#tea with gladys

[tallymali]

americans really did go the fuck off with a lot of their food like even something as simple as pb&j..they deserve their knobs gobbled for that

[agir1ukn0w]

gladys cancel all my appointments, I have a new hyperfixation

[julyzaa]

Hc: Marian and Ada totally know Oscar is gay, Agnes does too she just pretends she doesn't.

[bunnys-kisses]

deep touch

capt. john price

cw: smut & fluff, chronic pain, soft dom!price, comfort fic, husband!price, wife!reader, massages, price is a good man, side by side/spooning position, wife kink

bunny says: chronic pain nation rise!!! i've been battling some pretty bad pains in my legs, thank god that writing is a sedentary activity!

you knew you had chronic pain, the thing about it was that you could go days feeling decent but, out of nowhere it would all change and you'd be achy all over. with it largely concentrated in your legs.

the rain only made it worse, it was july in the sleepy seaside town you lived in with your husband and there were very few tourists due to the frequent rain. the rain also brought a new challenge, the sleepiness.

you wanted to be awake to spend as much time with your husband now that he was home from his most recent deployment. but at shreds of sunlight were cast between the gaps in rain clouds, you felt lethargic.

you stirred a little and rolled to your side to get your phone. the bed felt welcoming against the aches in your bones. the joints and the muscles wanted nothing else to do but lie there. but you knew that you couldn't be there all day.

you forced yourself up, and put on your slippers before you headed to the kitchen. before you left the bedroom, you put one of price's sweatshirts on yourself as a form of a comfort blanket.

you hobbled to the kitchen and got yourself a cup of ginger tea. it was a little hot for it, so you often let it sit until the cup grew cold. once it poured, you left it and went to go find your husband.

price looked from the morning news to you, he had a cup of coffee in hand which he quickly put down, "hey there, baby girl." he said, "someone's a little stiff this mornin'?"

you chuckled a little, "yeah, you know how it is. rains for three days and suddenly all my joints are mad at me. i thought after all this time, my body would get used to rainy england." you sat down on the couch next to your husband and he pulled you into his chest. you relaxed a little, feeling the soft strength of your husband's chest. even the old shirt he was wearing felt nice.

"well, i guess that means i have to take care of my wife today."

you sighed, "you're supposed to be relaxing, john. you were away for almost three months. let me spoil you."

he kissed the top of your head, "no need to, love. you let me take care of everything, you save your strength."

you sighed, "tomorrow, it'll be better. and then i can make those muffins for you that gladys across the road really liked. and i can also make dinner for you, and you can just sit on the couch with a beer and watch football."

he kissed your head once more to keep you down, "love. if it gets better and you better not lie to me about the pain. i'm going to be home for six months, you have more than enough time to make me every recipe from that little cook book of yours."

"i just wanna make being home feel special." you huffed.

he chuckled, "don't worry, love. just bein' able to be here with you is more than enough to make it special. to have a home."

he just held you for a while, letting you be close to him. the pain was a discomfort that lingered in your body. you wish you could like detach parts of your body and like run them through the wash so they'd stop hurting.

"i hate the pain."

"and i hate seein' ya in pain, love. now why don't i get you some breakfast."

you sighed, "can you rub my legs first, you always know how to help it." your voice sounded so small.

"of course." he said, "i'd love nothing more." he gave you that sweet smile of his as he carefully moved you so he could put your legs on his lap. you noticed that he checked for anything swollen or discoloration. he was too good at this sometimes.

he wanted to make sure his woman was in tip-top shape. he then started to gently rub at your calves. his strong fingers worked into the muscles of your legs. you let out a whimpering noise every time he hit just the right spot. he would stop and you'd give him a thumbs up to assure him that you were a-okay.

"it just feels good." you said as he moved up into your thighs. the noises were almost erotic if it weren't for the pain you were in. that was one thing about dating an army man, was that you would never have to pay for a massage ever again!

"good girl." he praised, "you are always so strong. i'm so proud of you."

he worked the limbs and you were thankful for it. by the time he was finished, you were practically asleep on the couch. price chuckled and grabbed the throw blanket

it wasn't easy, but love wasn't meant to be the easiest thing in the world. and price was going nowhere.

-

the next morning, you were feeling better. and when you turned over, you were greeted to the sight of your husband laid out beside you. he had his glasses on and his phone too close to his face.

you shifted closer to him and kissed him on the cheek, "good morning."

he looked over, he looked like such an old man with those glasses on. he put his phone down and took them off to get closer to you. he wrapped his strong arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you towards him so he could kiss you, "there's the most beautiful woman in the world."

"oh shush."

"how ya feelin'?" he asked.

you looked up at him, "can i be honest?" you felt heat in your cheeks.

price held your face and replied, "i wouldn't want anythin' else." then smiled at you. he was such a comforting presence in your life. your husband was a good few years older than you, but he was as gentle as a lamb with you.

"i'm.. i'm in less pain. the knees are still a little bothersome. but i am actually really horny." you wanted to look away but price had his grasp on you.

"oh really?" he asked, "my little wife is all turned on?"

you replied, "i am. i always get turned on after you dote on me all day. it's like my brain is making up for the hurt it put me through by giving me those feel good chemicals." you laughed a little.

"well, then." he said as he pulled away a little to take off his white t-shirt. you got a good look at his bare toned, hairy chest. he said, "get on your other side, facing away from me. then you don't have to be on your knees."

you face went hotter as you said, "i love you so much."

he chuckled as he pushed the blankets off of the both of you, "my love, i'm never gonna deny my wife what she needs. if that's massages or a good fuckin' then i'm there. because that's what a husband does."

you gave him a quick kiss before you turned over and got your bottom half naked. you felt him get behind you, his cock was stiffening at the feeling of your ass.

his big hands took a hold of you and lifted your right leg so he could have access to your pussy. you could feel his hairy chest through the fabric of your t-shirt.

it was like a comofrting hug, a peaceful feeling of you and your husband making love. you relaxed against the bed and held onto the pillow under your head.

"does it hurt?" he asked softly.

"no, no. none of the pain was in my hips."

he kissed you neck tenderly, "good, good. tell me if it started hurting. i need you to communicate with me."

your other hand held his arm that was draped over your waist. slowly he sank his cock into you, you felt so protected and the pain was minimal. price was such a giving lover, that was the kind of man he was. he wanted to make sure that you felt loved even when he was away.

he rested his chin on your shoulder as bother arms got around you and he started to softly hump against you. his cock felt snug in your cunt. his thrusts were light and quick, but it still built pleasure in both of you.

you held on tightly to your husband as he rutted against you. you could feel the excitement in your chest as your husband made love to you.

"this is how a husband should treat his wife. treat her like the perfect woman she is." he kissed the shell of your ear, "you're perfect. i lucked out, i don't know what god put you in my arms but i hope he is being worshiped till the end of time." he chuckled as he gave you another series of kisses up against the nape of your neck.

"please, john." you moaned, "you're making me hot all over."

he replied softly, "good, i love when you're all hot in the face." his pace was a bit faster now. the pleasure coursed through his veins at the feeling of his beautiful wife's sweet pussy.

the sex was tender. it was soft. it felt good for your aching body and it felt amazing to be loved so tenderly by your husband. you moaned softly against the pillow.

price pressed his forehead against your back as he thrusted into you. his grip on you was firm but light. you weren't getting out of his grasp. he panted against your heated skin.

"i'm close, honey." you whimpered.

he nodded, "me too, love." he picked up the pace a little further, keeping an ear out for your noises so he could make sure he wasn't hurting you.

with a few more thrusts of his hips, you both came at the same time. your heightened sounds paired with the low groan your husband made as the two of you finished.

"my woman." he said as he kissed the center of his back.

he pulled out, but his softening cock rested against your ass as you got comfortable in his burly arms. it was such a protective force all that muscle and fuzz up against your back.

"that's my girl." he mumbled closely into your ear. his facial hair brushed against it.

"i love you, john."

"and i love you, even with all your aches and pains. you know i'm no spring chicken either." he chuckled softly as he laid there close to you, feeling your heated body next to him.

"neither of us are." you chuckled as you turned over a little to kiss him on the lips. <3

[solarmorrigan]

Open Doors, part 2

Part 1 | Ao3

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Abandonment Issues, Eddie Munson Has Control Issues, it's okay though they love each other and they'll work on it, Past Domestic Violence, (not between any of the main characters; does not go into detail), Arguing, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia, Happy Endings Only I promise

-

The walls in the building are hardly paper-thin, but they aren’t that thick, either. Gladys registers, if distantly, when the sound of raised voices travels from one of the other apartments down the hall. The sound of a door slamming not long after that is a bit louder.

She’s tempted to get up and see who it is that’s apparently storming out—just a quick peek—but she’s really hit a stride in her knitting and can’t be bothered to get up.

Of course, she has no choice when her doorbell rings about half an hour later.

Whoever she’d expected to find on the other side, it hadn’t been Steve – at least, she hadn’t been expecting Steve with his shoulders slumped and his eyes a bit red, trying to smile and give her a little wave like everything is completely normal.

“Hey, Gladys. Are you, um– busy?”

“Just knitting,” Gladys answers, peering at him carefully through her thick glasses. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, really, I just– y’know, just thought I’d come say ‘hi’.” Steve shrugs; his voice is convincing, but his posture tells another story, his body holding itself tense and curled-in, like it’s trying to protect him.

Gladys steps aside. “Come on in.”

Steve lets out a little sigh, something almost relieved in it as he crosses the threshold.

“Something to drink?” Gladys asks as she shuts the door behind him.

“Sure, if you’re having something,” Steve says.

Gladys glances at the clock. It’s after eight, and Steve’s never said no to an evening cup of coffee, but something tells her he doesn’t need any caffeine right now. “I’ll make us some tea,” she decides.

They trade pleasantries while the water boils and the tea steeps, but once they’re both seated at her little kitchen table, mugs in hand, Gladys sees no reason in beating around the bush.

“Was that you boys yelling?” she asks.

Steve, his posture still tense, somehow goes even stiffer in his chair. “You heard that?”

“Nothing clearly, but the walls aren’t that thick.” Gladys pauses, considering. “Heard the door slam, too.”

Pursing his lips, Steve nods. “Yeah, we, uh… got into it a little, I guess,” he says quietly, eyes trained on the table.

“Over what?”

Steve sighs, letting his head drop for a moment as he rubs at the back of his neck. “Stupid stuff,” he says. “I think it started over whose turn it was to do the dishes?”

