#BEST COOKING PANS FOR GAS STOVE

[prokitchendeals]

Cook Like A Pro With The Best Pots And Pans For Gas Stove Cooking

If you're looking to take your cooking game to the next level, then you'll need the right tools for the job. In this article, we'll be examining some of the best pots and pans on the market that are designed specifically for gas stove cooking. Find out what makes them a must-have in your kitchen, and how they can elevate your cooking skills!

Benefits of Using the Best Pots and Pans for Gas Stove Cooking

If you want to cook like a pro, then you need to use the best pots and pans for gas stove cookware Gas stoves are the preferred choice of many professional chefs because they allow for more precise temperature control. This means that you can avoid overcooking or undercooking your food, which can ruin a dish.

In addition to better temperature control, using the best pots and pans for gas stove cooking also allows you to cook with less fat and oil. This is because gas stoves heat up faster than electric stoves, so you don't need to use as much fat or oil to cook your food. This can help to make your meals healthier and lower in calories.

Finally, using the best pots and pans for gas stove cooking can also help you save money. Gas is typically cheaper than electricity, so you'll save money on your utility bills each month if you switch to cooking with gas. You may even find that you can buy a higher quality of pot or pan when you switch to using gas, since it will last longer and perform better than an electric model.

[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!

[pedrospatch]

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.

[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

[nottyourlover]

Birthday Shenanigans.

a/n: i literally need to study for my exam block for like the next month until it's over, if i post anything on tumblr literally tell me to shut up and study. temporary hiatus?

summary: azriel and your son attempt to make you breakfast, but it goes horribly wrong.

warnings: none?

word count: 622.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of you and Azriel's spacious master bedroom, waking you up. You yawned loudly, reaching over to Azriel's side of the bed only to find it empty. Patting the cool mattress, you frowned, thinking that surely, he didn't leave for another early morning? Then you heard loud clanging noises coming from downstairs, Orion's small giggles and Azriel's poor attempts at muffling his noise. Oh, you sighed in relief.

Before you could get up to investigate, however, Azriel appeared, leaning against in the doorway, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Good morning, my love," he said, lips curling into a dazed smile. "Happy birthday."

You beamed, feeling a warm sense of happiness wash over you. "Thank you, Az," you said. "What's going on down there?"

Azriel chuckled. "Orion and I thought we'd surprise you with breakfast in bed. But things aren't going exactly as planned."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a little worried since last time's family cooking night ended with meatballs stuffed in places where no things should ever be stuffed.

"...Az, what does that mean?"

Azriel shrugged, "Well, let's just say that there's flour everywhere, some pancakes are stuck to the roof, and our son is covered in syrup."

You couldn't help but laugh, worry clearing ever so slightly, imagining the scene in the kitchen. "Sounds like quite the party. You've left him alone downstairs?"

Azriel looked a little sheepish, "He promised to be good!"

Helping you get out of bed, he took your hand and led you down the stairs. As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted with a scene that was both chaotic and heartwarming.

Orion was covered in syrup and flour, but he was grinning from ear to ear, clearly proud of himself for helping his dad make breakfast. Azriel returned to what you assumed was his previous post at the stove, flipping pancakes with a look of intense concentration on his face.

All around your beloved family was a mess of flour, broken eggs and syrup, with pans and mixing bowls scattered haphazardly across the countertops.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a sense of overwhelming love and gratitude for your little family. "This is the best birthday present ever," you said, taking in the chaotic scene around you.

Orion shook his head, laughing. "No mama, we got you an even better gift!"

Azriel looked up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Orion's right but wait until you see what I have planned for you tonight," he said, nonchalantly. You death glared Azriel, but Orion didn't even seem to notice his father's innuendo, as he was busy going through a bag of chocolate chips. Azriel chuckled, "I'm not sure how edible these pancakes are going to be though."

At the word "pancakes" Orion finally looked up at you with a grin, his syrup-covered face beaming. "Happy birthday, mama!" he said, as you came closer, giggling as he outstretched his grubby hands. He was only 6 now, but you and Azriel both felt he was growing up too quickly.

You gave your son a big hug, brushing away his wavy raven hair and kissing his forehead. Azriel called, "Wait for me!" and the three of you stood in the middle of a dreadfully messy kitchen and embraced.

