At least, for now.
A surprisingly moving end for our Asylum characters. Except for that one guy. He got it good.
Forward in time, then back, then forward again.
"There's so many questions, I don't even know where to begin."
Crazy crazy bo bazy banana-fana fo fazy ...
Was this kind of a good one?
Merry early Christmas, you godless pinheads.
Well, we guess it can't be rainbows and colostrum every week.
Little girls with blonde braids: not dangerous. Little girls with red braids: not dangerous. Little girl with brown hair: murderers.
So now we know who the serial killer is.
Last night we pole-vaulted over the boundaries of good taste with an episode titled "I Am Anne Frank."
Wait ... so how many Bloody Faces are there?
There was a young priest and an old priest.
This whole season is going to be like a Marilyn Manson video.
And to all a good night.
Time for those babies to be born.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the ham."
The stakes are no longer just really gory, they're the end of the world.
The identity of rubber man is revealed.
"Every pregnant woman worries they've got a little devil in them!"
"I've just come from a meeting with Lifetime, they're interested in making a pilot of me."
Halloween finishes up with oh so many ghosts.
"You're screwing that twink trainer of yours, and I need gourds!"
Another murder in the house happened in 1983, and there's a Camaro reference to prove it.
And a stabbing.
This show does not waste time.
As a party girl.
Alongside Kathy Bates and Gabourey Sidibe.
My auteurist theory of television.
Now you're thinking of Misery.
Welcome back, Violet.
Ryan Murphy loves women.
It’s tempting to treat this show as one long, trashy, sick joke. But it's so much more.