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lokis-lady-death · 5 years

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Bake-tastic One

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Lady Death: I tagged anyone I thought might be interested! Just a simple two part story about a girl meeting a man and baking some cupcakes. I did this by request for a super awesome mutual’s birthday! @kcd15 I hope you enjoy it, I’m so sorry it’s late but you get two parts for being so patient <3 Hope you enjoy!

Bake-tastic

Step One: Introductions

“Don't Stop Believin’ by Journey,” you recognized immediately. “Good choice.” There was no hiding the delight on your face as you laid back in your chair, slipped on your sunglasses, and sang along to the tune.

You couldn't help but think this is how everyone should spend a day off, lounging on a balcony in California, dazing in and out of a mid-day nap to the sound of soulful tunes on the perfect playlist.

It was such a cliche spring morning, really. The sky was that bright shade of blue with sparse clouds, the breeze blew just enough that it kept the air at the right temperature. The city was even more peaceful than usual, with birds chirping, kids playing and hardly any cars passing by your condominium. The only real sound you heard was the music emanating from your neighbor's place above your head.

The main reason you enjoyed these days? Frankly, you needed the distraction. You were a full time barista at a local big bakery that catered to the cupcake-addicted southern L.A. day walkers and all you wanted was to unwind. Bake-tastic, despite its horrifically punny name, was actually an up and coming hangout spot that was making a name for itself among the baked goods industry.

The only problem?

You weren't baking.

Growing up in the south, you had loved everything about baking since you were a little girl in your grandmother’s kitchen, playing in her aprons and sneaking off with her cookbooks, but it wasn't until when you sister asked you to move to move to Cali that you decided to act on your passion.

But, as it turned out, if you want to bake here, you needed experience. Experience no one was willing to give you. All you had managed to do was make coffee and take orders for cakes and other treats you weren’t allowed to actually create.

That honor was left to the owner of the bakery, a man whom, in your months of working there, had never once come in during the day shift. You never met the mysterious baker, but couldn’t deny his talents the first time you tried his mixed berry tarte. Everything he created was a miniature masterpiece all their own. You wanted desperately tk meet him, or even more, bake with him, but that was a quickly squashed dream. He kept to himself, prefering to come after closing to bake everything throughout the night. The next morning, when you and your coworkers would arrive, all you would need to do was set out the new baked goods and make coffee. The others were fine with the remedial tasks, but you were not.

It wasn’t necessarily living the dream, but the music had a nice way of dulling out the disappointment.

If your sister had been out there she would be complaining about it, but truthfully you enjoyed your little free concerts. It required no work on your part and in today's world, you could use some mindless way to unwind. It wasn't long before you recognized a pattern in when the music played: usually in the afternoons of week days, stopping promptly at seven, Saturday morning and most of Sunday. Not particularly meaning to, you began to plan breaks outside around when the neighbor would have their music on. It had become a sort of ritual: weekdays when you got off work you would shower, throw on your bathrobe, and come lounge until seven. On weekends, you spent your mornings sipping coffee in your pajamas.

This Saturday was no different. Right at six in the morning, the neighbor's sliding door opened, releasing a symphony of classic rock music out into the world. Here you were, ready to soak it up as you sang out the stress of your week through lyrics of musical geniuses with a cup of coffee in one hand and a freshly made strawberry Danish in the other.

It was around thirty minutes later, as you were going along to Matchbox Twenty’s 3am that your tone began to carry. By the second verse you had gotten a bit carried away, singing along and dancing in your chair as the words you had known by heart for nearly two decades came pouring out. You had become some enamored by the words that you didn't even notice the music had been turned down.

When the next song began, you took in one last deep breath of spring air, stretching your arms up above your head until you heard that satisfying pop of your shoulders. You had been rejuvenated and were ready for whatever the rest of your Saturday brought.

But just when you turned to walk back into the apartment, you heard someone ask, “Oh, are you going in already?”

There was no stopping the loud curse word from escaping your lips as you tried to pull yourself back into your skin. Whipping around, you expected to see a man to go along with that sharp comment.

Yet you were alone, left only with the sound of a haughty laugh.

“I'm terribly sorry, I certainly didn't mean to frighten you.” You distinctly noticed the smart British accent as he went on, “It's just that I had been listening to you sing so I thought I ought to say something….”

Your face felt it had caught fire by embarrassment of someone, a stranger- a possibly handsome British stranger- had heard you singing. A hand slapped over your mouth to stifle a gasp.

You were so mortified you could scream, but there was also a part of you curious how much he had heard.

When you still didn't respond, the englishman went on, “She's gone and I'm here talking to myself, aren't I?”

“No,” you couldn't help but laugh nervously, “I'm still here.”

“Good. I'd look rather mad out here going on to an invisible woman, wouldn't I?”

The two of you shared a laugh, followed by an unfortunate silence before he added, “It seems we have a similar taste in music. You know just about every song I ever play.”

Again your cheeks went ablaze.

“I mean, it's not like I just come out here and listen to you, that would be absurd. It's just, you come out here nearly every time I turn on my ipod, surely you noticed?”

You realized it was the same neighbor who played the music every day. Biting down on your lip, you stopped from admitting you planned your free time at home around when he turned his tunes on. The two of you were starting to sound like either a cheap romance movie from Hallmark channel or a murder documentary off Investigative Discovery .

When you still hadn't spoken up, he rambled on. “That possibly came across a bit awkward, I didn't mean it as though I'm just out here listening to you…” he corrected. “I only meant I enjoyed what I've heard.”

At that you had to smile. His tone was sincere enough, even a tad cute as he tripped over himself, but with that accent alone he sent a flutter through your stomach.

‘Is that what I'm reduced to?’ you wondered, ‘Pining after men because of accents?’

“I haven't heard you leave, does that mean I didn't completely ruin this first impression?”

At that, you couldn't keep quiet. “Your first impression was actually Bruno Mars That's What I Like,” you teased, almost annoyed with how airy your voice came out.

Maybe it was because he wasn't in front of you or maybe it was because his voice just oosed with charm, but there was something else that just pulled at you.

“Well, was it a good impression?”

Your smile widened. “It's improved.”

He let out a roar of a laugh, even clapping his hands at the retort. “That's good," he paused," I don't suppose you'll be back out today?"

The question struck you, making you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“We'll see,” you said finally. “It'll depend on what you play.”

“I suppose I'll have to make the playlist extra special then, won't I?” he returned, a touch of smugness etching into his tone.

You smiled again, opening the door to step back into your apartment as you tried to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “I suppose you will.”

As soon as you closed the door, you bolted to your sister's room to wake her up.

You threw her door open as you called out, “Steph? Hey, Steph, do you know the guy that lives in the upstairs apartment? Steph, wake up!”

She rubbed her eyes, letting out a deep yawn just before stretching out her back like a cat. “What guy? The loud one?”

Your eyes rolled back while you grunted, “Yes! Do you know what his name is?”

Her shoulders shrugged, her eyes lulled in a half sleep, half hungover state. “He is simply known as Loud British Jerk.”

Your brow creased, “How do you not know his name but you know he's British?”

“Because he talks, like, super loud and always has his doors open.”

