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cookiesuga55 · 26 days

Note

If you take requests, maybe Jungkook wants to get fatter so he asks obese Namjoon for advice? And he helps him grow even fatter than him and they’re super into each other but scared to let each other know cause they’ve been only friends for so long… >_<

Anonie I LOVE YOUR BRAIN

pls DM me so we can be friends PLS <333

~~~~~~~

Jungkook didn't even know who he could go to about his new... desire.

He looks down and nibbles on his lip. The fabric of his shirt is pulled tightly around the soft, thick swell of chub that is now his middle. A round, plump belly bulges up and out of his jeans and begs to droop down over the tight waistline. Jungkook tentatively brings his trembling hands to his tummy and gently pushes in his fingers. They sink deeply into the supple padding that's heavily rounding him out. An embarrassing sound slips out of him as he watches his belly pudge out around the deep dimples where his fingers slowly rub in. Something about the soft fluff in his hands is so addicting...

Jungkook whimpers in the safety of his room as he sits on his bed and squeezes his hands to feel the chub thickening inside of him.

He had been eating more than normal, that much he knew. It was a combination of exhaustion from work and growing cravings that led him to collapse onto his couch every night and lazily order food while he relaxed. Anything that he could get quick and easy for delivery in the city sufficed. Fried rice and sticky sweet orange chicken. So much pizza. Southern pork and creamy mashed potatoes. Butter chicken and fresh, fluffy naan bread. American burgers and fries. Crispy, delicious soondae sausages and spicy tteokbokki. Greasy Döner kebabs. Stuffed tacos and fajitas. Loaded nachos. Creamy, cheesy pasta. So many different cuisines and oversized meals fit for two every night. Jungkook had gobbled it all down. And he usually followed it with multiple scoops of ice cream while mindlessly watching television.

Now that Jungkook thinks about it. He's eaten a lot. No wonder he's gotten so fat. Jungkook was always on the thicker side, even as a kid. He teetered the line of chubby for so long, that Jungkook had long ago accepted his soft, wide body as part of who he was. But he's always been strong to balance it out. He exercises. He loves exercising! It's just... he hasn't had time, for a few months now? Has it really been that long?

Jungkook experimentally squeezes his thighs which used to be thick and meaty. They squish heavily under his hands, feeling warm and fluffy, just like his middle. He crosses his arms to assess his biceps and they're the same. Fluffy teddy bear arms.

Jungkook's cheeks heat up with something similar to embarrassment, but borderline yummy and warm. He didn't realize that all of his muscle had melted away and was slowly replaced with chub and thick, pudgy padding.

He's filled out so much. Jungkook's eyes flick back down to his belly, unable to stay away from such a pretty sight. His middle is pushed out round and soft, despite Jungkook's hunger. The bloated-looking curve of his tummy bulges into a lush pool of fat that is so, so close to settling in his lap... Jungkook leans forward an inch and all of the heft spills forwards, resting on his round thighs. Jungkook whines again and admires the warmth sitting fattened in his lap. It's so comforting. So addicting. His hands gently pet down the swell and he experimentally pinches the plump roll at the bottom, curious about how many pounds of chub are really sitting inside of his belly. It must be even more than he thinks? There's just... so much of him filling his own hands. So much soft skin. So much weight.

Fuck- Jungkook is so soft. He feels so pudgy and round and so fucking... good. Jungkook feels so good.

Jungkook's cock is already borderline fully-hard, and the fact that it's pushing up into the weighty bottom of his belly just keeps the blood flowing down and accelerating the problem.

Jungkook needs advice, and there's only one person that he could turn to. There's only one person that he knows who likes getting fat.

Jungkook needs Namjoon-hyung. He needs to tell him everything.

~~~

"Oh, Jungkookie- my sweet little Piggy~"

Jungkook blushes hard at the name. He needs to circle back to that, but Namjoon is still talking, opening up an app on his phone. Of course Namjoon was the right person to talk to about this. His hyung has been gaining on purpose for years, now approaching 400 pounds. He would know what to do. Namjoon has always been a good listener. They're sitting on the couch together, and like always, Jungkook sinks into Namjoon's huge side from his massive hyung being so heavy. Jungkook pants slightly from pouring out everything about how he feels, about how he likes the weight. Being squished into Namjoon's own bulk isn't really making it any better. Or maybe it is. Maybe it's making it a lot better...

