#or as we would call it toxic masculinity

[havinganormalone]

Trying to contain myself and I just can't. I can't stop thinking about this scene and it has me in fucking shreds

The way he fishes for the word "wife,'' trying to translate what he was to this other alien into human language. Explaining that his wife's passing is what drove him to abandon his planet. And then the almost exuberant way he he says "It is now." This is probably the first time he has contextualized his grief this way, as mourning for someone he loved, and the first time he's processed how much his mate's death hurt him.

What's so interesting about this is that Harry clearly frame's his motivation for coming to Earth as a result of grief. However, he made that decision BEFORE assuming human form and allegedly gaining emotion for the first time. I think it's more likely that Harry- and his entire species- do feel emotion to at least some capacity. However, whether it is because of societal pressure to be stoic or because of a literal difference in brain structure, they are not as conscious of their emotions. It doesn't mean emotions don't factor into their decision making, but that they don't acknowledge its influence (much the same way patriarchal society frames men as being more rational and less emotional in their decision making, and a man will confidently assert this even as he throws the biggest tantrum).

And here Harry is, being able to finally process and realize how much emotion HAS influenced him. And the look on his face, on the verge of tears and yet also joyful, because accepting loss also means accepting that there was something to lose in the first place, it means feeling the shape of your heart for the first time only because there is a massive hole in it.

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[slimyshield]

the fact that it was Whitaker who found Robby. the fact that they made a point of showing that it could have been Santos who found Robby. Santos who has shown she is willing to go above someone's head if she thinks it's necessary. Santos who would have told someone - Dana, Abbot, someone - if she was the one to find Robby having a panic attack on the floor. she wouldn't have been crazy about it because she did go about reporting Langdon with tact and nuance (getting other ppls takes on Langdon and proof of drugs vanishing before she went to Robby!!) but she would have said something she would have mentioned something.

but instead it's Whitaker. who is empathetic, yes, and perhaps what he said was what Robby needed in the moment, what the ER needed in the moment, because they couldn't afford to have an attending tap out in the middle of a mass casualty event. but Whitaker is a young white man. a demographic the show has specifically pointed out is drowning in toxic masculinity. he is a young white man from Nebraska with multiple brothers, and it has been shown that he has the spirit but lacks the execution skills in terms of empathy and knowing what would be best for the patient holistically. so he says what he thinks Robby needs to hear, the long and short of which is put your emotions aside and get your head in the game, which the audience knows is not what Robby genuinely, actually needs in order to get better in the long term. and we see the direct results of that when after Robby stands he physically pushes Whitaker away. because that is what emotional unavailability does to men. it makes them reject each other in moments of weakness. like. the metaphor is so obvious and devastating. it's right there! he pushes him away! he pushes him away!! you think or maybe hope they're about to have a glorious heart to heart -- but Robby pushes him away, and so Whitaker leaves (with a nickname for Robby that, correct me if I'm wrong, is the first time we hear it; and he calls him captain. a military rank. which is. an insane decision from the writers. the military, which perpetuates toxic masculinity more than perhaps any other entity in the world). and Whitaker doesn't have the lack of respect for authority that Santos has, so when Robby comes to him later and says you won't tell anyone about this will you, he says no, I won't. where we have textual in-show evidence that Santos might have said no I won't and then gone to Dana or Abbot afterwards. and then Whitaker parrots Robby's horrendous, fumbling how do we deal with losing patients? push it down and never process it speech back at him. it's heartwarming! Robby smiles! and then you think about it a bit more and you just feel sick.

this is not an attack on Whitaker. I love him so much. it's just like. this is how the cycle of toxic masculinity is perpetuated. Whitaker isn't an asshole! he has buckets of empathy we have seen that! he is a bleeding heart! but it's still not enough. as a man he has been told his entire life to shut his emotions down and that vulnerability is to be avoided at all costs and he and Robby catch each other in a negative loop. the cycle is continued, unwittingly. GOD this show is so good

[dukeofankh]

Leaving toxic masculinity behind as a source of community is pretty much an unmitigated good, especially for men who are chronically underperforming in one or more metric by which hegemonic patriarchal status is measured (heterosexuality, whiteness, ability to perform violence, ect.). No real external spur is needed for leaving. It doesn't even require empathy. Just perspective. Relying on an abusive pyramid scheme for self worth is bad, actually.

But when you leave that, I dunno, call me a whiny incel who expects emotional labour from others, it would be cool if there was some sort of community or support structure in place for progressive men to find celebration and identity and acceptance. It would be nice if we had cultural conceptions of positive masculinity that could be emulated instead of individual, exceptional, disposable blorbos to be fawned over. It would be nice if being masculine wasn't viewed as something that negates or problematises my queerness. It would be nice to even be able to find media about masculinity that isn't poisoned by fascism or more interested in dunking on said misogynists for clout. I feel like I'm trying to build something new from scratch. Why? Why is this such a fucking wasteland.

I don't know about y'all, but I have never felt understood and accepted by any community ever in my fucking life. I have never felt seen. I have never felt at home. I'm not gonna become a misogynist about it but there sure isn't anything positive to lean on or collective vision for a positive future to fucking strive for, is there? Christ.

And like, because I know I do have to end with this, before you try some faux-hopecore bullshit on me that actually seeks to shift the blame right back onto me, I'm already donating to and planning to volunteer for my local left wing party for our upcoming federal election. I already signed up for more classes to fill my time, I'm married, I text my stupid friends who bail on me and don't text back. I have been to therapy several times. I have already poured hundreds of hours trying to build community in male feminist spaces online. Systemic issues do not magically become individual failings when we talk about men.

[velvetvexations]

saw the post that's like "Surely egg jokes are also made from trans men to cis women. Why is this not a concern then? Maybe, just maybe, the idea of suggesting to a man he might be a woman is considered a grave offense, while suggesting to a woman she might be a man isn't?" which finally put into perspective how just. SO many people pull their ideas of what transmascs/men do STRAIGHT outta their asses. cracking an egg joke to cis women???? these ladies have a whole "nooooooo don't say that about yourself, you're beautiful!!!!!!" meltdown if i call myself masculine, girl i can't make egg jokes about myself (closeted transmasc)!!!! like i legit currently have a friend (girl) who's regularly like "god i yearn so much to engage with other men as a man" and i can't even try to tell her to maybe experiment like. for her own good. not even from a place of "hey, i've been there, maybe you could ponder over this?" place because i'm so afraid of crossing a boundary.

it's like. i once saw a video from a central asian country of a girl who says she wishes to be a boy. she was sent to a psychiatrist who told her "if we put you under surgery to make you a boy right now, would you take it?" and she immediately said "yes!". and the whole comments section is just "don't make this into your wholesome trans story, this is a girl who's tired of misogyny!!!!" because clearly, us third world wymbyn never experience any other thought about gender except "wow i hate being a woman for societal reasons only!"

anyway, if you make an egg joke at a cis woman, these are usually your options:

conservative lady: how dare you insult me like that, you're saying i've failed as a woman in this society????

most liberated woman: you're such a misogynistic pig you think just because i have a brain means i'm a man????

(i'd love to meet a cis woman that would be able to take an egg joke tbh. i don't think anyone needs to put up with egg jokes and tend not to make them either, but it's just a little scary to think most people would flip out so seriously about one singular joke like that.)

A lot of cis women really do react to suggest manliness just like toxic cis men being called girls lmao. This should be obvious to like, anyone? Literally everyone on Earth should know this.

[animatewarriorcats]

Redwillow! First listed in the eclipse allegiances with Whitewater as his mentor. He has some appearances in the first few omen of the stars books, but mostly is a generic background character. By Night Whispers however he is in my opinion characterized as a seasoned warrior, even though he is very new to the books. He is put in charge of leading a boarder patrol, and is seen after the battle of the border covered in wounds. Later in the book however he is part of the group that plays on the frozen lake, skidding across the surface on his belly. I love this segment because he is mentioned alongside senior warriors Crowfrost and Ratscar who yowl in amusement at his antics.

There is some of what I'm going to call fan interpretation of Redwillow that he is a loner in Shadowclan, but in the books his moderate regard by his own leader and senior warriors suggests to me instead that he was well liked, and integrated into the clan, even though it's never established who his kin is. That's why to me he becomes an example later on of a cat who's ambition is used to radicalize him to the Dark Forest. He doesn't start out a traitor to Shadowclan, on the contrary Redwillow spends his time in the dark forest close to his living clanmates. It isn't until the Forgotten Warrior that Ivypool points out Redwillow specifically multiple times when she's looking for cats that may have loyalties outside their clans. He never says anything to that point, rather his body language and exchanged glances are what makes her think so. Within the Last hope he makes several remarks in the Dark Forest about becoming the best warrior he can be, and that training in the Dark Forest makes training with Shadowclan feel like working with kittypets. Ivypool confronts him in a conversation with Hollowflight asking if he would let his weaker Clanmates die and he says "O-of course not" just that they had a lot to learn from the Dark Forest Warriors. Even with that I remember finding his final moments in the Last Hope a departure from his character, where he declares the Dark Forest his new clan, and that Blackstar's time is over.

Idk I just wanted more out of the radicalization of the clan cats while it was happening. I guess as someone who grew up with the internet I'm not a stranger to what anarchy and rebellion look like behind closed doors and personally felt that the concept of being isolated in a toxic in group extremely interesting, I found the the non-committal conversations of the dark forest trainees to be much more innocent than the showy posturing of competitive vitriol I've known such spaces to inspire. The fact that Redwillow and Breezepelt at the end of the battle were the only two warriors we know by name that sided with the Dark Forest to the end seems like such an underestimate to me. All I'm saying is that while I do love Redwillow for being an example of this, Clan cat rebellion to the Dark Forest could have been much more catastrophic than it was, and especially for the amount of plot and hype that it was given in universe. Add to all that the possible reading of Redwillow as a transmasc character that is radicalized into toxic masculinity and I want it to be known that i do love this character, but that most of that love comes from meta analysis and not from the text itself. He shouldn't have died twice in the Broken Code because truthfully he just didn't deserve it.

[caffinated-squid]

Dissecting Pete and his complicated role in The Eltingville Club

Time to talk about Pete, the character that I have actually struggled the most to write about because I have a lot to say and have been struggling to coherently organize it. Also because I have seen some other people make really good analysis pieces about him, so I’m going to try my best to contribute.

On surface level Pete appears to have the same function as Jerry in the club, he is the support of the group and is able to break up a lot of the arguments that Bill and Josh get into. However, Pete doesn’t resolve the actual problem, he actually has the tendency to exacerbate it by actively encouraging the characters shitty behaviors instead of calming them down. One example that comes to mind is the Steel figures, instead of getting Josh to calm down and move on, he goes on a rant about the movie, and then encourages Josh with the idea of burning down the Steel display.

There is also the possibility that he originally joined the club as a kid both to talk about their nerdy interests together, as well as to get away from the violence in his family. But overtime he ended up needing to deal with fights and arguments from the club, as well as eventually participating in it.

*Focusing on Petes temper for a second, I think the main reason why a lot of his outbursts result in property damage is from him having no fucking clue how to deal with his emotions. From the brief scenes we hear his dad talk and what Dorkin has mentioned, Pete grew up in a household that encouraged toxic masculinity and rejected his own interests as being unimportant or for children. Dorkin also mentioned Pete growing up in a physical household where he was hit a lot, (which can also be implied when his dad threatens to break his legs if he ever tries to meet with the club again) so his go to for anything is to get violent, its the only acceptable emotion to express.

**I also like to think this is why Pete had the least of a reaction when Bill goes on his rant tearing him down, its probably the norm for him.

I find Pete’s contributions to the environment of the club to be interesting because of how contradictory it is. Pete is usually the character to call other characters pussies or make fun of them for not doing things that are traditionally masculine, (like the comment to Jerry about how sewing is for chicks, sissies, and sweatshop workers) but at the same time needs to defend his own interests from the club as it gets brushed off as being gay or not worth discussion, including needing to defend his admiration of horror make up/special effects.

His reaction makes sense in the context of his family life since they don’t care about his interests either, and the club being his only friend group probably gives the urgency to both protect his interests while also aggressively stamping out any suggestion that it implies something about him. If bi Pete is canon, I’m assuming he doesn’t even want to think about it because if it were true, it would probably lead to more isolation and more things for the club and his family to shit on him for.

