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Post by molly on Jan 29, 2013 15:10:05 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; padding: 15px; background: #F7F3D7; border-top: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; border-bottom: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; border-radius: 15px;][style= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://i49.tinypic.com/10f2lhs.png); border: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; margin-top: -20px; border-bottom-left-radius: 15px;][/style][style= float: left; width: 80px; height: 80px; background: url(http://i49.tinypic.com/10f2lhs.png); border: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; margin-top: -08px; margin-left: 05px;][/style][style= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://i49.tinypic.com/10f2lhs.png); border: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; margin-top: -20px; border-bottom-right-radius: 15px; margin-left: 05px;][/style][style= color: #FF747D; font-family: lucida sans; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; margin-top: 05px; float: left; width: 320px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; font-weight: bold;]★Date: April 20th // Time: Morning // Place: Tasted So Good! Pâtisserie // Weather: Mostly clear, with a slight chance of rain // ★[/style]
[style=color: #FF747D; font-family: lucida sans; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; margin-top: 10px; float: left; width: 320px; font-style: italic; margin-top: -05px;]❝ Tags: Cassidy Branch // Cassidy Branch // Cassidy Branch // ❞[/style][style= float: left; background: #FCFBF2; width: 300px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #FF9590; padding: 10px; border-top: #ECE3A1 05px dashed;]Molly gave herself one more glance-over in her bathroom mirror before tying up her thick red hair into a tight ponytail. It seemed as though she had everything she needed: a long sleeved white shirt, faded bell bottom jeans, worn tennis-shoes, her petal pink “Tasted So Good! Pâtisserie” apron, a small assortment of necessary items—and finally, with her hair pulled up away from her face, she was ready to open the bakery on her own. For the first time, without the help of her Aunt. It was a bit nerve-wracking, but she and Aunt Elizabeth had talked through everything she needed to remember, and Molly felt that she was up to the challenge, her excitement outweighing her nervousness.
She headed towards the front door of the loft, humming a song she had heard playing on a radio station the day before, her pitch bouncing around from one sour note to the next. She swung the wooden door open with ease, and was greeted with a burst of lukewarm morning air. It was 5:00 a.m. and the sun wasn’t even up yet, but she wanted to make sure she had enough time and could get everything done by the 10:00 a.m. opening time. She figured 5 hours would be more than enough, especially since business had been relatively slow for the past couple of days.
Molly skittered down the stairs, pulling the door shut tight behind her, and shuffled over to the bakery’s entrance, almost directly beneath the loft she and her Aunt shared. She fished out a set of keys from her back pocket and unlocked the heavy Plexiglas doors. It was dark inside the small establishment, and Molly could still smell the pastries she and Aunt Elizabeth had nearly finished the night before, so that the doughy confections could be popped into the oven first thing in the morning. That way they would be nice and fresh for the customers. Flicking on the lights, she wasted no time diving in and began the process of opening.
First, she gathered the several dozen concoctions that had yet to be cooked and placed them each in one of the many ovens located in center of the kitchen, which was several feet behind the counter and various display cases. Then, while waiting for those to finish baking, Molly gathered the leftovers from the display case labeled “Day Old Pastries, 50% Off Original Price”, threw them out, and replaced them with fresher leftovers. If a product went more than two days without being sold, it needed to be thrown out. Anything that was a day old had to be sold at half price. By the time she had finished dealing with the leftover sweets, most of the baked goods had been browned to perfection and she hurried to take them out of the oven for cooling. She began to add the final touches to the pastries, and placed them in their respective display cases with their correct price labels attached. By 9:00 a.m., there was only one batch of sweets left in the oven.
It was a large batch of cinnamon rolls, one of her all-time favorite pastries to piece together, and the first thing her Aunt had ever taught her to bake. The smell coming from the oven was driving her nostrils crazy with want, and her stomach reciprocated, despite the fact that she'd eaten an incredibly large breakfast earlier that morning. In order to stop herself from gobbling up all the merchandise, Molly gathered some cleaning supplies from the broom closet in the very back of the kitchen area. Setting a timer on her cellphone to let her know when to take the cinnamon buns out of the oven, she walked outside and began vigorously washing down the windows and doors of the bakery.
