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blush-and-books · 3 years

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i’m sorry, but i fell in love tonight

short fic based off of this gifset by @juliesmolinas and the song is there somewhere by halsey. in fact it is mandatory that you listen to the song/read the lyrics/both before/during reading this. yes i said mandatory.

angst with a sappy ending, julie goes through a lifetime of emotions in less than 3k, was originally gonna write when i was in a more emotionally raw state but writing this made me emotionally raw so... enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Julie made the promise at some point -- she just doesn’t know exactly when.

It may have been when he appeared at her school, all shy smiles and soft glances, professing that she made him a better writer. Or, more definitively, it could have been when she forlornly pulled him into her arms a moment before she was positive that she was to lose him forever.

All that she knew was her time with Luke was fleeting. So she swore that her butterfly-wing crush was not allowed to fill her chest or dizzy her thoughts; that his lyrics would mean nothing more next to hers than words on a page and his touches would bring her little to no comfort.

Luke Patterson could not complete her.

The universe wouldn’t allow it -- and neither would Julie Molina.

But -- either Luke was blissfully unaware of their impending doom or he genuinely didn’t care -- he forced himself through every barrier she attempted to erect. And it was driving her nearly insane, because she made a promise to protect herself.

Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to do it. Or maybe the universe, despite refusing to give Julie Luke in his entirety, did not want her to be protected.

It was all in the little things-

When she stayed up with him in the garage, playing him all of the songs he’s missed in 25 years, and he danced around on the slippery floor in his socks and grinned at her with wide green eyes. The neon emerald in the dim light was reminiscent of driving on the highway and passing sign after sign leading to the exits she could have taken, but couldn’t bring herself to.

How New Years Eve arrived and the Molina family gathered in the driveway to light sparklers; Luke’s hand brushing hers as he passed off one of the two in his hands.

In his head lulling onto her shoulder while she was trying to finish some homework with his help on the torn couch and his lips moving against her bare skin as he mumbled that she needed to take a break before driving herself insane; followed by her braiding her hair to get it out of her face.

She already had driven herself insane -- but not over her homework.

(His mouth on her shoulder was the answer to a prayer she never dared to murmur aloud.)

Luke never failed to be present when he was needed. If she was sick or stressed or depressed, he knew when to fuse to her side and when to offer some space. Through careful observation rather than conversation, he knew which of her many sweatshirts were reserved for illness or emotional support.

In most of those situations, she needed him, too. Her fingernails would curl into his biceps through a cramp or wave of tears and he would wrap her in his embrace and swarm her with warm words that dried her eyes.

She hated it.

When they wrote music, it felt as though they were already reading each other's minds before either of them had spoken a word about their plans. Their journals contained inky black waterfalls spilled from an intimacy that Julie did not want to dissect.

Again, she hated it. She loved it more than anything and hated that she loved it all -- because it could never be real.

She would always play second fiddle to death.

Julie made the promise to herself to not let Luke complete her because, while she had him for now, the night of the Orpheum was a reminder that the universe would not hesitate to snap it’s fingers and eliminate him from existence.

The universe, being the confusing, stubborn bitch it is, just didn’t get the memo on that promise.

Because Luke filled every crack and restored every gap in her being, and he shouldn’t.

The hopeless, pining romantic in her that constantly argued with her realist side said they were meant to meet. Even if it was brief and heartbreaking and had the power to hurt her in a way she didn’t understand, it had to happen. If it wasn’t supposed to happen, then how and why did he cross space and time only to fall at her feet?

(Soulmates, a taunting voice whispered. Soulmates.)

((The voice was locked in a closet as punishment.))

She didn’t want to entertain the word. It had too much of a forlorn, wistfully romantic sound to it that Julie didn’t need to associate with Luke when she spent most moments with him at this point convincing herself that she wasn’t in love.

Until tonight.

It is past midnight, which is when anyone’s mental state starts to alter. Things that would be labelled as bad ideas in the daylight could very possibly become fair game when shrouded in a darkness that made everything private. The two of them, Luke and Julie, Julie and Luke, are nestled together on the piano bench as her fingers tiredly press each cut of ivory in a working melody.

“I have an idea,” Luke says, gently shifting his left hand to cover hers on the keys. “Why don’t we press pause on this song for a minute?”

Then, she finally looks up at him. Her eyes probably have crescents like the dark side of the moon crossing her skin, and her hair is all over the place, but he’s staring at her in one of the rare ways that she hates.

She hates it because the look convinces her that she completes him.

This time, however, there’s a hope. A hope, and a hesitance, and she’s simultaneously extremely nervous and beyond curious as to what his plans are.

“Did- Didn’t you want to finish this tonight?”

Regret strikes across his face, but he recovers. The softness is back. “Yeah, I just think we need a change of pace.” Right hand on the back of his neck: A telltale sign of a confession of some kind. She’s seen it more times than is healthy. “There was another song I wanted to show you, actually.”

“Oh.” She blinks, he waits. “Yeah, uh, I mean, yeah. Show me. What do you have so far?” He clears his throat as he thrums through the pages to find his target. “The whole thing.”

Julie doesn’t have time to react -- although she’s already in a panic -- before the leather-bound book is being awkwardly shoved into her hands, and the first thing she sees at the top is Luke’s nearly illegible scribble of Dark Room (song for Julie).

“Luke-”

“Just read it.” His voice is significantly raspier than it was a minute ago. “Please.”

She can’t. If he feels the same way and the confession is undeniably in front of her, then what is she supposed to do? Would she rather break Luke’s heart now to save them both down the line, or delay the misery a little longer?

It’s not that she doesn’t want it -- she does. But she doesn’t know if she’s emotionally equipped for any of the options that are offered to her. The destination of any path she chooses leads to a world of heartache.

So, she does the only thing she can think in the moment: She reads the song.

Instantly, the lyrics are blurred from the tears in her eyes because she sees the words “love” and “together” and her greatest fears and grandest wishes are coming true. The sonnet proclaims that she’s his light that illuminated his once-dark forever, and that he was hers when they didn’t even know each other, and that he will be hers wherever he ends up next.

He just wanted her to know that he would have waited another lifetime in the blank, limitless limbo he was in for 25 years if he knew she would be there when he was set free.

And, in the moment, Julie allows herself to acknowledge that her promise is broken.

She’s fallen in love.

And, apparently, he has too.

(Maybe they can claim just one night. The universe owes them that much, doesn’t it?)

“Julie?” God, he sounds so worried. A shaking finger trails up her jaw to catch falling tears, and his contact makes her gasp. He pulls away and shoves his hands together to fidget in his lap. “Julie, are you- Fuck, I’m sorry, I just fucked this up, didn’t I? I fucked it all up. Fuck, I-”

When she chances a look up at him for the first time in the couple of minutes that she’s been staring, hopelessly, at the song in her lap -- he’s got his face covered by his hands pressing roughly into his eyes, and he’s turned to face the piano instead of her.

He takes a deep breath, and it sounds…

Stuffy.

Three more tears leak from Julie’s eyes. More build up every minute as her right hand runs along his shoulder, “Luke…”

“No, Julie, please just drop it.”

“Luke.”

“I clearly misread a lot of stuff, and I’m tired, so maybe you can just go to bed and forget-”

Her hand wraps tightly around his upper arm like it’s done so many times when she has been in distress. “Luke.”

