how to eat for food allergies

different headcanon questions!!

1. What are three Netflix shows that they’ve rated five stars?
2. Where do they prefer to read? On the sofa, in bed, at a table, on the porch, in a cafe?
3. Do they like to play games? What kind of games: video, card, board? What are some of their favorites?
4. What’s their food weakness? What food can they never turn down?
5. Do they prefer movies or TV shows? Why?
6. What holiday is their favorite? Which is their least favorite?
7. What’s their diet like? Are they vegetarian, vegan? Do they have any food allergies that make them have a special diet?
8. What sort of toys did they play with as a child?
9. How often do they go grocery shopping? Do they tend to do one large trip, or smaller ones throughout the week?
10. Do they eat breakfast? What’s a typical breakfast look like for them?
11. Do they like going to museums? What type of museums do they like to go to? Art, science, historical; interactive, quiet, a mix?
12. How do they organize their books? Alphabetical by author, by title? By size, color, date published? Is there any rhyme or reason?
13. Have they ever been do Disney World/Land, or any other amusement park? What do they prefer to do at them: go on the rides, play the games, eat the food?
14. How do they eat their popcorn? What do they put on it?
15. When do they pay their bills? As soon as the bill comes in? At the last moment? Or are most of their bills automatically taken out of their account?
16. What time do they normally go to bed? How many hours of sleep do they usually need to function in the morning?
17. Do they have cable, or do they rely mostly on Netflix, Hulu, and other streaming services?
18. What is their preferred weather? What would be a perfect weather day?
19. Are they more of a snacker throughout the day, or they eat three meals and call it a day?
20. Have they ever had an imaginary friend?
21. What were they a part of in high school/college, if they went? Were they a part of any clubs, did they play any sports? What clique would they have been considered a part of?
22. Do they have a favorite restaurant? How often do they go to it, and what’s their usual order?
23. How do they prefer to watch movies? In the theater, on a streaming site, from an owned DVD/digital download, rented from somewhere?
24. Do they watch any sports? What are they a fan of, and what teams do they root for? Do they watch the games/matches on TV or do they try to be there for some in person? Do they just catch the highlights on their phone later on?
25. What do they prefer to do in the summertime? Do they like going to the beach, do they prefer camping, staying in the city? Do they like to stay indoors and away from the heat?

Parts of the Body Asks!
  • Head: How do you like to wear your hair? What hairstyles do you find attractive? Have you ever wanted to do something drastic to your face/hair? What's your favorite part of your face?
  • Ears: What's your favorite music genre? Do you have any piercings? Favorite non musical sound?
  • Eyes: What's your favorite color? Time of day, aesthetically? Animal you find the prettiest? What do you find attractive in a person?
  • Nose: What's your favorite smell? Least favorite? What scent do you find comforting? Is there an outdoorsy smell that appeals to you? (beaches, pine trees, sand, ect.) Boop? Y/N
  • Mouth: Do you have a favorite taste? Least? Do you like kisses? How do you feel about teeth? Do wear lipstick? What's your favorite shade?
  • Neck: Where are you most sensitive? How deep is your voice? Do you like your voice? Can you sing?
  • Shoulders: Do you consider yourself to be easily stressed out?
  • Arms: Are you strong, physically? Do you think you give good hugs?
  • Wrists: Do you wear a lot of jewelry? What kind? Is there a certain type of jewelry that you just can't stop getting?
  • Hands: Are you artsy? Do you play any sort of instrument? Do you draw? Do you write? Do you have soft hands? Do your hands ever idle or do you always have to be doing something with them?
  • Fingers: Do you paint your nails? Are they painted now? What color?
  • Chest: Where do you feel safest? What comforts you the most? How do you usually calm down?
  • Stomach: What's your favorite thing to eat? What gives you butterflies? Have you ever been on a roller coaster? Do you have any food allergies?
  • Hips: Do you put your hands on your hips a lot? Do you close doors and things with your hips? Can you dance? Have you tried?
  • Back: What position do you sleep in? Got any tattoos?
  • Butt: Ever really hurt yourself slipping on something? Ever accidentally sit on something you really wish you hadn't?
  • Legs: Are you a strong runner? How flexible are you? Do you consider yourself to be a clumsy person? Have you ever broken a bone?
  • Ankles: Do you feel like you have enough support? What would you consider a weak spot, physical or mental? Have you ever broken something on purpose? (Smashed a window, knocked over a lamp, ect.)
  • Feet: Do you ever go outside barefoot? Do you like slippers? Have you ever stepped on a lego or something similarly bad?
  • Toes: Are you a risk taker? How tall are you? What's the worst thing you've ever stubbed your toe on? Can you pick things up with your feet?
Fatphobes are so ugly

You don’t know a fat person’s health by just looking at them. Just like how you don’t know a thin person’s health by looking at them. You are not my doctor.

