#BEST COOKING PANS FOR GAS STOVE

[smileysuh]

night terror

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As much as you love being a mother, you think some of your favorite moments might just happen when the kids are asleep. Seeing Seungcheol with Hana and Daehyun is one of the great joys of your life, but you have needs too, and after a long day, you really need something to help you relax.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, bathroom sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, praise, fingering, blow job, deep throating, mentions of masochism, loud sex, your kid hearing you scream during sex and then your husband lies to her and says it's night terrors when really it's him - he's the night terror, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.2k

🍭 aus. rich businessman cheol, husband cheol, established relationship, father cheol, stay at home mom reader, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. i need a rich husband sugar daddy and i need him now

There had been a time in his life when Seungcheol had thought he might never settle down. As a busy businessman, he’d never been able to comprehend how it would be possible to factor a wife - let alone children - into his schedule. But then, one summer afternoon, he’d met you, and all his fears had vanished.

His previous relationships had been marred with accusations about his lack of making time, and he’d been ready to repeat the same issues with you. However, the conflicts never came. You were a strong, capable, young woman, and as the first months of you flew by blissfully, Seungcheol had realized you accepted him for him, work and all. If anything, distance made the heart grow fonder, and when you were together, you both gave each other your complete attention, nurturing the relationship in a way that he’d never had a relationship truly nurtured before. 

Six months in, he’d asked you to marry him, and it was the most confident he’d ever been with a decision in his entire life. When you’d gotten pregnant, only a short while after your honeymoon, the two of you had sat down to discuss what being parents would look like. You’d both been committed to giving your children the best lives possible going forward, and - knowing he’d be around less than a dad with a different, less demanding job - Seungcheol had asked if you’d be interested in the stay-at-home life.

It’s been five years since then, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where Seungcheol has questioned his decisions with you. He comes home at erratic times in the evening, but he always finds you excelling at motherhood. 

He truly doesn’t know how you do it and make it look easy. You have such a gentle way with not only the kids, but him as well, and he almost feels as if you were meant for this role. You’re a caregiver, through and through, and Seungcheol thinks he must be one of the luckiest men in the whole world to be able to fulfill the provider counterpart. 

It’s a Monday evening, and he’s managed to get off work early. When he arrives at your large family home, he follows the sound of giggles to the kitchen. This room has been the heart of your house ever since the kids were old enough to follow you around it like ducklings, watching you cook with eyes full of wonder - he thinks they must get that trait from him at least. 

He leans against the wall while he watches you, taking in the vision in front of him. It’s mac and cheese night, a long-held tradition in your household, wherein you help the kids make the base, and allow them to choose their favorite toppings to go in the ramekins before oven baking. 

The elder of your children, Daehyun, is more adventurous, and it looks like you’re helping him saute a pan of mushrooms on the gas stove top. Even while dealing with the hot element, and a little boy grabbing at your apron while teetering on his cooking step stool, you’re giving just as much attention to your youngest. 

Hana is the apple of Seungcheol’s eye, and - bless her heart - she’s a cheese fiend. There must be five different kinds of cheese on the counter, and you’re softly talking to her while she struggles to grate a small block of what looks to be gruyere. 

“You’re doing so well,” you tell your daughter. “Give mommy just a moment and she’ll help you grate the last of it. I don’t want you hurting your hands.”

“Okay, mama,” Hana nods, setting the cheese down before leaning over to watch you stir the pan. 

“Do you want to try a mushroom, sweetheart?” you ask, picking one out of the pan to taste for yourself. “They’re very good.”

Hana’s always been better at trying new things if you or Seungcheol go first, and the businessman finds himself smiling while he watches the soft moment.

“Okay,” Hana says, but she doesn’t sound too sure. 

“It’s a little hot, so I’m going to put it on the cutting board to cool before either of you taste it, okay?” You lift a few mushrooms from the sizzling pan, setting them down and gently blowing away the steam. “Let me know if these are good, Daehyun, or if you’d like me to cook them a little longer to make them more crispy.”

The three of you are so wrapped up in your own little world, and Seungcheol supposes the soft classical music in the background had drowned out the sound of his footfalls as he’d approached. He decides it’s a good time to make his presence known, so he moves into the room, coming to stand on the other side of the island countertop.

“Look at you three chefs,” he muses.

“Daddy!” His children scream, with Daehyun jumping from his stool to run around the table and hug Seungcheol around the waist. Hana, meanwhile, still needs help getting down from the steps, and Seungcheol watches you lift the small child to set her on the floor so she can join her brother on the other side of Seungcheol. 

“It smells good,” Seungcheol tells you, smiling at you as he rubs the backs of his children.

“We were just trying mushrooms!” Daehyun announces, releasing Seungcheol in favour of running to you to grab the food before dashing back to his dad, holding his hand out. 

Seungcheol accepts the mushroom, and he tries it, letting out an embellished groan. “These are great,” he says, which prompts both children to try them too.

“Perfect!” Daehyun agrees.

Seungcheol watches you turn off the heat under the pan, moving to finish grating the gruyere for Hana. “How was work, my love?” you ask.

“Fine,” he sighs, not wanting to think about his job in a moment like this. “I couldn’t miss mac and cheese night. How were things around here?”

“Hana, why don’t you tell daddy about preschool?” you suggest, moving a pan of preprepared pasta bake ramekins on a tray to the island counter. 

“We did art!” Hana says proudly. “Made something for you.”

“Really?” Seungcheol loves receiving drawings from his kids. “Want to go grab it for me?”

You’re two steps ahead of him, even while cooking, and you reach behind yourself to grab a piece of paper from the fridge. You hold it out to Seungcheol, and he takes it from you, smiling widely as he looks at the image.

“It’s our family,” Hana explains, although, with the dad character holding a briefcase and dressed in a suit, Seungcheol thinks it would be impossible for him to think it’s anything else.

“I love it, you’re going to be an artist one day,” he tells her, reaching down to pick her up, tucking her by his hip. “And how about you, Daehyun? How was soccer practice?”

“Mommy picked me up after school and she had veggie snacks which weren’t that good but I ate them anyways, and we did practice and I scored goals-” Seungcheol loves how his son rambles, and he listens patiently while Daehyun describes finding a coin on the field that he can add to his collection of treasures he’s picked up throughout his life.

By the time the story is finished, you’ve already put the mac and cheese in the oven, and you’re standing with your palms on the counter, watching Seungcheol interact with his children. There’s a gentle smile on your face, your eyes lit up with affection.

Seungcheol is drawn to you, and he walks around the island, Hana still tucked on his hip. “Hi,” he says softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “How was mommy’s day?”

“Good,” you respond. “Hana and I went to a greenery after preschool to get some new plants for the garden.”

“Oh yeah?” Seungcheol looks down at his daughter. “Did you two find anything nice?”

“Mommy got me a bouquet of tulips,” Hana confirms. 

“We also got a few more lavender bushes and some rosemary,” you add. “She played with bubbles while I planted them, and then we went to get Daehyun for soccer. A few of his friends came over with their moms after that to play in the pool, and then we started mac and cheese.”

“Sounds like a full day,” Seungcheol nods. He’s constantly in awe of how you juggle both kids, house maintenance, a social life, and cooking. 

“The kids are tuckered out,” you say, reaching out to brush some hair from Hana’s face. “They were thinking we could watch some Disney movies after dinner before bed.”

“Well we can’t say no to that, can we,” Seungcheol smiles. 

“No, we can’t,” you agree. “Daehyun, the mac and cheese is in the oven, should we start on a salad?”

“Do we have to?” he asks.

“Greens are an important part of a healthy diet,” you remind the little boy who’s always had problems with his veggies. “How about you help me choose what type of salad to make?”

“Can we have the one with lots of cheese?” Hana questions.

Seungcheol loves his little cheese fiend, he loves his family, and most of all, he loves that he gets to share it with you every day.

After being filled up with hot mac and cheese, the kids had fallen asleep less than thirty minutes into their movie. Seungcheol had carried them to bed, double checking to make sure they were tucked in all right, and now, he heads into your shared room, closing the soundproof doors behind him.

“I’ve said it already, but I’ll say it again, dinner was great,” he tells you, as he heads to his closet to begin removing his button-up shirt. “Even the salad was good, I haven’t seen Daehyun eat that many greens in months.” 

“He’s warming up to them,” you smile, coming up behind your husband to give him a hug from behind, your cheek pressed to his back. “We were all happy you were there to eat with us. I know work has been busy, so I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

“And miss mac and cheese night?” Seungcheol scoffs. “Not even Jeon Wonwoo himself could keep me from that.”

You laugh at the mention of his business partner. “He can join next time, if he has the time. Hana misses Uncle Woo.”

“That's because he dotes on her.”

“As if you don’t.” 

“We all do, she’s a special kid, that one.”

“They both are,” you muse. “Daehyun downplayed it, but he was doing really well in practice. Coach says he has some real talent. Apparently he can’t shut up about the way that you take him to games twice a month in box seats. I think it’s making a huge difference.”

“That’s good to hear,” Seungcheol smiles. 

“Anyways, enough about our days,” you sigh. “Do you need a shower?”

“Why? Do I smell?” Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle.

“No, I was just thinking I might have one, and maybe you’d like to join me.”

Seungcheol groans. “Well, now I definitely need a shower.”

“Perfect.” You pull away from his back, reaching down to take off your shirt as you head to the bathroom. “I’ll see you in there, daddy.” 

As much as you love being a mother, you think some of your favorite moments might just happen when the kids are asleep. Seeing Seungcheol with Hana and Daehyun is one of the great joys of your life, but you have needs too, and after a long day, you really need something to help you relax. 

You turn the shower on, and as the spa-like bathroom fills with steam, you undo your pants. You’re slipping out of the fabric when Seungcheol joins you. His large form gently presses against your back, and his lips find your shoulder. His hands smooth down your arms softly, and he presses his crotch against your bum, showing you how turned on he is.

“You look so beautiful today,” he tells you.

“And you look as sexy as ever,” you respond, smiling while leaning back against his bare chest. 

“I do, do I?” You feel him grin where he’s kissing your neck, and you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of him. “Guess this means we’re a match made in heaven.”

You love when he sweet-talks you like this, and when his hand slips down your abdomen to cup your pussy, you let out a groan of pleasure. “Should we go in the shower?”

“The shower can wait,” Seungcheol states, “and these panties have to come off.”

“You got it, daddy.” You hook your fingers in the waistband, pushing them down so his eager fingers can touch you directly. The contact has you shivering, and he begins to circle your clit. 

“How did I ever get so lucky with you?” he asks, teasing you while he grinds against your ass.

“I ask myself the same question every day,” you confess, whimpering when one of his large fingers slips into your core. 

“I think I’m the lucky one,” Seungcheol tells you, sucking on the sweet spot on your throat that always makes your entire body react. 

“Agree to disagree,” you whisper, consumed by the feeling of his fingers as he adds a second one, working you open. 

“It’s torture spending a whole day without being able to touch you,” your husband confesses, as he applies pressure to your clit with his palm.

You know exactly how he feels, and although you’re leaning into his touch, allowing him to be the one exploring your form, you know your patience will run dry soon. You need his cock, more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

It’s tantalizing, having his large bulge rubbing against your ass while he finger fucks you closer and closer to a release that’s always much too easy for him to earn. 

You turn your head to the side, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his lips to your own. 

After all these years, Seungcheol knows your body inside and out. There are no words that need to be spoken as he gets you closer and closer to your high, only whimpered moans and groans of pleasure as you remain lip-locked.

Your first orgasm overtakes you, and you gasp into the kiss, wiggling your hips for more stimulation while he helps you through it. His free hand is on your waist, and he aids in your motions, which only adds to your pleasure.

“Cheol-” you whisper.

“I know, darling, I know,” he presses his forehead to yours, finishing you off before removing his hand from between your legs. He quickly sucks your juices off his digits before working on your bra, which falls off to join your clothes on the floor.

You turn in his embrace, palms flat to his chest so you can push him back until his bum hits the edge of the sink. “I wanna suck you off,” you tell him, feeling confident and as needy as ever.

“Fuck, I love it when you use that sweet, pretty mouth of yours to say the dirtiest things,” Seungcheol groans, large hands moving down to work on his belt while you sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

“You had a long day,” you tell him, knowing every day is long for the successful businessman, “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” he smiles, pushing his pants down so his cock can be released. 

Wasting no time, you wrap your hand around the base, taking one last look up at him to muse, “Well, I want to make you feel great,” before your mouth finds his large cock. 

The sounds he makes during sex have always been a huge turn-on for you, and the groans he lets out as you suckle on the head of his cock are like angels singing. You close your eyes, leaning into the act of pleasuring the man you love most in the world. 

