A peckish Thursday: Food and Drink

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

hobnailedboots here again, with your Thursday theme of food and drink.

You know the rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
No spoilers in prompts.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.

Prompts should be formatted as follows:
Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Harry Potter, Bill/Fleur, preparing to host a Weasley feast for the first time.
+ Teen Wolf, Alison/Lydia, ice cream
+ Teen Wolf, Danny/Jackson, breakfast in bed

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Visit the lonely prompt archive and brighten someone’s day. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.


tag=food and drink

Comments

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Harry Potter, Bill/Fleur, preparing to host a Weasley feast for the first time

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Teen Wolf, Alison/Lydia, ice cream

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Teen Wolf, Danny/Jackson, breakfast in bed

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, Modern AU: "I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crisps"

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam, learning to cook for himself at Stanford

[flyweightlove.livejournal.com]

Emelan, Briar(/any), a midnight snack

[flyweightlove.livejournal.com]

Elementary, Moriarty/Joan, coffee

[iknowtimesthree.livejournal.com]

Joan is used to making the morning pot of coffee. Even though Sherlock usually wakes up first, he is often too focused on other things to consider pressing the two buttons necessary to start the brew. It’s habitual, waking up and shuffling into their kitchen and masking yawns with the sounds of the machine heating up. So it’s understandable that when she rolls over and smells fresh coffee, she’s filled with confusion.

“Morning,” a soft voice calls from the doorway. Jamie is leaning against the doorframe with a mug in each hand, her white shirt buttoned up just enough to be decent for her trip to the kitchen. Although later when Joan is more awake, she’ll realize wearing that shirt with no pants probably isn’t even close to decent.

“Good morning,” she replies sleepily. She sits up and accepts a warm mug as Jamie joins her on the bed. “You’re an angel.”

Jamie laughs quietly as she rests her head against the wall and her arm against Joan’s leg. “Hardly, but I appreciate that you think so. I hope the coffee isn’t too bad. Some sugar and a bit of milk, right?”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Joan tries not to smile too much at the sentiment. It’s been a long time since she has been around anyone that remembers how she likes her coffee prepared.

They spend a few quiet moments together, slowly drinking their coffee and stealing glances at each other. Jamie finishes her drink first and puts the mug on Joan’s nightstand with a thud. “I don’t mean to rush you but Sherlock said he would be back from the station in two hours. I was hoping we could spend some time in the shower together.”

Joan quickly downs the contents of her cup and leans over the side of the bed to put the mug on the floor. “I’m not quite ready to get up yet. Let’s spend some time here first and then we can shower.”

It’s Jamie’s turn to try and keep her smile under control.

[amai-kaminari.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, "I could eat you up."

FILLED!

[nanoks.livejournal.com]

Their night of passionate lovemaking started with a cute playfully kiss. They were snuggling on the couch, eating yummy sweet ice-cream and watching a chick flick movie. Jensen was feeling a little sweet-silly so he drew a chocolate heart on his cheek with his ice-cream.

Jared, a sweetheart himself, couldn’t resist leaning and slowly licking the delicious chocolate of Jensen’s smooth freckle skin. “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” He hummed, licking his lips. “You are a sweet treat, baby boy. I could eat you up.” He’s never been able to control his libido, not when his lover is around. He pulled Jensen into his arms and held him as his boyfriend straddled his waist, nuzzling Jensen’s freckle neck and biting his stubble jaw while Jensen squirmed on his lap.

He scooped up another droplet of ice-cream from the bowl and soothes it over Jensen’s lush lips then he kissed him, his wet tongue licking softly at Jensen’s beautiful mouth, gathering every drop of sweetness. Maybe it was the sweet taste of Jensen’s lips, or those cute freckles glowing as Jensen blushed, or maybe it was the feel of Jensen grinding on his lap, his perky ass rubbing along the line of Jared’s thickness; whatever the reason, Jared couldn’t contain his lust. He picked Jensen up and took him to bed, and made sweet love to him all night long, holding his lover tenderly in his arms as he kissed Jensen’s passionately.

