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rainbowfic2013-02-13 10:07 am
thelinesoflearning) wrote in rainbowfic2013-02-13 10:07 am
Peach Puff, True Blue
Name: Morgan
Story: No Child Is Spared
Colors: Peach Puff saturation, True Blue #15: Token of friendship
Supplies and Styles: Saturation, miniature collection, pointillism(? I think it counts but please tell me if I'm wrong)
Word Count: 722
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Everyone loves Dave's cupcakes, there's no question of that -- they're everyone's real favorite, they're his greatest creation, and if they ever get famous, it will be off the strength of Dave's cupcakes -- but he's a fantastic baker no matter what he puts his mind to, and everyone has their requests when he gets a break and heads for the kitchen.
For birthdays, of course, it's cakes, carefully crafted and completed before anyone else is allowed in the kitchen; he never writes down everyone's favorites, but he never makes the wrong kind for anyone, and he never has to ask them twice what they want.
(He visits his mother on her birthday with a cobbler in hand instead, though, the first dish she taught him and the first one he mastered, whatever kind has struck his fancy this year.)
For Teddy he bakes chocolate-chip cookies -- sometimes other kinds, but they always return to good old chocolate chip, grabbed by the handful fresh out of the oven and dipped in milk, the taste bringing back memories of old times, sports and scuffles and shared secrets.
Anya never asks for the thick, crusty loaves of bread that he leaves out on the counter for her, but they're always there nonetheless, always when she needs them most, when her food budget is lowest or the day is dragging on or she just needs something warm and familiar.
The twins are, as always, of one mind, devouring his brownies by the pan, and he learns to make them their own batch separate from everyone else's or nobody else will get one.
Phil asks for souffles now and again when things are quiet, and nobody asks why as they watch the two of them bend quietly together in the doorway, talking in low voices and sharing kitchen tips.
Bailey asks for muffins with big puppy-dog eyes, chocolate muffins with chocolate chips and to learn how to make them, and Dave never can say no to her, so he pulls her into the backroom and sets her on the counter -- even though she's thirteen now and has been tall enough to stand at it for years -- and tries one more time, though she's sure to get distracted before they're done.
Meg never asks, but Dave asks quiet questions until she tells him about the trifles her aunt used to make, and after that he surprises her now and again by sending care packages to the set with Teddy.
Jenny doesn't ask either, but Dave knows her well enough that she doesn't have to, and when she comes to visit unexpectedly, he talks her into staying till he fixes her up a batch of maple-walnut scones to take home, no matter how brief she expected the visit to be.
Chris asks for cinnamon buns every few days, but none of them ever see him eating any, and it's a puzzle for a couple of weeks, until the day Ginny comes to pick up his usual order of cupcakes and asks for a couple added to the bill because they're her favorite; Dave never forgets to throw them onto Chris' order after that.
Cliff gets pies, now and again, the nuttier the better, leaving them on the counter next to his workspace for anyone to take as he works and carefully wrapping up whatever's left at the end of the day to take home.
Thad asks for donuts by the dozen, glazed and frosted and sprinkles and jelly-filled and cream-filled, any kind Dave wants to make, and Dave takes a great joy in trying to find new recipes he thinks Thad might like for when he visits.
When Bruce comes around, Dave breaks out the waffle iron Bruce got him for his birthday and makes sure he's well-fed, always building up an extra stack for him to take home at the end of the day.
But Dave's favorite -- though he'd never be egotistical enough to claim he has a favorite of his own food -- is pancake nights; the nights when they close late and people are dropping by and nobody's eaten dinner, so he pulls out the griddle and they gather in the kitchen, talking over each other, sharing syrup and stories, passing plates around, finding comfort in the life they share, in the stillness of the hour, in the shop that may as well be home.
Story: No Child Is Spared
Colors: Peach Puff saturation, True Blue #15: Token of friendship
Supplies and Styles: Saturation, miniature collection, pointillism(? I think it counts but please tell me if I'm wrong)
Word Count: 722
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Everyone loves Dave's cupcakes, there's no question of that -- they're everyone's real favorite, they're his greatest creation, and if they ever get famous, it will be off the strength of Dave's cupcakes -- but he's a fantastic baker no matter what he puts his mind to, and everyone has their requests when he gets a break and heads for the kitchen.
For birthdays, of course, it's cakes, carefully crafted and completed before anyone else is allowed in the kitchen; he never writes down everyone's favorites, but he never makes the wrong kind for anyone, and he never has to ask them twice what they want.
(He visits his mother on her birthday with a cobbler in hand instead, though, the first dish she taught him and the first one he mastered, whatever kind has struck his fancy this year.)
For Teddy he bakes chocolate-chip cookies -- sometimes other kinds, but they always return to good old chocolate chip, grabbed by the handful fresh out of the oven and dipped in milk, the taste bringing back memories of old times, sports and scuffles and shared secrets.
Anya never asks for the thick, crusty loaves of bread that he leaves out on the counter for her, but they're always there nonetheless, always when she needs them most, when her food budget is lowest or the day is dragging on or she just needs something warm and familiar.
The twins are, as always, of one mind, devouring his brownies by the pan, and he learns to make them their own batch separate from everyone else's or nobody else will get one.
Phil asks for souffles now and again when things are quiet, and nobody asks why as they watch the two of them bend quietly together in the doorway, talking in low voices and sharing kitchen tips.
Bailey asks for muffins with big puppy-dog eyes, chocolate muffins with chocolate chips and to learn how to make them, and Dave never can say no to her, so he pulls her into the backroom and sets her on the counter -- even though she's thirteen now and has been tall enough to stand at it for years -- and tries one more time, though she's sure to get distracted before they're done.
Meg never asks, but Dave asks quiet questions until she tells him about the trifles her aunt used to make, and after that he surprises her now and again by sending care packages to the set with Teddy.
Jenny doesn't ask either, but Dave knows her well enough that she doesn't have to, and when she comes to visit unexpectedly, he talks her into staying till he fixes her up a batch of maple-walnut scones to take home, no matter how brief she expected the visit to be.
Chris asks for cinnamon buns every few days, but none of them ever see him eating any, and it's a puzzle for a couple of weeks, until the day Ginny comes to pick up his usual order of cupcakes and asks for a couple added to the bill because they're her favorite; Dave never forgets to throw them onto Chris' order after that.
Cliff gets pies, now and again, the nuttier the better, leaving them on the counter next to his workspace for anyone to take as he works and carefully wrapping up whatever's left at the end of the day to take home.
Thad asks for donuts by the dozen, glazed and frosted and sprinkles and jelly-filled and cream-filled, any kind Dave wants to make, and Dave takes a great joy in trying to find new recipes he thinks Thad might like for when he visits.
When Bruce comes around, Dave breaks out the waffle iron Bruce got him for his birthday and makes sure he's well-fed, always building up an extra stack for him to take home at the end of the day.
But Dave's favorite -- though he'd never be egotistical enough to claim he has a favorite of his own food -- is pancake nights; the nights when they close late and people are dropping by and nobody's eaten dinner, so he pulls out the griddle and they gather in the kitchen, talking over each other, sharing syrup and stories, passing plates around, finding comfort in the life they share, in the stillness of the hour, in the shop that may as well be home.
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(also, modly note: this does indeed count as a pointillism and you did everything right.)
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