Reasonable answer, but your sister was also one of the single most nosey women you had ever known. You leaned in, pressing on, “What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing? Jeeze, y/n, I don't eavesdrop on people anymore. What's gotten into you, did he play a song that got your panties all ruffled? You wanna go bake him granny's old apple turnover and tell him you like his butt? ”

“First off that's not even the phrase you think it is, second I think a simple yes or no would suffice.”

Going to stand up, sure that it was a waste of time to expect her help, Steph took your hand.

“Geeze, sorry, didn't realize you were so worked up. Come on, sit.” You sat down on the side of her bed while she scooted up on her pillow to better reach her cellphone. “Look, I'll text Lexi, she works down at the pool, she knows all the hot guys who live here.”

You couldn't help but scoff, “Thanks, I guess?”

“So you know what that means? If she doesn't know his name, he's not hot.”

She offered you her cheesiest, exaggerated wink she could muster, earning a short snort out of you before you shook your head. “I need to go take a shower, I guess let me know if she says anything.”

“Alright, and I'll see if I can pull him up on social media.”

You walked out to the pleasant sound of Steph texting her friend, knowing soon you might have a name to go with that voice you couldn't get out of your head.

*****

Tom had been outside listening to you for over thirty minutes before he had mustered up enough courage to actually say something to you.

It wasn't something he had particularly planned, though he had meant to speak to you sooner. The thing was, he wasn't from around there and there were certain normalities he didn't quite understand.

Certain ones were less socially involved, such as driving on the wrong side of the road, the use of American made cars verses the German models he bad grown up with.

But it was earlier that week when Chris, his Australian work friend, came by to go over a project they were collaborating on that he noticed his social cues might need some help.

They had just been discussing an upcoming book deal they were working on together when Tom suddenly quieted his friend before reaching for his Ipod to turn the music down.

“What are you-”

“Shhh,” Tom instructed with a finger pressed to his confused friend's lips. “Listen.” He held a hand to his ear, cut his eyes towards the open balcony doors and smiled. “Don't you hear it?”

Chris furrowed his brow but did what he was told, just a bit less enthusiastically. After a minute he finally answered, “Singing?”

“Yes, but more than that. What else?”

“Well she clearly doesn't know the words to Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“No!” Tom corrected sharply. “Can't you hear it? You can practically feel her soul coming out in these words. It's just so real, so… Refreshing.” His back turned and he began filling his mother's old kettle with water, going on, “She does it every day, just goes outside and sings along to my music. It's the most peculiar thing.”

“I sing along to the radio all the time, you never say nice things to me about it?”

“Yes, but this is different. She's coming outside to sing to MY music.”

“And?”

“And? And?!” Tom three his hands into the air, going on, “And, he says.” There was a silence between the two of them as the song cut off and the singing stopped. Tom set the kettle on the stove and turned back to face the still creased-browsed Chris. “I don't know, it's just nice to me, I suppose.”

It was now time for Chris to speak and he really just didn't know where to begin. “So you interrupted me telling you how much money we are about to make on this cookbook deal because you were listening to your neighbor sing to herself?”

“When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

“That's exactly what it is!”

“Oh no, it's not like that. She does it all the time, it's kind of like our thing.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and Inhaled sharply. “Your thing, eh? And who is this lucky young lady that you eavesdrop on a daily basis?”

“Eavesdrop?” he laughed but wasn't smiling. “I'm, no, I'm not eavesdropping, I'm just simply appreciating someone else's ability to let go. It's no different than listening at a karaoke bar. ” His confidence lessened when he quietly remarked, “Also, I don't know her name.”

“Have you even spoken to her?”

“No, we haven't the chance…”

“You know she's outside every single day, what do you mean there wasn't a chance?”

Tom's mouth opened to oppose but no words ever materialized. Slowly he closed his mouth and swallowed a lump in his throat. “I should talk to her then?”

“In the very least introduce yourself, what harm would it do? You never talk to the hot girls I hire for you at the bakery, the least you can do is talk to one that for whatever reason you started stalking her. Talk about music.”

Fast forward to the day he actually managed to speak to you. Now, after making a complete arse of himself, he didn't know if you would ever come outside again and what was worse he didn't even remember to tell you his name.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he reasoned, "I could still mend this first impression."

After he knew you had left, he bolted inside to find his phone. He texted Chris what happened and waited impatiently for him to respond with:

~Actually, about that neighbor girl, I got a REALLY interesting call from Lexi you may wanna know about~

Tom’s brow furrowed at the comment, curiously asking what he heard.

He called him and nearly fell out of his chair at the news.

*****

The steam of your shower had filled up your room by the time you came sashaying out. With a towel around your waist, you planted yourself down at your desk and opened up your laptop. Just as you opened the web browser, Steph can barging in.

“Y/N!”

Your hands went up instinctively to cover your chest, cursing out, “What the hell!”

“I got it!” she exclaimed, “And you are just gonna DIE!”

“His name, you got his name?” Your grin stretched from ear to ear as you pressed further, “Well? What is it?!”

“I can do one better,” she teased, holding her Tiffany blue phone out for you to see. “I found him on Facebook, and Look!”

You had to lean back for the up close image to fully resonate with your retinas, but when you got a good glimpse, you took the phone from her hand and stared.

It was his profile picture, a face to go along with that voice. The image only showed him from the waist up, dressed in jeans and a white button up, but to you it showed enough. His eyes stood out immediately, a striking seafoam blue that sparkled along with the toothy grin he offered the camera. His hair was a strawberry blonde that was neatly trimmed but still long enough to curl. High cheekbones, sun-kissed skin, along with the more than sunny backdrop of his photo painted a portrait of an outdoorsy, fun loving sort of guy. Looking at him while imaging that velvety English accent sent a shiver down your toes that you couldn't hide.

“A total babe, right?” your sister beamed. “And judging by his profile, he's single!”

You swallowed hard. “That, yeah, that's awesome.” It felt like he was staring back at you through the photo, and finally you made yourself scroll over to see his name. “Tom,” you said out loud with a smile.

Steph reached over and took her phone from you, offering you, “I haven't even told you the best BEST part. My friend is dating his friend and guess what?”

You stared at her, blank faced. “What?”

“He’s the guy who owns Bake-tastic! This is the guy you’ve been pining over since you moved here!”

You looked over at your laptop, thinking about how many times you wondered what the mysterious baker must look like, googling and yet failing to ever find any remnants of him. Judging by his way with sweets, you honestly expected a thicker, maybe older gentleman, not someone worthy of being a model.

But that’s not what you saw.

Looking him over, taking it all in, realizing it was his playlist you had been listening to all this time, his pastries you had been idolizing, you wondered if maybe this was a sign.

“You know what you gotta do right?” your sister asked with a playful grin.

“What?”

She scoffed as if the answer was obvious. “You gotta go bake with him!”

At that, you made a sour face, shaking your head at the very notion. “No, he doesn’t like teaching and he certainly wouldn’t want a novice messing up a days’ worth of work. No, I’m not doing that-”

“Oooo, that’s too bad,” Steph ached, her face not reflecting the sympathy her voice tried to persuade. “Because I definitely told my friend to ask about you helping out in the bakery.”

“You WHAT?”

As it turned out, Steph’s friend Lexi was dating Chris Hemsworth, a well known heir of the Hemsworth Lodging hotels. His image was the only one you could ever come across in your searches for Bake-tastic's ownership. He made donations to various organizations and raised money for charities, but what wasn't oublically as well known was his investments he made in his friends.

