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gatitties · 2 months

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hello so can you do a reader who It's like really, really spicy food.At the point where it's really concerning. You know that restaurant where you have to sign a waiver because the food is spicy? I'm eating like it's nothing.

can it be strawhats, heart and kidd pirates?

thank you

─Strawhats, Heart Pirates, Kid Pirates x reader

─Summary: why it's spicy?

─Warnings: none

─ No one really questions your desire to make your taste buds burn, although some of them can't stand spicy food, sometimes they try your favorite foods just to see how much they can handle it.

─ Chopper and Jinbe are definitely not in that boat, the doctor can't stand spicy food because it makes his body overheat and he can't stand the heat either, it's a no-no for him, Jinbe prefers more refreshing things, being a fishman he doesn't like very spicy food although he can tolerate it.

─ Franky and Brook are the ones who can tolerate the most spicy things next to you, although one is a robot and the other a living corpse… you don't consider them real competition.

─ Nami and Robin will prefer to try less spicy things if you offer them, they prefer to watch you win extremely spicy food competitions, it's entertaining for Robin, you can eat things you like and Nami earns money if you win the competition, it's a win-win for all.

─ Usopp and Zoro underestimated you and ended up breathing fire after trying one of your favorite spicy treats, how the hell do you stand the spice? Are you a dragon or something? Usopp really thinks so.

─ Luffy has quite a tolerance for many things, although he is not a big fan of spicy food, he won't mind continuing to steal from your food if he has the opportunity, although if what you are eating is extremely spicy he will reconsider stealing or not.

─ Sanji is your favorite person on the ship, no matter what the food is, be it sweet, salty, sour… he always makes the dish he cooks for you have that spicy touch that you like so much, it doesn't matter if the spiciness doesn't match the food, he will do it and for your palate it will be a culinary marvel.

─ It's not bread so Law doesn't really care that you like making your mouth burn from eating that kind of stuff, as long as you don't hurt your mouth or stomatch, then if necessary he will cut you into pieces so you don't eat.

─ A little curious about your tolerance for spiciness, he will do some tests to see your limits and compare them with Bepo, the poor polar bear does not tolerate spiciness in the slightest, he doesn't even like to be near you when it's time to eat because just looking at your plate makes his eyes burn.

─ However, whenever it's his turn to go shopping and he sees a new spicy snack, Bepo will get it for you because he knows how much you like it.

─ They don't always let you in with spicy condiments to season your dishes because Ikkaku almost made everyone spit fire once by making a mistake and making all portions of food extra spicy.

─ Jean Bart your only real one, he will be the only one who accompanies you and has endurance competitions with you because the others don't dare, Shachi and Penguin tried it once but they ended up with their eyes and lips as if they had been injected with botox very badly.

─ And speaking of these two devils… they will encourage you to try super spicy things, like if they see a food stand on a random island that claims to sell the spiciest hot dogs and they pay for you to eat to see how spicy they are.

─ Probably the crew that best adapts to your taste for spicy, not because they especially like it too, but because they don't give a shit what you put in the kitchen, as long as it's edible.

─ This doesn't mean that everyone will eat that spicy food that you helped prepare, but they will be more tolerable, the positive side is that if they don't like the dish you prepare you will have more portions of food for yourself.

─ Heat your favorite boy, you are the perfect couple for meals, he can handle all kinds of spice perfectly, this boy breathes fire and is a great competitor for you.

─ Unlike Wire, he likes spicy food, but he is not so good at tolerating it, he will accompany you two when you go to eat in case the situation gets complicated (you love spicy food, but you are not made of steel, sometimes you need an emergency exit)

─ Killer at this point thinks that your taste buds don't exist due to the amount of spicy food you eat daily, seriously, he cares about your health, you need to eat other types of things or your taste will become obsolete.

─ On the other side is Kid, who encourages you to try all kinds of spicy garbage he finds out there, so don't be surprised if he ever asks you to open your mouth so he can spray you with pepper spray, this isn't the worst idea that he has had.

#op #one piece #one piece x reader #reader insert #strawhats #heart pirates #kid piriates #strawhats x reader #heart pirates x reader #kid pirates x reader #headcanons #op headcanons #sfw #request #x reader

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asarajaa · 1 month

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OKAY. MEETING BACHIRAS MOM FOR THE FIRST TIME. 🤭🤭🤭

(no pressure if you don��t want to do it ofc bbg<3 )

Ofc bb but have patience, I’m a little bit down cause I didn’t like at all my last post so yk 😭✋🏽

Omg I’m so dumb, I answered it without the fic made HAHAJJAJAJA, when I got it I’ll put it here and I’ll tell ya, k love? Have some paciencia 😽💗

Update: k so I already did it so here you go my love, hope you like it <3!