There’s a crack in her voice from sheer desperation. She needs him to look at her, so that she can wipe his tears and smile through the sobs and tell him he didn’t misread a single thing. She would wait a lifetime for him to come out of the dark room, she loves him too, and she’s going to forget all about it.

And ask him to do the same.

At least the scratch of his name catches his attention long enough, because he angles back towards her, and swallows thickly before meeting her eyes. Salty teardrops linger against his eyelids and eyelashes; the red rimming illuminating the oceanic green to look like a gemstone. Her grip relaxes.

“Yeah, Julie?”

She attempts a smile. “The song is beautiful, Luke. I love it.”

I love you.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful, and you love it, but you don’t… I’m not in your dreambox, huh?”

He clearly hasn’t dug through it in awhile. He’s everywhere. Discarded guitar picks and notes he’s left in her school journals and plenty, plenty of songs.

It’s funny, because she told him her dreambox was for things that didn’t make her sad. Luke was a double-edged sword -- making her happy every day in a new way, and making her cry into her pillow at night.

How does she explain this? There’s a whirlwind of responses running through her brain and she can barely coherently comprehend any of them.

“No,” she finds herself sighing as she raises her hand to his cheek, followed by her other hand so that he can’t try and turn away. “No, Luke, no… You’re wrong.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m wrong?’”

Her bottom lip starts to shake. “You think I don’t love you back.” Both of them feel their breath catch at her use of the word out loud. It feels like a secret that shouldn’t be repeated. “And you’re wrong.”

“... I’m wrong.”

“Of course you’re wrong! You really think I don’t love you back?”

“Why are you crying if you love me?”

“Because we can’t do this!”

He scoffs, and Julie’s heart is racing in her chest as he pushes himself off of the piano bench and her hands fall from his face. What has she done?

“That’s bull, Julie.” His fingertips tug at his hair. “You don’t need to make a big dramatic show to convince me it’s wrong just to let me down easy. You aren’t going to talk me out of this.” Dead-on, he stops pacing back and forth, and looks her in the eye. “I love you.”

Listening to him say it, the way his mouth moves and his voice ticks with conviction at each syllable, is what makes her break.

“And I love you too.”

He reels back. He probably wasn’t expecting her voice to raise from their odd, in-between whisper and normal volume.

“But don’t you get it? Luke, we aren't in some magical place where we can meet each other in the middle. A place like that doesn’t exist. You’re dead, and I’m alive, and any future here ends with both of us losing each other.”

“Julie-”

“You said you would wait another lifetime, right?” Using his own lyrics against him. She watches his hands twitch before nodding; the movements of his head barely visible. “Then wait. Another lifetime, another two -- the fucking universe clearly didn’t want us to have this one, so we’re stuck waiting for the next one.”

Even through his clear and fighting need to argue, to talk with her about this, he stiffly nods his head. It’s obvious that she has thought way too much about this from the way she’s barely choking out each word before crumbling into tears before his eyes -- but then again, he’s thought about it too.

Callused hands are running along her neck to tilt her face up out of the blue. She was too busy crying to notice that he had crossed the distance between them to stand right in front of her and assure that she was meeting his eyes.

“Luke-”

“No, Julie, it’s my turn. Please.”

She won’t argue with him. So, with a tender swipe of his thumbs under her eyes, he proceeds.

“Look, I get it. You think I don’t get it? I fucking hate being dead, for so many reasons, Julie. But if I never died, I never would have met you.” Her lips part, and maybe he thinks she’s going to protest because he smoothly lifts a finger in front of her lips that barely makes contact.

(Julie almost presses her lips into it.)

“And you’re right. I wish there was somewhere that we could meet in the middle, but we don’t have that. I wish so many things, Julie. But none of them involve a life where I don’t have you.”

She whimpers, because listening to the man that normally chains his emotions in a cage bare his soul to her at nearly one in the morning is a seriously more out-of-body experience than she expected. She knew, deep down, that she loved him. But she never allowed herself to feel the all-encompassing warmth that she feels now.

“But hey, Julie, look at me,” he coaxes her with a tone that drips with affection. The pads of his fingers are nearly kneading into the back of her neck. “Like you said: The universe didn’t want to give us this lifetime. They couldn’t let us have all the fun, right?” Both of them let out a watery chuckle. “But they still brought me to you, didn’t they? They let me know you in this lifetime, even if we couldn’t have forever. I said I would be yours wherever I am. So even if this,” he gestures to his ghostly form, “isn’t forever, even if we don’t have this lifetime… You know I’ll love you forever, right?”

It was a monologue straight from one of her dreams that left her waking up with a manic smile and tears running down her face.

Unable to form any other response besides an unaware nod, Julie waits for him to continue.

“And maybe, the universe will give us the next lifetime, or a whole new universe, or… Just somewhere where we can get forever.”

Abruptly, his hands slide from her neck and grasp her hands like he needs to hold on firmly enough to believe that she’s still real in front of him. Julie is still speechless and teary, and in the most sentimental gesture, Luke kisses the back of both of her hands.

“We’ll get forever, Julie.” His warm breath puffs against her skin. “I promise you.”

And, well, if he promises forever in the next life -- then why can’t she take what she can get in this one?

tags: @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @lydias--stiles @moreflowersthanweeds @pink-flame

#this will also be posted on ao3 lmao #jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jukebox #palina #juke fanfic #jatp fanfic

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austennerdita2533 · 5 years

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A/N: Here’s an exploration of Klaus’s final thoughts while dying because why write happy AUs when I can suffer in canon hell instead? Loosely inspired by (THIS) gifset.

**ALLUSIONS TO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH**

(A03)(FF.net)

Happy reading!

xx Ashlee Bree

There are few constants in this world. Though it’s not the most revolutionary thought to be archived, there is none more relevant to a monster who’s currently stretched thin and waning piece-by-piece into the cityscape, his mind drifting off like flecks of paper as he expends his last gulps of borrowed air into the dusk until he disappears.

Such a stark truth helps to put everything back into perspective. His eyelids can flutter closed with one less regret now because he knows…yes, because he knows…

Hardly anything stays the same here.

The sun rises then sets, only never in the same way twice. Opportunity gushes forward when it should trickle in instead. Blood sustains but it too runs dry the longer his fangs cling to the carotid of some nameless human’s neck, that prayer for help already fallen silent on the tip of a person's tongue so it’s gone before the gods can hear it, before they answer it - that is, if there truly are any gods left.

Perhaps they still exist somewhere, or perhaps they never did?

Klaus wouldn’t know since humanity’s fickleness deletes old beliefs faster than it ushers in grander ones on spools of sacred carpet. He doesn’t care because a thousand years have lapsed, and he’s never seen one. Never heard from one, either. Not a’once.

It seems only the agents of hell reign here. So either he’s indebted to them, or cursed, or he’s a member of their demon dregs? It doesn’t matter which one it is.

There aren’t many consistencies to be found around him regardless. There’s little to no predictability.

Sometimes, though, a giggle will leave its mark in surprise or in dread, in humor or in cruelty, so that it echoes in his head. Not that such a sound matters at all to the wind carrying it like a letter, because how could it? Why would it? There is no promise it shall arrive again before it’s missed.

Thoughts, cultures, foods, and dreams all disappear in the seconds it takes to sneeze.