Gladys nods, taking a quiet sip of her tea and encouraging him to go on.

“It’s just– Eddie hasn’t been letting me do them,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know, that’s not the complaint I expected,” Gladys raises a brow. “Most people are happy when someone does the dishes for them.”

“I mean– yeah, I was kind of enjoying it at first, but it’s been over a week and it’s just getting annoying. And he doesn’t do them right! He puts things in the dishwasher that don’t belong in the dishwasher!” Steve insists. “Which… I may have shouted at him about. And then he told me that I’m too fussy. I’m not goddamn fussy.”

He’s a little fussy, but Gladys keeps that thought to herself for the moment.

“He gets into these moods where he won’t let me do anything. Like, he just kind of takes over, decides for me what I’m capable of doing.” Steve reaches out and clutches his mug, though he makes no move to drink from it. “Like I don’t know my own body’s limitations, or like we don’t both know what my migraine triggers are. Doing chores around the house isn’t one of them.”

Ah. So that’s what this is all about.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Gladys had found Eddie caring for Steve and his migraine; he’d said that day it had been a bad one, and he hadn’t been kidding. Steve had been lain up another two days after that, and even then, when Gladys had next seen him, he’d still looked a bit pale. Eddie himself had looked drawn and tired, hovering much closer to Steve than he usually did outside the apartment.

“You scared him, I think, last week,” Gladys says. “He worries about you.”

“What, like I don’t worry about him?” Steve snaps. “He– There was… a few years ago, there was sort of a freak earthquake in our town. And Eddie, he– he was hurt pretty badly.”

Gladys has seen hints of scars on Eddie’s sides and arms when he’s been puttering around his own home in loose, loungey clothes, just the same as she can plainly see the faded scar wrapped around Steve’s neck, and some on the backs of his arms when he wears short sleeves. The more she gets to know her boys, the more she wonders about them – worries about them. But she supposes now isn’t the time to press.

“He healed up really well, like, all things considered. I made sure he went to all his physical therapy appointments and everything, but I know there are days when he still feels it, and he just pushes through, and he never gets enough sleep, and he just–” Steve leaves off with a harsh sigh. “I know he’s trying to help, but he just stresses me out every time he does this.”

He takes a sullen sip of his tea, and Gladys nods.

“You know, when Avery and I got married, my mother told me that when we fought, we should never go to bed angry–”

Steve’s eyes snap back to Gladys, startled and wide. “Eddie and I aren’t married–”

“–but that’s just bunk.” Gladys catches herself, shaking her head. “Both bits. The bit about not going to bed angry and the bit about you and Eddie not being married. I’m sure you would be, if you could be.”

Letting out the most forced laugh Gladys has ever heard, Steve shakes his head. “Why would we be married? I mean we’re both– and even if that was possible, Eddie is just my roommate. I mean– he’s one of my best friends, obviously, but we’re not–”

“Steve,” Gladys cuts in dryly, “how dumb do you think I am?”

Steve grimaces. “I don’t think you’re dumb,” he mutters.

Taking in the way his shoulders are drawn up around his ears, the way he’s let go of his mug and has pushed back just a bit from the table, like he’s preparing to get up and leave—to run from her, of all people—Gladys places a gentle hand on his arm before he can draw away entirely.

“It’s okay, dear,” she tells him. “You’re safe with me.”

“I– You don’t… care?” Steve asks carefully.

“Why should I care? Are you two hurting anyone?”

“Of course not.” Steve shakes his head, frowning. “But a lot of people have shitty stuff to say about– people like us. How we’re disgusting, or how we should be illegal, or– stuff like that.”

Gladys snorts. “A lot of people are ridiculous.”

Steve shrugs, sitting back in his chair. “At this point, I just… don’t assume anyone is on our side. And I know that sounds awful, but it’s kept us safe.”

Gladys blows out a long sigh and takes a deep pull from her mug. She doesn’t drink anymore, but some conversations still feel like they should be had over glasses of liquor; she supposes the tea will have to do.

“You know, Avery and I grew up together. We lived down the street from each other, but we spent more time at my house than at his. He didn’t like being at home. His mother was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet – kind and soft-spoken and gentle. But if she was the sweetest, then his father was the meanest.” Gladys pauses, lost for a moment in her thoughts. “He hit her. He screamed at her, belittled her. He took that good, kind woman and ground her down and used her up until there was nothing left, and no one did a god damned thing. I remember being so baffled as a child, why everyone just let it happen. I still don’t understand.

“That should have disgusted people. That should have been illegal,” Gladys says sharply, looking back up at Steve. “There are men out there hitting their wives, women screaming at their husbands, but the relationships everyone feels the need to stop are the ones with two men kissing each other? That’s the great evil?”

Steve gives her a tiny, sardonic smile. “Sometimes it’s the ones with two women.”

“Oh, of course, how could I overlook that?” Gladys rolls her eyes. “People need to gain some perspective. You and Eddie love each other, that much is clear. You’re good to each other. Why should I care about anything else?”

Slowly, Steve shakes his head. “I guess you shouldn’t.”

“You guess right,” Gladys says, nodding. “Now, about my mother’s advice.”

“My mom used to say that, too. About not going to bed angry,” Steve says. “Used to wonder how she got any sleep, then, considering how much time she spent being mad at my dad.”

Gladys hums. “Well, like I said: bunk. Not every little fight can be resolved before bedtime. Sometimes you need to sleep on it. Sometimes you need time to cool off. Sometimes you need a little space. The important part is that you’ll both be there in the morning,” she says. “The important part is that you don’t give up.”

Steve only seems to wilt at that, staring into his mug. “I’m not sure Eddie will be there in the morning. He left. I ended up coming over here because the apartment just didn’t feel right without him there.”

“I can sympathize,” Gladys says, and Steve winces.

“Sorry,” he says, glancing up. “This must seem kinda petty to you.”

“I said I understand.” Gladys reaches out and grips Steve’s wrist, giving it an affectionate little shake. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

Steve manages a twitch of a smile, but it falls quickly. “I just… What if I managed to chase him away? I’m really not sure what I’d do if he didn’t want to come back.”

“Well that’s silly,” Gladys declares. “Steve, you couldn’t chase that man away if you tried. He looks at you like you hung the stars. You’re the sun he orbits around.”

This time, Steve’s smile lasts more than a moment, small as it is. “You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Good, then maybe you’ll listen to me. Mark my words, he’ll be back,” Gladys says.

Steve nods; he still looks uncertain, but Gladys figures she’s sure enough for the both of them. She’s seen the way they look at each other, the way the act around each other, now that she knows what to look for. They’re more than just smitten; there’s a sort of baked-in trust and understanding there that doesn’t come easily, and she doubts if it will be shaken by a single shouting match.

All the same, she lets Steve change the subject after that, following along as he relays some gossip about some of his classmates, and they keep talking until some time later, when Gladys’ doorbell rings for a second time that evening.

She and Steve exchange confused glances before Gladys gets up and moves to the hallway to answer the door. And there, looking just as worn and worried as Steve, is Eddie.

“Hey, Gladys,” he greets, lacking his usual charming grin. “I just wanted to ask if Steve had been by here at all? He wasn’t at the apartment and– uh…”

He trails off, his gaze snapping to the hallway behind Gladys, and she doesn’t have to turn around to know that Steve is standing there.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurts. “For yelling. And for leaving. And for other stuff. But especially for leaving. I’m really, really sorry about that.”

Gladys shuffles a bit to the side, since she’s apparently been forgotten, anyway.

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, too. For yelling, and for other stuff that we should probably talk about.”

Eddie nods, biting down on the tiny, hopeful smile that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees quickly. “Let’s go home.”

Eddie’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out, but Steve goes to him anyway. Before he’s out the door, however, he pivots and turns to Gladys, wrapping her up in a quick hug.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Any time, dear,” Gladys says, patting him on the back before he releases her. “I’ll still expect you both on Sunday.”

The boys exchange a quick glance.

“We’ll be here,” Steve says, and Eddie nods along.

“Neither wild horses nor our own stupidity could keep us away,” Eddie declares, and Steve snorts.

They walk close together as they head back to their own apartment, their knuckles occasionally bumping between them. Gladys hovers by the door just long enough to hear Steve as he tells Eddie, “So she knows everything.”

“I knew it,” Eddie hisses.

Gladys shuts her door with a laugh.

[morganwrites12672]

1998 - Sixteen Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Gladys helps you sort through your feelings (and she meddles a bit). After that, Dean decides to stop by for a visit.

Word Count: 3.0k

Rating: PG-14

A/N: I really hope you guys are enjoying this series! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 (there's the link to the master list). But, this can be read as a stand alone.

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South Dakota was miserable during the summer. September seemed to be the hottest month, even if it was supposed to have started cooling down by now.

Sitting on Gladys's porch, a glass of sweet tea in hand, the two gossiped. Gladys seemed to know everything about everyone despite living further away. Gladys owned one of the few properties in this part of town. Everyone had many acres, and avoided each other.

Gladys had begun babysitting Bobby's daughter whenever the girl had been a mere baby. It hadn't taken the older woman long to figure out what Bobby's real job was. Surprisingly, she hadn't been that shocked. There had always been something off about Bobby Singer.

The older woman took another drink of her sweet tea before looking over at the girl sitting on the porch swing. It slowly rocked back and forth. She had noticed how the girls gaze drifted to the apple orchards.

She enjoyed watching the branches sway in the light breeze. She felt Gladys's eyes on her and turned her head.

"There's something on your mind sweetheart," Gladys said, she could tell exactly what it was too. Even if the younger girl didn't even know what it was she felt.

She shrugged, "It's about Dean."

"I can tell. What about him?" Gladys asked with a small smile. She could read the Singer girl like a damn book. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve.

"I don't even know!" She exclaimed, leaning back on the swing. She set her iced tea down. "He's making me nervous and it's really weird," She mumbled, a light blush coating her cheeks.

Gladys chuckled, "Oh, honey. That's called a crush."

Her cheeks turned scarlet. She quickly avoided Gladys's gaze. "I don't like Dean!" She insists, crossing her legs. Her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn't like Dean.

"Mmmhhh. Sure you don't," Gladys replied with a roll of her eyes.

She sighed, looking out to the orchard again. The apples were all red and crisp. Gladys had mentioned going out to pick some to make a pie soon. She had offered to help the older woman. It's not like she had anything better to do.