Warnings: fem!reader Words: 656 Disclaimer: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings! Taglist: @merlucide

Meeting Bachiras mom for the first time

₊˚ෆ To help me with this, I will pretend it is the second part of the Bachira falling in love hcs.

₊˚ෆ Indeed, his mom liked you.

₊˚ෆ First of all, when Bachira got home and told her mom about you, she was super enthusiastic to meet you!

₊˚ෆ After Bachira made a move and you guys become boyfriend and girlfriend, the next step was meeting each others parents, being Bachira the first.

₊˚ෆ When the time came, you were extremely nervous, Bachira tried everything to make you feel less nervous but obviously it didn't work.

₊˚ෆ You wanted to everything go great. Your friends always says that is like having a second family and that creating a bond with his mom is important bc she's gonna be like a second mom to you.

₊˚ෆ You made yourself a list of 5 rules to follow when you meet his mom (which made Bachira laugh at you because- babe, my mom is super chill you don't need to do those things.)

₊˚ෆ Rule number 1: Do not show empty handed. It doesn't matter if you give her flowers, some dessert or a gift, Bachiras mom will appreciate it and think that you're a very nice and sweet girl. She's the type of person who appreciates the small things so giving smth to her will be perfect.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 2: Dress modestly. Look, Bachiras mom wouldn't care if you go with some jeans and a cute top, in fact, she would compliment you. But if you go dressed like if you're going to some club she would not think bad of you but neither she'll think good of you. I believe that as an artist she's very into the fashion world and if you're meeting her with a cute outfit she'll like you.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 3: Don't try to be somebody that you're not. She want to meet the person her son fall in love with, no one else. She'll like you just the way that you are! As an artist, Bachiras mom know about being judge so don't worry about those things.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 4: Always offer to clean up. Of course, she wouldn't let you, but it would be nice seeing the effort of your actions that his son never stops talking about.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 5: Try having a one on one time with her. Women to women bounds are super special so you have to use the opportunity to grow a very strong relationships. Honestly, she always wanted a daughter so just talked with her about girl things and it would be awesome!

You and Bachiras mom were left alone, she told Bachira to go to the store to buy some dessert (you bought flowers) so now you girls were alone.

"So, how did you knew you wanted to be an artist Mrs.Bachira?" you asked her enthusiastic, the dinner went awesome and you guys were having a great time.

Bachiras mom loved your question, nobody usually ask her about her profession and you were actually interested.

As the night went by, you girls ended up having a girl talk about the latest in fashion, the new tea about celebrities, skincare and make-up.

When Bachira came with the dessert, he was confused. He left you guys silent and when he come back you were sitting next to each other talking passionately about some new viral linase mask that gives a botox effect. Although he wasn't complaining either.

"Word of mouth is that the mask also works to give definition on the curly haired girls." you said showing her the video of a girl trying it.

"Really?" she said leaning to you "Bachiras cousin has curly hair, i'll show it to her."

₊˚ෆ She loved you, like she would call you some days to exchange tips and your calls last hours.

₊˚ෆ Bachira was more than happy when he find out, It seemed perfect to him that the two women in his life got along so well.

nksdhfsbfv idk what I did.

I feel like It was too short, great rules tho

28/04/24

#sofis loves #bllk bachira #asarajas works #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #asarajas works (bllk)#bachira meguru #bllk x you #bachira x reader #blue lock bachira #bachira fluff #fanfiction

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eternalsa2z · 9 months

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Bim Mob

It didn't have to be this way, Tony. All you had to do was keep paying your dues at the club to keep us living our opulent, rich bitch lives. But you thought you were smarter than us 'silly little bimbos'...isnt that's what you were saying the back rooms? I think trying to steal our loyal sister strippers away to a competing business isn't a very smart move.

So now I'm going to have to take care of you. I'm going to knock you silly with my sparkly 'giggle stick'. Then I'm gonna break a few ribs and mess up your legs so you can squeeze into a pretty little outfit like mine and only walk in the highest of platform heels. Finally I'll beat your face until your own mother won't recognize you under all that makeup, collagen, and botox.

That's right Tony, you're getting the kiss of identity death. The Bim Mob is going to make an example of you by turning you into one of the best airheaded bimbos we have to offer. You're gonna be sleeping with the fishes...by which I mean sleeping around alongside the fishiest queens, glamorous sluts, and ditzies bimbos this town has ever seen. So say your prayers, Tanya. You might be too empty-headed soon to remember them later...