Klaus snaps his fingers and the Berlin Wall tumbles, he whistles and soon the arctic ice thaws into puddles of boiling salt that raise the seas. Applause turns to duels and duels turn to kisses faster than he can flip to the next Shakespearean act and read it all the way through looking for hints, searching for clues that will tell him what to expect at the end.

Another extinct language is continually born to die in ashes that were made to flicker after they fall. Some embers drift away unseen almost as readily as others which remain behind, stacked higher than gray ant hills. Those are the ones built to thrive and condemn all who come into contact with their illegible numerals in the first place. With no ears to listen, and with no hands to point or shoes to kick it along, the fiery wind above delivers a message that may or may not be read by those who remain below, still standing; the lot of them still stuck in a moment they’ll soon learn to forget because they can, because to survive they must march ahead.

Nothing stops in this world, and Klaus knows it. He’s seen it.

History blows past everything with a wink. He feels the edges spinning away from him day after day - splitting into shreds he’s too slow to catch.

Transience is a terrible companion for a man like him, for all creatures who ache for perpetuity or an anchor of sorts to brace them against the onslaught, but sometimes that’s all there is. Sometimes fleeting brevity is all one gets.

Rain often washes the paint and charcoal from his fingertips, for example. Snow likely cools the fury he wears curled under his breath before exchanging it for mercy, or the precious little of it he still possesses. Hope can be moister than a stick of gum when he tucks it back against his molars, but it never stays fresh. The taste is sweet at first, then more and more sour when the mint decays into chalk along the inside of his cheek and drills a hole of white through his tongue, the bloody thing a grave which opens deeper with every smile and charming word he speaks. Cementing like an abscessed cavity when he must count his losses in soon-to-be-archaic syllables.

New species of flowers proliferate then wither in his palms over and over again. Leaves green before they redden, orange, yellow, and brown so as to hibernate with all the foes he doesn’t know exist, or hasn’t bested yet. Time becomes nothing more than a string of multiplying paragraphs before it starts to unravel at the seams to make it impossible to remember where one fantasy begins, and another reality ends.

Barely anything Klaus touches remains steady. Most of it crumbles, turning to sawdust in his lap.

“Permanent” is neither a word he applies to many things in this universe nor to an existence which has done its damndest to convince him of its rarity.

His whole life already buoys on a globe of volcanic nothings, does it not? He’s observed how it perches precariously on a bed of tepid somethings which is always moving, always changing in a rhythm that quakes until it turns deaf from the relentless pound pound pound of his fists. The fog billows around mountaintops so the centuries pass in a whisper, or so year after year zooms by in a screech so loud it could perforate the eardrums. Yet each one remains special somehow because it cannot be weathered by anything else except progress. And evolution. And transformation.

All the lightness and darkness in him blurs while bourbon drowns the red screams that come from another city’s throat. Then from another…and another…and another…ad nauseam. The cycle continuing in squawking refrain because—oh, how the Endless hurts!

Buildings wobble. Cobblestone rots. Parchment crinkles, yellowing at the edges. Lanterns light a crowded alleyway which soon will be filled with rubble, with parking spaces or picnic tables, with ghosts of people he met too long ago to recount every individual face with clarity.

Hills and meadows and streams, and gravel and grasses and blacktopped streets—they crack beneath his feet the longer he treads on this earth with the continents drifting apart, with the waves crashing back together in a lover’s chaotic embrace because that’s how reunions spark throughout the ages: violently and with no care to preserve the prettiness of the land it once abandoned. And that’s okay. It’s this thirst and hunger for uproar which sprinkles life in destructive beauty. It’s what makes eternal adjustments so spontaneous, so thrilling.

The truth is Klaus is no stranger to changeability.

Nor is irregularity a foreign concept to a cunning mind like his that’s forever plotting, always considering new plans for domination or survival, so none of that scares him. Nothing of the erratic sort can, or should, or will unsettle his thoughts enough to drag him from sleep to brew a war which blazes inside of himself because he’s lost a hold of something the world never gave him, something it never promised he could keep.

He's acknowledged all the while how inconstancy is more likely to web around and throughout him as he continues forward into the eclogues of forever. He’s accepted it, breathed it in like the oxygen he no longer needs.

So what terrifies him isn’t that variables still abound as they always have but that he’s stumbled over something much more disconcerting in the pulse of his own throat, in the wretched tremble of his knees as a single look or word pins him to the floor on all fours, willingly damned like some besotted fool straight out of every bloody Victorian novel that was ever penned. It’s how he’s unearthed a kind of endurability in himself where none should be yet is in spite of all he knows or may confess in truths yanked from his soul like teeth—and that’s her. She’s the singular point of alarm behind everything.

Caroline.

She’s equal parts beautiful, infuriating, and fierce. She’s impossible and inescapable, she’s the answer behind every question he’s too afraid to ask out loud. In the forgotten silence, it’s her voice carrying everything he wants to hear: a ‘so long’ sweeter than a peck on the mouth, a slap of reckoning, a right ‘ol pinch in the arse for being disappointing; light that never dims, never burns down to black; charm and kindness with a dash of audacity, the loveliness of an elbow to the gut when it’s warranted, since it often can be with Mikaelsons around; and hope so pure it covers him like heaven’s own golden sleeves.

Klaus was struck by her the moment they met. He continues to be so every minute, hour, year, decade of time he’s fortunate enough to know her. See her. Wondering about feelings she may or may not reciprocate even as a peculiar heaviness starts to settle over his limbs, then robs him of any action except thinking.

Permanent in a way that will never fade, irrational love for her is the one truly indestructible thing he owns. It belongs to him completely. It’s the thumping heart of his entire universe, but then again...so is she.

However, with Death’s fingertips about to shut a lid over him and all they could’ve been one day, a single thought scratches hauntingly through Klaus’s mind; a final pang shoots across his heart before goodbye rots his lungs for keeps because it’s not until then that he realizes:

Caroline will never learn how much she’s cherished now, will she?

There are few constants in this world. It’s a fact, not a mystery. Yet while physics may write the laws and answers for everything else, for him, she - only she - is a perpetual feeling.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #ashlee bree's writing endeavors

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magistralucis · 6 years

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Breakbot + Busy P + MYD + Alan Braxe + Borussia @ XOYO, 26 May 2018 [Review]

A fantastic reward for the comedy of errors that is my life.

Been a while since I did a review of a gig! Technically, I should have done one for Justice last September, but given the amount of content I gained from that performance, I keep thinking that one has to be several gifsets and a video upload instead of me rambling on. I’ll get to it in a billion years;;; Over the weekend I went to this all-nighter and didn’t sleep for like, 30 hours? And I’m still recovering. So much like the TBB review last year, this is going to read super disjointed, like a bunch of random stream-of-consciousness notes I took over several hours. (Which 70% of this review actually relies on.) There are pics and a few lil’ gifs, all splendidly red-tinted to reflect the lighting in the club, but the tl;dr is essentially:

The Journey

As previously stated, I do not live in London. London is not easy to navigate. I do not have the strongest sense of direction and frequently map out walking paths and exact number of turns and landmarks nearby my intended destinations, which works for me 9/10 of the time - but this means that when things go bad, they tend to go really bad holy fucking shit under the influence of certain factors XOYO is the hardest fucking club to find in the entire universe. I have never had this much trouble finding a single location despite having such clear directions from multiple sources. It’s not the club’s fault, of course, thousands of people find it just fine - the stars just utterly refused to align for me this particular weekend, turning what should have been a straightforward path from A to B to over an hour of running around.

