’t exactly approved by the Templar higher ups?? Or something?? 

This whole memory says that Desmond was their goldmine for the amount of genetic information he held, so why would the higher ups -- wait. Unless the whole thing was a ploy by having Lucy speak up in “defense” of Desmond in order to get him to trust her some more.... Hrm.... Granted that fits, it’s just a sort of way of re-contextualizing the ending of ac1... 

Waves hand anyways Clay finds out about this plan for Lucy to gain Desmond’s trust and give them the data, and then we finally have control again. There’s this sort of distorted error noise, and the red blocks start to fill up the room, threatening you as they force you closer and closer to the screen, which only shows a picture of a door with a strange symbol on top of it. 

This is the symbol for 3 Juno, an asteroid in our solar system that’s the 11th largest, and contains 1% of total mass of the asteroid belt. It was discovered September 1st, 1804, by Karl Ludwig Harding, and initially considered to be a planet, along with a few other asteroid/dwarf planets at the time. It was given this symbol, ⚵, like how Mercury, Venus, and Jupiter all have their own symbols. 

Aside from the obvious “hey that’s Juno, she’s the big bad of this shit”, there’s a couple things that stood out to me. The date of discovery, September 1st -- that’s the same date that Desmond got captured by Abstergo, gives me pause. I’m not sure if it’s something that was intentional on the dev’s part, or if they were just looking for a symbol that would represent Juno. Either way, that’s enough of a coincidence that it makes me feel unsettled, the same way that Lucy was bothered by the date of the satellite launch being 72 days away. It might just be an honest coincidence, but considering that this is Clay we’re dealing with... nah. 

Another thing that the AC wiki told me is that this is also the symbol for the Instruments of the First Will, an in-universe religious organization that worships the Precursors, and specifically Juno. Now, this organization doesn’t actually appear until at least ac4 Black Flag, and continues on all the way through Syndicate. This is more like an early bird cameo than a full blown reference, as we still have to get through ac3, But it’s still interesting to point out and look at, and wonder what’s going on with it all. 

Anyways, the door itself is actually part of the screen, and impassible, and it stays that way as the bricks come closing in, chasing you. It’s really tense tbh, with this feeling of claustrophobia on top of the revelations you were forced to watch. It also doesn’t help that like. You had control wrenched away from you so you could watch the conversation, and the speech was long enough to lull you into maybe putting your controller down to watch, and then with a rumble you suddenly have control again and are being chased towards a door that doesn’t open. 

The picture of a door becomes an actual door after the blocks get closer and closer, and we break through into the light, and onto memory 7.

If you like what I do, or want to see any other sort of analysis, consider buying me a ko-fi!

[dunkalfredo]

Mirage Springs (Home Sweet Home)

The protagonist: a young Gadget the Wolf.

The setting: a time when things were... simpler.

(Infidget, except it's that shared Old Friends AU I have with @theashemarie)

AO3 | FFN

yo yo yo what up im back at it again. I think I've only posted during- and post-war so far???? Yeah I think so. this should be somethin new for yall

warnings warn brief animal violence and also implied/referenced character death

anyways heres wonderwall be sure to like comment and subscribe to my youtube c

Gadget doesn’t dream about his father per say, but a few months out from the accident and the funeral and the beginning of it all his dreams get… unpleasant.

Always traumatic. Disaster, tragedy, bodily harm, his mother, trapped, his own self, broken and immobile. He wakes up with a prancing heart and pains in his neck, like his head was moving but there was resistance, a pillow in the way. Advil never really helps. He pretends it does.

One night, he spends all of two hours asleep, the second dreaming of a feral dog tearing a cat into two with its teeth. He hears the procession of the cat’s screeches so vividly, struggles with the molasses around his bones as he looks around at the others in the room, wondering if he should look outside, out the window at the sources of the screeches and the dying. Eventually, he does, and finds Finn, his best friend, one he hasn’t seen in person for years and only in grainy jpegs on his monitor, wrestling the wrangled parts of the cat from the bared fangs of the dog, horror pulling at his features in strange, uncomfortable shapes.

Gadget wakes up ten minutes before his alarm. He doesn’t shut it off.