#bimboification #m2f transformation #bitchification

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luxe-pauvre · 1 year

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It is taboo to critique the concepts of makeup, cosmetic surgery, anti-aging, because it is received as “shaming” others’ “choices”. Why does there have to be shame? Critiques of these systems are not shaming others’ choices at all—they’re questioning the very idea of choice and of desire itself. An ad for an anti-aging product featuring a girl that looks no older than 16 advertises itself as the feminist alternative to botox because it is “non-invasive”. We see through our aesthetic Overton window, and this is the exact language and rhetoric that draws the curtains further and further closed. When the idea of aging naturally is fully removed from the conversation, it becomes self-care to prevent wrinkles, so long as you do it with these products marked with the correct trademarks. Contemporary marketing operates by transforming fear into desire. The fear of lacking control, the fear of being unwanted, the fear of aging, the fear of being oppressed are all repacked as the need for growth. This growth is both individual (“self-care”, confidence, independence) and political (media representation, “disrupting” old industries). We know how little agency we have: we spend all day working either demeaning service positions or bullshit jobs, which we depend on to pay our ever-increasing rent to our ever-corporotizing landlords. Our voices are lost: journalism, art, and media are controlled by mega-monopolies. Voting is both necessary and meaningless, every election an existential choice between two largely identical parties. We feel like insignificant cogs in a Post-Fordist machine. What the wellness industry (and really, all consumer industries) offer is a feeling of action, a feeling of choice, a feeling of momentum. By purchasing a gua-sha roller or a dozen milliliters of Juvéderm, not only do we feel we are performing an act of personal empowerment, but we believe we are performing a political act of feminism.

charlie squire, There Is No “Choice” In Wellness Culture

#charlie squire #There Is No 'Choice' In Wellness Culture

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skepsiss · 1 year

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Long Road Ahead - pt1

Pining after the events of the Upside Down. It’s sort of melancholy, but isn’t pining just the best background for when they do eventually confess to one another? Tw: Mention of long hospitalization, permanent injury and mobility issues. Joking/dramatic use of the term suicide. 3,000 words. Steve’s POV.

Pt1.2 Pt2 Pt3

"Steve!" Eddie hollered from the room. Steve sighed lightly, drying his hands off and walking back into his bedroom to see Eddie lounging across his bed, poking through a magazine. "I'm bored man, are we still going out, or what?" Things had been like this all summer. After the Upside Down, after everything over Spring break, normality had been hard to come by. Eventually, the weather had parted and a true Indiana summer had rolled into town. Despite that, Eddie was still wearing his heavy leather jacket with cut-off jeans so you could see his calves and half a pink scar on his leg. It still looked angry, and Steve knew Eddie didn't have the same mobility he had before. My arms and hands are good, so I can't complain, he had said as the scar tissue had formed on his neck and abdomen. He didn't have a full range of motion, and he looked awkward when he ran now, Steve only hoped that with time that too would pass. He had lost a lot of muscle in the attack, not only from the injury itself, but the healing process too, it was a miracle he had lived. Steve had only seen the worst of the scars on his chest once while he had visited at the hospital, Eddie had covered it quickly and had tried not to act bashful about it. They're badass, he had offered to the kids, complaining but also insisting that it wasn't a big deal. He wanted sympathy, not pity, so Steve hadn't said anything. But it was summer now, and Eddie was out of the hospital, he had left early in fact because the bills were outrageous and there was no way the Munsons could pay for it. His time at the hospital had at least given the town time to calm down and let him beat the murder charges. The FBI had taken on the case at the behest of the Hawkins Police Department, and Steve knew how that went. Everything was solved and everything was given an explanation, just stupid kids taking drugs laced with Botox or something like that, claims that it made the muscles so tight that Chrissy's limbs had snapped on their own. People in town still didn't like Eddie, but he was a free man.