To attend to this spectacular all-nighter, I took the train from my university city to London, alighting in King’s Cross St. Pancras around 7pm. XOYO is located about a minute away from Old Street Station, which as you can see from the above image of the Northern Line is only two stops away; I could have been at the club in less than ten minutes. Because of this, I was slow to take the Tube when I initially arrived, instead stopping for a snack and some adequate hydration at King’s Cross (also tutting at Platform 9¾ which is not that impressive a display but that’s neither here nor there); I don’t think that was unwise in itself, but it was a decision that I ended up regretting, because it meant I didn’t find out about the spanner in the works until it was almost too late.

ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

A five-minute journey on a single subway train from A to B was all I was asking. Well it turns out I couldn’t do that!!! Because fucking engineering works!!!! All the Northern line service bilboards and directional posters were papered over and the information being given was often deeply counterproductive (or outright incorrect). First I was directed to Euston to try to make a switch there, but no Northern line services were running at all. Then I came back to King’s Cross and subsequently tried out Moorgate on the Circle/Metropolitan line, which was running Northern line services - but nothing northbound, like I needed! This was exceptionally infuriating because Moorgate is only one stop away from Old Street station. I was delayed for nearly an hour purely trying to solve this problem, because even past 7-8pm the stations were s t u f f e d with people all trying to navigate this Northern line dilemma in their own way. This line splits along the way, too, so depending on where you’re headed to and where in the ‘part closure’ your intended destination sits, you could be lost in utterly infuriating bullshit like I did, being only 1-2 stops away from where you are and being unable to get to it unless you walk or take overhead transport.

And, you know, those people had already paid and gone past the barrier when they found out about the closures. Most of that info could only be had inside. At King’s Cross St Pancras, the only info available outside the barrier were announcements on rail replacement buses - confusingly worded at that, all three of them entirely northbound from King’s Cross St Pancras (I needed southbound for Old Street). The London Underground isn’t obscenely expensive, but it’s not disposable money either! There’s a bus directly from King’s Cross to Old Street Station (which I ended up taking in order to return) - but if you paid and entered the Tube station, you’re going to want to solve the problem before signing back out of the barrier!

fml in the end I just walked. 7-8 mins from Moorgate and then XOYO itself is hidden in an alley between two massive building complexes with naught but a red neon sign to point your way. It’s not a big neon sign. On one hand maybe it was a good thing I was held up traveling. I arrived about 5 mins after the club opened and was let in straight away. If things had gone as I’d planned I might have ended up camping out in front of XOYO for an extremely awkward hour or whatever. There was no queue; despite it all, I was that early, and was amply rewarded for my earliness. But man.

On the other hand, I was dehydrated all over again.

Hour-by-Hour Review

Contrary to the anguished nature of the vent above, most of the night was damn excellent and the review below is the main meat of the experience. I recollected this through small notes I was making on my phone - mostly of timestamps and a single keyword, like what songs were playing at the time - and some videos I took, the position of each photo, and my own memory from yesterday. They are patchy notes, but they are as detailed as I can make them, and largely accurate. Essentially: if you’ve read this far, I invite you to come live the night with me all over again! :D

9:30PM - 11:00PM: I was the only person seeking entry to XOYO when I finally turned up, though music was already playing inside. “You here for an event?” The guard asks, and I produce my ticket and passport. “Just so you know, there’s a band playing in there at the moment - the actual, uh, techno, that’s not going to start until ten o’clock. You can go in now, but once you’re in, you’re in - you won’t be able to come back out and back in again.”

I just look at them. “What am I going to do outside for half an hour. That’s fine.”

Ticket scanned, passport checked and confirmed, bag check occurs. I read that XOYO has airport-security level bag checks, but that was not my experience. I might just have been too damn early to raise any alarms. I’m let in, visit the bar, buy some water, visit the bathroom, tidy up a bit, tie my jacket around my waist to conceal my bag, etc. Around 9:45PM I peer down at the main room downstairs to check out this band, although I come back up shortly to prepare for the main experience...

... which, uh, doesn’t take place until eleven. After the band leaves around 10PM, what actually happens is that the main room is sealed off for DJ setups while in Room 2 upstairs Joshua James plays. I had the choice of saving my energy for later and resting on the bench, or going to see him; I chose the former. Security guy lingering in front of the main room says it might open in ‘half an hour’ when I ask him on the dot at 10PM. My guy that’s the longest damn half hour I have ever waited in my life. At least I can people-watch and save my place because like always, I want to be at the front when the doors open.

11:00PM: The main room finally opens and Borussia is in the house. The dancefloor is very empty for about half an hour while he gets the crowd going. Ushers frequently come by, brandishing red penlights to take away glasses and empty bottles and lost property and the like. XOYO only has a max capacity of 800~ people and I’m fairly sure that’s spread across two rooms; the glasses are like, proper solid pub glasses, too, actual breakage hazards. I imagine it’s because it’s a small and intimate club that the choice of glasses makes sense; even in Electric Brixton they gave out plastic, and that one holds close to 2000 people. I saw several toppling over or rolling on the ground before someone came to snatch up the whole stack of them. I applaud their diligence.

11:10PM: Also this dancefloor is incredibly sticky. Pedro is visible on the left. He talks to a backstage fan before disappearing.

11:23PM: There’s a girl next to me with her boyfriend. We meet eyes. This girl will recur a few more times during the night. Swig of water taken.

11:30~PM: A note about the stage structure of XOYO.

As mentioned previously, XOYO is a two-room club, one upstairs and one downstairs. Downstairs is the main and the top one’s for opening acts and smaller shows; the downstairs has a dancefloor, a bar off to the side, and an elevated stage. Now the important thing about this stage is that you can get on it. There are no barriers between audience and DJ in a XOYO set, except for the ready-built DJ booth and all the speakers and equipment set that may or may not be piled around it. There is a steel mesh of sorts to separate the sides of the DJ booth from the stage/dancefloor viewing area, but aside from that, it is entirely possible for you to mount the performing stage and be about two feet from the DJ at any given time. Around this time is when people begin to mount the stage and like. Dance. But sparsely.

I will return to this stage later. I’m currently parked in front of the DJ booth.

11:40~PM:

Pedro pops back into the scene briefly. He doesn’t linger for long there, but he’ll be back for the switchover. This is the best photo I could get ffffff

11:40~PM (not long after the above): Borussia puts Gorillaz’s ‘DARE’ on and the room goes fucking wild. The girl returns. This time we meet more than eyes and actually dance together, her boyfriend hitching her up on his back for about 30 seconds midway. This is the first point of the night that Borussia starts smiling and I’m taken by how sweet his smile is.

11:54PM: You know what I think Borussia kind of looks like Gesa if you squint

12:00~AM: Pedro in the house. He takes over slowly from Borussia, who exits amidst thunderous applause. For some reason, Pedro did not look awfully happy for most of the show. Compared to the last time I saw him DJ (opener for Justice) he seemed like... stoic? Like he had a lot in his mind. He was capable of cheer when need be, man knows how to drive a crowd, but like... the air about him was different. I have no explanation for this. It may just have been my perception.