It felt like her father kept her under lock and key. He refuses to let her go on any hunts with him. He's taken her a handful of times, but she always gets forced to stay in the motel room. The one time she snuck out to help, she was grounded. Now she wasn't even allowed to stay at the motel rooms!

It wasn't like she could go into town to make friends like a normal kid. Her family was considered the towns outcasts. People gave her weird looks of she ventured into town. Eventually, she learned to keep her head down.

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Her father had been out of town for a couple of days. He was working a case on the other side of the state, down in Edgemont. So, she was left to answer the phones and help any hunters looking for lore.

She was sitting in her father's office, reading through book after book. The phones had been silent for a while. She was about to go see Gladys whenever the regular phone started ringing. She frowned as she walked across the room to the landline.

She picked up the phone and put it to her ear, "Singer residence. Who's calling?"

"You weren't answering your cell," said a deep voice.

A small smile formed on her face. She would recognize that voice anywhere. It has been a few weeks since the last time she had seen Dean. Both of them had been busy.

"It's up in my room. I've been busy in dads office," She replied. She had noticed the hunt of concern in his voice. It made her stomach flutter. Maybe Gladys had been right.

"I'm a few hours away from your house. We were passing through Edgemont and found your dad," Dean explained. "My dad's staying to help him wrap up the case. And, uh, Sammy wants to help too."

Dean would be coming to see her. Alone.

The thought made a light blush creep up on her neck and cheeks. She knew she was being a bit delusional though. There was no way in hell that Dean liked her back. She probably wasn't even his type.

He was older and more attractive. He might only be two years older but right now it felt like twenty years. Anxiety curled up in her gut. She wanted him to like her, even if that was unreasonable.

"You still there?" Dean asked her. She had been silent ever since he had told her that he was on his way.

"Uh, yeah! S-sorry," She replied quickly. "I guess I'll see you in a few hours." And with that, she slammed the phone back down on the receiver. She wiped her now sweaty palms on her jean shorts.

Could she have been anymore awkward?

She kept herself buried in books for the next few hours. If anything could ease her anxiety then more books could. It was comforting to read them. They all reminded her of her childhood. She thought back to whenever she had thought that the books were only stories.

A small part of her was thankful that her father had lied. Even if she had isolated and alone, she had gotten to be a kid. She hadn't grown up knowing that the monster under her bed was real.

As she was grabbing a new lore book from one of the piles next to the staircase, she heard a cars engine. She placed the book back in the pile before running to the window. A small formed on her face as she saw the Impala.

Dean had finally arrived. Every second that she had spent waiting on him had quite literally felt like an eternity. It wasn't often that she was able to have a friend. She told herself that's why she's excited to see Dean. She ignored Gladys's words from earlier.

She didn't have a crush on Dean. No, that was ridiculous. She wasn't someone Dean would choose. He probably had his pick of any girl he wanted. Why would he settle for her? She was weird as hell.

The second Dean knocked on the door she practically threw the door open. It had been a few weeks since the last time they had seen each other. She stepped back from the door so that Dean could step inside.

"How was the drive?" She asked, there wasn't anything better for her to say. Her mind has practically gone blank at this point.

Dean stepped into the house before shutting the front door behind him. He looked as handsome as ever. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach.

"It was fine," Dean replied casually. "Your dad still won't let you hunt with him?" He asked with an amused smirk.

He thought that part was ridiculous. He had seen her with a shotgun. She was a damn good shot. Bobby keeping her on lock down made no sense. His own father had let him help with hunting as soon as he was old enough to shoot straight.

"Still grounded," She replied sourly.

"You'll be eighteen before you know it," Dean pointed out.

Even though he had already turned eighteen he still followed John around. He probably would until Sam was old enough to go with him. He wouldn't leave his brother with his father. He refused. Sam needed him. He had barely been willing to leave his brother with their father to visit her. But, he had really wanted to see her. Alone.

She sighed. Only two more years.

The pair made small talk for a while. Dean told her about the recent hunts he had went on with his father and Sam. She told Dean about possible weaknesses for some monsters she had read about. He agreed to try a few, if he found a way to do it safely. John would be pissed if he got hurt doing something stupid.

After an hour, the landline began to ring. She frowned before walking over to answer it. It would either be her father or Gladys. She hoped it was her father. He always let too much time go inbetween phone calls. She knew how dangerous his job was. Sometimes it was nice to know that he was okay with more than a quick text or email.

She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. Before she had a chance to greet the caller, a familiar voice began speaking. Well, more of demanding.

"I saw that damn car go down the street whenever I was checking my mail," Gladys said quickly. "If you and that boy come pick some apples, I'll bake a pie."

Dean gave her a curios look, unable to hear the voice on the other end of the phone. He wondered if it was either John or Bobby. Maybe even Sam. He doubted his dad would bother to call unless the older man needed something.

"Sure thing Gladys," She said into the phone with a small smile. Apple picking was something she enjoyed. Growing up Gladys would send her into the orchard with a little wicker basket, and a promise of a fresh apple pie.

She said her goodbyes to the older woman before hanging up. Glancing out the window, she noticed that it was almost sunset. It should have cooled down some since she had been over at Gladys's.

"Um, that was the neighbor. Gladys," She began. "She asked if we could go pick some apples at her orchard. She said she'd make a pie if we did."

"Pie?" Dean replied with a smile. He would do anything for a good slice of pie. The thought of a slice of homemade pie made his mouth water.

She let out a small laugh at Dean's reaction. She had known he would agree. Dean had always loved pie. It hadn't taken her long to figure that one out.

Dean grabbed the keys to Baby out of his pocket and began walking towards the door. She hurried to grab her cellphone off the counter before running out the door after him.

"Can I drive?" She asked, almost teasingly.

"Over my dead body," Was Dean's quick reply as he opened the driver's side door.

She had expected that. Dean was very overprotective of the Impala. It had been worth a shot though. She had mainly done it just to mess with him. Plus, it would have been cool to drive the car. She had just gotten her license, she'd only driven on her own a handful of times.

It was safe to say that she wasn't the world's greatest driver.

She hurried to open the passenger door before climbing in. She then carefully shut the door. Dean started the car and began driving down the road. She leaned back in her seat. It was peaceful. The soft hum of Metallica was the only noise in the vehicle. Until she spoke.

"It's about two and a half miles down the street. You'll see her driveway," She said to Dean so that he would know where he was driving.

Dean nodded, but didn't give a verbal reply. Driving was the most relaxed she had ever seen Dean. It was definitely something she noticed.

After a couple of minutes, Gladys's driveway came into view. An old red mailbox made it stick out. Well, that and the collection of gnomes surrounding the mailbox.

It wasn't long before the Impala was parked a few feet away from the house. Gladys was waiting at the foot of the porch, an old wicker basket in her hands.

She opened the door before practically jumping out of the car. She walked over the to Gladys and grabbed the basket with a smile. Gladys gave a mischievous smirk before looking between Dean and her. Gladys raised an eyebrow.

"You must be Dean," The older woman said before shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Dean looked almost nervous under Gladys's gaze. He felt like every inch of his skin was being out under a microscope.

The older woman finally gave him an approving smile. "You two have fun in the orchard."

She began walking towards the apple trees. After a few yards, she felt Dean's presence. Looking over her shoulder she noticed that he was practically walking at her side.

The apple trees were all beginning to flourish. Juicy red apples weighed down the branches. But, she kept walking further into the orchard. The best apple trees were further out. Well, and her favorite one was further out.

It was the tree that she used to sit under and read sometimes. She had spent quite a bit of time out in the orchards growing up, and still did. She remembered whenever she was young and still clueless. Before a weight was placed on her shoulders.

She now knew what she would do whenever she grew up. It felt like she had no other option. She wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that people were being killed by super creatures. People she could save.

"What are you looking for?" Dean's voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned around a little bit so that she could face him.

"The best tree," She replied without missing a beat.

Dean let out a sigh but kept walking.

The air was much cooler than it had been whenever she had sat on Gladys's porch, drinking sweet tea. It was nice to have someone like Gladys to span with. The older woman have good advice.

A tree that was larger than the rest came into view. The apples on it's branches were a deep shade of red. They all looked crisp and juicy. She stopped walking a few feet from it and set the wicker basket down.

"This one."

She walks over to one of the low hanging branches and picked a bright red apple. She held it up, showing it off to Dean. He chuckled at the way she beamed. She was proud of the perfect apple she had picked.

"You're kind of cute right now," Dean said as he picked an apple before placing it in the basket. Realizing what he said, his nerves spiked.

She had a similar reaction. Her cheeks looked about as red as one of the apples now sitting in the basket. She stuttered for a reply and ultimately gave up. Butterflies weren't fluttering in her stomach, no. They felt like a swarm right now.

Dean looked at her with his signature smirk upon seeing her reaction. Oh.

She quickly went back to picking apples. Dean was too nervous to say anything about her reaction, or his admission. He had thought she was cute for a while. How could he not?

Sam had often pointed out how Dean seemed to stare at her. He couldn't help it. She was fucking perfect, and clueless about it. He had wanted her for a while. However, she was Bobby's daughter. The older man would probably shoot Dean for even thinking about his daughter.

The two spent a while in the orchard, picking apples in a comfortable silence.

As she was turning around to place another apple in the now almost full basket, she bumped into Dean. She would have fell if he hadn't wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.

Their faces were mere inches apart. She stared at him with wide eyes and crimson cheeks. Neither one of them moved. They were stuck in this moment.

Until, Dean leaned in closer. His lips were hovering, barely even an inch away from hers. He couldn't keep his eyes off her lips. He brushed a piece of hair out of her face.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly.

Instead of replying, she pressed her lips to his. At least her first kiss would be nice. She wrapped her arms around Dean's neck and let her fingers gently tug on the hair at the nape of his neck.

Dean groaned into this kiss, his lips pulling away from hers for a second. He looked down at her. He admired her pink cheeks and wide eyes. It was obvious by her nerves that she hadn't done that before.

He knew a bit about her lack of a social life. He had overheard Bobby talking to his dad about it. The older man has been concerned about his daughters refusal to try and make friends. Dean thought that there was more to the story.

She pulled Dean closer again, kissing him. Their lips moved together in tandem. Dean pressed her against the apple tree behind them. As the kiss broke, she leaned her head back.

Dean's lips softly kissed her neck. He was careful not to leave any marks. Bobby would kill him if he came home and saw a hockey on her neck. Dean would be the obvious culprit, and a dead man walking.