It rings a few times, the peaceful, lighthearted marimbas that normally fill Gadget with destructive intent only reminding him of the hours ahead of him, hours undoubtedly to be filled with migraines and a putrid sickness in his stomach.

He stumbles down the stairs with Frankenstein feet, legs that don’t really fit him and feel short and stubby and long and gangly at the same time, legs that stick out from his body at odd angles, bones that grew too fast and in the wrong places. He sees his mom, Helen, in the kitchen, still and focused on the kitchen counter (empty) and he decides to tell her.

“We need to move.”

It’s the rain outside that sets him off. He sees it in the window behind his mother, feels it in his bones like little hammers against his marrow, chipping away bits and pieces with every impact until there’s nothing left to support his innards and his flesh. Rain, obscuring, blinding, slippery. Too wet and too slick for city tires. Too obtrusive to the eyes of a crowded interstate. Too enticing for accidents, for metal cars with disgustingly fragile bodies inside of them.

Gadget wants to get as far from the rain as possible.

Helen maintains that obsessive, hollow gaze at the counter tile, and only nods, mechanical and noncomprehensive. Gadget hums, accepting it for now and deciding that, maybe later, he’ll ask again, when she’s had food and a good night’s rest. He knows she didn’t sleep last night. Her pacing kept him up. He wanted to join her.

He didn’t, continuing to stare at his wall and eventually dreaming of rabid dogs and festering cat corpses.

-

Ultimately, it’s a matter of waiting for the house market to open and for Gadget to finish eighth grade, though perhaps not quite in that order. The where isn’t an issue, because there’s only one place that holds the familiarity they desperately need while also giving them needed, necessary space, and the “how” of the matter is settled with his father’s now liquidated assets.

So, July.

There’s the sad, forlorn, empty husk of Gadget that feels close to nothing about this, but then there’s this small, hopeful spark, created and fueled by a face he hasn’t seen properly since a distant, warm but entirely too fuzzy childhood, connected now only to a username tattooed to the back of his brain. Moving has one big, tangible perk, one that’s not centered on recovery, on death, on rain, and he didn’t realize it was there until he was halfway through listening to his mother speak with the realter on the phone.

A familiar face. A friend.

The revelation only reminds him of the loneliness, but. But. That spark shines a little brighter.

-

In May, they finalize the lease for the new homeowners and work on packing (there’s not much, and Helen has a distressing vastness to her knowledge on quick moving shortcuts; Gadget knows why and has never asked for details. Helen never gave them. It’s better that way).

Gadget’s quick to hop on his laptop as soon as he gets off packing duty, perched on the fat windowsill he used to furnish with pillows and blankets to make a makeshift couch (there’s a word for this sort of window-couch, he knows, but he can’t quite reach back in the recesses of his brain to find it, nor can he find the will or energy to care).

AIM is open and chippering happily when he opens the lid. As soon as the window pops up, he sees Finn’s gargantuan mix of x’s and numerals waiting eagerly for his return.

Gadget’s fingers fly over the keyboard. Mmmmmmmhenlo!!!! finally got the lease signed. were packing right now

He receives immediate whiplash as Finn spams a long, dark block of capital A’s.

Gadget types back, quick and a bit snippy: please don’t break ur a key ull give ur mom a scare

Finn, after hesitation and a guilt that seeps straight into the texts and out of Gadget’s monitor, responds with a single, solemn, h.

thank u, Gadget types.

They launch into quick, idle chatter after that, slowly morphing into something more thoughtful as the hours wear on until Finn sends, after a brief pause: u think ull recognize me?

Gadget’s chest collapses slightly, not quite a sigh but a hefty release of breath regardless. I mean. ive seen pictures but. I dunno

When a quiet, hesitant ‘we’ll see’ flashes across the screen, Gadget flinches, only to force his eyes closed and away from the affronting text. He breathes, in, out, shallow but to a slow count of ten.

It’s just Finn, unsure and insecure and afraid. He’s always worried, Gadget tells himself. He’s paranoid.

But there’s a brief image in his mind of himself looking out at the swarm of bodies in the airport, lugging a suitcase of clothes behind him and a ticket, punched, in his hand, with no one there to greet him.