"Mama, something smells weird," Orion suddenly exclaimed, plugging his nose dramatically.

"Azriel! The pancakes!" Azriel's eyes widened as he dashed back to the stove where a cloud of gas was gathered, rising from the remains of a burnt pancake. Unfortunately for your husband, this time, the pancake wouldn't flip over at all, leaving a foul-smelling mess stuck to the pan.

He smiled sheepishly, "Happy Birthday?"

This, you thought, was what happiness truly meant. Messy, chaotic, and oh-so-sweet.

[mysticmunson]

lone star: part three (sneak peek)

summary: eddie had packed up his things and moved to the big city, indianapolis, but when he enters the fast-growing world of the adult entertainment industry, it gets lonely

authors note: how crazy would it be.... if i dropped this tonight.....?

The smoke surrounding him was illuminated, but faded into the night as it became darker. His chest burned as the tobacco smoke infiltrated his lungs, but he welcomed it with another drag. Flicking off some of the burned ashes, he rounded a corner to a dimer street. Quickening his stride, he made another turn before reaching his own street, stubbing the cigarette out on the bricks of the building and tossing it in the nearby waste bin. Digging into his pockets, he found his keys and unlocked his door, noticing how even the handle was cold.

Both Robin and Steve had retreated to their bedrooms like usual, acknowledging Eddie with a ‘Sup’ through the thin walls. The apartment was significantly warmer than he had left it, shrugging off his jacket and removing his shoes. The kitchen was fairly clean aside from a few pieces of silverware in the sink, the counters removed of the pizza boxes and beer bottles that were once there.

Opening the fridge, his stomach grumbled as it dawned on him that he hadn’t had a proper meal, lip curling as his search strengthened. Finding enough supplies to make grilled cheese, he snatched the Krafts singles and some white bread, double checking the expiration date on both just in case.

Placing a pan on the stove, he lit it to get it ready as he buttered some toast, putting a few slices in between. His mouth almost watered at the idea that it would be in his hands in mere moments, but he had to be patient, awaiting his gas stove to kick into gear. 

He crossed his arms against his chest, leaning against the counter tops, staring at the preparation, but that only lasted a few seconds until he thought of you. It’s unfortunate it took a pervert following you to build a foundation for friendship, but as he left your apartment, he felt like your friend. Not just your coworker or someone you tolerate, but someone you would actually enjoy being around. It’s then Eddie realizes how long it has been since he’s had to form a friendship, that number going back even further if he didn’t meet them through someone else like his own roommates. 

Before his mind got the best of him, he put the sandwich down, hearing the rewarding sizzle. As if on cue, he heard a series of doors and footsteps, Steve and Robin entering the kitchen. He was wearing old gym sweats and a Stevie Nicks shirt that belonged to Robin that he took after it ended up in his laundry, while she wore a pair of sleep shorts and a cable knit sweater that belonged to him that she also stole when it appeared in her laundry. 

“Chef Munson, would you do me the honor of making me a grilled cheese?” Robin announced, puffing her chest like some sort of royal guard, side eyeing the appealing food that’s scent only seemed to increase. 

“Me too? I’m just hungry.” Steve added, padding to the fridge to grab a Coke, handing the others each one of their own. 

“You guys are actual rats, I didn’t even say anything and you smelt me out.” Eddie complained, but his hands began forming two other sandwiches, only taking a break to flip the one currently cooking.

[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.

[fluffyprettykitty]

cooking classes with jessica!

Pairing: Jessica Jones x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 330 words

Summary: Convincing your girlfriend to finally learn how to cook is only half the struggle.

Warnings: swearing, food mentions throughout.

Author’s Note: thank you so much, hoping you will enjoy this dialogue heavy little thing!

Main Masterlist ・❥・Jessica Jones Masterlist

"Here, let me show you how to properly cut an onion."

"I know the best way to cut an onion." Jessica jokes and takes the onion between her hands. "You throw it in the trash and pick up a restaurant catalog."

"No, Jess, you'd promise you'd learn."

"And does it have to be with onions?"

"Onions are essential to every single dish."

"Even burgers?"

"Especially burgers."

"Alright." She raises an eyebrow. "So you cut it in half?"