His gentle hand finds your head, and he helps you blow him, taking more of him into your mouth while your hand pumps the base.

“You’re so good,” he whispers. “So fucking good for me.” 

You groan at the praise, and it makes his hips twitch, cock slipping into the back of your throat.

When you’d first been together, you hadn’t been used to the sensation, but after all this time together, you’ve become accustomed to it. In fact, you even kind of enjoy it when he throat-fuckes you, in some odd masochistic kind of way.

He’s slow with it, and you know he’s watching you carefully for any signs that he should let up on you. With you focused on your breathing and relaxing your throat, he never has to actually pull away. You listen to his sounds of pleasure grow, his grip tightening in your hair. 

“Fuck,” he groans, gently pulling you off his cock. “I need you.” 

He helps you to your feet and in one motion, he lifts you up and sets you on the sink, slotting between your legs. Your hands find his strong shoulders while he guides his cock to your pussy. His lip is caught between his teeth in concentration, and your heart swells with love for your husband.

The head of his cock slips into you and you both groan. 

“You’re wound up, darling,” he muses as he sinks a few more inches into you, test thrusting so your wet juices can cover his length and make it easier for you both. “Are you sure you don’t need some more of my fingers?”

“No,” you hold his strong shoulders tighter, “I just need you.”

“Yeah?” he leans in, pressing his lips to yours while his hands find your hips, one slipping to gently cup the small of your back. “Are you still my needy princess?”

It had been the first true pet name that stuck when you’d started dating, and even after all these years, it still makes a tingle run up your spine.

“Yes, Cheol, you feel so good-”

His thrusts have his cock sinking fully inside of you now, and you can’t help the way your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your body is alight with pleasure, and you truly can't help the sounds that are escaping past your lips.

You try your best to be quiet with Cheol most nights, but your kids are asleep. On top of that,  there’s a soundproof bedroom door, a bathroom door and a shower running to muffle your noises, so you figure now is as good a time as any to let loose a little.

“God, I love it when you get loud for me,” Seungcheol groans, leaning forward to pepper your throat in kisses while you lace your fingers through his soft hair. 

Each thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, and you can feel tension building in your abdomen, a sign of another orgasm on its way.

“You look so perfect like this,” your husband muses. Suddenly, he’s pulling away from you. “I want you to see.” 

You moan in annoyance as he pulls out of you, dragging you off the countertop so he can turn you around, facing the steamed mirror. You bend over the sink, letting out a whine when he slips inside of you again, leaning forward with his chest pressed to your back while he wipes a hand along the reflective surface. 

You can see yourself now, and you look completely fucked out. 

Cheol grins behind you, and you love how the reflection showcases how much larger than you he is. With your smaller form in front of him, his shoulders are visible on either side of your own, and his height makes your pussy clench around him.

“Told you it was sexy,” Seungcheol muses, leaning forward again to press his lips to your shoulder. “I want you to watch as I make you cum.”

You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to keep your eyes open, but you nod all the same, eager to please him as he begins to fuck you again. Each thrust has your hips pressing to the marble sink top, and it hurts a little, but the pain is pleasure.

You groan, panting as you watch Seungcheol fuck you from behind through the mirror.

He truly is a vision. each slap of his hips against your ass has your breasts bouncing too-

Steam is quickly covering the mirror again, and you reach out a shaky hand to wipe it away, intent on doing your best to follow through with his command.

“Cheol,” you whimper, his thrusts getting faster, harder- 

“That’s it,” he groans. “Let me hear you.” 

Your sounds are getting louder and louder as the tension in your stomach builds- and when Seungcheol licks two fingers, slipping his hand down your front to play with your clit, the noises of pleasure become uncontrollable. 

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, breath hot against your throat.

Everything feels so intense, the steam in the room adding to your heightened senses, and you nod quickly. You can’t find it in yourself to speak, you can only grab the sink as an anchor while your husband works you to the edge-

“I’m there too,” Seungcheol assures you. “Cum with me.” 

The sound that escapes you as your pussy clamps down on his cock is almost inhuman, and you struggle to keep your eyes open, gazing at your own fucked out expression through the mirror while Seungcheol rides out your highs.

His head is thrown back, throat all gorgeous and on display- 

You love him a stupid amount, and it only makes your core throb harder around his cock while he fills you up with his cum. 

It doesn’t help that his fingers are still on your clit, and you twitch from oversensitivity, letting out another loud cry. Seungcheol’s eyes open, as if he hadn’t even realized what he was still doing, too lost in the feeling of your throbbing cunt- he’s quick to pull his hand away, resting it on your hip as his thrusts begin to slow.

“Fuck,” he groans, “that was good.” 

His lips find your shoulder, and you both do your best to slow your heavy breathing. 

“Now I really need that shower,” you joke, earning a chuckle from the man still inside of you.

“Let's do it,” he says, giving you one last kiss before he pulls out of you.

He grabs your hand, helping you to the shower-

“Shit, did you hear that?” His head turns towards the closed door.

“I didn’t hear anything,” you tell him.

“No, listen, there it is again-” Seungcheol lets go of your hand, and he quickly grabs his robe, wrapping it around his naked body. He opens the bathroom door. “Shit, we woke up one of the kids. I’ll be right back.”

He exits the bathroom, shutting you inside behind him as he tightens his robe, rushing to the large soundproof bedroom doors. When he opens them, he finds Hana standing there, her stuffed teddy in her arms.

“Is Mama okay?” she asks, looking up at him like she’s on the verge of tears.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Seungcheol is quick to sink to his knees, wrapping his daughter in a hug. “You know she gets night terrors sometimes. It was just a bad dream, but I got a shower started for her and she should be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Hana asks, wiping at her eyes.

Seungcheol releases her, taking a look at her face and helping her clear the tear tracks with his thumb. “Yes, love, mama is fine. Here, let me get you back to bed.”

He picks up his daughter, carrying her back to her room. She settles in alright, and with a quick kiss to her forehead and a goodnight, Seungcheol leaves her be. He’s in a rush to get back to you, and as he enters your room and ensuite bathroom, shrugging off his robe, he finds you in the shower.

“I swear that kid has super hearing,” he muses softly, joining you under the water spray and pulling your body tight to his own.

“Maybe our soundproof bedroom door isn’t as soundproof as we thought,” you suggest. “Did you tell her it was night terrors again?”

“That seems to be the company line, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle. He feels a little bad that the lie has gone on for two years already, but what else is he supposed to say to a kid who just heard her mother screaming?

“Hey, Night Terror,” you tug him closer, “you look lost in thought. What’s on your mind?”

Seungcheol sighs. “Just that maybe we need to invest in some good earplugs for the kids.”

You laugh, snuggling close to his chest while he wraps you in his arms. “Darling, I love the way you think.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! sometimes we all just need a short, sweet, established relationship sugar daddy/ A+ actual dad Cheol in our lives, you know?

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  “Fuck the house, I want you here. Now.” You don’t waste another second, grabbing his face and crashing your lips against his. His own hands find your hips, and within moments he’s pulling you onto his lap, growling into the kiss. It’s clear from the way that he’s touching you that he has no objections to fucking in the hot tub.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism, fucking in a hot tub, dry/wet humping, multiple reader orgasms, sensory stuff with the hot tub and heat, breast worship, fingering, cheol using her like a fleshlight, manhandling, some dirty talk, praise, breeding kink, finger sucking,. I petnames. (hers) princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring.Cheol x afab!Reader

bonus

“Uncle Woo!” Hana lights up as one of her favorite people enters the house, and Wonwoo returns her smile, dropping onto one knee to embrace her.

“Hey, Hana,” he grins.

“They told us we were sleeping over with you but I almost didn’t believe it!” Hana raves.

“I got the guest room all set up for you two,” Wonwoo says, standing up while holding your daughter to his chest. His gaze shifts to Daehyun. “Uncle Mingyu and Uncle Vernon are going to pop by for a bit too, they’ve been missing watching soccer with you. I’ve got the game from earlier recorded, you could have some boys' time while I play princesses with Hana.”

God. You love Wonwoo. He’s the best uncle you could have asked for concerning your kids. It’s clear Seungcheol thinks the same, his grip tightening around you while his smile widens. You all watch Hana joyfully rant about playing princesses, and Daehyun is even smiling at the thought of spending time with his favorite uncles.

“Do you two have any special plans for tonight?” Wonwoo asks when there’s a lull in the conversation. 

It’s your anniversary tonight, and you definitely have special plans, but none you can discuss in front of the kids.

“Mostly just taking her out for dinner,” Seungcheol says, which is only half a lie as he turns to gaze at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Nothing too extreme,” you agree, patting his chest. 

Wonwoo gives you a look that tells you he sees through your bluff, but your kids are none the wiser, and - as it is with your ‘night terrors’ - at the end of the day, a few white lies to protect their innocence doesn’t hurt anybody.

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[sulfursmells]

Morning Thunder

A loud boom scares you awake. You think you’d be used to it by now but somehow it’s different every morning.

Then

BBBBRRRPPPRRRBBBBTTTTTTTTTT

“Dang it” you hear him whin.

Huh the same thing every day you say with a sigh. You get out of bed and walk towards the kitchen. Like every other morning you see your roommate picking up the plates and pans off the floor.

“Oh good morning” he says to you his cheeks flushed red out of embarrassment. You sigh,” Good morning, Ty”

You sit across the counter as Ty continues to fumble about the kitchen. It’s the same every morning Ty is extremely clumsy and drops almost anything be hold. He often trips as well leading to many uncomfortable situations.

Ty finally finished picking up the pot and started making some breakfast at the stove.

BBBBRRRPPPTTTTTTTT

“Damn” Ty said as he waves his hand infront of his ass.

You cough the smell hitting go you like a brick wall. “Wow, what’s go into you?” you said teary eyed. “Must’ve been that food we had yesterday.”he says laughing off the situation. Yesterday we had Mexican, it can turn anyone into a gasbag but this was something else it stunk.

“Damn man we’ll have to open a window or two it smells.”

The window isnt too far from where Ty was standing. “Can you open it I have my hands full at the moment.” He asks with a smaller but still noticeable blasts.

“I’m not trying to get near ground zero!” You exclaim.

“Fine, then marinate in my gas then the choice is yours.” Ty says followed by a 20 second trumpet. With the smell of the room increasing and you not trying to get hotboxed in your own apartment you made your way to the window.

You tried your best to pull up the window but it wasn’t budging. Ty being bigger than you decided that he’d help. Ty took one step back from the stove and ended up slipping thanks to some oil that he spilled while cooking. You couldn’t react as the tower figuring next to you landed on you taking you down with him.

Ty had taken you down with him and even worse the part of his body that landed on you was his ass. Ty was now sitting on your face. He was still reeling from the fall and didn’t notice what had cushioned his fall.

PPPPRRTTTTTTTT

Not as loud as his previous bursts thanks to your face muffling the sound. When Ty realized what he was sitting on be panicked. “Oh Oh my bad dude. I’ll get off of you right now” he exclaimed. Ty begins to ascend giving you reprieve from his putrid prison but then he stops and drops back down on your face.

“On second thought your face feels too good.”

You try to get him off of you but to no avail. He was too big to move. “Oh calm down, I haven’t even had my coffee yet.” He punctuated that sentence with a sharp loud

BBRRRPPPPPTTTTTT

Sending you into hysterics as you don’t even want to know how worse coffee would make your already dire situation.

[furiousgoldfish]

Survival skills: Cooking, Cleaning, Laundry, Living space maintenance, and other extra stuff, for those who need the basics because they've never been taught by abusive parents/caretakers! (this post is cooking only, I made another post for the rest)

Cooking

I'm going to assume you know absolutely nothing about cooking, and you're just looking for basic survival meals. There are videos online but it can be overwhelming to watch them without knowing the basics!

One of the first thing people usually learn is to make eggs; this is how you do it:

You find a pan, some eggs, and turn on the stove. You only turn the part of the stove on that you're intending to use. New stoves can be turned on by a click of a button that tells you which heat circle you're about to activate, old gas stoves sometimes need a little lighter, in order for the gas to catch fire! Don't worry; the fire will only be enough to heat up your meal. Once you've successfully turned the heat on, you put a pan on this heated area, and you leave it there for a minute or so, because you want the pan to be hot before you start putting food on it. That way the food will stick less to it too. You pour in about a spoonful of oil, if the pan is heated enough, the oil will easily spill around, then crack an egg directly into that oil, carefully not to splash oil on yourself. You can crack as many eggs as you want in there, depending on how hungry you are. The easiest way to crack it is to do it against a surface, and you're trying to keep any shell from getting into the pan – if you get some shell in, you can fish it out using some utensils.