Out of all the character punishments, next to Josh, I think Pete got the worst of it when it came to punishments, as he was forced to throw out all of his horror stuff after the comic shop burned down, since his method of escapism was completely ripped away from him and confirmed as non important kids stuff that he needs to grow out of. It’s also sad to see because in comics like Unstable Molecules and They’re Dead, They’re All Messed Up, you can see Pete’s interest in horror make up and costumes shine through. Mentions of him improving the zombie looks from the prior year and his admiration for the horror make up in The Twilight Zone episodes show that he cares about the craft behind it. (same with him talking about horror icons like Peter Cushing, Anne Rice, and Christopher Lee)

Destroying this escapism didn’t make Pete more of an adult. Ironically he became more of a child as he got older, his insecurity about his interests made him seek out more adult content, both because its content he gets off to, as well as wanting to be perceived as an adult, which is why he gave up comics years ago ‘to take up fuckin.’ Pete never solved any of his actual problems, he’s still short tempered, a sex pest, and insecure about himself, but is now the one abusing other people with his scrap of power, just like his dad and probably his brothers did to him.

[reflectionsofacreator]

[takes a long drink from my Arizona iced tea] so like one of the central themes for FFXV is like, growing up, sure. You know that, I know that, whatever. Coming of age, coming into your own, taking the mantle of king, whatever you wanna call it. Cool, awesome, we love a good coming of age story!

But I find the sub theme of that one to be probably the most fascinating? By and large, all the chocobros have to deal with the fallout of being lied to by the adult figures in their lives, and it's the most prevalent with Noctis and Gladio. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of it in Ignis and Prompto too, but the particularly insidious way that Noctis and especially Gladio were lied to sometimes gets me.

See I don't even really think it was actually all that intentional. Not really a conscious act by Regis and Clarus, or the society around them? More like... I dunno, the lies that you get told by your parents as a little kid and you grow up to realize that the world is a lot different than you thought.

That being said, Noctis was absolutely lied to by his father; both about the nature of the King of Light and the idea that he'd succeed Regis as reigning monarch. Regis did it out of love, knowing that Noctis would die young, and reasoned that Noctis should get to have a relatively normal life, but it was still a lie. Gladio, likewise, was lied to by his father and Regis, told that he would be the next monarch's Shield, that he would fulfill a role that's got a pretty set expectation in their society.

See, Gladio expects Noctis to act a certain way, to act as King, and he gets increasingly frustrated when Noctis doesn't, or can't live up to that. He's not precisely wrong to expect it either, given their roles and their statues, and knowing that they're taking the throne during a full blown war. The problem is that Noctis was never taught how to be the thing that Gladio was told Noctis was going to be? And that's what causes friction with them all the time. It's fascinating, watching it play out and realizing the underlying issues with their relationships actually have very little to do with them as people and instead because of what they were told to expect from each other.

Gladio is also his own kettle of fish that I don't think the narrative is quite self aware enough to articulate properly, or even get into. Gladio falls into the trap of toxic masculinity very often -- struggling to articulate his feelings, expressing most of his feelings as anger, picking fights rather than talking about what's going on, using his strength as both a character aspect and bonus, etc. The list goes on. There's also the fact that he's sort of portrayed as a bit of a womanizer and the masculine ideal; tall, rugged, strong, etc which plays into all of that. XV plays him very straight (and straight) with these concepts, and just sort of ... expects it to be fine? Which is at odds with how the other three bros interact and are more emotionally available towards each other, leaving Gladio as one of the weaker bros in canon.

It kind of sucks too, because like, there's so much to unpack with him? His DLC is about wanting to have the strength to protect Noctis on the surface, but really when you look at it... you could also argue that the DLC is about Gladio's fears that he'll end up as dead as his dad did (ha, try that for alliteration) and the crushing weight of failure. Gladio has every right to fear his mortality, fear the fact that he is, nominally, the first in line on the battlefield and the the last defense for Noctis. If Noctis is to die, they will go through him first, and that's! Scary! But the game doesn't really get into that, hardly at all, and it makes picking up the pieces for Gladio kind of frustrating. Out of all the bros, he's the one I have to dig the most to find any kind of depth despite being prime real estate for it.

Anyways Gladio and Noctis' dynamic is fascinating if you actually start to unpack it, especially because it's built on the lies that their fathers fed them as children (that they themselves also bought into). I'd go so far to argue that between the two pairs, Noct/Gladio is in much more of a dire need to sit down and actually hash out what they are to each other, outside of their king/shield dynamic. Noct/Iggy certainly has shades of that, but Ignis has decided that they are friends and that he will defy fate if he must, let the world burn if he must, to save Noct's life. That has some depth beyond king/retainer that they're presented as. Noct/Gladio are sort of just... falling into the king/shield dynamic because they're expected to, and it sort of hampers their relationship and their communication.

I'm gonna scramble them both like eggs, probably into an omelette. They make me Think you know

[missfrustration]

a lesson in semantics and pleasure - part 1 (zoro x sanji x reader 18+ fanfic)

Summary: Sanji finds out Zoro is inexperienced with bedding women. That is quickly fixed.

part 1 part 2

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, smut, threesome, foreplay, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, deepthroating, toxic masculinity, which is good for reader in this context, eiffel tower, spitroasting, biting, praise, degradation, backshots, bukkake, spit, no zosan, no use of y/n

A/n: posted 3 months ago here. reader is NOT walking after this.

wc: 3k, enjoy!

----------------------------

Zoro’s Adam’s apple bobs at the sight he’s treated to. A rock lies in his throat, but he still manages to swallow a groan.

Your legs sprawl out on the bed: Sanji’s bed. You’ve felt the mattress’s crisp, soft sheets countless times before. Now, you’re kissing your lover with another pair of eyes gazing.

Those eyes were hungrier than the lips that took yours, stronger than the tongue that generously swept the insides of your mouth. You could tell that this affected Zoro more than his battles.

You could tell that this was going to be a fantastic night.

-

A few days ago, it was bickering between Sanji and Zoro that happened like every other…

“Watch where you’re going, stupid moss head!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to if your dumb curly brow wasn’t in the way.”

It started like any conversation they had. Bickering and fighting amongst one another, attempts to kick and slice the other, name-calling…

“My brows are just fine. Just admit it; you wish you were as appealing as me.”

“Why would I want to be some lowly waiter like you?”

But it was a conversation where something was made very apparent…

“Let’s see,” Sanji clears his throat, holding his fingers up as he counts them off, “I’m more handsome, I’m smarter, I’m stronger,” Sanji emphasizes each attribute by shoving his fingers in Zoro’s face. “I have every skill in the book to please a woman better than you!”

“Why the hell would I have those things just for a woman?”

“Oh please, with how you are, I bet the young ladies I romance would double—no,— quadruple your count.”

Zoro freezes. Sanji senses he caught a nerve, right where he wants him.

“Hmph, whatever you say.” Zoro pursued his lips, ready to drop the subject and walk away. His firm face and defeated stance just challenge Sanji more.

“Go on then, name them.”

Zoro turns red in the face after a moment of silence. His eyes dart around the room slightly until they watch Sanji’s eyes come to an increasing realization.

“I’ve never… I don’t.” Zoro trails off. 

Something that Sanji truly couldn’t believe…

“Wait, hold on. Nonono,” Sanji waved his hand to shut him up. “Don’t tell me you don’t—“

But Zoro’s face makes it clear. 

… The talking, the courting—the lovemaking . Anything that goes into treating a woman with the utmost respect and dignity—it’s discovered that Zoro knows nothing about that. Sure, maybe he’s bedded a few ladies in his life, but a musclehead really couldn’t know about the opposite sex if he tried.

But Sanji knows. 

Oh, Sanji knows his way around everything that a woman craves. The love, the lust, the things in between. How to make a woman swoon or be respected…

How to make a woman pant, for instance.

Who wouldn’t know but the man who lives and breathes in service to women? The very same gender that Zoro is clueless about. 

What other way to demonstrate a beginner's lesson than with you, a prime example of the perfect learning device? 

—

The kissing turns sloppy as spit starts to sleep from both of your mouths. Sanji pulls his head away, generating a thick string of saliva connected between you, showing off to the man watching it all. Sanji’s lips are shiny with spit as he speaks.

“She loves to be teased in the beginning. Starting with a little foreplay is beneficial for both parties; women especially. We want only the finest for her.” He says to Zoro.

Then Sanji looks straight at you, gauging your reaction as his hand travels to your shorts. He plays with the hem of that tight cloth hugging your thighs, causing you to shift under him. He languidly runs a hooked finger back and forth, almost like he’s intentionally feeling for the seam underneath. You know very well that he’s not.

He’s a tease. Someone who takes great pleasure in watching you squirm as he moves closer and closer to your inner thighs, closer to the apex he loves to put his hands on. This act, along with the small, sly expression he wears on his face always puts you on edge. Never does his eyes leave your face as you struggle to meet him with the same concentration. You feel your gaze slip with each whimper you make, making him drink up more embarrassment from you.

Seeing as you're the only one in the room with a shirt on, Sanji takes it off slowly, letting the hem of it catch on the underside of your breasts. He watches as he drags your breasts up with your shirt until they finally give out, slipping past the hem and bouncing down into place. You hear the chair in the corner shift.

“Lift your hips, love.” A voice so gentle, Sanji is licking his lips when you obey him. His soft, manicured hands travel down your body to the belt loops of your shorts, hooking onto them with a tug. Your shorts and panties come off, leaving nothing but air around your naked form.

“Ah, you see the way she bites her lip? That’s a good way to tell she’s loving every second.” Sanji turns to the swordsman, pointing out your swollen lip trapped between teeth. “Now, watch closely at what I do.”

He gently lifts your chin, thumbing on your lips and pointer finger tucked under your face. He tilts your head towards Zoro, leaning his body toward your ear.

“And you, darling, keep your eyes on the mosshead for me.” 

You grow hot from the soft words that tickle your ear– a newfound love of exhibitionism bubbles inside you when Sanji’s fingers touch your arousal. Zoro watches every single part of this with intense intrigue.

You hear a soft whimper come from your mouth; Then another; Next, a louder one. When Sanji's fingers slip into you, you can barely contain your voice to ring out across the room. He starts to pump into you while you succumb to his small praises.

“Feel my fingers, my darling? You look so pretty like this, using that voice because of me. You must really like showing yourself like this. You see how much she likes that?” Sanji turns to Zoro, demonstrating his usual tricks on you for this lesson. Your song becomes louder as two fingers slowly scissor into you. His pace now increases as he watches your reaction.

Sanji sees your composure crumble, unraveling to the curl of his fingers into you as your eyes flutter closed. 

“Look at him—hey, keep your eyes on him, or I stop. Do you understand? Do you want to be a good girl for me and do what I say? You will, won’t you, angel?”

You snap your eyes open at the soft command of his words, focusing back on the man watching. Your release depended on it, after all. 

“Yes. Yes…”

Sanji’s delicate commands while the man spectates you two are gentle yet calculated. He knows the effect that putting on a show will have on a man like Zoro, and he knows how much you’ve expressed wanting to display your body. You shiver from his orders, only causing you to buck more into his hand.

“This is what happens when you treat her well. Talking to her can make her feel even better, too. Why don’t you call out his name for me, love? Make it sweet.”

“ Zoro… ” 

The voice that comes from your mouth sounds different from the one Zoro’s heard before. The one that sounds so cheerful on the ship is now ladened with lust and pleasure. If the moans you sing sound like sweet honey, your voice calling out his name coats like sugared molasses. They lay so thick on him, making him ache in his pants. 

“ Shit, ” Zoro mutters under his breath. From how hard he grips the armchair, he must be fighting the urge to whip out his cock to the sound of you. You huff at Sanji’s touch but keep your eyes locked on Zoro.

“Say more, please. Use your words,” Sanji says to you. You swallow thickly, and chants of Zoro's name start to flow from you, each increasingly rising in volume as Sanji adds another finger to your clit.

“Please, ah— please , Zoro. I want to cum. Shit, please go faster, Sanji,” You finally manage to say.

“I’ll tell you when you’re ready, love,” Sanji coos. You can only choke down your buildup as his fingers dance in you. 

“During this, you can touch any little part of her body that you want. Like this,” Sanji’s hands caress from your inner thighs to your waist, “or this,” his hands dance up to your face, messily sticking two fingers into your mouth to press on your tongue, “or this.” His fingers pop out, now entranced to your breast, grabbing the fatness of your chest until he rolls your nipple between his moistened fingertips. You whimper from the touch.

“She begs for any extra touch you can give her. My girl is so needy, isn’t she?” He turns to you, enveloping in all your wanton pants. “Aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, yes, I’m your needy… mmmnh! ” Sanji takes his mouth to your nipple briefly, rolling the bud on his tongue. Zoro’s hand moves from the iron grip on the armchair to palm his outer thigh. Is he… sweating?

