#that the places I go to more often don't accidentally contaminate me

[clorofolle]

Longish rant about gluten free restaurants and the way they handle contamination under the cut!

Today I went to a pizza restaurant that offers gluten free options. I ask if there's a separate menu I can choose from, get told that nah, but also it's up to my discretion, depending on how much I react to contamination, to choose wisely. He gives me a short list of very bland/simple pizzas and says those are guaranteed contamination-free, while every other topping gets made in block but I can put them on the gluten free pizza base.

I'm blown away - it's hard to find people in food service 1) knowledgeable enough about contamination to understand that different people might take a different approach to them, and 2) honest enough to tell you how their process works!

I don't show symptoms/don't feel sick from a little contamination, and do blood work yearly to make sure I'm not accidentally ingesting too much gluten, and I've been 100% clean n good since I was a kid. I have an Extremely rigid gluten free diet at home, precisely so I can account for a little bit of contamination the few times I eat out. I never eat things with wheat in them of course, but I also can afford not to care if there's been indirect contamination in tools, kitchenware, frying oil etc. I know this because I've been celiac since I was a kid and know how I work by now.

So when I place my order and another guy comes out and tells that No, Actually I can only choose from those three bland pizzas, they have a responsibility, they cannot put toppings that they can't assure are not contaminated in the slightest, even if I take full responsibility, that's really disappointing!! Like I'm not gonna give the restaurant shit for it, it's good that they care about this stuff, and the guy was absolutely just doing his job.

But also - it very much feels like them trying to tell me how *my* health thing works. I wonder what kind of weird system they have in place - I suppose there's gotta be some legal reason for them to be soo strict about this, maybe they can legally be sued if they served that pizza as "gluten free"?

The best way I've seen a restaurant handle this, was saying that they offer burgers "with gluten free bread". So they can't say it's "gluten free burgers", and most sensitive individuals can avoid that place. But also, the other ingredients don't CONTAIN any gluten, per se, it's a way to say "there COULD be some contamination", and it's really smart, imo.

Fun thing is - pizza restaurant I went in didn't even have a second oven just for the gluten free stuff. I can tell bc my pizza had the classical "circular aluminium container" shape. And AFAIK, that's another actual red flag for very sensitive individuals, because Neapolitan style ovens are not usually kept too much clean, and there's like flour all around inside them (if your pizza gets a burnt bottom, it's probably bc of a dirty oven). So like uhh? You only have one oven? And you couldn't put a non-fried vegetable and cheese on my pizza?

Anyways I hope they find some legal loophole to get ppl like me more yummy pizzas. Because I actually LOVE when places are upfront about possible contaminations - it helps me keep count. I've definitely had places that claimed to be "gluten free" and then what I received had me doubt they even knew what that meant. A good compromise CAN be reached.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi! Hello! I heard you wanted some requests! So, may I request the SDV bachelors with a crush or S/O who is coeliac? Basically, they're allergic to gluten and it can make them very sick if they eat it. Cross contamination is also a big issue (spoon touch bread -> spoon touch salad -> can't eat salad)!

Hope this isn't a bad ask! Have a lovely week! :]

Hi Snake, glad to see you in my askbox! 👋

And don't worry, that's a pretty good question. I hope you like this silly HC. Have a lovely week as well 😊

Alex:

Alex always reminds his grandmother about Farmers' gluten intolerance, as Evelyn often cooks pies, donuts, and other sweet pastries for a visiting guest at their house.

Paranoidly checks all utensils the Farmer will eat and drink with, making sure the cutlery has not previously touched wheat bread or similar food.

Fast as lightning, he is ready to carry the Farmer in his arms to Harvey's clinic if they get sick from accidentally eating bread.

Alex keeps track of his diet, because he is going to become a sports star, so if the Farmer wants, he will help with the diet (in consultation with Dr. Harvey, of course).

Although sometimes it is difficult for him to refuse the delicious pastries of his granny.

The Farmer doesn't want Alex to limit himself in this, but the athlete is seriously worried about the health of his friend (crush)/partner.

George benefits from it all ("More food for me!" "Grandpa...")