Tom just happened to be one of those friends, a baker in need of a bakery. So, Chris forked up the money and Tom got straight to work, building a name for himself in L.A. while Chris managed the business side of it. The only issue for Tom was he felt very out of place in such a large city, even as diverse at it was. Nothing about it ever quite felt like home, so rather than branch out into the world, he worked late hours and insisted on solitude.

It felt bizzare hearing the story from Steph, but it made you feel better when she assured you Chris and Tom didn’t know all the details about you.

“I just said my friend’s sister is an aspiring baker and would love to, like, shadow Mr. Hiddleston or whatever. I gave them your name, but only because you work at the bakery,” Lexi assured when you called to ask exactly what happened. “Chris was more than happy to ask Tom if he was willing to show you around his kitchen and he said for you to come tonight.”

“Tonight?” you exploded, realizing you hadn’t the mental preparation needed to meet the British bombshell of a baker after that awkward balcony encounter. “What if he knows it’s me?”

“He’s never met you, just listened to you sing a few lame songs. How would he know it’s you?”

*****

“Oh, it’s definitely her,” Chris repeated over the speaker phone to Tom. “See, here, I’ll forward you her info.”

Tom stared blankly at the Facebook page, gazing into your eyes as he matched it with the voice he had heard earlier that day. His phone dinged as he received a forwarded email from Chris containing your original job application to Bake-tastic as well as a copy of your driver's license.

“That is just too much of a coincidence, surely you’re pulling my leg?” Tom snipped, shaking his head. But looking down at your image, he hoped it wasn’t foolish to want it to be true. “And she wants to bake with me?”

“Lexi made it clear, she came to California to be a baker and she loves everything you make in the shop. And the best news? She already has a serious crush on you! I’m telling you, if you want to make a better first impression on this woman, you need to let her work with you tonight.” When he didn't immediately agree, Chris added, "I already told her to be there at six, all you have to do is show up and be charming."

Tom inhaled sharply, staring at the image a bit longer before finally conceding.

*****

You had gone through numerous outfits while you tried to figure out what you were going to wear. Jeans, skirts and leggings were all thrown around your room, shirts crumbled up on the floor, shoes spilled out of your closet as you tossed pair after pair aside.

Your sister had finally come and picked out something for you: a loose fitting blue t-shirt dress with gray closed toe wedges. "Not too dressed up to work in a kitchen, but nice enough to hopefully get a callback from your impromptu date," Stroh said, stepping back to admire her creation. "AND IT HAS POCKETS!"

"It's not a date, it's a baking lesson if anything," you corrected, though after you put your hands in the pockets and did a twirl, you had to admit your heart was fluttering at the idea of an all night cooking session with Tom.

However, when it was finally time for you to leave, you started choking up. "I can't," you started spatting off over and over." I can't, this is a bad idea, what if I mess up one of his recipes? What if I embarrass myself? What if I use salt instead of sugar?" your eyes widened, "What if he doesn't like me?"

"You'll be fine, just do what you always do!" When you still looked unsure, she went on, "You're great, y/n, and he'd be an idiot not to see it. A beautiful, British idiot. " Steph offered you a sincere smile, enough to spur you on. "And for the love of everything decent, please flirt!"

You swallowed hard, did one last look over in the mirror, then grabbed your purse and made the fifteen minute walk down the block to the bakery.

When you arrived, the main store front had the lights off, but from the kitchen door you could see a faint illumination.

Tom was just beyond that light.

Repeating, "I can do this," to yourself, you walked through the front door, setting off the gentle ding of the bell that alerted staff of a customer arriving.

“Hello?” you called out, unsure if you had the right time. Looking down at your phone, you were only a couple of minutes early so rather than wait in the doorway, you went on in. Your mind began urging, begging, pleading for you to turn back. It’s not too late, it said, go ahead, high tail it out of here.

‘No. I have to do this,’ you pushed on. ‘I have to know what’s beyond that door.’

Mustering up the courage, feeling something in the pit of your soul tell you this was right, you called out again, “Hello? Mr. Hiddleston? I'm here to, uh, help for tomorrow's set up?"

A loud, disembodied voice came from the kitchen, “Yes, come into the back! And lock that door, won’t you? Don’t need anyone walking in off the street.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to pound as you set the lock. Slipping your phone in the pocket of your dress, you tucked your purse under the cash register before walking back towards the kitchen.

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monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my · 5 years

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What We Lost and What We Have

I decided to also post the fic on Tumblr since I’m desperate for feedback, and I’m really excited for this AU and I want to know if other people are too... because I really want to know if there’s an audience for it... (also on AO3)

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May 18, 2000, the night Sam learned 3 things.

John had cheated on Mary. Kelly Kline was dead. And his younger half brother Jack was born…

Nearly 17 years later their family never really recovered. But after a panicked phone call from Jack’s uncle Castiel, their family will never be the same.

“It’s Jack, there’s something wrong with Jack…”

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Next Chapter

Complete Tumblr Chapter Archive

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Chapter 1: Exes, siblings, and drunken mistakes

May 18, 2000

Sam had just turned 16 two weeks earlier.

Up until that point, the worst thing that had happened to him was being dumped at his sophomore winter formal and having his CD player stolen out of his locker by Bela, the opportunistic klepto of a foreign exchange student from Pre-Cal the same night.

They were celebrating Dean moving into his first solo apartment the night they got the call.

Sam had gone upstairs to get a head start on his summer reading list but he could hear the rest of his family laughing and talking over the game through his cracked bedroom door.

He'd barely even heard the phone ring and his mother getting up to answer it, only taking note after he heard the volume on the television being lowered dramatically.

"What'd you say Mary?" his dad asked, the smile still in his voice.

"I said, do you know a Castiel?" Mary repeated.

"Castiel? I don't think so, maybe someone from the shop, Dean?"

Dean must have shaken his head because he never heard a response.

"Well whoever he is he sounds really upset," Mary sounded concerned.

He couldn't make out what his mother asked the man on the phone but then…

"Castiel Kline?"

There was a deathly silence, curiosity got the better of Sam, he closed his book and went down the stairs. John had gone white as a sheet.

"He says you knew his sister…" Mary turned to look at John, eyebrows raised, "and he really needs to speak to you."

John had nearly snatched the phone from Mary in his haste apologizing profusely.

Sam had stayed hidden by the stairs his entire family looking on as John walked quickly to the kitchen.

Dean looked confused, Mary looked shell shocked. Neither moved.

But Sam did he tiptoed quietly to the kitchen door staying just outside it eavesdropping on one side of John's phone conversation."

"What do you mean she…? Calm down, I can't understand what you’re saying, slow down. What happened?"

John was pacing the room, running a hand through his hair panic in his tone and posture bent like everything teetered on the voice on the other end of the line.

"How can you be sure it's… he's… Kid, I didn't even know she was... I met her once... she never told me!"

Sam heard footsteps and jumped, his mom had finally unfrozen and moved towards the kitchen. She was shaking slightly, her mouth set tightly, eyes watering, he stepped guiltily out of her way.

"John… what's going on?"

The screaming started less than a minute later. Dean eventually pulling him away back toward the living room.

And that night Sam had learned 3 things.

John had cheated on Mary.

Kelly Kline was dead.

And his younger half brother had been born…

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April 21, 2007

Another night he'd never forget.

Dean had said John had gotten in a car accident when he called him at Stanford, a stupid little fender bender.