Even if a fat person is unhealthy so fucking what? It’s none of your business. Fat people don’t owe you an apology for existing.

Amazing how if a fat person refuses to only eat salads or dares to eat in public, you think you have the right to harass them. As if the world revolves around you. You never give thin people shit for eating unhealthy foods, so why bother an innocent fat person? Oh right, you don’t see us as people.

As far as eating healthy goes, you don’t know by looking at someone if they have a food allergy. Or have food sensitivities or other food issues like my sensory issues. You also don’t know how accessible or affordable healthy foods are for them. Or if they have the time and spoons required to cook healthy foods. Are you going to buy healthy groceries and cook healthy foods for a fat person? No? Then shut the fuck up and let us buy and eat what we want.

If a fat person wants to work out, you ridicule them. If a fat person doesn’t want to work out or can’t, you ridicule them. So how the fuck are we supposed to exercise if we get shit for going to the gym? You can’t claim you want us to exercise and then mock us when we do.

A person’s worth is not dependent on their clothing sizes or weight. Do us all a favor and super glue your computer and lips shut.

-Mod Egg

Humans are weird: ALLERGIES!!

Jumping on the humans are weird train. What if humans and some creatures on earth are the only ones to have allergies? Like aliens would refuse to let us eat anything with peanuts because they encountered someone with a peanut allergy and just assume it is deadly to all humans. Then someone eats like a Payday or something and all the aliens freak out trying to get the human to spit it out only for the human to be ok. That’s how they learn peanuts are only deadly to some humans. Then they accidentally feed someone something that isn’t widely known as an allergy, like bananas. Now they have to make lists of what foods are deadly to which humans and they have lists like: do not feed human Bobby oranges or mangoes
Human Tiana can consume a small amount of peanuts before it gets too deadly.
Just aliens having list of food to not feed humans. And then there are the creatures that some can’t even be around, like some people are allergic to cats and some to dogs and the aliens are just so confused.

I respect the opinion of my elders, but just an open query about the charges brought against my generation:

For not working hard enough: where is the evidence. When we were younger you told us you started from a small job and climbed your way to the top. When we are flipping burgers it’s because we didn’t apply ourselves. When you did it, it was shouldering the future by suffering in the present. When we ask for the money to buy bread, it is shameful. When others went on strike in the name of labor conditions, it was heroic. When we ask for more, we never deserve it. So how did you get here? Did you never sit up and demand the world give you what was rightfully yours? How hard working is hard enough?

We are illerate, use slang instead of language, shun poetry: did I just imagine the “rad” bloom of the 70’s? Is it because you can’t catch our tongues in your hands? Is it because our poetry is now published beyond books, beyond the control of one voice, beyond you? That our language doesn’t need your approval to evolve? When you drew political pictures of us asking how to turn a book on, you laughed at our ignorance. When the tables turned, when we were shown to be the most literate and well-read generation on record, you scratched the mirror. You said it was our lazy nature. A body rotting. Because we read trash, or we read into things, or we write loudly and it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

School is too easy: What was it like going to school without being worried about a shooting? Did you ever cower like we have, like I did, like our friends, crying muffled in your hands because you love your parents and now have no time to tell them? What was it like, dear, in a world where my standardized testing scores would have broken your curve and I didn’t even get perfect. What part is the easy part. Is it the highest recorded level of anxiety? Is it the rising teenage suicide rates? Is it the eating disorders, body dismorphia, self harm, self destruction? Tell me, have you seen - there’s a show called “Are you Smarter Than A 5th Grader.” It’s very funny. In it, bright young kids show adults that what we’re learning didn’t even exist in common knowledge while they were in school. Tell me. If you were up against our 5th grade curriculum, who would win? No, I’m sure you’re fine. You learned it all in high school.

We want too many free things: What was it like to want for nothing? What was it like to have a certainty that hard work leads to a bright future. What was it like imagining being rich instead of imagining just being rich enough to eat good food. What was it like, not being worried that a broken leg would cost you an entire apartment? Do you know they hate us so much they would rather see us die than bring down the price of an EpiPen. And since I know you love the idea of us abusing the system, tell me, where do I go to expose the lie about my life-threatening allergy? How do I fake it, because I’d like to opt out of it, and while I’m at it my mental illness, and while I’m at it can you take my chronic pain please. And since I know that the answer is to go to school and get a degree so I can be worthy of not dying, just another question: are you aware fifty thousand dollars a year is equivalent to a house. I could buy a house instead of going to college. Since you’re good at this, while we’re talking, I have two siblings. Which of the three of us gets the money? Go on. Look at us. Choose. Who goes hungry?