Elliott:

Oh goodness! Elliott didn't know about it.

But it's good that the Farmer told him about their gluten intolerance. He would not want to hurt his close friend because of his and ignorance.

"Excuse me, my friend, I'll leave you for a moment. Make yourself at home in my little cabin."

Elliott ran as fast as he could towards the Saloon.

"Gus, emergency! The table for two is still stands, but gluten-free meals must be served! This is important! Don't even touch the baked goods please, I beg you! I can't let them go to the hospital because of me, I can handle it if something bad happened to them! Goodness me!"

Gus knew from the first minute that the dishes needed to be served gluten-free, but the emotional writer still continued to punish himself for not knowing about Farmer's illness.

"He's a fine drama actor, alright" Gus thought, pretending he was still listening to the dramatic writer.

Elliott is willing to sacrifice his favorite crab cakes to keep the Farmer happy and healthy.

"I can make them without flour, just have something to replace."

"Gus, why didn't you say that! Then I order, for me and my partne-, I mean, a good friend! Oh, marvelous!"

Any whim at your expense, Mr. Writer.

Sam:

The Farmer has never eaten pizza?!

Sam is saddened by the realization that because of the coeliac, the Farmer is unable to taste the food of the gods, the great invention of mankind, the food without which almost none of his rehearsals with Abigail and Sebastian take place.

"Dude, it's just pizza." "Just pizza?! Seb, how can you say that!"

But without pizza-drama, Sam is now very careful about this information.

He doesn't give the Farmer any snack that has gluten in it.

Sam will tell his mom about it, in case the Farmer comes to visit and the musician himself is not there.

He also asks her if there is a recipe for gluten-free pizza.

"Because man, pizza is a great human creation that everyone need to try. And no intolerance should prevent people from being happy!"

(Sammy, it's just pizza)

Luckily for him, Jodi just happened to have a gluten-free recipe book. And, lo and behold, the pizza recipe is there too!

Jodi made it especially for the Farmer, as the Farmer is also her friend, a real sweetheart, and Sam seems to like them a lot ;) ("Mom!")

The pizza was really tasty. And the Farmer can safely eat it with Sam without fear for their health.

Indeed, the food of the gods!

Harvey:

Oh, Harvey understands Farmer very well. And not only as their doctor, but also as another person who doesn't tolerate gluten.

Friend or partner, he will never forget this when cooking if the Farmer dropped by to visit Harvey. He also doesn't forget about this when dispensing medicines and vitamins if the Farmer has caught a cold or other illness.

If they feel bad about accidentally eating a cookie, then Harvey will immediately come running to their call.

No wonder Harvey is very concerned about Farmer's health - he's a doctor after all, and the effects of coeliac can be very unpleasant (and sometimes life-threatening).

He still doesn't ever lose his temper if there's an emergency, so Harvey's friend (or spouse) is in safe hands.

The doctor is sorry that this disease is incurable. But it's not even that he and the Farmer can't eat pastries (Harvey dislike sweets and pies anyway, preferring vegetables and healthier food). It's just that even the slightest touch of your cutlery with gluten food can provoke an exacerbation of symptoms.

But he will keep an eye on this as often as possible, and the Farmer will also remind Harvey of this if he gets busy and accidentally reaches for a box of biscuits in Pierre's store, confusing it with a box of rice.

Shane:

Coel-what? Can you repeat again?

It took Shane a little longer to figure out what the disease was. So the Farmer can't eat anything with gluten or they'll get sick?

"...Listen, I recently had a burger and pizza in the Saloon, and my hands are still a little dirty after eating. Should I move away from you?"

Shane immediately moved a meter away from the Farmer when they confirmed that cross contamination could also be a problem.

The Farmer feels guilty after this, but Shane told them not to worry about it. After all, it is not their fault that they are gluten intolerant.

"Maybe I fucked my own health, but I don't want to harm other people's health. I'm not a complete asshole."

Before meeting with the Farmer, he began to wash his hands more often.

Sometimes he will defend the Farmer at the fair if someone persistently offers the Farmer to taste the pastries.