The other driver had come around to John’s driver side window pissed off ready to give John a piece of his mind only to find him slumped over, pronounced dead by paramedics on the scene five minutes later, an apparent heart attack behind the wheel.

"I know you don't give a shit about him anymore, but at least come to his fucking funeral."

The years had not been kind to the brother's relationship, but even Sam thought that was uncalled for. He wasn't going to leave Dean alone to deal with the aftermath.

He'd been in the middle of preparing for finals but he’d still come.

Dean hadn’t been big on lawyers ever since the bozo divorce lawyer who’d drawn up John and Mary’s papers had cheated them out of 6k.

He'd missed John’s service but not the burial. Listening to some preacher go on about what a great guy his dad was would only have brought up inappropriate angry thoughts. He knew Dean would be angry he didn’t show up, he would have been angrier if he’d laughed.

So he'd sat in his car until everyone started to leave. One or two great aunts and uncles he’d never met, guys who worked at the auto shop, sundry friends and neighbors. Mary had spotted him and came over knocking softly on the window and giving her son a silent hug before leaving.

When he finally got out there were only three people left.

Jack was six-years-old and tow-head then, - like he’d seen Dean in pictures at that age - hiding on the far side of Castiel, watching them nervously as he was led away from the graveside hand in hand with his uncle.

It had been a weekday so the boy had thankfully been with Castiel at the time of John's death.

His brother was standing at the graveside when Sam approached him, hands stuffed in his pockets swaying side to side. Like he was getting ready to fill in the hole himself if the gravediggers didn’t get there soon. Because it was something he could do with his hands and emotions, taking out his grief on the dirt.

It made Sam a little wary to approach him but he barely looked up and over when Sam came up beside him.

“Hey.”

They’d stood there in silence Sam mentally stumbling over a thousand things to say in his head.

"Well, dad’s... dead.”

He imagined Dean was probably silently seething.

“Maybe I should have asked dad to die at a better time so it fit into your busy schedule.”

Emotions neither one was ready to confront kept them from moving.

“Same time next year?”

Dean had said it sarcastically, and looking back Sam wished they’d had a better story but that was how their little tradition began.

Outside of major holidays or birthdays, it was one of the few times they made an active effort to see each other. Sometimes catching up, other times just visiting the site. Rain or shine, just the two of them.

Until today.

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April 21st, 2017

“It’s almost fucking summer,” Dean muttered, his breath puffing in the early evening air. He rubbed his hands together before handing Sam an even colder beer. Sam huffed and took it, and making no comment about how that would do next to nothing to help, or about how it was a trashy brand he hadn’t seen since pre-law.

“If it makes you feel better the weather channel says it’s the coldest spring in over a decade..” Sam sipped his beer and grimaced, it reminded him why he’d never been much of party-er in college.

But as Dean once put it “our family were salt of the earth people,” and he wore that fact like an aesthetic badge, like hipsters and the wannabe actors in Cali. Sam grinned a little at the thought.

Dean poured out 79 cents worth of beer for John before cracking open another bottle to drink himself.

“Happy ten years dad,” Dean smiled humorlessly. “Still managed not to burn your shop to the ground…”

He’d been waiting when Sam got there standing and looking down in the exact same way he did ten years previously. Rocking back and forth, processing, contemplating. Sam searched Dean’s back for something to say. A navy canvas covered back.

“You got a new jacket…”

“Huh?” Dean sipped his beer like he hadn’t heard him.

“I’ve always seen you wear Dad’s old leather one,” Sam insisted.

It took a ridiculously long time for him to respond, like Dean had settled on an unspoken rule that he had to wait until Sam's breath completely dissipated into the cool morning air before he could reply.

“Yeah well, maybe it’s too cold today, like you said ‘coldest spring of the decade,’ ever think of that Sammy?”

“It’s just a cool front, it’ll be in the seventies by tomorrow Dean,” Sam said flatly.

Dean fell silent again for a long moment.

“It’s been ten years… it got old, I got a new one, do you need me to psychoanalyze your henley now?”

Sam rolled his eyes in defeat letting the subject drop with another swing of dishwater beer.

If Sam remembered one thing about growing up with his brother it was that Dean was a creature of habit. Dean had never been big on school but he’d insisted on using the same backpack all throughout middle and high school, and one look at the parking lot told Sam he still drove dad’s old Impala, he’d repaired both items multiple times. Dean didn’t get rid of things because “it got old.”

“ It’s been ten years… ”

Maybe it was time for a change.

Sam swallowed in the charged silence, “ change... ” he’d been putting off talking to Dean about that.

He’d done something on impulse. He’d been roped into going out for drinks with his fellow junior partners in his firm after winning a case. Sorting out some accounting error that got at least three people fired. He hated those cases, making sure that companies weren’t liable for random bullshit that meant nothing in the long run. They’d had three like that in the same month. So... after a few drinks… he’d gotten sentimental, started thinking about his life choices, thinking about all the things he hadn’t done yet, the things he regretted.

Sam really should have asked Brady to stash his phone before they got to the bar.

But the secret he’d been keeping reared it’s deceivingly unassuming head before he had a chance to open his mouth..

The silence was broken by a distant but harsh sounding cough.

Dean glanced over his shoulder posture immediately stiffening, eyebrows raising, “What the hell…”

Sam at least had the good grace to look guilty.

Castiel looked about the same as Sam remembered him save for a few lines on his face. The same constant vaguely worried look was made more prominent by whatever he was talking to Jack about.

Jack, on the other hand, had changed a lot. He’d maybe been eleven the last time Sam had seen him. Since then his hair had considerably darkened with age from blond to sandy brown and he’d shot up half a foot. There wasn’t much of John visible in Jack’s face and if his resemblance to his uncle was anything to go by the Kline genetics were strong in him.

He looked a little washed out, blowing his nose in a tissue as they approached, a small bouquet of yellow flowers in his free hand, looking up from his conversation with his uncle to give Sam a cautious smile. Sam looked quickly away.

“I was uh… meaning to talk to you about... this…” Sam looked sheepish.

“Oh you were going to talk to me,” Dean scoffed, “Sam what are Jack and and and… saint Castiel doing here!?”

“I invited them?” Sam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Dean looked lost for words mouthing silently for a moment, "Okay Sam so explain this to me."

Sam huffed now he distinctly didn't want to answer him, "Dean could you just…"

"No no no please tell me," Dean seemed to puff up with indignation and betrayal, "what exactly possessed you to think that was in any possible way a good idea? because it's beyond me!"

“Six beers that did not taste like piss ,” he didn’t say.

"Is there a problem here?" Castiel and Jack had finally reached the grave. He kept himself a little in front of the teenager, protective. It was painfully familiar, even the look of nervous confusion on Jack's face.

"No, not all," Dean snorted, "I just thought… some things were sacred."

"He's dad's kid too, he has as much right to be here as we do!" Sam raised his voice done with his brother's verbal assault.

Said kid just coughed awkwardly.

Dean didn't even glance his way, "yeah sure, any other day he can have a goddamn picnic here if he wants, but not today… he's never come to-day…"

"I’m right here you know," Jack piped up annoyed.

"Dean, you're acting like a child," Sam was beginning to get pissed off. Dean was embarrassing him in front of people with one of his stupid hissy fits.