If your pan has a lid, you can close it to allow the egg to be surrounded with heat on all sides. Some people like to add in a little water to steam the top of the egg, when they close the lid! The water will evaporate (if you add it, you don't have to). You'll see it's done very quickly, when the eggwhite is all in white color, and it gets a little brown on the bottom, you can check with a fork if it's brown yet! You turn the stove off, put the eggs on a plate. You salt it at your preference, and you have a meal.

Pancakes are the second thing I ever learned, it goes like this:

You need a bowl big enough for the pancake mix, a pan that is flat at the bottom, a whisk (or a fork if you have no whisk), a knife or some long flat utensil that can flip pancakes. One or two eggs, milk (can do with water too), flour, sugar, salt. American version uses baking soda or baking powder, in my country we do without that and will sometimes add mineral water. Baking soda and baking powder just make them puff up and make the little air bubbles inside of them, so you can decide if you want flat pancakes or puffed up ones!

You crack the eggs into the bowl, add milk (you add however much you want the mixture to have, there's no hard limits), add a spoon of sugar, pinch of salt, and you mix this up with a whisk or a fork, and then add flour bit by bit, until the mixture becomes a bit thick. It's still supposed to be liquid, you're supposed to be able to pour it out easily, but the consistency is supposed to be thick enough to not be runny, if you drop some on a plate, it should not spill around. If this is confusing, you can try making it with different consistencies and see which one you like best and which one works best for you!

Once you have your pancake batter, you can turn on the stove, put your flat pan on it, and wait for it to heat up, you want it hot before you start. Put about a spoon of oil on the pan, pick it up and angle it around, so the oil covers the entire bottom of the pan – if the oil is hot, it should spill around the pan easily! Then you can grab either a big spoon, or a telugu, or you can just pour directly from the bowl, the pancake batter. If you've added baking soda or baking powder, you want small little puffed-up pancakes, so you add them in little circles and wait for them to be cooked on one side. If you want flat pancakes, you add the mixture to the middle, then grab the pan and angle it around so the batter spills over the entire pan, so it covers the entire bottom of it, like you did with the oil.

It's cooked on one side when it's no longer looking liquid on the top, usually within one minute. At that point you grab your knife, or whatever utensil you have that can flip pancakes, you push it under the pancake, see if the entire pancake is unstuck to the pan, if there's bits sticking, you unstick that first! If you can easily separate the pancake, you try to flip it. Later when you have more confidence, you can flip them just by grabbing the pan, shaking it to unstick, and then snapping it so the pancake snaps up, turns in the air and falls down – it's what I usually do, but you need to be careful to not have a lot of oil under it in that case.

If you mess up the flipping, don't worry, it's still edible even if not cooked perfectly on both sides, it also happens to everyone on the planet, I mess this up regularly, you didn't do anything wrong, pancakes are fickle and don't listen to reason or logic, you can still eat it, it's all good.

Once it's been cooking on the other side for half a minute or so (usually takes less time to cook the other side), you can slide it onto a plate, then cook the rest of your pancakes (usually the first looks the worst and the second one is better), and then you can put whatever toppings you want. We usually use jam, or cocoa, it can work with just sugar, or maple syrup, or honey, or fruit (berries), or some melted chocolate. You can eat it as-is if you don't have anything. In any case you've made something nice tasting that has some protein from the eggs, milk and flour, and you're not going to be hungry after eating them.

Vegetables

I'm going to assume you don't know anything about vegetables, and what you need to know is that there's 2 main differences between veggies: cooking time, and whether they let water out, or soak water in. You can cook any vegetable in water, salt it, and it will become edible, it's not complicated, it's healthy no matter how you do it. If you want to mix different vegetables, you need to know what their cooking time is, so you could add them at different times in your soup/stir fry/whatever you're doing.

All of the legumes (beans, peas, chickpeas, lentils, soy beans) will take water in when they're cooked, they usually are soaked about 8 hours before cooking (lentils and fresh peas don't need the soak) and then cooked for about an hour. Soaking just means you put them in a bowl, cover them so there's twice as much water in there as beans, and then just leave that for 8 hours. Afterwards you throw away that water, put them in a pot, pour new fresh water over them, put this on heat until it boils, then reduce the heat so it's not bubbling so violently, it can be a very gentle bubbling, cover it and let it cook for about an hour. Then you can take one out with a spoon, check if it's soft and nice tasting, and if it is, you're done! You can now use your cooked beans for a meal.

Fresh peas you can just cook for 10 minutes and they're done, lentils can take up to half an hour, chickpeas can be an hour and a half of cooking time, you can adjust this to how these taste to you. After you've done your basic cooking of them, you can eat them in a salad (you just add some oil, salt, vinegar, spices and whatever other veggies you have, and you got a salad), or you can additionally bake them, cook them in a pan, use them for other recipes. You can NOT eat these raw, you need to cook them until soft, if you attempt to eat raw legumes, you will get poisoned.

Vegetables like cabbage and asparagus also likes to take in some water, so be sure to never let them cook just on oil for long, they get softer and nicer with some water.

Vegetables that let water out while cooking are: Zucchini, tomatoes, peppers, beets; this means that if you put them in a pan with some oil, the mix will get soggy quickly, they will let out their own juices, which you sometimes might want! Also they will let more juice out more quickly, if you salt them, salt helps take juices out.

Vegetables that don't take water in or out, meaning they can be cooked just on oil and the mix will stay the same: onions, leek, potatoes, green beans, garlic, carrots, pumpkin. You can put any of these in a hot oiled pan, cook them, and you will get a nice stir-fry, that won't get soggy. You can also add the peppers, zuchinni, or any water-letting vegetable in, and then cook it until all the water evaporates, that works as well! This is then a sautee, meaning you're cooking the vegetables in their own juices, which is delicious.

Greens like spinach and swiss chard are usually added to stir-fry mix last because they are done cooking very fast. Okay let's look at some of the cook times (these are in water, oil cooks them all faster):

Cooking times for vegetables

Potatoes: 20 minutes if in big pieces, 10 if cut really small. Cannot be eaten raw, poisonous when raw.

Carrots: Can be eaten raw, you can cook them for any time you want, they'll get soft after 10 minutes, in soups they can be cooked for long time to let the flavor out.

Zucchini: takes only 5 minutes to get soft and start letting water out, you can cook anytime in a soup, it's not poisonous when raw either.

Peppers: will get soft after 5 minutes, can be eaten raw and are full of vitamins.

Pumpkins: 5-10 minutes to get soft, can be cooked in soups for longer.

Onion and leek: 5 minutes, gets soft very quickly, you can cook in soup for any amount of time, this is the main flavor of many meals! Onions and leeks are added to meals specifically to make them flavourful, and so is garlic.

Green beans: 20 minutes, don't eat raw.

Peas: 20 minutes if fresh, longer if they're dry and soaked.

Spinach, swiss chard, other greens: they're done in an instant almost, a minute of cooking is enough.

Broccoli, cauliflower: 5-10 minutes, depends on how small they're cut.

How to make a vegetable soup:

You'll need onions, and other vegetables of your choice, you can decide which ones mix well for you. Where I live it's traditionally onions, parsley, celery, carrots for the base, and then it can be leeks, potatoes, peas, green beans, broccoli, cauliflower, zuchinni, peppers, even just one or a few of these ingredients will make an okay soup, you can mix and match them to your liking or according to what you have. The main flavor of the soup usually comes from onions, or garlic if you want to make garlic-tasting soup.

You cut your vegetables first, and the size doesn't really matter, you cut them how you want to eat them, it won't specifically affect the quality, can make the cooking time less if you cut them really small.

You turn on the stove, put a pot on it, let it heat up for a minute or two. Then you add a spoon or two of oil, and you add your onions. You let onions cook for a few minutes while stirring them, this is your main flavor, and the longer you can stir them without them getting burned, the better the soup will taste. When they start browning, you can add other flavor enhancers, like garlic if you have some, salt and spices, and if you're doing potatoes or green beans or leeks, I would add those in sooner too, because oil enhances their flavor. Once these have some good flavor profile, you can add the rest of your cut veggies, and pour water until all of your vegetables are covered. Then you let the water come to boil, reduce the heat, and let it cook until the longest-cooking vegetable is fully cooked.

Soups made of only vegetables are not super filling, so people will usually add some pasta-like stuff in it, I will make a little mixture out of flour, water and salt, with soft consistency, and then add spoonfuls of that in the soup – this is done in the last 5 minutes of cooking, because this only needs a few minutes to cook. That will make your soup more filling!

It's also normal to add some kind of meat to your soup from the start, to enhance flavor and add more nutrients, I can't really write about this because I actually don't consume meat so I am not smart about it, but I know stuff like pieces of meat, or pieces of bone are added to soup, and then soups are cooked much longer in order for the nutrients and the flavor to combine.

If you're feeling super lazy you can just add bunch of vegetables and pasta and whatever to a pot, add water, boil, and it will still be a soup, even if you don't pay attention to how flavours combine and if cooking time is not aligned, this will still turn into something edible if you add salt and you won't be hungry or lacking in nutrients. So if my detailed description sounds intimidating, you can do it in whatever way. Just adding water and heat and salt to vegetables, makes them edible, and you can eat that and be done. It doesn't need to be perfect.

If you want to make a specialized soup, like mushroom soup, tomato soup, pea soup, it's basically the same thing with putting some onions on oil, but then you just add this one thing you want your soup from, like you'll just add tomatoes, garlic and some spices to the onions if you want tomato soup. For mushroom, you just add mushrooms and whatever spice you want, and later you can blend it with together if you want a creamy soup. For peas, you just add peas on top of onions, add water, cook that, smash or blend it to make it creamy. Those are super easy soups, and onions are a base flavor for all of them. And you can even do it without onions and it's fine, they'll still have an okay taste.

Sauces: are very similar to soups, except you add some flour on the oil, mix that to make a roux and then add water to make it thick! You choose whether you want a tomato sauce, mushroom sauce, or whatever else, and you make it a thicker consistency than a soup, and with more concentrated flavor (less water).

Mashed foods: you cook your vegetable in water, cut to any size you want, once the cooking time is over and your vegetable is super soft, you pour the water our (you can reuse it for soups later), add salt, you can add some butter or milk if you like it more creamy, and you mash it with a masher or a fork, until it's all mashed! You can do this with many vegetables, you can make mashed potatoes, pumpkins, zucchini, carrots, peas. You can even mix two veggies, I love mashed potatoes with zucchini mix.

Fried foods: I don't do this a lot, so I am not the best to explain it, but the basics of this is that hot oil cooks the food much quicker, draws out much more flavor, and makes it delicious! It also adds a decent amount of calories so it's great for when you need a lot of energy quickly. I know people like to smash pieces of meat, cut it or grind it into small pieces, then mix it with cut up onion, garlic, spices and herbs, add some flour, and then form it into nice little patties, which they can fry on oil, and it makes for a good sandwich pattie. You can also make this type of pattie out of vegetables, if you mix some cooked beans, soy, lentils, potatoes, cabbage savoy, kale, really anything with some flour, garlic, spices and salt, and form it into a pattie, you can put it on hot oil and make a little burger pattie, or mix it with some mashed potatoes to create a meal.

I'm unable to make detailed instructions for meat as I don't consume it, but I know it's important to cook it thoroughly, and make sure it's never raw in the middle, because it could give you diseases otherwise. I won't go into making bread because this post is already too long, but if you want me to write it out in detail, let me know!

If you want to make more specialized meals, you can find instructions and recipes anywhere, knowing the basics will make it easier to understand any recipe out there. I myself am not good at baking so I won't go into that!

I'm going to write a separate post on cleaning, maintaining space and laundry, because this is already very long and might be overwhelming to read. If anyone wants to write details about non-vegetarian dishes, please do add it in the comments!

[goldfades]

really don't mind the practice / cause your my little lady / lady, lady, love me, cause I love to lay here lazy / ce could close the curtains, pretend like there's no world outside ─── devin booker¹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.3k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and devin spend valentine's day in this year, and it's filled with sweet moments.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fluffy!

The scent of something sweet and buttery filled the air, seeping in through the cracked bedroom door. It was lazy and warm, curling around the sheets, luring you out of sleep before you were fully ready to open your eyes. The bed still carried the weight of last night—soft, rumpled blankets, Devin’s lingering warmth, the faintest scent of his cologne mixing with the fresh morning air.

Valentine’s Day.

Not that it needed much acknowledgment. Not between you two. There was no rush to make dinner reservations at an overpriced restaurant or scramble for grand gestures. That had never been your thing.

You stretched, slow and content, fingers skimming across the empty space beside you. It wasn’t unusual for Devin to be up before you, but it was unusual for him to be making noise this early. Kitchen noise. You could hear the faint clink of a spatula against a pan, the low murmur of music humming from the speaker—Jack Johnson, of all things.

Your lips curled at the edges.

