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delaber · 2 years ago

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A Date (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: you have a date and Bucky’s not exactly happy about it.

Words: 3.8K

Trope: friends to lovers 💞 with a jealous Bucky trying his best to be brave, and failing horribly.

Notes: another fluff piece to mend Bucky’s heart ❤️ honestly, I have a problem with all these fluffy fics I’ve been writing recently. I just cannot stop myself lol.

"You have a date?" he manages to splutter just before the panic takes over and makes his heart skip a few beats.

Fuck!

A fucking date?!

His fingers are slipping on the wet handle of the pan he's in the midst of cleaning, and in that moment, all he can think about is how happy he is that he's currently bent over the kitchen sink so you can't make out the shocked expression on his face.

You're nodding beside him, playing with the dishtowel you're holding but Bucky can hardly make out what you're saying when you return his question with a quiet "yeah".

His ears are ringing bells and he just wants to get the fuck out of there.

Silently, he's begging for you to stop talking. He doesn't want to know more. Doesn't want to hear what you've agreed to and who you're... - fuck, what if it's someone he knows?

What if it's Sam?!

Shit!

The panic in Bucky's chest runs amok! If he walks in on his two best friends fucking, he's gonna kill himself!

With dread, he realises that he has to know how careful he needs to be around the compound...

"With - uh - with whom?" he clears his throat and curls his toes in prepared mortification, his narrowed gaze firmly fixed on a wet piece of broccoli that's lying lonely and sad at the bottom of the sink.

Please don't say Sam, please don't say Sam...

"You know the cute guy from the coffee shop?" you answer proudly, and it makes Bucky's heart spring violently back to life. That guy??? "- he finally asked me."

Well, it's not Sam - yet somehow, it's worse.

Deep breath, he tells himself and plasters on a neutral expression as he looks up from the pan and directly into your eyes.

At least you look excited, he concludes as he takes in your dreamy little smile that's usually reserved for when vibranium fingers briefly brush over your warm skin but that he now has to share with... him. The moron in the green apron. Mr I'm-too-busy-flirting-with-your-girl-to-get-your-order-right.

Fuck, he's burning up!

"That's great, sweetheart," he hears himself croak from far away, trying his best to sound like he's happy for you and not as if his heart is in the process of being ripped out of his chest. "I'm real happy for you."

"Thanks, Buck," you playfully bump your hip against his while looking down at your hands as you once again twist the towel between your fingers.

You seem almost... nervous. This date must really be a big deal to you.

He gulps and pushes away another incoming wave of nausea. It's not as if he hasn't long ago accepted that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. You're friends. That's it.

"Are you excited?" He asks without really knowing why. He doesn't want to hear your answer. To hear you verbally confirm the look you already have on your face.

Slowly you look up at him and he has to chomp down on his inner cheek to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"You know what?" you ask quietly with a tilt of your head and Bucky's heart starts racing even harder. "- I actually am."

Even you sound surprised - not that Bucky can really blame you.

"Mmh," he merely hums and pretends there's a particularly stubborn area on the dirty pan that needs his attention.

"Is that weird?" You ask.

He can feel how the sincere question in your voice laces itself around his abdomen, squeezing him tight.

Is it wrong of him to want to snap the stupid piece of teflon-coated metal in his hand in half? You're his best friend and he should just be happy you're happy.

Fuck it, he is happy! He loves you more than anything and you deserve to feel this way - he just wishes it was because of him and not someone else.

"No, sweetheart," he mumbles, trying to untie the invisible knot behind his navel as he starts scrubbing again. "Why would it be weird?"

Thankfully, you don't answer.

...

Cold droplets of water are running over your forehead and down the length of your nose, desperately trying to reduce the tension that's been resting right between your eyebrows since your conversation with Bucky last night.

Splashing your face with water is a stupid attempt to make yourself feel better - you know that - it hasn't worked the other times you've tried it and this must be the tenth attempt since you woke up this morning. The only thing that'll truly help is if Bucky would tell you what's going on.

He's been acting weird since last night, and even though you aren't sure what reaction you'd been hoping for, this definitely isn't it. You know he isn't exactly the biggest fan of the man who's taking you out for dinner later, but getting so annoyed he can barely uphold a conversation? Well, that wasn't really a scenario you'd even considered at all...

You suppose you could just tell him the truth - maybe that would make him more accepting of your choice of date - but it's not as if you can really tell him that the only reason you're going on that date to begin with is to force yourself to get over, well, him.

You've known Bucky two years now and apart from small moments here and there, nothing's happened. It's been two excruciating years full of pining and painful almosts and ifs but he clearly doesn't look at you that way and you don't want to keep putting yourself through the heartbreak. You deserve to spend your friday nights with someone who actually sees you for what you are: beautiful, smart, desirable, a woman.

And as you stand looking at yourself in the mirror, you realise that you need this date to get Bucky out of your head. Fuck if he doesn't approve of the cute guy from the coffee shop. It's none of his business who you're going out with and if he wants to be annoyed about it, then so be it.

Yet you still cannot stand the thought of him sitting by himself all night. He hasn't seemed like himself all day and you know how he can spiral over the smallest of things.

Thus, you check for Sam in the kitchen, the gym, and in the spa area in the basement of the compound, but eventually find him in the common room on the third floor, completely hypnotised as he stares at the television screen in front of him, the playstation controller grabbed tightly in his hands.

You do a quick scan around the room to confirm that it's just the two of you before you approach him. "Wilson, have you seen Bucky today?"