We’re entitled: yes, please, give me a deed, give me land, give me better than winning the lottery. What I’m entitled to is life, liberty and the pursuit of profit, am I not? So where are any of the above? Where did the jobs go? Why do you jail people for small crimes but free the criminals? And my life? This life? I end where my body begins, I am cut off from the nation’s decisions about what I can put in or take out of me. And me? I’m safe because I’m white-passing. Don’t the bodies pile up? Aren’t we entitled to justice? Aren’t we entitled to an answer? A response from the government? More than just speeches about how riots won’t solve things? Aren’t we entitled to a fair trial? To freedom of speech? Was it not our common fathers who fought for these things?

We’re lazy: Where? Who has the money? I’ve been working since I was 12, am I just an anomaly? Or do you just ignore those who don’t fit your story? All those student-run engineering projects that are changing history. All those protests. The art world, shifting. All these adults who demand more - do they count as lazy or as entitled? What were you doing at our age? Did it really look all that different?

We don’t listen to real music, don’t like real art, are loud, are too busy partying: We changed and you didn’t keep up. Is that’s what’s so startling?

We are sucked up into the Internet, wouldn’t drop the phone if the apocalypse was happening: my phone has my family on the other end of it. Do you not save pictures from a burning building? Do you really care so little for others you’d stick to the old ways entirely instead of texting? Oh sure, yes, a letter is pretty, I love them. But just asking for a friend: What do I do in an emergency with only a pencil. And I don’t mean to downsize the problem because I mean it’s not like you took Polaroids of your friends at sunset - right? - and it’s definitely wrong of us to want memories of a really nice night, but, just curious, did you post that opinion on the Internet? Was seeing others on the Web what made you upset? Maybe - this is just a crazy idea that popped up into my head - you should go take a walk, go outside, disconnect.

We do everything different: Yes. Because we were raised on the cusp of the next great Renaissance. We are in somewhere new, a galaxy of expansion that doesn’t rely on you. That knows more than you do. That doesn’t function the way you expect it to. How rose-colored is the past to you? The place where you erase AIDS and drug abuse in an effort to tell us we are a terrible youth. Where you don’t talk about the marches that happened around you. How painted do you picture it, simply because you had to physically look in a book to learn something new? How do you turn your eyes to a world where war sits on our necks, our earth melts, our populations swell, our people starve, and we are powerless in it all - and say, “It’s your fault.”

It’s our fault. The housing market, somehow related to our obsessive need for safe spaces, I’m sure, because our dreams no longer lie in yards but rather something big enough for at least a bed, and hopefully with tasteful curtains, and you have no idea what a safe space is. The certain failure of the two-party political system, maybe somehow due to our political correctness - we are, after all, rude enough to never open doors for old ladies or just let you be racist - how we controlled the media, how our desires drove this. Our request for trigger warnings and correct pronouns is a burden, and I see that now, because our special snowflake syndrome really does hurt you as a person; while your ongoing use of torture in corrective therapy is only a problem if you’re actually looking. You’re so right about so many things. When you beat us to correct us, it’s your child and it’s your right; when it’s our bodies we ask to have rights over - well, what did we expect? It’s our fault. The crushing debt, the companies that own our government, the privatization of prisons, the unrightful searches, the human trafficking and abuse of sex workers, the gun violence, the pharmaceutical industries which control our doctor’s choices, the climate change you only just started to admit is happening, the extinction of species worldwide - we are responsible for both pollution and poaching, the lead in our water, the death in our streets. So what do you get from it? From dismissing us? From quitting on us before the race begins? From forgetting who exactly raised us kids?

Now, I was told that the problem is that we too often point to bigotry. That we hide behind pointing out your sexist comments instead of realizing the truth your words wrought. I was told we are so focused on our victories, of a world that rallied for marriage equality, for gender expression, for the safety of survivors, for a healing nation - we call out instead of calling on. So I’m calling on you, Generation X kids. Here’s your free one. No bigotry spoken of. So speak. Explain what exactly you mean.

I get it. We asked for a country. The land is borrowed from your children, they tell me.

Now why are you so afraid when we show up and start collecting?

Snack boxes!

The first half of my pregnancy I didn’t have much of an appetite- nothing sounded good and I just wasn’t that hungry. Now, in the second half of my pregnancy I have an appetite but this baby is pushing on all my insides and I can barely fit a regular sized meal in. Then I feel full for hours. It’s the weirdest thing.