"Yeah well, maybe I am," Dean reached down to pick up what was left of the six pack, the remaining bottles rattling ominously.

"You see I thought… I thought maybe this meant something to you, that I still somehow knew you," Dean shrugged, "but you're right Sam, we're not kids anymore…"

And with that Dean left, returning the wary look he got from Castiel with a sarcastic smile.

Sam just sighed not following, instead turning his attention to Castiel and Jack.

Any of the anxious hope Jack’s face had held when they first walked up had gone, replaced with an unreadable expression.

Castiel looked shaken.

"I'm really sorry about him, he's just…" Sam trailed off he didn't have an honest excuse.

"No it's fine," Castiel sighed looking harassed, feathers ruffled so to speak by Dean's tirade.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come," he gave Jack a significant look that rubbed Sam the wrong way. He felt like he had to defend his brother.

"He's not usually like that it's just…" Sam trailed off feeling lost. He didn't even know why he was doing this, he'd invited them on a stupid drunken whim, and he barely spoke to Dean anymore. He was basically defending two strangers from one another. He didn’t feel like explaining his brother’s temper tantrum. He should have stayed in California at least there the people made sense.

“I’m sorry you drove all this way from…” Sam pulled up a blank.

“Indiana, Midway, Indiana,” Cas huffed, crossing his arms and looking colder than it was possible to actually be wearing at least three layers.

“Right,” Sam awkwardly swung his arms at his side, examining the freshly pruned grass for weeds.

He had cases he needed to get back to, they were barely two month’s out from a major merger and the firm had yet to finish writing out the paperwork. He spared a glance toward Jack.

Jack seemed to shrink into himself still half hidden behind his uncle’s coat, coughing quietly into his sleeve.

“You okay?” Sam tried.

“Hotel AC…” the kid muttered not looking him in the eye. “We um… we got in late last night, been hanging around there all day.” His free hand was tucked into his patterned jacket pocket, the one with the flowers tensed into a shaking fist, crinkling the plastic, biting his lip, like he was trying not to cry.

Sam felt bad for him, wanted to say something reassuring, but he knew if he looked over an inch he’d see Castiel, glaring at him like he’d just stabbed the kid.

“I um… I’m supposed to meet Mary at six…” Sam said lamely.

He heard no objections, "good to see you again," he sighed before walking away.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Dean stared down into his glass, swirling the amber middle shelf spirit; he’d tossed the cheap beer in the fridge before going out in search of something stronger.

He didn’t want to be alone and sober in that house… not tonight.

He took a long swallow from the glass then knocked it back against the bar counter, “fuck you Sam.”

“You got a ride home tonight Dean-o?” a familiar voice prodded sounding amused.

“You offering Gabe,” Dean gave the bar owner a thin smile.

Gabe chuckled topping off his glass, “just asking, I’d hate to have to sick the big guy on you for your keys…”

Dean glanced over his shoulder spotting the glum musclebound bartender. He was scrubbing at a table in harsh rapid spirals, treating sticky beer and peanut bits with all the intensity of someone cleaning up blood from a murder they committed.

“Where’d you find that anyway,” Dean snorted taking another mouthful of whiskey, “haven’t seen him around before.”

“Gadreel is just one of my many, many, siblings,” Gabe leaning back against the bar and shrugging, looking pleased with himself - though that was likely just his resting face -.

Dean squinted, besides brown hair, he didn’t see the resemblance.

“Gadreel?” Dean huffed into his glass, “ I get Gabriel, there’s tons of Gabriel’s, but where do you get a name like Gadreel?”

Gabe pretended to busy himself scrubbing out a lowball glass surreptitiously, “Our Dad was a religious nut, and his name started with G so he decided all his kids should have G names too. Actually, now that I think about it…” he paused to examine his reflection in the glass, “he may have just been an overall nutbag”

Dean opened his mouth to say something snide, then remembering he was named after his grandmother he decided to mind his own damn business and went back to his drink.

“Mom would have killed me if I didn’t get little bro the job,” Gabe paused eyeing Dean like he wanted him to ask why.

Dean let him hang for a long minute draining the rest of his glass and wiping his mouth before asking.

“Yeah, why?”

“Gadreel used to be a security guard for some big designer store downtown,” Gabe poured a drink for himself in the glass he’d just cleaned coming around the counter with the bottle to join Dean, - the bar was emptying out for the evening - .

“He let the wrong person in, the store got robbed, and he copped accessory charges for shit he didn’t do, ended up doing a stint in prison for it, it’s hard to get a job after that.”

Dean snorted, that sounded about right. The world was like that. You thought you knew how things worked one minute and then one friendly gesture later it spit in your face.

And Dean was beginning to think Sam was one of the most worldly people he knew.

“So how's that going for you, working with your brother,” Dean snorted at the concept, imagining Sam working at the shop was like imagining hiring a dog as a bailiff for one of Sam’s courtrooms, a terrible yappy one with a penchant for biting you in the ass.

“It’s fine, he’s a little stiff, ee-mmedially kills the mood if anyone tries to ya’know actually talk to him, but one look from him is all it takes to keep a hot-headed drunk in line so,” Gabe shrugged, “all things considered it’s a good trade-off.”

“Hmm…” Dean gave an unconvinced huff of a laugh.

“You ever work with family Deano?”

You could never completely tell with Gabriel, whether the man was actually trying to be a friend or just trying to get his patrons to buy more drinks. Dean hadn’t been in the mood to talk when he’d arrived but after four whiskeys the sun was burning low on his inhibitions.

“My dad…” Dean threw Gabe a bone tapping his glass in his general direction, “we uh… we worked together at his auto shop from when I was sixteen until a few years ago.”

Gabe poured him another glass, “Last call… I knew you worked at an auto shop, didn’t know it was your dad’s…”

“Yeah… he left it to me when he passed, it’s not like Sam would even know what to do with it even if he actually wanted it.”

The bar owner had the good graces not to comment on his dad’s death.

“Sibling problems Dean?” but apparently not the good sense not to ask about his brother.

“My brother’s a lawyer out in California, kid works in some big corporate firm and yet can’t breathe without letting me know how much more righteous he is, how that works I’ll never fucking know.”

Gabe snorted, “I got an older brother like that, Michael, real piece of work.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose.

“He goes by his middle name, first name is actually Gary,” Gabe quickly explained.

Very biblical name Gary...

“Yeah, well one idiot brother is enough for me,” Dean muttered darkly.

Today had been about six steps to far, Sam had never been as close as Dean was with their dad even before the divorce and after… he barely spoke to John from the time he moved out of the house until John’s eventual death.

Still Dean thought that even if John meant nothing to the man anymore that maybe this… thing they did... that it was their thing, meeting and going to pay respects at John’s grave. That they could just go there and deal with whatever shit they had about what had happened and just not be alone.

But inviting a kid, THAT kid… clearly what Dean thought and what Sam thought was very different.

He had no idea what their yearly meeting meant to Sam, if anything, and that terrified him.

Dean sat not saying another word clutching his glass so hard he was afraid it would shatter. Gabe seemed to lose interest after a while getting up and moving away to chastise his own brother.

“Hey, man go easy on the tables you’re gonna wear thru the varnish…”

Dean quietly got up, peeling a wad of cash out of his billfold and laying it on the counter, he was done talking for tonight. He headed out of the bar weaving slightly to call a cab.