He doesn’t know if he could handle that.

He doesn’t want to find out.

-

July. Humid in the north, but bone-dry in the south. That should’ve made it better. It didn’t.

Gadget forgot just how heavy the sun felt in Mirage Springs, and in that brief stretch between plane cabin and port entrance, he’s reminded with vivid, visceral clarity just how much he loathes the heat, even if it doesn’t stick to his neck like it did back home. At least, at home, he didn’t worry about blistered feet and heat stroke.

He tries not to take it as a bad omen, as a sign that this was a bad idea, but it sits in the pit of his stomach and grows fetid.

It doesn’t help that he aches, that his knees creak after stuck in artificial, harsh angles for so long, that his ears pop every now and then without warning because the plane was high but the mountains and trees up north were even higher.

He’s hurt, and tired, and nervous, and overall in a sour, worn mood (not helped by the long minutes spent in one security check after another), and there’s little pomp and circumstance when he’s finally out in the open with his meagre luggage behind him and plane ticket crinkled between his fingers.

Then, he sees Finn.

Or, rather, his mother Helen sees Finn, and he only sees Finn after she puts a knowing hand on Gadget’s shoulder and says, “I’ll go back for the rest of the luggage.”

And she leaves, and it’s just him, and Finn (and an entire airport, but that’s unimportant).

Gadget doesn’t know why he ever worried; Finn sticks out like a sore thumb. Not in stature, the shrinking violet he was, but definitely in the black everything and the thick, sturdy, too-hot boots and the long, long, chaos it was so long hair and really, even without all of that, his scar made him look like some rogue mercenary lost in a swarm of unfittingly normal people, loose from the trail of his target and aimless in his search for a way back on.

There’s no warning before Gadget is, in every sense of the word, swept off his feet.

“You’re back!” Finn booms with every ounce of air in his lungs, voice cracking like an egg on a floor but pitch reaching an unnerving deepness for a teen his age. Gadget’s overwhelmed, with all the earth-shaking timber of Finn’s voice roaring right next to his ear and the room spinning around him and the lack of ground under his feet and, wait, no ground, wait…

Gadget’s placed firmly on his feet mere seconds after the hug-and-spin that was needlessly thrust upon him (though he’d later reflect that, perhaps in other circumstances, maybe he would actually enjoy it, just a little), and his first words are not heartfelt, or gentle, but just as booming as Finn and with alarming distress: “You’re tall!”

This is just about shouted into Finn’s chest (Gadget is still being hugged (and is hugging back, undeniably)) and Finn only knows he said anything over the rumble of the surrounding airport because of the vibrations Gadget’s creaking tenor voice leaves in his chest (proximity, not power).

Finn pulls back, troubled by the tone and not sure what to make of it, simply responding with a dazed, panicked, “Yeah?” that cracks at the end.

His panic is furthered, if only for a moment, by Gadget’s subsequent movements of hand comparison, that funny maneuver where the hand, palm down, is dragged from the top of one’s head straight across to the other person, and Gadget lets out a distraught squeak when his hand bumps against the center of Finn’s sternum.

“What?!” This is Gadget speaking, or rather borderline hollering, as he stares exasperated at Finn. Then, just like that, he deflates. His head hangs. It’s a pity party for one.

Finn stands there, completely dumbfounded, watching his friend stew in his own misery, then walking forward to pat his back with the finesse expected from a young, awkward teenage boy. “There, there,” Finn soothes.

He receives a small, saddened whimper in response.

Later, when Gadget’s home and nestled in a neat corner of his bare room, it dawns on him that Finn’s boots had heels. His ears pop again.