Devin wasn’t the biggest cook. He had a handful of things he could make, and he rarely strayed from them. If he was in the kitchen, it meant one of two things: he was either really feeling himself or he was up to something. Maybe both.

Yawning, you finally peeled yourself out from under the covers, padding down the hall in your sleep shorts and one of his old shirts, socked feet barely making a sound against the floor. You leaned against the doorway, watching him for a second.

Devin stood at the stove, bare-chested except for the chain glinting at his collarbone, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His back was to you, broad shoulders relaxed, hand lazily flipping something in the pan. You caught sight of a bag of chocolate chips on the counter, a bunch of bananas beside it, and a mixing bowl still half-full of batter.

Your arms crossed over your chest as you smirked. “So, what’s all this?”

Devin didn’t startle, didn’t even turn around, just let out a low chuckle. “Damn. I was hoping to have it ready before you got up.”

“You, making breakfast? On Valentine’s Day? What’s the occasion?” You stepped forward, peering over his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He finally turned, catching your gaze with that slow, lazy grin that always had a way of getting to you. “Figured we could just… stay in. Take it easy. No plans, no pressure. Just you, me, and some fire banana pancakes.”

You arched a brow. “You sure they’re fire?”

He scoffed. “I had a little taste test. They’re at least four-star quality.”

“Oh, four stars? So, they’re just alright?”

His lips quirked. “I’d say Michelin-worthy, but I didn’t want to gas myself up too much.”

You laughed, shaking your head. It was simple, it was easy—it was exactly the way the two of you worked.

And it was already shaping up to be the best Valentine’s Day yet.

You stepped closer, leaning over the counter to steal a glimpse at the golden pancakes he was flipping with expert ease, his focus a little more intense than you expected. He was always calm, always present, but this morning, there was something different about the way he moved. The rhythm of his actions—steady and methodical—made you pause for a second and admire him in that quiet way you hadn’t done in a while.

The smell was intoxicating—bananas caramelizing ever so slightly, the vanilla from the batter, and a subtle hint of cinnamon. Your stomach growled, and Devin’s eyes flicked up to catch the sound. He raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Did you forget to eat last night?" he teased, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the bag of chocolate chips he had set out. “Can I help with anything, or are you planning to be all smug about your cooking skills?”

“Oh, I’m definitely planning to be smug,” he said, his voice almost a low hum. “But you can help by grabbing the syrup.”

You reached over to the fridge and pulled out the maple syrup, your hand brushing against the cool bottle as you returned to his side. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you, like he was watching every move you made with that sort of quiet intensity that only made you more aware of your own breath.

“I swear, every time I turn around, you look like you’ve stepped out of a magazine,” he muttered, shaking his head. “How do you do that?”

You smirked, pouring syrup into a small bowl. “I think it’s called ‘not trying.’ You should try it sometime.”

He chuckled but didn’t say anything else. His fingers brushed yours as he passed you a plate, the touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It wasn’t an accident. Devin had a way of making every simple movement feel purposeful. He always made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

“So, what’s the verdict on the pancakes?” you asked as you slid into the seat at the island, waiting for him to place the plate in front of you. “Are they really as good as you claim?”

His smile widened, full of that quiet pride that had always drawn you to him. There was something about him—his easy confidence, the way he carried himself—that was magnetic. And in moments like this, when it was just the two of you, no one else around, it felt like time slowed down.

“Taste and see, baby,” he said, setting the plate in front of you with a flourish. “Then you can rate them.”

You picked up a fork, cutting into the fluffy stack of pancakes, the syrup pooling around the edges. As the bite hit your tongue, you couldn’t help but grin. He was right. They were definitely more than just “alright.” They were light and airy, just the right amount of sweetness, with pockets of chocolate chips melting into the batter in all the right places. You felt the rush of warmth spread through you—not just from the food but from the simple joy of it all.

“Okay, fine,” you said after swallowing, lifting your hands in mock surrender. “You’re officially a breakfast chef.”

Devin chuckled, taking a seat beside you, and dug into his own stack. The sound of the silverware clinking against the plates, the hum of the soft music playing in the background, and the faint sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window created this cozy, almost nostalgic atmosphere. It wasn’t extravagant—it didn’t need to be. But everything about it felt just right.

“You know, this is kinda perfect,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “No crowds, no fuss. Just us.”

He leaned back too, his elbow brushing against yours as he swiped another bite of pancake from his plate. “I told you. Valentine’s Day doesn’t need to be some big, expensive thing. All we need is right here.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a second, everything else faded out. His eyes, dark and soft, locked onto yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze as it melted into something more than just appreciation. It was affection, it was comfort, it was a shared moment. The kind of moment that didn’t need words, but felt like everything.

“I think this might be my new favorite tradition,” you said, smiling softly.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, that playful glint back in his eyes. “What’s next? Breakfast in bed every Valentine’s?”

You chuckled, lifting your syrup-drenched pancakes. “You never know. But for now, I’m just gonna enjoy this.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a comfortable silence, the two of you slipping into an easy rhythm. As you cleaned up, Devin grabbed his phone from the counter, pulling up a playlist you both liked, letting the soothing sounds of more Jack Johnson play in the background.

He wandered back into the living room, where the sunlight was just starting to pour in through the windows, casting golden hues across the couch and the coffee table. You followed him, dropping onto the couch with your head on his lap, watching as he scrolled through his phone, probably looking for the next perfect song to set the mood.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your eyes closing as you listened to the soft strumming of the guitar.

“Mm-hmm,” Devin hummed, his fingers running through your hair gently. “It’s all I need, too.”

The next few hours passed like that: easy, undemanding, filled with quiet moments and small smiles. No need for anything grand when the little things meant everything. You didn’t need roses, you didn’t need diamonds—just mornings like this. And with Devin, you knew you’d always have them.

The day continued in its gentle rhythm, unfolding like a well-loved book, its pages turning slowly, each moment a quiet reminder of how simple things could mean so much. By mid-afternoon, the two of you had settled into the kind of comfort that only time together could foster. You sat curled up in the living room, Devin’s arm around your shoulders as you both scrolled through old photos on his phone, laughing at moments you’d forgotten, reminiscing about vacations, late-night talks, the small victories.

It was soft. It was quiet.

And then, as the sun dipped a little lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, there was a soft knock at the door. It wasn’t unusual for deliveries to show up, but you couldn’t help the way your heart gave a little skip when Devin stood up to answer it.

He opened the door, his voice low and warm as he greeted the delivery driver. You could hear him talking for a moment before the door shut again, and Devin turned back around, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly, his hands sliding behind your head to gently guide you upright.

You blinked at him, slightly confused but willing. “What’s this?”

“Just trust me.” He smirked, one of those smiles that was all mystery and sweetness, and you couldn’t say no.

With a slight chuckle, you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence as he moved around you. You heard a soft rustling, followed by the faintest thud as something was set down in front of you. His fingers brushed your cheek, and you felt the cool air shift as he stepped back, the space between you opening up just enough to feel that subtle tension that always hung in the air when he was being secretive.

“Okay. Open.”

You opened your eyes, and for a second, everything else disappeared.

A stunning bouquet of flowers sat in front of you. But it wasn’t just any bouquet. The flowers were a mix of your favorites: peonies, soft pink roses, delicate lilies, and a few pops of bright purple irises scattered throughout. The colors were soft, romantic, and perfect in their disarray. It was as though someone had handpicked each one just for you, like it was meant to be.

You gasped softly, your fingers instinctively reaching out to touch them, feeling the smooth petals, inhaling their sweet fragrance. But what took your breath away more than the flowers themselves was the small envelope attached to the bouquet. It was simple, folded neatly, and held shut with a wax seal.

Devin stepped closer, his eyes soft, watching you as you slowly reached for the note.

“I figured I’d go a little traditional on you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now, like he was giving you a space to take it all in. “But I think you deserve more than just a bouquet.”

With the note in your hands, you carefully unfolded it. The words were neat, careful, a little hesitant, but unmistakably real.

To my love,

Every day with you is a gift I never take for granted. You make everything easier, better, brighter, just by being you. I know I’m not the best at showing it sometimes, but I want you to know I appreciate every little thing you do for me, every moment you share with me. I’m lucky, and I’ll never forget that. So, today—just like every day—I’m thankful for you.

With all my heart,

D

A lump formed in your throat as you read the last line, the words carrying the weight of everything he’d never said in front of a camera or in front of anyone else. Just for you.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, trying to hold back the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“That was… perfect,” you whispered, and he stepped forward, taking the note from your hand with a smile that was full of softness.

“Yeah? You’re welcome,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. The warmth of his palm engulfed yours, grounding you in that simple, quiet space between the two of you.

The rest of the evening unfolded just as it began—quiet, calm, but filled with an overwhelming sense of warmth. You spent the rest of the night tucked into his side, watching a movie you both already knew by heart, with his hand softly tracing lazy patterns along your arm, a gesture that said more than any grand words ever could.

When it was time for bed, you didn’t rush it. You didn’t rush anything. You stayed tangled up in each other’s warmth, content to just exist in the soft bubble of your shared space.

The note, the flowers��they were beautiful, but it was the way he made you feel, in the soft quiet moments, that really made the day unforgettable. Because, in the end, it wasn’t about the big gestures or the grand displays. It was the small, simple things that made you feel loved.

And, with Devin, those moments felt infinite.

[yomju]

Mindgames

"You're going on a date?"

Caleb asks, steadfast in his cookie dough mixing. 

Earlier this morning, you announced you really missed these brown butter chocolate chip cookies during a desert road trip last year.

After a few scrolls, Caleb had jotted down the ingredients for his immediate grocery trip.

"Easy enough, I've been meaning to use up our butter." He notes the ingredients academically. 

She had broke her focus from studying to look up at him.

"I'll be back in a few pipsqueak. Don't burn the apartment down."

"Wait Caleb --- Hey! As if, I have a better sense of smell than you. Remember when you left the gas on?"

She had slipped a bookmark into her textbook before chasing Caleb down their hallway. It was tradition for them to send each other off.

"Nooope, I don't. You must be misremembering, huh? Maybe I should take you to the doctor."

She punched him in the shoulder in the middle of him putting his jacket on.

"Ha ha, very funny Caleb."

He chuckled and lightly pushed her shoulder. She lingers after his warmth leaves her.

He does so much for her.

"I'll start brunch." She blurted. 

He looked at her and his gaze remained, mind drifting, before he flickered back to present.

"Who are you and what have you done to Mc?"

He poked her in the cheek.

Either something is on your mind or you're apologizing. Should I expect to see my borrowed clothes back in my closet?"

Her cheeks glowed, half with embarrassment, half with annoyance, but she didn't care. Mc was on her tip toes in an instant, closing the distance and causing Caleb's finger to gently curl.

"Maybe, and no. Your shirt's mine."

Caleb's tone became serious. "What's on your mind then?" 

Caleb had slide his index and thumb down her jam, pinching her chin.

She didn't want to hold him up too much, but the concern in his eyes was so gentle.

In a moment of bravery, she does the one thing she thinks is best.

He slightly turned her face from one side to the next, his gaze flitting from one eye to the other.

Their gaze remained steady and comforting, yet suspiciously long. She softened her gaze.

"You, you dummy. You always do so much for me. I want to make your days easier too, okay?"

Before Caleb could react, MC shooed him away.

"Now, off you go."

Two succinct pats and a final push to his back.

"Don't forget my favorite brand of caramel!"

Her face was hidden as she hurried down the hall and back into the kitchen, taking all measures necessary to hide the heat in her face and from seeing Caleb's reaction.

She didn't hear an immediate reply, only a shift in his jacket material and a couple coughs.

"Alright alright," he concedes. "Yes chef. I'll follow your lead today."

"See you!" She yells.

Her phone lit up with an emoji.

":P" 

Sent 11:27am.

Forty-five minutes later, steaks are on the stove.

Her phone instructed her to sear on high heat for a minute each side.

What she didn't expect was immediate smoke to expel from the hot pan and stain her lungs. Luckily she's keen enough to take the pan off and lower the heat a bit. She blasts the fan and keeps a wary eye on her smoke detector. Their kitchen smells the same when Caleb cooks, fragrant and savory.

What she didn't expect was such a difference in labor, evident in the sweat that trickles down the side of her brow. 

Caleb had come back in the midst of her flipping their steak, putting and old rock album on and began prepping their dessert. 

"What gave you that idea?" She finally responds, only to counter his question with another. 

He responds carefully. "Just routine observation and extensive pattern recognition."

His response is so nerdy that laughs in delight. When her chuckle quiets, she notices Caleb hasn't said any more. 

He seems to be taking it seriously.

"You got dressed up and all. Mega departure from your shorts and band tee." More specifically, his tee. "Your makeup's different."