12:00 - 12:30AM (?): I genuinely cannot remember when this first happened, only I remember Pedro being at the forefront and giving the people involved an amused glance at some point in the night. So it goes here, even though they might first have appeared during Borussia. Two incredibly scantily dressed and also gorgeous dancers, one male and one female (visibly), rolled out of the backstage area and began dancing on the elevated stage around the same time e v e r y o n e began piling on. I’d kill for the ability to dance on the heels they did holy fuck

12:13AM: I CAN SEE IRFANE OFF TO THE SIDE YES HE CAME AFTER ALL I know he’s officially part of Breakbot now but the XOYO description made it sound as if only Thibaut was coming. False alarm! The duo lives on.

12:28AM (?): Girl I was dancing with earlier + her boyfriend reappears from the bar direction. She mounts the elevated stage and disappears into the crowd.

12:30AM (?): THIBAUT AND SO-ME SPOTTED I WANT TO ATTACH THE PHOTO OF THIS MOMENT but it’s too blurry fuck shit

12:34AM: With a grin worth a million pounds Pedro puts on ‘Audio, Video, Disco’. Lighting changes to bombastic yellow and everybody just about dies for the next five minutes to follow. This was universally the reception whenever anything Daft Punk or Justice came on (Pedro also played ‘D.A.N.C.E.’ immediately after) - many people, Thibaut included, had Justice shirts on and earlier on the 26th Justice played a set on All Points East, so this was understandable.

12:39AM: Fuck it. I’m going on the elevated stage. I just hitched myself up.

12:40~AM: I can see so much better from here.

There’s a bit on the stage where the steel mesh barrier ends, and the DJ set curves away from the rest of the stage, where you can see everyone in the booth really clearly. Currently this spot is occupied by a dude and a girl who I progressively come to realize was getting increasingly drunk/high - she was clinging onto the sides - so I just gravitate towards the steel mesh instead, neglected by most people. For most part my view is blocked by people hanging around from backstage but every now and then they vacate, and I get a good side view. Not long after I settle in, Thibaut pops up for a short while, swigging from a bottle - and the girl I was dancing with from before almost crashes into the mesh shouting her hellos at him. (This is when I realize that she’s French.)

And, uh, I mean. What can you do when a thing like that happens. I join in, of course. Thibaut did not hear either of us before slinking back, but this did have the effect of the girl patting me on the shoulder for our first real conversation:

French girl: [Muffled something]

Me: Ah?

French girl: [After a few tries through the noise] You like Thibaut?

Me: Yeah! Came to see him mostly!

French girl: 😍💖😍💖😍 I’M THE BIGGEST FAN 😍💖😍💖😍

The oddest thing is that during this exchange, the boyfriend guy with her kind of gently takes off my hat and tries to put it back on me backwards. I have no idea what the fuck and I give him a look that conveys that I have no idea what the fuck ‘cause like... dude why are you taking my hat exactly??? Am I missing something??? I replace it and carry on. The girl’s swept away towards the bar again.

12:40~AM: Pedro is the only person who can pull off LeLe’s ‘Breakfast’ in a DJ set without it descending into narm territory imo

12:40~AM: MYD IS HERE MYD IS HERE

1:00AM: Thibaut and Irfane take over at last, the latter first, then Thibaut more fully. Mama P stays at the back, watching over the situation, before silently withdrawing.

The stage is so crowded I can barely breathe. French girl does not return. Ushers begin to move about the dancefloor carrying large foreboding black bags, not for glasses but for lost property.

1:00~AM: J E S U S

1:10~AM: So-Me is the third one in the booth. I wish people would announce it properly whenever he turns up - I didn’t think to expect him at all, as he was not there with Pedro when I saw him open for Justice and his name wasn’t on the guests list. He feels like a lottery treat ; w ;

1:10~AM: Usher on the elevated stage. He finds a credit card on the floor and flashes an exact 🤨 look in my direction, as I was the closest to him. “Not mine,” I mouth at him, and he stashes the card in the lost property bag before vanishing into the crowd.

1:11AM: Come to think of it I’ve seen people lose some seriously scary shit on dancefloors. Like when I went to see TBB and Justice, on both occasions I’ve seen someone lose their foreign identity card. I’d be fucking terrified for my life if that happened to me - and given that I’m toting my passport around (some places don’t seem to accept BRP...?), which I cannot afford to lose whatsoever, I enter a state of brief panic while I check that nothing has been thieved from my bag. All clear.

1:23-25AM: Jesus Christ Irfane is so touchy-feely with Thibaut they’re in love I’m literally crying

1:30~AM: Because of the above mentioned affection-shenanigans, I stop dancing in order to get some photos and videos of the pair. One of the backstage fans notices. “Do you want me to take a picture for you?” He shouts through the mesh; I hesitate, because I’m not in the business of giving my phone away to strangers, but I take the risk. It turned out he made this offer during a period of very weird lighting and it wasn’t a good time for photos, but this is the best out of several attempts from him:

“It’s not a good time,” he shouts as he hands my phone back over. “sorry.”

“Thank you anyway,” I holler through the bars. He flashes a grin and we carry on.

1:30~AM (after the above): Remember the scantily dressed gorgeous dancers? They’re back, dancing on a bunch of speakers (?) next to the side view. Drama with the (drunk?) girl hogging the side view; she gets into a conflict with one of the dancers and it gets really fucking tense. I’m not 100% on what happened, but I can imagine that something that wasn’t meant to be touched was touched or that she was giving the dancer some serious attitude - like the girl was literally grabbing the (drunk?) girl by the face and telling her to get a fucking grip. The dude with her eventually leads her away and the dancers dismount the stage, disappearing into the crowd - I didn’t see them return again, which was a right shame.

tl;dr I took the empty spot and was able to photo marginally better than before.

1:35AM:

Jesus God this is heavenly

1:41AM:

Best quality: his wiggles

(He was mouthing along to ‘Why?’.)

1:40~AM: I keep thinking I stepped on something. This continues for some five minutes before I finally look down and yep whoops I was stepping on something all right. It was a hefty croc leather wallet/purse thing, all black, very sticky from the floor. I set it down in front of me and handed it over to an usher less than two minutes after. Another swig of water. Thibaut’s wiggles do not in any way pale next to Irfane’s.

1:50AM (?): Yet another event I know happened but can’t remember where exactly to place. ‘My Toy’ comes on. I hear this one is a fan favourite and while I can think of better songs in Still Waters, I get to see for myself just how true this statement is. In fact, Breakbot played quite a few of their stuff - not a lot, but enough to bring on significant cheers whenever they did. ‘Back For More’ was the starter and ‘Fantasy’ came on at some point but ‘My Toy’ was easily the most popular of the lot!

2:00AM: Alan Braxe takes over. Irfane and Thibaut continue to linger, as does So-Me, but I’m beginning to see Myd far more often - he must provide the climax to this all-nighter. He had a vinyl signing earlier on the 26th; he’s greeted with cheers whenever he’s visible.

2:00 - 4:00AM: A broad sweeping observation to indicate that my phone is dying a horrible death by this point of the night. I brought an external battery and had it going again once I left the club, but fuck trying to fumble with that in the middle of a club. All those photos did it, especially the videos, and burning the battery on that so quickly was not a good idea because I wanted to take more of Alan and Myd boo

2:20~AM: Alan’s set is considerably darker in tone. Probably more like what I’m used to before I got into EDM, in fact. I consider him responsible for the mild whiplash I got from headbanging.