Also, eggs don't contain gluten, so they can make a good launch for a guest who comes to Marnie's Ranch (or for a spouse's breakfast)

His chickens will never let you down. Good girls!

Sebastian:

"Oh, sorry..."

"Sebby, what are you sorry for?"

Well, doesn't that mean it will restrict his friend the Farmer from growing certain crops, like wheat, for example? It's just... sad.

Moreover, he just wanted to invite the Farmer to his basement for another Solarion Chronicles: The Game with snacks. But Sam always brings pizza and Abigail brings blueberry cobbler...

No, he doesn't want it to limit his friendship with the Farmer because of that. Therefore, Sebastian still invites the Farmer, promising that he will arrange everything.

Fortunately, Sam and Abby were sympathetic to the situation and prepared gluten-free snacks, since there was a lot of choice.

Although Sam was still a little dramatic. "They've never had pizza?! It's -" "Sam, shut up already."

The board game sessions were just as fun, and the seeki were delicious too.

Sebastian will now henceforth remember Farmer's coeliac. He also wanted to ask them out on a date- uh, he mean just have some fun time in the Saloon, play pool, maybe walk around the city after...

"A night with billiards and no pizza? Is this even legal? :D" "SAM!!!"

[wakkoroni]

Batfam Scripts/Incorrect Quotes: pt 9

This isn't much of an incorrect quote as it is more of headcanon? I have no idea what this is. But it has mini scripts in it?

But I want you guys to hear me out. You guys know the sticky hand thingys?

These bois right here.^

Hear me out-

The Robins used these to collect evidence, the toy is sticky to collect dust or anything really. And it's stretchy so if the substance is dangerous all they have to do is throw it, and the thing they are trying to collect will stick, and then they just stuff it in a bag and call it a day.

But I want y'all to imagine, Batman, not knowing Robin! Dick has the sticky hands in their belt.

I imagine the interaction going a little something like this:

Batman: *looking at the remains of a villain attack and colorful dust everywhere* Robin, collect some dust so we can examine it in the cave

Robin!Dick: *reaching into their belt and unwrapping a sticky hand (because sanitation)* Sure thing B, *slaps the hand in the dust and takes it back and places it in the bag*

Batman: ... Robin, what was that?

Robin: My new toy

Bruce is just so done with his child to even question it because it got the job done. Dick started this (obviously) and passed it on to the other Robins but Jason takes it to a new level and starts smacking people with it, but he does this at first on complete accident,

He was collecting evidence and he hears someone walking behind him and on instinct he uses the first thing in his hand to defend himself (ahem... The sticky hand) and smacks them. Turns out it was Batman. Batman is unamused with a blue sticky hand hanging from his cowl, and Jason finds this hilarious. He will now, anytime he wants Batman's attention, just smack them with a sticky hand.

Batman, everytime is like "Robin... Stop it" but eventually it proves useful when a villain tries to grab Jason and he smacks them with a sticky hand and it baffles them long enough for him to get away or at least fight back. Batman can't say anything to him anymore because it actually helped.

Tim uses the sticky hand like a little gremlin. He uses it the way it's supposed to be used (to gather evidence) but also will smack villains. He will not smack Batman with it because that'll just make him sad because Jason used to do it all the time and now Jason is dead so- no. (I apologize, I don't know much of Robin!Tim to add but if you wanna add, feel free to)

Steph is a MENACE with the sticky hand like she will find reasons to take one and use it. Like oh look this dust looks kinda suspicious... Yeet! She is so chaotic with it. The rouges by now already know of the sticky hand and they aren't scared of it but they know if they see it, they're in trouble. Steph notices it and uses it so whenever she walks into a warehouse she will smack the area around her with the hand, and the rouge is like 0.0. Imagine casually plotting your evil scheme and all you hear is the slap of the toy and because the warehouse is empty it just echos. Sounds terrifying, right?

But also I feel like since she's always using the sticky hand, she will accidentally cross contaminate the evidence

Bruce: Robin why do you have two sticky hands

Steph!Robin: I have one to randomly smack stuff and one that collected the residue of the gas

Bruce, noticing both the hands are the same color: and which one is which

Robin: well this one I've been using to smack everything and this one...*noticing the other hand is clean* um...