(END)

[amai-kaminari.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, Tall drink of water

[amai-kaminari.livejournal.com]

Any, any, an apple a day

Not a fill.

[sapphire2309]

Brings to mind the quote - An apple a day keeps the doctor away, especially when it's well aimed.

[amai-kaminari.livejournal.com]

Any, any, "Mangoes or bananas?"

Original ficlet: Mangoes or bananas?

[tinhutlady.livejournal.com]

“Mangoes or bananas?” she asked.

The child stared at her suspiciously. Undaunted, she forged onward.

“Now some might say that creamy vanilla ice cream would not need mangoes or bananas, and it really doesn’t, but it you ever wanted to be adventurous, ever wanted to be a princess in a fantastic land, we could determine just what kind of fantastic land you would go to by knowing what you would be willing to try with your ice cream.”

The child’s eyebrows quirked in doubt, but the slight lift to one corner of her pouting mouth gave the babysitter hope. “Such as?”

The older girl waved the ice cream scoop around with enthusiasm. “Chocolate ice cream with strawberries and white chocolate chips might mean you would ride over mountains on horseback and search for magical creatures. Strawberry ice cream with bananas and chocolate sprinkles might mean you would enjoy a seafaring adventure with dolphins. Vanilla ice cream with mangoes and whipped cream might mean you want to travel the stars.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

“What kind of ice cream goes with swords and ogres?”

The babysitter frowned. “You want to watch Shrek? Again?”

“Yes! All of them,” said the now happy 7-year-old.

The babysitter paused to consider. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream with mini marshmallows and chocolate syrup, then. Possibly cherries on top.”

The child nodded gravely. “I’ll try it.”

“That’s the spirit! Go get the DVDs,” said the baby sitter as she began scooping out dessert for both of them. She smiled to herself. This would teach the mother to make a bet with her that she couldn’t get the child to eat anything strange or new.

[tigriswolf]

Any fandom with dragons, any dragon, this and the tags too

Original Fill: A Civilized Meal

[scribblemyname]

Adan, the dragon, stretched his wings and shook them out when he woke up. He rolled over on his side, yawned out a great fiery breath, then puttered past the treasure room toward the mouth of his cave, thinking about breakfast, as he dragged his tail behind him.

A young princess sat at the mouth of the cave, humming to herself as she read a book while seated on a pile of jewels overlaid with a silver-threaded cloak she claimed made it all right to sit on. Adan never saw the need for cloth between his body and a good hoard, but human flesh was decidedly softer, perhaps why he preferred to eat his own meals from villages down the mountainside.

"Morning, Princess," Adan hissed out with his forked tongue. His dragon accent was impossible to remove from the human words, but for his little human eggling, he tried.

"Good morning." Princess looked up and smiled. He had found her as an abandoned child on the mountainside. Her crooked leg caused her parents to cast her out as unfit to be royalty, and aghast, Adan had taken her in.

Princess wouldn't eat Adan's food, however, claiming it atrocious to consider eating her own species. Perhaps humans had a broader definition of family, but Adan rather doubted it as they raised cattle young then ate the very creatures they'd adopted. Adan would never eat Princess. The very idea was uncivilized.

"I will bring you a cow," he told her solemnly.

Princess sighed. "I haven't finished the last one you brought me."

"Oh. Did I roast it all?" he asked.

"Yes, you did." She smiled. "You just go get your breakfast."

Adan sighed out an affirmative, careful to breathe fire only well above her head, then shook out his wings and took to the air, drifting on a current in the direction of the nearest village. He thought a young maiden would do nicely.

He didn't quite get that far, deciding to stop for some sheep just beyond the houses.

Screams rent the village air and Adan lifted his head, curious. "Monster!" someone cried. He looked around for the monster, snatched up his sheep, and took it home to eat in peace.