2:24AM: XOYO’s smoke machines are at their peak performance around this time and I can barely see a thing. Not being a big venue, this is a problem. Irfane and Thibaut and So-Me pop back up for a selfie with one of the backstage fans and rope Alan into participating; he does so exactly once and turns back, as professional as always, while the other stay on for a second and third go.

2:30~AM: wHAT’S THAT I HEAR???? CRESCENDOLLS?????

2:30~AM: IT’S CRESCENDOLLS

2:35AM: Hey remember when it took Irfane 10 years to figure out the Very Disco = Veridis Quo pun

2:40~AM: By this point I’m getting super hungry and I’m just about out of water. Water in XOYO is expensive. Something like 2.50 for a 300ml bottle. The DJs had a stack of these bottles by the side and were powering through them at alarming speed when they weren’t drinking other things. It’s my policy to go early and buy a bottle of water at the bar of wherever I attend a gig or concert, pretty much always. It’s my first time running out with more than an hour to go, though, but despite this I keep dancing with the empty bottle clutched in my hand. I don’t actually remember why. Maybe I thought I’d fill it up after the show or something. Spoilers: I didn’t

2:55AM: Right as Myd is taking over some dude pokes me and asks to have a sip of my water. I should not have been dancing with that empty bottle. He looks disgruntled when I tell him it’s empty and moves on. Sorry my dude I only wish I’d have been able to spare even a drop but I was genuinely out;;;;;

3:00 - 4:00AM: I hate having to sum it up like this but due to aforementioned factors (dying legs + low battery + lack of water) I do not actually remember much of Myd’s set. This is a great injustice to the man and it’s pretty much entirely my fault for not taking any time to rest (seating was provided near the bar) or not buying myself another drink; next time he’s in the UK, wherever he may be and whoever he might be with, I shall make the effort to hunt him down and give him a proper listen. What I remember of his set was brilliant, cheery but mysterious, coupled with Daft Punk’s ‘Rock n’ Roll’ somewhere in the middle. Please enjoy this terrible picture of him taken with my phone’s dying strength.

3:18AM: I can timestamp this accurately because it’s on the last video I took of the night. Enjoy some Myd wiggles

3:30~AM: This was roughly when ‘Rock n’ Roll’ was on! Irfane chatting away in the corner. So-Me lending a hand. Five minutes in he leans over and distributes stickers (I think) into the crowd. I was sadly on the other side and did not get a chance to receive any.

3:40~AM: People are beginning to hunker down on the elevated stage or leaving altogether. The night is drawing to a close.

3:55AM: Phone blinks out completely at this point. XOYO is open from 9:30pm-4am on Fridays and Saturdays (also 21+ years only policy, which I appreciate) so I figured Myd should be winding down about now. Every DJ participating so far has switched out/bowed out after an hour, after all. Myd might need a minute more to think about it.

4:03AM: Myd might need three more minutes to think about it.

4:04AM: Myd might need four or five more minutes to think about it.

4:10AM: Myd why are you doing this. Myd it’s past closing time. Myd my guy you’re pouring ambrosia upon the unworthy. Myd ple

4:15AM~: In the end I leave a few minutes early. I have to stress that this had absolutely nothing to do with the quality of Myd’s set nor that he was playing beyond closing time - encores and extra content are extremely good! It’s just that my legs were dead! ;A ; I limped upstairs and washed my face etc and he was still playing when I came out. That’s dedication.

The End

As soon as it’s actually over, cheers went up - and as I’m sitting at the bench near the entrance of the club just trying to get my shit together, everyone files out all at once to a bunch of weary-looking security guards wishing us all a good night.

I join the line. It’s bright outside already. Some of the guards offer to call us a cab and some of the people take them up on it. I myself walk out of the club, turn left, and down Old Street Yard to examine the bus stops. One of the bus lines are 24hr and go directly to King’s Cross; as I reach one of the relevant stops and lean around, trying to figure out the times, the French girl from earlier recognizes me and pats me on the shoulder. “You were the girl dancing next to me, right?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good and so exhausted I could melt into the floor.”

She giggles and bids me goodnight as she moves to another bus stop. I didn’t get to ask her about Thibaut, as she wasn’t by me when he came on, but I can only assume she had a good time too. Soon the 214 comes along and I hop on towards King’s Cross. The sun is rising and the white noise in my legs dissipates, just a little, only to be gone completely some twenty hours later. Feels good man.

#breakbot #thibaut berland #irfane #busy p #pedro winter #ed banger #borussia #myd #so me #bertrand de langeron #reviews #long post #hi this took ages to write and has prime time content pls give it a peruse #;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))#xoyo

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elloras · 6 years

Note

I've yet to watch S7 of Suits so I only know vague plot points but can you please tell me what Show has done to Mike so I can mentally prepare myself

Oh honey. I’ll just copy-paste the chat I just had with @alwaystiredbi:

elloras oh man

idek where to start?

i think the simplest i can put it is, mike as we ship him in marvey is always 100% pro-harvey, all the time

he would NEVER force harvey towards donna because he would know how ambivalent harvey feels about it

this mike is not ‘mike’ as we think of him, and the problem is mike as we think of him has been entirely our interpretation and based on ignoring a lot of things about canon mike

alwaystiredbi Ahhh! I didn’t realize what the context of that gifset was

That makes sense - we do tend to do that as shippers because some parts of canon mike really suck

elloras yeah, in the latest episode he literally tells harvey “I was rooting for Donna to be with you”

alwaystiredbi W H A T

I’m so glad I stopped watching it because I would’ve been so made

elloras how far have you watched?

oh man, good for you

but now you get it :P

alwaystiredbi Hmmm honestly i forget lol

ellorasso like paula called mike to ask him what to get harvey for their anniversary present

and mike was like 'i guess she thinks i’m harvey’s best friend’ and rachel was like 'or the person that knows harvey the best is the one person she doesn’t want to call’ aka donna

alwaystiredbi I think I stopped watching when Harvey and Donna kissed because it felt so uncomfortable and forced

elloras and she tells mike that donna told her she regrets not ever finding out what things could’ve been like between them

yeah so you know mike was the one who told her to tell him how she feels

and instead of doing that dumbass bitch went and kissed him

alwaystiredbi oh yeah! i blocked so much of it out of my mind because of how long the break was and how OOC some of it felt

alwaystiredbi so that really sucks wow i hate this

elloras and paula and harvey ended up breaking up because more things happened and paula was like i don’t want to feel like this but if you keep working with donna i don’t think we’ll survive (because she’d been cheated on with her boyfriend’s colleague before) and harvey almost lets donna go but then he can’t do it so he breaks up with paula (in an actually really sweet scene)

alwaystiredbi I didn’t like the Harvey/Paula relationship at ALL but I don’t like Donna also - Scottie was the only woman ever right for him

elloras and then mike asks what happened and harvey’s like donna kissed me and i realized paula wasn’t the one and mike’s like 'because donna is’ and harvey’s like 'no that’s not what i’m saying’ and then he’s like idk why she did that and mike’s like i do, it’s because i told her to tell you how she feels i’m sorry and harvey’s like it’s okay you couldn’t have known

yeah

and so then later he comes to mike and he says why did you ask donna to tell me how she feels

and mike’s like i care about her and i didn’t want her to go through life not knowing

and harvey’s like what about me? did you care what it would do to my relationship?

