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rainbowfic2023-07-16 06:56 pm
wallwalker) wrote in rainbowfic2023-07-16 06:56 pm
Fluorite 13
Name: Wallwalker
Story: Ice Cream Day
Colors: Fluorite 13: Family/Friends
Supplies: Brush (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/cogent), Calendar Page (National Ice Cream Day), Novelty Bead (Mug)
Style: Graffiti (11 Years of Rainbowfic pt 7), Life Drawing (trans/nb character)
Word Count: 460
Rating: G
Warnings: Discussion of family rejection.
Summary: They don't miss much about their family, but a few things still linger.
---
They miss the homemade ice cream the most.
Over the years it had been practically a holiday for their family, when they had been young. Their grandmother would get the ice cream churn and chocolate syrup and caramel and sprinkles, along with every other topping they could think of, and mix up their own special recipe for vanilla ice cream. Then their grandpa would be the one who did the hard work of churning it; their grandparents had both believed that hand-churning made ice cream better.
The entire family would come to their house to eat. Some of them thought to bring their own bowls, but a few always forgot, and they repurposed anything else they could so everyone could have a serving - coffee mugs, tumblers, even wine glasses from time to time, although their grandmother always complained about using those.
Those had been good days, but more often than not it just made them sad. How could any of those memories still be good, after their own family had kicked them out? They were sure that their family had kept on having ice cream day for years after they'd left, and that no one had even missed them. Or if they had, they thought about the "charming little boy" who'd giggled behind his mug of ice cream, before they had decided to be true to themselves.
They don't talk about their past with many of their friends and roommates, most of the time; thinking about family was difficult for most of them, and they all had their own scars. But they must've mentioned it to someone, maybe when they'd had a bit too much to drink; apparently they told their best stories when they were drunk.
That must've been why they'd come home to their shared apartment, to the smell of vanilla and the sound of churning, and their roommates scrambling to find more chairs for the other friends who'd come over to join them. They had all the paper bowls they'd had left lined up on the table, along with their supply of plastic bowls and coffee mugs and, yes, even a single wine glass.
It was only fair, the others had said, that if they had such a good memory of this despite how things had turned out with their family, their friends should try to do their best to do the same. And they had to admit it was a very cogent argument.
The ice cream was a bit runny; no one there had really known how to control the temperature, and no one had thought to buy rock salt, instead dumping most of a can of iodized table salt into the ice bath. But that was all right, they remembered thinking, cold mug of melting ice cream in their hands and smiling. Hopefully they'd have years to practice.
Story: Ice Cream Day
Colors: Fluorite 13: Family/Friends
Supplies: Brush (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/cogent), Calendar Page (National Ice Cream Day), Novelty Bead (Mug)
Style: Graffiti (11 Years of Rainbowfic pt 7), Life Drawing (trans/nb character)
Word Count: 460
Rating: G
Warnings: Discussion of family rejection.
Summary: They don't miss much about their family, but a few things still linger.
---
They miss the homemade ice cream the most.
Over the years it had been practically a holiday for their family, when they had been young. Their grandmother would get the ice cream churn and chocolate syrup and caramel and sprinkles, along with every other topping they could think of, and mix up their own special recipe for vanilla ice cream. Then their grandpa would be the one who did the hard work of churning it; their grandparents had both believed that hand-churning made ice cream better.
The entire family would come to their house to eat. Some of them thought to bring their own bowls, but a few always forgot, and they repurposed anything else they could so everyone could have a serving - coffee mugs, tumblers, even wine glasses from time to time, although their grandmother always complained about using those.
Those had been good days, but more often than not it just made them sad. How could any of those memories still be good, after their own family had kicked them out? They were sure that their family had kept on having ice cream day for years after they'd left, and that no one had even missed them. Or if they had, they thought about the "charming little boy" who'd giggled behind his mug of ice cream, before they had decided to be true to themselves.
They don't talk about their past with many of their friends and roommates, most of the time; thinking about family was difficult for most of them, and they all had their own scars. But they must've mentioned it to someone, maybe when they'd had a bit too much to drink; apparently they told their best stories when they were drunk.
That must've been why they'd come home to their shared apartment, to the smell of vanilla and the sound of churning, and their roommates scrambling to find more chairs for the other friends who'd come over to join them. They had all the paper bowls they'd had left lined up on the table, along with their supply of plastic bowls and coffee mugs and, yes, even a single wine glass.
It was only fair, the others had said, that if they had such a good memory of this despite how things had turned out with their family, their friends should try to do their best to do the same. And they had to admit it was a very cogent argument.
The ice cream was a bit runny; no one there had really known how to control the temperature, and no one had thought to buy rock salt, instead dumping most of a can of iodized table salt into the ice bath. But that was all right, they remembered thinking, cold mug of melting ice cream in their hands and smiling. Hopefully they'd have years to practice.
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