The house was just as dead quiet as when he left it, he flicked on the lights, it didn’t really help anything, just threw the closed doors of his parents and Sam’s empty rooms into sharp contrast as he stumbled up to bed.

It was two in the morning when his cell rang a few hours later, bringing his throbbing head back into the land of the living, he saw Sam’s name and shut it off annoyed going straight back to sleep.

Only minutes later, the landline rang.

Dean kicked off the covers swearing under his breath before stomping downstairs to snatch up the old yellowed relic, ready to unleash a tirade at Sam.

“Do you having any fucking clue what time it is!?”

“Dean?”

It wasn’t Sam but the voice was vaguely familiar, “who’s this?”

“It’s… Cas… Castiel…” the man sounded shaken, “Samuel gave me your number.”

Dean’s still half drunk brain was at a loss, there were strange unidentifiable sounds in the background. He stayed silent in bewilderment.

“I um… I’m at the hospital... It’s Jack,” his voice cracked.

“There’s something wrong with Jack…”

#Supernatural #SPN #fanfiction #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Jack Kline #Castiel #family drama #father death #car accident mention #heart attack #sickfic #kinda #whump #emotional whump #Gabriel #Gadreel

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mariaaamaaarquez · 5 years

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the second one- where does this start?

okay okay so I guessss this is the part where I kind of have to talk about myself since honestly truly now that I think about it- not a lot of people know MY story.. its usually me asking to someone else what theirs is and why they are the person they are, but sometimes not even my closest best friends know, because they never asked? weird, I know lmao. buuuut okay where to start right? well I was born in Guatemala, September 21st 2001, for the ones who didn't know hahah aaaand I was a happy kid. always a happy kid. to keep the long story as short as possible, moms filed for a divorce, father said no. for my fifth birthday though, they both wanted to take me to Disneyland, in Cali. this meant that we had to get a tourist visa from Guatemala granting us permission to leave the country, which for those of you who don't know how that process works, its HARD. somehow we managed to get it, and a few weeks later I was celebrating my birthday in Disneyland. that was when my mom made the decision to run away from my dad. obviously telling this story now, I know we had family in Virginia. and being an immigrant traveling with your also immigrant daughter as you're already in the United States- not so hard. I woke up to my mom packing bags, she just told me to go back to sleep and that we were going to the beach later that day. I, listened to my mom, and proceeded to waking up basically in an airport. just like that my life had shifted. we flew into Virginia, and proceeded to living there, hiding for six months. hiding was tough. my father had even filed a missing child case basically saying I had been abducted. Amber Alert who, right? During my time there, I did start to notice money coming in, we would go shopping, and I would get random presents out of nowhere. AAAAnd thats where my stepdad comes in. Once again, to summarize, my (now stepdad) had been in contact with my mom ever since they were high school teenage sweethearts. when my mom split up with him, it was because he had decided to flee to the United States and stay as an illegal immigrant. that’s when she met my father and had me- talk about a cockblock. anyways I soon came to find out that all the money and presents coming in, were from him. he came to Virginia for Christmas, also took me to New York for the first time and I got to get hello kitty EVERYTHING inside that Toys R Us- and then we came back home to Virginia and I was completely in awe of how good this man was treating me and my mom- aaaandd thats when they dropped the bomb on me. We were moving to Seattle. shortly after making that decision, it was January of the year 2006 and I was on a plane (again) and headed to my new life, with a new dad, and SOOO many new toys. I was happy.

Fast forward a few months, moms is pregnant, has my brother in 2007, I can suddenly speak and understand English FLUENTLY, and I have an entire new family. As if it couldn't get crazier, my 3rd grade year, my biological dad reached out to my mom, told her he was in town. I had no idea until we stepped into the closest mall by my house, and there he was. Live and in the flesh, it was my father. I ran into his arms and obviously balled my eyes out, and I just couldn't believe it.

Fast forward a few years, he visited again and then after that visit went kind of MIA. No more emails, or letters, and most definitely no calls. When I turned 13, I still waited for that phone call, waited all day for my mom to tell me “your father’s on the phone” and nothing. Until it was 1AM, September 22nd, and my mom told me THATS when he called. 1 fucking am here, meaning 3 am over there, basically the day after my birthday. After that year, noting stayed the same. No longer waited, or anticipated, just- nothing. I later came to find out through social media, that he was having a daughter. Insane. I couldn't believe it, but part of me saw it coming. I mean this is what I wanted right? for him to move on and start his new life, and I didn't care anymore if I was a part of it... right? On my 16th birthday, he called. By this time I wanna say my little sister was probably around 3 or 4, (still hadn't gotten a call, until now.) When he called me I was in the middle of a small get together with just family, my boyfriend and bestfriends at the time had already left and I heard the phone ring. my mom looked at it and went silent, and showed me the phone. I knew who it was. I recognized the number. and I didn't want to answer, but I needed answers.

so I pick up.

“hello?”

“hi mija, god how I've missed you I can't believe I actually got a hold of-”

“stop.”

you can’t believe you got a hold of me? you never tried.

I proceeded to basically cussing him out, and asking about my sister. You know when you accidentally rat yourself out to your parents by saying something you shouldn't have? yeah thats exactly what happened to my not so dearly beloved father. he basically spit out that my sister’s mother was the same bitc- lady, that my dad had cheated on my mom with- go figure! no wonder the woman ran away from you, jesus.

“look, im sorry. god I am so sorry for everything I promise I will make it up to you what do I have to do?”

“never speak to me ever again. just like how I was basically dead to you and had no right to know the truth about everything, as far as im concerned the only thing that connects us is blood.”

he ruined my 16th birthday.

never talked to him ever again.

fast forward to my senior year- tf when did that happen?

I’m in Washington DC on a school trip (so much fun by the way AMAZING) and I call my mom to say hi and catch up (actually just calling because she was across the country and if she didn't hear from me she’d think I was dead inside the White House or something, hispanic moms, you know) and she then proceeds to tell me that she saw on Facebook (once again this damn social media) that my dad had just became a father, again. another baby sister. also that he had been living back and forth from Germany to Guatemala.

sounds like a blast daddy dearest.

(yeah he has a lot of money by the way, still waiting on the child support from the past decade but its good HAH)

FAST FORWARD AgaIINNN to March of 2019.

I became a legal resident of the United States, free to travel in and out of the country without a problem, free to work wherever I wanted, free to go to college and actually have a social security number when im asked for it- just simply free.

April 2019.

The month I got the chance to go back to my beloved Guatemala for the first time in thirteen years. THIRTEEN. To not bore you with all the details of my trip, on the last night, fate decided that it was time, and yes ladies and gents, there he was, in the flesh, my father. I always call him “father” and my stepdad “dad” just because all that other guy did was help with the process of me being born he was never a real dad to me ever, as heart wrenching and harsh as that may sound. so fuck him. seriously, fuck him. I saw him, with tears of anger streaming down my face and my entire body shaking, and he walks up to me crying.

he leans in for a hug.