"You look good." She tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and thanks him. 

She could tell him the honest truth. That because Caleb announced he was returning from the Fleet for a long weekend last minute, she expedite her desire to wear the outfit she planned last night, just to get his attention. Funny how he jumped to conclusions, she thought.

She could tell him the complex truth. That her need to shed old skin birthed a new style. Old skin that withered over a year long period while she mourned him. (It's still a sensitive topic, despite her developing clarity on his reasons. Additionally, she could tell him that some twisted part inside of her wanted him to see her differently now than when they were small.

Or she could hold out on the stupidly simple truth.

A shake of her head, but she opts to play along. Just a bit.

"You could say that, yeah." She mocks a glance at her invisible watch while taking the steak out.

"We're going on this sunset cruise around the city. It's gorgeous out, and they wanted to tale advantage of the good weather." She cracks open four eggs and begins toasting.

"We weren't able to cancel, but I wanted to spent the morning with you."

Caleb acknowledges her with a noise, silently palming sweet dough together.

She can hear the whirring in his mind as she stirs their eggs.

The toast is ready. Through her apartment window, the muffled melody of a songbird can be hear.

It's not until Mc dresses their plates, eggs and steak and a dash of chives does their conversation resume.

Caleb turns around arms crossed, posture controlled yet stern.

"Who is this guy?"

His leaning slides the cookie tray across the counter.

She says innocently, "Oh, you know them. I don't think it'd surprise you."

Caleb walks over slow.

His height becomes intimidatingly large as the space between them vanishes.

His voice is soft yet crisp, loud given their proximity.

"Is it Gideon?"

Mc almost laughs but holds it in. Instead she looks up at him and relishes his boyish features up close. A deep part of her core thrives off the heat emanating from him. His biceps are tensed. His classic box-cut tank is her favorite. For a while, she lets his confused look simmer, enjoying his sunset lavender hue bathe her.

When she cracks a smile, Caleb's eyes widen slightly.

"You keeping secrets from me now, pipsqueak?"

She pokes his cheek.

"Nope, but you've been assuming all day. I couldn't help myself."

His eyebrows shoot up.

Caleb immediately coughs and softens his shoulders. He looks away, grasping for some believable cover-up. She misses his gaze, so she steps on his toes playfully. A soft, fake 'ow' comes out of Caleb's mouth, but he doesn't move.

"You've met Tara, right? She's my-"

"Coworker. At the Association." Caleb finishes, pettily blowing air into her face. She laughs and swats his face away.

"Yup. It's just a girl's trip. We wanted to feel cute. I'll send you some photos and maybe we can go together next time."

Caleb restrains himself from saying that she doesn't have to dress up to look like that.

"I-" He stops to look for the right words.

Mc handles a plate and offers it to him and a set of utensils. After, she grabs her own plate and makes her way to the kitchen island. She's dying to know what he'll say.

Caleb follows her like a dog. He sits next to her before speaking up.

"I wanted to make sure the guy was good for you. If it was a date."

There's orange juice. He pours two fillings, slices a fresh orange and decorates her glass how she likes. He sets her cup down and rests chin to fist.

His choice to settle for protective older brother is loud and obvious. It must be the only tool left in his arsenal. A small part of Mc's chest twists. However, she fails to find a plausibly deniable reason to complain. Much less without calling a director's cut their dance.

"...Of course Caleb, you're always looking out for me."

She avoids his gaze and sips some juice. Caleb must want her attention, so he slices a tender piece of steak and raises it her mouth.

"Say Ah," he asks and holds his pose, "Chef's gotta try their own handiwork first."

She moves her head away but turns to him with a pout. Caleb smiles.

"Nuh-uh, I already did while cooking. You gotta tell me if it's okay or not. I worked hard!"

He laughs and concedes immediately, "You're right." A couple chews and he comments, "Delicious. Thank you." 

She sighs with relief, finally able to relax. 

They eat in silence for a bit, music still humming in the background. Caleb stops halfway through his meal before turning to her again.

"Were you serious about going together?" He brings up the topic.

"Of course, Caleb." She chews on the thought for a bit, "I know that's not what we typically do. And it's kinda tacky to do what tourists would do." 

"No," he shakes his head, "I think it's refreshing. Gives you a reason to take the summer in. I've seen Linkon from the skies, I'm curious what it looks like sitting on the river."

"Exaaactly," she whirls her fork around and trails off, a mix of injected and genuine joy into her voice. A sunset cruise with Caleb. Beautiful. But as they are now, as two people who grew up together. Protected each other. Cared for each other's wellbeing. A whirpool of confusion tosses inside her stomach. She sets her utensils down. 

"Next week? I'll come back for the weekend."

She musters up the strength to smile at him. In a spontaneous moment of bravery, she leans her head on his shoulder. He easily adjust for her neck. 

"I'm so full," she lies, "But yeah, next week. Promise?"

Caleb presses a soft kiss on her hair, a gesture that Mc found only comforting as a child. Now however, she wishes she could return his gesture.

"Promise." 

Neither of them say anything to burst the illusion. For now, she does the only thing she can - to tuck and savor every second like this reverently, privately in the non-existent hours of night.

[Also on Ao3]

[mari-positas]

Is there anything that Ellie might have seen that made her suspicious of Peach and Joel hooking up? Maybe Joel returning home SUPER early one morning with a giant smile on his face?

Hi my love, thank you for sending this in! I got the best idea while wolfing down my dinner. I did tweak it just a tad 🤍

Warnings/Tags: Ellie being a lil shit, hickeys, and Joel doesn’t get to have his morning coffee.

Word Count: 445

Joel walked into the kitchen. “Mornin’ kiddo.”

“It’s about fucking time,” Ellie rolled her eyes. She stood in front of the gas powered stove doing her best to keep her eggs from sticking to the frying pan with a spatula. “I thought I was going to have to go find a fucking prince to kiss your ass awake, dude. Don’t you have to head out for patrol in like five minutes?”

“More like ten. I still got a little time.” He stifled a yawn and walked over to get his pot of coffee going. “You cookin’? Since when the hell do you cook?”

She scoffed. “Since you’ve been sleeping in late every morning for the past two and a half weeks,” she remarked, shaking her head. “If I wait around for you to wake up and make me breakfast, I’ll fucking starve.”

“Quit bein’ so dramatic.” Joel glanced into the frying pan. “There’s a shit ton of shell in there, kiddo.”

“What can I say, I like a little extra crunch,” Ellie deadpanned. She turned to him, watching as he opened the cabinets to grab a mug. Just like every morning for the past two and a half weeks, he was smiling from ear to ear. “What the hell are you so damn happy about, Joel?”

“Can’t I just be in a good mood?”

“No, because then that would mean hell’s frozen over.” As he turned around to lean against the kitchen counter, her eyes widened in shock. “Whoa! What the fuck is that thing on your neck?”

“Huh?” Joel’s smile faded as he reached up and touched the spot she was staring at. “What the hell are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Whirling around, he picked up the stainless steel toaster on the counter and glanced at his reflection. His eyebrows shot up in surprise to see a bruise the size of a silver dollar on his neck, right above his collarbone. 

Shit. 

You’d left him with a love bite.

Ellie’s mouth fell open. “Is that a—?”

He was quick to shut her down. “No.”

“It sure as hell looks like one, Joel.”

Joel set the toaster down, shaking his head. “Well it ain’t,” he said. “Somethin’ must have bit me.” He winced, realized he’d open the door nice and wide for the little shithead.

“Something or someone?” Ellie smirked. 

“Ellie,” he warned her.

“Could it be the same someone who’s had you walking around every morning with a big stupid fucking on smile on your face?” she continued to tease him.

“That’s it, I’m fuckin’ outta here.” Joel spun around on the heel of his boot and stalked out of the kitchen—without his morning coffee.

[docholligay]

For HLF : Any advice for cooking on a crummy electric stove top? My apartment has one, and it takes 5000 years to get hot enough, I swear it takes 20 minutes to boil water. I mostly just want to not have to spend forever cooking shit.

You know, we as a global community have figured out the best way to do things cooking-wise, broadly, and I gotta tell you it blows my mind that electric coil cooktops are still being fucking MADE. They suck so much. They take forever to heat up or cool down, there's no responsiveness whatsoever, and they stay hot even when they do not LOOK hot, making it easy for someone to get hurt or melt a bowl.

The only thing worse than an all electric range is that of the "I hate you actively and hope everything you make turns to shit" combo of a coil cooktop and a gas oven. What sort of bullshit is that about?

Anyhow, when we bought our house it had an electric coil cooktop and i told my lovely bride that if we bought the house we were either paying to run gas, or paying for induction, and we have an induction cooktop right now that I mostly love. (my issues with it are not related to it being induction, and also, I have never met a perfect cooktop. I'm me)

So this is easy, actually! Buy one of these:

This is a portable induction burner. This is an Avantco, sold through webstaurant, for 130 bucks with free shipping.

This is better than anything you can get on Amazon. This is a fucking workhorse. if you are only going to have one burner that responds and kicks ass, let it be this one. I recall that you rent, so don't offer to buy a nicer range for your fucking landlord. You can take this with you when you go! Frankly I would love to have one of these, and I have a full range, I can just always use a spot for another pot. Actually it looks like the double is available for only ten bucks more.

They say this is for light duty, but remember this is a restaurant supply store that just happens to be open to the public--they mean light RESTAURANT LEVEL duty. Your daily cooking will be fine. It only takes a pan up to about 10 inches, and I would only use a nine inch if you want true edge to edge, but I don't recall you being a stockpot cook, so it's likely not an issue for you.

This is the solution to your problem. Even I, magic and very talented and also wise as I am, cannot make an electric coil cooktop suck less.

[glacierclear]

Can I... can I ask for some househusband Leon hcs?

alright. okay. we're gonna work with a few assumptions for these headcanons.

this all comes from the hypothetical of leon being fully retired from his line of work. he still has the same backstory, skillset, traumas, everything, it's just...now he's your loyal house husband!

cooking? this all depends on where he's at in life. mid-30s and onward? he's a chef. i don't believe he'd be terribly gourmet about it. you aren't coming home to a roasted duck served with a reduced wine glaze and a perfectly made risotto...but god. he can make some damn fine spaghetti. he'd likely shoot for simple dishes, with perhaps an added flair or two. homemade burgers. lots of steak dinners. he'd prefer anything that can be prepared with minimal mess. recipes that are made with one pot or one pan...a big hit for him. he is not a pretentious eater, and that would reflect in his cooking.

now, if we're talking early to late-20s leon? erm. well. let's just say he's learning. his transition from zombie apocalypse policeman to military meat shield didn't do much for his cooking skills. and a diet of MREs and scrounged up viper parts did even less. if post-re4 leon is your house husband you're gonna be eating a lot of questionable meals. he's not completely oblivious. he won't try and feed you absolute slop, but his abilities don't much exceed kraft mac and scrambled eggs. still! he's a domestic man now. plenty of free time to try out all sorts of new things in the kitchen! be on standby with a fire extinguisher when he decides 3am is a great time to make fried chicken from scratch!

leon's independent food preferences likely revolve around utility. protein. nutrition. careful rations. compact energy a growing boy needs to kill bioweapons. he doesn't strike me as having a particularly strong sweet tooth, but he also won't say no to a bit of dessert! but he's adaptable, of course. one must be in his line of work. your tastes and favored dishes will influence his palate a lot. he'll naturally associate flavors with you and will, over time, come to adopt a lot of your dietary choices.

cleaning? leon will do his best. you can count on him to not accidentally mix mustard gas in your bathroom, but his knack for cleanliness would be...odd. i choose to believe leon has a strict standard for bodily hygiene. his extended exposure to all manner of glop and viscera means he strives to smell nice and stay on top of dirt the best he can when he is able to...on his body. a house is different. he's never had to see it as a home, merely an empty room where he sleeps and eats. so maintaining it as a tidy space might not come naturally, and it's not as if he had a proper upbringing to teach him proper housekeeping techniques (cough, cough, he's an orphan).

man's a fast learner though. expect a lot of trial and error. him accidentally using glass cleaner on the stove. or not understanding the exact purpose of fabric softener. why do we need make our bed if we're just gonna sleep in it and mess it up again? he likely has a lot of bad habits from living on his own, but gentle guidance and persistent advice will go a long way.

of course, leon needs his private time. space for him to isolate and be alone...but, you're at work all day. the loneliness is easily accessible, and now that he has all the time and freedom to be with you...it's grating. his favorite sound is the noise your key makes when it unlocks the front door. he's careful, not incredibly overbearing, but you don't make it more than a few steps into your home before his head is poking around the corner. "how was your day? you look tired. here, let me take your coat off-" leon is a listener. he doesn't talk about himself much, if at all, so he'd prefer to just hear you ramble on about whatever you need to or want to. neck rubs. gentle squeezes on your arm. light kisses on your brow. he doesn't smother. he doesn't drown you in the touch he's so starved of. but you can tell, he misses you a lot.

the real issues will probably stem from the quiet. the absolute lack of danger. take a person out of their traumatic environment and things start crumbling real fast before they can start to heal. he's hyper-aware. paranoid. has all this pent up energy and an instinct to fight. and he has to redirect it all somewhere, right? it'd come out in bizarre ways. diy projects. you come home from work and he built you a fucking chair. you don't even need a chair, but now you have one. lots of yard work. he renovated your patio and set up a birdhouse (also handmade). you didn't really want him to rearrange your living room but he did it anyways.

and it's hard for him to relax. for him to feel truly safe. he'd insist on installing locks on all the doors. bulletproof windows. guns hidden and stashed in corners of the house, just in case. any tech that could impede on his privacy (ie, amazon echos, doorbell cameras, etc) are out of the question. he'd run you through drills and hypothetical scenarios. make sure you know what to do in any situation. he's vigilant, and honestly, you've never felt safer, but it wears him down and you aren't sure if it's truly good for him.