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[STYLE= font-family: lucida sans; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: -1px;]MADE BY CYANIDE CANDY ✖[/style] |
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Post by cassidy on Jan 29, 2013 16:00:52 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background: #fafafa; padding: 15px; border-left: #eee solid 05px; border-bottom: #eee solid 05px; box-shadow: #ccc -1px 1px 1px;][style= float: right; width: 180px; height: 100px; background: url(http://i45.tinypic.com/2cyqm46.jpg); border: #eee solid 05px; box-shadow: #ccc -1px -1px 1px;][/style][style= color: #999; font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; float: left; width: 100px; margin-top: -70px; background: #eee; margin-left: 15px; padding: 05px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;]708 WORDS.[/style][style= color: #999; font-family: courier new; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; float: left; width: 170px; margin-top: -40px; background: #eee; margin-left: 15px; padding: 05px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;]（人´∀`*）[/style][style= float: left; background: #eee; width: 280px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #999; padding: 10px; margin-top: 10px; line-height: 10px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px;]It was a rough morning for the twin. The night prior she had been up attempting to knit little floral add-ons for her poncho project, but had failed countless of times and ultimately ended up passing out on the couch at around 3am. To her dismay, the woman had some sort of “inner alarm clock” that always had her up bright and early and the next morning was no different. The clock read 7:00 and no matter how hard Cassidy attempted to fall back to sleep, her mind wouldn’t let her. She guessed four hours of sleep would be good enough, but unless she wanted to feel groggy and horribly fatigued for the rest of the day she needed a good cup of Joe and stat.
As usual the apartment was quiet that morning, Dean had already departed for classes, and so Cassidy was left with a vacant sunrise yet again. A part of her pondered if the man she had met a few days ago would be around the fabric store once more, but then the other part of her worried that he wouldn’t be and she would’ve made that long trip to Downtown LA all for nothing. Well, the option of buying more yarn was always there but that wouldn’t do. The woman already had enough projects on her plate as is! Enough! Well, there never truly were enough projects for the ambitious knitter. She had two scarves—one a spiral design of pastels, the other a thinner shawl type—three hats—the man had inspired her to attempt something from the unknown, so she picked up beret designs, beanie designs, etc.—and various mittens. Then there were those darn flowers. They were the bane of her existence but she was determined to master the art of it.
Cassidy prepped herself with her normal morning routine: shower, decorated hair into pig tails that rested gracefully upon her collarbone, light make-up, and went with the long striped tank-top, stockings, and skirt wardrobe for the cool April day. The weather was definitely a lot better than the week prior, she was thankful the rain had moved on. With a quick grab towards her keys, black cardigan, and satchel, Cassidy shoved her yarn, knitting equipment, and a few of her nearly done projects (just in case the flowers gave her more trouble) within her bag and flipped the lights off before exiting the residence.
The woman had no destination in mind and simply wandered aimlessly the long stretches of LA streets. That was, of course, until a delectable aroma tickled her nostrils. Was that… cinnamon? Cassidy hadn’t devoured cinnamon treats in months let alone freshly baked ones. Frantically the woman investigated the area before her and noticed that not too far ahead was a bakery sign.
“Tasted So Good…?” Cassidy whispered as she read and wondered, how did she not notice the little shop before? As the woman lowered her gaze, her vision caught sight of yet another young woman who energetically worked on the glass windows before her. Immediately Cassidy’s entirety brightened to the thought of someone to talk to and with fastened steps she was at the other’s side within seconds.
“Hi!” She spouted, a bit too quickly, but then noticed the shut door. Was it not opened? Cassidy quickly dug into her bag, ripped her phone out, and swiped the screen to read the time: 9:45am. Well it wasn’t an ambiguous time at least, some things opened that early but then again she wouldn’t be surprised if it were actually closed. Any who, the smell of cinnamon was nearly intoxicating poor Cassidy. “Are you open? Because if you aren’t I will seriously wait here till you are. It just smells so good. You work here, right? Do you bake as well? Because if you do then bravo.” The girl giggled slightly and examined the empty shop. “Are you alone? Do you need any help at all?”
There was one bad habit (besides being a bit too pushy when meeting strangers) that Cassidy had and that was she always skipped introductions, all the time. With a mental slap, Cassidy offered her hand to the woman with an all-too-friendly grin plastered upon her lips. “My name is Cassidy!”