“She loves all of it, but feel free to check in with her if needed. It’s good to be communicative, especially if you’re unsure of how to keep going.”

You huff into the air, legs fiddling against the sheets from the agony of his teasing. It’s so much that you struggle to keep your eye contact. Sanji revels in finding the right spots inside you to build you up before suddenly stopping. You can do nothing but watch Zoro’s face. 

His eyes couldn’t look away. If the world fell around him, he would never look away from you. The way he knew you on the ship is forever changed when your mouth pants uncontrollably in front of him. He can barely see the smirk that bastard cook has from riling both of you up on one another.

“And what do you want the most, darling? Do you want to cum from my hands, or do you want to have the mosshead to touch you and get an even better reward?”

“I want… Zoro to fuck me, please, please .” You whine against the sheets.

Zoro can’t contain the stuttering cock that twitches in his pants. He doesn’t try to hide it in front of you either. In fact, he seems to revel in that look you give him. You need to try the newest prey–it practically throbs into your mind, as well as your pussy. 

“That’s my girl,” Sanji whispers to you, so softly that only you can hear. “I can’t wait for the next time I have you all to myself,” He turns to the man in the corner, taking his hands off you so quickly that you scrabble your limbs in protest. “Your time to shine, shitty swordsman. She likes it rough, too, so do try and keep the pace.”

Even with Zoro’s commitment to resilience, you can tell he gets up and over to the bed with an urgency you’ve never seen in him. 

Sanji’s presence quickly switches to Zoro’s, and you realize the difference in touch. Calloused fingers replace ones weathered with silk and honey, gripping you with a darkness that matched his gaze. His commanding presence is accentuated by the rough outline of his body, the muscles, and the scars. Purposefully or not, his broad shoulders loom over you without hesitation. 

Your lips lock together; a kiss that you needingly reciprocate. You dance in the mirage of tongues, eating each other whole as you feel your wanton pants build into his mouth. His figure engulfs your smaller one, large and domineering, but that’s exactly what you hoped for.

“Go on. Give her what she wants.” You hear Sanji’s voice from the corner of the room, impatiently commanding Zoro. The sweet tone he uses with you is nonexistent when he talks to the swordsman.

“In a minute,” Zoro growls to him. “She likes to be teased, remember?” 

Sanji scoffs. “Asshole, of course I know that.” You hear him mutter, sitting on the cushy chair Zoro was once planted in.

“Zoro, please…” You didn’t know exactly what you were pleading for, you just wanted relief. 

“I’ll get you there,” a whisper from Zoro’s lips you can barely register from the fuzziness in your brain, “better than that shitty cook can.”

However, his touch doesn’t exactly exhume confidence. Zoro’s hand trembles slightly between caressing your neck, shoulders, and body. His gaze is hungry as he drinks each glimpse of your skin. He doesn’t sound as direct in his tone as you’ve heard in battle.

Maybe you can change that.

“You might be all bark.” You taunt, face slowly forming a smirk. Zoro’s surprised face makes you giggle. 

While a small part of you believes Zoro’s beginner touch may not satisfy you, the way he’s looked at you so far this night tells you he’ll do anything to prove you wrong. He’s too stubborn not to, especially after a little dare like that. Zoro’s small smirk shows you he’s caught onto this.

“Be less of a brat, maybe, and you’ll find out.” Zoro's rough hands grip the small of your waist, causing you to gasp. There’s more confidence in–

Your back arches as you feel a jolt of pain on your chest. Zoro bites on your breast so suddenly it causes you to retract your previous smugness.

“Cook wants to put up with an attitude like that? Fine,” Right on the hardened nipple, Zoro bites it rough enough to make you whine, but he quickly stifles the pain with the rumble of his voice. “But, I’ll be sure to fix that.”

Maybe you would have paid attention to the stream of steam piping from Sanji’s head after Zoro said that, but you were too distracted by Zoro’s movements, especially when he grabbed your hair enough to whip your head back, creating more tension in your chest.

“Pretty fuckin’ tits,” is all Zoro mumbles into your skin. He attacks them, rolling the buds hard between his teeth. Those teeth are strong enough to clamp onto his Wado easily— despite that, his firmness told you he was holding back. You felt your body pulse with titillation, from your scalp you feel the dull pain of his hand gripped in your hair, to his mouth exploring your mounds. It sends shocks through you as you try to stifle the volume of your whimpers. Your body feels so light and heavy at once, making you titter as his pace continues. 

Zoro’s grip on you is dizzying, his firm hands now entirely holding your torso as his body presses right over you. You let him lift your chest into him as he explores your soft skin, worshipping it in the roughest way. 

Your head dips back from the ceiling to the other side of the room. Sanji’s sitting in that same chair from earlier, his cock taken out from his suit slacks and hand slowly stroking the swollen, reddened head. His mouth is agape, small flecks of hair now sticking to his forehead as he looks at your body with a hungry, animalistic gaze.

“Careful, sweetheart. Remember to do what I said.” He smirks and flicks his finger towards Zoro, urging you to focus back. The hand once in your hair is now pulling you to look forward.

“Is someone distracting you from me?” You hear a rough, raw voice rumble right next to your head. Zoro quickly worked up to your neck to your ear, his demanding voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Might be.”

“Am I not good enough for you?” He asks. “Looking for curly fuck to rescue you instead?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. One hand quickly dives between your bodies as he cups your pussy. The gears in your brain seem to short-circuit on you, leaving you gasping for more.

“Can’t be this speechless from him, hm?” His voice is colored with a dark envy, making your entire body swell with arousal. 

“Shut it, marimo.”

The hypersensitivity of your pussy paired with the gruff voice so close to you is too much. You don’t have any other thought than to shut him up with your lips brashly planted on his again. Zoro immediately opens your mouth with an eager tongue, pressing his kneeled body into you. 

Zoro lips separate from you as he keeps going, his plight travels down as he bites and licks the length of your torso. He stops right where his breath ghosts over your pubic bone, making your hips practically buck up to his face for some relief. 

“Uh uh,” Zoro sees what you're trying to do, and presses his thumbs on your hip bone to keep you back down. 

“You need to make her work for it, dumbass,” Sanji says from across the room.

“Well, how do I do that?” Zoro asks, sounding just as annoyed at Sanji.

“You can ask what she wants, first.”

“Why do I need to do that if I already know?”

“Because it helps, just trust me.” Sanji scoffs at him. “God, you’re such a brute.”

Zoro shakes his head, now turning to you.

“So desperate for something, hm? What is it?” He taunts. 

“Please, touch me.” You whisper. 

“’m already touching you, though. Need to be more specific than that, girl.” He grins at you.

“Please…” You struggle to say the words as his fingertips on your hips increase in pressure. He shows no sign of relinquishing his hold until he gets an answer from you. In a soft mewl, you say, “Please… touch my pussy. Please.” Your needy voice cracks into a broken, desperate pant.

Zoro’s playful smirk shows now, realizing why Sanji wanted him to ask you such a demanding question. Puzzle pieces inside Zoro’s mind seem to click the more his hands are on you. At first, he seemed almost nervous in carrying himself, but the more Sanji and you demonstrate the dance that is this game, he seems to catch on. 

“Cook, show me how she wants it.”

-----

Read Part 2 here!

ao3 | tiktok | kofi | masterlist

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Why The Ending Sucks

Ok I figured it out. Hear me out:

The entire comic has a running theme best summed up as "who is controlling the narrative, and why are we listening to them?"

Hussie plays a caricaturized version of himself that he describes as "buffoonish" and "oafish". Caricature!Hussie is well-meaning, but a dumb idiot who's incredibly biased in favor of certain characters and in disfavor of others (the most obvious example being his "love" of Vriska, but there's also the way he constantly disparages Eridan). As a result, you have to be VERY SKEPTICAL and VERY CAREFUL when approaching Homestuck's narration, because even when the "best" narrator is at the helm, he's not 100% trustworthy and incapable of giving the readers an unbiased view of the story.

I say "best" because, importantly, Hussie isn't the story's only narrator. He and Doc Scratch explicitly fight over control of the story - Doc Scratch, the child abusing predator who engineered Alternia's fascist murder society, whose shaping of its history is explicitly described by character!Hussie as "fanfic". He is then killed by Lord English, who is described by Hussie as embodying the "toxically masculine" and by extension, the patriarchy, and Caliborn explicitly takes control of the story. John even grapples with Caliborn's version of events, calling out how sexist and misogynistic and shitty it is.

So if we're keeping score: control over the narrative is LITERALLY wrested away from Hussie (who was already struggling to be unbiased) by fascists, abusers, and the patriarchy. It's stressed multiple times that Caliborn/LE are responsible for literally everything that ever happens; the reason the Game Over timeline ends the way that it does is because the alpha timeline is, in essence, the narrative LE is telling: the forces of fascism get to claim the new universe, thereby propogating itself, while friendship dies and all hope is lost.

Who's in control of the narrative, and why are we listening to them?

There are other minor examples of this, too: Aranea is an exposition fairy, and she's biased as fuck and wrong ALL THE TIME about her own teammates. Karkat's explanations and rationalizations are constantly tinged with his own self-loathing and self-blame. Sollux and Meulin are both prophets as per their Mage class, but are both so bogged down by their own emotional issues that the futures they pick out are actively harmful. So on and so on. At nearly every turn, you have to interrogate who's telling the story, what their motivations are, and what they're overlooking or deliberately obfuscating.

So given that this theme is so prevalent, and so thoroughly weighted toward "well, actually, maybe you shouldn't take narration at face value and should interrogate it and come to your own conclusions," it would be Really Weird for the story to go "actually, you can totally trust the narrative now because everyone gets a happy ending".

So, I know that it makes me sound like a conspiracy theorist, but here's my genuine take on Homestuck's ending:

The ending is shitty on purpose because the viewer is intended to take it as a dare to refute the narration and make something better.

Why are we letting character!Hussie tell the story? He's a biased idiot. Why are we letting the various avatars of LE and Caliborn tell the story? They're fascist, misogynistic, predatory assholes.

And - because Homestuck is a story about life - why are we letting idiots, assholes, abusers, and creeps dictate the story of real life? The world is full of forces that would try to take control of the story and make everyone else play along, represented in microcosm within the text of Homestuck. We cannot let those forces win.

So please go out and do something kind and hopeful and loving in the world today. Thanks for reading.

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Hello! I have a request. Can I have some head canons about how La Squadra would react if you were disrespected by someone? Let’s say their s/o (preferably female) works at a cafe or restaurant and a rude customer throws the money at her, completely expecting her to pick up the bill from the floor (yes, that is a real experience I’ve had, unfortunately).

How would they react? What would they do afterwards or say?

Would really, REALLY appreciate it. Honestly, I wish someone had stood up for me back then.

Author’s note: Hey hey~

Thanks for the request~

Sorry no one stood up for you, what happened to human decency?

And I can totally relate, the entitlement of people is insane. Two days in to my very first job as a cashier I had a customer say some really atrociously awful things to me and I just took it because I didn’t know what else to do and afterwards my managers told me I should’ve called them wow. Like my manager literally wouldn’t repeat what the customer had said because it was so abhorrently inappropriate and disgusting.

So yeah. Respect employees, we’re all human beings here it’s literally so easy to Not be insanely rude.

Interestingly enough I actually had some thoughts on this written in my personal La Squadra notes, particularly in regard to Prosciutto since he gives me lots of thoughts about stuff similar to that, cool that I get to address that heh.

-La Squadra x female reader: When someone disrespects you

Content, PLZ READ: female reader who works as a waitress, discussion of unhealthy and toxic masculinity paired with sexism (Prosciutto), La Squadra is a group of (mostly) pretty aggressive men who act on that feeling so. Some canon compliant aggression, threats, violence and blood. They’re a group of assassins so Lots of Bad men doing bad things. Melone’s slightly perverse tendencies

Various scenarios involving rude customers, including the example in the ask.

Established relationship: dating/married depending on the character

Ok while writing this it’s finally really hitting me how bizarre it’d be to be a non stand user witnessing or experiencing a stand attack-

Reader is aware of stands and that her La Squadra man is a member of the Mafia

And attempts at Italian hopefully it’s correct but if not please lemme know!

Micro fics style

-Formaggio: Out of all the members of La Squadra he’s noticeably much more chill and relaxed than the others. But he’s still a proud member of the Italian Mafia. And you’re his girl. He’s no knight in shining armor or Prince Charming for you, he won’t intervene when there’s an occasional irritable customer giving you a bit of a hard time. He knows you can take care of yourself.