[possessionisamyth]

exactly one person asked for a men's list when it came to my cooking headcanons list for the ladies so here ya go!

Chris Redfield- Actually a decent home cook because he was old enough to want to give Claire some of their mom's cooking when he could. Unfortunately, any time he tries a new recipe for the first time he burns it. The second or third time things come out fine, but the first time he does something new he's opening windows to let out the pan smoke or returning to coals in the oven.

Barry Burton- His wife does all the cooking as he's hopeless in the kitchen, but since they got married she's never had to wash a single dish. He always made sure there's a working dishwasher in their house for when he's away too long to do his usual chore.

Albert Wesker- Can make the fanciest looking food in the world. We're talking Michelin star $100 a plate in appearance only. His dishes have zero flavor. They taste. No one understands how this happens.

Leon Kennedy- Breakfast King. I know the line in damnation is too overused, but breakfast is actually the easiest way to start learning how to cook. Box mix pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs, all require him to put something in a pan on low to medium heat with some oil and poke it around until it's done. There's little effort exerted in monitoring since that's half his real job anyway. Of course it translates to cooking. He's perfected the timing. Everything else is take-out though.

Carlos Oliveira- He had no idea how to cook until he got out of Raccoon City and went home to his family. He tried learning from his mama, but she'd always take the knife or pan from him, so he learned from a sibling and is pretty good at it. He makes a lot of marinades, so the blender is his friend.

Luis Serra Navarro- Absolutely under no circumstances does this man belong in a kitchen. He will concoct the most wretched smelling health food that's full of vitamins, minerals, and "a healthy dash of vinegar for flavor". He's wonderful to have at the dinner table, but never at the stove. Makes a real tasty cup of coffee though.

Jack Krauser- For some ungodly reason, this man can take someone's most hated foods and make them taste good. No idea what the hell he does to it as he will kick everyone out of the kitchen until he's done, but he's just like that. Barely cooks not because he hates it, but because he has to be in the mood.

Piers Nivans- He's the king of the grill. Will lecture anyone in earshot about the important difference between gas, charcoal, or wood when it comes to maintaining the flavor of the meat. He also believes salt and pepper are all you need for a great burger which must be cooked to medium at the hottest lest it lose it's tenderness.

Jake Muller- Salads, smoothies, and overnight oats, he's the one making meals that are able to be eaten fast or on the go. Fruit counts as a dessert to him. He does enjoy experimenting by eating the "weird" or most unfriendly tourist foods while he travels so he has something to brag about, even though he could never figure out how to cook any of it himself.

Ethan Winters- He tries his best. He'll help Mia in the kitchen with food prep or clean up. He makes good dips for chips, has a delicious cookie recipe, and researched how to make baby food for when Rosemary stopped being breastfed. This somehow translated into him figuring out how to make very good custards and parfaits. Although, he got super frustrated trying to figure out how to make bread and has given up the fight.

i will happily do this again for any characters not on either of my lists since i love cooking and baking, and this is fun to think about

[cherryblossomshadow]

You Don't Want a Gas Stovetop

vlogbrothers, Hank Green

.

.

Transcript (emphasis mine):

Good morning, John. I've had a half a cup of coffee, and I'm going to do something I almost never do I'm going to make an unscripted video about a thing that I care very passionately about

You watching this video need to not want a gas stove

Why? Because they suck!

Here's the thing that you are right about. The curlicue heating element stoves, they are the worst. They're hard to clean, they're extremely hard to control, like you cannot turn them on and off quickly. They take forever to heat up, they take forever to cool down

Now what happened is the stove top and natural gas industry made it so that what takes the place of that in your brain is a natural gas stove that has like the little blue flames – they're so beautiful – that like Gordon Ramsay used. But what you're doing when you have a natural gas stove is burning stuff in your home! Which results in, get this, decreased indoor air quality. How you can get around this by like having your fume hood like going full blast and certainly never have a natural gas stove that doesn't have a hood. Or get this?! You can have an induction stovetop that has more power and is easier to control than natural gas!

Chances are, there are three pipes connected to your house. There's the one that brings you water, that one's important. The one that takes the water away, we also want that. And the one that brings you methane. What century is this?!

It would be like having the gas station bring the gasoline directly to your car. Like this is a bad idea!

Now I know what you're thinking, “Hank. There is no way that cooking my hellofresh is significantly adding to climate change.” And you're right

But here's the thing, household natural gas use is a big contributor to climate change, it's just not mostly the stove top. However when natural gas companies ask people how they feel about switching their furnace from gas to electric or their water heater from gas to electric, they're like, “I don't care, whichever is better, I don't know.” Because you currently have a really efficient way to get power into your home that isn't a pipe full of methane! It's a power line! And there are great electric water heaters, and there are great electric furnaces and heat pumps, but people say, “I want my natural gas stove.” But that's a tiny percentage of the methane that is actually being sold by the gas company. Almost all of it is used in furnaces and water heaters. But as long as people are like, “I want to keep my gas stove, it's harder to clean, it makes the air inside my house dirty, but House Hunters says that it's a top tier product,” people will keep having the natural gas companies build and replace this extremely expensive infrastructure to pipe gas into our homes!

And gas companies are freaking out about this. They're doing all these campaigns about how great gas ranges are, even though they are objectively worse. Because if they can keep that toehold, they can make it make sense to keep giving you gas for those other things that electric could easily replace. But look electric could also easily replace your stove, because induction stove tops are better than gas!

And so one of the most important things that you can do as a person who's concerned about climate change is take the little thing out of your brain that says, “gas stoves are the best kind of stove,” and look at it and be like, “you're a freaking idiot.” Then you throw it onto your induction stove top and nothing happens, because that's not how it works. It induces the heat in the pan. The stove top itself doesn't get hot cuz they're amazing. So you have to put it into a pan, put that on the stove top, fry it up, and have it with butter … This is why I script. That right there, is why I script, so that doesn't happen!

…

It's not important that you replace your gas stove right now. In fact, it's probably best that you don't. It's important that you don't think it's better than induction because it's not. Because at some point in the future, someone's going to knock on your door and say, “This area is about to have its natural gas pipes replaced, and we have to decide whether or not to replace them with infrastructure that will last 60 to 80 years.” And if a bunch of people in your neighborhood say, “Well, I would, but I really like my gas stove top,” it's not going to happen, and we're going to keep burning methane in people's houses for 80 years! I would be sympathetic if gas were better but it's not!

[atplblog]

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[lynaferns]

Actually, cooking and baking can be really easy, and I don't mean cooking big elegant plates like in fancy restaurants, but homemade cooking. Especially if you have a recipe and follow it closely (the first time at least).

Each house is different, not every oven works the same, a gas stove is not the same as a ceramic hob. So maybe a recipe says that you have to bake a cake 200°C 30 mins but your oven has a little elf living inside or something and that thing heats up like the fire of hell so you have to turn it down to 170°.

Try recipes and make small changes each time, like: what if I use less oil in this? or sunflower instead of olive? I normally fry this until it's toasty, but what if I take it out before it starts to get brownish? What if I put a few drops of lemon?

This is how I learned how important onions and garlic are for the foods I like.

You can grab a pan, put it at a slow fire with a little bit of oil and leave one or two garlic cloves on it, the oil will take on the garlic flavor. Then you put away the garlic and fry a chicken steak in that same pan. You can cover the steak in parsley breadcrumbs before hand. You fry it until it gets brown (at max. because beyond than point you may burn it) and that's it, you have something better than just frying the chicken with nothing but oil in the pan (or maybe you prefer it that way idk).

When you are done with the pan, you can put a couple of bread slices cooking in the residual heat, taking the garlic and chicken flavor.

I don't like chickpeas when they are stew, but FRIED? OH MY GOD they are the best.

It's the usual elaboration of stewed chickpeas, but when they are done you separate the chickpeas from the broth (well drained), do the pan with a bit of oil + garlic cloves thing, after it's heated up put away the garlic (or not), and pour a few full spoons of the broth into the pan and fry the chickpeas. You want the humidity of the chickpeas to evaporate, get them dry. If you feel they are frying too much add a bit more broth, lower the fire and cover them to recover a bit of humidity.

It may not turn out well on the first try, some recipes are tricky but it's just a process of learning how your kitchen works with what you have and get the hang of it.

[dnstore]

৩০০ টাকায় রান্না করুন সারামাস ইলেকট্রিক চুলায় | Caribbean Induction & Infrared In Bangladesh.

Top best brands of electric induction cookers and infrared cookers in Bangladesh. Induction Cooker Price in Bangladesh from dn store.

Shop Name: DN STORE

Address:

Shop: 1-2, And 21-22-23, (Ground Floor), Biswas Builders, New Market City Complex, New Market, Dhaka-1205

Mobile:

01719-439533

01681-440688

01851-083947

Electric cookers are kitchen appliances designed to cook or heat food using electricity as their energy source. They come in different types and configurations to suit different cooking needs. Here are some common types of electric cookers:

1. Electric Oven: Electric ovens usually have heating elements on the cooktop surface. They can be coil-based or smooth glass-ceramic surfaces (known as smooth-tops). Coil-based stoves expose the heating coils, while smooth tops have the heating element under a glass-ceramic surface, providing easy cleaning and a sleek appearance.

2. Electric Range: An electric range combines an electric stove with an oven in one unit. The ranges come in different sizes with features like multiple burners, convection ovens, and digital controls.

3. Electric Pressure Cooker: Also known as an electric multicooker, these appliances combine various cooking functions in one unit, including pressure cooking, slow cooking, sautéing, steaming, and more. They are convenient for preparing a variety of foods with minimal effort.

4. Electric Rice Cooker: This appliance is specially designed for cooking rice. It automates the cooking process, ensuring perfectly cooked rice every time without the need for constant monitoring.

5. Induction Cooktop: Although not technically a cooker, induction cooktops are becoming increasingly popular. They use electromagnetic energy to heat pots and pans directly, providing faster heating, precise temperature control, and energy efficiency than traditional electric or gas cooktops.

When choosing an electric cooker, consider factors such as cooking capacity, energy efficiency, cooking features, safety features, and budget. In addition, it is important to follow the manufacturer's instructions for proper use and maintenance to ensure longevity and safety.

[sjsmith56]

The Knock on the Front Door - Part 6, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots.

Summary: many families received the knock on the front door from Western Union during World War II, advising them of the capture or death of a loved one. This is George and Winnifred Barnes’ experience.

Length: 4.25K

Characters: George, Winnifred and Rebecca Barnes, minister, Peggy Carter

Warnings: Bucky’s capture, Bucky’s death, grief, anger at God

Author's note:  Many thanks to the user Fictitious on AO3 who suggested a one shot of George and Winnifred Barnes' reaction to the capture of Bucky, his rescue, then his final fall.  Certainly, it was something that many families experienced and I hope I did it justice. Told from Winnifred Barnes’ POV. The formatting of the telegrams came from actual copies of real telegrams that I found on the internet.

<<Part 5

🗞️

October 1943

The alarm clock went off and George reached over to turn it off before turning back to me.  I knew I had to get up to see to his breakfast and make his lunch for work, but I had such a headache the night before that I was sure I was coming down with something.  He stroked my arm.

"How do you feel Winnie?" he asked.  "Still have the headache?"

"Worse," I mumbled.  "Must be a cold coming on.  Give me a few minutes and I'll get up to get your breakfast going."

"No, you stay in bed," he said, patting my arm.  "I can get my own.  Goodness knows I can fry up a couple of eggs, some bacon and toast.  I'm not that useless."