Batman: Robin...

Robin: I mean the residue is still on it, it just has like Gotham dirt on it, and other stuff

Batman: *sigh*

Robin: ✌️

Damian would not use them often. He sees them as "childish" and "beneath him" but eventually warms up to the idea but not because it's fun, no, an Al Ghul doesn't do fun, but because it's practical. (He tries to convince his siblings but they all know he finds it fun and it's ok because he's still a child, and children can have fun with sticky hands) [but like also anyone can have fun with the sticky hands, they'll be so time consuming for no reason]

I'm going to go sidetracked for a bit because I just realized another use for the sticky hands, distracting traumatized children. Like Robin saves a child but child is crying... Just give them a clean sticky hand and let them play with it. I'm a genius!

[willow-salix]

The Shirt

This little thing is for @misssquidtracy and @soniabigcheese and was supposed to be a ficlet (tell that to the 2.5k that came out). It came about after a throw away comment to Sonia last night and then John ‘helpfully’ dropped the whole thing in my head fully formed. Enjoy!

Thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for the gorgeous shot of this dude!

"I don't need any new clothes, I told you that."

"And I didn't listen. Come on, John, you haven't bought anything new since college."

"And I'm happy with that, all of my clothes are perfectly serviceable," John continued to argue as Gordon towed him into yet another shop. 

As always they drew attention, Gordon because of his loud voice and, according to him, his swimmers body that the women loved. Gordon had always loved to be the center of attention, he'd reveled in it back in his Olympic days, proud of the knowledge that his promotional pictures had graced many a teenagers phone backgrounds and lock screens. 

John, on the other hand, had no idea what people saw in him and why they still watched him even when he was with his brothers. He knew his hair always drew looks and over the years he'd heard more than a few people whispering something about checking if he was a natural redhead, although he'd never wanted to stick around to listen too closely and had gotten out of there sharpish. He'd much rather just be left alone to fade into the background where his introverted wallflower tendencies could be appeased. 

"Well, I need new clothes and you can't leave a man to shop on his own, it's just not done," Gordon continued. 

"I'm pretty sure there's no such rule."

"I'm making it a rule, it's part of the bro code now," Gordon shot back, flicking through yet another rack of eye-wateringly bright shirts that even Hawaii would have disowned. 

"I reject your rule."

"You can't, I'm your baby brother, you have to be nice to me, that's in the bro code too."

"I demand to see written proof of this rule book that you seem to keep pulling things from whenever it suits you."

Gordon glanced at his brother, seeing his lips twitch as he fought valiantly to keep any display of amusement firmly at bay. John didn't often get the chance to hang out with his younger brother but he always enjoyed it, not that he'd ever admit that out loud, that would only encourage Gordon to up his annoyance level by at least five points. 

"Ha! You smiled, I'm off the hook!" 

"I did no such thing."

"You did, I saw it! The robot had a feeling- ow!" Gordon ducked out of the way, avoiding another cuff around the back of the head from his, far too lanky for his own good, brother who apparently had the reach of an orangutan. 

"I'm not a robot, you little jerk. Stand still so I can hit you properly." And there went the warm fuzzy feelings. Back to reminding himself just why said hang outs didn't happen more often. 

"Yeah, right! Like that's gonna happen." Gordon shimmied backwards through the rack of shirts that made the sun look dull and out the other side to freedom. "Too much time in space has made you slow, bro!" 

"What? HOW DARE YOU!" Without thinking John dived around the side of the rack, stretching out to grab at his grinning brother. "I'll show you who's slow!" 

"I am lightning, I am the wind!" Gordon dodged aside with perfect ease, avoiding the grasping fingers of his brother. 

"Full of wind, more like! Stand still!" How was the squid so fast? 

"Come on, old man, keep up!" 

John made another grab at the back of Gordon's shirt but the little shit wiggled out of his grasp like an eel. 

"Ha! Victory is mine!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about th-" WHUMP! John spluttered, screeching to a stop as he got a face full of fabric, evidently thrown by Gordon who'd decided that weapons were now in play. 