"Bucky? Uh - no," Sam mumbles without moving his gaze away from the animated character who's running through an abandoned city. "I assume you've already tried the dark cave he calls his room?"

"I know where he is," you sigh and flop down on the sofa next to him, stretching your legs and putting your feet in his lap. "I was just hoping that maybe you'd talked to him."

He doesn't answer apart from a few incoherent noises you're sure are for the game and not for you, so you poke at the controller with your toes to get his attention. "Sam..."

"Hey! I'm trying to save humanity from a zombie apocalypse here. Keep your stinking feet away from me," he playfully flicks the underside of your foot without sparing you a glance. "I already told you I haven't seen your siamese twin all day."

"Yeah, but do you think you could... go check on him maybe?"

"I'm busy. You go check on him."

"Sam..."

At the sound of your soft-spoken words, Sam sends you a brief side-eye before he finally tosses the controller down on the sofa table with a loud sigh. "What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you shake your head innocently. Is it really your fault that Bucky is too childish to accept the man you're going out with? No.

Sam runs his eyes over you and squints hard. "You guys are usually so dependent, you're practically joined at the hip. And now you want me to go talk to him even though you didn't do anything?"

"Look, he's being weird," you sigh, "- can you just check on him? Please? Maybe have a guy's night in with beer and that stupid zombie-game you're always playing or whatever?" you gesture to the television screen where the character from before stands panting, saying random stuff every few seconds. "I don't want him to be alone."

"First of all, The Last of Us is not stupid!" Sam raises his index finger at you, feigning an insulted huff. "Secondly; a guy's night in..? While you're doing exactly what if I may ask?" he arches an eyebrow, urging you to keep talking.

"I - uh - I have plans," you say quickly and try and look determined although you can feel your entire face heating up. "...a date of sorts."

The dead-panned look on Sam's face is quickly wiped off, instead replaced with an annoyingly broad smirk. "You have a what now?" he chuckles teasingly.

"You heard me," you roll your eyes.

"Oh I heard you loud and clear," he hoots, "you are going on a date!" he says, emphasising the last word with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

"Don't be a dick about it."

"My, oh my. We're finally gonna see what kind of man that can sweep the rug from underneath you."

"Okay, I'm leaving," you make a move to stand up, but Sam interrupts you by putting his palm to your shin.

"Come on, I'm just teasing," he laughs, "tell me about your date. Who's it with? - Not Bucky, I assume."

"Why would I go on a date with Buck?" you shrug nonchalantly although you can once again feel the heat radiating through your every feature. "It's the cute blonde from the coffee house down the street."

"Oooh, the guy who looks like a young Brad Pitt but with humour?"

"That's the one," you press down on your lips and avoid looking directly at Sam. God, this is embarrassing.

"He's a cutie!" Sam teases with a chuckle.

"I know," you play with a loose thread on your shirt, avoiding his eye.

"Then why aren't you more excited about it?" He asks but immediately emits a groan, "Jesus... do not tell me it's because of Bucky?!"

"I'm worried about him," you whine and bury your face in the sofa cushions.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You're going on your first date in forever and you're worried about that sourpuss?"

"Sam, you didn't see the look on his face when I told him about it! He hates the guy - I think it really upset him."

"Of course it upset him," Sam scoffs, "It's like taking candy away from someone who really wants to fuck said candy!"

Your eyes snap over to Sam in an instance. Completely taken off guard, your voice dies in your throat. Did he just...? No, surely, you must've misheard.

"Come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed," Sam groans, "I swear to god, he's two days away from crawling behind you just so he can lick the ground you're walking on!"

The earth has stopped spinning. "W-what?"

"The puppy eyes? The 'pick me' behaviour?" he rolls his eyes at your shocked face.

Your heart starts pounding so fast you can barely keep up. "Are we talking about... Bucky? As in our Bucky?"

"Uh, huh," Sam nods as if it's the most obvious thing on the planet. "That guy's practically begging you to take him by the hand and lead him to your bed. He's so in love with you, it's disgusting to look at."

"He's what?!" You exclaim loudly, completely out of breath. This is definitely news to you! "No, no, no! Bucky's not in love with me, we're friends," you pant with the blood rushing past your ears.

Sam shoots you an unimpressed side-eye, "yeah keep telling yourself that"

"What do you mean?" you pant, trying to puzzle together Sam's suspicion with your disbelief.

"I swear to god, the two of you don't even have a single brain cell put together..." he rolls his eyes, "I've seen that boy almost snap his neck because you were laughing and he wanted to know what you were laughing at. Trust me when I say that he's not annoyed that you're going on that date - he's jealous."

Well... fuck!

...

You don't think you've ever been this nervous as you pace the hallway outside Bucky's bedroom. You've been here ten minutes now, desperately trying to force yourself to actually make contact with him, but you're holding yourself back. There's so much on the line and what if Sam's incorrect? Then, you will truly have mucked up and everything between you and Bucky will be ruined.

Shit!

You stop pacing. You can hear his favourite album from the forties playing on the other side of the wall but apart from that, there hasn't been a single sound from in there.

You pray he's in a better mood than when you walked in on him angrily hunched over his bowl of cereal this morning, but the fact that he put on the only type of music that can calm him down, doesn't really scream 'put-together'.

It makes you even more nervous though you know you have to talk to him at some point. It's not as if you can avoid him forever - so before you can truly think about the upside of postponing the inevitable conversation, you raise your knuckles and carefully knock on his door.

Everything inside you tenses up. You vision becomes blurry, and you seem to automatically focus all your attention on the sounds coming from inside his room. There's a short shuffle, a sigh and then an irritated "what?!" muttered from somewhere behind the walls.