However, if some entitled customer has the audacity to go too far and say or do something Really disrespectful while he’s around, I think he has a preference for good old-fashioned humiliation, and only results to intimidation if they decide they wanna keep making a fool of themselves.

He plays it up like: “ooh, hey, if you wanted that pretty lady’s attention there are much better ways to get it, buddy.”

You don’t have to add anything. You resume work quietly, but keep your eyes and ears focused on him, in case he decided to get carried away.

After a little bit of back and forth with him using his usual coolness and charisma, the offender gets increasingly frustrated and flustered.

When your boyfriend’s finally had enough of this stupid game he stands up from his table. His playfully mocking expression remains, but his smirk shifts ever so slightly into something more sinister. “If you want we could just take this outside,” he says it so casually, with the tone of a man who wasn’t going to hold back if it actually did escalate into a fight. He was not bluffing at all either.

At full height and with the clear confidence that he was absolutely gonna win the fight, the rude customer wisely decides Formaggio was Not someone he wanted to mess with and awkwardly leaves the restaurant, Formaggio loudly exclaiming taunts as the guy skittered away with his tail between his legs.

He seems awfully pleased with himself after “defending your honor” like that. You let him enjoy that feeling, because honestly that was pretty well done and it didn’t get too ugly. He has some nerve expecting a bunch of praise from you for that though.

-Illuso: Someone saying or doing something rude to you is like insulting him as well. And his stand is uniquely qualified for an entertaining punishment against some arrogant idiot giving you a difficult time.

Illuso doesn’t say anything, but when you look over at him while some jerk is screaming his head off at you like it’s your fault his food took five minutes longer than usual to arrive, you see that he’s pretending to fix up his appearance in a fancy compact mirror you had gifted him on your one year anniversary.

You can tell immediately he’s actually angling it at the guy screaming at you so he can activate Man in the Mirror. You inwardly groan because honestly you welcome your husband’s interference, but it will be difficult to explain a man magically disappearing in the middle of a restaurant, especially while he’s causing such a scene with that excessive screeching.

All of a sudden…silence. Such a sudden silence that the sound of Illuso clasping his mirror shut is audible to you from where you’re standing. Of course all the customers were looking at that guy who was freaking out at you. And he literally vanished before their eyes. So you do the only thing you can think of and spread your arms in an exaggerated manner and go: “Ta-DAAAH~” like the supernatural disappearance was just a magic trick.

In a rather weak attempt to sell it, Illuso starts slowly clapping for you and commenting: “molto bene~”. You can’t muster an annoyed glare at him; the slight smile tugging at your lips gave you away. A few customers join him in clapping, a bit confused, but honesty just glad that the yelling has stopped.

Illuso’s version of torment is to leave the guy completely alone in the mirror world. Confusion combined with isolation is a cruel combination, and given his captor was Illuso who was absolutely bound to prolong the punishment because of his sadistic tendencies, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

“Make sure you let him go by this evening,” you remind him before you get back to work.

“Let who go, dearie?” he says, his acting pathetically bad.

Sigh. So he was going to play it that way…

“I’m serious,” you grumble.

“Me too.”

You meet his eyes at that remark, and his smug smirk tells you he wants to see if you’ll keep nagging him about it.

When you don’t indulge him he’ll get bored and let the guy go. Hopefully that brat learned a lesson. And if not, at least he has a story literally no one will believe.

-Prosciutto: Despite not being a very nice man to you, he’s got that ridiculous belief that only he’s allowed to be harsh to you. It’s “tough love” when he’s hyper critical of you or snaps at you for something small, but if anyone else does it to an excessive degree then it’s apparently unacceptable, rude behavior. Really it’s just his pride as a man and unhealthy view of masculinity that causes him to freak out when you’re disrespected. He’s your fiancé…By his logic, you need him to protect you, and it’s his job as a man to do so.

He’s a big hypocrite.

But at least he stands up for you.

You could usually feel Prosciutto watching when a customer started to get a little ornery with you. He wouldn’t always step in, unless something he deemed entirely disrespectful was said or done; he does think dealing with irritable people is okay for you until they get carried away.

It looked like he wasn’t going to intervene this time over the dirtbag being extraordinarily picky and fussy with you, just because he liked bossing essential workers around apparently. Prosciutto was listening, as usual, but didn’t seem too concerned, drinking his coffee disinterestedly. Until the customer decided to toss a crumpled up napkin at you when you turned around.

Ohhh boy, you didn’t even have to LOOK to know the coffee mug getting slammed down on a table was Prosciutto.

You debate what you should do. He strides past you, and you opt to just…hold still and listen for a moment. Pretend you don’t know him, and let him do whatever it is he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess what it is).

Despite all the tough talk he was doing before, that customer couldn’t hide the slight panic in his voice at Proscuitto’s sudden approach.

Unlike a lot of Passione members who preferred to hide their affiliation to the mafia, Prosciutto wasn’t nearly as subtle with that tailored suit, open shirt and the demeanor of a man who’s killed before and will kill again.

“Hey who the hell do you think you are?! Stay away from m-” the jerk’s nervous ranting is cut off by Prosciutto dragging him to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“You dropped something,” Prosciutto says in that certain tone you’ve grown all too familiar with. He uses it often when he’s pissed off or teaching a lesson or both at the same time.

Before the man can even squeak out the beginnings of some sort of excuse or counter he’s gagging, and you turn around to stop Prosciutto from straight up choking the guy by shoving the same napkin he tossed at you down his throat, speaking about how disgustingly disrespectful it was to throw anything at a woman.

“Hey, I think he gets it,” you cut in.

You wonder if he’s actually gonna listen to you this time. For a moment it seems like he might ignore you and continue the lesson. But he decides you may have a point and that he’s not worth the trouble. Though it doesn’t stop him from roughly shoving the guy to the ground when he lets go of his shirt.

“Make sure you add an apology when you pay the check,” he says to the sniveling man on the floor desperately telling himself not to make a run for it like a coward now that Prosciutto’s back was turned.

You don’t know whether to smile or roll your eyes, knowing all your fiancé meant was that he better leave you a generous tip as compensation for such disrespectful behavior.

“Go smoke outside,” is all you say to him when you see Prosciutto reach for the pack of cigarettes in his jacket. He smoked when he was especially irritated; so he went through a lot of cigarettes. He waves his hand dismissively at you, but obeys and goes outside. Though he stays close to the entrance. He’s making it clear he’s not leaving til you’re getting paid well for all that trouble.

The guy ended up practically handing his wallet to you.

Prosciutto internally checks off his: do one good thing for his fiancée today mission.

-Pesci: He’s not the most confrontational of La Squadra, and there’s no love lost between the murderous members of the team beyond a mild respect for each other’s strength (and that’s only sometimes) but he’s more than familiar with how most of the other assassins handle disrespect or things they don’t like in public with violence and aggression (hard glares at Ghiaccio and Prosciutto in particular). And that usually results in them getting asked to leave the premises, how embarrassing-

He doesn’t want to embarrass you either when a particularly volatile customer started screaming at you and freaking out for no valid reason. But he can’t just sit there and let you take that kind of abuse either.

He tries to excuse you from the situation by calling you over to his table like he was a customer and it was something urgent. And well…it might just escalate the irritation of that insufferable jerk screaming at you but…

You go to Pesci anyways, opting to just ignore the jerk, pretending to be busy dealing with some made up issue Pesci was improvising.

To your surprise it actually kinda worked. The guy was steaming for a bit and yelling at you from his table but. You just ignored him. And if anything actually happened Pesci was 100% capable of handling it if he had to. He didn’t usually try to start fights, but if pushed he could absolutely finish them.

“Do you usually get customers like that?” Pesci asks with genuine concern in his voice once the guy finally gets mad enough to leave (without paying but that was a problem for later).

“Well…” more often than someone who doesn’t work in food service would think…

“Sometimes,” you admit vaguely, not wanting to worry him but not wanting to lie either.

He thinks you should find some different job, not that he’s actually in a position to suggest that given he’s literally a La Squadra assassin. And you’ve heard from the few times you’ve met with his coworkers that the money they make in the business of murder is minuscule all things considered. Honestly he should get a new job too. One that didn’t rely on the occasional commission and splitting a check with eight other people.

You both know it’s not that easy to just Find a new job. And he doesn’t think it’s a great idea to suggest you get more involved in Passione for quick but dirty money…sigh…no easy solution…

-Melone: Your boyfriend was the least confrontational man in La Squadra.

Usually you encourage him to not visit you at work…because he always stares at you in such a manner that your coworkers or customers sometimes warn you about a creep in the corner booth who’s been watching you for a while.

As someone who’s used to being yelled at (though only because he’s the one being a FREAK so it doesn’t Really count) he’s sure you can handle the occasional ornery customer who decided to raise their voice at you. He usually intervened only if you directly requested it, because more often than not you got annoyed at him for worming his way into your other problems. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice when he’s typing on his laptop at the restaurant you work at and someone starts destructively causing a scene all because you brought them the wrong brand of soda by accident. It’s been a long day, you’re tired, you’re working the evening shift and the restaurant’s about to close. So you don’t bother to try and appease this guy, you know he’ll just complain and give you a hard time no matter what you do. And he apparently took your: “I’m sorry, let me grab you the right one,” as disingenuous and insulting, because you didn’t call him “Sir”. You really don’t feel like dealing with this, and you’re about to just let it go until he has the audacity to knock the soda off the table and onto the floor, staining the floor and even getting soda all over your shoes.

God…just to humiliate you over something small-you find yourself quietly staring at the floor for a moment, trying to register what you should even do…bend over right now to try to salvage your shoes before the soda dried? You had napkins in your pocket. But then the damn customer won…

And you know Melone was watching everything. He’s so invested that he’s stopped typing.

Melone’s no gentleman, and has no shame, but he can’t just let someone get away completely with disrespecting his girlfriend…especially given he had bought those cute shoes for you!

You can only mumble Melone’s name quietly when he approaches the situation, his demeanor energized despite how late it was. You weren’t gonna deny him stepping in but saying his name was a warning not to be too weird.

He clicks his tongue, making a point to not even look at the jerky customer, like he wasn’t there, and focuses all his attention on you.

“You know those shoes weren’t cheap, tesoro mio,” he chides playfully, immediately plucking off some napkins from the customer’s table and kneeling in front of you so he can wipe your shoes clean himself.

You bite your lip. It might seem gentlemanly to onlookers, but you knew he was also using the opportunity to get close to your legs in public. But he manages to behave himself, even putting a few napkins over the spill on the floor once he’s done with your shoes.

When he finally stands back up, he makes a point of leaning very close with an especially devious look on his face.

“What a shame,” he says in a strangely exaggerated tone. “I think I’ll have to buy you a new pair of shoes…”

You just give him a confused look after reminding him you’re on the clock when he leans in for a kiss.

Then he wanders off. But at least he distracted the customer enough to dampen the worst of the disrespectful behavior.

You finish your shift. Melone was waiting for you outside with his motorcycle, as he’s your ride back to your shared apartment.

He looks especially pleased with himself.

“What’d you do this time?” you sigh and yawn, too tired to feel especially concerned with whatever he might’ve done.

“Your next pair of shoes is going to be Especially nice…I’ll even get you a pretty dress to go with them~” he licks his lips.

Under the dim light of the street lamp, you finally notice the wallet that he’s holding up. It isn’t his.

His little kneeling act by the table with the rude customer apparently had many purposes…your boyfriend really was quite a sly opportunist…

“Melone…” you were gonna chide him gently for taking the guy’s Entire wallet but…it was too late to start arguing with him, given he was your ride home. And you didn’t care too much about it in the first place, especially right now.

-Ghiaccio: Everything ticks him off so when you’re working you don’t mind if he doesn’t bother to stop by and say hi even when he’s in the area. He tends to get worked up about something minuscule even during quick visits. And your restaurant is quite popular with tourists, who he has a borderline obsessive type of hatred for. Yeah. You were okay with him NOT visiting you while you were working because inevitably one day he was gonna cause quite a scene-

You feel a very ironic cold shiver down your spine when you catch sight of a familiar red Mazda Miata going way too fast in the parking lot looking for a space to park.

“Dios mio…I don’t need this today…” you mumble to yourself, not realizing a particularly entitled customer was watching you act distracted for a moment by looking at a car from the window.