He flailed, tripping over the leg of a clothing rack as he stumbled blindly. He made a grab for the first solid feeling thing he could find, although his judgement of solid was woefully inadequate. He landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs, both his own and plastic, as the mannequin he'd inadvertently grabbed fell with him. 

"Gordon," he gasped, winded from his tumble, but the sound of his brother's hysterical laughter was all that he received by way of an answer. 

He yanked the material off his head, a shirt of some description by the looks of it, and staggered to his feet, dragging his dance partner up with him. 

He managed to get her upright and back on her stand after a great deal of huffing and many swear words muttered under his breath as Gordon continued to howl like a hyena, hanging onto a mirror to stop his own downward descent. 

Yanking her skirt back up where he'd accidentally yanked it down, John finally got the mannequin back in place and decently covered up. 

"Gordon stop laughing!" he ordered as he bent to pick up the shirt that had assaulted him before angrily turning to face his brother. 

"What a clumsy idiot," he heard someone whisper a few rows over, stopping him in his tracks. "Keep out of the way, he'll take us down with him next."

John ducked his head, his cheeks as red as his hair, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He hated being the center of attention and now, he risked a peek to confirm his suspicions, yep, now the whole store was looking at him. Great, just perfect. 

"I'm never coming shopping with you again," he hissed in Gordon's direction. 

"Too right. Did you see the shirt he's holding?" the woman's friend whispered back. "Anyone that picks out something like that should be avoided at all costs."

"He's looking, quick, pretend you haven't seen him!" Both women quickly looked away, suddenly extremely interested in a nearby coat. 

What were they talking about? John glanced down at the pile of fabric still clutched in his clenched fist. It was definitely a shirt of some description, beigey-brown in colour, but not just one shade, oh no, this monstrosity had at least four other shades of brown thrown in for good measure, all coming together in wavy lines of what-was-this-designer-thinking to form some kind of texan nightmare, complete with gaudy gold piping. It truly was hideous, quite honestly the most disgusting thing he'd ever laid eyes on and he'd trained with astronauts who didn't have control of their digestive systems yet. 

He looked around desperately to find somewhere to hide it away from his sight, ignoring Gordon who was taking deep breaths in an effort to calm down. 

There! He spotted a convenient looking pile of sweatpants on a shelf and moved over to stuff the offending article back into the depth of hell from whence it had crawled when a single, solitary thought tickled at the back of his brain. 

He paused, thinking, his brain hamster now awake and racing at top speed around its wheel. He glanced from the shirt to the women who had spoken before, then back down to the shirt. 

"I'm going to try this on," he announced to his stunned brother, marching past him to the changing rooms. 

He quickly stripped off his T-shirt, the one that declared that he was a communications engineer not a magician, and pulled on the horror shirt. Surprisingly enough it was actually made of quite a soft material, something his overly sensitive, due to time spent in low gravity, skin really appreciated. 

He pulled it closed and buttoned it up, rolling his shoulders to allow it to settle into place. It was remarkably comfortable, actually long enough in the body. He stretched out his arms, pleased to see that the cuffs didn't immediately hike up to his elbows. All good so far, but only one thing would assure its purchase…

He pushed open the changing room door and stepped outside. The effect was immediate as two men, three women and a toddler that had been independently milling around near the entrance took one look at him and, as one, turned as quickly as they could in the opposite direction. 

Grinning to himself he tugged the tag off the sleeve, grabbed his T-shirt from the changing room and headed to the counter. 

"I'll wear it out," he informed the cashier, loving the way he not so subtly averted his eyes, unable to look at him. "And I'll take as many as you have in stock in this size and the next one up too." The cashier rushed to do his bidding, desperate to save what remained of his eyesight. 

"See, I told you coming shopping with me was a good idea," Gordon grinned as they made their way back to the parking lot, their arms filled with bags. 

"I will admit that it had its advantages," John answered as they strode easily through the crowd that parted like the red sea, unwilling to risk being contaminated by their fashion flu. 

John breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like he could relax for the first time since they'd gotten there three hours before. 

"That shirt is magical," Gordon declared, watching in astounded awe as eyes all around them shifted to avoid looking in his brother's direction. "It's like a people repellent in clothing form, it's….it's…" he groped around for the right words. 

