#all can get fast food after

[shadelorde]

okay so I saw someone say celiac disease isn’t a disability because ‘all you have to do is avoid gluten’ and I. I’m about to lose my shit.

are you not fucking aware of how much gluten is present in everyday life? Are you not aware how mild cross-contamination can KILL people with celiac? Are you not aware how some kids are raised EATING GLUTEN, IRREVERSIBLY destroying their immune system and the lining of their stomach because their parents didn’t know or didn’t bother to find out what was wrong?

You can help mitigate the effects of some disabilities by doing certain things, but that doesn’t make them NOT disabilities.

Celiac disease is an autoimmune disorder. It is not the same as a mild intolerance. It can and will destroy your stomach and intestines.

Jesus fucking Christ.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[thepandalion]

not to be annoying or anything but it's been 9 years since the release of indie game undertale

[accipitae]

Suddenly stressing out so so so much because farrier school starts march 31st and i still need to find an apartment near the school and also buy all my tools and also buy new work boots and also more jeans because i only have like 2 pairs left (???) and also need to get a trailer hitch installed on my car so i can even drive my stuff up to Minnesota in the first place and also-

[books-coffee-and-the-woods]

on the drive to the park today I passed the library and thought "I haven't been reading as many library books as I hoped to this year, when I get home I should go through my For Later list and just choose 5 or so that look interesting!"

and uh

as usual my holds-requesting exceeds expectations.

[e-m-p-error]

Which of your muses is the best at cooking?

Which of them is the worst at cooking?

Which of your muses is more likely to burn their food, whether or not they can cook?

Which of your muses is more likely to eat something even if it has fallen on a dirty floor?

Which of your muses is more likely to talk in their sleep?

Which of your muses sleeps the most?

Which of them is more likely to suffer from insomnia?

Which of your muses is more likely to have sleepwalking episodes? {{ Pick whichever muses. <3 }}

𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 !

Which of your muses is the best at cooking?

Vick is really good at cooking! He makes cozy cooking Voxtube videos and it is a way that he relaxes!

Valentino is a surprisingly good cook but it takes a lot for him to cook for someone. He only sees cooking for someone as a sign of love and he will not do it for you if he does not love you dearly.

Velvette is a lover of all things food and enjoys cooking and making potions. She can heal you with her food or kill you with it depending on what she wants to do!

Bee is a fantastic cook and she prides herself on her food conjuring!

Which of them is the worst at cooking?

Ostello cannot cook very well at all. He could probably burn water and has made mistakes while trying to cook. Usually he orders food in.

Fizzarolli is an awful cook, he can burn cereal and nobody knows how he's done it.

Cash is a good cook if and only if you count preparing frozen meals and boxed dinners as cooking.

Which of your muses is more likely to burn their food, whether or not they can cook?

Fizzarolli, hands down. He can burn anything even if he doesn't cook. Don't let him get involved with food preparation.

Which of your muses is more likely to eat something even if it has fallen on a dirty floor?

Cash will eat anything even if iit's off the floor or in the dirt. Food is food.

Barbie is the same way, she learned from her daddy.

Mammon will scoop food off the floor to eat it if he likes it enouogh.

Which of your muses is more likely to talk in their sleep?

Valentino murmurs a lot in his sleep when he's dreaming. He doesn't speak very clearly, however.

Bee talks in her sleep but her words never make much sense.

Athan talks a lot in his sleep and is very forthcoming with information when sleepy.

Which of your muses sleeps the most?

Already answered here!

Which of them is more likely to suffer from insomnia?

Vick suffers from insomnia like nobody's business. It was a problem when he was alive, too, and is the reason why he died.

Which of your muses is more likely to have sleepwalking episodes?

Fizzarolli has them from time to time.

[trauma-trove]

I hate that I'm held at social gunpoint to never EVER be anything but picture perfect niceness while doctors and nurses bully me and treat me like shit. It drives me insane. I tried being transparent with my last nurse about how my dietary problems, thyroid probpems, and chronic pain treatment was really going to interfere with a procedure and that I wanted to schedule it AFTER my other appointments and procedures. She told me "well, I can't do anything about that. The doctor wants it done." I tore the instructions she gave me right in front of her. They were salvageable. I could tape them together. But she looked at me like I called her a fucking slur.

"Oh but think of the doctor/nurse/receptionist you're doing that to! Every time a patient loses it, more medical practitioners leave the field!"