“not a step closer don’t you dare touch me.”

he walks away and disappears into the crowd of hundreds of people, and I proceeded to having the worst panic attack I have ever had. paramedics asking if I was okay, my mom on the floor with me as I was sobbing and screaming, and everyone scared out of their minds because suddenly I felt trapped in a ball of water with no air as everyone watched the color of my skin slowly beginning to fade until I became white as snow. when I snapped out of it and finally calmed down, I cried. god I cried so damn much. I was so hurt, mostly because part of me thought he would take a stand for once and try. just try. even though I told him not to I knew a part of me wanted him to, but he didn't. and he disappointed me- just as I expected he would.

haven't heard of him since.

that was almost five months ago. and that leads us to today, the present! and thats my story, without all the minor details because with those included id have people reading for hours. But, even after this longgg ass post, if you're still here hi! thanks for reading, and for being interested in my story? not a lot of people tend to be, but if im gonna be writing on here I might as well include it- right?

anyways- yep thats me, this along w other crazzyyy things are part of what shaped me to be the person I am today. As for my family? My mom, my dad, and my little brother? I’d take a bullet.

and as for my father?

I don’t know,

I don’t bother to ask,

I don’t care.

besitos,

ria.

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steamishot · 4 years

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All COVID

So much has happened since the last time I wrote. That was when US/California started taking action. March 15 is when they announced that people will not be allowed to dine in at restaurants. I remember this clearly because I had a lunch date with steph at paper pot. We were the only ones at the restaurant, joking that social distancing was quite effective there. We also stopped by to get boba one last time before it was mandatory to remove the seating areas.

I stayed in most of my first week WFH because it was raining. My first couple days, I was a quite anxious about WFH. We are asked to submit a daily work log to our managers everyday, and also submit a weekly list of tasks that we wish to accomplish that week. My manager is super chill and protective of us - she told us that we must “cover our butts” and do not downplay anything we are doing. She stresses to upper management that all of our jobs are important. Currently, it seems that my department has a plan until April 19. Parking is also waived during this time (I’m saving so much money on not spending on gas and parking). It was discussed in the meeting that since many conferences, clinics, and activities are canceled, there’s not much need for admin support. If we will need to continue WFH after April 19, we may be able to last another month or so on doing part-time work and be compensated for the rest by administrative leave. Past that, furlough is on the table. I think our team should be safe though, because April to August is our busy season.

My second half of my first week WFH was heaven. Being able to sleep in til 8 and having the California sunshine wake me up was a dream. I was enjoying spending time with my family, not having to commute, being able to connect virtually with friends, and go hiking at the nearby trail.

I’m now halfway through my second week WFH. I honestly do not mind the quarantine life if it weren’t for the depressive state of our world. US is gonna surpass China and Italy in numbers soon. I feel like it’s hard to work in this anxious state. I’m even more worried because Matt is working on the frontline. Every time I see an article about how a doctor has died due to covid, it breaks my heart a little. But I also have to consider that it takes a certain personality and strength to be a doctor, and actual doctors don’t react to this the same way the general public does.

This week when I’ve talked to him, he acted calm and normal and is more distressed over noncovid related things. For example, he talked multiple times about how the Chair of his department kinda humiliated him/called him out for doing something stupid, about our housing situations, about being able to fly home or not next month, about the economic stimulus. But doesn’t seem very worried about covid in his hospital, and semi-playfully says “i’m going to war!!” when he leaves for work. His psychologist friend who is already an attending in an Arizona hospital sent him 2 packages full of masks, n95s as well as n-100s which are even stronger. I’m so grateful for that. Luckily, his mom asked him to steal some n-95s last month, so he has like 8 of those in storage too. It calms me down knowing that he has the proper supplies when it comes the time that they run out.

Also big news that I should write out - he matched! He’s waited a decade for this email. I’m happy for him even though his real dream would have been able to come back to Cali. I’m gaining more experience on being a doctor’s partner. I follow the subreddit medspouse a lot and it’s like I have friends going through the same things together - relationship struggles, match day, the fear of covid, etc. There are also frequent posts from people who are newly dating (~2 months) a resident or med student. A very common question is - are they even interested or are they just super busy? It’s become a part of my identity and it’s very interesting to read other people’s experiences.

A few months ago, we got into a big argument because he wasn’t able to give me a timeline of when to move in together in the case that he does match into Brooklyn. I was upset because I felt like he wasn’t sure about our future, and about wanting to live with me. I felt it was his way of pushing it off. He said it was because it was too much pressure to think past match day, because he would be so devastated if he didn’t match again. I didn’t truly understand or believe him. Right after he matched, he sent me a text “cutie pie is moving to NY”. And immediately, he brought up concrete plans about moving in together i.e. rent amount, neighborhoods, month of move in, etc. It made me feel so secure. This time, I was the one who couldn’t promise anything. Because COVID. I have no idea what’s gonna unfold these upcoming weeks and months. I was thinking that in the case I am furloughed, I can move onto a different job in NYC and have a smooth transition.

My dad is finally behaving more. He’s been following the news on TV nonstop. Along with this, my parents’ friends keep sending them sometimes fake news via wechat. My mom is especially gullible to these. My dad started cutting up onions to put around the house because “that’s what they did in the 70s” post bombing attacks. Some quality family time: I made my parents do virtual yoga with me. We basically eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together everyday, hiked with my mom, bonded (and sometimes argued) because of covid together.

Last thing is that I’ve been super interested in learning about borderline personality disorder these past couple days. My long-term friend B who I’ve complained about many times this past year and a half - I’ve finally labeled her as a toxic friend. The first few times I’ve described her to Matt, he instantly said BPD. I didn’t believe him at first and was just like nah she doesn’t have that. But he said it again recently and I looked up the symptoms. It was very descriptive. I believe that she started becoming a worse friend in the last 1.5 years or so because she stopped having a LTR boyfriend. When she has a LTR boyfriend, he becomes the main receiver of this whole BPD mess. That means, during our almost decade friendship, I never really saw that side of her because she’s been in LTRs. After her last relationship, she’s been jumping from guy to guy and having unstable short-lived relationships. However, I think she may have recently found another LTR guy. Since I am her “best friend”, I defaulted to being one of the receivers of her BDPness during this searching for a new person endeavor.

She became all take and no give (actually she did give me a sorry/Xmas gift and a birthday card). I kinda stopped relying on her and increasingly lost respect for her. She constantly sent me screenshots of text messages between her and her boy of the moment. I looked through our text images together yesterday and 90% were screenshots between her and a boy. And all we ever texted about were her boys. I didn’t really have an issue with this, until I saw how much more effort she put in for these boys, while getting very flat effort in our friendship (through text and in person). It was close to the last straw for me when she sent over some screenshots during the week we were transitioning to WFH. In my mind, I was thinking “how could you possibly still be concentrating on ONLY boys during a time like this”. She tried to make convo with me (in an effort to be less self-absorbed) the next few days with very little effort or interest in the things I was saying. I then got annoyed when her boy toy messaged me directly and asked about how to make her happy. I felt like omg - i can’t escape her love life. I later tried to have a convo with her about this, but was met with little effort, victim playing, and avoidance. Anyway, I’m social distancing myself from her by muting all her stuff on social media and muting the group chat I was in with her and her sisters. I don’t plan to really answer her messages anymore.

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sarcasticsaddo · 6 years

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MOVIE REVIEW: You Get Me

I did a poll on my instagram spam account (fatratglenn btw) and i got 100% votes for me to start and put movie reviews on my tumblr. so here goes nothing...

FIRST OF ALL.... this movie had 5 main characters - Holly, Tyler, Ali (or Alison), Gil and Lydia but the movie to me in general is primarily focused on Holly & Tyler.