"Let me introduce you to the gateway drug for fattening up your cute little starter-kit belly." Namjoon's big thick hand moves to rest right on the swell of Jungkook's middle and he pats him, just like Jungkook is a chubby puppy begging for scraps.

Jungkook bites down on his lip to keep himself from whining. He squeezes his thighs tightly but it does little good. His belly gives a soft, plump jiggle underneath Namjoon's paw-like hand, and the older gauges his reaction just to grin at him. "Look at you! So adorable. Trying not to cum just from a little tummy praise- You're going to be such a good fatty, Jungkookie. It's good you came to hyung. I can help you grow." Namjoon's sausage fingers pat Jungkook's belly again as he grins at him, and Jungkook whines in protest. His chubby cheeks heat up even more, threatening to catch fire as pleasure blooms in the pit of his stomach.

"Hyung!--"

The older cackles, but he leaves his fat hand resting on Jungkook's middle. He gives the pudge a little squeeze and then begins rubbing slow circles. Jungkook wants to melt- it feels so good. His chub bulges out between Namjoon's fingers when he inhales, and it dimples deeply as it's rubbed, following his touch. Another little whine escapes him as he stares down at his belly being rubbed, transfixed. Namjoon thankfully is a good hyung, and he doesn't make fun of Jungkook for his embarrassment or for being so turned on by something as simple as a belly rub.

Namjoon draws Jungkook's attention back to his phone with a smile.

"This is my favorite restaurant. My secret weapon. I swear, you'll chub right up if you start eating here-"

Jungkook reads the name out loud, and his cheeks heat up all over again. "B-Belly Busters...?"

Namjoon snorts at the waver in his voice, and he gives Jungkook's tummy a gentle smack so he jiggles again. Jungkook is sure that he's just teasing him now. "That's right. The food is so fucking heavy and fattening that it'll bust your belly. I swear by this place. Hyung promises, you'll wake up feeling all yummy and thickened up in the morning if you fill up on this stuff-"

Jungkook curiously glances at the menu on Namjoon's phone, failing horribly to ignore the heat bubbling in him at the calorie count listed next to each item. "H-hyung, this is more than I should have in a week..."

Namjoon just grins at him, clearly so fucking pleased at sharing this gem of knowledge. "Hyung will help, Kookie. Your first stuffing is on me. Pick whatever you want for dinner. What do you want to fill your cute little belly with?" Jungkook turns back to the phone, blushing down his chest underneath his shirt by how Namjoon is talking so casually about all of this. About how gaining weight is like a hobby. Namjoon's large hand is still resting on his pudgy middle and slowly rubbing, and it makes Jungkook want to whimper again.

He adds the first thing he sees to the cart, a monsterous burger and fries, dripping with grease and sauce. It honestly looks like it might make his gut swell until he pops if he eats it all. The portions are massive. Namjoon nods in approval, then adds bacon to Jungkook's order. "An extra patty for you... And you'll want to add on the onion rings. You need one of these milkshakes too! They're so fucking delicious-"

Jungkook's eyes bulge as he sees the calorie count of just his milkshake, which is apparently a necessity. "W-what's in it to make it that high?" Namjoon just shrugs and adds a banana one for Jungkook, and a vanilla one for himself.

"Does it matter? It's delicious and creamy and so fucking fattening. You're gonna love it." Jungkook's mouth waters as he looks down at himself. He imagines those thousands of calories inside of his tummy. Waking up visibly fatter sounds like a dream.

"Okay." He gulps. His belly is so hot underneath Namjoon's hand. "Okay. I'm so in, hyung. I want to try this so badly."

Namjoon pets his other hand through Jungkook's hair and all but cooes as he places their order for delivery. Jungkook receives another belly pat like he's being praised for agreeing to eat up what Namjoon is going to feed him. Fuck-

He didn't even see what Namjoon ordered for himself, but somehow the bill rose to nearly the amount that Jungkook spends on his groceries for an entire week.

