I've started an Aunt Gladys crackfic purely for humor. It's modern AU. The plot summary is that Gladys lets you rent a bedroom in her house. Living with her is chaos all the time. Sorry if this is dumb, my 3am thoughts are unhinged. Enjoy ♡
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You've just ended a long work shift. It was a horrible day, and you can't wait to crawl into bed and stay there. You don't even care that it's still light outside, despite it being dinnertime. After you park your car in your driveway, you shut off the ignition and sit in silence. Your eyes scan the small, two-story house, and the sea of bright plants set in colorful pots along the lawn.
You remember the day you first arrived, gaping in horror at the sight of this place: a rich blue building, with the shutters and front door painted lilac. A rubber doormat in sage green was placed beneath the door, displaying the words please go away in cursive. The curtains that were drawn closed across the windows were the darkest shade of red you had ever seen. String lights in tangled strands of orange and white glowed behind the glass. You didn't understand the color scheme one bit. It was funny, the way this place you now call home once made you cringe, but now brings only comfort.
The sky is dark gray, the chill in the air hinting at rain. You figure you'd better go inside, for the silence consuming your empty vehicle was growing more deafening by the minute. Soon, you're shutting the front door behind you, sighing in annoyance. As you hang up your belongings in the foyer, you can feel Gladys' presence before she even enters the room. You compare it to putting your hand against the TV screen and having the static engulf your skin.
She appears in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a pink, floral mug of tea. You can barely see her eyebrows over the rims of her large glasses, but you can tell by the way her forehead wrinkles that she is raising them. "What is going on with you? Somebody's in a dreadful mood," she speculates.
"Nothing. It was a bad day. I'm going to bed," you huff. You're used to her eccentric personality by now, but you currently don't want to be around anyone. Not even her.
Gladys raises the palm of her free hand, as if you've just accused her of something. "Wow! I can feel the angst all the way from here. It's radiating from you like a little space heater.”
You can still see a faint line in the flesh of her hand, the healing cut from her most recent kitchen accident (that's what she tells you, anyway). You pay it no mind. "Gladys, please. Not now, alright?" You grumble.
Thunder cracks overhead, and rain begins to patter gently against the roof. You start to march past her, but before your foot even touches the stairs she's stopping you again."Woah, woah, woah, hang on. You cannot go to bed like that! That's a good way to wake up with a tummy ache, and I don't wanna hear you complaining about it in the morning," she quips. Her eyes light up, like she suddenly has an idea. "Oh, that's just it, I know exactly what you need! Come on," she beckons, disappearing into the kitchen.
You groan softly, not wanting to follow, but you do so anyway.
Gladys has set her mug on the countertop. She opens the sliding glass door and motions her hand toward the backyard. "Go on," she urges, clasping her hands in front of her.
"Gladys, it's literally raining," you remind her.
"Yes, and? What's a little water gonna do? You need to lighten up. Go do something frivolous, like dance in the rain," Gladys says. She bounces eagerly on her heels, as if this is the most exciting thing about her day.
"I'm not gonna dance in the rain. I'm not a child," You tell her.
"That can be established when you stop acting like one. Now go onnnn,” she sings. With her hands on your lower back, she pushes you out the door despite your protests. "You're gonna do great, sweetie, have fun out there!" She whips the door closed before you can retreat back inside.
The rain is starting to decorate your clothes in little, wet polka dots. Your skin is already damp. Folding your arms across your chest, you allow yourself to stand under the rain. You don't like the feeling of being in wet clothes, but at the same time, it gives you a wave of nostalgia. It reminds you of when you used to play in the rain as a kid.
Thunder booms over your head, snapping your mind back to the present time. A flood of water seems to break through the clouds above you, the rain starting to hammer down. It's pouring. You can hear it beating loudly against the side of the house and the windows. You gasp loudly, water running down your face. You are completely drenched. You move to open the sliding door, but it suddenly doesn't budge. On the other side of the glass, Gladys has her hand on the lock...
"Gladys, the door," you call.
She stares at you, her lips pulling into a closed-mouth smile, but it's stretched too far. It puts an icy feeling in your stomach, leaving you apprehensive. "Gladys... let me in," you shout over the rain. Wiping water from your eyes, you catch a blur of red hair moving to the counter. You finally see Gladys picking up her mug and bringing it back to the door. She takes a slow sip, having no urgency about the predicament she has put you in.
"Gladys! Open the door!" You plead, pulling at the handle. Your arm bounces, the door remaining shut. You knock on the glass, the rain quickly washing away the wet indents of your knuckles. She leaves you locked outside. You can't fucking believe her.
Suddenly, your feet move, and you sprint around the house to the front door. It's also locked, and your keys are in the foyer. You ring the doorbell several times, each press of the button growing more violent until you slap it with your palm. You're so angry that you bellow, a shout rooted deep in your core. You slam the side of your fist against the door with a loud thump, then return to the backyard. Tears fall down your cheeks, masked by the rain, and you sit in one of the patio chairs. You cross your arms, sulking. She's still standing there, watching you through the glass with her tea. You turn your back so you don't have to look at her.
Fuck this day. Fuck Gladys. Fuck the backyard. Fuck everything.
You close your eyes and accept your fate. After what seems like an eternity, but was probably only ten minutes, the rain stops assaulting your body. It's back to being a light patter, ending the cycle the same way it began. The sound of the back door sliding open catches your attention.
"What a nice little storm that was! Oh, we needed that. The air's been awfully dry lately. It's good for the plants," Gladys says casually from the kitchen. She must have finished her tea, because she no longer held her mug.
You can feel the rage starting to swell within you again. She locks you out of the house and the first thing she says isn't even an apology? Rising from your seat, you march into the house, your brow furrowed. You're surprised you don't have actual daggers shooting out of your eyes. "Gladys..." You growl. "What the fuck?!" You push your wet hair out of your face so you can properly glare at her.
Gladys is suddenly gripping your arms with her hands, lightly shaking you in time with her words. "Listen, I know you think you're upset with me, but you're really not. I'm not the one who gave you a bad day-”
You open your mouth to retort, but she continues before you can.
"-You don't remember how to live, and that's a really horrible thing. If you don't get out of your head once in a while your brain is gonna explode like confetti, and I really don't wanna clean that up. Find time to let all those bad feelings out, or I'm gonna have to make you, silly goose,” Gladys grins, and you aren't sure if you should take it as a threat or not. "I mean, you're feeling better, right? Right?" She nods, waiting for you to confirm that she's correct.
Harsh words are welling up in your throat, about to blow over like an overheated kettle. Except when you open your mouth, only a sigh comes out. She is right. "Yeah..." You feel bad for mentally cursing her out, because although the method was bizarre, it really did help.
Gladys squints at you, all too pleased. "Oh, good! See?" Her voice becomes a husky giggle. She suddenly grabs a fluffy towel from the counter and tosses it over your head. It's warm, which means she just took it out of the dryer for you. You move it off your face and wrap it around your shoulders.
"Now, you're gonna go upstairs and take a nice bubble bath, and when you're done, you can have some hot chocolate and tell me all about your terrible day," she decides.
You finally crack a small smile, saying, "You just want the tea from my job, don't you?"
Gladys' smile fades, and she eyes you blankly. "Why would I want tea from your job? I have plenty of it here. Tons of tea!”
"Huh? No, Gladys, it means... Never mind," you laugh, realizing that explaining today's slang to her is going to be an entire conversation in itself. "Hot chocolate sounds great."
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