[/style][style= color: #999; font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; float: left; background: #eee; margin-left: 15px; padding: 05px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px; margin-top: 10px; text-transform: uppercase;]Tag Molly-pop![/style]
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[style= font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px;]MADE BY CYANIDE CANDY ✖[/style] |
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Post by molly on Jan 31, 2013 18:53:07 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; padding: 15px; background: #F7F3D7; border-top: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; border-bottom: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; border-radius: 15px;][style= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://i49.tinypic.com/10f2lhs.png); border: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; margin-top: -20px; border-bottom-left-radius: 15px;][/style][style= float: left; width: 80px; height: 80px; background: url(http://i49.tinypic.com/10f2lhs.png); border: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; margin-top: -08px; margin-left: 05px;][/style][style= float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://i49.tinypic.com/10f2lhs.png); border: #ECE3A1 solid 05px; margin-top: -20px; border-bottom-right-radius: 15px; margin-left: 05px;][/style][style= color: #FF747D; font-family: lucida sans; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; margin-top: 05px; float: left; width: 320px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; font-weight: bold;]★Date: April 20th // Time: Morning // Place: Tasted So Good! Pâtisserie // Weather: Mostly clear, with a slight chance of rain // ★[/style]
[style=color: #FF747D; font-family: lucida sans; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; margin-top: 10px; float: left; width: 320px; font-style: italic; margin-top: -05px;]❝ Tags: Cassidy Branch // Cassidy Branch // Cassidy Branch // ❞[/style][style= float: left; background: #FCFBF2; width: 300px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #FF9590; padding: 10px; border-top: #ECE3A1 05px dashed;]Molly was so focused on erasing a particularly stubborn splotch on the store window, that she didn’t notice the rapid footsteps heading towards her. When she heard that peppy voice rattling off one question after another, she couldn’t help but jump a little. She turned to face the girl addressing her—she was about Molly’s age it seemed, with her hair done up in a cute twin-braid hairstyle and with eyes that seemed more lively than most of the city folks she'd come into contact with. She couldn’t stifle the small giggle that was crawling up her throat. Did this girl even need to breathe? She couldn’t help but wonder. But this stranger’s genuine enthusiasm had put Molly in a good mood. She was grinning from ear to ear, and rested her hands on her sturdy hips. “Slow down there partner, it isn’t a race! I don’t want you to hurt yourself!”
The redhead took a moment to process all the inquiries that had been thrown her way, then proceeded to answer them. “We aren’t open quite yet, but you’re more than welcome to hang around until we do! It won’t be long now, the doors officially open at 10 a.m., so you sure got here at a good time! Everything’ll be nice and fresh, and you get your pick of the whole shop!” Molly took the girl’s outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. “The name’s Molly. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago, I’m studying baking under my Aunt; she’s the one who owns this place. She and I made all these goodies last night, and today I’ve been put in charge of opening.”
She released the girl’s hand and flashed the brightest, warmest smile she could muster. “It’s real nice to meet you Cassidy. And it’s downright sweet of you to offer, but I’m pretty much finished up here, just got the windows to do and the cinnamon buns to take out of the oven! You can just sit tight, ‘kay?”
Suddenly, Molly felt a frantic buzzing coming from her back jean-pocket. She reached back and grabbed her phone, the source of the vibrations, and checked the blinking screen. It bore a disturbing message. 3 Missed Alarms, it read. Molly almost dropped the device right there. How had she not noticed the previous alarms? If the rolls were burning, she didn’t know what she’d do. They were always the top sellers during the morning hours, and it was very rare when there were any left over to sell the next day for 50% off.
She darted towards the door, her sights set on the oven that was slowly overcooking her once flawless breakfast confections. She shot Cassidy an apologetic look, and motioned for her to follow. “No need to wait outside, come on in! I might need your opinion on something actually.” She shot herself across the cream colored tile floor in record time. She opened up the offending oven, slipped on her floral oven mitts and liberated the pastries from their sweltering hot prison. Placing them on the cooling rack, she flipped each cinnamon roll and examined it thoroughly before moving on to the next one.
To her relief, most of them seemed to retain at least some of their desired gooey texture, but a small handful had become too hard and crusty to sell. She separated the good ones from the bad and motioned for Cassidy to come behind the counter and stand next to her. “What do you think? Would you still eat these? Ignore the ones over on the right. They’re in no condition to be sold…but what about the ones on the left?” Molly furrowed her brow, nervously twirling a thick strand of her red hair between her right thumb and pointer finger. She wasn’t going to freak out; at least they weren’t on fire or anything like that. But, if these cinnamon rolls ended up having to all be thrown out, it would be such a waste.