"It's perfect," John declared, lovingly stroking a sleeve like one would a beloved pet. And it truly was. It was like people had a filter, an ugly shirt firewall in their heads that made them avoid it at all costs.

He couldn't remember a time that he hadn't been stared at since the year he'd turned seventeen and hit his second growth spurt. In that year he'd shot up six inches, his lanky frame had filled out a little, his weedy arms turning into tightly packed muscles and he'd developed abs and a voice that had deepened a few octaves. Then, for some reason, his anxious aura with its go away vibes had become nothing but a challenge for most people, acting as a kind of siren call for them to latch on to him and decide that he needed to be included, chatted to and made the center of attention. 

Now it was like he was practically invisible and it felt amazing. Even with the neon orange shirt Gordon was wearing, people were mostly ignoring him. 

"I'm never taking this thing off again."

       ***

"Why am I always the one doing the laundry for you lazy arses?" Selene bitched as she dragged a massive basket of assorted Tracy clobber into the lounge where the assorted Tracys owners sat around in various states of lazy. 

"Because you love us?" Gordon answered, grinning cheekily. 

"Nope, that can't be it," Selene retorted, sitting down on the steps of the seating area to begin the mammoth task that was sorting and folding. She dragged out one of Virgil's plaids and folded it into some semblance of order and dropped it on the floor to start his pile. 

"Let me help," John offered, moving to sit beside her and take some of the pile from her lap. 

"Thanks, gorgeous."

"Whipped," Scott teased, reaching for his coffee cup. "Hey, Sel, if you're the only one doing the laundry as you claim, how comes you haven't managed to wreck John's ugly shirts?"

"Why would I?" she shrugged, balling up a pair of Scott's socks. 

"Because I know you. Any excuse to shop, right?" 

The socks made a handy projectile as she threw them at his head. 

"Thanks!" Scott grinned, effortlessly plucking them from midair. "Seriously though, look at it."

Selene looked at the shirt that was currently hiding the delightful chest of her even more delightful husband. 

"I fail to see the problem with it."

"Really?" 

"Hey, leave my shirt alone, it's perfectly serviceable, thank you."

"It's old, it has to be at least seven years since you bought them," Gordon joined in. "They probably don't even make them any more."

"They don't," John said, concentrating on folding one of Alan's T-shirts into a perfect square. "So nothing had better happen to the ones I have left."

"Now's your chance," Alan whispered to Selene. "Kill them with fire and you'll never have to see them again."

"Yeah, you know that he's got much nicer clothes in his wardrobe," Scott added. 

"I've actually grown quite fond of them," Selene answered, carefully folding one she'd plucked from the depths of the pile, smoothing it out like it was something precious. 

All three Tracys, minus one Virgil who was down in the hangars no doubt creating more washing for her to do by getting covered in grease and muck, stared at her like she'd just announced that she was going back to blonde. 

"What? How? You said that he's never looked better than when he's wearing a decent shirt, I had to give you a drool cloth at your wedding."

"All true," she shrugged, folding one of Virgil's vests to the best of her ability. 

"Yet you continue to let him walk about in, what was it you called it, his rodeo clown shirt?" Gordon asked, completely bemused. "Are we missing something here?" 

"I'm a witch," she started by way of explanation. 

"Duh," Alan snorted. 

"And I have a healthy respect for glamour magic, and that right there," she continued as if she hadn't just been rudely interrupted, pointing at the shirt that John was wearing, "is the most magical thing I've ever seen in my life." 

All three of them burst out laughing, unable to believe what they were hearing. Selene waited patiently for them to finish cackling like they had just cursed Macbeth. 

"Allowing the shirts to live is doing the world, and my arrest record, a huge favour. Now, if you'll excuse us…" she got to her feet, relieved John of the socks he was busily matching and dragged him to his feet.

"OK, OK, I'll bite," Scott continued to chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What makes you think it's so magical?"

"That should be obvious, nothing short of a miracle could hide that amount of sexiness. Why do you think I'm good with him hiding in Five when he's wearing that space suit?" She dumped the half folded pile of washing back into the hamper.