This is bound to go wrong.

You consider running away and pretend you've never even been near his room, but it's too late to back out now. You have to talk to him at some point, you remind yourself.

With your nerves running wild and the blood pumping through your every vein, artery, and fibre, you open the door a little and poke your head inside his room with a small "hi," your throat so dry it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He's sitting on the bed with his long legs crossed at the ankles, his hand buried inside a book that's lying closed in his lap. He looks angry at everything and everyone - as if he's minutes away from strangling someone - but when he finds your eyes from across the room, the tense muscles in his cheeks seem to unclench a little.

"Oh, hey," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment, licking his lips. "I thought you were Sam..."

You smile, so relieved to see him softening that you automatically step inside his room without waiting for him to ask you to. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You're not," he shakes his head with a small gulp, "I thought you'd left already. Don't you have that big date?" he asks in a weird voice and sends you a stiff smile.

"Not until seven," you shrug and sit down next to him on his bed, immediately noticing how he's started avoiding your gaze.

"Right," he nods and occupies himself by putting his book on his bedside table. "So - uh - still looking forward to it?"

How do you tell your best friend that no, you're not looking forward to it because he's the one you really want to go out with?

"I don't know," you shrug, suddenly so anxious your temples have started pounding, "not really."

He finally looks up at you again, his slate blue eyes jittery as they meticulously search your face. "What happened?" He asks with tightly knitted eyebrows, "you were so excited for it yesterday."

You hesitate. "...Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly," he sits up a little straighter, a serious look on his face, "- he didn't upset you, did he?" He says on impulse, his voice suddenly dark and dripping with venom at the mere thought as he reaches out for you and puts his fingers on your arm.

"No Buck," you shake your head and take a deep breath to get your pulse under control. "He didn't upset me."

"Then what?" He squeezes your arm softly, his eyes concerned as he tries to read you, "you can tell me anything."

"I know... It's just that..." you hesitate and consider ending your sentence with I'm in love with you, but the words die in your throat.

"What sweetheart?" he shuffles a little closer to you.

"Bucky," you heave a big breath of air to prepare your bold question that can potentially change everything between you dependant on his answer. "Do you not want me to go on that date?"

"What?" his eyes immediate travel over your face and you can almost hear his pulse running haywire as his fingers let go of your arm. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just..." your breathing picks up as you scan his every anxious feature. It makes you anxious too. "- you started acting weird the minute I told you about it. You've been avoiding me all day."

His fingers find your arm again, his grip a little tighter than before as he desperately looks at you. "No, no, no, sweetheart! That's not what happened," he licks his lips and plasters on the fake smile he's been practising in the mirror all day. "- I mean... I'm not the biggest fan of the guy but who you're dating is really none of my concern. I'm sure he's great, and as long as he treats you well, I'll make sure he stays on my good side," he says softy and sends you a smile that seems a little too genuine for your liking.

You hesitate again as you check his face for cracks, but his smile stays intact and happy. "...So you're really okay with it?" you ask in a small voice, mortified.

"Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, of course I'm okay with it!" he slides his fingers down your arm, capturing your hand inside his fist. "I really just want you to be happy. That's what's important. And you deserve to be taken care of for once instead of being stuck here with me and Sam." He reassuringly squeezes your fingers tight, but it just feels as if he's in the process of letting you go.

Slowly, you can feel your heart breaking.

You knew it... You knew Sam was wrong. Bucky isn't in love with you. Never has been. Never will be. Things are exactly the way they've always been and you're left pining after a man who doesn't want you back.

God, you feel like a idiot for getting your hopes up like that.

"Good," you nod resolutely, fighting hard to not let the heartbreak slip through your well-feigned mask. "I'm happy to hear you feel that way."

"Of course I do," he smiles solemnly.

"I should probably go get ready then..."

"Yeah," Bucky nods and lets go of you. "It's almost six."

With a sigh you hope he doesn't hear, you stand up from his bed and brush down the front of your jeans, not really sure you even want to leave his room.

He's looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Have fun," he says while his hands grab the sheets underneath him, fisting the fabric. "- can't wait to hear all about it."

"Thanks, Buck," you feign a smile to match his, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, sweetheart..."

You turn around with a wave of your hand, but the smile on your face falters the minute you've turned on your heel.

You can hear his heavy breathing over the music playing in the corner, and when you reach out for the door handle, a delicate sound finally breaks the reticence between you.

"Don't go..."

At first, you're not sure if you're imagining it, but then you hear him shuffling behind you, and when you turn around and face him, he's on his feet. "Don't go on that date," he whimpers in defeat, "I'm begging you. Please... don't go."

"Bucky..."

"I'm in love with you," he says guiltily with a gulp.

Your heart stops.

"- and I can't pretend I'm okay with you going on dates when I'm not."

You're completely speechless. You want to comment on everything. Run to him and proclaim that you're his. That you've always been his. But you're nailed to the spot and all that manages to escape your lips is a tight whimper.

"- I know it's probably not what you want to hear right now..." he closes his eyes and looks as if he's in pain. "And I know I'm risking everything by telling you this," he gulps, "but I've been keeping it in for so fucking long, trying to protect our friendship. I just can't keep pretending I don't want... more. It's stupid, I know."

"Bucky, it's not stupid," you finally manage to croak and it's as if the force that've been gluing you to the spot finally lets go. "It's not," you whisper as you take a few long strides over to him, stopping right before your chests touch. "It's not stupid," you repeat and reach a hand upwards, caressing his bearded chin.