His eyes did linger on the soft curves of her breasts. He was only able to see a little bit with her shirt on. He debated asking to take it off, but decided that that would be something he could save for later. Maybe for whenever he wasn't kissing her in the middle of an apple orchard.

She felt Dean's lips leave her skin. She looked back at him and his hand went to her hair as he kissed her again. She smiled into the kiss.

After a minute, she pulled away. "We should probably get the apples to Gladys. . ." She said. The older woman would know what had happened. It was obvious. Her hair was now a mess and so was Dean's. Not to mention how both of their cheeks were flushed.

Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, yeah. We probably should." He leaned forward quickly and left a quick kiss on her lips before jogging towards the house.

She mumbled a curse before grabbing the basket of apples and running off after him.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Leave a reblog or comment if you enjoyed it. And lastly, thank you to @scott-is-now-online for helping me with some of the dialogue.

Taglist: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @lmhf1 @espressovz @illicithallways @tranquilitybasegrunge

Join the Tag List: Tag List 

[bloogers-boogers]

More Marriage au ~

Adam was dragged to a small office for more privacy. He was never the problem?, what was this bitch talking about??

Anyways he was being questioned in almost everything that happened, felt and did while freshly married to Lucifer, it got to the point where it went too deep, and thats when it hit to his first marriage.

"So in the Bible it states you were married two times, is that true?"

"No. It only states when I was married to my awesome smocking hot ex wife: Eve~ and us being created."

"So that's a lie?"

"Not entirely, they just covered up the small mistakes, glossing the story up a bit."

"Which was?"

"Lilith. That unfaithful bitch. They covered her entire existence. Everything related to Lucifer, his rebellion, they didn't even stated his real name in the bible, cause he wasn't "worthy" of being recognized as his angel self. I personally think it would've been a lot more harsher if they kept his old name instead of Lucifer but whatever I guess. Then somehow those nosy ass theorists from the afertmath of Noah's shit load started looking into it too much and found actually more dirt in the hole, that revealed more to our creation. And that's how we got many split versions of it in different scriptures."

"What's his real name?"

"We're not allowed to say it. It's an angel thing."

"Prehistoric heaven stuff huh. But you're no longer a angel, your highness.."

"Fuck you. I was originally a angel before I was murdered totally unjustified btw. How does any of this information does anything in fixing my marriage?!"

The counselor scoffed, but kept her own opinion on that matter (exterminations) to herself. She's a marriage counselor not a therapist, and she wasn't getting paid enough anyways, "you were human. Originally human. Not an angel."

Now it was Adam's turn to scoff offended, but said nothing. He hated to see that side of him after his death on earth. It only brought bad memories, linked to only negative feelings, sorrow and thoughts.

"Tell me more about your marriage with Lilith."

"Pssch what's there to say? Where do I even start? What exactly do you want to know. I can go all into detail about how shit she was as my wife."

"Go on. Tell me everything you want to share, I'm here until 8 and your paying so.."

"More like aPplE hUbBy is paying for everything but whatever, took his card and shit HAHAHAHA! HAAAA," Adam snicker for himself, wiping a tear; thinking he was being funny. But he wasn't. At least for anyone else in the room which was just Gladis (counselor's name) and the only response she did was write a note to that comment.

Note one:

'Apple hubby. A subconscious, possible meaningful name for his spouse. If it referring to events of the bible, may mean about the whole apple incident (weak spot?) or it could be related to King Morningstar's obsession with apples (concerning). Or both.'

"Firstly she cheated on me. Obviously. That's the whole tea, bitch. Secondly she didn't agreed on anything I did, suggest or thought. It's like she wanted to be against everything I believed in. Nothing I did to impress her sastified her. She made ME question my entire faith and existence!" The more Adam spoke the more his pupils shrank by the dark memories of his past.

Note two:

'First wife trauma.'

"Then Lucifer shows up and POOF! Now everything that twink ass looking angel did was 'amazing' and worth looking forward to. He only sang and dance with her, ONCE, and it was like, her whole world turned around.. facing away from me..."

"And did Lucifer have any connections with you at the time? Did he also approach you when he firstly approached Lilith? Did you two spend time together? Talk? Bond?"

"More like it was all a whole distraction for their affair to continue."

"So you two did have a relationship."

"It's complicated."

"Why was it complicated, Adam?"

Adam's face soften in sadness. The question taking him off guard. He wasn't entirely sure?

What went wrong. What did he do, to not deserve Lucifer and Lilith's loyalty? Friendship, honesty.

Why wasn't he ever worth something. Enough.

"I have no fucking idea, man. I was literally perfect, still am and yet they wanted more than what they could bite and CHOKE on it in the progress."

"You're including Lilith in this. Why's that?"

"Because those two bastards were a team. The damage was done by both, all planned out and ready for what was gonna come. Got both me AND Eve. It's plural. I wish I could say I was alone in all this but I wasn't which is why it makes things hard to forgive and forget."

Note three:

'Gayass.'

"So how did you two end up falling in love?"

"We didn't, we kinda just poofed into existence already married and stuff."

"I meant you and King Lucifer."

"Just call him Lucifer he doesn't deserve that sorts of respect, he's an ass. A snake full of cock that doomed humanity."

"How did you and Lucifer get together," she asserted much more frustrated seeing Adam was getting nowhere to the subject in hand.

Adam then realized immediately everyone actually thought they were truly an item. Well this went awkward all of a sudden. So he decided to keep up the lie.

"I died."

"And—— what else?"

"Wdym 'what else'? Bitch wanted to complete the full set y'know. First dick, father of humanity, the only one that refused to join him. I'm basically his forbidden apple."

"And you just let him?"

"Sure. Why not? What's there to lose y'know. That's my jam. I just go with the flow. If it works for me then let it be damn and fuck me hard, I'm fucking doing it."

"Adam, are you taking this session seriously?"

Adam in response digs his pinky finger inside his ear with indifference, "Look. I just want answers, babe. I don't want spiritual solutions or tips. Tell me how to fix this."

She sighed, "when was the last time you two were intimate?"

"WOW, wow. WOAH. Where going to that territory now? Little tea maker right here but whateves."

So Adam went on full detail on one of his sex escapes back in heaven, plastering Lucifer’s name on whatever freak he has fucked in the last centuries. He was not in any way gonna go on about sex with Lucifer (they did it only two times; one outta traditional terms, the second we don’t talk about the fucking second.) that shit was private and humiliating to say the least.

He blushed. Just the thought of Lucifer’s claws running down his skin and his fangs digging through his neck and wings. It sent shivers down his spine. Made his throat go all dry and his limbs all numb.

Previous >> Next

[dresshistorynerd]

the gilded age costuming is interesting in that they deliberately take inspiration from later designs for bertha and gladys to emphasise the “nouveau riche” while the old money characters will be clothed in more historically accurate fashions (some are even direct replicas of paintings/extant garments)

I do understand the urge to do that, and I know it's approach with a lot of historical costuming, but personally I dislike that approach. I think it misunderstands the point of fashion in Victorian society. Today we think of the most fashionable people to be very forward thinking in their fashion and for formal clothing to be most fashionable. Red carpet is often treated as fashion event. However, this was not the case in Victorian society. Fashion was social decorum, it was a requirement to participate in high society. Or rather it was requirement to participate in society at all. Even workers adhered to the fashionable silhouette, while working. Here's for example factory workers from mid 1890s with perfectly fashionable silhouettes with the big sleeves and all.

I think it's quite backwards to think nouveau rich would be experimenting with futuristic fashion. It's unthinkable they wouldn't adhere to the fashionable silhouette for high society events especially. They were the ones trying to establish themselves as part of high society, so they would be the ones most religiously following the fashionable silhouettes and styles. This is why tea gowns were much more experimental, and why the counter cultural Aesthetic style, which rejected the Victorian silhouette, could first entered high society through tea gowns. Tea gowns were worn in more intimate society gatherings (afternoon tea with neighbors and friends), so there was more room to experiment with new counter cultural styles. Tea gowns in 1880s had many of the elements that would become fashionable in 1890s, looser fit in bodice, natural form bustle and even balloon sleeves. Some British middle class/upper middle class women would dress in Aesthetic dress during 1880s in public society events, but they were not part of the upper echelon of high societies and no one dressed that way in high society evening events. The old money rich people also had more room to experiment with more unconventional fashion than nouveau rich, since their position in the exclusive high society was so much more secure, even if they were not as respectable (and adhering to the fashion ideals was about respectability) as expected of high society, their connections and status protected them from consequences. Money was not enough to secure your status, you needed connections.

[pupsmailbox]

ROYALTY︰FANCY ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　adalinda.　adam.　adela.　adelaide.　adelio.　adrienne.　agnes.　aladdin.　alaric.　albert.　alexander.　alexandra.　alice.　alyssa.　amadeo.　amelia.　anastasia.　andrew.　anita.　anne.　anneliese.　ara.　archie.　aricia.　ariel.　armel.　astrid.　athena.　aurora.　aymeric.　balder.　baldr.　baldur.　bano.　basil.　beatrice.　belle.　blanche.　blanchesse.　blanchette.　bonnette.　bonnie.　bowesse.　bowette.　brendan.　briar.　brioc.　camilla.　carl.　caroline.　caspian.　catharina.　catherine.　cecilia.　chainesse.　chainette.　chainne.　charles.　charlotte.　chelidonis.　christian.　claude.　cleopatra.　corsette.　crosse.　crossette.　crownesse.　crownette.　cynfael.　damita.　damyanti.　darius.　delphine.　deoch.　diana.　duke.　duncan.　eadlin.　edward.　eleanor.　eleanora.　eleanore.　elisabeth.　eliza.　elizabeth.　elsa.　emmanuel.　erendira.　eric.　esperanza.　estelle.　eugene.　eugenie.　evelyn.　fang.　fangesse.　fangette.　farsiris.　felix.　frederick.　frederik.　frille.　frillesse.　frillette.　gabriel.　gearesse.　gearette.　george.　gladys.　gormlaith.　grace.　griffith.　haakon.　harry.　hector.　henrik.　henry.　ingrid.　isabella.　isadora.　izella.　james.　jasmine.　joachim.　josephine.　julia.　julien.　kiana.　kingsley.　lacesse.　lacette.　lacey.　laurent.　leonore.　lilibet.　louis.　louise.　lucas.　lucienne.　mabel.　madeleine.　mael.　maelie.　maelle.　maelys.　magnus.　mailys.　margaret.　maria.　marie.　marina.　martha.　michael.　nicolas.　nikolai.　nina.　noire.　noiresse.　noirette.　orla.　oscar.　palesse.　palette.　pari.　paris.　pearlesse.　pearlette.　philip.　primrose.　prince.　princer.　princessa.　princesse.　princette.　princey.　princie.　prinze.　prinzess.　prinzessa.　prynce.　pryncess.　quille.　reagan.　regina.　regulus.　ribbonesse.　ribbonette.　ribbonne.　richard.　robin.　rognvaldr.　rosalina.　rose.　rosette.　rufflesse.　rufflette.　sabrina.　sadie.　saina.　sara.　sarah.　sarai.　sebastian.　sharai.　sofia.　sophie.　soraya.　steven.　sverre.　tzeitel.　vampesse.　vampette.　vampie.　victoria.　victorianne.　vincent.　watchesse.　watchette.　william.　yseult.　zadie.