"I've decided that you lot can sort your own laundry, because I've got the sudden and overwhelming urge to see that shirt on our bedroom floor. Later, fashion rejects."

John put up zero resistance. 

"I love this shirt," he grinned, waving a cheerful goodbye to his stunned brothers as his wife yanked on his hand, towing him bodily from the lounge and on to far more pleasant things than chores. 

[emetoandotherthings]

I don't believe you've done this before, so... how about Damian goes on a date with Jenna, and his order accidentally gets contaminated with gluten, so he gets super bloated and burpy, and as they're on the way home, he can't hold back his belches and he feels awful. Now Jenna is a total prude, so I wonder what her reaction would be to this? Is she gonna be caring and understanding, or a total bitch about it?

A/N: I was going to just answer this as a question, but I ended up writing a kind of drabble about it... so I hope it’s okay! Also this is the beginning of an arc for Damian and Jenna really, so look out for more soon! 

Damian should have known. He’d never ever managed to find chocolate brownie so rich and chocolately since having to switch to gluten free food. But the temptation had proved all too much when he saw the small ‘GF’ printed next to it on the dessert menu, and he’d succumbed. Now, half an hour later, he was almost positive that a mistake had been made. The uncomfortable bubbling feeling had begun in his gut as he was paying for Jenna and his meals, but he’d ignored it, assuming that he’d eaten too much. It wasn’t often that they found a restaurant that could cater for both his gluten intolerance and Jenna’s allergies, but they’d both heard separately about this new one on the other side of town so they’d purposefully made the effort to go. With the luxury to choose anything from the menu, Damian had felt like a kid in a candy shop. Jenna was still raring about it as they stood at the tram stop waiting for the tram that would take them the twenty five minute journey towards home. “I don’t think I’ve ever had Carbonara before!” She exclaimed, beaming as she gave Damian’s hand a quick squeeze. “Have you not?” He asked, he was trying to adjust his belt as it was digging painfully into his skin. “No,” she shook her head, “I wonder what they use in place of the egg… I should have asked them!” She damned loudly. “Ah well, next time!” She shrugged, and Damian felt his belly give a bubbly glug. “Yeah,” Damian forced, although his eyes watered slightly. Trying to be as surreptitious as he could, he slid his hand under his shirt, and was instantly confronted by the source of his discomfort. The skin of his belly was bloated out, stretched taut, as he gently touched across it. He was almost convinced now that the brownie had, indeed, contained gluten. “Maybe we should make it a monthly trip,” Jenna suggested enthusiastically; Damian was trying his hardest to keep a smile on his face despite feeling like if his stomach bloated any further it might explode. “I mean, we don’t go out and spend money on food like most other couples do, so this would be our treat!” “Yeah, I’m sure that could work – brrraaap!” The shift in pressure of Damian’s hand on his stomach dislodged a bubble of air, and he covered his mouth with his hand as he burped. “Oh, excuse me,” he pardoned himself a little sheepishly; it seemed as though he’d been louder than he’d thought as Jenna looked at him askanced. “I would think so,” she wrinkled her nose slightly and Damian felt his cheeks burn. “Sorry, I – brruuup!” Damian burped again, still covering his mouth. “Ah, oh dear…” “What?” Jenna asked; she’d withdrawn her hand from his as he burped again, looking a little put out. “Ah, I think – huurp! – something’s not agreeing with me,” he replied, trying to reposition his belt again, but no matter where he moved it, it kept digging in to the painfully distended flesh of his stomach. “What’d you mean?” She said as Damian folded over slightly, trying to reduce the pressure in his abdomen, which was beginning to cramp. “I think… oh, something I’ve eaten has had gluten in it,” Damian answered, muffling another belch behind his hand. “Well can you not just hold it in?” She asked, and Damian looked at her in surprise. “That’s like me asking you to hold in an allergic reaction…” Damian replied. “Not really,” she refuted, “I can’t stop my throat from swelling, you can hold in a burp.” “I’ll do