Steve walked around the edge of his own bed and to the window, opening it to let some of the cool air in. He was hanging out with Eddie today much the same as he had the last few months. He wasn't sure why really, but Eddie had always seemed happy to see him when he visited at the hospital so he had come by often. It had only been natural that once he was out Steve had gone to see him at the new trailer as well. Today, Eddie was visiting him. He had shown up at his door, the trailer park only a short walk through the back woods to Steve's backyard, and he had sheepishly asked if his parents were home before barging in. Steve didn't mind really, but seeing Eddie all the time was wearing on him. At first, hanging out seemed normal; they were both guys around the same age that had lived through hell and back again. Jonathan had gone back to California to finish school, and as much as Steve loved the twerps, Nancy and Robin, there was something different about hanging out with another guy. Things felt less guarded, less personal, easier somehow but that ease had shifted slowly over the months. He liked being around Eddie, he enjoyed his company, but it felt forced somehow, a heavy feeling sitting in his stomach when Eddie was around. A pit formed in his gut now too as he turned and watched Eddie roll onto his back, staring straight up at the ceiling with his arms spread. He sighed dramatically and Steve kept a straight face as he watched Eddie's hair splay out around his head and his shirt ride up just a little bit to reveal the scar tissue on his hip. "It's hot," Eddie complained, and Steve couldn't help but scoff. He turned as Eddie rolled his head back to look at him, giving him an upside-down expression as his bangs fell out of his face. "Take your jacket off then," Steve scolded lightly, walking over to his desk.  Eddie laughed at him and rolled over, propping his chin in his hands. Steve tried to ignore that his pose was too familiar... too casual. "Nawh, I'm good," Eddie said cheerfully, not motioning to get up. Despite his complaining, Steve had assumed Eddie had actually needed a break from walking over. It was good Eddie was up and moving, but his hips and his legs gave him trouble if he went long distances. Steve hadn't mentioned it. "You're going to give yourself heatstroke," Steve said in passing, picking his wallet and keys up off his desk. "No I won't," Eddie retorted, whining as if Steve was being dramatic. "Oh?" Steve asked, leaning against the desk in his room, not rushing Eddie, "so wearing 15 pounds of leather when it's 96 degrees outside is what... a fetish or something?" Eddie blinked at him and then laughed, maybe a bit too hard as Steve crossed his arms and stared at him. His humour had gotten a bit more sexual since hanging out with Eddie, no longer having to hold back comments because he was hanging out with children. This was the type of stuff Eddie liked to joke about, the ribbing he enjoyed, and Steve liked it when he made Eddie laugh. "It's like my whole look," Eddie said with a chuckle, still laying across Steve's bed with his chin in his hand. Steve hated that he thought he looked cute like that. "You should try seasonal looks," Steve offered, standing up from his leaning position and gesturing to his own outfit. "You should try it sometime, you can stay alive and be comfortable." Steve cringed slightly at his own comment, his stomach flopping at the phrasing he had used. Stay alive. He hadn't meant to joke about dying and he didn't want that to dwell on Eddie's mind. "No offence," Eddie retorted, "but I'd sooner kill myself than wear a polo shirt." Eddie was smiling still and Steve was grateful for that, even if it had been at the expense of his own dignity. He watched as Eddie shifted to sit on his knees, sighing and fanning himself with the collar of his jacket. He muttered a quiet, 'Jesus' under his breath, the heat obviously getting to him. "Seriously man," Steve scolded lightly, "I don't want to go out and have you like faint." Eddie scoffed, looking a bit uncomfortable as he made a motion and lifted the front of his jacket, looking at his arm. It had been a quick expression, but Steve had caught it. It wasn't a discomfort because of the heat, it was a concerned look, an insecurity. "No, I'm fine," Eddie replied, his tone still cheerful even if it had dropped off a bit. He had to be sweating like a pig in that thing and Steve didn't understand why he insisted he keep the coat on. Eddie often complained about being cold--he was skinny as a twig, there was no wonder there--but in this kind of weather a jacket like that was suicide. "Alright fine, have it your way." Steve sighed, walking over to the door as he twirled his keys on his finger, half tossing them and catching them in his fist again. "You know you can totally ruin leather with sweat, yeah?" Steve commented idly, not really meaning to twist the knife. He heard Eddie scoff again and then silence drew out. He turned his back to Eddie, walking out towards the hall. Something heavy hit Steve in the back of his head and he half stumbled before turning around, Eddie's coat at his feet. "Fine man, stop bitching about it." Eddie was saying, his tone light despite there being an edge of... something in his voice. Steve looked from the coat to Eddie sitting on his bed, fidgeting a bit in an oversized T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms were exposed and Steve could see his tattoos... and the scars that were scattered across his skin. Steve pulled in a quiet breath, noting that Eddie wasn't looking at him, picking at his nail polish instead and subconsciously tugging on the collar of his shirt, pulling it up slightly to help cover the scar on his neck. Steve looked away, bending down to pick up his jacket without saying anything. He heard Eddie stand up from the bed and he glanced at him. Eddie's posture was awkward, despite the fact that he seemed to be trying to pretend he was fine. "We going or what?" Eddie asked, still not looking at him as he stuffed his hands in his front pockets. Steve half-folded the jacket over his arm and pretended not to notice. He handed the coat to him before turning and walking out into the hallway. "Yeah, where do you want to go?" Steve asked, leading the way downstairs and trying his best to act nonchalant. Eddie stayed in pace behind him and Steve tried not to look back at him too much. The air of discomfort was still fading though as Eddie's energy returned. "Ice cream?" He teased and Steve rolled his eyes at him. He laughed about it and Steve hid a private smile. Eddie was a skinny dude, and maybe it was bad that before Steve had noted the tattoos and the scars he had thought about Eddie's frame. Noted the lean muscles of his arms from dragging amps and guitars around, skinning kid shoulders that peaked out from the edges of his cut-up shirt. He understood why now Eddie had insisted he wear his jacket despite the weather, why he had suffered the last few weeks as the air got hotter. He still didn't want people looking at him with pity because of his scars. "If you don't mind driving a bit we can head out of town," Steve offered, trying to think of where they should go. He wanted to offer to take them somewhere they could hang out inside, where there was AC and Eddie could put his coat back on. "Oh, Mr. Fancy," Eddie