PRONOUNS ⌇　apple/apple.　blu/blush.　bonnet/bonnet.　bow/bow.　chain/chain.　che/cher.　corset/corset.　count/count.　cro/crown.　cro/own.　cross/crosses.　crown/crown.　crown/crowned.　crowned/prince.　crowned/princess.　dear/dear.　dress/dress.　dress/dresse.　elegant/elegant.　eth/ethel.　fluff/fluff.　frill/frill.　frill/frilly,　frill/frilly.　frilly/frilly.　gear/gear.　grace/grace.　he/heir.　he/heiress.　he/hir.　he/ir.　heart/heart.　heir/ess.　heir/heir.　heir/heiress.　heiress/heiress.　king/king.　lace/lace.　lo/love.　lord/lord.　lord/lordship.　love/love.　luv/luv.　melody/melodie.　mirror/mirror.　mon/arch.　night/night.　no/nobili.　no/noble.　pale/pale.　pearl/pearl.　pillow/pillow.　pink/pink.　pretty/pretty.　pri/ince.　pri/prince.　pri/princess.　prin/cess.　prince/prince.　princess/princess.　princess/princesse.　princess/princesses.　queen/queen.　ribbon/ribbon.　ro/rose.　ro/royal.　robe/robe.　rose/rose.　royal/royal.　royal/royalty,　royal/royalty.　royalty/royaltie.　royalty/royalty,　royalty/royalty.　ruffle/ruffle.　shy/hyr.　sleep/sleep.　snore/snore.　suit/suit.　tea/tea.　throne/throne.　ti/ara.　ti/tiara.　tiara/tiara.　victorian/victorian.　watch/watche.　yawn/yawn.　zzz/zzz.　⚔/⚔.　⚜/⚜.　🏰/🏰.　👑/👑.　💎/💎.

[flodaya]

lets do this, official FYC campaign for the second annual Arts Awards @artsimpourtzi

TOMDAYA

Bestest moment of the year (aka the Arts Golden Crown award)

Most underrated moment of the year: tz at the brother's trust event

Most unexpected moment of the year

Best pretzeling exhibit

Best photo of the year

Sappiest moment of the year, sappy horny clingy disgusting, whatever you want to call it

Favorite concert

this is the hardest decision but i'm going with Usher, beyoncé 1.0 had the best moment of the year, but Usher had many hits in one night

Best city of the year (aka the MCA award)

London, hands down no competiton, let's not even kid ourselves, do not snub London istg

ZENDAYA

Best moment of the year: dayachella

Best red carpet outfit of the year

Best down bad moment of the year, girl GET UP

Best online moment of the year (RIP): posting tom unprovoked, girl????

TOM HOLLAND

Best down bad moment of the year

When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship When I feel most myself has to do with my relationship

Best online moment of the year, tom just randomly posting the most adorable picture of Z on his feed 🥹

ABOUT TOMDAYA (friends, family, lore)

Best Noon moment of the year: hanging out with your british granny and the mom of your dad's ex that your dad lowkey used as a rebound when your mommy and daddy went through a temporary break

Best Tomdaya tea

that one of the choir teacher and granny daphne.... likeeeee it's REAL #tome

Most unhinged anti theory of the year (aka the Flodaya award)

when they called the cute dorky picture tom posted for Z's birthday "active disprespect" lol

Most memorable tomdaya rumour of the year

the nonexistent rumor that Z posted an engagement ring and her overreaction to the whole thing, girllllll SO suspicious

Best account of people seeing them but NO PICTURES 😭

tz on a holland family vacation in portugal

TOMDAYA FANDOM

Best unglad art piece

glady's rendition of Z spreading her legs

The "you had to be there" tumblr moment award, seeing noon in EUROPE???? knowing it meant Z was staying in london for a WHILE, ohhhh i have not felt such parasocial joy in months

Biggest delulu moment of the year that came true: beyoncé 2.0

[judgementdayslittle]

Uncle Seth headcanons

-First of all, he is the BEST person to play dress up with. You've seen his outfits!

-Give him puppy dog eyes, and he'll let you raid his (and Becky's) closet

-Not only that, but he will glady let you paint his nails any color.

-And he let's you play with his hair! Letting you put any accessories on it in any style you want!

-Your know what goes great with dress up? Tea parties!

-If you don't like tea, then hot chocolate!

-Sometimes even Aunt Becky joins in!

-He also tells the funniest jokes! Your tummy always hurts from laughing so hard

-Over all, Seth is a great uncle!

[allbark-no-bite]

Silver Fox || Elvis Presley x reader

summary: in which Elvis decides not to dye his hair for once and it makes him that much more irresistible

warnings: mentions of smut, foul language

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: i’m in love with this one. y’all know i can’t resist some good domestic Elvis

I did not come from a kind home. I came from a home with slamming doors and shaking walls and air that was always thick with tension. My parents were turbulent, constantly tipping the scale with weeks of silence and then explosive nuclear rage. So I had always promised myself that I would find a partner who was kind. So that even on the days that love was not enough, there would still be kindness.

I'll always say my life began when I met Elvis. I fell in love with him first for his personality. He was so delicately mild mannered, and yet bursting with life. Even before we had children, he showed me what a real family was, and what ours could be like. 

His parents welcomed me with open arms. It had been the three of them against the world until all the fame, so although their family wasn't large, their bond was strong. I think Gladys was thrilled to have a daughter to dote on as well.

And as they say, a home with kindness breeds quickly. His parents, his cousins, the Memphis Mafia, their children, we all became a family. Our home at Graceland was soon filled with love, large meals, and laughter.

Years passed, and we had kids of our own. It became a problem really, the rate at which we produced children. We had our first baby a few weeks after he was discharged from the army (a last minute visit home had occurred eight months prior).

Eugene had barely begun walking before I was swollen again, six months pregnant with our second boy. Elvis was only twenty, and his career was skyrocketing. Truthfully, I liked to believe it was a blessing that we had started having kids so young. With Elvis' life that involved traveling constantly, and a career that asked for his home life and job to coexist as one, his youth enabled him to have the energy to go from touring one day to wrangling toddlers down for a nap the next. And he did it all with a smile.

We had agreed that after our third child, we were going to put a halt to the baby making—at least temporarily. Three young boys were a lot to handle, even with the help of his family. When it came down to it, our lives were already so busy as it was. We lasted a good eight years before Emily Joe came alone. And then once you have four, you might as well have five.

—

Elvis is lounging with his back against the railing of the porch, white sock clad feet crossed in front of him as he chats with Sonny and Joe. There's a coffee mug in his hand containing tea, an attempt to soothe his throat after a few strenuous weeks of performing. As usual, his casual attire consists of a silky black button up and dark jeans.

The sight makes me smile to myself from the doorway. The colors perfectly compliment his salt and pepper flecked hair, something he had only recently been allowing to show through. At thirty-five, Elvis had started greying much quicker than most, it just didn't show due to him dying it constantly. But with his schedule finally clear of any performances for the next week or so, he'd tossed the boxed dye aside in favor of letting it grow out. Flashes of silver and white lick through his otherwise stark black hair. While the change made him slightly uneasy, I thought it was the most attractive thing in the entire world.

Eventually he looks away from his conversation with Joe and catches me staring. With a bemused smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes, he uncrosses his feet and spreads his thighs, holding out an arm to pull me between his legs.

"What sonofabitch let you outta the house lookin' that pretty?" he teases, his voice low and throaty as he squeezes my shoulder and kisses affectionately into my hair.

I slap his firm chest and am met with solid resistance. "I know you don't kiss your mama with that mouth, Elvis Presley."

We'd been married for over ten years, and he still flirted with me just as much now as he did when we were dating. I'd been smart enough to marry the man for his character and lucky enough to love him for his looks. Elvis was just as good looking as he was in his teenage years, if not even more so. He had aged like fine French wine.

"C'mon, mama. Sweet thing like you carryin' my baby, I'm a lucky man," he purrs.

If I thought Elvis was handsy before, he was ten times worse when I was pregnant. Where ever I went, he always followed close behind, grasping my elbow to steady me or hovering nearby, at the ready for whatever I needed.

I laugh at him, only able to shake my head in response. "You're insatiable."

He had been between my thighs this morning, licking and sucking and nipping until my knees were quivering beside his face. I had to weakly push his head away after I'd come a second time on his tongue. Even afterwards, he had sat me on the bathroom counter top and made me taste myself on his lips.

He passes a hand under the swell of my stomach while leaning down to capture my lips in a gentle but savory kiss. "No, just horny," he whispers, as he pulls away just slightly, blue eyes mischievous, intending his last sentence purely for my own ears.

"Could the two of you at least wait until this one's born before you start makin' the next one," Sonny groans from the other side of the porch. "I've got enough godchildren for the time being."

Cheeks burning, I pull away from our extremely close proximity, but Elvis keeps me trapped between his legs. Joe is chuckling beside Sonny, the rest of the Mafia snickering from their various states of inhabitation on the porch.

Elvis lets out a short huff of a laugh, kicking back again against the railing. "Baby factory is closed," he informs them, running a hand through his silver flecked hair. "Damn kids are turnin' me grey."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You said that after Ernest." As if to prove my point, a scream echos from the yard behind us.

"Daddy!!"

A tiny four year old comes running up the porch steps, her arms held up in the air as she grabs for Elvis. Chestnut colored bangs fall into her round, doll shaped face, which is visibly upset. I was immensely surprised, when after having three children who looked like mirror images of Elvis, Emily took after me.

Before Elvis can even reach out to her, his hands preoccupied with my hips, Red swoops her off of her feet and into his arms.

There came a point after raising all of our kids together for so many years, that we often didn't think twice about who's kid was who's. They all probably thought they were siblings anyhow.

