She is Poetry & Prozac... (freneticfloetry) wrote,
She is Poetry & Prozac...

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This is going to make even less sense than it usually does, because show, you killed me dead.

Was I the only one mourning for KAZ 2Y5? I know sacrifices must be made in the name of freedom and for the good of the fight and all, and paranoid!Sam and nonchalant!Dean tried to make up for it, but I was not appeased.

Dean, sweetie, you were asking for it. Seriously. You'd have a shit fit if Sam went prowling around the ruins of a Djinn-infested warehouse by himself, and you know it. (And also... do you just happen to have lamb's blood in the trunk of the Impala, or is there an acceptable generic you can swap out? Like some form of roadkill?)

I'm usually amused when Jensen manages to unbeautify himself and journey to the faraway lands of not pretty, but the eyes just creeped me out.

"The gin attacked you?" Well, well. Looks like I've got myself a new favorite Sammy moment.

The "honey" thing bugged me. Dean's just not a "honey" kind of guy. "Babe," yes. "Baby," sure. "Sweetie," even. I don't know... maybe it's too domestic and formal and Leave It to Beaver for me.

Aaaaaand they've commenced with the killing.

He thinks she's beautiful, and that it's great John went in his sleep. Peacefully. Because anything else... I stopped, briefly, to think about what that meant in the big picture - this is his fondest wish, and John's still dead? What does that say? Couldn't explore it further, because suddenly I couldn't swallow correctly. The face, and the voice, and the little hitch of breath, and Oh, Dean.

And then they redeem themselves (and give me a much-needed break) with Dean stuffing his face. That, my friends, will never get old. Ever. The whole "mowing the lawn" angle was a double-edged sword. One the one hand, highly humorous. On the other, he's never mowed a lawn before. One of these days, we have to start a running list of things they more-than-likely never experienced during childhood. Like Slip-n-Slides.

Sam's yuppie rental car was the epitome of perfection. You just know he'd fold himself into something cheap and fuel-efficient. (Is it just me, or did Jess waddle a bit getting out of the car? For a minute there, I thought they were going to pan down to a poignant pregnancy belly.) Awww, Dean's letting go of his guilt and heartsickness by squeezing the very life out of his brother's dead girlfriend. I'm not sure if he's just happy she's alive in general, or happy because Sam never had to go through losing her. Or both. Either way, too cute, tad heartbreaking.

So Dean's that guy, huh? For Sam, anyway. The "stuck in his hometown, forgets his mother's birthday, permanently-attached to a beer" guy. Suddenly all the "have you been drinking"s and "the gin attacked you"s make sense. And make me sad.

The celery teepee of doom is priceless. I say long live Carmen the imaginary girlfriend, for inherently knowing that her man needs meat. She's made up for the "honey." Jess' engagement ring, meanwhile, is appropriately tiny. Not "where's the diamond?" tiny, but "my fiance is in law school" tiny. Cheers to Kripke & Co. for the realism.

Living Dead Girl is such a bad omen. We all know what's coming, but can they at least eat in peace? It's the last supper, people.

Okay... of all the things that have hurt so far, nothing burns like "Since when do you call me Sammy?" Oh Jared, you freakishly huge manchild, I have new respect for you. Going in, I didn't really believe you could pull off taking a step back from the vibe you two have, all that familiarity and affection and respect, but you sold it. Especially with that last look, the one that said Sure, Dean, we'll go hunting. Whatever you say.

I officially like Imaginary Girlfriend. I'll be sorry to see her go (especially when the real-life alternative is Cassie. Bleh.). And while Dean opines that it's so damn respectable that she's a nurse, I think it's totally fitting. That he would be dating someone who helps people. Who saves people. It's just like him. Plus, you know they totally play Doctor after hours.