"We're going to stuff you tonight until you're pinned under your gut and mewling for belly rubs, Kookie. I can't wait to see how you feel. I hope you love it so much."

Jungkook's thighs squeeze again. Namjoon smiles at him with his doubled chins bulging and his eyes twinkling as he gropes Jungkook's soft belly. It makes him feel like Namjoon is measuring how much he squishes in his hands, like he's taking note of all of the softness inside of him. Like he is gauging where Jungkook is at, so he can assess how much he grows while eating. So he can measure just how full his belly can stretch. So he has a starting point to see how much this one stuffing will affect his waistline tomorrow. So he can see how fat Jungkook gets overnight. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum tonight-" Jungkook blurts out. His mind is so full of thoughts that should be illegal. Namjoon laughs so heartily with delight that his gelatinous gut shakes.

"If you don't, I've failed."

#bts fanfic #tummy kink #chubby jungkook #HUGE namjoon #sugar cookie #<3 #namkook

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theshitpostcalligrapher · 2 days

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hiya mia for my first request can i get 'what is cheese pizza but a fucked up cheesy naan?'

(context: my brother proposed cheese pizza and tikka masala as a cursed food combo)

bluestie idk how to tell you this but curry pizzas, particularily butter chicken pizzas, are EXTREMELY common round my parts

Askbox is closed for new requests, I'm recording these old ones on the to-write document

#added to notepad

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frannyzooey · 1 year

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In The Dark: Epilogue

Pairing: Ezra x f!reader

Rating: None

A/N: We are finally at the end of this story - thank you to every single person who read it, who supported it, who sent in asks or reblogged or liked or lurked. I couldn’t have done it without you all. Dedications at the end, along with some bonus extras. Thank you all so very much - I love you, and Happy New Year!

Series Masterlist

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

“So, how is the new place going?” You rest your cheek on your knee, smiling at the immediate change in her expression on your screen. Your dorm room is behind you, warm and cozy in contrast to the starkness of her bedroom.

“It’s okay,” Cee says. “It’s still kinda weird, ya know? Living with different people?” She shrugs, resting her chin in her hand. “It’s kinda cool, since they’re my own age and sometimes we have these amazing parties and there is this girl who is moving in next week who I am totally eyeing, but also the extra chores suck? No one ever does their dishes around here.”

You nod in sympathy, having been in that situation before.

“I feel like it’s not that hard?” she continues, and you laugh.

“It’s really not. How is that new class coming?”

Rolling her eyes, she launches into detail about her writing professor and the pain of her weekly workshop group and you feel a pang of longing to experience those things with her, so you could truly commensurate. Not that you couldn’t, since you were going through those specific pains in your own program right now, but it was different then - when you were going through it together.

“Anyway, it’ll get better. I don’t wanna talk about it though.” She sits back, piling her fine blond hair on top of her head in a bun cupped by her hands for a moment, before letting it drop. “Tell me about next week. What are you doing again? How long are you off for?”

“Two weeks.” Just saying the words out loud makes you grin in relish, an eagerness for it to begin coming through in the dreamy tone of your voice. “I wanna see all the cheesy tourist spots for sure, but I am literally itching to get into some of those bookstores. And the museums, definitely those. And oh my god, the food.”

Shoreditch had all of these things and you had slowly been exploring them, but the vastness of London had been calling to you. Your workload too heavy to explore the way you’ve wanted to, you’ve been earmarking various spots for months and now that your break is finally here, you feel like you can truly tour around. And also look up from the screen of your laptop for a change - that would be nice.

You let out an aching groan of pleasure at the thought and she smiles on the screen.

“After that, I don’t know? Don’t laugh, but I kinda wanna rent a car and drive to Cornwall? Don’t ask me about navigating while driving on the other side of the road because I don’t have an answer for you, but the views are supposed to be gorgeous and……”

“Poldark,” you both say at the same time, dissolving into giggles.