my best… okay?” He said, giving his cramping belly a tender rub. “Good,” she nodded. The tram pulled up at the stop, it was very busy, and both of them ended up standing in the vestibule. Damian clutched onto the metal pole rather harder than was necessary as he fought to retain control of the roiling in his gut. The number of people around was making him feel more self-conscious, as sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He knew Jenna was watching him, so whenever he felt the bubbling urge to burp; he took a deep breath and swallowed. It might satisfy Jenna, but Damian was becoming more uncomfortable by the second – his stomach cramping like someone was running over him. His eyes were beginning to sting from the effort of holding it together; he was watching the small screen hanging down from the roof of the tram – three stops to go… two stops… only one more stop. “BaaaahhhhuuuUUURRRP!” As soon as they were out of the tram, the rumbling belch escaped from Damian, bringing a sliver of relief. “Damian!” Jenna excused, sounding disgusted; she glanced around. “Urgh… I couldn’t hold it in any longer…” He explained, rubbing a hand across his chest. No one else seemed to have noticed anything. “Maybe you’d be best just going home if you’re going to be like that,” Jenna muttered. “I really can’t – oh – help it,” Damian winced, his hand going to his abdomen; he was meant to be spending the night at Jenna’s. “Yeah, but maybe you’ll be better after a sleep,” she suggested. “I suppose so,” Damian agreed, he really wasn’t feeling up to an argument and he swallowed back another burp. “I’ll walk you home, I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault,” she replied, but she didn’t sound sincere. “You should probably let that restaurant know, so they don’t do it again.” “Yeah, I might,” he nodded; he tried to reach out and take her hand, but he found her hand irresolutely in her pocket. He walked along beside her, the cramping pain getting progressively worse. They stopped outside Jenna’s flat, and Damian felt awful for ditching on her. “Hopefully next time won’t be like this…” “Hopefully,” she said, then pecked him on the cheek, “night Damian.” “Night…” He stood as she went inside, unable to tell how he felt about leaving her because of the sheer aching pain in his belly. “BrraaahhhuuuuUUUUUURRRRRP!” The longest belch yet burst out of him as he turned to continue walking home; he just wanted to get there and lie down. By the time he was at the end of his street sweat was pouring off him like a fountain; he staggered slightly, clutching at his belly, to climb the stairs up to his flat and let himself in. “Damian?” Cain asked in surprise, in the hallway as Damian entered, “I thought you were staying at Jenna’s tonight?” “Was meant to be – rrruuuaaaarrrppp!” The burp took over and Damian covered his mouth apologetically. “Ah,” Cain nodded, understanding instantly. “Have you eaten something with wheat?” “Buuurrhhhpp! I think so…” Damian confirmed, cradling his midriff with his arm. “Jenna asked me – bruuaarp! – to hold it in cause it’s not nice…” “What?” Cain said, wide eyed and surprised, but Damian just nodded. “Jesse, could you fill your hot water bottle?” “Course,” Jesse appeared, looking worried. “Sorry…” Damian mumbled, aware that he might be interrupting their own couple time. “Come on in,” Cain instructed, beckoning him into their living room, “sit down.” Damian did so, leaning back in the sofa to allow space for his expanded belly. “Now just relax…” Damian closed his eyes, then felt Cain’s cold fingers give gentle ministrations across his stomach. “I – huuuuaaarrrp!” The belch dislodged with Cain’s rubbing, “sorry…” “You can burp all you need to here, if it’ll make you feel better,” Cain assured. “BuuuhuuuUUUUUURRRRPPPP! Oooohh…” The expulsion of air made Damian feel fractionally better. “Brrraaap!” “There you go,” Cain told him, “that’s the stuff.” “I – oh – brrruuurrrppp!” Damian couldn’t stop them now, they were rolling one after the other up his throat, and he started to relax as the cramp in his gut ebbed away. “Oh – thanks…” “I think this is a case of ‘better out than in,’” Cain chuckled slightly. “Tell Jenna that,” Damian mumbled. “I will if you want me to,” Cain offered. “No actually, don’t…” He retracted. “Thanks for this though.” “It’s no problem,” Cain said, still rubbing circles into Damian’s belly. “BaahhhuuuUUUUURRRPP! Oooh yes… thank you.”