was teasing as Steve walked them to the garage, hitting the button to the garage to let the sun in. Where was there AC? Malls. Libraries. Museums. "You want to go to the like dinosaur museum or something?" Steve asked, feeling his cheeks flush a bit at the suggestion. "What?" Eddie asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Seriously dude? That's in like Crown Hill 3 hours away. The children's museum?" "I don't know, I'm just spitballing here." Steve offered, slightly relieved to hear a little chuckle from Eddie. "It'd be faster to drive to Louisville," Eddie teased, opening the door to the F-series and sliding into the passenger's seat. Steve got in after him, starting the car and turning the radio on to static. He'd let Eddie choose the station, he didn't care if he put on metal. "You want to drive to Kentucky then?" Steve asked, looking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the garage. "What?" Eddie asked again, sounding surprised as he buckled in and started fiddling with the radio dial. "Louisville, Kentucky. Do you want to go?" He glanced at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, catching the completely baffled expression on the brunette's face. "You want to... take me to Louisville?" Eddie asked, the tease leaving his voice as he stared at Steve. Steve tried to shrug, rummaging through the center console and clicking the automatic garage door closer. "Why not? It's closer. We could check out the mall or something?" "And what? You pay for all the gas and everything we’d get there?" Eddie teased gently, obviously not meaning anything by it. Steve shrugged, not catching the insincerity in Eddie's voice. "Sure, why not?" Eddie didn't say anything for a moment and the car filled with static radio as Steve assumed he was just being stared at. Eddie laughed eventually, twisting the dial and then sitting back in his seat as quiet rock music started to filter into the car. "You ever think about getting a tattoo?" Eddie asked, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice.   He turned and looked at Eddie, blinking at him and feeling his stomach swoop at the cheeky look on his face. "No," Steve answered honestly, and Eddie laughed, leaning on the armrest of the car and looking out the window. "I'd rather get a tattoo with the money you'd be wasting on gas and whatever trinket you're thinking of buying me." Steve held back the blush on his cheeks, focusing on the road instead. He hadn't intended to buy Eddie a trinket or whatever, but the way he had said it made it sound like Steve was looking to buy him a ring or something. "I want more tattoos, obviously," Eddie was continuing to talk and Steve shook himself from his spiralling thoughts. "Cover up some of these scars...." Steve glanced at Eddie as he said the last bit, noting that he was still looking out the window and appearing a bit wistful as he rubbed at the leather on the door. Steve's chest tightened as he watched Eddie, trying to pay attention to the road still as they drove. He hadn't realized just how insecure Eddie was about his scars. He had noticed that Eddie was uncomfortable with them, and he hadn't said anything, but to this extent... it made sense. Eddie already had tattoos, an easier way to cover up scars was with tattoos rather than winter jackets. "We can go get tattoos," Steve offered, quickly correcting himself, "you can get a tattoo. I'm not getting one." He tried to make his tone light, and jokey while still genuinely offering the experience. Eddie scoffed, Steve's genuine offer lost on him. "Nawh man, summer is the worst time to get a tattoo, plus I don't have the money for it." Steve hardly hesitated in his response, already correcting his driving as he started a new course to an out-of-town location. He hadn't memorized where the tattoo parlours were, but he was sure they could find one easily enough. "I'll pay for it," Steve offered. He shrugged, trying to look casual. "No, man," Eddie scoffed again and sat back in his seat. He subconsciously scratched at a scar again, and Steve noticed. "Seriously," Steve tried again, turning the AC up in the car. "Seriously," Eddie mocked, not looking at him. "I don't need you paying for my crap, man." A silence washed over the car again and Steve glanced at Eddie. He could see the annoyed and crestfallen expression on his face. He looked uncomfortable. Steve sighed. "I'd rather pay for a tattoo," Steve said quietly, not looking at the other, "than see you wear that jacket all summer." It was a pointed comment and Steve could see Eddie squirming out of the corner of his eye. Taking charity wasn't an easy thing, and Steve didn't want to push it, but he was being honest. Money was money... he didn't mind using it for a real cause. If Eddie was going to be more comfortable in his own skin, Steve didn't care if he was spending money on a tattoo or not. "Just tell me where to go, man," Steve offered, not making Eddie verbally accept the offer. He didn't have to say yes or thank you, the goal wasn't to degrade him. Eddie hesitated, and Steve thought that for a moment he was going to say no again and leave it at that. But he spoke, his voice coming out weakly. "Just head towards the Indianapolis marker, we can pull off at Whitecrest." Steve nodded, not making a big deal of it at all as he rerouted. The silence drew out again, the radio DJ speaking quietly in the background as Steve drove the freeway. "What do you think you'll get?" Steve asked, not sure exactly how the tattoo process worked.   Eddie shrugged and there was silence for a while again. Steve could see him picking his nail polish. Steve tried not to say anything about that. He didn't want little black paint flecks in his car. He'd have to vacuum. "Been thinking for a while," Eddie said, his voice quiet still, "I'll see what they have as flash tattoos, but it'd be cool to get something classic. Like a dagger or whatever. See if they could spruce it up. Maybe a coffin or something like that, heavy ink it to uh... cover more skin. Get the band's logo on it." His tone picked up a bit the more he talked, and Steve tried to nod along. He didn't know what a flash tattoo was, but he tried to follow the trajectory of whatever Eddie was talking about. "You ever think about getting a guitar?" Steve asked, trying to contribute to the conversation, "your guitar?" "The Warlock?" Eddie asked, looking over at him. "The what?" Eddie laughed and Steve felt his chest flutter at that, the tension slowly easing out of the car. "The Warlock man, that's the guitar." Steve nodded slowly and got another laugh from Eddie, this one sounding more genuine. "It's like the brand man, like your car is a BMW, no well, that's the maker. Your like car model, Warlock is the model of guitar." Eddie started ranting, rolling through his explanation and veering off on a tangent about the various musicians who had played the same guitar. Steve peppered in questions here and there, trying to listen while he focused on the road. He didn't know anything about music and he didn't pretend to, just listening to the way Eddie spoke and how slowly that discomfort eased from him as he yammered on and on about his interest. It made Steve smile, the rumble of the freeway under his feet, and the promise that Eddie was going to finish this day better than it had started.  Pt1.2 Pt2 Pt3