Dean playing Research Boy makes me hurt again. And then, dammit, there's no break - they throw me right into The Talk, The Talk, where it's pitch black and dead quiet and he's alone with ghosts and graves and headstones and memories of his father that never even happened here. Gone is the One Perfect Tear - he's just crying, and talking, and not so much imitating John as channeling him. Dean knows what the answer would be. Not from this man, the father in a marked grave, buried in a place of honor, but from Dad, the man he had to burn himself. He absolutely knows. The little fight that followed may have hinted at the pilot with a big stage whisper, but this was the first nudge, for me. This whole scene. You can never go home again.

"I can't believe we're even related." Well yeah, many of us had that problem in the beginning. You'll wise up, Sammy.

And he did! Wow, that was quick. And here's the Sam we know and love, following Dean into something highly dangerous and slightly stupid because, whatever else they are (or aren't), they're still brothers. (And suddenly there's Patty Griffin playing in my head - sometimes I lay down, no more can I do / but then I go on again, because you asked me to...) The return of early-S1 panicked and wary Sam was fitting, as was Dean tossing his phone out the window. I love that everybody saw it coming except Sam. And your Sam would've said "jerk" without blinking, Deano. But this isn't your Sam, is it?

Case in point: he fell asleep. And not even Sam-asleep, just hovering on the edge. He was passed out on the window, catching full-out, road trip Zs. So ignorant, so ill-prepared. He's in for such a rude awakening.

I didn't mean the flashlight, but that works, too.

Of course they'd find Living Dead Girl inside. And riiight about the time the Djinn started doing plasma shots, it hit me. And I broke a little. Luckily, Dean's epiphany wasn't far behind. And what a stroke of genius this was. Let's be honest - in this situation, the only person Dean was capable of killing was himself. If getting out involved stabbing Mary or slicing Sam's throat, he'd be living out his days in his own head, and we know it. Even on his best day, it's not something he could bring himself to do - to hurt someone he loves, with his own hands. But here, faced with Sam's happiness and a mother who lived to see them grow up... No way in hell.

Sam found him. Of course he did. And I found myself wondering, with that blue hand inching closer to his face, what his fondest wish would be. Death to the demon? A little death for himself?

It's not fair, but "it's worth it." Oh, Sam. Oh, Dean. Oh, boys.

Show, dearest show, why must you make my heart hurt so?

And then I switched to Grey's, which killed a little of my buzz. Love the cast dynamic for Private Practice. Love all the extra Addison time. Love spotting David Anders and Stephanie Niznik. Love Tim Daly, always have. But... I just don't know. I think maybe it was the format that killed it for me - it's slower than GA, and cut in with the original show, it suffered in comparison. I'll give it a chance on its own, and we'll see. But I'm missing the Addy of old already.

But long live the Gizzie! Poor George. Poor Izzie. Poor Callie. They're all so miserable. And somehow, all that hurting adds up to deliciousness for me. I'm twisted, I know.

Also, Shonda, please stop making Alex suffer. I don't know what he did to deserve it, and nobody else does, either.

And seriously, no wonder Meredith is a mess. With cold, crazy mothers and abandoning fathers who slap them, who wouldn't be royally screwed up? I'm not even a Mer fan and I'm indignant on her behalf. And Earth to the Observing Brown Folks - what the hell are you smoking? If I squint a little and crane my head to one side, I could possibly see why the Chief wouldn't intervene. But Miranda, dear, I know you didn't just stand there and watch this man assault one of your kids. I don't care if he is her sperm donor, or that his wife just died. You'd still have something to say.

Last but not least... after all the fangirling on my f-list, I caved and watched LOST this week. And wooo, doggy. I think Josh Holloway's Emmy has run off with Michael Hogan's.

But while I'm here, a theory...

So JJ & crew swear that the castaways aren't stuck in purgatory. But we've had two people now show up on the island out of the blue and claim that Flight 815 was found. And that there were no survivors. I've been wondering how both can be true.

Anybody remember a little movie called Millennium? Look it up, and get back to me.
Tags: fandom, tv: grey's anatomy, tv: lost, tv: supernatural
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