His eyes are glistening, and his breathing is coming in ragged as he searches your face. "Sweetheart," he gulps in confusion, "I don't... - what does this mean?"

"It means -" your hand reaches up so it can rake through his hair, coming to a halt on the back of his neck where you can feel the goosebumps travel through his entire body. "- that I'm in love with you too. Have been for quite some time. Since I met you, actually."

Now it's his turn to be glued to the spot.

His mouth falls a little open and you can tell by the look on his face that he's in the process of questioning everything, so you underline your confession by putting your forehead to his. "I want to be yours," you whisper and observe him closely.

At first, he tenses even harder, but then a small smile starts tugging on his lips as he finally relaxes in your arms and pulls you closer. "I want you to be mine, too," he declares sweetly as his heart blossoms in his chest. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

"It's you," he whispers against your skin, "- It's always been you."

"Kiss me," you beam and almost cannot stop smiling silly when you reach up for his mouth, finally claiming the softest, most pillowy lips you've ever had the pleasure of kissing.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers #bucky barnes jealous

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catilinas · 3 months ago

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please tell us your opinion on the movie gladiator (2000)

my opinion on gladiator (2000) is very informed by a) we are birthday twins. yay. b) it is my highschool latin teacher’s favourite film so i have watched it like. a ridiculous number of times. very enthusiastically. anyway it’s good but it’s also bad but it’s also good yknow. it’s bad for generic historical fiction film crimes BUT it also gets a pass for those crimes because THERE WAS A DREAM THAT WAS ROME BABEY. it is not about actual ancient rome it is about the dream of rome. it is about OUR dream of rome more than anything else. not teflon coated baseballs through time etc. this makes it good. but also some senator (gracchus? you invoke my best friend tiberius gracchus???) at one point is like ‘rome WAS founded as a republic’ and it does NOT get a pass for this in particular. tacitus annales line ONE: the city of rome from the beginning was ruled by kings. wgat are you TALKING about. i’m a hater until i remember there was a dream that was rome you could only whisper it anything more than a whisper and it would vanish it was so fragile. the closer you look at gladiator’s dream of rome the closer it comes to vanishing. and also spartacus and martial’s liber spectaculorum are there. big fan of the pattern of doubled duels / the whole mimesis situation also but we know this. the soundtrack fucks. THERE WAS A DREAM THAT WAS ROME BTW. and you are in elysium. and you’re already dead. THIS TOO IS AENEID BOOK 6. me when i try to learn my roman history in the future tense. anyway gladiator (2000). you could say i like it. going to see gladiator ii on saturday :-)

#beeps

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april-is · 10 months ago

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April 7, 2024: The First Line is the Deepest, Kim Addonizio

The First Line is the Deepest Kim Addonizio

I have been one acquainted with the spatula, the slotted, scuffed, Teflon-coated spatula

that lifts a solitary hamburger from pan to plate, acquainted with the vibrator known as the Pocket Rocket

and the dildo that goes by Tex, and I have gone out, a drunken bitch,

in order to ruin what love I was given,

and also I have measured out my life in little pills—Zoloft,

Restoril, Celexa, Xanax.

I have. For I am a poet. And it is my job, my duty to know wherein lies the beauty

of this degraded body, or maybe

it's the degradation in the beautiful body, the ugly me

groping back to my desk to piss on perfection, to lay my kiss

of mortal confusion upon the mouth of infinite wisdom.

My kiss says razors and pain, my kiss says America is charged with the madness

of God. Sundays, too, the soldiers get up early, and put on their fatigues in the blue-

black day. Black milk. Black gold. Texas tea. Into the valley of Halliburton rides the infantry—

Why does one month have to be the cruelest, can't they all be equally cruel? I have seen the best

gamers of your generation, joysticking their M1 tanks through the sewage-filled streets. Whose

world this is I think I know.

Poetry nerd extra credit: How many repurposed bits from famous poems can you find? I count 7 and I'm probably missing some!

Also by Kim Addonizio:

+ For Desire + Mermaid Song* + Onset + My Heart

* (Weird fact: this is about her daughter, Aya Cash, who starred in the sitcom You're the Worst. What!)

Today in:

2023: Insha’Allah, Danusha Laméris 2022: To the Woman Crying Uncontrollably in the Next Stall, Kim Addonizio 2021: You Mean You Don’t Weep at the Nail Salon?, Elizabeth Acevedo 2020: Let Me Begin Again, Philip Levine 2019: Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi 2018: Siren Song, Margaret Atwood 2017: A Sunset, Ari Banias 2016: Coming, Philip Larkin 2015: The Taxi, Amy Lowell 2014: Winter Sunrise Outside a Café Near Butte, Montana, Joe Hutchison 2013: The Last Night in Mithymna, Linda Gregg 2012: America [Try saying wren], Joseph Lease 2011: Boston, Aaron Smith 2010: How Simile Works, Albert Goldbarth 2009: Crossing Over, William Meredith 2008: The World Wakes Up, Andrew Michael Roberts 2007: Hour, Christian Hawkey 2006: For the Anniversary of My Death, W.S. Merwin 2005: The Last Poem About the Snow Queen, Sandra M. Gilbert

#war #modern life #america #anxiety and depression #kim addonizio

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tillneverlovedivanuntilhewasshot · 9 months ago

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whats your opinion on deuce surely it can't be that bad

What I think about deuce? well he...

Deuce Spade. You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.

You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on.