#Steddie #Stranger Things #Stranger Things Fic #Steddie fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson

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jtl-fics · 9 months

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Could we get more foxhole bake for the WIP Wednesday? Pretty please with a strawberry on top?

WIP Wednesday - Open (8/30/23) | A Foxhole Bake AU

"I don't even really know if it counts as his judgement." Noel says from the side where he had been comedically pretending to be winded from helping Neil carry the empty serving platter over. "Andrew was the one who convinced him to bin it." he adds.

Paul Hollywood and Prue both looked at Neil who shrugged, "I thought they were okay." he says utterly unrepentant as if the bin the cupcakes had been thrown into was not taken away by production due to 'astringent odor'.

"You thought they were okay?" Paul Hollywood asks incredulously.

"I mean, I've eaten worse." Neil shrugs.

"Maybe he thought you needed a refresher on the Botox Paul? You're looking a little saggy." Noel offers, "Just a bit of botulism and we'll have you looking like you're 60 again in no time!" he teases.

"Noel, I'm 57." Paul Hollywood says with a frowning laugh.

"Maybe you should have had the cupcakes then mate." Noel continues.

#A Foxhole Bake AU #AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #A Foxhole Bake - Week 1 SB - 11 #WIP Wednesday Ask Game #8-30-23 WIP Wednesday #4

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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Classroom Confrontations

Summary: After learning that another child called their daughter a racial slur at school, Reader and Andy confront the Administration over their lack of action. Takes place after BiBi's confession in The Conversation: A Follow-up to Friendly Ignorance. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, Bianca "BiBi" Barber

Warnings: Angry Mama Bear Reader, Attorney Mode Andrew Barber, Discussions of Race, Use of Racial Slurs, Snarky Reader, Compassionate Reader, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This fic might be triggering for some. Please heed the warnings and let me know your thoughts. Part of the Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own.

___

Once again, you and your husband find yourselves sitting in the Principal’s Office at Bianca’s school.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Barber.” Says Principal Curothers. “Although, I must admit that I hate it has to be under these circumstances.”

You and Andy both offer him strained smiles.