Anyways, I’ve been trying to figure out how to do meal prep that works for me. I have discovered the perfect solution- snack boxes! It’s the right amount of food, it gives me lots of variety, and it’s nutritionally well rounded.

Another plus is that there is no cooking involved and very minimal prep time.

anonymous asked:

I think there's two major influences to the societal shaming of picky eaters.One of them is how people get their pride so bound up in having PROVIDED, turning your nose up at what they serve is DISRESPECT. Then there's families like mine, with many different food allergies. You don't have like it, but you must try it before you give an opinion. Our diets would be severely unhealthy if we weren't willing to find new foods as old favourites are stricken from the list.

Just adding, I think we’re doing something right with the girls and their diets. Strange, but right. The oldest likes to munch on green onions dipped in peanut butter and the youngest wants to capture a lot of snails from our garden to prepare as escargot. Next rainy day she gets to try and capture enough to be worth preparing as a meal. Yes, both girls have food they turn their noses up at, but they’re not stuck in a rut.

IDK, can you just up and eat snails from the garden? I suppose that’s how people have always done it but I’d be a bit, possibly irrationally, concerned about disease.  

While families do shame their own picky eaters, I’ve found it much more common in peer groups while eating out. Most of the attention I got over my dislike of foods came in college at the dining hall. I think it’s most often about people being really uncomfortable with the idea that our senses experience the world differently, combined with the general trend of our culture to attack anything seen as sitting outside an ill-defined “normal”. People get really insecure and upset over the idea that “I don’t want to eat what you’re eating because I think it doesn’t taste good.” 

The “you have to try it before giving an opinion” technique is a good one, but it also requires a fair amount of scaffolding (I say this more to the general public than to you, since it sounds like you’ve got that structure in place). Once they do try it, if they don’t like it they need to know that there will be an alternative offered so they don’t “eat or go hungry”. They also need to know that they won’t be berated or doubted when they express an opinion; if someone browbeats you into withdrawing an opinion on the food, you very soon stop giving an opinion, or stop trying it altogether, because you know you’ll be forced to eat-or-starve no matter what. And at restaurants I think this rule needs to be suspended because if you try a dish and don’t like it, there’s a necessary guilt and shame involved in asking for an entire new meal, especially since it won’t be brought out until others have already eaten a significant portion of theirs. 

And once you’re an adult, “try it first” stops being legit. Adults have a right to choose what they eat and refuse to eat something for any reason at any time, full stop, because we are considered responsible for our own decisions, which also means we get to make them ourselves. 

"How can you be ace and use porn?"

Imagine living in a place where the only food to eat is fruit. The most popular fruits are Oranges and Apples.

You have a rare allergy to fruit.

But you’re still hungry, because humans need food.

Whenever you try to tell people you’re hungry, they offer you either an Apple or an Orange. When you tell them you’re allergic, they offer you the other. When you explain you’re allergic to ALL fruit, one of two things happens:

“How can you be allergic to all fruit? That’s not a thing. You’re either confused or you like one fruit but don’t want to admit it.”

“If you’re supposedly hungry, then you HAVE to want fruit. You can’t be hungry and not want fruit.”

After sometime, you find candy that you can eat to sedate your hunger. However, all candy is fruit flavored. That said, the flavoring has NO actual fruit in it, so you’re safe. Your favorite is Green Apple.

But uh, oh. Remember all those people you told you were allergic to fruit? They now see you eating the candy and think that you’re lying about your allergy.

“AHA! You were faking so you could look special. You’re hungry, you’re eating fruit-flavored candy, and your favorite is Green Apple. So you WERE just hiding the fact that you like Green Apple!” They say.

But they’re wrong. Because you still have your fruit allergy, and this candy is NOT fruit. Eating fruit and eating fruit flavored candy are two very different things. Because one will trigger a reaction and the other won’t.

This is the difference between attraction and libido.

NOTE: posted not only for people who don’t know this, but also for anyone having trouble putting this into words.

I work with 7th graders at an after-school program that services at-risk kids. Right before winter break over the course of a week, a bunch of them approached me complaining of stomachaches. 

I ran the usual gamut of questions I grew up with having been born with a neurotic 90-year-old’s digestive system: What did you eat today? Do you have any food allergies? How much did you eat? Have you eaten at all today (maybe you’re hungry)? Do you have a history of tummy problems?

After receiving unremarkable responses to the aforementioned questions, I moved on to the one that should warrant a polite whisper from most people but only elicited a slightly lowered voice from one so well-acquainted with intestinal distress and thus permanently numbed to its ravages: When was the last time you pooped?