Just satisfied that she's gotten someone's attention, the toddler hiccups while trying to catch her breath. "U-Uncle Red, Eugene is— is bein' mean to Michael."

Back in the yard, the rest of the kids are running rampant in the yard, our dog darting around them as they toss a football. What had started as an organized football game looks to have turned into a squabble between the older boys. They tug on each other's clothes and shove their supposed teammates into the dirt. At the heart of the chaos are the eldest of the Presley children, Eugene and Micheal. The blonde seventeen year old has his feet planted to the ground, the latter's head locked between his elbow with no intention of letting go anytime soon. Michael's hands grab desperately at his brother, his feet scrambling wildly as he tries to escape. Eugene only grips him tighter.

With the pair so close in age, it seemed as though fights were becoming more and more inevitable. The teenagers quarreled like two cats forced to share a box, and fur was sure to fly. They tumbled down stairs and broke glasses and even noses from time to time (Micheal's once perfect button nose was still slightly askew). Elvis had told me a thousand times that it was all in good fun, but it still made me nervous.

One of Joe' boys tumbles into the pair, followed by Ernest, causing Eugene to stagger sideways. The blonde refusing to let go of his brother, Michael is forced along with him. Despite whatever minor argument had likely initiated the petty dispute, neither was giving in.

Back on the porch, Red just chuckles, tutting in pretend disapproval. "Awh, they're just pretendin', Em. You ain't gotta worry about them."

Still slightly distraught, Emily sniffs and wipes her eyes. While the Red and the rest of the mafia just laugh, finding the situation amusing, Emily and I do not.

Hands on my hips, I move to the edge of the porch. "Eugene Presley! Let go of your brother before you hurt him."

At the sound of my voice, the boys' wild flailing comes to a halt; however, Eugene doesn't release Michael just yet. The older boy's blue eyes shift from me to his father standing beside me, as if to gauge how serious I'm being.

Elvis, who had been only mildly concerned before my intervention, chuckles while placing a steadying hand at the small of my back. If it had been up to him, he likely would have allowed them to continue, but he would do anything to dim my worries. "Alright, that's enough. Let 'im go."

The moment Eugene loosens his hold, Micheal is shoving his brother away from him, a disgruntled look on his face. They start for the porch, taking our intervention as their queue to wrap up their game. Both of them look as though they've been drug through the dirt. Micheal's stock of blonde hair is rumpled throughly, and Eugene has a red welp on his cheek.

"Ma, Micheal started it," the boy defends as he reaches a closer earshot, sounding ten years younger than he is.

"DID NOT—," Micheal interjects, his body swiveling back in the other boy's direction,  but Elvis is quick to grab Micheal by the collar of his shirt before another fight breaks out.

He pulls the teenager towards him and wraps a heavy arm around his shoulders. Eugene raises an unamused eyebrow at his brother. "Give it a rest you two," Elvis says, laughing. There was a reason he was the fun parent.

Noticing that one of her brothers now has Elvis' attention, Emily slips out of Red's hold and scampers over to him, holding up her arms once again. "Me too, Daddy," she pleads, her tiny fingers grasping at the air.

Humming in amusement at his little girl, Elvis leans down and scoops her into his arms, emitting an exaggerated grunt as he does so. "I'm gettin' too old for this, little miss."

I rub a hand over my stomach thoughtfully, gazing at my husband fondly. No matter what he thought of himself, grey haired or not, thirty-four or seventy-four, he was still the wide-eyed boy I had married.

With the hand not on my stomach, I ruffle Ernest's hair, who had joined us with the rest of the kids on the porch. At twelve, he was four years younger than Micheal and hadn't become too cool for me just yet. He leans into me, his eyes drooping tiredly. Emily is already asleep in Elvis' arms.

"Alright, everyone," I announce, looking to my two younger kids but addressing everyone. "Time for bed."

Sonny, Joe, and Red, as well as the rest of the Mafia members are long gone, headed off for their respective homes by the time I come down the stairs from putting Emily to bed. She had begged for Elvis to sing to her, but with his voice still strained, I thought it best that he rested.

I find him still on the porch, soaking in the last of the cool evening. Elvis turns when he hears the door close behind me, and a smile overtakes his face. He opens his arms to me, pulling me into his chest once I'm close enough. At least, as close as he can with my growing stomach.

“How’re ya doin’, mama?”

I cup his jaw, my thumb stroking his cheek. His hooded doe eyes gaze at me warmly. "I’m doin’ just fine. How are you?”

Elvis rubs soothing circles into my sides. “Couldn’t be better. I’ve got my family, my beautiful, wonderful, amazing’ wife right here with me—”

I stop him, my thumb brushing over his lips. “That’s not really what I meant. You made a comment earlier... 'bout gettin' old... you know there is not a world in which I do not adore you."

He smiles against my thumb. “The grey really gets you goin’ huh? I meant it when I said the baby factory was closed.”

I laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “That doesn’t mean we can’t practice.”

[bellowbear]

My Random Analysis about Muteki Song Meaning (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Finally it's finish... and sorry for the long wait...

Warning : MANGA SPOILERS, My grammar is bad, My Japanese is also bad, don't trust my analysis perfectly, typos

“I can’t even notice beautiful things”

“The clown monster that I was forced to know will try to tame me”

“I’m sure it will gently bare its fangs”

“My heart began to shrink, with an ambivalent sense of justice and evil”

“With love even in the despair that there is no eternity”

Sakura didn’t realize that his friends were all trusting him, the beautiful things that Sakura can’t even notice because of Sakura's distrust and fear of rejection. ‘The clown monster’ is symbolized as Sakura's fear of rejection that always haunts him, that ‘the clown monster’ will surely someday bare its fangs to Sakura. We can see this from chapter 60, Sakura believes that the only path that will allow him to accept who he is just as wide as a tightrope. 

“My heart began to shrink, with an ambivalent sense of justice and evil”

“With love even in the despair that there is no eternity”

First, we need to know what this word are talking about : 

Shrink, ambivalent, and eternity. Okay, so english is not my native language, and I need to search the meaning from google first, and I got this conclusion.

Shrink as a verb is to become smaller, or to make something smaller, meanwhile as a noun is a clinical psychiatrist or psychologist. called also headshrinker. And, I think you guys know what I mean.

Ambivalent : having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone.

Eternity : time without end, or infinity.  

Sakura knew that he had to trust his friends more, and rely on them more. But, he is scared people will leave him because of what he views as ‘weak’, he refuses to admit it, this is why Sakura’s heart began to ‘shrink’, and ambivalence began to emerge in his heart. We can take reference from chapter 58 of the manga. 

Kaji gave a really good explanation for Sakura, if you guys forgot. Kaji uses a coffee bottle as an example, when Kaji changed the labels on the coffee bottle to Green Tea, Kaji still viewed this as a coffee bottle. The Green Tea label is a metaphor as the outer side of Sakura, where Sakura insists that he can do anything alone, he refuses to believe that.

And, the Coffee inside it, it’s a metaphor as what Sakura understands. Sakura understands that he can’t do this alone, he can’t do much on his own, and he has to rely on his friends more. 

“... How much you insist that this is Green Tea… to me, the inside is still coffee. Just changing the label… doesn’t mean that what’s inside changes. So, when you can’t do something and you refuse to admit it… then, it’s the same… as faking and insisting that this is Green Tea… when the inside is coffee.” Kaji to Sakura at chapter 58.

So, when Sakura confronted all of his friends, all of his classmates. That’s when Sakura begins to trust all his classmates, he begins to ‘love’ the place where he can stand so easily. Like, look at him, he laughing, and smiling for the first time in the manga. 

But, He knew that there’s no eternity in this place, everything is going to change, and what Sakura fears is that Makochi, and Furin are going to suffer because of him. Literally this part reminds me of chapter 145, and chapter 146, where Sakura almost falls into despair. Look at Sakura eyes at the beginning chapter 146, and the end of chapter 146. He looked so down, he almost fell into despair, but glady Suo, Nirei, and Tsugishita helped him. This can be seen in chapter 146 cover chapter.  

“Wobbly and tattered, I still wanted to stand”

“If only I could meet you with bare love”

“Taking unders and heaving dead, because it’s worse than that, I’m invincible”

“An outsider full of traumas, even it it’s devilish”

Aaaaaaaaaa I've always wanted to cry at these lyrics, my heart… okey, let’s get back to the point.

Even after what happened in the past, Sakura still wanted to understand people more, he still didn't want to give up yet. He said, he already gave up on being accepted, being judged, and he doesn’t care about what others think of him now. So, why is Sakura still thinking about the others leaving him alone? Well, that’s because he still wanted to ‘stand’, he still wanted to face the others.

Of course, it’s not only that, Sakura still wanted to stand and protect Furin, even though he was wobbly and tattered, and this brings us to the next lyrics. If only Sakura can love Furin with all his heart, maybe he can face them without hesitation. He can see the others as who they are, no more the feeling of being scared of being rejected, and he can trust them on what he can see. He… can stand freely.

 “Taking unders and heaving dead, because it’s worse than that, I’m invincible” 

For the sake of God… time to brainrot my brain again.

Oh, wait… nevermind, now I remember Umemiya said to Sakura that he will never lose to reach the top. Now, you see what I see.

Remember, when the Shishitoren arc finish, the geng plus Choji and Togame having a picnic, yeah that’s what I’m talking about. ‘Taking unders and heaving dead’ also can be seen as ‘give up’. For reaching the top, Umemiya told Sakura, that no matter how difficult the path, no matter how unreasonable the climb is, and no matter how absurd it gets, he will never lose. 

And, because of that, giving up became something that is worse, because if sakura gave up now (fighting Endo), he couldn’t reach the top. And, so once again “I’m invincible” has another meaning, this has become more than just a sentence, but it’s become a declaration, and promise. A declaration that Sakura will never give up again, and a promise to reach the top.

“An outsider full of traumas, even it it’s devilish”

Before, Sakura is just some random outsider that comes into the town, bringing full of traumas on his shoulders alone. Viewed as someone who is ‘devilish’, we can see this as problematic, or even troublesome. Sakura, and the society view Sakura as problematic, and troublesome to deal with, and we can see that clearly in the first eps of the anime, and the entire series of the manga.

“I want to protect you, I want to love you, my heartbeat makes me cry”

“The smell of blood sweetly wafts, malice stretches out”

“I want to hold you tight for the last time to the point of breaking”

But, he wanted to protect, and love with all his heart the place where he belonged to, the place where he cherished, and open up his heart. “my heartbeat” can be seen as Sakura without any hesitation went to Shishitoren teritory, Roppo-Ichiza, and Gravel, all of this just for the sake of Furin, his friends, and the place where he belongs. 