When you get to his table, you don’t really know what he’s yapping about when he says waitresses these days are SO ditzy and aren’t properly trained. You’re not listening too hard because you’re watching Ghiaccio walk past the window on his way into the restaurant. He gives you an acknowledging glance when he spots you, and it pisses off the customer even more because now he’s complaining about how completely unprofessional it was that you invited your boyfriend into the restaurant while you were working. You have no idea where this guy is even getting all these assumptions, or what was even so terribly wrong with the scenario he’s making up, so you don’t pay it much attention and just brush it off as the customer’s eccentric personality trait.

Until he says that if you were going to be disrespectful by inviting your boyfriend to work, you might as well look busy.

What a freaking idiot, waiting for Ghiaccio to walk in to the restaurant before literally throwing the money for his meal at you, completely expecting you to pick up all the bills.

Ghiaccio doesn’t even need to know the context to react (though it’s probably for the best he didn’t hear what started it because it’d just piss him off even more).

“Hey, hey, hey…” Ghiaccio’s voice from the entrance can be heard from half way inside the restaurant. “If you meant to give the money to her, it’d be MUCH more efficient for both of you if you just HANDED it to her, you freaking moron-“

Oh God, here we go…Ghiaccio wasn’t screaming quite at full volume as he speed walked to where you were standing, his hands twitching slightly, either oblivious or simply ignoring all the customers exchanging nervous glances as they watched him. He has to be literally the WORST AND the EASIEST member of his entire team to piss off…and when he got like this he sometimes didn’t even listen to you.

The customer glares at him, and dares to open his mouth to respond, but Ghiaccio’s rant wasn’t over and it just pisses him off even more to see the guy had the audacity to try and interrupt him.

“Ghia, hey-”

Yeah he was definitely not gonna listen to your attempt to calm him down. You wonder if he even heard you because he grabbed the guy by the back of the head while you were talking.

“IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY DAMN SENSE WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT! I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT OF THROWING MONEY ALL OVER THE GROUND?! YOU JUST GET OFF WATCHING HER WASTE A BUNCH OF TIME PICKING THAT ALL UP?!”

Was he…more pissed about the illogical nature of the behavior or the fact that you were being disrespected…?…It’s kinda hard to tell…this ornery yapper on even more ornery yapper violence was Quite a scene this early in the morning…

“DON’T YOU HAVE A LIFE, IDIOT? OR DID YOU GO OUT JUST TO KILL TIME BY POINTLESSLY INCONVENIENCING A WAITRESS?! YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE BUT SHE’S GOT AN ACTUAL JOB TO DO AND DOESN’T HAVE TIME TO PLAY 52 CARD PICKUP WITH ENTITLED JERKS LIKE YOU!”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that most people would be mortified to watch their boyfriend completely lose it like this in public, you’re so used to it at this point; you’re thinking about how it’s a bit hypocritical of him given how you’ve witnessed him Also going off on a poor server for nothing.

“GHIACCIO!” you finally make yourself shout, reaching out and grabbing the wrist of the arm he was using to hold the panicking rude customer by the back of the head.

You know Ghiaccio. He was about to slam that man’s head on the table.

“WHAT?!” he snaps, but when he whips his head, you can tell the raging blizzard of his soul wavered just a bit when he looked at you.

“Don’t…you’ll break the table, they’re flimsy…”

His physical strength always astounded you, given he wasn’t particularly large, and he wasn’t even resisting your hand on his wrist but you could still feel the power in his arm. “You already made your point…” you whisper, worried about getting in trouble for the scene he was causing.

“BUT-“

“Thank you, it’s okay…”

He REALLY has to debate it, but reluctantly releases the man with an irritated huff and an audible growl. Such a lucky guy…you were one of the few people who could get Ghiaccio to think before taking something too far.

“Is your shift almost over?” he asks, clearly still incredibly irritated, tapping his foot rapidly against the ground.

“About fifteen minutes to go.” You glance at the trembling rude customer, gazing wide eyed and flinching every time Ghiaccio moved in any way.

He checks his watch and the customer climbs further into the booth out of fear of the simple gesture, but Ghiaccio is forcing himself not to pay him any mind.

“I’ll wait for you in the car then.”

“Alright.”

As long as he left the restaurant…

Now everyone knew he was definitely with you in some capacity…damn.

He sends a pointed glare to a couple of the customers on the way out. A “gentle reminder” to keep manners in mind.

And when you give the rude customer one last look, you see he’s on the ground picking up the money he had tossed at you.

He’s trembling a bit. Probably from fear of Ghiaccio changing his mind and coming back to actually break his face. But he’s probably a bit cold too, just from coming into physical contact with Ghiaccio could leave anyone with a chill if he partly activated his stand while touching someone.

You really needed to have a chat with him about his temper but as the previously inconsiderate customer blubbers out apologies and begs you to protect him from your scary boyfriend while shoving the money (and a generous tip) directly into your hands you hesitantly decide today is not the day.

-Risotto Nero: He doesn’t go out in public often, but minus the whole “leader of an assassination division in the mafia with a truly frightening appearance” he’s a pretty normal guy. Keeps to himself and stoic, but he can hold a conversation. You’re fine with him not visiting you at work often, you get that he’s super busy, but when he does stop by you’re glad to see him (and he doesn’t cause any scenes. Bonus points for Risotto).

It was a slow morning for you, and he had finished an early morning mission earlier than he had expected. He even checked to make sure the diner you worked at wasn’t busy before he decided to stop in and see you.

Your face lights up when you see him, running over to him and giving him a quick hug, and bringing him a small cup of coffee on the house, allowing yourself a brief moment of respite to speak with your boyfriend. It wasn’t busy yet…there were only two other customers, but it was just your luck that one of them woke up on the wrong side of the bed and decided to come over and give you a hard time for taking a moment to spend with Risotto.

“Does your boss pay you to flirt with customers?”

You can’t even believe someone really came over just to say that to you. You weren’t even sitting down to talk to Risotto, and it’s not like you were being loud or obnoxious or anything.

“She’s doing her job,” Risotto points out with that signature stoic nature. The guy seems slightly put off by Risotto’s unique appearance, but was apparently in a bad enough mood to not back down so easily.

“If she was doing her job she’d be bringing me a refill and not wasting her time chatting with a guy she already served,” he points out indignantly. What an insane level of entitlement…Risotto seemed to think the same thing, though he wasn’t a fan of escalating things.

But this guy…he had some audacity talking to you like that.

Risotto puts his hands on the table, and stands up slowly, deliberately, to his full height, tilting his head slightly to better look the smaller man in the eyes.

“She’s just being polite,” Risotto corrects the man. His voice is still calm, but his speaking speed is Slightly slower. Paired with him purposefully emphasizing his full height, the warning that he wasn’t going to stay civil for much longer was clear.

The unwanted visitor inwardly debates for a moment, visibly shaken from Risotto’s intimidation but absolutely too embarrassed to just back off now.

He foolishly decides to keep going.

“She-” he’s cut off by an almost explosive gush of blood coming out of his own nose. You gasp at the suddenness, but instantly realize what’s happening. He slams his hand over his nose, the blood not stopping that easily, almost immediately leaking through his fingers.

“Oh…” Risotto remarks with obviously fake concern, leaning in as if he were examining the “mysterious” nosebleed. “You’d better take care of that before you get blood all over the place…” he states the obvious with complete unconcern.

It was admittedly a bit funny to watch that jerk sprint to the restroom clutching his bloody nose.

There is a minuscule tug to the edges of Risotto’s lips.

“Risotto! Sudden unexplainable nosebleeds aren’t funny at all,” you chide, despite not feeling an ounce of pity. It’s not like Risotto was trying to kill that guy, if he was he would be bleeding out on the ground right now. The goal was just to embarrass him a bit, and he definitely succeeded.

“I think that was just a suitable divine punishment,” Risotto replies with a shrug, as if his stand, Metallica, had nothing to do with it. It’s subtle but…you can tell he’s irritated someone really had that kind of nerve to bother you for no reason. But you won’t let it ruin his whole day, reminding him that you got off work early today and you’ve been really excited to finally have some free time to spend with him.

Author’s closing note: I hope this could bring you some entertainment~it was enjoyable to write and consider how a few of them could use their stands to mess with people but wow I was being sent back to my first job on occasion with some of these customer characters, sheesh-

[demonpiratehuntress]

I adored ‘love me again’!!! So I will honor your request for more OPLA!Sanji prompts 😁

How about OPLA Sanji and celebrating the victory over Arlong?

i'm glad you liked it! and thank you for the ask! :D

taglist - @kabloswrld

a much-needed break

OPLA!Sanji x F!Reader

summary - the crew beats Arlong and his crew, and you're happy to take some time off to celebrate, especially with a certain cook.

warnings - none

a/n - poor guy, when Nami ran past him to hug Usopp and Zoro, i wanted to give him a hug :(

"Wait, where's (Name)?"

At the call of your name, your head popped up from behind a rock. Exhausted and sore, you rose to your feet and approached your worried crewmates.

"Here."

Sanji was about to say something, starting to walk over, when Nami came running towards you guys. The cook opened his arms with a big smile, but the orange-haired navigator ran right past him to hug you, Zoro and Usopp. You caught the way his face fell, and when Nami pulled away you went over to wrap your arms around his neck.

He instantly cheered up, offering you a charming smile, "Hi."

"Hi," you smiled back.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just smiling at each other with your arms around his neck and his hands on your waist. Your moment was only interrupted by the sound of a building crumbling, and you all turned and watched in horror as Arlong's stronghold collapsed, with Luffy still inside.

For a scary few seconds there was no sign of life, Then, miraculously, Luffy emerged from the wreckage and grinned down at you all.

"Nami!" He called out. "You are our friend! We are your crew!"

You turned to look at the navigator, who was covering her mouth with tears in her eyes. You put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she offered you a grateful smile.

-

Celebrations kicked in not long after, with the people of Coco Village overjoyed to be free from the menacing chokehold of Arlong. The crew stayed to celebrate, and to allow Nami to reconnect with her estranged sister.

You were sitting with Usopp and giggling at the exaggerated tale he was telling you of his defeat of Choo - the big-lipped fishman.

"And then he got all scared when he got a taste of my exploding stars, and started begging for mercy-"

"Was this before or after you played dead to trick him?" You asked, amused.

"Uhhhh, before...?"

You just laughed some more, before your attention turned to where Sanji was dishing out food he made for the joyous event. Zoro was approaching him, and you nudged Usopp and pointed in their direction. The two of you usually had a field day making fun of the toxic masculinity both men exhibited, and today was no exception.

As the two exchanged words neither of you could hear, you both watched in disappointment as Sanji just laughed at the swordsman before he walked away.

"That was anti-climactic."

"So disappointing," you agreed.

"You two wouldn't happen to be talking about me and the swordsman, would you?" A cheeky voice asked from behind you.

At once, the sharpshooter was up and gone, stammering out some excuse of needing to entertain the kids of Coco Village with his exciting stories of adventures that never really happened.

"Usopp!" You protested, sighing as the cook laughed and took Usopp's place next to you. "That traitor."

You felt the familiar feeling of butterflies blooming in your stomach crept up on you, and you tried your hardest not to let the closeness of his body to yours elicit a flustered reaction from you. You didn't want him to know just how much his presence affected you.

"Does my arguing with the oafish swordsman amuse you often?" He asked you, sounding amused himself.

"And if I say it does?" You finally met his gaze, teasing him.

"Then I'll be happy something good comes out of having to interact with him," the cook answered, pairing his words with something between a satisfied smirk and a charming smile.

That response and his smile earned a deep blush from you, "Oh yeah? What a romantic."

"That's what I've been saying!" He agreed. "I can be very romantic. If only someone would give me a chance to prove that." He smiled innocently, but the insinuation burned your cheeks more.

"And who's that someone?" You played innocent. "They sound very mean." And that's where you got him, because everyone knew he would rather die than badmouth you or Nami.

"I-well-"

"I thought so," you laughed, enjoying the flustered look on his face. "But maybe today's your lucky day. You should ask again."

His eyes lit up when you said that, and stood up eagerly, holding a hand out to you, "Then may I have this dance?"

"Dance?" You looked around, "But no one else is dancing!"

"Yes they are," he pointed to where a bunch of kids were holding hands and dancing in a circle together.

"Those are kids!" You laughed, "You want me to dance like that?"

"It'll be fun! We all needed this break anyway."

"Who's 'we'? You joined five minutes ago!" You teased.

He playfully rolled his eyes, and grabbed your hands to pull you up, "Come on, smart mouth. For that comment, you have to dance with me like those kids."