and mike’s like well i thought if you were that solid with paula it wouldn’t matter

and harvey’s like well what if i’d told logan to tell rachel how he feels

and mike’s like well the difference is i would hope you weren’t rooting for rachel to be with logan but yeah maybe i was rooting for donna to be with you

alwaystiredbi oh wow, what the fuck mike?? don’t like any of that!!

elloras and harvey’s like fair enough and then he’s like right now i’m not looking to be with anyone and then he goes and has a drink with donna and you can tell he’s considering it more seriously just because mike said

and i’m like….lmao fuck this

mike is dead

he was always dead the mike i loved only existed in my head

alwaystiredbi yeah fuck that mike, that’s so OOC to me? Idk maybe because I have him represented in my mind differently but that’s such bs

Because Mike was always rooting for this “cool guy Harvey” and making jokes about how he’s a player and he should know better than to get involved in Harvey’s personal life, especially about Donna

elloras EXACTLY

he always always always had harvey’s back

this mike may as well have stabbed him

alwaystiredbi That’s so shitty? Not even in a “mike/harvey” way but in a “Mike you were supposed to be there for Harvey and help me, not make it worse”

EXACTLY

Jesus christ, he really hurt Harvey and Harvey takes it in stride

elloras harvey’s actually considering it!! just because mike said!!!!

alwaystiredbi?? Like he just decides to consider Donna because of Mike??Which 1) Sucks for Donna because she gets NO agency! and her feelings still technically aren’t about her

elloras and i’m just like scottie PLEASE come and save him

alwaystiredbi 2) Shows Harvey clearly doesn’t actually like her for himself

3) Mike STILL affects Harvey even in the shitty ways and WOW I would’ve never seen that twist coming

Yeah honestly Scottie was so good

…you get the picture

#anon #replies #tag 3 #tag 4 #tag 5 #suits #anti marvey #anti marvey for ts #lmao i still cannot believe those are tags on my blog #dullvey #scottie x harvey

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orionsangel86 · 7 years

Text

13x01 - Episode Review - Part 2

"Nougat Winchester” and narrative mirrors in 13x01

It has taken me forever to finish this part of my review to the extent that we have already had another episode before I finished it! But rather than curse my inability to focus I’m gonna press on and complete this before I start my 13x02 review.

Ah Jack, Jack our little nougat Jack. The way the fandom has embraced you is very touching. The internet screams of “PROTECT HIM” certainly show that Alexander Calvert has done an exceptional job of “pulling a Misha” and making us fall in love with him by the end of his first scene. I was not expecting that one bit.

I’ll be honest and say that over the hiatus I haven’t paid too much attention to him. I did read some of the meta and speculation that @tinkdw and others put out there, but it was never really something I focused my thoughts on. I figured he would be another character that would test the team free will dynamic and would be a good avenue for the writers to comment on the concepts of nature vs nurture. I remember reading some speculation once the episode titles first came out about “The Scorpion and the Frog” and anyone who knows that story knows very well that the title itself foreshadows Jack going darkside – to his own potential destruction. (The scorpion, in carrying out its own “nature” and stinging the frog that carried it – not only doomed the frog, but doomed itself as well.)

Jack has officially won me over though. He was a charming innocent and funny character, and I think his interactions with Clark brought a lot of light to an otherwise terribly angsty and painfully heart breaking episode. (#bringbackClark2k17)

But what really blew me away was how both Jack AND Clark were such OBVIOUS mirrors for Dean and Cas and to a lesser extent to Sam. It amused me to no end. Therefore this review will focus on those mirrors, and what they mean.

Long post under the cut

Jack is a narrative mirror of Team Free Will

This is the important thing to remember. He is all of them, and will have aspects of all them characterised into his personality as we continue to get to know the character in the coming episodes.

I am sure that there are already thousands of words of meta on this topic (since I’m over a week late to the game) but I’m gonna throw my hat in the ring anyway.

The most obvious mirror we get from Jack is for Castiel. I have said already that Castiel was all over every single scene of 13x01. That Dabb didn’t want the audience forgetting him for a second. (thank you Dabb you wonderful man). I have already seen the many gifsets floating around comparing all of Jack’s “Cas” moments to the original famous Cas moments in the show - and we know that this carries over into episode 2 as well.

Firstly, we can see immediately in the way Jack is dressed that he is coded as a Cas mirror:

Look at the tan jacket, the pale blue shirt, visually he is already a mini Cas. Remember they could have dressed him in ANYTHING. They chose a tan Jacket and pale blues. They chose these colours because this show has a visual library and certain things always mean certain things. Put someone in a tan coat or jacket and they are a Cas mirror. This is how these things work.

(the bulls horns hand symbol does however have Lucifer connotations which ties him to his biological father whether he likes it or not - but more on that when I go on about signs and symbols).

Probably the most “Cas” like moment in this episode was this one:

(x)

Poor baby is just as literal as his dad:

(x)

But there are many more. The constant confused expression for starts:

(I’m still waiting for the moment he actually does the head tilt as we all know it’s coming)

The scene with the candy was delightful - and gave him the fandom pet name of “Nougat Winchester” which I have stolen from Lizzy as my new tag for him because its so fitting.

(and we like you sweetheart)

(on that note - I did find it interesting that Jack isn’t able to answer the Sheriff when she asks him for a last name. Surely he knows his mother’s name was Kline? Why didn’t he give her that? We were all calling him “Jack Kline” over hiatus, but now it doesn’t seem like its the case - personally I think this is because he will indeed get “adopted” as a Winchester and will use the surname at some point in future - probably in front of Lucifer causing a hell of a lot of anger. God knows the show has pointed out enough times over the past season that Castiel is a Winchester - leading to mainstream media giving him the last name:

Why yes I did add my destiel adjacent quiz results to meta about Jack. I have no regrets. :P

Anyway, as I was saying Jack is a huge Cas mirror, and his adorably gluttonous love of candy was a call back to:

Perhaps we can once again talk about angels and addiction and how this may affect Jack? Because they really don’t have the self control that human’s do (even though Cas was affected by famine at this particular moment).

So why is Jack a mirror for Cas? Well this is probably the first clue:

I screamed the first time I watched this moment. I think we all expected it to remain subtextual. We all know that this season will explore the role of fatherhood and how it affects each character, but this was so much more than we were expecting. Jack is a Cas mirror because he has majorly imprinted on Cas from the womb. He is first and foremost a Cas mirror because Cas is on his mind from the moment of his birth, and this reveal confirms it. Every question of “Father?” that he says so ominously in the first part of the episode is directed at Castiel. It is Castiel he was looking for, not Lucifer.

I did say that Castiel was in every second of this episode, forcing the audience to continuously remember him and his importance - and this moment made me jump for joy.

The way the episode continuously plays with the audiences expectations is really interesting. They want us to assume the worst of Jack, but each time he surprises us by delighting us with some adorable Cas like thing. Jack says “I’m hungry” and we are supposed to feel uneasy about that because just 2 seasons ago we had another very hungry powerful child who fulfilled her hunger by eating human souls. We are supposed to worry about Clark in that moment, and to follow the Sheriff down the darkened halls and flickering lights terrified of what Jack has done - but he is sitting there cross legged on the floor with Clarke surrounded by candy wrappers and proclaiming how much he likes nougat. Its a lovely moment and it forces the audience to change their minds completely.