“God he’s gorgeous. I mean, I know he’s not there, but I’ll be able to sense him. I just know it.”

She sips her tea on her side of the screen while you list off the rest of your itinerary: Persephone Books, for their quaint, romantic store front and unique events, Dishoom for a bacon naan roll and to feel like you’ve stepped back into time into 1940’s Bombay, The London Eye to get some pictures, but first Gloria: a restaurant by your new place that you’ve been dying to try. You just knew the pictures online wouldn’t do it justice; the opulent, busy, lush setting of rich carpets and mirror paneled walls and greenery climbing down from the ceiling like sparkling, light strung ivy at the top of your wishlist.

Eventually, your stifled yawns interrupt your spoken dreams, and she finishes her tea, stretching in her perch on her chair. She glances at the time in the corner of her screen and frowns.

“Yikes, it’s gotta be so late there for you. You better get some sleep, so you’re not exhausted in the morning..”

You mirror her stretch, nodding. “Yea, I still gotta finish packing.”

She leans closer to the screen, a look of affection stealing across her delicate features.

“Well make sure you take a bunch of pictures, okay? I wanna see everything you’re seeing. Send me the view from the Eye on Snapchat or something and if you go see those guards, take a selfie with one of them just for me.”

You laugh, assuring her that you will and when you say your goodbyes and hang up, a smile lingers on your face. Just like her to ask for something weird like that.

Standing, you close your laptop and leave it on your desk, walking over to your bed. The layout of your new place is tighter than the last; student housing always a bit cramped. You’ve never minded close quarters, liking the overall coziness it forces and resting your hand on the corner of a small bookshelf that already has a substantial collection growing on it, you crack the window, letting street sounds waft in on the night air.

Changing into your pajamas, you switch out the light while yawning yet again and checking your alarm is set, you crawl into bed. Opening your white noise app, you select “city sounds” and closing your eyes, quickly fall asleep.

–

Anticipation wakes you early, and similar to New York City, Shoreditch is alive with people already when you leave your flat. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you slip into the crowd, making your way to the tube and as you walk, you run through a mental checklist of everything you want to do today, so as to not waste one minute.

Not quite as many people on these streets as there had been in the city, the sights and sounds were so similar it was comforting: brightly scrawled murals over aged brick, trendy restaurants tucked into small store fronts, young people walking effortlessly down the sidewalk with their faces buried in their phones. Spotting the iconic circular sign that gave you a thrill when you saw it for the first time, you made your way down the damp stairwell, following the crowd to the platform. Getting on your train, you find a seat by the window and digging in your bag, you fish your earbuds and pull up a playlist, relaxing into your seat.

The steady, smooth rock of the train as it pulls away from the station comforts you, reminding you of home after all this time. The transit systems are similar, the people that ride them even more so and watching scenery pass by, you think about your first time navigating The Underground. The thought, and the events planned for this morning, bring forth other memories.

Your first night crawling into your new bed: slipping on the shirt he tucked into your bag, the longing for your apartment and all its familiar noises was a real, tangible ache in your chest. The ache for him was felt even deeper, the image of his face as he said goodbye only ten hours old and fresh in your mind at that point. A few tears slipped free into that new pillow of yours; the first of what would be many more.

Your first weeks navigating your new surroundings: testing out the transit, finding your new travel paths, exploring the restaurants within walking distance.

The nervous hesitation you felt when sharing in your new workshop for the first time, the tiny tables in new restaurants where you sat alone on your computer, your delight at the discovery of East African food.

Tea: something you never came around to. By your measure, it had nothing on coffee and for weeks, you would have killed for a latte from your favorite place, with a dash of cinnamon on the top.

All the while, you had missed him.

Your new surroundings had been seen through Ezra tinted glasses; a wash of him over everything you saw. Everything reminded you of him: the antique shop on the corner, the Persian restaurant you passed while walking to class, every bookstore or record shop or furniture gallery or men’s clothing shop or every dark haired man, your eyes searching for his confident gait everywhere.