I.

Don't.

Care.

You're DOING this TO ME. I have the right of being the victim here. If someone is pushed and forced and coerced and bullied and assaulted enough times, they have a right to treat their offenders like shit.

I'm fucking sick of it.

[glompcat]

There are exceptions to this worth noting.

Marshal protocols, where people sign up to help ensure a march runs safely and smoothly, dictate that every person on the marshal team provide the organizers with their legal name, phone number, emergency contact, and a list of what medications they are on and where they can be located.

The phone number, in this day and age, mainly is to get added to the day of signal chat for coordinating things.

The other information is to ensure that if someone on the marshal team is arrested (and marshals are supposed to try and get arrested instead of other march goers if they can) their emergency contact will be notified and someone from the marshal team will be able to work on getting them their meds if they are held longer than overnight (marshals are always asked to arrive with a night worth of meds they absolutely can not skip for a night on them with proof of the prescription in case of arrest). The legal name is then needed to locate them within the system, and so the legal team can do what they need to do (any protest that was organized properly has legal representation).

These are march safety protocols that have been in place for many many many organizations since at least Act Up (the person who first trained me in these things - and there is far far far far far more than this - had been an Act Up organizer in the 80s and knew them from there) and if you are helping to coordinate or organize a protest, being asked for these details (and often more than these things, marshal contact forms are no joke!) it is simply a sign of good organization.

I'm sorry but it's way too sketchy to have to "sign up" for a protest. There's no reason you should have to give anyone your full name, email, phone number, and/or address in order to march in the streets. People are getting arrested left and right because cops have access to information that connects people to the protests they were at. If an organization is having people "sign up to join the fight," all the cops need to do is access that list.

Just go. Don't leave a fucking paper trail.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

My mom told me the other day that it was gonna seem like I was trying to date my friend if I payed for her ticket to a show, so maybe you should try and pay for his food and that’ll indicate your intentions lol 😅

LMAO fuck maybe I could try that 😂

[moonxq]

i hate how common it is (for me at least??) for people to shame me for not having good health. as if there is a miracle nutritional supplement or diet that would instantly fix all my issues for sure and i'm just not trying hard enough. i promise that in all my years of being alive i have tried any possible 'solution' that you could think of. killing everyone

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Chewby just wants to lay on her outside bed in the sun

Val thinks this is very boring

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP - Death and Taxes

Broke college student but also the Ghost King Danny looking at the stack of complaint forms in his inbox about people cheating death. In a stroke of sleep deprived inspiration, he issues a royal decree that anyone who has properly died before (I.e biologically dead, not just clinically dead) is still a citizen of the Infinite Realms, even if they were resurrected. And have to pay income tax to the Crown.

He establishes the Infinite Realms Revenue Service, recruits the ghosts of some meticulous accountants and sends them after all the assholes who think they can escape Death and Taxes. Starting with the worst offenders (ie those who have escaped death the longest/most often). Your tax bracket scales with how many times you died.

Just picture Ra's al-Ghul, in the middle of giving some speech to his assassin cult when this Phil Coulson looking ghost dude shows up behind him to "discuss the back taxes he owes to the Crown".

Every magic user worth their salt is suddenly swamped with messages from panicked villains and heroes who are trying to figure out wtf is going on and how to get out of this. Constantine is sweating bullets.

Danny hires Valerie to do mortal side "casework", because a, she's just as saddled with student debt as he is b, has worked fast food and knows how to handle asshole customers c, doesn't take shit from anybody.

Imagine Vandal Savage, Felix Faust and Red Hood awkwardly sitting in a waiting room with a stack of documents each, ready for their number to be called so they can dispute their claims. Being called in and utterly flummoxed at the unflappable, bored young woman at the desk who somehow has files on everything about you - birth record, death record(s), who you killed and when records... now declare your income as a crime lord/dictator/sorcerer, sir.

Meanwhile Danny is planning on how he can allocate the taxes to open a soup kitchen for Lunch Lady to work at and similar shit. He is determined to be a good king, dammit!