B L E A S E reblog i beg of u my crops are dying

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/supernatural-various-sundry-villains-kill-darlings/

'Supernatural' Various & Sundry Villains: Kill Your Darlings

Okay, I’m going to be upfront, I was ready to be super underwhelmed by last week’s Supernatural episode “Various & Sundry Villains.” All of the promotion focused on the love spell, and frankly, we’ve been there, done that. In fact, I’m shocked that showrunner Andrew Dabb let this pitch go to script given that he wrote the controversial episode “Season 7 Time for a Wedding”, an episode that I can honestly say has only one truly redeeming quality: Leslie Odom, Jr. was in it. While this was arguably derivative of that episode, giving this the go ahead was risky on Dabb’s part. It paid off for writer, Steve Yockey, because this love spell outing was much better than the last. In the opening of this episode we meet the Plum sisters, and I hate to say this, but despite watching this episode three times I don’t actually remember their first names and I could barely tell them apart anyway, so we’ll just call the one Dean “falls in love with” Harley Quinn and the other one we’ll call… Harley Quinn’s little sister? Yeah, sure, why not? Between the cutesy valley girl verbiage and the bloody sledgehammer, I’m sure we were supposed to get an Arkham Asylum vibe off these two. At least, I really hope that was the intention. I’ll be honest, I was not impressed with these characters and I’m not sure if it was off writing, off casting, or off directing, but they felt really forced. From their overly stereotypical Millenial way of speaking to their overtly blatant mirroring of Sam and Dean (yes, we get it, one is younger and brainy, they other is older and protective, they’re obsessed with their dead mom and it could go badly, was that a hammer they were using or an anvil?) the Plum sisters, unlike their Winchester counterparts, came off as grating. Maybe they were supposed to? Again, I hope so. I will say that as a horror buff I enjoyed the return of Rowena’s mad dog spell and the demise of the Plum sisters at each other’s hands. I saw a lot of people say it was too much, too gratuitous, too gory. And perhaps it was, but given the movies I regularly watch and enjoy, well, I embraced it. While I will say I’m glad the love spell portion of the episode was short-lived, it’s always fun to see Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki show off their comedy elbow chops; Ackles with the perfectly timed glibness he brings to Dean Winchester and Padalecki’s Sam Winchester, ever the earnest Abbott to Ackles’ Costello, was subtle, stoic faced gold. Ackles and Padalecki got to play off each other magnificently in this episode; from Dean walking in practically floating on a love cloud, to Sam trying desperately to remind Dean they’ve been down this weird love spell road before, to Ackles’ delivery of “‘cause she’s got a sister”, to their tussle in front of the Impala (though, dang, these boys horseplay hard given the butt dent Sam left on the hood after Dean rushed him) the two actors smoothly show how well they work together no matter the material. But the star of this episode was Rowena. Her entrance was stellar, and she stole every scene. Ruth Connell is delightful in this role and for the most part (we’ll get to that later) I was glad to see her back because I was sorry to lose her last season, especially in such a cheap, off-screen way. I’m hard-pressed to fall for new characters, but Rowena is one that I really enjoy. Connell was able to give us comedy and tragedy in this episode, going from snark to desperation fluidly. I also have to give Steve Yockey heaps of credit for having Rowena not only ask about Crowley but allowing her to have an outburst about his death. Hearing her say that she’d rather have him alive than to have died a hero hit really close to home given that the lack of Mark Sheppard as Crowley has been quite the gaping hole this season. Take a note from Yockey, other writers, because I’m still waiting for Castiel to ask about Meg… Speaking of Castiel, he and Lucifer were locked up. Now they aren’t. And like, they had a whole big penis to penis measurement contest and Castiel for some reason tried to hurt Lucifer by telling him that Jack doesn’t even look like him, which… um, Lucifer is in the image of a seasons dead vessel so, of course, he doesn’t look like him. And also, when did you get to know so much about Jack, Castiel? I think maybe the writer accidentally gave Misha Collins some of Sam’s lines to say. If I sound like I was less than moved by any of these scenes, it’s because I wasn’t. The scenes weren’t objectively bad or anything, and not only has Mark Pellegrino has found his footing as Lucifer again, but he and Collins play extremely well off each other. Unfortunately, their scenes simply didn’t mesh well with the “A” plot and the dichotomy crashed the episode’s momentum. Although, I did enjoy both characters reminding each other what untrustworthy, hypocritical screw-ups both have been. Again, I appreciate it when Supernatural is self-aware like that because