And every single kid–Every. Single. One.–responded, on average, that they had not pooped for at least a week. One girl, whose agonized expression suggested that she was ready to welcome death’s sweet embrace then and there, said that she hadn’t done the deed for three weeks.

Three weeks.


Almost four. That is a month. An entire month poop-free.

It became clear to me that a serious discussion was in order. I’d a class full of constipated, agonized 13-year-olds who subsisted entirely on Takis and various artificial bread products. There was nary a grape or a carrot to be seen.They worshiped instead at the altar of the Hot Cheeto and whispered vespers to their lord and savior, the pan pizza.

So one day, near the end of programming, I gathered them all in a classroom. They took their seats, unsure as to why they were gathered there when they all had pressing appointments with a Snapchat filter.

They looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat.

“When was the last time you guys pooped?” I asked.

The room erupted into cacophony.

“Ew, Miss!”

“That’s nasty!”

“Wait, ask me again–ask me again–!”

“Why you up there askin’ why we poop, Miss? You nasty!”

“This morning!”

“Say that again!” I shouted with a clap, pointing to the last student who had spoken. She looked startled.

“Yeah, you,” I said. “What did you just say?”

“I, um….I pooped this morning?”

“Okay, GREAT.” If they didn’t already, they were now fearing for my sanity. “What did you eat for dinner last night?”

“Well,” she said philosophically, “I had some chicken and some veggies like in a stir-fry.”

“Cool. Anybody have any idea why chicken and veggies are a good meal choice?”

One kid near the back hesitantly raised his hand.

“Because they…help you poop?”

I clapped again. “You got it. Why?”

“‘Cause they nasty,” someone else shouted.

“Okay, no, that’s not why. Also, they’re delicious, so reevaluate your life choices….Who knows what fiber is?”

“It’s the gross food they make you eat like fruit,” a girl in the front said.

“Not gross, but yes, fruit. Fiber is anything that acts like a brillo pad in your intestines. Veggies are full of fiber.”

“What’s that?”


“A brillo pad.”

“It’s those rough green things you use to clean the bathroom,” I explained.

"Pfft, I don’t clean my bathroom.”

I’d had a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t, but I kept that to myself, continuing, “Fiber helps move things along in your pipes. When you DON’T eat fiber, you come to me and tell me that you haven’t pooped in three weeks. Because without fiber, your body basically can only make steel poop, and then it gets backed up and gives you stomachaches.”

“This is gross, Miss.”

“Steel poop is grosser,” I said.

I spent the next ten minutes listing and discussing poop-friendly foods. In a development that should surprise approximately no one, barely any of the kids ate those foods.

“So it’s no WONDER you guys aren’t ever pooping because you basically eat modified paper products,” I finished. “Here’s your challenge. I want you to eat at least ONE of the foods listed here with every meal. And keep each other in check. Be a poop buddy.”

A few days later, six different students approached me after school. They all delivered more or less the same message, voices lowered confidentially, eyebrows quirked in pride.

“Miss,” they told me, “I pooped today.”

Even better, they began to hold each other accountable. Not all of them had joined the Poop Brigade, but recruitment into the ranks itself was a small victory.

And that is the story of how my students now habitually ask each other, “Have you pooped today?”

I don’t know if other diaspora kids have run into this issue but something I’ve been learning to make a distinction between is when someone Not Liking Certain Food is actually racist or they legit have issue with things like taste, texture, etc. The reason this is important is because it can bleed into ableism. Some people literally can’t eat certain foods, it’ll make them very sick, or they have negative sensory reactions to them.

For me it really comes down to nuance, but one of the main distinctions for Not Racist is if someone hates a food, but doesn’t stop other people from eating it.
Example: my partner is white and on the autistic spectrum. The texture of soy milk and other things are just awful to her, but she’ll encourage me to have those foods. We’ve reached an understanding that doesn’t sacrifice my culture for her sensory limits or vice versa.
(Keep in mind that some people have smell issues too though! Some smells like peanuts for people with severe allergies, can still cause bad reactions. So they may not want you to eat it around them, but ideally a cool friend won’t mind if you do it on your own time)

Of course, this doesn’t absolve them of responsibility either. I think regardless of someone’s dietary needs, they need to learn how casual language can hurt. Calling food disgusting or unsanitary is awful, and another distinction of Not Racist is if they’re open to conversations about editing their language. Some people do racist things ignorantly, but a malicious racist won’t listen or have a conversation about your experiences.