"George, you're not useless at all," I smiled.  "I'm awake anyways and have to get Rebecca up for school.  I'll go back to bed after I get her seen to, I promise."

"You're a good woman," he said, as he sat up and stretched.  "I hope we get a letter from Bucky soon.  The fighting in Italy has been hard but they must get some time away from the fighting."

He headed for the bathroom to wash up and shave while I put my robe on and headed down to the kitchen.  It was cold down there and I went down to the cellar to put some coal in the furnace.  I made a note to order some more coal soon.  Back in the kitchen I put the coffee on and turned on the gas burner on the stove, placing the cast iron frying pan on it with half a dozen slices of bacon in it.  While those began to cook I cut half a dozen slices of bread from the loaf, and pulled a couple of eggs out of the ice box.  Four of the bread slices were buttered then I layered some delicatessen meat and cheeses on them, before slicing them in half and wrapping them in waxed paper.  The other two slices were put into the toaster for George's breakfast.  Along with a piece of apple pie, an apple, and several cookies which were put with the sandwiches into George's lunch box I poured most of the coffee into his flask, adding some cream and sugar.  I put his lunch box and flask on the side table next to the front door.  Opening the front door I took the morning newspaper out of the mailbox and brought it inside so George could read it while he ate breakfast.

The bacon was done and I lifted the pieces out, then drained some of the fat out, collecting it in a jar that I kept just for that as bacon grease was good for cooking.  I broke the two eggs into the pan and noticed the bread was toasted so I buttered the slices.  As I splashed the bacon grease onto the eggs to cook the top George came down, dressed for work at the shipyards.  He gave me a kiss on the side of the head and poured himself some of the coffee from the coffee pot, even though it was the stuff at the bottom and likely very strong.  He always said he liked it that way as it was the best way to start the day.  With the spatula I put the eggs on a plate, along with the bacon and toast, placing it in front of him, along with the bottle of ketchup, salt and pepper. 

While he began eating I began making oatmeal for Rebecca's breakfast, bringing water to a boil, adding the oats, stirring them then lowering the temperature so they cooked slowly.  They took longer, sometimes as long as 30 minutes plus I had to keep my eye on them to keep them from burning. 

"Oh dear," said George, suddenly as he read the paper.  "Winnie, look at this."  He pointed to a newspaper article of recent battles.  "The 107th was in a battle at Azzano in Italy a few days ago.  Out of 200 men less than 50 returned.  The rest are either dead or captured."

"You think Bucky is alright?" I asked, my fear threatening to choke me.  "They send telegrams if they're killed or captured, don't they?"

"Yes, they do," he said.  "We should have received something by now, I would hope."  He stood up and held me, stroking my back.  "No news is good news, right?  He's okay.  I feel it in my bones."

Nodding my head, I let him comfort me.  He returned to eating his breakfast while I stirred the oats.  The 23rd Psalm entered my head and I tried to take comfort in the words.  Bucky had to be okay, he just had to be.  George finished his breakfast and stood up, checking the clock.  Once more he hugged me, then kissed me on the cheek.

"I'll phone at lunch," he said.  "It will be alright, Winnie.  I have to go."

He put his work jacket on, tucked his lunchbox and flask under his arm and took the car keys to drive to the shipyard.  While I washed his breakfast dishes, I continued to watch the oatmeal, then hurried upstairs to wake up Rebecca.  She was already awake, bless her, and was just finishing up in the bathroom. 

Back down in the kitchen I took out the milk, brown sugar and a banana.  School lunch programs started the year before so I didn't have to worry about making Rebecca a lunch.  While I watched the oatmeal I read the news article about the 107th, hoping there was more information I could glean from it but it was pretty cut and dried.  Folding the paper back up I put it aside and checked the oatmeal texture, deciding it was ready.  I spooned out enough for each of us and sat down waiting for my daughter to come down for breakfast.  We ate without talking ... rather, I ate without talking as Rebecca spoke enough for both of us, telling me about an activity that was planned for school later in the week.  I must have not been listening because she put her hand on my arm.

"Ma, what's wrong?" she asked.  "I asked you about the bake sale three times."

"Sorry, sweetheart," I replied.  "My mind is elsewhere.  I had such a headache last night and I feel it coming on again."

"Do you want me to get you some aspirin?" she asked, and I smiled at her, nodding my assent.

She returned with a couple of aspirin a few minutes later and I took them with some water.  After kissing Rebecca goodbye, I cleaned up the rest of the breakfast dishes and headed upstairs to make the beds and get dressed.  There were some of George's work shirts that needed washing, so I got the wash tub out and put the kettle on for hot water.  After dissolving some detergent in the water, I put his shirts in to soak for a while in the hot water.  Once it had cooled down a bit, I could scrub them on the washboard.  While they soaked, I dusted and phoned the coal man to get more coal delivered soon.  Just as I got the washboard out there was a knock on the door and I wiped my hands on my apron to see who it was.  As soon as I opened the door, I felt a rush of fear in my stomach as it was a telegraph delivery boy.

"Mrs. George Barnes?" he asked.  I nodded and he gave me an envelope, smiling sympathetically.  "Would you please sign here?"

I signed the form and he tipped his cap, then headed back down to his bicycle, off to deliver another telegram.  Holding it in my hand I stared at it for the longest time then brought it to the kitchen and placed it on the table, wanting desperately to know what it said, but at the same time fearing what it could say.  I opened the envelope and pulled the telegram out.

WA 4446 GOVT=WASHINGTON OC 21 843A

MR AND MRS GEORGE BARNES=

140 68 ST BROOKLYN NY=

THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOUR SON SGT JAMES B BARNES HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION SINCE 10 OCTOBER IN EUROPEAN AREA PERIOD IF FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION ARE RECEIVED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY NOTIFIED PERIOD=

ULIO THE ADJUTANT GENERAL

A sob escaped from my throat.  My boy, my beautiful boy, was missing in action.  Giving in to the emotions I had a long cry at the kitchen table then slowly pulled myself together, placing the telegram back into the envelope and putting it in my apron pocket.  The water that George's shirts were soaking in was cooler and I began rubbing them against the washboard, working through my grief and fear by scrubbing the stains on the fabric.  When I was satisfied with their cleanliness I wrung them out and used a pot to empty out the dirty water down the drain.  Then I picked it up and tipped the rest out, rinsing the tub so I could fill it with clean water again to rinse the shirts.  Once that was done I wrung them out again then took them out to the line and pinned them up to dry. 

I could see Mrs. Webster in the yard across doing the same and we waved at each other.  A part of me desperately wanted to tell her about Bucky but I wanted to tell George first before anyone else.  Plastering a smile on my face I wished her a good morning and turned back into the house, desperate to find something, anything that would keep my mind off that awful piece of paper in my apron pocket.  As the clock neared to lunch time at the docks I stayed in the kitchen, not wanting to be far from the phone.  When it did finally ring, and I heard George's voice he knew by the sound of mine that something was wrong.

"Winnie, please, tell me straight," he whispered. 

I could hear him choke up a little.  Pulling the telegram out I read it out to him and and heard the sudden intake of breath on his end, then the muttered swear.

"Damn, damn them all to hell," he said.  "I'm going to try to get the afternoon off.  Stay strong.  It says missing in action, that's not the same as killed.  He could be a prisoner and if they follow the Geneva Convention they have to notify the Red Cross that they have him."

He hung up but it was well over an hour before he showed up at the door.  As soon as he came in he held me, both of us crying.  Then he kissed my forehead and asked to see the telegram, poring over it, hoping to decipher something more from it than what was on the paper.  When Rebecca arrived home from school she knew as soon as she saw her father there that something was wrong.  George broke the news to her about her brother and she immediately began to cry, as he enveloped her in his arms and let her cry her eyes out. 

For almost two weeks we lived in limbo, not knowing anything.  George still went to work, Rebecca still went to school, and I existed in a state between grief and denial, refusing to accept that the God I believed in would take my only son so soon from us.  George still had some acquaintances in the service, and he asked them to let him know if there was any word of POWs taken at Azzano.  On November 4, a Thursday, he came home early from work.  When he opened the door and called my name my first thought was that he had received the dreaded telegram at work but when he came in with a joyous look on his face, holding that day's copy of Stars and Stripes, the services newspaper, I began to hope.  The headline read 400 Prisoners Liberated, and the story told of a new hero ... Captain America ... who had gone single-handedly behind enemy lines to get to the 107th POWs, all 163 of them who survived the battle at Azzano, plus others from other units also being held. 

"It says that?" I asked, quickly scanning the article.

"It says he deliberately went looking for the 107th because his childhood friend was one of the prisoners," replied George.  "Winnie, Steve Rogers is Captain America."

"No, that can't be right," I replied.  "He was 4F.  Although, he did get accepted for basic training after Bucky shipped out.  How could he become strong enough to go by himself and rescue 400 POWs?"

We both read the article and although Captain America wasn't identified by name it described him as a handsome, tall, muscular man of 25 with blond hair and blue eyes, who came from Brooklyn.   Even if the height and weight description was wrong, everything else fit.  Who else could it be?  Later that evening we received another telegram and this time it was from the Army to say that Bucky had been returned to military control.  There were no other details but that apparently meant he was safe. 

It was another couple of days before we received another telegram and this one was from Bucky himself.

AM SAFE AND SOUND THANKS TO STEVE PERIOD WILL WRITE SOON PERIOD LOVE YOU ALL=

BUCKY=

It was as if everything was right again in our lives; the sun seemed brighter, the air seemed warmer and all three of us awakened in the morning full of hope for the day.  Even better was the day we received an actual letter from Bucky.  In it he confirmed that Steve was in fact, Captain America, the new hero of the war.  Bucky couldn't say what happened to Steve as it was secret but the sickly boy of their childhood and youth was no more, replaced by a strong man with incredible abilities but still containing the good heart of the boy we loved as much as our son.  A picture taken of the two showed two handsome young men, both now working on a special unit called the Howling Commandos.  It was as if they were always meant to be together, side by side, fighting evil for real, instead of pretending like when they were boys. 

Over the following months Bucky wrote regularly, and we read the exploits of the unit in the newspapers and heard about them on the radio through on air war correspondents.  There was even a Life magazine photoshoot for the February 1945 issue that was done and already on the newsstands in early January.  We bought two copies as soon as we saw it, which was smart because it sold out in the neighbourhood just because of the prominence of the two local boys who were in it.  It wasn't long after the magazine came out that the knock on our front door happened for the last time.  It was Saturday, during dinner when we heard the sound.  George got up to answer the knock, wondering if it was another local reporter wanting our take on the Life magazine cover.  I heard the door close and no sound after that, wondering what was going on.

"George?" I called out.  "Is everything alright?"

He slowly returned to the kitchen holding the telegram open in his hand, his face suddenly looking a hundred years old.  His mouth was open and then a cry came out of it that frightened me, and Rebecca.  Stepping towards me he began shaking his head in denial.

"There has to be a mistake," he said.  "This can't be true."

"George, dearest, what is it?" I asked, now afraid to know the answer. 

That's when he handed the telegram to me, and I read for myself.

WA 1715 GOVT=WASHINGTON JAN 20 615P

MR AND MRS GEORGE BARNES=

140 68 ST BROOKLYN NY=

THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEPEST REGRET THAT YOUR SON SGT JAMES B BARNES HAS BEEN REPORTED KILLED IN ACTION 16 JANUARY IN EUROPEAN AREA PERIOD FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION ARE MARKED CLASSIFIED PERIOD A LETTER FROM HIS COMMANDING OFFICER WILL BE SENT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE PERIOD=

ULIO THE ADJUTANT GENERAL

I slumped to the floor, still holding that telegram in my hand.  Like George, I couldn't believe it.  Bucky, dead?  How could this happen?  Rebecca sat at the table, tears pouring out of her eyes, not needing to read the telegram to know that it was the worst news possible.  There was another sound in the room, a terrible keening wail and it was coming from my throat.  George kneeled down on the floor with me, gathering me into his arms, adding his sobs to my wails.  Dinner was forgotten as our family bled our pain out as surely as if we had taken a knife to our wrists. 

When we didn't sleep that night we didn't go to church the next day and the minister came to the door, knocking hesitantly.  George answered it and Reverend Martin knew as soon as he saw our faces what had happened.  He read the telegram, then grasped my hand as we sat in the parlour.

"He is with our Lord now," he said in a gentle voice.  "His struggle is over and he is in a better place."

"Don't," I breathed through a clenched mouth.  "I can't believe God took him for real this time.  It was bad enough he made him a prisoner before.  Wasn't that enough?  What did Bucky ever do to deserve this?  He stood up for people, never lied, never cheated anyone, worked hard.  Tell me why he has to die while someone less deserving gets to live."