This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half-baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You're an idiot. A moron of the highest order. You're so stupid it's a wonder and a pity you can remember to breath. Intelligent ideas bounce off your head as if it were coated with teflon. Creative thoughts take alternate transportation in order to avoid even being in the same state as you. If you had an original thought it would die of loneliness before the hour was out. On an intelligence scale of 1 to 10 (10 corresponding to the highest attainable IQ) you're rating is so far into negative numbers that one would need to travel into another quantum reality in order to even catch a distant glimpse of it.

Your personality is that of a rabid Chihuahua intent on destroying its own tail. Your powers of observation are akin to those of the bird that keeps slamming into the picture window trying to get that other bird it keeps seeing. You are walking, talking proof that you don't have to be sentient to survive, and that Barnum was thinking of you when he uttered his immortal phrase regarding the birth of a sucker. You are, at varying times, tedious, boring, and even occasionally earth shatteringly hilarious in your idiocy, routinely childish, moronic, pathetic, wretched, disgusting and pitiful.

You are wholly without any redeeming social grace or value. If God ever decides to give the planet an enema you'd better run like the wind because anywhere you stand is a suitable place for The Insertion. There is no animal so disgusting, so vile that it deserves comparison to you, for even the lowest, dirtiest, most parasitic member of the animal kingdom fills an ecological niche. You fill no niche. To call you a parasite would be injurious and defamatory to the thousands of honest parasitic species. You are worse than vermin, for vermin do not pretend to be what it is not. You are truly human garbage. You are a fraudulent, lying, predatory charlatan. You are of less worth than a burnt-out light bulb. You will forever live in shame.

You have nothing to say, and Godwin's Law does not apply when writing about you. You are the anti-Midas, for all that you touch becomes valueless and unusable. Mothers gather their children close when you appear. You are an aberration, a corruption, and a boil that needs to be lanced. You are a poison in need of being vomited. You are a tooth so rotten it infects the whole body. You are sperm that should have been captured in a condom and flushed down a toilet.

I don't like you. I don't like anybody who has as little respect for others as you do. Go away, you swine. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. Meaningful to no one, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts that sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I wretch at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, and the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. On a good day you're a halfwit. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, study, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libellous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystrophic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, abrasive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, and socially-retarded.

Shut up and go away lest you achieve the physical retribution your behaviour merits, deuce spade. I hate snuggling. And I despise said hunger games.

There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The hunger games were the end of me. My reputation, my moon die, everything was taken away from me the moment you approached me. I was hated by all, forced to go away for a month. Why did you snuggle that day? my life is ruined because of your snuggling, man. I cant believe I wasted my time and precious hours on this response. Just go away, Deuce Spade.

tldr; he's quite the devious fella😂🤣😶‍🌫️

#moon die #COMEATMEAMAI

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iomadachd · 2 months ago

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@ifyoucatchacriminal asked: 13 from Leila to Peregrine

In honor of SPOTIFY WRAPPED, send me a number 1-100 and I’ll write you a starter based on the song. (accepting)

Nowhere To Go - Bad Omens

It's a rarity for Leila to not hide the darkness that always consumes her mind. A lifetime of doing her best to appear as though nothing bothers her, and being the good time girl. It all rolls off her back, and she presents a teflon coated woman in love with the world and without a care in the world.

For the most part, it's true. Not today, though. Today, she's struggling, and hiding from the world both metaphorically and literally through a combination of drugs and her girlfriend's apartment. Not her finest moment being high in an FBI agent's kitchen.

She looks up when Peregrine walks in, eyes red-rimmed and visibly exhausted.

"I feel my focus fading away... I had high hopes running from the man that I used to be, but I'm too slow."

#answered asks #ifyoucatchacriminal #c: leila sullivan #v: down the throat of an alleluia #thread

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iamthepulta · 11 months ago

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I feel like being on Twitter or Tiktok or Insta would put me in an early grave. I just want to post about OCs and metallurgy and fandom. Even if I were The Geology Person over there, which would be fun, I'd probably have to Be More Cognizant of cultural stuff... I already feel bad enough for not reblogging a lot of important things that cross my dash... Idk... Tumblr is my place to escape from a lot of that. I like being aware, but I don't want to scroll back on my blog and be reminded.

(random metallurgy rant under the cut)

I want to remember shit like- omg, teflon is the coolest fucking thing. It's the most hydrophobic man-made material we have, which is why it coats our pans. But BUT because it's a H-F compound and so hydrophobic it can fuck up your system by BEING that hydrophobic. Remember that our blood is basically salt water? Yeah, so hydrophobic things in water don't WANT to be in water, so they'll cling to anything else. Which is why you can get fat buildup in your arteries: fatty acids are hydrophobic compounds. If one gets stuck, you gradually build up an accumulation.

Anyway, I think we should build gaseous copper flotation cells with hydrofluoric acid and teflon which will give us the best copper recovery in the history of the world and cause innumerable deaths and destruction.

#HF gaseous flotation cells makes me mad-scientist laugh every time. Like I actually think you COULD do it.#The insanity stupidity and hubris of it though. Anyway. I feel bad for ignoring bad things sometimes.#I also found a book called Modern Poisons which looks like a spiritual sequel to The Poisoner's Handbook. I just grabbed it at #the library. SO excited.

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stalkedbytrains · 9 months ago

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Beneath the Electric Sky

Chain One: Preload

Sequence One: Specialization

The city's atmospheric regulators were working overtime, venting steam from deep underground. The entire city was bathed in steam and fog as the city tried to deal with the never-ending climate crisis and the still active half-life fallout.