“makes me cry” because Sakura doesn’t want to lose all of this, he realizes how precious Furin and Makochi are for him, so it’s okay for him to cry, and begging the other team to help him, because the important thing is that Furin is still safe. 

“The smell of blood sweetly wafts, malice stretches out”

Time to remind you guys that english is not my native language… so it’s time to google again…

Malice : the intention or desire to cause harm (as death, bodily injury, or property damage) to another through an unlawful or wrongful act without justification or excuse.

I… okey this reminds me of Endo…idk, because the next lyrics is literally about Sakura wanting to hold tight on his friends. Okay, let’s talk about that later. 

Idk why, but maybe this lyrics is talking about the Noroshi arc (yeah, I know it’s not the arc name but idk I'm too lazy to read the whole manga again).

The malice this lyrics is talking about, is about Noroshi. Noroshi is the ‘malice’, but mainly it’s about Endo, and ‘the smell of blood sweetly wafts’ is talking about Sakura. From the beginning of the arc, Sakura is already being targeted by Endo itself. 

Wafts : The scent of climbing roses wafts through the window.

For Endo, Sakura has the same spark as Takiishi, because of that these lyrics make more sense (I think?), and Endo wanted to have Sakura on his side. Like we see in the manga. So, the next lyrics make more sense, Sakura wanted to hold on with his own two hands, he wanted to hold tight his friends. Even if it means he almost went broke. 

Because…

“I won’t look away from your eyes anymore”

He won’t look away from his friends anymore, this time he won’t fall to the abyss for the second time, because his friends are there to hold his hand tight. 

So, Sakura will face it, he won’t look away anymore. Let’s take chapter 1 and chapter 146 as examples of it. At first Sakura is scared to look at Kotoha and the people in town, he looks at them, but he gets scared, then glances away.

But, then at chapter 146, Sakura is facing Sugishita. No more fear in his eyes, he stood there with confidence. You guys can see the parallels of chapter 1 and chapter 146,  btw there are some Tumblr users who realize this before me, so I’m gonna copy the link for you guys. 

Anyway, in the ending scene, there’s Umemiya. You know, the fact that the animator showing Umemiya at the beginning and the end of the scene is literally perfect. Umemiya tells Sakura that he was given the status, he doesn't take it, he can’t become the top alone. And that is why the opening shows Umemiya, that’s because Umemiya teaches, Umemiya becomes the mentor itself.

There is also one Tumblr user who has the theory that Umemiya chose Sakura to be the next leader, and that is a good theory.

This also happened at chapter 55 and chapter 59, Umemiya told Sakura that he liked all of his friends, and at chapter 59 Umemiya encouraged Sakura to trust his friends more. 

“Sakura. The reason why you couldn’t move… was probably because you saw your friends all beat up. Don’t ya think? If that’s the case… then there’s only one reason why that happened. It’s because… you like them.” Umemiya to Sakura at chapter 55.

“Trust Kaji. Trust your friends. And jump right out there… with everything you’ve got!” Umemiya to Sakura at chapter 59.

Conclusion : 

I love this song, Young Kee did a really good job of explaining Sakura's feelings with the song. 

Sakura is really one of the complexes I love, well not really complex if you compare it with Monster characters.But if it’s Shounen we’re talking about, then yes. Like bro, I really like how Satoru nii-sensei portrayed Sakura struggles with drawing, and how he is learning to accept who he is, learning to see his friends based on what he sees, the struggles and the anxiety that make me move.

Anyway thank you to Jamong for the lyrics translation on youtube,

Lyrical-Nonsense , and

MatchLyric

People who liked and read this nonsense paragraph. Like, I type this analysis in Google docs, and it’s almost 12 pages. Like wtf men, this is pure blabbering nonsense I say.

But, anyway, thank you, and see you guys on my next fanart then :333

PS :

I think it's time for me to go back at Twisted Wonderland fandom, and I'm still grinding for Floyd card... help...

[gladdygirl18]

It's been a while but I AM BACK..... with a new tickle tea story 😆😆😆🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾 (and it's a fun one)

You know the drill: blue me, pink ex-GF, red friend 1, orange friend 2

So this week, my ex-gf (we are still incredibly close friends, like sisters 🥰🫶🏾), and I'm over at one of our mutual friend's house just chilling out

So throughout the day, she kept poking me and tickling my sides (I am wearing a very short crop top that shows a lot of my stomach and sides so easy tickle access 🤭🫶🏾)

So while at my friend's house (there r 4 of us, and I am the shortest 😅) the other 3 kept poking and jabbing at my sides and belly

Friend 2 would occasionally poke and jab my side while I was tickling him (surprisingly fairly ticklish too 😆) my ex is still ticklish and friend 1 is not ticklish at all

And when I went to sit down next to my ex on the floor I hugged her and she started poking and jabbing my sides and belly and tickling my neck

"are we poking Gladys?" *walks over to me and the others*

"NO!"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Yeah might as well"

AND ALL 3 OF THEM START TICKLING ME 😆🤣😆🤣💖💖🫶🏾🫶🏾

I was completely boxed in too 😆 my ex friend 1 were tickling my sides and belly and friend 2 was tickling my armpits

Omgggggg it was so funny! Emphasis on the FUN 🤭🤭

After a while, when I tried poking and tickling friend 1 and he didn't react I asked "how are you not ticklish?" "I was ticklish but grew out of it" "some of my friends know I'm ticklish and some don't, and I can choose not to be ticklish"

My ex starts tickling my sides, belly, thighs, and knees "you have some sweet spots" and I actually turned off my ticklishness

And while my ex and I were on our own, she would occasionally poke my sides

She then lovingly placed a kiss on my forehead and said "I missed this" I look up at her and kiss her cheek "I missed you" and we ended up cuddling for like a good while while watching videos

OMGGGG IM SO HAPPY I GET TO SEE HER AGAIN 😆😆🥰🥰😍💖🫶🏾🫶🏾💖🫶🏾😆 ik we're not together anymore, but our friendship since then has never severed.

Edit: forgot to tag some ppl- @giggly-squiggily @otomiyaa @sunstone-smiles @burningablaze @cutesmokes

Don't know when the next TTS will be, but I was so glad this happened yesterday 🫶🏾😆🥰

[rela-monarchy39]

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanwork's Event Day 5: The Saw is Family

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks Fyi the Sawyers are meant to be younger in these drabbles because I'm obsessed with how the Sawyer family's childhood would be like. First drabble: Drayton- early 20s, Choptop and Nubbins- 8, Bubba- 2, second drabble: Choptop and nubbins- early teens, third drabble- same age they are in TCM

Silence:

It’s quiet.

Too quiet for Drayton’s liking, and that means his brothers are up to no good. Last time they were this quiet, Bobby and Nubbin were trying to sneak in an old raccoon to keep as a pet. Drayton forced them to send her back to the wild as soon as he found them. To this day, the twins still miss Gladys the raccoon and are still pissed at Drayton.

Drayton groans and makes his way to the twins bedroom.

The silence is later broken by the sound of muffled crying, but it's not Bobby or Nubbins. No, it's lil' baby Bubba.

Drayton runs upstairs and slams the twins bedroom door open. "What the hell is going on in here?"

In the middle of the floor, Bobby and Nubbins sit next to each other with a crying Bubba sitting in front of them. Nubbins is holding a pair of scissors and a clump of Bubba's hair. Bobby is holding a mirror in front of Bubba.

"Were- were just giving Bubba a haircut!" Nubbins holds up his scissors.

"Yeah! We ain't doin' nothing bad!" Bobby picks Bubba up. "And- and Bubba loves his haircut. Right, bro?"

"Nuh-uh!"

Bobby covers Bubba's mouth. "Course you do!"

The twins smile at Drayton innocently, as if they didn't just ruined Bubba's hair.

Questions:

Nubbins always struggled to fall asleep, meanwhile Bobby has always been a light sleeper. So while he tried to fall asleep, Nubbins would talk to Bobby about the most random stuff.

Nubbins rolled over onto his side to face Bobby across the room. "Hey, Bobby?"

Bobby groans and rolls onto his side. "What now?"

"Do you think the reason we eat people is not because they taste good, but because our family are one of the many victims of capitalism since we lost our jobs at the slaughterhouse? And how the way we hunt and kill people like they're cattle is to show an audience how animals are treated horrible in slaughterhouses?"

Bobby blinks, trying to come up with a response. "That's stupid, Nubbins! Now, let me ask you a something deep. How come feet smell if they don't have noses?"

"Damn, bro, that's deep."

Porch:

Drayton watches from the porch as Nubbins and Bobby wrestle each other to the ground. Their clothes are covered in dirt from rolling around in the dirt driveway. Usually, Drayton would yell at them to shut up and stop messing around, but this time he lets them since it's Bobby's last day home.

The front door swings open, and Bubba comes out, holding a tray of glasses of sweet tea. Bubba made a noise in a way to ask if he wanted some sweet tea. Drayton notices the massive pile of sugar at the bottom of the pitcher. Not wanting to hurt Bubba's feelings, Drayton takes one of the glasses. He takes a sip, and does his best to hide a grimace from Bubba.

Too fucking sweet

Bubba sets the tray of sweet tea on the small porch table, and sits next to Drayton. Bubba taps Drayton on the shoulder, pointed at the sweet tea then at the twins.

"I'll let them know about the tea later. Just let them be for now."

Bubba fiddles with his fingers and licks his teeth. He starts making noises which gets Drayton's attention. "What, Bubba?" Drayton asks. Bubba whines again the points at Bobby, who's now laying face down on the ground. "You're worried 'bout Bobby, right."

Bubba nods his head.

"It's alright Bubba, nothing bad is goin' to happen him. He'll serve in 'Nam then he'll come back home safe. And while he's gone we'll wait for him."

[sigyns-drafts]

Wassup! How ya doin? So, I've been looking through your stuff, and honestly, DAMN you write good! If it's not too much, I'd like to request for ROR Buddha, Ares, Hermes, and Jack interacting with or having teatime with Marie Antoinette reader?

After reading her up as to what she was actually like, I'd like to think that after her death, she started leading a more modest lifestyle cause I like the idea of her becoming a cottage core girlie, but still maintaining some level of opulence from her life, like jewelry, or love of sweets.