fallibility gives depth and interest. Now, you didn’t think I was going to review this episode and not talk about Sam and Rowena sharing their trauma, did you? Because that was a scene that many Supernatural fans have waited years for. In season 11, Sam was forced to not only work with Lucifer, but he had to allow Lucifer into his home, into his room, and wasn’t allowed to voice any grievances about it and while Padalecki did a phenomenal job adding little twitches and moments of tight body language and subtle distance, it was all too obvious that the writers were wary of taking Sam’s trauma seriously because at the time Lucifer was possessing Castiel’s body and the “Cassifer" version of Lucifer was played mostly as a joke throughout that entire arc, nothing but a bratty teenager throwing a tantrum, while Sam Winchester, the boy who had every reason to rip into both Lucifer and God, just stood on the sidelines silently like he was totally fine. But he wasn’t, he hasn’t been, and watching Sam and Rowena both delve into the trauma and abuse they experienced at Lucifer’s hand was fantastically written and acted. Yockey was able to give the characters just enough for them to convey, through their tone, inflections, and facial expressions how much they were, no are, broken by the Devil himself. Having them both admit to seeing Lucifer’s real face, while giving no descriptive details was brilliant. Both Padalecki and Connell were able to communicate to the audience how horrific it was for their characters without any unnecessary detail. Such a great “show, don’t tell” moment; it’s so much more frightening for the viewer to fill in the blanks. And Sam explaining that it isn’t that he’s okay, it’s that he never gets the chance to fully deal with his trauma because the world is always falling apart was both heartbreaking and much needed, not only for Sam to say it but for the audience to hear it. At the end of this episode we got to see the other side of the Ackles/Padalecki chemistry, their ability to rip your heart out, when Sam and Dean have a frank discussion back at the bunker about what to do going forward. Dean knowing that Sam gave Rowena the spell she wanted and instead of yelling and belittling him, he’s simply honest and direct with him and doesn’t question Sam when he says that if Rowena played him again, he’ll personally kill her. It was also good to hear Sam be open with Dean about how defeated he feels, about how he tried to mask that with conviction and hope, but that he can’t fake it til he makes it anymore. And while Dean’s words of encouragement and confidence may seemingly ring hollow to Sam, it’s not because Sam doesn’t have faith in Dean, it’s that right now he can’t see where Dean is coming from. Dean knows, because characters have told him for years, how important he and Sam are, how they keep this world spinning, but Sam has never heard it directly, not from God, not from Amara, not from Death, not from Billie. Those declarations have only been uttered to Dean and then conveyed by Dean to Sam, so Dean knows that they’ll figure out a way, that it’s basically destiny and Sam has no choice but to take Dean’s word for it. I could go on and on about the isolation of Sam Winchester, but that’s an article for a different day. [caption id="attachment_53290" align="aligncenter" width="696"] Photo: Home of the Nutty[/caption] Overall, this was a mytharc episode done well, slightly overstuffed as most mytharc episodes are, but coherent and well paced with a fantastic blend of horror, levity, and angst. That said, the last thing I want to touch on for this episode is something that was absolutely no fault of the writer, Steve Yockey, but I think is an increasing problem on Supernatural; the element of surprise is gone, as are the stakes. Supernatural was once known as a show where rocks fell, and everyone died. It was also a show where Jim Beaver once hid his reprisal of Bobby Singer by trying to convince fandom that he was in Vancouver shooting an abominable snowman movie so that his return to the show wasn’t spoiled Fast forward just a few years and the cast, crew, and network PR are spoiling character reveals weeks, even months in advance. Instead of being shocked by Rowena’s return we all went into this episode waiting for her appearance, and while we saw Castiel stab Lucifer with an angel blade; saw the red light go out of Lucifer’s eyes; it’s all for naught. Lucifer is the focus of the promo that aired right after the episode, and the synopsis for the next episode lays out exactly what he’ll be up to. Even last season finale, no one believed Castiel was actually permanently dead. Hell, it took Mark Sheppard declaring that he refuses to ever reprise his role for fans to believe Crowley was truly dead. No stakes means no emotional payoff. No secrecy means no shock and awe. Take a page from some of the greats, Supernatural, including yourself: what’s dead should stay dead, so kill your darlings and if you must bring them back, stop telegraphing their returns. Check out this week's Supernatural Devil's Bargain trailer above.

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