[tigriswolf]

Star Trek reboot, gen, Jim Kirk can’t escape Tarsus

[tigriswolf]

Highlander, Methos, he has a different favorite food for every life

[surferofdreams.livejournal.com]

Methos doesn't remember what his favorite food was in his first life. A few (actually many, but it's not like he was counting) lifetimes down the road of time, someone asks and he realizes he has no answer.

"Favorite food?" he says, as though he has been asked a riddle. He pauses for a moment on the road (literal, this time, he's traveling with a group of nomads for a few months because he hasn't yet decided where to settle into a new self) to think, and the child who asked the question pauses with him.

"I don't know he," he says, and continues walking. "What's yours?"

"Apples," the girl replies. "but none of them are ripe yet, so my mother says I have to wait."

"Well, maybe I shall try your apples when they are ready. Maybe they can be my favorite, too."

When he puts together his next life, Methos remembers that conversation. 'What /is/ my favorite food?' he thinks.

Years pass, then decades and centuries, and every time he's asked the question he gives a different answer. Sometimes it's a local specialty, and everyone else in town eats it just as much as he does. Sometimes it's anything from a particular cook, and his friends tease him. Sometimes he'll say it's beer, if for no other reason than that people like Duncan MacLeod will argue that beer doesn't count as food. One time, the answer is "the blood of my enemies".

But every time he builds a new life, a new self, and thinks about who he's going to be, the first thing he decides is what his favorite food will be this time.

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, Dean, the reason he eats every time food is offered is because he remembers going hungry as a kid (Sam doesn't because he never did)

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, Jo, trying to watch Hannibal on TV and shouting, "It's people! It's all people!" (Also, doing calculations to figure out when Hannibal will become a wendigo)

(everything I know about Hannibal, I learned from tumblr)

[livingtolaugh.livejournal.com]

any, any, last meal

[livingtolaugh.livejournal.com]

New Tricks, Gerry, cooking is an easy way to relax

[livingtolaugh.livejournal.com]

Bridal Mask, Kang To/Mok Dan, "I wanted to make you dinner everyday."

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

Author's choice, author's choice, eating an orange with a knife and fork

(Which is an odd reference to come to mind, but howandever ...)

no fill

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

That reminds of that ABOFAL sketch where Stephen Fry's eating cereal with a knife and fork held the wrong way round. :)

[iknowtimesthree.livejournal.com]

Elementary, Joan/Moriarty, tea

[flyweightlove.livejournal.com]

“Now why exactly would I want to bring her tea?”

Sherlock looked at her with his usual expression, but she knew him well enough at that point to know when he was trying to hide something. “She doesn’t mention you very often, but she happened to request it specifically in our latest correspondence. When she expressed that she’d been feeling ill, I mentioned what wonders your mother’s tea had done for me. I should think it’s a great compliment.”

Joan rolled her eyes. “Take what as a compliment, that you told her stories about me, or that she wants something from me?” She already knew how he would respond, but felt the need to voice her sarcasm either way. The vibe she got from Moriarty’s interest in her was not a good one.

“Well, both to be truthful, but I meant her request. I believe she has a great deal of respect for you, and that’s something to be admired. She doesn’t respect easily.”

While what he said was true, Joan was sure she wasn’t about to take it as a compliment any time soon. The only reason Moriarty respected her was that she’d been proven a worthy adversary. “I don’t agree with you even continuing to communicate with her, much less tell her details about my life, however small. Besides, would they even let me give it to her? For all anyone knows I could poison it.”

“She knows that you wouldn’t. I’m sure the guards could be persuaded, if you delivered it in person.”

And there it was. The true motivation finally clicked in Joan’s mind. “Is this just an excuse to get me to visit her? To what end?”

Sherlock stiffened into a deeper frown. “I could hardly know. But yes, I’m fairly sure.”