That'd be all! Wish you the best!

A/N: Hello, I'm doing just fine today and thank you so much for asking and for the compliment!! I'm very passionate about my works and writings. 👀

Glady I will, it's never too much. I hope you're also doing fine and if not, please enjoy what I've got for you. Also did you draw that? It's stunning!!

I absolutely adore this idea you have for Marie Antoinette, 100℅ cottagecore girl!~ <3

Teatime with Marie Antoinette ☕🤍

➩ Marie Antoinette, adorned in a gown of shimmering silk and gold jewelry, sat gracefully at a marble table set with delicate porcelain teacups and dainty pastries. Across from her, sat an empty chair for whoever would want to join her.

And much to the woman's surprise, who was used to being alone in this afterlife because of her past, would be having some company after all, much to her delight!

➩ Reader type: Marie Antoinette!reader with Buddha, Ares, Hermes and Jack the ripper.

⚠: Mentions of past death, murders, past regrets & flashbacks, angst, jacks mommy issues!

Buddha:

The scent of blossoms hung heavy in the air and the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing backdrop to the graceful Marie Antoinette, who found herself seated at a elegantly set tea table.

Opposite her sat Buddha, the enlightened one, who had joined her for tea, albeit for an unconventional reason.

Marie Antoinette, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected guest, regarded Buddha with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Welcome, honored Buddha," she greeted, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Buddha, his serene expression unchanged, offered a gentle smile.

"I have come for the pastries," he replied simply, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"But I am also curious to hear your story, Madame Antoinette."

Marie Antoinette's laughter bubbled forth like a sparkling stream, her mirth contagious in the tranquil garden.

"Well, Buddha," she exclaimed, her eyes dancing with amusement, "you are in luck, for I have plenty of pastries to share, and a story to tell that is as rich as the treats before us."

As they indulged in the delectable pastries, their conversation flowed effortlessly, traversing the realms of history, philosophy, and the intricacies of human nature.

Despite their stark differences in background and beliefs, Marie Antoinette and Buddha found a surprising kinship in their shared appreciation for life's simple pleasures.

Buddha listened intently as Marie Antoinette regaled him with tales of her life as the Queen of France, her voice animated with passion and warmth.

From her extravagant balls and lavish feasts to the tumultuous political landscape that defined her reign, she painted a vivid portrait of a woman caught in the whirlwind of history.

"And what of you, Buddha?" Marie Antoinette inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"What led you to seek enlightenment and transcendence?"

Buddha's expression softened, his gaze turning inward as he reflected on his journey towards enlightenment.

"I sought to understand the nature of suffering and the path to liberation," he explained, his voice serene yet filled with compassion.

"In the pursuit of truth, I found a deeper understanding of the human condition and the interconnectedness of all beings."

Marie Antoinette nodded thoughtfully, her admiration for Buddha's wisdom evident in her eyes.

"A noble quest indeed," she remarked, her voice tinged with respect. "And yet, here we are, bound together by a shared love for pastries and the joy of good company."

Buddha had to let out a small chuckle, "Hah, indeed we are Madame, indeed we are."

Ares:

Marie Antoinette found herself seated at a gracefully adorned tea table, her delicate porcelain cup filled with fragrant brew.

Across from her sat Ares, the formidable god of war, his imposing presence softened by the ambiance of their setting.

Marie greeted Ares with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with charm. "Welcome, Lord Ares," she said graciously, extending a dainty hand in greeting.

"I am delighted to have your company for tea this evening."

Ares, his expression stoic yet tinged with uncertainty, returned the gesture with a curt nod.

He shook her hand as gently as he was able to, afraid to somehow hurt her. His hand was much bigger than hers after all and compared to her, he was a god.

"The pleasure is mine, Madame Antoinette," he replied, his voice gruff yet respectful.

"I must admit, tea is not something I am accustomed to, but I am willing to partake.."

As they settled into their seats, Marie Antoinette poured tea for both herself and Ares, her movements graceful and practiced.

Ares, however, found himself struggling with the delicate intricacies of tea etiquette, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the delicate teacup.

Marie Antoinette let out a small giggle behind her hand as she watched Ares' attempts, finding his earnestness endearing despite his lack of finesse.

"Fear not, Lord Ares," she reassured him, her voice laced with amusement.

"Tea drinking is an art form, but with a bit of guidance, I am certain you will master it in no time."

With patient encouragement, Marie Antoinette guided Ares through the proper technique of holding the teacup, lifting it with elegance, and sipping the tea with refined grace.

Though Ares initially struggled to emulate her poise, he soon found himself growing more accustomed to the ritual, his movements becoming smoother with each attempt.

As they conversed over tea, Marie Antoinette regaled Ares with tales of her life in the royal court of France, her anecdotes punctuated by laughter and animated gestures.

Ares listened intently, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of admiration and bemusement.

"And what of you, Lord Ares?" Marie Antoinette inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"What tales do you have to share from ancient Greece?"

Ares' expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"My tales are not ones of refinement and elegance. They're just not suitable for a fair lady such as you," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of determination in doing the proper thing he thought was best.

Even if it had sparked her curiosity and interest to hear what went out on the battlefield, Marie Antoinette simply just nodded and chuckled in return.

"Whatever you say Ares, if that is what you wish."

Hermes:

Marie Antoinette found herself seated at a beautifully adorned tea table, her porcelain cup filled with delicious warm tea.

Before her stood Hermes, the fleet-footed messenger of the gods, his presence exuding an air of elegance much like her own and efficiency.

Hermes, clad in his customary black suit and carrying a tray laden with delicacies, bowed respectfully before Marie Antoinette.

"Madame Antoinette," he greeted, his voice smooth as silk.

"I have come to attend to your needs as your humble bulter this evening."

Marie Antoinette smiled graciously, her eyes filled with appreciation.

"Oh thank you, Hermes," she replied, her voice soft and filled with a sincere warmth.

"But I would much prefer your company, if you would be so kind."

Hermes hesitated for a moment, unused to be offerd this by someone he saw as a guest to him and the other gods court.

But he found himself unable refuse the request of the gracious lady in front of him.

With a nod of acquiescence, he set down the tray and took a seat opposite Marie Antoinette, his demeanor composed yet curious.

As they began to engage in polite conversation, their words flowing effortlessly between them.

Despite their best efforts to maintain a sense of decorum, a sudden mishap occurred when Marie Antoinette inadvertently knocked over a delicate teacup, causing it to spill it's contents onto the table.

"Pardon me, sir," Marie Antoinette exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"I did not do that on purpose!"

Hermes' expression softened with recognition as he realized the significance of her words.

Those were her last words before she was executed.

"No need to apologize, Madame Antoinette," he replied gently, his voice tinged with sympathy as he took out a napkin from his pocket.

"Its okay for even those of high statuses to make mistakes and be a bit clumsy."

Marie Antoinette nodded but quickly grew quiet, her thoughts drifting back to the events of her mortal life, to the past tumultuous moments leading up to her untimely demise.

Yet, despite the weight of her memories haunting her, she found solace in Hermes' understanding gaze, his silent support a balm to her troubled soul.

"I apologize for my words, Madame Antoinette but I'm being truthful." Hermes spoke once more, his eyes filled with compassion.

"I did not mean to cause you so much distress."

"How did you- doesn't matter.."

Marie Antoinette shook her head, offering him a gentle smile. She wasn't sure how Hermes was able to tell something was off about her.

Was it because he was a divine being or because it was so obvious? Either way it didn't matter.

"It is quite all right, Hermes. You haven't..i just had to remember something." she replied, her voice filled with forgiveness.

"In fact, I am grateful for your understanding. You're right, even I can make mistakes."

"Exactly, now let me clean this up for us so we can continue this splendid tea party, hm~"

Jack the ripper:

In the serene gardens of the afterlife, Marie Antoinette sat gracefully at a finely set tea table, her porcelain cup filled with warm tea, her mind lost in contemplation.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence approaching, and to her surprise, Jack the Ripper emerged from the shadows, his demeanor creepy yet strangely intriguing.

Jack, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, bowed respectfully before Marie Antoinette.

"Madame Antoinette," he greeted, his voice a low murmur, "I hope you do not mind if I join you for tea. After all, who am I to resist such a grand offer?"

Marie Antoinette, though taken aback by the unexpected company, of such a known killer gestured graciously for Jack to take a seat.

"Of course, Monsieur Ripper, who am I to dismiss some company!" she replied, her voice composed yet tinged with curiosity.

"I welcome you, unlike most here.." She sighs, recalling how many had been very cold towards him.

Though who were they to blame for having murdered innocent women.

As they settled into their seats, Marie Antoinette and Jack engaged in polite conversations at first, their words dancing between until it slowly took a deep turn.

Jack, ever the enigma, shared tales of his past, his voice tinged with a mixture of remorse and defiance.

Marie Antoinette listened intently, her heart heavy with empathy for the man shrouded in darkness.

Yet she still had to think about his poor victims and how it could've all been avoided if Jack's mother hadn't snapped, same went for the bearded man himself.

"And what of you, Madame Antoinette?" Jack inquired, his gaze piercing yet strangely gentle.

"How did you find yourself in the halls of the afterlife?"

Marie Antoinette's expression softened as she recounted the events of her mortal life, from her rise as the Queen of France to her tragic demise at the hands of the revolutionaries.

She usually wouldn't have shared such memories with someone, for it haunted her so deeply til this day.

But knowing Jack hadn't been any better than her when he was alive, she felt like she could speak of the trials and tribulations she faced, her voice filled with hidden sorrow.

As their conversation delved deeper into the intricacies of their pasts, Marie Antoinette and Jack found themselves bound by a shared understanding of the burdens they bore.

Even with the vast chasm that separated them in life, they discovered a common thread of humanity that transcended the boundaries of time and circumstance.

Suddenly, amidst their conversation, a faint sound echoed through the garden, the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps.

Marie Antoinette's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see her beloved child, running towards her with arms outstretched.

"Mama!" the child cried, tears streaming down their cheeks, seeking solace in their mother's embrace.

Marie Antoinette's eyes brimmed with tears as she enveloped her child in a warm embrace, her heart overflowing with love for her youngling.

"Oh darling what are you doing here?!"

As she glanced up at Jack, she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, a glimpse of the vulnerability that lurked beneath his hardened exterior.

Jack watched the tender scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing upon his lips. In that moment, he saw himself reflected in the child's tears, a lost soul seeking comfort in the arms of their mother.

"Well aren't they a adorable little one~"