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[eraserbread]

you and your husband, nanami, have endured your fair share of struggles but, nothing held a flame to postpartum

week three of being a mother was the hardest.

all those sleepness nights between you and kento have finally caught up to you, and your body is fully, finally spent. minds are on a limb, and most days with you and your husband are spent transactionally.

it doesn't help that you woke up this morning with the worst, most painful lump in your breast. you noticed it and decided to feed baby girl on your freezer stash. going about the fast-paced morning with it in the back of your mind, deciding not to burden your husband.

he's already completely out of his element when he's cleaning up after the night shift and nursing breakfast on the stove so you can get your daughter situated. you couldn't bother him—not now.

not until you're kicked back up in bed, nursing pillow around your waist as your newborn suckles helplessly at your reddened, bruised nipple. research you've been scrolling through tells you to keep feeding from it - that the clog will come out with force, but your baby is just too gentle. gumming and suckling at your nipple did nothing but make fires erupt in your breast, face twisted up in agony as you toss your head back to the headboard.

"don't mean to interrupt." kento pushes into the bedroom with a sprawling breakfast tray in his hands. he's carrying a burp cloth on his shoulder, shirtless as he approaches you. "what's wrong?"

"think my milk duct is clogged," you reply, breathless. you've had enough of the pain, so you sit up just enough to switch your daughter to the other nipple - the nipple running on fumes, trying to keep up with the exclusive use.

kento leans over the bed, tracing his finger across his daughter's soft, suckling cheek. she has a tendency to fall asleep while nursing, letting dribbles of milk spill from her little lips. kento loves this, never understanding why you get so flustered about it. when she's asleep like this, the face she stole from him starts to fade into something reminiscent of yours.

"ju- just take her," you whine, trying to gather your composure as you massage the throbbing lump.

kento does whatever you say, now. he immediately takes your daughter into his safe, strong hands, turning and placing her at the bedside bassinet. It's a seamless maneuver; she doesn't even stir.

"i'm going to go crazy. i feel like i'm scrambling and drowning." you're starting to bead sweat at your hairline, deciding to stop in the meantime and pull your bra back up. "thank you for the food. love you so much."

"hey." kento sits down at your propped legs, massaging his hands across the covered skin. "you have me, and I know it's not very comforting to hear when you feel like this, but I will do everything I can... I love you, too."

"no, you're perfect. you're so patient and understanding - dealing with so much of my shit and still working full-time."

"you just birthed a human, give yourself some grace."

"but it's impossible when my body repeatedly fails me."

kento's seen you in many states, but the way you act regarding your daughter is a new kind of monster—a beautiful, passionate monster clawing at your skin that he can't feel; he can only see it.

so, he reaches for his safeword. "what can I do to help?"

"okay." you're shuffling in bed, sheets bunched around your body. against your propped knees he leans, giving you a reassuring kiss over your jaw. "just... just suck, please. you don't have to swallow, I'm sure a lot of milk won't come out."

"it's okay," he nods, helping you push your strap over your shoulder. you're clutching your breast, fingers ghosting over the rock-hard clog just above the nipple. he leans forward and takes it between his lips, warm lips covering the expanse as he starts sucking gently.

even his gentleness is 10x stronger than his daughters, and it makes you throw your head back in a hiss. "Ow, ow, ow, ow—keep going."

so he does. he's holding you, running his hand over your side for some comfort as he works your nipple over. you peek down to look at him, mesmerized by the hollows in his cheeks. you tangle your hand in his hair, swollen with admiration for him as his throat bobs down your milk.

he's flushed and enjoying this, and if it didn't feel like you were being branded by a hot iron, you'd enjoy it, too.

you're crying by the time you feel a pop, then instant relief. it makes you shudder out a thankful moan. "ah, keep going..." you rush, hand massaging back over the softening lump until it's fully dissipated. "ugh, iloveyousomuch, you got it."

kento pulls away with flushed lips, licking over them to bring some moisture back. you pull him into a thankful kiss, trying so hard to hold back hormonal tears when you look at him.

every time you think he cannot get any closer, he's helping you change out your postpartum underwear, standing behind you when you can't see your birth stitches and clean properly. he never mentions more than what he knows you need to hear, and that quiet, thoughtful stoicness is exactly what you need.

his unwavering patience and love were formed in the darkest of times, only to shine light on the happiest.

you two sit side by side and share a cold breakfast, no words breaking the sanctuary you created. he just wants to bite pieces of fruit between your teeth and kiss your sweetness away.

whispering as your daughter starts to stir with hunger,

"you amaze me."