"Yes, exactly." You demonstrate, slicing the onion in half. "And then once more." Repeating your motions you show it to her. "Until you got it small enough."

"Right."

"Then you turn on the gas stove and place a pan on it, adding a little bit of olive oil."

"This already sounds utterly exhausting."

"Jess, we haven't even started."

"Can't we just throw things in the microwave until they get warm?"

"Those meals have no nutrients." You point out, adding the oil to the pan and bringing the cut board next to it.

"I don't think I need nutrients."

"Yeah, you do. That's why you can't fucking get up in the mornings, your body is weak. Deficient."

"My body is not-: Jessica looks at you crossing her arms together." Oaky well," She rolls her eyes and sighs deeply. "Maybe just a little bit."

"Yeah, see, will you listen to me now?"

"Yeah, sure." She sighs and looks as you put the onions inside the pan. "So are we only eating onions or?"

You shoot daggers at her and continue to sauté your onions. "No, we will be eating mushrooms too." You smile and wink at her, knowing that now she can no longer complain to you.

Jessica makes a very disgusted face and stares at you.

The intricate ordeal of getting closer to your partner, what else could you do? She hands you the box of mushrooms and shakes her head and you know you had her right in the palm of your hands.

[soleadita]

a love letter to abuela's kitchen (i'm very aggressively shoving myself out of my comfort zone by posting this snippet from something i've been working on, mostly to try to hold myself accountable for actually finishing it.)

Abuela’s kitchen is always warm.

Logically, this is because there’s no ceiling fan or AC, and the windows are in prime position to greedily soak up every last drop of sunlight the days have to give, and the gas stove, in use more often than not, generates a constant cloud of heat.

But if you consider things like spirit and metaphor and poetry—and Eddie does, sometimes—it’s at least in part because the kitchen is the living, breathing, beating heart of Abuela's home.

How could it not be? The tiled floors have hosted decades of Thanksgivings and Nochebuenas and Easters; the counters accommodate tamale-building assembly lines to the tune of laughter and chisme and light-hearted bickering. It’s where Abuela and Pepa gather Eddie and Chris—and Buck, now, more often than not—in huge, welcoming hugs; it’s where Eddie and Chris arrange pan dulces and flowers and cards twice a month each May.

Abuela’s kitchen is always warm, and this makes it nearly unbearable in the unrelenting summers; but this time of year, in the crisp April evenings, it’s the best place in the house. Tonight, it’s filled with tall pots of caldo and beans, pans of rice and sautéed vegetables, the rich scent of tomatoes and onions and garlic cooked down and blended together.

Eddie inhales. This. This is home.

Abuela and Chris have begun to set the table, and Eddie steps in to help. He’s used to being relegated to things like this; that’s what happens when you’re infamous for a lack of cooking skills. Meanwhile, Buck makes a beeline for the counter, where Pepa presides over a roaring blender full of tomatillos and chiles.

“Oh, Pepa,” he exclaims over the noise. He beams like a kid on Christmas Eve, and it's just so goddamn adorable. “You didn’t.”

Buck loves this salsa, which is precisely why Pepa and Abuela make it every time he’s over for dinner. Eddie’s half-convinced that Buck would drink it straight from the blender, no chips necessary, if he could. Like, if someone gave him an entire batch all for himself and then left the room immediately—yeah, Eddie could see that happening.

“It’s nothing, Buck,” Pepa says. Her tone is no-nonsense, as usual, but Eddie can see the smile she’s trying to hide. “Ya sabemos que es tu favorito.”

Buck peers into the blender. “You still need the avocado, no?”

“And the cilantro and limes,” she says. “Grab them from the fridge, chamaco.”

“You got it, jefa.”

Abuela and Chris bring a stack of plates and napkins to the table; Eddie follows close behind with glasses and silverware. Buck weaves around them, pausing to give one of Chris’s curls a gentle tug. Once he reaches the fridge, he’s in there for thirty seconds, tops. He knows exactly what he needs, and he knows exactly where it is.

Buck navigates the space with ease; Eddie’s proud of it.

“Can I help with the salsa, too?” Chris asks.

Eddie meets Buck’s eyes over Chris’s head. Buck raises a brow: Is that okay? Eddie grins and gives a slight nod. Of course it is. Well, as long as Abuela doesn't mind.