When Jack reveals that he thinks Cas is his father, our reaction is much the same as Sam’s, but we fall for him just like Sam does, and it sets the season up nicely because for once the audience is NOT supposed to be on Dean’s side here. (I’ll talk about this more in my review of episode 2 where it is more relevant but basically, we are supposed to feel sorry for Dean because we know that he isn’t seeing things clearly. We are supposed to root for Jack and be on Sam’s side in all this, and to see Dean as a character shrouded in a deep grief and anger)

I love that they made it textual that Cas is the father. (major flashbacks to 11x06 right now though)

“Jenny, he is not ready to be a father!”

I’ll continue jumping for joy over this as the season goes forward, but for now I want to talk about how Jack is also a mirror for Dean. Because he is and it again, wasn’t subtle.

(x)

A young boy on a quest to find his father, to have to accept the death of his mother right at the start, and who is forced to grow up far quicker than he should? Yeah that sounds about right.

Whilst Dean and Jack seem at odds with each other from the start, they are both set up as mirrors in their joint grief for Castiel. That heart wrenching moment at the end of the episode where Dean is wrapping Castiel’s body for the pyre comes only moments after we get to see Jack’s own grief for his mother so touchingly portrayed as a grip to her covered foot. Both Dean and Jack are only shown touching the feet of those they lost, there is probably some deep symbolic meaning to that linked to Christ and washing the feet of his disciples or something but I’ll leave that meta to someone far more versed in bible lore than me.

We know that in episode 2 the Dean parallels get much stronger, with Dean being the second Winchester (after Cas) that he imprints upon. I’ll talk about this in my episode 2 review, and instead leave this here. Jack is Dean for his grief, and his ties to humanity, and how he has been robbed of his childhood. I am interested to see how they go about keeping Jack innocent. He is in the body of a man, but his mind is still so childlike. I hope that he becomes a symbol for Dean’s own innocence in a theme started in 12x11.

Finally, the one touched on the least in episode 1 but probably the most significant to Jack’s own arc going forward - Jack as a mirror for Sam.

What so far is probably the least obvious in terms of mirror’s is actually the most obvious in terms of story lines. There is a reason Sam so desperately wants to believe in Jack, believe that he is good and can do good things. Because Sam has been in this situation himself.

Sam’s entire early series arc was about fighting the darkness inside himself, fighting against his own dark powers that came from a place of evil, and resisting Lucifer’s pull. Sam’s been there. So of course Sam is rooting for the kid. Sam and Jack have the biggest connection in terms of their connection to Lucifer. Sam immediately tries to see things through Jack’s point of view. Yes, he’s not as tied down with grief and anger as Dean is - Sam hasn’t just lost the love of his life (though the deancas parallels to SamJess are very strong throughout 12x23 and 13x01 as well).

Sam still has hope, because he see’s himself in Jack. He knows he managed to resist that dark power, and he has faith that Jack can to. I expect the Sam/Jack mirrors to come through far more strongly in episode 3 when we see them interacting together without Dean there to cause conflict, so it will be interesting if we get to delve more into Sam’s past and trauma this season, as it’s about time the show focused on his issues around Lucifer.

Clark as the exposition for Cas’s return... among other things

I could talk for hours about Jack and everything he stands for, but right now I just need to add this about Clark, because boy did he pull focus. In an episode so heavy with grief and full of reminders of Castiel as well as establishing Jack into the audiences mind, Clark comes out of no where and almost steals the show (almost).

When we are introduced to Clark only 5 minutes into the episode, he is mucking around with the menu changing every item into something ‘butt’ related. I could meta on this but tbh its so very on the nose that I don’t think it’s needed. You all know exactly what Burgers and Butts are making us think of. Its juvenile but its hilarious (my personal favourite is the salty butt combo - a bit of salt is a good thing especially in destiel fandom!).

So skipping past those obvious jokes, what interests me most about Clark is this:

“He’s fired me like seven times... and I keep coming back.”

Look at this face! Dark hair, Blue eyes, extremely charming? Hello Cas mirror!

also:

4x22 - Killed by Raphael

5x22 - Killed by Lucifer

7x01 - Killed by returning the souls (Dean thought he was dead before he healed himself)

7x02 - Killed by Leviathan

8x02 - Left for dead in Purgatory

9x03 - Killed by April

12x23 - Killed by Lucifer

At this point in the show, Dean has watched Cas “die” seven times. I don’t think the above was an accident.

The fact that Clark then says “Around here, I’m untouchable” is kind of hilarious. Since Clark later gets stabbed with an angel blade - AND SURVIVES.

However for the rest of the episode, Clark is so much more of a Dean mirror, to Jack’s Cas mirror. Clark shows Jack his humanity. He makes Jack happy enough for his powers to make the lights flicker (honestly if this doesn’t make the whole grace orgasm blowing out the lights head canon real I don’t know what does). He feeds him candy, jokes around with him, and is generally such a playful and charming character that we can’t quite help but associate him with Dean.

I love how Clark’s mum the Sheriff tells the police officer that “There’s no such thing as weird, everyone is normal in their own way” because isn’t that just a massive shout out to anyone who is slightly ‘different’? All of us who identify with this show about the ‘weird’ things because we are a little bit weird ourselves? Whose to say what is normal and whats not?

What I love about this line is that it backs up my claim that the show is trying to prepare the audience in a way for things they may not expect... especially the part of the audience that watches for macho men, guns and death - the Republicans, the dudebros, the right wingers, the assholes who think that to fit in in this world you have to fit into some idealistic little box. Well, believe me this show has a few surprises in line for those people. I can’t wait for it to all come to a head.

Team Free Will

Ultimately, what 13x01 has shown us is that Jack is a combination of ALL of team free will. He is his own person of course, but he shares elements and traits with all of them. I think it’s so fitting that so soon after Dean’s memorable speech to Cas in 12x19:

“You, Me, and Sam, We’re just better together. So now that you’re back, lets go Team Free Will”

In which Dean brought this term back for the first time in canon since it was used in 5x13, do we now have a character who is the embodiment of all three of them. For me, it seems that this was intentional and that Dean’s words really were the truth - that once Cas comes back, all three of them will be able to save Jack from himself, along with any other nastiness that comes their way. It is my absolute belief that the moral of season 13 will be that Dean, Sam and Cas need each other, and need to work together in order to defeat whatever evil comes their way. Jack is proof of that. How he mirrors all three of them, and is at this point in time, internally divided:

He has Cas’s innocence, naivety and endearing curious nature, as well as his angelic power.

He has Dean’s humanity, his desire to be good, and a need to reach out to people and bond with them.

He has Sam’s inner darkness, linked to his emotions and leading him to question his own monstrous nature. His struggle between his own inner good and evil.

When these three sides of him conflict, it will cause problems. Just like how conflict between Dean, Sam and Cas is usually the primary cause of disaster in the supernatural universe. Jack’s fate, and his ability to control himself and his opposing sides, is intrinsically tied to Team Free Will themselves coming together and actually working as a team once again.

And I bloody well can’t wait to watch this story play out.

#supernatural #spn meta #jack the nephilim #nougat winchester #episode review #13x01 #season 13 #spn spoilers #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #destiel #mirrors and parallels

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