At first, it was so intense you couldn’t hardly breathe, but with time, it lessened. Friends, routine, school, new experiences, dinners, parties. You still thought of him often, but it was no longer the crushing weight of a wave forcing you under. With each new day that passed, the waves calmed more and more; overwhelming, then bearable, then ripples that came and went.

Cee had eventually come around, writing you an email about your letter about a month after you left. When you replied, she replied back and it slowly evolved into more emails and then texts and then FaceTime, on your computer at night. She had reached out to you for writing advice, wanting your opinion on something she was going to turn in and it was like her story was an olive branch — which was fitting, for two people who first bonded over the words scribbled in her notebook.

The two of you never had a formal discussion about what happened, but rather an acknowledgment through email about the roles you each played. Understanding that sometimes it was easier to talk about difficult things through writing versus speaking them out loud, you were thankful for it. She needed time to think about it, which you gave her, and in the end, she forgave you.

Still, you never spoke directly about Ezra if you could help it.

Four months into your new surroundings, you had just walked in the door after a late night library session when your phone buzzed in your bag. Pulling it out, the sight of his name on your screen made you freeze. You can still feel the heat you felt, your heart picking up as you hesitantly tamped down the excitement that immediately rose in your chest and when you answered it, he could hear it all in your voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Birdie.”

He said those two words, letting the silence hang for a moment and you were immediately back in your apartment, the memory of when he used to call felt so strongly you shut your eyes.

He had been drunk and lonely, missing you. Trying so hard to keep his distance for your sake, he finally caved and called; his low, husky voice sleepy and quiet through the phone, but warm with affection. You talked to him for a long time: about the city, about your program, about what he had been up to. When it came time to hang up, he asked if he could call you again and when you said yes, you could hear the smile in his voice when he said goodbye.

He did call you after that, and you stayed in touch a lot. It wasn’t as intense as it was before — no phone call every night before bed, no FaceTime videos, no partially undressed photos — but rather an easy intimacy between two really good friends. Ones who knew each other inside out, and had fond memories of the time they’d shared together.

Not to say that you didn’t get yourself off to the thought of him still, after all this time.

You tried going out and meeting people, tried going home with someone a few times but after you slipped back into your clothes and made your way home, you never felt that longing to be back in their bed and in their arms the way you always felt with him. Eventually, you stopped trying and just focused on school.

The train slows and pulls into King’s Cross, and you rise from your seat, waiting your turn to alight. Stepping off, you make your way to the escalators and a sort of nervous anticipation thrums wildly through your veins, making your limbs jittery. You try to take a calming breath, checking the time on your phone - your train running a few minutes behind, you hope you’re not too late.

Finally stepping into the atrium, light floods the space. People are everywhere: gathered in clusters as they check maps in their hand with suitcases and backpacks at their feet, business people walking briskly around and between them, travelers and students and children and shop vendors; the murmur of the collective crowd a loud one. Your heart beats faster in your chest, your eyes scanning the room and they land on one person after another, trying to keep track as they move. A bright flash of yellow there, a brown mop of curls there and suddenly, you see him.

The familiar breadth of his shoulders faces you, a backpack that you’ve never seen before only serving to make him look broader. For how long it’s been since you’ve seen the nape of his neck, you’d recognize his stance anywhere and you simultaneously want to stand there for a moment and admire him from afar, while also fighting the urge to run.

Not being able to help moving automatically in his direction, when he turns and his gaze catches yours, he grins and you feel a sudden wave of emotion so strong you want to cry. He looks just the same - the unruly dark curls, the crumpled cotton t-shirt even more so from traveling, the face you know so well and that dimple. It had only just started to fade from your memory, and the sight of it makes your heart burst.

“Hey, Birdie,” he smiles when you reach him, opening his arms and you step right into them, like no time has passed.

So solid, so strong, so affirming in his touch - your hello is muffled against his shoulder as you breathe in the familiar musk of his warm skin and when you pull back, you can already see the possibilities of these next two weeks in his warm, albeit travel worn smile: his laughter in a dimly lit restaurant, the weight of his arm across your shoulders when he pulls you in for a selfie, his profile as you drive through the country, the firm slide of his skin against yours every one of those nights.