You just shook your head with a smile, letting him drag you towards an open space. As he linked both your hands with his and began to spin you and sway you every which way, you couldn't help but laugh as your body melted into the moment, syncing with his every move.

"See? Is this so bad?" Sanji asked, smiling so wide that the top of his head might as well have fallen off.

"Okay this is really fun actually," you admitted, then buried your face in his neck. "But people are staring."

His heart skipped a beat when you held him like this, and he had to take a moment to calm his racing heart before he responded, "If they're staring at anything, it's you, sweetheart. Not the dancing."

Your cheeks burned again, the butterflies from earlier returning, "You don't know that."

"Actually I think I would know better than anyone, since I find myself staring at you more often than not," he admitted unabashedly, with a proud smile.

"You do?" You pulled back slightly to look up at him, cheeks red.

"You already know this," he chuckled.

"Maybe I like hearing it," you replied, voice a little softer.

"Well then I'll remind you as many times as you like."

The look of adoration he was giving you coupled with his sweet and gentle tone lured you in until your lips were almost touching. With one nod of consent from you, they met in an explosion of bliss.

Sanji could have kissed you forever, and it was not an exaggeration. It felt so good to finally have your lips on his, he wished he didn't have to pull away. Alas, you both did have to breathe at some point.

"Seems like it was my lucky day," he grinned at you, planting soft little kiss on your forehead. He encased you in his arms, and just held you.

You laughed and relaxed into his grip, just as happy to stay like this as he was. The two of you swayed a bit for a few more moments before retreating back to your seats, finding a smirking Nami taking Berry from a defeated Usopp.

"Did you guys seriously bet on us?" You asked, laughing as you took a seat next to the navigator.

"Only because I knew I'd win," was her reply, smug as she pocketed the money.

You rolled your eyes with an amused smile on your face. Beside you, Sanji just laughed and laid an arm across your shoulders. You let her have the small victory, because today was about her finally conquering the fishman that had held her village captive for so long.

For the rest of the evening, you were content to just sit with the cook and watch everyone celebrate.

That is, of course, until Luffy's grandfather decided to intervene.

[tealvenetianmask]

Hell's royalty has a culture that enables Stella's abusive behavior.

Point 1: Keeping up appearances is valued above all else. And I specifically mean the appearance of things being the way they're supposed to be. Conformity basically.

Conformity in this culture seems to include a kind of stoic dignity ("you know excitement is unbecoming of a goetia"), an air of superiority ("don't bow to that one- he bows to us!"), and, of course, some good old fashioned toxic masculinity ("cease this bitch crying").

Individuals at the very top are not immune. Even though he gets past it, Asmodeus seems to spend a lot of time and effort on keeping his relationship with Fizz quiet in order to keep up the appearance of fulfilling his "lust" role.

Point 2: The members of the aristocracy who don't conform are seen as the problem, not the members who are being cruel.

Speaking of Ozzie, there's a chance he'll face real consequences for getting out of line . . . Mammon seems pretty confident about getting revenge. Also, if Ozzie had decided that his reputation was important enough to avoid stepping in to help his partner, well . . . I'm just saying. Cultures of conformity create bystanders who stand by and let abuse happen. So it's good that this guy has the courage (and a good heap of privilege and power) to enable him to step out. Yes, I realize that the crowd at Mammon's celebrated Ozzie and Fizz, but the crowd was distinctly NOT aristocratic.

Now look at Stella's party- this woman is not subtle about being cruel to her husband.

She calls the party a "Not Divorced" party. She openly talks negatively about Stolas in a blatant attempt to humiliate him. She's not trying to hide that she hates the man.

Because he's . . . an oddball. Gentle, not as polished as others in his social sphere, awkward and mostly friendless, probably autistic. And importantly, I think, not traditionally masculine.

So Stella has no need to hide that she treats him poorly. She's proud of it. And her social circle seems to support her in it, or at least, they don't push back. Because based on the aristocracy's unspoken (or if we look at Paimon, very much spoken) value system, Stolas's failure to fulfill all of his expected roles gracefully is worse than Stella's cruelty.

Point 3: Stolas's parenting, while much better than his own father's, still reflects this value system in some ways, and that's . . . complicated.

In some ways, Octavia is doing great. She has her own interests (music! gothy fashion!) that don't seem to be based on any role prescribed to her by others. She has a genuine bond with her dad that's based on care and not on molding her into some ideal princess.

But Stolas still puts on an facade in front of Via. We know that he pretended things were fine when they distinctly weren't for most of her childhood. We could argue endlessly about whether Stolas was right (as Georgia Dow explained in her video) or wrong to stop himself from explaining the situation with Stella to Via in Loo Loo Land, but honestly, the man could let his nearly grown up daughter know that abuse was happening without all out trauma dumping. It would enable her to make more informed decisions, and I think she would want to be able to do that.

Instead, Stolas keeps it to himself. Because he feels like Via SHOULD have this picture perfect childhood. Look at the pictures that are up in his palace. Look at his attempt to gloss over the fighting in the household by taking Via to an idealized childhood destination.

A part of him still thinks that good parenting is keeping up appearances, and that the ugly things are best kept hidden. Look at how hard he still tries to avoid crying in front of people. The values he was taught as a child are part of him.

And while it's not his fault (it's Stella's fault, obviously- these are HER actions), his inability to be open allows Stella and Andrealphus to scheme and (we'll see . . .) probably manipulate Via because of her lack of knowledge.

We're meant to see the moments where Stolas breaks expectations and behaves raw and even a little unhinged as triumphant. Sleeping with Blitz. That is the sound of a fucking divorce. Actually going through with the fucking divorce. Insisting on it. Appearances be damned.

And yeah, more of that please. Because if the people around Stella stop caring about aristocratic social trappings, all she'll have going for her is her shitty personality.

Thanks @akirathedramaqueen for inspiring this post with a conversation.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#208

“You know there are times that I just want to come home from being on the road and enjoy a scotch, a full-flavored cigar, and a nice long blowjob….

“That’s what my bitch cunt ex-wife gave me.  It was about the only time she’s even tolerable, which is why she’s my ex.  Now, most of the time I need to fuck something, and not just fuck, but fuck the hell out of something. 

“I had a regular faggot cunt for that.  Key word there is ‘had.’  The fucker had the audacity to tell me that the only thing it was getting from me out of our arrangement was toxic masculinity.  I smacked it across the face, kicked it in the balls, and walked out the door.  Fuck!  Toxic masculinity my ass.  That fag didn’t have a problem with that when I had it in the back of my semi with my ten-inch cock buried in its cunt. 

“So faggot here we are.  And I’m calling you Faggot going forward.  Unless you are signing over your paycheck to me, I don’t need to know your name. 

“All that matters is that since I have been here your eyes can’t look away from my cock bulge.  We both know that my cock rules everything.  I’ve been thinking with my dick for 47 years now, and I ain’t changing.  So faggot, if you have a problem with toxic masculinity, speak up now.  Didn’t think so.  You are just another faggot that wants to swing on a real man’s cock.  I can see that you have pretty much nothing between your legs.  How tiny is that clit?  Four and a half?  Naaa, it’s three inches at most.  If anyone ever asks, you tell them that you have three inches only. 

“It’s not like you are going to use it for anything other than to pee.  Speaking of which, you sit to pee.  Real men stand… well, when I’m not pissing into a faggot.  You will be expected to drink all my piss….  You know, I don’t want to go through a list of things that you will do for me.  Let me just say you will be expected to do many things.  Many things.  I’ll tell you the limits you will have, and fuck any idea of creating a safe word. 

“Look, I may be a selfish asshole trucker with a ten-inch cock, but I am not a psycho.  My dick gets real hard knowing I am entitled to do whatever I want to you without asking you.  If I wanted to take a dump in your mouth, I’m going to.  Aww don’t look panicked.  I find that gross too.  But if ever I wanted to do it, I’m fucking doing it. 

“You have a nice set up here.  I like the separate entrance for your basement.  This will suit me fine.  Make a set of keys for me for my next visit.  I don’t give a shit that your stuff is on that half of the room.  I plan on using this as a crash pad.  Maybe bring home some other fag or bitch to fuck.  And I am saying this now, don’t you dare show any jealousy.  In fact, you should be turned on knowing my cock is getting serviced.  And always beg to clean off my cock whenever I fuck someone else.  That’s the only decent thing to do…. 

“Fuck your eyes can’t look away from my cock.  I like that.  My cock should always be your focus.  Only my cock too.  You are giving up all other men for me.  As I just mentioned before, I won’t do the same. 

“Reach over and touch my cock through my pants.  Big isn’t it?  It’s getting harder.  You know what makes it really hard?  This.  A face slap.  Faggot, your face was made for my hand.  With. Every. Fucking. Slap. My. Dick. Gets. Harder.  Fuck yeah.  There are many reasons why a man would slap a faggot like you, but at the core, it’s just to remind you that you are inferior in every way.  Fuck!  That’s sure getting me ready to fuck your cunt.

“You know, I don’t like your beard and stache.  Shave them off for my next visit.  In fact, I want you hairless everywhere except your eyebrows.  And if I find any hair anywhere, I will use my cigar to singe them off.  You may wind up with a burn too, but that’s your fucking problem. 

“I think it’s time for you to get to worship me properly.  Hands behind your back.  Look at this cock.  You really got me leaking.  That’s it, look down the shaft.  Thick too?  I know.  Open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out as far out and down as you can.  You are probably wondering how you are going to take it.  Well, the answer for today is you are getting it jammed in to the root.  That’s it faggot.  No fucking teeth.  Take it.  Open up that throat.  Dedicate that airway to me.  Oh fuck. 

“Keep those pansy assed hands behind you.  When a man holds your faggot head, he’s in control of the blowjob.  You sole focus is opening up your throat.  Gagging is good.  In fact, it’s putting a lot of throat slime on me.  That’s the lube I will need for your other hole.  On your fucking hands and knees now.  Spread those legs.  I’m taking that fucking cunt.  Fuuuuck.  This cunt has been used before.  But not too stretched out.  Faggot, I think you and your cunt are going to work out for me.  Oh fuck.  Hell yes.  I could do this all night.  Fuck, in fact I will.”

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

trouble, j. miller | chapter one

mob!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter summary: after getting fired from your job at the bookstore, your grandparents introduce you to the man who’s been helping them out for awhile: joel miller. now, it’s his turn to help you.

chapter warnings: reader swears and has dry humour (she’s a bit of me x), mentions of vip’s getting touchy but it’s hypothetical if that makes sense?? reader calls her grandparents ‘pops’ and ‘nonna’, no beta cause i cba, blah blah blah that’s it

also no hate to anyone who reads romance/physical smut books, the hate is simply towards minors who read them & their parents for allowing them LOL

word count: 2518

(series masterlist)

you really don’t know how much longer you can do this.

you’re six hours into your ten hour shift. you’re bored, you haven’t had your lunch break, and your phone is charging behind the desk where you were watching criminal minds before two teenage girls walked into the bookstore.

you’ve watched them for the past twenty minutes. they practically ran to the romance section, picking up books and flicking to certain pages you know had the most pornographic scenes in them before they’d giggle amongst themselves and add it to the pile they were building.

can teenage girls even afford this many books? you had been working since you were sixteen, and you’d barely get enough money to buy yourself two books whilst the rest would be stored away for college. and is this what people were reading nowadays? a male character that exudes toxic masculine standards whilst the author plays into the whole “innocent, virginal” female character who hadn’t the slightest clue about sex or life? is this what parents were allowing their children to-

“we want these books.” a demanding voice speaks to you, and you almost have to do a double take when you see the two teenage girls stood before you at the counter. god, you couldn’t even rely on the younger generation to be polite these days, especially not when one of them is judging you for your oversized hoodie and sweats and the crocs that sit on your feet.

“of course.” you force a smile, biting back on the insults you wish to hurl upon them. but, your boss is in the back. probably doing jackshit like she usually does, leaving you to work your ass off without any breaks.

the scanner scans the barcode on the back of every book before placing them in two bags. dante’s nine circles of hell sounds more appealing than this. you might just grab one of the books and hit yourself with it, hoping you hit so hard you might pass out and get to leave early. not like your boss would allow it, but the thought of having a hot shower and slipping into bed sounded nice.

“and your total is $194.68, is that going to be cash or card?” you rest your hands on the counter, looking at the two girls. one of them whips out a card, so black and matte you almost feel the courage to ask her if: it’s her fathers, and if so, is he single?

you hand her the card machine where she taps the card, and once the payment is deemed successful, one of the girls takes the bag, looks into it and frowns. “these aren’t in the right order.”