“Ms. Robertson will be joining us, correct?” You ask.

“Yes, she will. Actually, she should be here any minute and -”

The woman in question picks that moment to walk through the door. Mr. Curothers motions for the her to sit in a nearby chair facing the two of you.

Now all you were waiting for were Billy’s parents, Sally and Dante. Or was it Stella and Duke?

Sally comes in a few moments later, without Dante. Damn. You hadn’t seen the woman in a couple of years, but she still looked like she's been sucking on a freaking lemon.

Maybe she ought to go a little easier on the botox… You think to yourself before doing your best to stow your mean thoughts. At least temporarily.

Principal Curothers welcomes her, and once she takes her seat, the meeting begins.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barber requested this meeting based on an incident that occurred between their daughter, Bianca, and your son, Billy, approximately a month ago. Apparently Billy called her a very derogatory...term, which I think we can all agree is very upsetting. We’re here to address the incident to see how we can all move forward in a progressive manner.”

“If I may...” Hell, your asking was only a formality.

“Of course.”

You watch in disbelief as Sydney rolls her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you say to her. “But do you have a twitch?”

“What? No.” She responds rather indignantly.

“Oh, then is there something wrong with your contacts?” Andy squeezes your hand, silently telling you to relax.

“No.”

“Then please don’t roll your eyes when I’m speaking, it’s rude.” Her mouth drops open as you turn your attention back to the administrator.

“As I was saying before my concern for Billy’s mother interrupted my train of thought, our daughter told Ms. Robertson about the incident directly after she was called a nigger. And she was completely dismissed. My husband and I would like to know why.” You can't quite keep the edge out of your tone.

You watch as everyone squirms when you use the actual slur out loud. Even your husband seems the tiniest uncomfortable. Oh well.

“Well, Ms. Robertson told me that -” Curothers begins.

“No offense,” Andy interrupts. “But we’d rather hear from the woman herself. Why wasn’t this matter brought to our attention the same day?

Ope, your man had shifted into Attorney mode. Get ‘em, honey.

The teacher nervously clears her throat. “Um, well, while Bianca did come and tell me what happened, I wasn’t around to actually hear their conversation. So I simply chalked it up to two kids having a squabble.”

“So you chose to do nothing. Our daughter was experiencing a very painful moment and instead of doing your job, you opted to ignore her.” Andy scoffs, his nostrils flaring. "Unbelievable."

“I’m sorry,” Sylvia joins the conversation. “But our Billy does not use that kind of language. And I can assure you that that ugly word has no place in our home.” Her delicately manicured hand clutches her chest.

“Apparently it does.” You mutter, unmoved by the woman’s passionate defense.

“Excuse me!” She hisses. “I will have you know that my Devon and I don’t see color, and we’re teaching our son to view the world in the same way.”

Okay. You blink at her. “So you, your husband, and your son don’t see color, huh?”

“That’s right.” She says, clearly proud of herself.

“Well then, to quote Trevor Noah…if you don’t see color, then what do you do at a traffic light?”

She gives you a blank stare. “I don’t get it.”

Of course you don’t, you ignorant twit.

“I think we’re getting a little off topic here.” Mr. Curothers interrupts as he attempts to rein things in a bit.

“Sorry, but the whole colorblind defense always irks me. It’s not about how you see color, it’s about how you treat color. Maybe try teaching your kid that.” Comes your gruff response.

“Again that word is not used in our home. There’s no place he could’ve heard it. We don’t even listen to rap music or anything like that.”

That does it. You tell yourself as you actively resist the urge to kick over her chair. You were listening to Big Sean’s “I Don’t Fuck With You” on blast the whole way home. Even Andy liked that song.

“That word isn’t used in our home either, except to educate.” You inform her. “You see, the only reason our daughter knows about it is because my husband and I sometimes have to have tough conversations with our girls about the color of their skin. Both of our children know what the word nigger means, and they are aware of the hurtful connotations associated with it.”

Andy steps in now, making a point of first looking around the room, leveling everyone with his trademark hard stare.

“I’d like to think that we’re all aware of the hurtful, demeaning, and negative connotations surrounding that word. Which brings me back to my initial question for Ms. Robertson. Why wasn’t this matter escalated and brought to our attention when it first happened? Why are we all sitting here discussing it over a month later?"

Your man turns his icy blue gaze to the principal. "I find it concerning that my wife and I have yet to receive an adequate answer. Regardless of whether or not this woman was privy to their supposed squabble, we all should have been alerted.” His big hand goes to rest on your knee.

Ms. Robertson shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“Why didn’t you do your job?” You struggle and fail to keep the edge out of your tone. “If you can't protect my child when she needs it, the least you can do is answer my question.”