“You done with the table, Chris?” Eddie asks.

Abuela waves a hand. “Está bien, Eddito. Si quiere ayudar con la cena, déjalo.”

“Then get over here, Superman,” Buck says, brandishing a bunch of cilantro with a flourish. “Here, wash this and give it to Tía Pepa, okay? Then you can help me squeeze the limes.”

Chris accepts the task with endearing solemnity. Cilantro is delicate, and he handles the leaves like he knows exactly how fragile they are. His palms, his fingers—they’re so small, still. Eddie glances down at his own. Had they ever been so tiny? Had they ever been so gentle?

And then he remembers, with stunning, startling clarity, the summer after Abuelito’s death.

He’d been—what, eight? Abuela had been planning to move to LA soon to stay with Pepa, but until then, Eddie had spent every spare moment by her side. He’d followed her like a shadow, like a duckling, while she bustled around preparing hominy for posole, sifting through bowls of dry pinto beans, roasting tomatoes and chiles and onions on the comal.

Abuela had tucked him beneath her arm, kissed his forehead—and then, one day, she asked if he wanted to help.

That kitchen, tiny and sun-drenched, was the first place Eddie ever truly felt like he belonged. Soft and warm, dim lights and familiar foods. Gentle hands and gentle voices, and a blend of languages that wrapped around him like a fuzzy blanket.

It hadn’t lasted long; Papi hadn't liked it, had told Mom, when he thought Eddie wasn’t listening, that it would make Eddie soft. Eddie had thought about the worn blue threads of his favorite blanket, Mom’s palm on his forehead when he had a fever. He’d thought about digging his fingers into a bowl of masa as Abuela and his tias rolled little balls and pressed them into tortillas.

Papi’s whispers had been jagged, harsh, like he was pushing his words out around shards of glass; but, back then, soft had sounded like a good thing to Eddie.

There’s a hand on his forearm; he jumps, startled.

“Eddie,” Buck says, low enough for just the two of them. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, and he means it, too, except his voice cracks, and when he swallows, he tastes tears. He tries again. “I’m really okay. Just – thinking, I guess. Happy.” He gestures to Chris, still holding the cilantro with reverence. “I mean, look at him.”

“He’s pretty amazing,” Buck agrees. He glances sideways, like he thinks full-on eye contact will make Eddie spook or something. “His dad’s pretty amazing, too.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, but doesn’t dare say. Right back at you.

“Buck, the limes!” Chris calls.

“Be right there, bud,” Buck says. He turns to Eddie and squeezes his shoulder. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay,” Eddie repeats.

And he is. He is okay. The thing that paces and jitters behind his ribcage, settling heavy on his shoulders, swirling around inside his head—it calms, here. There’s something about the contentment in Pepa’s good-natured protests when Buck juggles the limes before depositing them on the cutting board, and the peace in Abuela’s soft smiles, and the joy in Chris’s pure delight at squeezing juice into the blender.

When dinner is over and the room has emptied, Eddie will step in and wash the dishes, the pots, the pans. He’ll pull out the plastic tupperwares and put the leftovers away while Abuela makes coffee. For now, four of his favorite people in the entire world are here, loving each other; what else is there for him to say?

Eddie leans back, gives his entire weight to the doorway, and the kitchen holds him up.

[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.

[voidthewanderer]

So, since Tumblr apparently fucking sucks ass all of a sudden and decided to eat the ask itself:

This was a requested prompt from @bleumanouche from the NSFW Muse Reaction Prompts. He chose the prompt [ adore ] your muse being near reverent with mine in bed with Arsenic and Crow. Not their first time, as that’s going to be in my Slog centric story, but their second. These two make me so happy. It took me a long time to figure out what it was that I wanted to do with this, but I think this scenario works the best, especially for both of them. As always, MDNI is under the cut. This is a bit longer than my usual prompts, I feel like.

•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•

At first, he thought something was wrong. Things had been going well since they’d returned to The Slog; nobody was bothering them, life felt normal. Seeing Crow leaned up against the broken fridge in the guest house, practically clinging to the handle; seeming to be looking sadly down at something on the counter.