She had assumed Sherlock himself had been the one wanting her to visit, and tried not to let the surprise of his response show. “Why would you pass on the message, then? I doubt she could do anything from her position, but isn’t this kind of just serving me to her on a silver platter?”

“I would never intentionally put you into danger, Watson. I don’t believe she means you any harm.”

“What would make you think that she means me anything but harm?” She trusted Sherlock’s instincts most of the time, but she knew better than anyone how easily Moriarty could manipulate him.

He was silent for a moment, his reluctance to respond clearly evident. “Well, you see… She speaks of you much like she used to consider me. Back when I knew her only as Irene. But you have an advantage I didn’t have. You know the truth.”

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

Author's choice, author's choice, spices worth more than gold

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne, the Aurora crew, breakfast in the clouds

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

Author's choice, author's choice, "The tea seller, like the perfumer or the chocolatier, is a magician of the senses."

Fill Avengers Tony/Bruce

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Tony loved watching Bruce make tea.

It happened early in the morning, when it was only the two of them in the kitchen, Bruce having gotten up early, Tony having stayed up late.

It was a long process, and one that Bruce did the same way every time, a perfect balancing act between a scientific experiment and a ritual. Tony couldn’t look away.

The careful measuring, the gentle jostle as the leaves fell into the teapot -- always a clear glass pot, so Bruce could watch the tea steep.

The whistle of the kettle, shrill, vibrant.

Then the wait. Bruce would never pour boiling water into the teapot; he always waited a few minutes, the calm quiet of a clock ticking high on the kitchen wall.

Bruce walked halfway across town every Saturday to pick up his supply of his favorite blend. Part green tea from a particular mountain in a southern province in China, part black tea from Sri Lanka, a few chrysanthemum leaves, and mild hints of cardamom and ginger. (Bruce had offered to take Tony to the tea shop a few times, but Tony always declined; he imagined it as some kind of colorful bazaar, where Bruce spoke with merchants in six languages, wandering about, passing one booth selling spices from rough tan sacks, the next peddling vials of perfumes or poisons. Tony really didn’t need to have the fantasy ruined by seeing some well-lit hipster shop full of stacked plastic containers of tea and health foods.)

Bruce usually leaned back against the table as he waited for the water, right next to where Tony was sitting at the table. Tony would be drinking – of course – a cup of coffee, prepared efficiently by a JARVIS-controlled coffee machine. Bruce, however, never wanted JARVIS to make tea for him.

When the water was right – hot enough to emit willowy steam but not burn the lips – Bruce would pour the water over the tea leaves.

They would watch, then. The tea leaves, whole, would bloom in the heat, unfolding and swelling into broad curves of green and black, like fingers spreading wide, waiting.

Bruce would sit at the table then, next to Tony, and wait until the tea was ready to be poured. The scent of the leaves would pedal about the room, and Tony would put his coffee down so he could inhale the soft fragrance, the mellowed notes of floral and spice.

Bruce would pour the liquid into the cup then, never using a strainer – he didn’t care if leaves ended up in his cup. He would hold the cup for a moment, then, both his hands wrapped around the cup, and Tony would imagine the warmth of it as he stared at Bruce’s fingers.

Bruce would lean down then and inhale the scent of the tea, closing his eyes, curling his upper body low, close to the cup. Tony would watch as his nostrils flared at the aroma, as the steam left just a thin sheen of sweat on Bruce’s face.

Bruce would bring the cup to his lips then, sipping slow, deep, and then he would smile, staring down at the cup like he didn’t need anything else in the world but a good cup of tea.

Sometimes, Bruce would ask Tony, “Are you sure you don’t want to try some?”

Tony would always hesitate, then answer “No. There’s no way it’ll taste as good as I imagine. And what’s the point in chasing disappointment?”

[tieleen.livejournal.com]

Community, Abed & Annie & Troy, making dinner together (or: Abed & Annie, making dinner without Troy)