“I - I, um, well…” She stammers.

“Principal Corothers, in lieu of pursuing legal action against your administration and withdrawing our children from this school, we request that Ms. Robertson put on administrative leave immediately. We would also encourage you and your team to undergo some serious diversity training.”

The other man coughs and looks down at his desk. “I will look into all of those things Mr. Barber. We do not support intolerance of any kind here at Cedarwood Preparatory Academy, and you have my word that we will do whatever we can to remedy this issue. Starting with appropriate disciplinary action, as well as implementing additional diversity training measures for our staff.”

“Oh my God, this is ridiculous!” Shirley hisses as she angrily jumps up from her seat. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you kiss his ass just because he’s some frickin’ attorney. I’ll have you know that this woman is my son’s favorite teacher and I will not let you treat her like this over something that clearly didn't happen!”

How come her eyebrows didn’t move when she talked? Oh yeah. Forgot about the botox.

“Um, sugarplum?" You briefly interrupt her tirade. "He’s actually the District Attorney.” She shoots you a glare so intense it would make a weaker woman melt. “Sorry, just wanted to point that out.”

“Well, good for him. Must be nice to be his kept little housewife, huh?” She sneers.

“Actually, I’m his bodyguard.” You respond with a shrug. "It just so happens that I also have an affinity for pretty aprons and baking. I like to think of it as being part of my cover."

Your husband just shakes his head.

“Argh!” She storms out of the room, only to return a few minutes later with her confused son in tow. “Okay, we’re going to settle this now. Billy, sweetheart, did you call your friend Bianca the n-word?” She asks him.

“No.” He shakes his head.

The little snot was lying and you knew it. You wished they would give you two minutes alone with the kid. You'd crack him like a walnut.

You grit your teeth as sighs of relief echo throughout the room.

“I didn’t call Bianca dah n-word.” He repeats again. "I don't even know what dat means."

“I know you didn’t sweetie, I know. That little girl probably just made it up for attention.” Suzanne throws you a shit-eating grin.

Your BiBi was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them.

Andy hooks an arm around your waist to keep you shooting out of your own seat and dragging the woman down the hall by her cheap hair extensions.

“But I did call her a nigger.” He whispers. The room goes so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

“Huh? You - you what?” You watch as the woman in front of you begins to malfunction. You allow yourself a tiny moment of demented enjoyment at her expense before regaining your composure. “Why would you..? Where did you hear that?” She turns to look at you. “I’m telling you, we don’t say that word!”

“PawPaw says it all dah time. He says dat dah only good thing a black man can do is shine his shoes.” The little boy shrugs. “Can I haf’ my snack now, please?”

“Billy, that is a very, very bad word.” Mr. Curothers scolds, his mottled face breaking into a sweat. “Why would you ever refer to your friend that way?”

“Cuz’ she made me mad when she took my turn on dah slide. And PawPaw say it ‘s okay tah say bout dah blacks.”

“Well, it’s not! Don’t you ever let me hear that word come out of your mouth again, young man!” His mother hisses. Taking a deep breath, she turns to you both. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure he apologizes. I - I’m sorry.”

You and Andy both nod.

"Devon's father is no longer welcome at our house." She mumbles, more to herself than anyone else. "And, William, I'm taking your iPad away for a month."

"No!" He screams.

"Consider it gone."

"I hate you!" Billy screams again before stomping off, prompting you and your husband to share an awkwardly amused glance.

Standing, you walk over to the woman and extend your hand, which she readily accepts.

“Thank you for the apology, Stacy. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” The woman looks ready to cry.

You’d feel a little more sympathetic if she hadn’t so readily accused your BiBi of seeking attention not even five minutes ago, but whatever.

Andy stands as well. “Principal Curothers, I expect to receive an email regarding the follow-up measures you intend to take before the week’s end. Please don’t make me be the one to have to reach out to you. My wife is already researching different schools for our children. I’d hate to have to start scheduling tours.”

The other man nods, looking ill.

You and your husband hold hands as you exit his office, neither of you saying a word until you’re safely settled in the car.

Turning to him, you offer Andy your most dazzling smile. “Baby, have I ever told you how sexy you are when you go into attorney mode over our kids?” You press a kiss to your still joined hands.

He grins. “And have I told you how much it turns me on when you go all Mama Bear on people? Makes my dick hard.”

You take another moment to smile at each other, before your man turns on the car and puts it in drive.

“We make one hell of a team, Andy Bear.”

“That we do, baby girl. That we do.”

And yes, you do blast Big Sean's "I Don't Fuck With You" all the way home, and it's cathartic as hell.

END

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