Arsenic approached carefully, though as he approached, he realized that his assumption was completely off. The scent of bacon had filled his nasal cavity. Snaking his arms around their waist, Crow immediately pressed into him.

“Where the hell did you find a camping stove?” Arsenic hummed; watching his partner flip the strips in the pan.

“Always had it, just kept it tucked away once I moved in here. I just didn’t wanna wake up anybody in the pool house making a ton of noise.”

“Babe, nobody in here even heard you set this up, let alone even smelled you making this. I don’t think they would have been an issue.”

“I also wanted to make you breakfast,” they hummed, pressing their head back into his collar, “I know the others won’t be awake by the time everything’s all finished and we’re back in the bedroom.”

This raised a small chuckle from the taller ghoul, him pressing his lips against their neck. Crow gave a content sigh, pulling the strips of bacon from the pan, pouring the leftover grease in a rusted Moscow mule mug before cracking an egg to cook off. Before they could add a second, Arsenic took it out of their hand, “Just one, we’ll split it. I wanna get back to the bedroom.”

Crow had to shift in his arms; seeing the soft smile playing on his lips. They returned it easily, pushing up on their tiptoes to lay a kiss on his lips. He pushed it rather aggressively back, trapping them between his body and the counter. They gave into his hunger so easily, further exciting him. He made sure they were completely pressed against the counter, his hand slowly reaching to turn off the gas to the stove. Someone else was going to enjoy what was already made; he knew exactly what he wanted.

Arsenic first hoisted his partner to be seated on the counter, their lips only breaking long enough as they heavily seated against the surface. He encouraged them to lock their legs around his torso, him easily carrying them back towards the bedroom. Crow went to object, but a light nip at their neck immediately stopped it. Arsenic had made his decision; he only hoped that they’d be willing to follow along.

The bedroom door was kicked shut, the duo quickly finding their home back in bed, Arsenic only releasing Crow’s thighs once their back was against the mattress and trapped beneath his own frame. He settled for the moment, letting Crow gather their thoughts before finally asking, “Is this OK?”

They gave a small nod, “Yeah.”

He kept their legs locked around his waist, shifting so he could be just on his knees, their position only supporting his not completely collapsing against them. Slowly, he worked his hands under their shirt, pushing it up, barely able to hide his excitement as they allowed his touches. His hands gently cupped their chest, just at the start of the swell of their breasts and they held their breath for just a moment. He stopped, studying their face. Their attempt to press further into his hands gave him his answer. Both mounds were quickly trapped within his hands, his hold still gentle. He hadn’t been with very many ghouls who had breasts; he didn’t want to risk hurting them.

They arched their back, almost desperate to press into his touch as much as possible. They rolled their hip as best as they could, him letting out a soft groan, “Easy…”

“Please…”

One hand fell to their waist, fingers curling beneath the band of their night pants. He locked eyes with them, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah…”

His breath quickened, having not expected them to want to have sex again so soon after their first time. They’d seemed like they’d wanted to wait much longer than the few weeks they’d been back. Unlocking their legs from his waist, he let their hips fall to the bed, pulling their pants down to their knees as they rested back. It didn’t matter how long he’d been with Crow, how many times the two had near intimate nights… He felt like a clumsy newbie with them. The nerves that twisted his stomach, knowing that they had the same feeling; each movement seeming so overly calculated. The nearly tripping out of his own sweatpants as he wormed his legs and hips between theirs, trying to push down theirs the rest of the way at the same time.

Freezing up as he started to press himself inside of them, trying to read their facial expression as it twisted into a nerve wracking mix of pleasure and pain. He’d almost called it off, but them completely locking their legs around his waist tightly, pressing his cock deeper inside of their cunt all but made him nearly cum right then and there. He’d forgotten how strong they actually were…

Crow let out a small breath, legs still tight around Arsenic’s waist. They wanted to get used to this… the only one to have ever made them feel this way. A shift made them focus on their partner, seeing that he was arching himself over them. Hands lightly pressed against the mattress on either side of their shoulder, face hovering inches away from theirs. They started to lighten their grip on his waist as he slowly started to thrust inside of them, bowing his head down to start kissing at their neck.