[kisssukuna33]

Thinking about your Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always uses you as his personal food critic whenever he experiments with a new dish. You are the first to taste it before it goes into the restaurant menu. When you question him about it one time he said you're his personal lucky charm because whenever you taste a new dish first it instantly becomes a hit in the menu.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who has a whole wall dedicated to you and the pics of you two together in his restaurant. Oh but did I mention about the big wall art next to those pics? A wall art of you smiling that he painted himself. He still talks about that art piece proudly to this day.

Chef HusbandSukuna! who has no problem attracting customers. His restaurant is widely known in the town as one of the best spots but the only problem he faces is when people come into his restaurant being attracted to something other than his food. You can only imagine the amount of thirsty comments from both men and women under his restaurant reviews.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who HATES it when people flirt with him even after clearly seeing the wedding ring he wears daily. That's why he lets his co-workers do all the serving and he rarely comes out of the kitchen until someone ask for his presence.

And whenever a customer flirt with him or ask for his number he straight up points to the wall art of you displayed in the restaurant and murmur "my wife" as he go back into the kitchen unbothered.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who never lets you cook anything in the kitchen. He always prepare you food and snacks whenever you ask him without complaining and you slowly came to realize that's his way of showing his love for you. And when he prepares food for you it's never anything simple either,he makes sure his wife eats a 5 star meal everyday.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who takes it as personal offense whenever you recommend take out for dinner. He doesn't understand why you want to eat that unhealthy junk shit when you have a whole chef as your husband.

"Just say you don't love me anymore"

"Kuna.. You are being dramatic I asked it for a change not because I don't love your cooking"

"Then marry a fast food worker that way you can eat junk shit everyday"

"Sukuna!!"

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always decorate your bento box so cutely when you go to work. He doesn't miss with the hello kitty shaped rice balls and the heart shaped vegetables everytime. One time you remember your coworker asking if you're married to a woman because they refuse to believe a bento box that cute was a work of a man.

Safe to say your coworker was even more suprised after seeing the intimidating 6'4 tatted man who came to pick you up later.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always knows to prioritize you over his beloved restaurant. You are sick? Yeah he closes the restaurant and stay by your side all day taking care of you. You want to go on a date? Say no more restaurant is closed within a minute. You took a day off ? yeah the restaurant is closed that day. You wonder how he even keep up the popularity of this restaurant like this.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always loves telling people the story about how you two met and how his restaurant took off after he started dating you. In his eyes you were a blessing given to him. He always wonder how his life started getting better and better after meeting you. A cold heart that was completely untouched by everyone started melting at the presence of yours.

But one thing he knows is that he's going to cherish the blessing given to him for the rest of his life.

[classyrbf]

thinking about welcoming home husband!toji after he’s had a long day at work. He walks in the door and kicks off his work boots, his hands are stained from oil and dirt, a side effect of working on cars all day long. His eyes are heavy from tiredness, but all that goes away when he sees you in the kitchen, turning to look at him with a smile on your face while cooking some delicious smelling food. “Hey, baby,” you greet, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Rough day?” Toji loves how he doesn’t even have to say anything and you can already tell he hasn’t had the best day so far. His arms snakes around your waist, lazily smiling down at you. “Not the best, but it’s already better being back home.” He pecks your lips again. “Well, I’m cooking your favorite right now. So, hurry up and get your ass in the shower, you smell like oil.” You scrunch up your nose, making Toji laugh. After about twenty minutes or so, he makes his way out the bathroom, hair damp, body clean, and the fresh aroma of his dinner waiting at the table puts a smile on his face. “Thank you for dinner.” He kisses your cheek as you pour him a glass of ice water. He sits at the table and immediately starts eating, moaning in satisfaction when he tastes it. “Goddamn, this shit tastes good.” He takes another bite. You let out a small giggle, taking your first bite. “Don’t eat so fast! You know your stomach will start hurting.” You try and warn him but he just shakes his head at you. “Don’t care, I’ve been starving all day and come back home to my wife’s amazing cooking. I’m eating as much as I can.” And he does. He eats another plate until conks out in the bedroom, his heavy muscular body laying halfway on yours, head in your chest and arms around your waist while he sleeps like a baby. Your fingernails lightly scratch at his back, a soothing sensation that always makes Toji feel so relaxed and safe. “Goodnight.” You kiss the top of his head, turning off your bedside lamp shortly after.