He looks like he wants to kiss you and your mouth longs for the same, but you both stand still, savoring the beat of anticipation; the crowd moving around you.

“You ready?” you ask, lacing your fingers with his.

He tightens his hold, grinning.

“Ready.”

The End

Bonus: Birdie’s Travel Pictures

I have so many people I want to thank for this story:

@mourningbirds1, first and foremost, who sat with me through every single one of these chapters and who is the world’s best and most patient teacher. You made my writing better with every single soothing message you sent, every comment you left on the document, every lesson you taught me in your kind and patient way. This story wouldn’t be nearly what it is without you, nor would I have had the courage to tackle it in the first place without your constant validation and support and I love you so very, very much. Having one of your favorite writers as a mentor is the literal dream come true, and you did that for me. <3

@krissology and @charnelhouse - without our group chat and your constant support, I wouldn’t have made it through this. You both inspire me in so many ways every single day, and you’re always there when I need to rant, vent, work out a plot line, hash out an idea, and I am so grateful to have both of you in my life. I love you <3

@highsviolets @imaswellkid @dazedrhapsody and @psychedelic-ink - thank you so so much for your constant enthusiasm and your magnificent playlists for this story. They inspired me in so many ways - a number of scenes in this story were directly inspired by your songs, dreamt of while I was working or driving, and I am forever thankful for you sharing them with me. They are beautiful, just like you all. I love you <3

To anyone that made art, to anyone that sent me a message, to anyone who was patient and kind and validating while I tried to take my time and try new things and grow - thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you all, and this community. I love you <3

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #pedro pascal

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swarm-of-polls-in-a-trench-coat · 2 months

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Btw I have many types of everything. If you choose chips, for example, I have bbq, salt and vinegar, sour cream and onion, spicy, cheddar, plain, etc.

I have garlic bread, bagels, cheesy bread, banana bread, croissants, naan, sourdough, and more

I have everything

#swarmofpolls #fun polls #polls about food

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pinkboxess · 14 days

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vent post that contains discussion of eating disorders

Sooooo I am spending time with my mom this week, and she is the type of woman with a long history of a broken relationship to food who then makes tons and tons of comments about her own eating.

Literally EVERY MEAL so far she says something about "needing to be good" or "what can [she] have that's okay for [her] diet" or "if [she] orders this [she's] being bad" or "[she] hasn't had a french fry in months and months!" or like, any other iteration of that type of comment you can imagine.

And it's so grating on me just to hear that language all the time. Even though it's not directed at me, it makes me feel shitty hearing it. And I've been eating a lot on this trip because we've been eating out and having treats as one does, and it makes it hard to do that without feeling so bad about myself just for eating bigger meals and feeling full and wanting to enjoy special food that I don't usually have.

(And then also every picture of me I hate because I just feel like I look big in all of them unless it's like a very specific angle)

Other than this issue I have been having a great vacation though!

Yummy foods I have eaten so far:

garlic naan with hummus and babybell cheese

protein pancakes

cheesy baked ziti and garlic bread!! (LOVED this)

scrambled eggs and more of the naan

a burger at In N Out which is very rare for me because i'm usually vegetarian but i'm with meat eaters so i decided to just not make a fuss about it and it was fine but i also am kinda like eeeuuuuggghhhh i ate animal meat that makes me feel icky

peanut butter m&m ice cream

cheese pizza with pineapple

But unfortunately as I said all of this was accompanied by mom's icky comments :(

#personal #vent #i have an almond mom i'm afraid

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liminalmemories21 · 10 days

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Hi Lim! Here is my very very late nice ask for you:

Since I know you love soup and it has been cold af up here, what is your favourite soup and how do you typically like eating it (like with bread or crackers or rice or whatnot)? If you also have a recipe please send 👀

I hope you have a lovely day 💜

Do I have soup recipes? Listen, if I didn't think my partner would stage a revolt we would eat soup about three times a week.