It made the building the sniper was surveilling hard to pick out, but it also hid her from view. Not that she needed a lot of help to remain undetected.

Synthia was having a hard time with the building and that was even before the winds started blowing across the Pacific strongly enough to bring in some of the radiation from overseas.

The targets she had been sent after were based in a building that was harder to get into than The Collection she was a part of. They had a small army of personnel that all had advanced combat training, what appeared to be some kind of complicated employee tracking system that hunted and killed anyone that was in the building without permission.

Then there was the suspicion of extremely illegal technology and gene splicing.

The assassin that Synthia was after was employed by these people so getting at the organization itself and whatever bullshit they did to make their assassin borderline uncatchable was in there, and it was Synthia's job to get it. She also had a score to settle with the assassin.

Synthia had tracked him down, got ahead of him, and instead of having a halfway civilized conversation he shot Synthia three times with Teflon coated rounds which would have killed her pretty quickly (but painfully) if she had been totally human.

The real problem with this stupid building and this stupid company and their stupid assassin was that they were protected by an EM field. The powerful electromagnets would fry anything with a circuit that got in without proper protection or authorization. Which meant that Synthia would die. Her systems would shutdown and she'd basically suffocate as her heart slowly gave up. She'd die trapped within her body, no matter how state-of-the-art it was.

She could attempt to drop in from above but there were no nearby buildings in which to do it quietly. Unless she dropped in from the air, and while it had been a very long time since her last HALO jump, she could probably manage it. But she couldn't rule out the chance that there was an EM field on top of the building, which could be a problem. However, such a field would only be a problem if she could hit the target of a single building from 30,000 feet up. Synthia was good, she was even extremely good, but she wasn't that good.

Of course she could just storm the building. Blow up the EM generators with a couple of smart rockets or even just break out the magnetic accelerator rifle that she is only allowed under special circumstances, but that would give her away instantly and take away any chance of recovering information or the assassin intact or mostly intact.

This was going to require an inside man, and this goddamn cult was extremely picky about who they let into their premises. That was a skill set that Synthia did not have.

Stealth, insertion, infiltration, sniping? All of those she was one of the best in the world at. But those skills wouldn't get her in there without getting noticed immediately.

She was going to have to call in a ringer.

Hopefully the bosses would let her choose the ringer, because she knew the perfect guy for the job. And he was local.

[000]

At the tiny two room headquarters that Synthia had in the city, she had spent the better part of ten minutes laying out the assault on the building and why it was such a difficult pain.

"What about a HALO jump? Get in over their defenses?" Seth asked.

Seth was nominally her partner but he acted more like a boss.

"I can't tell if there is any defenses on the roof, the weather has been absolute shit the last few days and there's no sign of it getting any better in the next few days, and I don't want to give them anymore lead time since they know we're coming. Besides HALO jumps are fine, but we're talking about hitting the courtyard of a building, which is not necessarily the easiest thing to hit when falling at terminal velocity."

Seth rubbed his beard. "Yeah, and there's no good way in?"

"Not unless you can see something. And I can't lie my way in, since they know what we look like since the fucking debacle with the cops."

He gave Synthia a hard look.

"You can't even remotely blame that fucking bullshit on me," Synthia snapped. "We have strict orders to bring in the assassin if we can and the cops came in guns blazing absolutely burning that bridge as evidenced by him shooting me three times!"

"So what do you suggest? A tactical nuke?"

Synthia didn't even feign a laugh at the jab. "We need an inside man, but, again this cult is paranoid so their members are scrutinized within an inch of their lives. We need someone else to get inside and turn off the EM field long enough for me to get inside."

"What do you suggest? There's no other Collection agents on this coast. You want to get some outside help? You?"

"I have friends."

"That you haven't gotten killed or killed yourself?"

"Io has known me for a very long time. He's a great con man, he's in this city right now, and he has the added benefit of being almost completely human. If he does get caught in the EM field, he's not gonna just die like I will. Like you would."

Seth frowned. "Fine. We don't have many other options and we need this wrapped up quickly. But if this goes sideways even a little bit, I'm torching this friend of yours."

Synthia sneered at Seth in response.

"You know where to find him?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

[010]

There was a black tie party happening at the penthouse of the extremely wealthy socialite and minor celebrity Mason Filmont. The man had a penchant for buying rare and expensive per-singularity technology, and he was both stupid and an asshole, which was Io's favorite target.

Sneaking into the party was extremely easy. It was a party, there was a certain expectation of people coming and going.

Io could have made his way into the party as just a guest, but that wouldn't have got him nearly as close to some of the tech he wanted to steal as he would have liked. So he spent the last few weeks charming his way into the inner circle of Mason.

It was tiring to be sure, and the sex wasn't good either which was a criminal crime, but it was all about to pay off.

"You know I'm worried about all of these gang killings."

A snippet of party conversation caught Io totally off guard. He couldn't quite place it, but there was a familiarity with the voice that spoke. He whipped around and saw a tall but almost tragically slim redheaded woman in an ill fitting black dress.

She saw him turned and raised her glass of champagne at him.

There was something so familiar about the stance, about the hungry and tired look that told him that this woman hadn't slept properly in a long time but the sharp blue eyes told him that he was being hunted by an apex predator.

Io stopped in his tracks and turned to face the woman and the person she was talking to.

"Hey there River," Io said, slipping his hand across the waist of the person he was actively scamming. "Who are you talking to?"

The woman smiled a smile, that put Io very ill at ease. That smile said that she had pulled on over on him.