“excuse me?”

“the books aren’t in the right order.”

there’s a right order to put books in. none of them were even a series, and even then, does it really matter if your fucking fairy porn trilogy is separated?

“did you ask for them in a certain order?”

the girl gives you a look. “no?”

“so then why would i know what order to put them in?” you’re so done. you’re so fucking done, mentally, physically, and in the eyes of your boss, as well. the girls look at you, mouths agape, probably because they didn’t think they’d be spoken to this way, but you always said that the second a customer is rude to you, you’re being rude back.

the duo scowl at you as they leave the store, muttering insults under their breaths like it was a middle school friendship break up. you sigh, going to turn around to grab your phone when you jump back, spotting your boss leant against the wall.

“you’re fired.” she states.

“yes!” you fist pump the air sarcastically, grabbing your stuff and practically racing out the store. you didn’t even care if you were supposed to wait until the end of your shift to fully leave your job. you were hungry, tired, and your pops and nonna had told you that pops’ infamous burgers would be made for dinner and you were eager.

on your walk home, you listen to your music. it was relatively dark outside, and ideally, as a woman, you shouldn’t be wearing headphones in the dark. but you had always been more frightened by the noises you could hear rather than the ones you couldn’t.

you step into your home, taking your shoes off by the door and walk into the kitchen. you stop at the sight. your pops and nonna were stood in the kitchen talking to a man you have never seen before and you’re almost offended that your grandparents hadn’t allowed you to meet him because jesus christ and all things holy, that man is beautiful.

he’s tall. scarily tall, actually. and not to say you have a thing for muscular men but you would not mind letting this stranger throw you about. he leans on the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest as he eyes you up.

“he. who is he?” you point to the man, looking at your grandparents.

your nonna tuts your name. “he is joel miller, helps us out where we need it. why are you home so early, sugar, i thought you had a ten hour shift today?” nonna embraces you, kissing your cheek as she taps your arm, signaling for you to sit down at the kitchen table.

a faux laugh escapes you. “heh, well, you see-”

“don’t tell me that damn boss of yours ‘s been givin’ you a hard time again.” your pops speaks up this time, interrupting you this time. your pops was a scary man. he used to be involved in a lot of shit back in the day, constantly being chased down streets and alleyways by the police, always having them on his doorstep which would cause his mother to scold him. you can’t count the amount of times he’s threatened to come down and give your boss an earful on both hands.

“she actually fired me. apparently addressing one’s stupidity isn’t allowed. however, i am more focused on joel. joel, what is your purpose in this here house?” your head turns to look at the man as he addresses you, and he gives you a small smirk, walking over to the table and sitting across from you.

“she got a mouth on her, don’t she?” he asks your grandparents, and your nonna chuckles.

“always has. only started living with us when she was eighteen because of college, but she’s always had something to say.”

“something that’s gotta be shared with everyone.” your pops adds, and you give him a playful pout.

“right here guys, right here.” you announce. “back to the topic at hand. joel, why have you interrupted my pops’ burger night?” you’re facing each other now, your eyes analysing his face but all he does is smirk and since when was smirking so attractive on a man?

“well, your grandparents here mentioned how you hated your job, and i just so happen to have one that needs filled at one of my clubs.” his texan accent was prominent and full as he spoke, his brown eyes never leaving yours. “‘s if you want it, of course.”

“what club?”

“apocalypse.”

you slam your hands on the table with a wide grin. “i’m sold. when do i start?”

joel chuckles. “no questions about the pay, the shifts?”

you shake your head. “nope, don’t care. you know how hard that club is to get into?” you turn your head to look at your grandparents. “extremely fucking hard, i’ll tell you that right now. and i’ll get to work in there? god, life is so generous to me sometimes.” you exhale lightly, jokingly.

joel doesn’t stay for your pops’ burgers, but he’s given some to take home anyway. you decide to walk him to the door, being the ever so kind woman that you were, ready to see him off when he stops.

“ya’ start at five p.m. tomorrow, alright? i’ll have someone show you around, get you your uniform ‘nd all that before the club opens.”

nodding your head at joel, you bid him goodbye and watch as he makes his way to a sleek, black porsche, get in, and drive off.

____

“what do you mean you’re working for joel miller?” alicia asks you. alicia was the first friend you made at college after you chewed her ear off for the entirety of your first class. a girl who followed gothic fashion and was an absolute sweetheart compared to the people you’ve known in the past.

“i mean exactly what i said, babe. he’s apparently been looking after my grandparents for awhile and he offered me a job at apocalypse after that old bitch fired me.” you shrug, taking a bite of burger you got from dining hall.

“but joel miller is…he’s dangerous! everyone says his clubs are just money laundering schemes to hide his actual money.” naomi spoke up this time. ever the worrier, she was.

“money laundering would mean that no one was using his clubs and they were just there, naomi. the clubs are exclusive. i mean, we’ve all seen the lines to get in. we’ve been in those lines!” alicia somewhat comes to your defense even though you know she’s fully against you working there.

“my friend tina, the one from the political science class, worked there last year, and she says the pay is amazing!” a woman with black curls approaches your trio, another close friend of yours: georgia. “don’t get me wrong, she said some shady stuff happens in the v.i.p. lounge, but probably just guys gambling or something.”

you embrace georgia. “see, good pay and all i have to do is not ask questions. i’ll be fine, guys. and you,” you look at georgia “need to meet me at our cafe so you can tell me about that little masc lesbian of yours.”

you finish the rest of your burger, and pick up your bag. “gotta get home, but i’ll fill you all when i see you.”

you wave goodbye to your friends, walking out of the building as you scroll on your phone. when you get to the street, you bump into someone, about to apologise until you look up and gasp dramatically. “you! are you stalking me. god, joel, i didn’t know i was worth being stalked. that’s so flattering.”

joel scoffs, and opens the passenger door to his black porsche. “get in. ‘m gonna drive you down to the club.”

“don’t have to tell me twice.” you get into the passenger seat, placing your bag down in between your legs and joel closed your door. he rounds the front, getting in beside you and starts the car.

“ya’ hungry?” he asks, driving away from your college building.

“i ate just before i left. had a cheeseburger. not the most edible thing i’ve ever had, but it worked.”

“if you’re hungry when we get there, i’ll take ya’ down to the kitchen and grab you somethin’ there. house mom might have some snacks for ya’ too.”

brows furrowed, you turn to look at him. “the fuck is a house mom?”

“older woman who works with the dancers, takes care of ‘em in between dances. she’ll have snacks, spare outfits or shoes, hygiene products. helps ‘em all like a mom would.”

“nice.” you nod your head, and soon you’re in the private parking lot for the club. joel gets out first, rounding to your side and opening the door up for you. “gotta love a southern gentleman.” you snicker, walking into the club behind him.

he walks up a set of marbled stairs, heading to the second floor. “you’ll be working in the v.i.p. lounge, ‘s where all the dancers are and most of our staff.”

the second floor of the club is lit with red led lights, creating a sultry atmosphere. there are private rooms scattered all around, but there are booths scattered in the middle. joel walks you down to a hidden room and opens the door.

“this is my office. you can put your shit in here.” you walk in and place your bag down on the cushioned sofa, taking a seat beside your belongings. “i’m here when i’m not in the booths doing business, but if anything happens out there, ya’ come and find me, alright?”

you nod your head at him.

“all v.i.p’s know dancers and staff aren’t to be touched, but you gotta promise you’ll come find me if that rule is broken.” after promising, he continues. “i’ll take you down to adele and see if she’s got any spare uniform for you. she’ll walk you through anything else.”

joel guides you down the haul with a hand on your lower back, and if there was a camera following you, you would’ve hand an office moment with this simple touch.

“momma!” joel yells, knocking on a pink door.

the door opens, and an african-american woman opens it. she looks at joel, then you, and embraces you in a tight hug. “welcome, baby. this the new girl we’ve been hearing about?”

“yes ma’am!” you answer before joel can, shooting him a shit-eating grin.

joel speaks your name, and your eyes meet his. “go inside while i talk to adele, she’ll be back to help you in a minute.”

as you step inside the room, you’re met with an abundance of dancers. some are singing, doing their hair and make up, zipping up their heels, and others are lay on sat around eating some snacks.

“hi guys!” you wave at everyone, and they all squeal when they see you, immediately asking questions.

you answer them as best as you can until adele comes in. “now, i gotta get her some heels and her uniform, and when i come back-” adele glances around the room, pointing at an east asian woman with pin straight black hair. “lucy, do her make up, just so she knows what the standard is. your hair is fine, baby, don’t need anyone touching that.”

lucy smiles and waves at you, and you return it as adele leads you into the changing rooms. “uniforms are simple. black shorts, black long sleeve, and…what size shoe are you, baby?”

you respond, and she goes over to a rack of black, leather heeled boots. they’re platformed, shiny, and you know your feet are going to hurt the second your shift is done. “and these. i’ll let you get changed and you just come straight out when you’re done. help yourself to some snacks as well.”

“i don’t have to pay you for them?”

adele chuckles. “no, baby. joel gives me the money to buy the snacks. anything for you girls, joel pays for.” and with that, she leaves the room.

you sigh, looking at the mirror in front of you. this was a new job, with a hot boss, and from what you could tell, the rest of the girls in there were lovely.

this was your life now.

____

a/n: first chapter mother fuckers let’s GOOOOO

taglist (if you want to be added, pls let me know!! & if your name is in bold, i couldn’t find your account :()

@dugiioh @amyispxnk @skysmiller @alyhull @noisynightmarepoetry @elliaze @dendulinka6 @zliteraturehoe @atyourmerci @al33naaa @mermaidgirl30 @lulawantmula @nana90azevedo @endlessthxxghts @getitoutofmymind @you-taste-so-sweet @blazeflays @iveseenstrangerthings50 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @aquanatalie @katw474 @ludwigxii-blog @eloquentdreamer @kyloispunk @txmel @din-jarring @daddysmilf0123 @sofiparallel @dunkinzjm @runningmom94 @ashhlsstuff @moel-jiller @isimpforfictionalmen @drewharrisonwriter @stormseyer @rodriguez31 @elliesswearjar @vvitchesh3x @joeldjarin @untamedheart81 @ellishamae25 @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @pedritosgfreal @yassspose @casa-boiardi

[padmerry]

Was Caryn Pines a good or a bad mom to the Stan twins?

Stan introduces us to Caryn’s character by describing her in the following words: “Mom was a pathological liar, which served her well as a phone psychic.” She is also, canonically, a kleptomaniac. “Pathological liar” and “kleptomaniac” aren’t the first terms you think of when you picture a stereotypical housewife back in the day, are they? So that’s already proof she can’t be put in a box together with the “women of her time.”

Let’s get this out of the way: she does not fear Filbrick and people should stop using that as an excuse for her actions (or lack thereof). But she isn’t totally uncaring, either. I present you a canon analysis of the relationship between Caryn and her kids under the cut!

Usually, the possibility of Filbrick being abusive towards Caryn is a headcanon born not out of any canon evidence, so to speak, but specifically the need to excuse Caryn not intervening as Stan was being kicked out, even though she watched it happen, just as Ford did. However, this is not what we see in the comics:

Caryn initiating the kiss/affectionate physical contact, and smiling brightly and genuinely to the camera.

And, again:

She’s presumably alone with Filbrick here, again initiating affectionate physical contact, and looking at him with an expression that can only be described as very tender.

In both panels, she doesn’t look afraid of him at all. Not even remotely. She knows the man she married and she loves him. I think this might confuse a lot of people given what we know of Filbrick, but in plenty of relationships irl, a man will hit his children and then turn around and call his wife affectionate pet names; an abusive parent will see their children as beneath them to discipline as cruelly as they please but see their spouse as much more of an equal in the family structure.

I know a few of you might be thinking that these two panels don’t represent the totality of their home life/the relationship between Filbrick and Caryn. After all, there is abuse in “loving” marriages as well, right? It’s a complex situation. And I would agree with you, if we were talking about real life instead of a cartoon. Gravity Falls is a cartoon and all its characters are fictional and 2D, lacking the complexity of real humans—what we know about them is what is shown to us by the writers, and what is shown to us is intended to represent the characters in their totality and dictate how the audience should interpret them. We’re meant to fill in the gaps using what is offered to us as a basis. While you are free to headcanon Caryn as being abused by Filbrick, it doesn’t have any canon evidence to back it up, simply because the writers did not mean to imply that. If they did, she would have been written differently.