So, what I eat with soups depends a little on how much protein is in the soup - for example, a vegetable soup I'll serve with bread and a cheese plate (or some variation on grilled cheese - cheesy naan, quesadillas, etc). But, a hearty soup with meat (or beans) in it doesn't need the additional protein, so that's just served with bread. Always with bread (and salted butter) to dip in the soup, and mop the bowl at the end.

For most pureed vegetable soups I don't really have a recipe. It's a general ratio of 2lb of whatever vegetable (cauliflower, sweet potato, zucchini, pumpkin, carrot) + 1 onion sauteed in olive oil or butter + 4-5 cloves garlic + 4-6 cups liquid (water/broth/whatever). Simmer 20-30 minutes and then puree. And then you customize.

Zucchini + basil + lemon (add the lemon and basil after everything has cooked and you're at the pureeing stage)

Cauliflower + parmesan (stir in the parmesan after you've pureed - about 1/3 cup)

Carrot/Sweet Potato with ginger - saute the ginger with the onion and garlic - add in some coconut milk as your liquid

Red Pepper/Tomato - roast 3-4 red peppers and remove the skin, add in 1-2 cans diced tomatoes + some liquid (start with maybe 2 cups and add as needed). Some red pepper flakes are nice with this too.

Heartier soups that I love

Smitten Kitchen's Beef & Barley - this freezes so well, make a huge batch and then freeze it in portions and you have a really easy meal in reserve. I always add mushrooms to mine, because I love mushrooms, but I know mushrooms can be divisive.

Curried Chicken & Rice - sub some of the liquid for coconut milk (I always have the kind that's a dairy milk substitute in the cartons in my fridge, so that's what I use). Do not skimp on the herbs at the end, they make it come alive.

Creamy Chicken & Couscous

Chicken Pot Pie Soup

Colcannon Soup (I usually serve with with brown bread and cheddar)

Spaghetti-Os - you can make as much of the base soup as you like and freeze it in portions, and also make as many of the meatballs as you like and freeze them separately and then just defrost the soup and drop the frozen meatballs into it when it comes up to a boil - you'll need to cook them a little longer from frozen - the meatballs are also good in other things)

Turkey Meatball/Italian Wedding Soup - I would recommend homemade chicken stock for this if you have it, because that's the base flavor note here, so it's worth using the good stuff

#contains me #asked and answered #soup #recipes

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pizza-is-my-buziness · 7 months

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Fictober Prompt Day Fourteen! Prompt: "If you don't stop now..."

Pairing: Jill Valentine/Carlos Oliveira (Resident Evil)

Read below!

“What about this one? The Fifty-Foot Moon Woman.”

Carlos snorts out a laugh, scooping rice onto his plate and immediately smothering it with curry sauce. “Seen it.”

Even without looking at her, Carlos can easily picture the eye roll that Jill gives him, accompanied by a huff. The couch shifts as she leans back against it, drawing her knees up to her chest as she continues to flip through the different movie titles. “Of course you have,” she mutters. “You’ve seen everything.”

“It’s called being a connoisseur,” Carlos says, adding a piece of naan to his plate. “I can show you the ropes.”

Which is something Carlos thinks they’ve been doing a decent job of during their Friday night “date nights,” which include takeout from one of the many places around their apartment and watching as many B-grade horror movies they possibly can before one or both of them falls asleep thanks to the exhaustion of the week. Unfortunately, sometimes having to go off to save the world from those who would like to turn it into some sort of bioweapon wasteland interrupt the routine but for the most part they’ve managed to uphold the tradition for nearly as long as Carlos can remember, the movie nights first starting out as a way to forget about the rest of the world for an hour or two and laugh about the cheap special effects and manufactured danger. Now the hours he knows will be solely dedicated to takeout and time spent with Jill by his side are truly what get him through most weeks.

Jill ignores his comment, brow furrowing as she continues to scroll through their choices. “Radioactive Muskrats from Mars.”

Carlos hopes whoever had been in charge of naming these masterpieces fifty years before had gotten a raise. “Seen it.”

Jill looks at him, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve actually seen…” Then she stops, shaking her head. “Of course. Why would I think any differently,” she grumbles, returning her attention to the TV.