"Name's Synthia," she said as she held out a hand to shake Io's.

The grip was almost crushing, but it didn't seem to be a deliberate power move, and was instead something that came from her unnatural strength.

"Synthia, pleasure. I'm-"

"Io. I know. We've met before."

"Oh, you two know each other?" River said with a bemused look.

"Oh yes," Synthia said. "But I'd be surprised if Io remembers me. We haven't seen each other in years."

Io's stomach dropped out as she said that. It was the voice, the hair, and the eyes that did it. Nothing else was the same.

"Synthia. Yeah. I haven't seen you in a real long time. Last time I saw you was when you were looking for a particular gun."

Synthia rolled her eyes. "I mean, yes, but we've communicated since then. You helped me find some people. Shame what happened to them."

"You-" Io started but Synthia shook her head just a little bit, a fraction of a movement. "Yes. You're right, how silly of me to forget. How have you been?"

"Lots of changes," she said, indicating to herself. "Lots. But I'm doing well. Some aspects could be better. The job is something of a pain."

"You still in the military?" Io asked.

River had gotten bored by this point and kissed Io. "I'm going to go back to the party, you two have fun."

Once he was gone, Io dropped the smile.

"What the fuck?" he whispered.

"New job," she explained. "Like top secret shit, so careful what you say and what you ask. They're listening."

"And so you thought you'd just drop in on your old friend Io for shits and giggles?"

"I mean, I've been keeping tabs. You seem to be doing good."

"I'm alive," he said. "I thought you were dead, or gone, spirited away to some black site prison."

"You're not half wrong there."

"Fucking hell," Io said, cutting himself off from saying the name he remembered Synthia using. "What's up? Why are you coming back to me now? Am I fucked? Am I being black-bagged?"

"No," Synthia said. "I'm just in a severe problem right now and need a favor."

"Of course, why didn't that occur to me sooner. I'm on a job, a very delicate one, and I'm really close to closing it."

"You're going to what? Steal Mason's cybertruck? That ugly fucking thing?"

"Yes, but that's not the goal. I was going to use it as a getaway vehicle for a bit. I mean it's a legendarily bad truck, and Mason has a fully restored 2025 model. I want to drive it so bad. But I was going to steal some stuff, a couple of art pieces to sell, and some old videogame stuff for myself. Then drive out in the truck."

Synthia nodded. "I'm impressed. A step up from the shit you pulled back in the day."

"You're being weirdly coy."

"They don't know a lot about me before I joined the military, and I aim to keep it that way."

"Then you contacting me is..."

"Very serious."

"What's up?"

"You know those murders everyone is concerned with?" Synthia asked.

"Yeah, some dude is killing gang leaders."

"And about a hundred other people. Ranging from war criminals to CEO's and randomly some random dude in an apartment complex."

Io took a deep breath. "That's a lot of dead people. You know I'm not a fan of that."

"Well the problem is that it is one dude."

"Hasn't this only been going on for like a week? He's killed more than a hundred people in less than a week?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck. How do you think I can possibly help you?"

"This guy has some illegal tech I'm going to rip out of him. And he shot me three times and tried to kill me."

Io hung his head, resting it on the metal railing of the nearby stairs. He knew what that meant. Synthia, whatever she was calling herself now, would never let that stand.

"The thing is I know where his headquarters is, and the cult that is supporting him."

"There's a cult too?" Io whined.

"Yeah."

"Motherfucker."

"It's more religious fanaticism and shit and not like the people sacrificing kind."

"I'm really dreading when you get to the point where you ask me to do something."

"I just need you to open the door."

Io looked at Synthia incredulously. She really was almost entirely different. The person that Io knew from twenty odd years back was still in there, and this conversation, brief as it had been, they really were the same person.

"The entire area is surrounded by EM fields and guards and turrets and extreme paranoia of the religious fanatics. They know me because their assassin failed to kill me, so I can't get in. I can't even get close or I'm gonna die."

Io shuddered. "You really went down that route?"

Synthia shrugged. "Yeah, it gave me the body I always wanted. Cost me a lot in other ways. But still worth it."

"I love tech, just having it be inside me grosses me out."

"The other reason I'm here. You won't instantly die if you screw up like I will."

"How badly does this need to be done tonight?" Io asked as he looked longingly at the rich person's very easily stolen things.

"Badly. We've got a very small window to strike before they realize we're on to them and move and if they move we're never getting to the assassin."

"Why not?" Io complained, even know Synthia knew he was coming with her.

"I'm fairly certain the assassin can teleport. So this is our one and only opportunity."

"Fuck me," Io said. "Let's go, but I hope you can at least pay me for this."

"The company has deep pockets."

"Goddamnit," Io moaned as they went to leave the party. "Don't tell me I'm actually doing work for The Company Company."

"The CIA? Those fucks? Oh hell no."

Io heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck. They are really the worst."

"Yeah and they've put out hits on me like three times," Synthia said as she led Io to the car she had waiting out front.

As they climbed into the car Io turned to Synthia and said, "So I have two questions for you."

"Shoot."

"Pronouns?"

"She and her," Synthia replied instantly.

"Good, good," Io said. "Honestly I've never cared much for the whole pronoun game so whatever works for you works for me. But it might just save time to use he and him for me."

Synthia pulled away from the party with dangerous speed. "Sounds just like you. What's the other question?"

"Lorelei know you're alive?"