Take as an example Mrs. Gleeful (Gideon’s mom), who, despite not being abused, seems plenty terrified of the events happening around her:

The GF Wiki describes her as “paranoid, traumatized and disturbed” right off the bat. It isn’t subtle at all, because it’s a cartoon. Caryn, on the other hand, doesn’t show the barest hint of fear. On the contrary, they make a point of showing her happy with her husband and her family, overall.

When I focus on a Watsonian approach, I sometimes wonder if Caryn might not have been intended as a questionable mother, but that a questionable mother was simply the woman we ended up with given the writers’ lack of thought about their side characters and/or struggle to write female characters compared to male ones. I’m not entirely sure about that, though; a friend once pointed out Filbrick and Caryn are exactly the kind of parents you would expect the Stan Pines you knew up to AToTS to have, intended to sort of explain the two sides of his personality to the audience: a father packed to the gills with toxic masculinity and a lying, cheating mother. One thing I’m certain was intended, though (and if Alex ever releases canon material retconning this fact, it will be just that: a retcon), is that Caryn does love Filbrick.

In conclusion, she probably didn’t want to leave or divorce Filbrick, either. Not because she couldn’t or was afraid to, but because it was her choice to stay with him.

Now, can we blame her for that? That’s complicated too, I believe. I don’t think that physical punishment, even if severe, would be automatically be seen as abuse or anything of the sort in whatever period their lives took place, 1950s or 60s (Alex is insistent on the fact the show isn’t supposed to have an actual timeline, but an “emotional” one). I think this can be applied to a lot of other behaviors. I’ve seen many older adults saying, in my country, that “back in their day” an adult could silence their child with just a single look, just by raising their eyebrow. I don’t know how things were in the USA, but I bet kids were expected to be more “respectful” and “obedient” and a lot of what would be considered abuse nowadays was then considered an acceptable way of raising a respectable citizen. So Caryn, too, might have interpreted her husband’s behavior as his way of “toughing up” the boys.

I personally headcanon (emphasis on headcanon! I always keep headcanon and analysis neatly separated, and we’ll soon return to the analysis) Caryn as having Stan as her favorite. Most people with siblings seem to think there’s always a favorite one for each parent, and we know of her canonically being affectionate with Stan! She’s the one who says he has “personality,” who calls him her “little free spirit,” who asks about him to the principal when Ford himself doesn’t. She’s one of the only two people who attend his fake funeral, according to the TBoB site, and the other person was an IRS agent. On the other hand, we know virtually nothing about her feelings for Ford in particular/specific, other than the fact she at the very least doesn’t feel negatively about him—no nicknames, no praise, not much of anything. I like to think Ford is not disliked, but Stan is her baby. It makes sense to me because Stan was a talented and creative liar, like her, while she couldn’t relate much to studious Ford. (It’s also fun to give Ford mommy issues, hahah. It would be pretty ironic if, while Stan is confessing to Ford about how upset he feels that Ford is Filbrick’s fave, Ford was internally harboring similar suspicions towards their mom.)

Back to the analysis—these are the two instances in which we see her acting as a mom, in TBoB and the comics respectively:

In the first picture, she’s smiling at the camera with one of her babies crying in the background. In the second, she doesn’t seem very bothered by the fact her troublemaker kids are “sneaking out” (very probably so Filbrick doesn’t see them) to “fight the devil.” She doesn’t even ask for more information or scolds them for climbing down a sheet from their window (when they could easily fall and get seriously hurt), just tells them to be back home by dinner.

I think she did love them in her own way (she wouldn’t have been one of the two people to show up to Stan’s fake funeral otherwise, since there was no benefit in doing that), but that way of hers was clearly not the stereotypical, overprotective, nagging, fussing mother hen way. I see her characterized as some sort of Mrs. Weasley from Harry Potter far too often (probably because people have an idealized concept of How A Good Mother Should Behave in their minds, and with the lack of canon information about Caryn, that’s the default set for her), when truly her style of parenting seems closer to Grunkle Stan’s style of grunkling.

As an example, Stan smiling and reassuring himself as the kids fight like crazy in the background:

Except, of course, that she was a woman and didn’t have Stan’s weird hangups about masculinity, so she wouldn’t shy away from being more openly affectionate, cooing, praising.

Except, also, that she didn’t intervene when her kid was kicked out, while Grunkle Stan, who does everything for his family and is unflinchingly loyal to it (even to his own detriment), absolutely would have intervened in her place.

She sounds confused, a bit concerned, but again, she was not afraid to make her presence known and walk into the scene and ask what was going on as her husband was visibly very angry. Her tone is not of a panicking or scared woman.

Then, Stanley calls for Ford to defend him, not her. Ford, his brother, same age as him, who was at the moment beyond furious with him and very unlikely to show any compassion. Ford, whose attempts to change Filbrick’s mind would more likely than not have been unsuccessful. Not Caryn, adult, who probably had much greater sway over Filbrick. They say a child’s first instinct is to call for their mama. Clearly not in this case!

I’ve seen many people headcanon that Stan kept in contact with her, or else Ford couldn’t possibly have known Stan’s address. I think they might be forgetting the magic omniscient Mailbox! That’s my own headcanon to how Ford managed to get it. (Frankly, I don’t think the writers thought too much about it, so I doubt there’s an official explanation; if there is one in the future, it’ll be a retcon for sure. That’s how GF works.)

Think of Stanford Pines’ character and how he operates, how he always avoids asking for help, how self-sufficient he always attempts to be. He has two options: one involving phoning his mom and asking for his twin’s address and fueling gossip/assumptions that he was ready to reconcile with Stan, and another one than involved just Ford himself and supernatural/magic means, like an old, magic mailbox. Which of the two is more likely to be his choice, especially in his paranoid state? (And speaking of the mailbox, Ford wouldn’t necessarily have had to ask it about Bill’s weaknesses. By the time he needed Stan’s address, he had already tried using many of Bill’s canon weaknesses against him and failed, so he wasn’t struggling due to lack of knowledge.)

When Bill threatens Ford, he says no one would miss him if he died out there in the snow, which implies that, at least from Ford’s point of view, that would be believable (since Bill wouldn’t brag about something absurd and meaningless but something that he assumed could actually hurt Ford):

Bill mentions, in that order: Fiddleford abandoning Ford, Filbrick not wanting Ford to return without millions, and Ford’s lack of friends. No mention of either Stan or Caryn. If you want to be more charitable towards Caryn, perhaps this is Bill refusing to remind Ford of any person that could possibly love him. Even then, Ford’s mind doesn’t immediately go to Stan (presumably because of their fight) nor to Caryn (presumably because of Ford’s estrangement from his family) as a denial/protest against Bill’s words.

Ford also admits he had abandoned their family to become a recluse:

Caryn was very likely included in the “family” he felt like he had abandoned.

I’m not saying that Stan wasn’t keeping in contact with her, but that if you choose to think he was, that’s also a headcanon. I personally can see it, since Stan is a character who always prioritized family above all, while Ford was growing increasingly isolated and estranged from them.

Ultimately, when it comes to Caryn, I think her character depends a bit on Filbrick’s. The worse you headcanon Filbrick to be, the worse it looks for her as a mother. Fortunately for her in my case, I don’t headcanon Filbrick to be a stereotypical monster that beat his sons black and blue all the time. I think he sucked at parenting, but not exaggeratedly so, and in a way that could still be socially acceptable back then.

Meanwhile, in the fandom, I think there’s a tendency to portray Filbrick as Terribly Bad and Caryn as Undoubtedly Good, demonizing one and idealizing the other to the point you stop and wonder: how did this wonderful, perfect woman even marry this man? I believe the black & white extreme contrast is appealing, in a poetic sort of way—a helpless saint stuck with a monster—but not that realistic considering their situation.

It’s also more comforting to imagine her as extra motherly to compensate for the fact Filbrick was so terrible. Shermie also gets this treatment, in a way, being headcanoned as a very protective older brother that would often defend the twins from his father’s wrath. It’s just... sad to imagine our beloved blorbos Stan and Ford didn’t get much protection at all.

I don’t believe they were very protected, but I also believe that Filbrick also wasn’t that terrible. That time in which he attempted to “sell” Stan after he got a bad grade (according to the TBoB website), for example? I doubt he was actually selling the boy. Way more likely that he was humiliating the boy, which is obviously very, very bad, alright, but not to the levels of actual child trafficking.

I actually can see Caryn intervening in certain occasions, telling her husband to chill, that this time Stan (his favorite victim, despite the fact Ford also suffered with his expectations in a different way) was innocent, that they were just kids, but not forcefully so. Not in an “insistently, angrily putting her foot down” way. You could, of course, also headcanon Filbrick was that terrible but threatened the boys so they didn’t tell their mom and Caryn remained blissfully unaware of the worst—if that’s your cup of tea. Even if she were unaware of the worst, though, there are things she surely wouldn’t have missed while living under the same roof as Filbrick and the Stans without plausible justification, so I wouldn’t abuse that excuse.

It’s also possible to me that she knew some of it and started deceiving herself and coming up with explanations to soothe her own mind, perhaps even dissociating a little. She wouldn’t want her Filbrick to be a terrible father, so she pretended that he wasn’t. This hypothesis, ironically, would give her a fitting similarity to her son Ford: the worst liar is the one who lies to herself.

I’m not a great fan of the idealization of Caryn as a mother because that’s somewhat sexist to me. You know, how mothers are definitely treated differently than fathers, and often put on a “can do no wrong” pedestal with higher expectations? Society often forgets that women with children are people first, mothers second. I think it’s possible for a female character that is also a mom to be a good character but not that good of a mom. Caryn, imo, gives off more cool wine aunt vibes than she does motherly momma.

But we know that, despite her shortcomings, she does cherish her family.

Stan and Ford probably have many fond memories of her, such as this one in TBoB:

At least we can assume that, despite her husband’s idea of a Hanukkah present being actual cinder-blocks, which Ford felt the need to mention to the reader, Caryn herself must have gotten them more decent/normal gifts with the budget they had.

Or here, in J3, where we can probably assume Caryn was included in the “family” that attempted to comfort Ford about his extra fingers (I can’t imagine Filbrick being this sentimental):

She is also described as a “caring mother and kleptomaniac” on this Lost Legends website that I believe few people know about the existence of (the same that revealed her full name to be “Caryn Romanoff Pines”), but considering Alex’s acidic/sarcastic tone I don’t know if we’re meant to take the “caring” adjective very seriously. Especially because he has said before, in the DVD extras (AToTS commentary), that Stan attempted to get from the public “the affection he never got from his family and lost with his brother.” (Such statements seem conflicting with each other, so I prefer a middle ground approach.)

Narratively speaking, I believe she loved her boys and her boys loved her, but not enough to take away Stan’s protagonism in Ford’s life and Ford’s protagonism in Stan’s life. They’re meant to rely mostly on each other, to the point Alex confessed in HanaHyperfixates’ and ThatGFFan’s interview that he didn’t elaborate on Shermie’s character because Stan & Ford were meant to part of a duo against the world and an extra sibling would alter that dynamic:

In terms of Shermie, I remember asking Rob or somebody at some point, like, “Would Shermie be here, logically? Do we have to see him?” I don’t really wanna see him. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in Stan and Ford being—sort of having only each other and then losing each other because of their different life paths.

I think the suggestion was, “Maybe Shermie would be a baby. Maybe that would happen.” And being like, “okay sure.”

That said, I also believe people don’t get that. I’m tired of this being my experience in this fandom:

(Sorry, I had to include a meme.)

She’s excused for not intervening that night even as her seventeen-year-old son, Ford, is not extended the same courtesy. She’s also often put on a pedestal for... being present at her own child’s funeral? It’s ironic how, despite her fanon self being idealized by the fandom as mothers are idealized by society irl, her canon self is treated by the fandom as fathers are treated by society irl: the bare minimum becomes cause for celebration.

It might sound like I’m being too harsh on her, but I didn’t write this to attack Caryn. On the contrary, I think it’s very, very nice that her character is so difficult to pin down, as either a fully bad or a fully good mother. She has nuance, imo, and that’s a very delicate trait for any fictional character to have because the fandom never handles it well. Why? Fandoms in general prefer drama over nuance. (I’ve seen the contrary happening, too: a few fans getting so fed up with fanon Caryn that they decided to write her as completely uncaring.)

Ultimately, my own answer to the question posed in the title is: neither, but at least she (probably) loved them. Reading all of this, different people might have reached different conclusions, deeming her as either good or bad. That’s just proof, imo, of how hard it is to crack her. Good for her.