When making friends and getting into relationships, have talks about non-white foods and see what kind of language they use. Often it helps when they keep their distaste to a personal level
Example: “That food’s just not for me” or “I’m allergic to ____” or “Oh I personally can’t eat that”

The converse red flag is when they condemn all of it just because of their personal preferences/needs
Example: “That food’s disgusting” or “I don’t see how anyone could eat that” or “How can you stomach that shit?”

Food is a huge part of culture and it sucks getting into fights about the way our friends and partners talk about it, but sometimes we can get over-defensive and ruin relationships over small things that can be worked out with communication and good listening

dancing-thru-clouds  asked:

Hey mom, so, I just discovered a shrimp allergy yesterday-my sister has one, so it wasn't exactly unthoughtof, but I still feel betrayed by my own immune system? And now I have to process not being able to eat some of my favorite foods and just-how do you deal with new allergies?

Step One: Despair

Step Two: Resentment

Step Three: Be happy it didn’t kill you

Step Four: Possibly take yourself off for some resting to make sure there’s nothing else you might be allergic for.

Step five: Learn to really love the foods you can eat and fuck shrimp for being a god damn traitor. 

How to Take Care of Yourself When You’re Sick

So, you’ve moved out (or at the very least, gone away to college) and you’re sick and no one’s around to take care of you. Some of you were smart enough to pay attention when your parent(s) pampered you in the illnesses of your childhood. Some of you…eh, not so much. So how do you take care of yourself?

Keep reading

I’ve come to realize there’s a definite ableist undercurrent to people ignoring that maybe there’s a medical reason to avoid certain foods.

People often react to me talking about my allergies with outright suspicion, like someone responding to being told I can’t eat strawberries with a suspicious expression and “I’ve never heard of THAT before” as if I’d make up an allergy as an excuse instead of just saying I didn’t like strawberries

(which isn’t true, I love strawberries, that’s how I found out they make my throat swell in the first place)

That’s part of a pattern:  “It’s not that you CAN’T walk more than thirty feet without help, it’s that you’re LAZY.”  “It’s not that you CAN’T hear, it’s that you don’t want to pay attention.”  “You can get over your mental illness if you just TRY hard enough.”

“It’s not that this food is actively making you sick, it’s that you don’t LIKE it and won’t ADMIT to it/it’s because you’re following some kind of FAD DIET.”

(There are other layers to this: People giving my mother diet soda because she’s fat when the reason she asks for regular is an allergy to aspartame; that’s pretty blatant fatphobia.)

Like, why is it some other person’s business how I get through my day or what I put in my body?  Even when I’m purchasing something from them.

And the reason is mostly “I don’t like that you don’t fit into my perception of reality.”

anonymous asked:

so keith tells hunk he wants to learn to cook to make something nice for lance (valentine's day, his bday, idk something). hunk shows keith how to cook. keith cooks. he and lance eat keith's food. lance has an allergic reaction (idk stomach ache or sth?) and keith freaks out bc he didnt know lance had allergies. keith proceeds to take care of sick!lance for the rest of the night bc he feels like its his fault.

oh my gosh babies…..

Personal Post - Skip if you're just here for fandom and random

I am going to have a baby in about two months. It was planned and anticipated. My husband and I are beyond excited. I spent a year dealing with health issues and getting to a place where pregnancy was even an option. Then we were lucky and it happened two months after we started trying.

But let me tell you something, no matter how excited I am for this child (and I am), pregnancy is awful. I hate it.

It has made my already diagnosed restless leg syndrome 1000 times worse. It has increased my allergies so that I can’t lay on either side for more 20-30 minutes and yet that is how you are told is the only healthy way to sleep for baby. It has caused significant back pain, the treatment for which is not covered by my insurance. If I eat a meal that is better than my hand, I puke it up, not because of nausea but because baby is pressing on my stomach and food just doesn’t fit. And yet, I am ALWAYS hungry.

That doesn’t even get into the hormonal/emotional insanity that is now a part of my life.

And my pregnancy, so far, has been a completely normal and healthy pregnancy.

For me, I persevere because this baby is someone I have wanted to welcome to my family since I knew babies were a thing I could make.

However, this has given me a whole new perspective on women’s bodily choice issues. I have always been personally pro-life but politically pro-choice. In other words, an abortion is not something I would consider for myself in most situations but I believe that no one can make that decision for anyone else.

However, growing up, I was always told that if a person didn’t want a baby, they should just put that baby up for adoption. That never really sat well with me but I couldn’t really articulate what was wrong with it until I was pregnant.

It doesn’t take into account the significant physical, emotional, psychological, financial, and job related toll of growing a parasite inside you for nine months. Now I call my baby a parasite with a loving groan. But I can imagine that if this baby were not someone looked forward to and loved already that it would more likely be a statement of despair.