Synthia swore. "No."

buy me a kofi

#writeblr #original fiction #my fiction #beneath the electric sky #finally trying to get synthia's story down and done #i cut sixty pages of this story and i'm currently gutting it and salvaging it for parts #no parts are going to survive for very long

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niyalight-123 · 1 year ago

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"The Essential Guide to Cookware: Choosing the Right Pots and Pans for Your Kitchen"

Introduction: Cookware is the unsung hero of every kitchen, silently contributing to the delicious meals we enjoy daily. Whether you're an amateur home cook or a seasoned chef, having the right cookware can make a world of difference in your culinary adventures. In this blog, we'll explore the various types of cookware, their materials, and how to choose the best pots and pans for your cooking needs.

The Fundamentals of Cookware :Before delving into the specifics, let's cover the basics. Cookware is typically categorized into two main types: pots and pans. Pots are deep vessels with high sides, while pans have flat bottoms and low sides. Each serves its unique purpose, from simmering soups in a pot to searing steaks in a pan.

Cookware is an essential part of any kitchen, serving as the foundation for preparing delicious meals. These kitchen tools come in various shapes, sizes, and materials, each designed for specific cooking methods and recipes. Understanding the fundamentals of cookware is key to becoming a proficient cook.

Materials Matter: The material of your cookware affects how evenly it distributes heat, its durability, and its overall performance. Here are some common materials you'll encounter. Material Matter is a brand known for its innovative and sustainable cookware solutions.

They prioritize using eco-friendly materials and cutting-edge designs to create kitchen tools that enhance cooking experiences while minimizing environmental impact. From non-stick pans to versatile utensils, Material Matter aims to redefine the way we cook and care for our planet.

Stainless Steel: Known for its durability and resistance to staining, stainless steel is versatile and non-reactive. It's ideal for browning, searing, and deglazing. Stainless steel cookware is a popular choice among home chefs and professional cooks alike due to its durability, versatility, and sleek appearance.

Crafted from an alloy of iron, chromium, and other metals, stainless steel cookware is resistant to rust and staining, making it a long-lasting kitchen staple. Its even heat distribution and non-reactive nature with food make it ideal for a wide range of cooking techniques. In this introduction, we'll explore the benefits and versatility of stainless steel cookware, as well as its maintenance and care to ensure it remains a valuable addition to your kitchen.

Cast Iron: Cast iron cookware retains and distributes heat exceptionally well. It's perfect for slow-cooking, frying, and baking. Seasoning your cast iron adds a natural non-stick surface. Cast iron cookware is a versatile and durable kitchen essential that has been used for centuries. It's made from molten iron that's poured into molds, creating pots, pans, and skillets known for their exceptional heat retention and even heating.

These qualities make cast iron cookware a favorite among professional chefs and home cooks alike. Whether you're searing, frying, baking, or even grilling, cast iron can handle it all. With proper care, it can last a lifetime and develop a natural non-stick surface known as seasoning. Let me know if you'd like to learn more about how to use and maintain cast iron cookware or have specific questions!

Non-Stick: Non-stick cookware has a coating that prevents food from sticking, making it easy to clean. However, it may require gentle care to avoid scratching the surface. Non-stick cookware has revolutionized the way we cook by making food preparation easier and more convenient. These kitchen essentials are typically coated with a non-stick surface, often made from materials like PTFE (Teflon) or ceramic, which prevents food from sticking to the pan.

This innovation has reduced the need for excessive oil or butter in cooking, making meals healthier and cleanup a breeze. In this conversation, I can provide you with information, tips, and recommendations related to non-stick cookware

Copper: Copper cookware offers rapid, even heating but often requires a lining of stainless steel or tin to prevent reactivity with certain foods. Copper cookware has a rich culinary history dating back centuries. Renowned for its exceptional heat conductivity, copper cookware offers precise temperature control, making it a favorite among professional chefs and cooking enthusiasts alike. In this guide, we'll explore the benefits, care, and versatility of copper cookware, helping you elevate your culinary skills and create delicious meals.

Aluminum: Lightweight and affordable, aluminum cookware heats quickly but may react with acidic foods. Anodized aluminum is a more durable and non-reactive option. Aluminium cookware is a popular choice in kitchens worldwide due to its lightweight, excellent heat conductivity, and affordability. It's commonly used for a wide range of cooking tasks, from sautéing to boiling.

However, it's important to note that uncoated aluminium cookware can react with acidic or alkaline foods, potentially affecting taste and safety. To address this, many aluminium pans have nonstick or anodized coatings. Anodized aluminium is more durable and resistant to corrosion. When choosing aluminium cookware, consider your cooking needs, maintenance preferences, and potential health concerns associated with aluminium exposure.

Choosing the Right Cookware: The cookware you select should align with your cooking style and needs. Here are some considerations. Choosing the right cookware is essential for achieving great results in the kitchen. From pots and pans to utensils and bakeware, selecting the right tools can make cooking more efficient and enjoyable.

In this guide, we'll explore the key factors to consider when choosing cookware, including material, heat conductivity, durability, and maintenance. Whether you're a seasoned chef or a beginner in the kitchen, making informed choices about your cookware will help you elevate your culinary skills and create delicious meals.

Conclusion :Investing in high-quality cookware is an investment in your culinary journey. By understanding the fundamentals of cookware materials and choosing pieces that align with your cooking style, you'll be well-equipped to create delicious meals for years to come. Remember, the right cookware is not just a tool; it's a partner in your culinary adventures. Happy cooking!

#cookware #kitchen #utensils #home & lifestyle #kitchen appliances #stainless steel #manufacturers #daily update #home cooking #main dishes #alluminum fence #stainless steel kitchen appliances #cooker

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