Of course, he just spouted some more platitudes that I didn't want to hear.  Abruptly I stood up and went to our room, just to get away from the droning and completely inadequate words that were meant to comfort me.  George came upstairs after he saw the Reverend out.

"He's bringing us a gold star flag," he said.  We had a blue star flag in our front window indicating we had a family member fighting overseas.  "He truly is sorry, Winnie.  Remember he has two boys in Europe as well."

"When one of them dies I'll listen to him again, but not until then," I replied angrily.

George kneeled down in front of me, grasping my hands in his.  "Winnie, your anger won't bring him back."  His voice cracked as he spoke and I could see he was on the verge of crying again.  "Take comfort where we can, even if we don't believe it yet.  Bucky wouldn't want you to be angry because that's not how you raised him."  I looked at my husband dully, surprised that he said I raised our son.  "You did raise him because I was busy in the army then at the shipyards trying to make a living after I lost my eye.  He's my son but he's your boy, through and through.  Everything good about him is from you."

He bent his head into my lap and began to weep for Bucky, truly weep like I had never heard him before.  Pulling one of my hands out of his I stroked his grey hair and cried again for my beautiful son; so handsome, so confident, so good a man.  By mid-afternoon there was a steady stream of visitors bringing food, baking, and just themselves to sit with us in the parlour.  I accepted their condolences with as much grace as I could muster.  The gold star flag replaced the blue star flag in the window, to show the world we had lost a son. 

Two weeks later we received a letter from Steve.  He tried to tell us as much as he could about Bucky's death but even what he did say was too much for the censors as someone had blackened over whole sentences.  Included was the last picture taken of the two of them before it happened. All we knew for sure is that he fell into a mountain ravine that was several hundred feet deep.  There was no possibility that he survived the fall and no chance that they could get down to the bottom to retrieve his body for burial as the area was still under enemy control.  In a way, it was worse knowing that Bucky died alone.  Guilt was eating away at Steve's soul; that much was evident in his letter.  For all of his abilities he felt like he had failed to keep his best friend safe, and he blamed himself for Bucky's death.

Together we wrote Steve, as much to thank him for being witness to the event, as well as for writing us what he could about it.  We spoke of the end of the war coming sooner, rather than later, and told him we loved him like a son.  George posted it on his way to work.  A week later it was all over the newspapers that Steve had gone missing, and was presumed dead himself, in a heroic act of self-sacrifice.  The letter we sent him was returned, enclosed in a box that contained Bucky's possessions as well as Steve's as he had designated us his next of kin. 

We received both of their life insurance payouts, not that we wanted it.  Part of the money went to a memorial for both of them in Green-wood Cemetery and we visited there every Memorial and Veterans Day.  When Rebecca went to nursing college in 1948 her tuition was paid from that life insurance.  So was her wedding to Harvey Proctor in 1954.  When George passed away in 1965, I was able to purchase a plot for both of us near the boy's memorial.  I continued to live in our brownstone as it was all paid for.

Over the years I received the occasional visit from a British woman, Peggy Carter, who was friends with both Steve and Bucky.  She was a lovely lady and told me that both men were pivotal in fighting against a division of the Nazis that were even more evil than those villains.  In the summer of 1971, I called her when I found something inside the screen door at the entrance to my back stoop.  It was a beautiful day and I wanted to open the window on the door to let in some fresh air.  At the bottom of the doorway, stuck in between the inner and outer door was a copy of The Hobbit, a used paperback copy.  Inside it was cash, over a hundred dollars.  There were also a pair of hand knit socks.  Out on the stoop was a handmade cloth bag, like the type hippies used.  The truly puzzling thing that I called Peggy about was an inscription inside the book.

"To James, May you be free to find your own Eden.  Seth and Summer."

She looked at it, a small frown on her brow.  "What do you think it means, Mrs. Barnes?" she asked.

"Well, Bucky loved The Hobbit," I said.  "He must have read it many times over the years, and I know he took it with him to Europe because it was in the possessions returned to us.  James was Bucky's Christian name.  It means "the one who follows."  What if ... what if Bucky survived but he lost his memories and somehow found his way home finally.  Perhaps this is his way to say he's still alive but he's not free to make it known yet, not until he finds peace."

"Does that give you comfort?" asked Peggy kindly, looking into my eyes.

I sighed and gave a sad smile.  "I found comfort many years ago, when I accepted Bucky and Steve's death, and began to believe in God again.  But this, it makes me wonder and question if Bucky really did die.  If he didn't then where has he been and why leave this here now?  Why didn't he knock on the door and come home?"

"Perhaps it's as you said," replied Peggy.  "He needs to find peace first.  Maybe he just wanted to know that you were alright and not in any danger."  I picked up on that and looked sharply at Carter.  "Keep the book, the bag and the money.  Don't tell anyone else about it, not even your daughter.  Thank you for letting me know about it."

She wouldn't say anything more about it and took her leave.  I had the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on, but it seemed like she didn't want to give me false hope or something.  Whoever left it, even if it was a lost hippie that maybe took refuge in my yard one night, would have been welcome in my home.  They wouldn't even have had to pay me as I believed in helping people who needed help, period.  If it was Bucky, I hoped he was alright and wished that he had let me look on his face, even if it was for just an instance.  To see his eyes and smile again would have gladdened my heart considerably.

Part 7>>

Series Masterlist

Please reblog if you liked this.

[jay-in-the-notebook]

Spitballing a Forespoken Rewrite: Part 1

We open with Frey walking silently through a dark alley, keeping her head down. She passes by someone lighting his cigarette. Recognizing him, distracted, she tries to move faster, only to find herself walking right into a gang that immediately converges.

Frey is held to a wall, as the man who was smoking (we'll call him Joe) clicks his tongue.

Joe: You know, when Boss told me you had sticky fingers, I didn't think it was supposed to be a warning. Where's the money? Frey: (Stuttering) I... I handed it off to...

Joe presses his cigarette into her forehead, and she yelps.

Joe: You know... I was something of a magician, back in the day.

He pulls back a sleeve, to reveal a tattoo of a top hat and a sparkling wand on his forearm.

Joe: Learned all the basics of a good performance. Cards, strings, all that sleight-of-hand crap. But my best tricks, I don't keep up my sleeve.

He pulls out a gun, and pushes it into her neck.

Joe: You have three seconds to tell me where the money is. One. Two. Frey: Apartment! My apartment, 4845, Holland, 530!

Joe backs away, and gives a theatrical flourish.

Joe: Abracadabra.

The gang laughs, dragging her away from the wall as they all start walking.

Joe: Let's bring her home!

We cut to Joe, Frey, and some gang members driving in a car- Joe up front, Frey stuck between to people in the back. Frey's eyes can't linger on any one thing, but she forces them to stay down.

Next, they gather in her apartment. The money isn't in plain sight. Some remarks are made, but Joe isn't in any hurry, so the gang begins searching.

It's here that the player has control for the first time, over the camera (an early glimpse into a rudimentary mechanic). They have the option to pan the camera and examine things in the room, such as Homer (her cat), Joe (who if the player tries to look at too many times will get impatient, and end this moment early by knocking her out), out the window behind her (for which she'll be warned not to get any ideas), or the place where she hid the moneybag.

Joe notices where she's looking, and has someone pull the money out.

After taking a look inside, he appears pleased.

Joe: Now for our next trick, we'll be making you disappear. Pleasure doing business, Frey.

Frey watches as they pull some things from her kitchen- cooking oil, old rags, a warped frying pan, some matches. They turn the gas stove on and place the pan on top. They pour the oil generously and throw the rags, making a trail from the tiled kitchen floor to the old wooden floorboards of the living area. They light a match, and throw it on the stove before knocking Frey unconscious.

Homer nudges her awake. By this point, the apartment is fully on fire. She weakly crawls to the window, and forces it open.

It's a long way down. The player regains control. They have the option to try to climb to the roof, carefully make their way down, or even re-enter the building to get through her apartment door. If she tries the roof, the door downstairs will lead into a dark void. Same if she slips through the window of a different apartment, or tries to leave through her room. Her way will be shut as she enters a world of total darkness.

In this new place, Freya recovers quickly from ailments holding her just moments before, and she straightens herself.

[arenainfosolution7878]

SCDF-Compliant Singapore Kitchen Fire Suppression Systems Made Simple

In the frenetic Singapore F&B industry, kitchens are where magic happens — and where fire danger accumulates silently. Grease, heat, and non-stop activity combine to make commercial kitchens one of the most fire-prone areas of any building. That's why equipping a kitchen with a trusted, SCDF-compliant kitchen fire suppression system Singapore is not just best practice — it's legal and safety necessity.

Whether you run a hawker stall, restaurant, hotel kitchen, or cloud kitchen, knowing how a kitchen fire suppression system Singapore operates can ensure you safeguard your people, your premises, and your peace of mind.

What Is a Kitchen Fire Suppression System?

Kitchen fire suppression system Singapore is a specialized fire protection solution that detects and extinguishes kitchen fires before they can cause harm. Unlike ordinary sprinkler systems, it is specifically aimed at preventing grease fires — the most prevalent and hazardous type in commercial kitchens.

These systems are also automatic, engaging as soon as a fire is detected and releasing a chemical agent to extinguish flames and remove heat. They also turn off the gas supply to prevent further fuel from continuing to feed the fire Drako Fire.

Why Singapore Kitchens Need Fire Suppression

Singapore's kitchens are strictly governed by the SCDF Fire Code, where fire protection systems must be fitted into specific cooking environments. Without Singapore kitchen fire suppression system, you stand at risk of non-compliance, fines, and — more significantly — lives.

But regulations alone are not everything. Fires ignite in seconds. When a pan has been left alone or oil has been left to overheat, flames can jump to other surfaces or overhead hoods. A kitchen fire suppression system Singapore installed properly captures that fire in an instant, minimizing damage and saving lives.

How a Kitchen Fire Suppression System Works

This is what happens when a fire ignites:

Detection: The system consists of heat-sensitive links or detectors installed in the kitchen hood or duct.

Activation: Upon detection of a fire, the system acts automatically — no human operation needed.

Suppression: A wet chemical agent is discharged directly onto the fire. It instantly cool the flame and creates a foam barrier to avoid re-ignition.

Gas Shutoff: At the same time, the gas valve attached to the cooking device closes off to eliminate the source of fuel for the fire.

The whole process occurs in seconds — and that quickness is what makes a kitchen fire suppression system Singapore so critical.

Types of Kitchen Installations That Require Suppression Systems

Not all kitchens are created equal, but most commercial installations ought to include a kitchen fire suppression system Singapore, particularly if they incorporate:

Deep fryers

Open-flame stoves

Flat-top grills

Woks

Charcoal pits or BBQ stations

Even smaller food establishments or home-based food operations conducted under the licensing regulations of Singapore are increasingly finding themselves required to factor in a basic fire suppression system in Singapore in order to enhance safety and reduce risk.

Picking the Right System for Your Kitchen

There isn't a do-it-all solution. A professional fire protection engineer will evaluate your kitchen design, ventilation, cooking equipment, and high-risk areas to suggest the ideal kitchen fire suppression system Singapore.

Some are pre-engineered for standard kitchen configurations, and others are custom-made to accommodate intricate or high-traffic commercial kitchens. Either platform, proper installation and SCDF certification are mandatory for the system to be compliant.

Maintenance: The Key to Long-Term Protection

Installing a kitchen fire suppression system Singapore is just step one. Inspection, servicing, and recharging are crucial to guarantee your system performs in an emergency.

According to SCDF regulations, certified experts should service your system every 6 months, inspecting nozzles, pressure, and the integrity of heat detectors. Many company owners neglect this — until it's too late.

A faulty kitchen fire suppression system Singapore is as bad, or even worse, than having none at all.

How It Assists in Business Continuity

Fire destruction isn't simply about fires — it is about lost stock, downtime, repair expenses, and insurance hassles. A functional kitchen fire suppression system Singapore provides minimal interruption.

Indeed, some insurers even demand an operational fire suppression system Singapore to settle claims or provide commercial policies. It's not merely safety — it's sound business.

Compliance and Peace of Mind

Compliance with the SCDF Fire Code is not only a requirement — it's a commitment to saving lives, customers, and businesses. Having an approved kitchen fire suppression system Singapore indicates that you are serious about fire safety.

Beyond compliance, it provides you with the reassurance that your kitchen crew, clients, and earned business are more secure.

Final Thoughts

Speed and timing are everything in any kitchen — and so is fire safety. A quick, dependable, and SCDF-approved kitchen fire suppression system Singapore may be the difference between a small fright and a total catastrophe. Don't wait until a fire breaks out before making safety your number one priority. Whether you're building a new kitchen or renovating an existing one, invest in a proper fire suppression system in Singapore. Because in an area where there's heat, flames, and pressure all around — being prepared is paramount.