No one should have to go through what I am going through without the choice. Abortion is not just about not being ready or not wanting to have a baby. It is also about not being ready or not wanting to grow a baby inside you for nine months.

This has been on my mind for awhile and this is really the only place I feel safe sharing it (family and work being what they are).

One final comment, throughout I have referred to my fetus as baby and someone, which, to me she is. This is not a comment on whether a person starts at conception. It is just how my husband and I choose to view our little parasite.

mistymountainsgay  asked:

This may be a stupid question, but how dangerous is horseradish? And are we talking about the food kind or some other kind? Just wondering because I'm Jewish and worried about having put a spoonful of horseradish in my mouth every Passover for about a decade. I'm sorry if this is stupid but I'm worried I'm gonna die now.

Not stupid it all :)

The thing I am talking about is the extracted essential oil, which comes from the food, but is entirely different from the spoonful you’re eating or adding onto your food which is safe for human consumption unless you have an allergy. 

The reason horserasih essential oil is so dangerous is because it’s so much more potent than the actual food due to the chemical process it undergoes during extraction. You’d need to eat a lot, lot, lot, lot, lot of horseradish to get anywhere near the same effect as applying the essential oil directly to your skin/huffingit/injesting it, and even then I think you’d throw up before it got to that dangerous level.

give me a velma with insecurities, a velma who has a hard time connecting with people, who fears she isn’t liked by the gang because she doesn’t get the jokes quickly, a velma who is a no-nonsense person and yet who’d be the first to crack a joke when one of her friends is sad, who watches out for them, makes sure they have every little thing they need, watches out for their allergies, has spare tampons on her for daphne and makes sure the food they’ll eat is something they like. give me a velma who cares so much about her friends she doesn’t know how to put it down in words and yet crafts things for them every christmas, who calls her friends’ parents to assure them that everything is going alright when the gang forgets about it, who reminds them about their relatives’ birthdays, and sends a card herself when they forget to do it, on whom all the responsibility falls, the person being blamed when shit goes wrong.

give me a daphne who was never credited for being resourceful, whom people saw as a rich, pretty girl with little to offer to anybody, a daphne who would go to the end of the world for her friends, who does little things for them, like being ridiculous and uplifting their spiritis, who takes them all around the world, who doesn’t go anywhere without them, who is the glue that holds the team together and who cares little about being the damsle in distress when she can slay the dragon by hersel, thank you very much.  give me a daphne who cares little about what others think, who fights everybody who objectifies her, who knocks out anybody who has something bad to say about her friends, who comes up with all these fun activities for the gang to do in their spare time and who gets super excitied about all these little things, and is a convinced feminist, fighting for every little social change.

give me a fred, who all his life, was thought of as that stereotypical jock, big muscles, small brain, and who is the brain of the operation, the one who comes with all these genius traps and plans to catch the bad boys, who remembers all the little stuff about his team mates, who makes sure nobody is left behind and looks after them. give me a fred who is the big brother of the team, who fears showing weakness and who’s there when they need him, who cares about their safety and believes in them, who gives them pep talks when they need one, who sleeps the last to ensure the safety of his gangmates, who checks the machine over and over again to be 100% sure nothing goes wrong, who takes it upon himself when they get hurt.

give me a shaggy who was excluded all of his life for being carefree, for having a dog for a best friend, who was taunted and bullied for not doing anything without scooby, who fought with his parents about it, who notices every little thing about his team mates, who’s sensible and doesn’t joke about the stuff he knows will affect the others, who will swallow his fear once any of the gang are in danger. give me a shaggy who’s the first to jump into fight when somebody is hurt, who takes on the bullies whenever he can, give me a shaggy who’s imaginary world cannot be without the gang, who does his damn best to get the others’ mind away from all the supernatural crap and remind them that at their core, they’re still teenagers.

give me a scooby who all his life was ignored, who was a circus attracting, whose opinions never matter, who comes to all the others when they’re sad and lies his head on them and listens, who promises the others to watch the door when they’re having nightmares after a particularly scary mystery, who is there for them and the one who’s most affected by the fights taking place, because this is his family, this is the place where he belongs. give me a scooby who is like a mother, who’d give his heart and life for his friends, who, when walking around and spots something shiny or pretty, takes it back and gives them to his friends, who collects all these pretty stones and ends up making the girls’ a necklace and who ends up making friendship bracelets, who hurts everytime he realises there are some things he cannot do with his friends because he’s a dog.

just give me the gang as badass best friends, children who take on the world and break every gender roles, stereotypes and boxes and who are there for each other.