“How can you see a movie with a title like that and not watch it?” Certainly when he’d been a kid and stumbled upon that movie with his brothers they hadn’t been able to look away, as enraptured by the giant murderous muskrats as they were by every cheesy, terrible black-and-white flick that played in the wee hours of the night.

After a few beats of silence, Jill suggests, “What about Killer Cat People?”

Okay, yeah, he’s seen it, but when Carlos responds, he decides to keep that little fact to himself. “Suena bien. Fire it up, Supercop.”

Satisfied, Jill clicks on the title, leaning forward to grab her own plate of food before settling back once more on the couch. Her shoulder brushes against his, the heat of her body immediately settling over Carlos in a way that eases the tension his muscles seem to always carry, leaving him feeling more relaxed than he has since he’d woken up that morning to the sensation of Jill easing herself out of bed at the sound of the rudely blaring alarm. The movie starts, dramatic orchestral music filling the living room right before a grave narrator intones about the dangers of mixing science and…cats apparently. Honestly, Carlos stopped expecting for the movies to make any sort of sense long, long ago.

It only takes about ten minutes before Jill frowns, brow furrowing into a deep V as she studies the screen. “So wait…they were trying to make some sort of super spy by mixing cat and people DNA and they didn’t think something like this would happen?”

He’s still working on trying to convince Jill that it’s better just to live in the moment with these types of things.

“Isn’t that how those types of people think?” Carlos arches his eyebrows as he looks at her.

Jill presses her lips together. “Okay…fair.”

On screen, the damsel in distress is making sure to earn that title, screaming as the shadow of a cat person creeps across the wall and doing nothing to get herself out of that particular situation, and Carlos chuckles to himself, using his bread to wipe the last of the curry from his plate. With his stomach full and the living room bathed in the comforting black and white flickering light, his body seems to grow even heavier, exhaustion making his limbs languid. The second Jill finishes her dinner and sets her plate on the coffee table, Carlos shifts his position so that he can lean in closer, bypassing her shoulder in favor of letting his head rest in her lap, even if it does leave his legs dangling off the other end of the couch.

Jill hums, a sort of amused, contented sound, her fingers settling against the curve of his shoulder, the warmth of her palm making his skin buzz in response. He’s easy that way, especially when it comes to Jill.

“I don’t understand why-”

“I thought we talked about this,” Carlos remarks, smile lazy, voice sounding as heavy as his muscles feel, low and throaty, “you can’t look for logic in these movies.”

“Becoming a cat person immediately makes you evil,” Jill finishes, ignoring his words of wisdom. “It’s not like every cat in the world is evil.”

Carlos shifts, trying to resist the urge to close his eyes. “Maybe that impulse comes from the human part.”

That, at least, earns him a laugh.

Jill’s hand moves from his shoulder, fingers absently slipping through his hair and brushing across the nape of his neck, only to repeat the gesture, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. Carlos sighs, lids growing heavier by the moment. “Jill…”

“Hmm?” She sounds distracted and when Carlos cracks one eye open to look at her, Jill’s attention is fully on the screen, her touch surely subconscious.

“If you don’t stop now…” It’s not like he wants her to, but they’ve barely made it through even half of one movie, and Carlos is pretty sure if he fell asleep now it would be some sort of record.

Jill’s movement pauses, fingers loosely tangled in his hair, and she glances down at him. “Oh, sorry.”

She goes to move her hand away and warning her off suddenly seems like the worst idea Carlos thinks he’s ever had.

“Actually, I’m fine, it’s fine, eres buena.” Carlos reaches for her wrist. “Carry on, querida.”

“Sure you’re not going to fall asleep?” Jill seems highly amused by this possibility.

“You know, I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Carlos says with a sigh, one that goes from feigned weariness to genuine contentment when Jill’s fingers brush against his scalp once more. “Besides…” he hesitates for only a second before adding, “I’ve already seen this one.”

“Carlos!”

#fictober23 #valeveira #Jill Valentine #carlos oliveira #Jill/Carlos #other tags I dunno I am tired #fluff and bad sci-fi movies

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