So, basically the movie starts off with Tyler narrating about his life and blah blah blah *insert cliche teen boy shit in here* and how his new girlfriend has quote on quote ‘changed his life’. And briefly afterwards we’re taken to this cliche house party in the middle of damn nowhere where we are introduced to these privileged ass California teens. Then out of nowhere Tyler , our male protagonist, discovers his lovers (Ali’s) ‘vices’ (being the cliche popular party girl previously who insists she’ changed). He then talks to this misogynistic asshole Chandler - i mean Chase (i could not remember because the name is so overused) who speaks of Ali in a somewhat ‘disrespectful’ manner. The annoying thing about this is that the movie forces us and wants us to believe that this guy was important to Ali and is spilling about her old ways and is such a typical douche bag its kinda not believable. And ALSO this dude is all the way from San Fran, so accordingly to my research he would have to travel some good 383.2 miles just to see Ali and attend some party which he knows NOBODY there which is stupid and unrealistic. I just wanna say that ‘unrealism’ is to be expected in this movie - so be warned...

Ah, and then naturally in his typical douche bag token white guy ways, our boy Tyler gets off his tits ‘drunk’ just fir the purpose of him yelling at his girlfriend who declared his ‘soulmate’ 5 minutes ago! THIS MOVIE IS NOT CONSISTENT. Anyways, she then breaks up with him with no emotion whatsoever which instantly told me this movie had no hope for acting as i yawned. Prior to this we see him engage in a random and stupid conversation with Holly finally after a good 20 minutes of rambling. THEN he sees Holly and doesn't seem as drunk as he did 0.2 secs ago and gets in the car with this COMPLETE STRANGER and goes clubbing with her. Then we are ‘blessed’ with a cringey montage of he and her clubbing and taking what appears to be ecstasy. Then they continue to be unrealistic teens as they grind and make out for a solid 5 minutes on each other. This scene was especially painful to watch as Bella Thorne and Taylor John Smith had 0 chemistry but at least they tried. Then it cuts to the pair in bed after clearly having sex and just spends a good 15 minutes (it felt like the whole movie) of them both talking and bonding and in this HUGE MANSION which clearly isn’t Holly’s so doesn’t that tell you she’s a little PSYCHOTIC because she broke in for no damn reason?! Anyways, then Tyler and Holly fuck AGAIN and then he says he has to leave because ‘his parents’ (whom he said he only lived with his mom) would be worried.

So he leaves and doesn’t show any interest in his Ex-Girlfriend Ali, until she texts him on--screen asking if they can talk - ONLY THEN HE’S INTERESTED. Then they have a cliche moment where he betrays her an lies but she doesn’t know it - SHOCKER! cliche again, i know. So a little while later she moves to his school and unnaturally starts becoming close with Ali, Gil, Lydia - much to Tyler's dismay which she clearly does so she can get to him. Then they make out forcefully privately and he says she can’t do this and that he’s going to be ‘fucking sorry’ which was arguably the best line in the entire movie and the one line spoken with actual emotion so bravo Bella Thorne for being the only one who can semi-act.

Fast forward a couple more painful scenes and we find our selves seeing that Mr Dumb ass finally realized Holly is insane after she tells some lies that hurt his ego but (i agree with because he was so unlikable.) Also prior to this she tells him he used her, in which he of course denies, but to me was proven to be true as when they slept together they had a bond and he called it ‘special’ when he led her on to a false image which may have sparked her unhealthy desire for him in the first place. So yes, Tyler aka Mr ‘Such a good boyfriend’ did use Holly.

Also note that there is a super uncomfortable make-out scene between Holly (Bella Thorne) and Gil (Nash Grier) when she speaks about her and Tyler’s fling to Ali (anonymously of course) on the beach because that’s where all Cali Teens hang right?

Sooner or later Holly lies about being pregnant and talks about Tyler all the time and Ali never notices it being a little off because ,she too, has no brain just like everyone else except Lydia who is nearly killed so what does that tell you? Also near this moment we have, low and behold, the single handedly best scene of this god-awful movie, which is when the most likable character - Lydia suffers a seizure which is so dramatized and taken out of context considering the angles and close-up shots of her shaking her ass are not scary at all and are actually extremely hilarious, laughable and are simply comedic gold!

And then, just THEN Tyler realizes alongside a hospitalized Lydia, that this bitch, Holly is a FUCKING PSYCHO! I had to pause the damn movie to sigh in relief that this was finally noted. Then things get more ‘serious’ when Holly’’s baby-daddy, Tyler, shoves Holly who is allegedly pregnant which his child over and she bleeds and gets grazed, then she makes it her mission to tell Ali about them and she does.

Then our ‘beloved’ high-school couple (sorry Gabriela and Troy) break up at the damn beach AGAIN. Like seriously, could the director not have shot these scenes at different locations like we get it - they live in California and overly LOVE the beach, but showing something different would be a little refreshing, thanks. She says ‘she never wants to see him again’ boo-hoo crap and that’s the end of that.

BUT NOT BEFORE Holly ties fucking Alison upside down (like man that really took some effort getting up there) to her own ceiling at the mansion and then whilst Corrine, her stepmother (who doesn't do anything about her behavior despite being aware of it) tries to untie Ali but not before Holly (our favorite psychopath) strangulates her to death. This clearly showed Holly gave no fucks and made her more likable to me.

Then Tyler and Gil turn up and there’s a classic cliche showdown which is borderline ripped right off of Scream and Friday the 13th etc in which Gil is nearly shot (OMG NASH GRIER NEARLY DIED SO INTENSE bull-crap!) and Tyler is shot in the shoulder and Ali grabs a fire-poker and stabs Holly in the side causing her to fall inevitably in to the pool. But get this - she’s not dead! - (somehow she didn’t drown or bleed to death, that was a pretty painful stab btw) as Tyler pretends so badly to be dying as Ali and Gil pretend to care and attend to him whilst the police arrive. Then Holly is implied to become obsessed with the ambulance nurse as she somehow lives and looks untouched completely. REALISTIC Y’ALL!

Then yay! all their problems are solved as 3 of them party at Tyler’s little sisters party and then it ends. Classic cliche happy ending , worst 89 minutes of my life.

Some other things i’d like to point out is how this film is meant to be an ‘American Thriller’. Excuse me, but this wasn’t dark nor a thriller - it was more like a dramatized teen movie that had been done in Hollywood several times over the past 40 decades prior to this 2017 flick. And, with some more emotion, better acting, script and realism added in (and much more) this could have had the potential to be a good and somewhat decent Netflix movie! I think despite all those factors, the thing that let this movie down also was the stupid cringey-ass cuts in-between scenes where it was a overview of California (implying YET AGAIN that the director wants you to know that’s where they live for some unspecified reason) which had a form of EDM neo pop generic dubstep TRASH playing over it too.

So yeah, this took me a while to type, and now my fingers are numb! But, this was and hopefully not my last movie review! Now please don't watch this movie because if this review and its 4.6 IMBd score and it’s 26% score on rottentomatoes.com proves that you should STAY THE HELL AWAY from this movie.

The only somewhat likable charters were Holly (the fucking psycho) and Lydia - the one who actually had a brain! All the other were extremely boring, unlikable and mediocre.

REVIEW CONCLUDED.

Until Next Time my dudes,

sarcastic-saddo

#movie review #movie #movies #netflix #review #yougetme

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