headcanon prompts i guess


  • What is their concept of ‘healthy eating’ and, by their standards, do they eat healthily?
  • If not, is there a particular reason why? ie, can’t afford fresh food, don’t like vegetables, because it’s convienent?
  • How many meals do they eat/day? How often do they snack?
  • Favorite foods for various meals. Favourite desserts and snacks. Favourite drinks.
  • Do they drink alcohol, and if so: what type, how much, how often?
  • Do they drink caffeine, and if so: what type, how much, how often?
  • Food allergies? Do they eat food they are allergic to anyway?
  • Dietary restrictions? If so, are they medical, religious, or self-imposed?
  • If they had to eat only one food for the rest of their lives with no negative effects on their health, what would it be? (Consider taste, texture…)
  • If they had to give up one food for the rest of their lives, what would it be? (Not a food they already don’t eat.)
  • Food they would describe with the “better than sex” cliche.
  • Is dessert before supper ok?
  • As a child, did their parents make them ‘clear their plate’?
  • Do they have any eating disorders?
  • Thoughts on food touching?
  • Do they eat breakfast?
  • Do they eat standing up or do they sit?
  • How do they eat skittles/other small coloured candies? ie, do they sort them out first, eat them in a particular order, squish them first? One at a time or giant handfuls? 
  • Do they eat with their hands or use utensils?


  • Are they a night owl or an early bird?
  • Do they sleep enough?
  • Can they fall asleep anywhere? If not, what conditions do they need to fall asleep? ie darkness, bed, ambient noise.
  • When in bed, do they fall asleep on their tummy or their back or their side?
  • Do they wake up in that same position?
  • Any sleep disorders? If so, how do they deal with the issue/symptoms?
  • How many pillows and blankets do they have?
  • Do they sleep with a special stuffed animal or blanket or other comfort item?
  • Do they talk during their sleep, or snore, or kick?
  • Do they sleepwalk & if so, how bad is it?
  • Do they dream? Are their dreams good, bad, just plain weird, or prophetic? Do they remember their dreams when they wake up? Do they keep a dream journal?


  • Do they use public restrooms freely or only when absolutely necessary?
  • TP: under or over?
  • Do they prefer baths or showers? What temperature do they like their water? How long do they take, and how much of that time is actually spent washing?
  • Do they sing in the shower?
  • How do they keep their teeth clean?
  • How do they pamper themselves? ie, long bubble baths etc.
Panic! at the hook-up (part 2)

Rating: M

Pairing: AkaFuri. MuraHimu. MidoTaka.

Characters: Akashi. Furihata. Himuro. Takao. Murasakibara. Mibuchi.

Word Count: 8900+ words (yikes!) 

Tags: Aged-Up Characters. One Night Stand AU. Fluff. Misunderstandings. Awkward dorks are awkward. Introspection. NebuMibu if you squint.

Parts: Part 1/Part 2(here)

Summary: Akashi woke up after a drunk one night stand feeling at peace with the world. Unfortunately the brunet in his arms doesn’t seem to think the same way. (or an AU where Furi and Akashi have been scarred by terrible relationships in the past that one never wants to get into them and one waits in vain for someone to love him back)

Author’s notes : This chapter is not edited because I wanted to post it while I still got a handle on my writing drive. So, any mistakes, I will get to it when I find time. I went for a longer update because this has been pending for too long. Hope I am not dumping too much to take. Also, changed the title since I deemed that a cliché fic needed a cliché title. I sound like a mom leaving her kid in daycare bYE.

AO3 Link right here!

“Downtown, as fast as you can!! Hurry!”

Banging open the door, Kouki jumped in and promptly slumped against the back seat of the taxi after yelling instructions to the driver.

Well, that hadn’t been awkward and scarring at all.

Shutting his eyes and tipping his head back, he waited for his heartbeat to slow down from its rapid pace. He was still panting from all the panicked running and his ass hurt from him slamming down on the uncomfortable material of the seat. Despite the…..delicate position his ass was in, he had been able to run this fast, he thought wryly. He pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, evening out his breathing with every passing second.

Oh god oh god oh god-

Deciding this was the best opportunity, his mind conjured up images of the stunning redhead and put it on a continuous annoying loop. Some were blurred and hazy and had too much of red but some were far too clear for him not to wince over. Those wide, gorgeous eyes, that glorious body he had come to appreciate so much last night, that velvety voice moaning wordlessly in his ear - sending shivers down his spine even now (pleasant shivers, good shivers, really good) - and ultimately, the words exchanged scant few minutes earlier that had sent him careening towards the door.

Oh. My. GOD.

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