He could feel the moans that they tried to snuff in their throat; not wanting to make noise. Every hitched breath they took to swallow the noises they wanted to make. Had they been in the guest house by themselves? He’d be trying to force them out. How he yearned to really hear them… their second time and they still had to be quiet…

Hearing his name softly whimpered out made him freeze, completely holding himself inside of them. He pulled his face away from their neck to focus on theirs. They looked to him as well, their expression showing concern; had they done something wrong? Slowly, he returned to his gentle pace, pressing his lips heavily to theirs. They finally moaned into his mouth, him holding completely inside of them again as his fingers curled into the mattress. He wished the moment would never end… That he could hold out forever if it meant getting to stay so intimately close to the one he loved.

Neither could speak as Arsenic kept himself steady and gentle, making their moment last for as long as he possibly could. Eventually, he did release and Crow let out a gentle whimper, rolling their hip against Arsenic’s. He quickly locked his lips to theirs, stifling his moan. The two stilled in their moment, neither wanting to truly finalize the moment. What was done, was done.

Eventually, Arsenic did pull out, though cock was replaced with two fingers lightly rubbing, him relishing the moment as their legs twitched with pleasure. They let out a soft laugh, rolling onto their side, him quickly moving to pull them close to his chest.

“You’re absolutely intoxicating…” Arsenic couldn’t help but mutter out, lightly nipping at Crow’s earlobe. They went to go clean up and dress, but were quickly pulled back against Arsenic’s chest, “Nah… maybe I’m gonna want seconds…”

“You’re such a dork,” they couldn’t help but laugh, though didn’t object otherwise. The Slog could go one day without a professionally made breakfast; right now, all the couple wanted was each other and that was what they were going to have.

[decentcookware]

Explore the Best Tri Ply Fry Pan in Andhra Pradesh by Decent Cookware

When it comes to finding quality kitchen tools, choosing the right cookware is essential for a smooth and efficient cooking experience. In the kitchens of Andhra Pradesh, where delicious culinary traditions come to life daily, the best tri-ply fry pan in Andhra Pradesh stands out as a game-changer. Decent Cookware, a brand known for its high-quality and durable kitchen products, offers the finest tri-ply fry pan that meets the needs of every home chef in the state.

What is a Tri-Ply Fry Pan?

A tri-ply fry pan consists of three layers of metal: stainless steel, aluminum, and stainless steel again. This unique construction ensures even heat distribution, durability, and excellent cooking performance. The inner layer of stainless steel is food-safe and non-reactive, while the middle layer of aluminum allows for quick and consistent heat transfer. The outer stainless steel layer adds strength and ensures compatibility with all types of stovetops, including induction.

With the best tri-ply fry pan from Decent Cookware, you get a blend of traditional craftsmanship and modern technology, allowing you to cook Andhra’s favorite dishes with ease and precision.

Why Choose Decent Cookware’s Tri-Ply Fry Pan?

Here are some key reasons why Decent Cookware offers the best tri-ply fry pan in Andhra Pradesh:

1. Durability and Longevity

Our tri-ply fry pans are built to last. The robust stainless steel and aluminum layers are corrosion-resistant and can withstand high cooking temperatures. With proper care, this pan can last a lifetime, making it a smart investment for any kitchen.

2. Even Heat Distribution

One of the standout features of our tri-ply fry pan is the even heat distribution. Whether you’re searing meats, frying dosas, or sautéing vegetables, the consistent heat ensures perfect results every time. No more hot spots or uneven cooking!

3. Healthier Cooking

The non-reactive stainless steel interior allows you to cook acidic foods, such as tomatoes and tamarind, without any risk of leaching harmful chemicals. This makes our fry pan ideal for preparing the tangy and flavorful dishes typical of Andhra Pradesh cuisine.

4. Versatile Use

The Decent Cookware tri-ply fry pan is designed for versatility. Whether you’re cooking on gas, electric, or induction stoves, our fry pan performs flawlessly. It’s also oven-safe, adding flexibility to your cooking options.

5. Stylish and Elegant Design

Alongside its functionality, our tri-ply fry pan boasts a sleek and stylish design. It will not only perform like a professional kitchen tool but will also enhance the aesthetics of your kitchen.

6. Perfect for Traditional Andhra Cooking

Andhra Pradesh cuisine is known for its flavorful curries, crispy dosas, and fried snacks. Whether you’re making an aromatic Pesarattu or frying Mirapakaya Bajji, Decent Cookware’s tri-ply fry pan provides the precision and control needed to achieve the perfect texture and taste.

How to Choose the Right Size?

Decent Cookware offers tri-ply fry pans in various sizes to cater to different cooking needs. For a small family, a medium-sized pan will be perfect for everyday cooking. For larger gatherings or when cooking elaborate meals, a bigger pan will be more appropriate.

Recommended Sizes:

24 cm Fry Pan: Ideal for frying eggs, stir-frying vegetables, and light snacks.

28 cm Fry Pan: Great for larger meals like curries, fried rice, or even shallow frying fish.

Care Tips for Your Tri-Ply Fry Pan

To maintain the shine and performance of your Decent Cookware tri-ply fry pan, follow these simple care tips:

Always use wooden or silicone utensils to avoid scratching the surface.

Hand-wash the pan using mild detergent and avoid using harsh scrubbers.

Dry the pan thoroughly after washing to prevent water spots and stains.

Where to Buy the Best Tri-Ply Fry Pan in Andhra Pradesh?

If you’re looking to buy the best tri-ply fry pan, Decent Cookware is your go-to brand. Our products are available both online and in-store, making it convenient for customers across the state to get their hands on top-quality cookware. Visit our website or your nearest kitchenware store to explore our full range of products.

Decent Cookware takes pride in offering premium cookware that caters to the unique culinary needs of home chefs in Andhra Pradesh. Whether you’re a beginner or a seasoned cook, our tri-ply fry pan will elevate your cooking experience with its durability, functionality, and style.

Don’t settle for less when it comes to your kitchen. Choose the best tri-ply fry pan in Andhra Pradesh from Decent Cookware and bring out the best flavors in your meals today!

[superbrownkevin]

Factors That Defines The Functionality Of Commercial Cooktops

Commercial cooktops mostly produce electromagnetic reactions between the cooking area and the pot. This means that the cooktops use magnetic reactions to provide heat that helps you to cook. Unlike electric cooktops that heat the cooking zones before the heat is transferred to your pot, the commercial cooktops generate heat with the pot, making cooking fast, energy-efficient, and safe.

These cooktops are available in a wide variety of styles, sizes, and features, and to get the best, you need to make the right decisions. However, even before you make your purchase, there are essential things you need to know about cooktops so that you can decide whether they are worth buying.

The Cooktops Are Incredibly Fast And Precise.

The commercial cooktops bring the water to a boil much quicker than a gas machine does. They are also handy when preparing dishes that require consistent temperatures. When you get a unit, you will enjoy cooking that is energy-efficient, healthy, and quick.

They Need Special Pans and Pots.

You will also need to get induction cookware when you buy a duck oven or any other cooktop. Flat-based stainless steel or cast iron cooking utensils are what you need to enjoy the convenience of cooking with these cooking utensils. You can use a refrigerator magnet to test whether the pots and pans that you have are compatible with the cooktops if the magnets stick to the bottom of your pans and pots, you can use them on the cooktop.

They Can Be Expensive

Despite several new models now available on the market, prices have come down remarkably. However, since the models are still different in many ways, you will always find the cooktops a little more expensive than the electric and duck oven versions. However, a little research on cooktops can still offer you an inexpensive one that is still high in quality. Always look at the design features such as the number of burners, automatic pan size recognition, timers, and automatic safety shutdowns because they are some of the features that can affect the price. The cooktop size often determines the price, so weigh your options to get the most efficient cooktop you can afford.

They Require Professional Installation

This might not be that difficult if you are installing an electric stove, but if it is an entirely new project, it is better to let an experienced electrician do the project. Like any other appliance, quality installation is essential in functionality, making it very important to get help, especially if you are only familiar with the induction cooktop option.

They Are Much Safer

If you have kids around the house, you would have very little to worry about. As long as there is no pot on the cooktop, there is no heat to mitigate accidents in your house. Nevertheless, to avoid kids from messing with the controls on the machine, some of them also come with child lock features to keep you in charge of your machine.

Commercial cooktops have become very popular, and you will find a range of models on the market. You will be able to get the best cooktop by making all the essential considerations.