Grabbing a nearby icing tube, Molly decorated one of the buns with just the right amount of vanilla icing. She scooped it up gently and placed it onto a square of pink wax paper. “Here! It might be better to make your decision after tasting it. This one’s on the house, since you’re the one helping me out here!” She held out the large cinnamon pastry to Cassidy. “Go ahead, take a bite!”
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Post by cassidy on Feb 2, 2013 8:06:57 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 300px; background: #fafafa; padding: 15px; border-left: #eee solid 05px; border-bottom: #eee solid 05px; box-shadow: #ccc -1px 1px 1px;][style= float: right; width: 180px; height: 100px; background: url(http://i45.tinypic.com/2cyqm46.jpg); border: #eee solid 05px; box-shadow: #ccc -1px -1px 1px;][/style][style= color: #999; font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; float: left; width: 100px; margin-top: -70px; background: #eee; margin-left: 15px; padding: 05px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;]974 WORDS.[/style][style= color: #999; font-family: courier new; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; float: left; width: 170px; margin-top: -40px; background: #eee; margin-left: 15px; padding: 05px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px; text-transform: uppercase;]（人´∀`*）[/style][style= float: left; background: #eee; width: 280px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #999; padding: 10px; margin-top: 10px; line-height: 10px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px;]If Cassidy stood there any longer she was sure she’d keel over from the sweet intoxication. The unique aroma of bakeries could cure any illness, she was sure of it. No soul could block such pleasantness. The woman could feel her tiredness lift from her being, which was then replaced with extreme hunger. Cassidy felt her gut tighten with every inhale. She needed something sweet!
It wasn’t too long after Cassidy spoke that the young woman responded. At first, Cassidy lifted her brows in mild shock at how attractive the other woman was. Not in a sense of physical attraction from Cassidy, but she held a peculiar uniqueness that Cassidy wasn’t familiar with in the city. There was something about her that baffled the woman but Cassidy couldn’t quite pinpoint the quality just yet. As the lady had turned, her physique revealed, Cassidy felt an amateur blush tint her innocent cheeks and fixated her vision on the lady’s chocolate brown eyes. The red-head was definitely well endowed for someone who appeared Cassidy’s age, though not as apparent as it could’ve been if the lady had decided to wear something more form fitting, but that was beside the point.
“Slow down there partner, it isn’t a race! I don’t want you to hurt yourself! |
[/i]” That! That was it! The unfamiliar quality that Cassidy just couldn’t grasp and yet as she spoke her southern accent was as bright as the sun; that was it, she was a country girl! Cassidy puckered her lips and allowed her limbs to succumb to the weakness that overwhelmed her. This lady was so cute, she couldn’t stand it. Her arm bounced like a freshly boiled noodle when the red-head firmly accepted her handshake, but Cassidy quickly flexed her muscles so she wouldn’t appear too dainty to the southern woman. Cassidy, for the first time ever, had experienced the sensation of being speechless. She felt her jaw slightly unhinge which left her lips parted, the woman was just so happy. Molly, from what Cassidy could make off of her first impression, was someone with enough sweetness in their personality to match the saccharinity of her own baked goods. She was even open enough with strangers to explain a bit about herself—usually now-a-days not many people illuminated more than they had to about themselves, especially in the city—it was a strange satisfaction to be able to experience southern hospitality in a place that desperately needed it. Cassidy must’ve lost herself within contemplation because as soon as she came to, Molly had already offered her to follow inside. What did she miss? Hopefully the woman hadn’t zoned out during Molly’s conversation, she would’ve felt horrible for doing so. Though as Cassidy followed the red-head, both hands tightened around the strap to her satchel, she was able to piece together what she had missed. Molly must’ve neglected an alarm of some sort, because she frantically maneuvered her way to the gorgeous oven and opened it only to unveil the hidden jewels that were her pastries. Now Cassidy’s mouth began to water. “ What do you think? Would you still eat these?...[/i]” Cassidy dropped her vision to the fresh cinnamon buns, and then averted her gaze to the ones she mentioned that were “in no condition to sell” and released a soft chuckle. “ Honestly I’d eat them all…” Cassidy managed to breathlessly whisper. Molly offered a burning hot pastry that dripped with fresh icing. “ What?” Cassidy offered both hands that delicately accepted the gift, “ I couldn’t-” The woman had a hard time accepting gifts without feeling the immense guilt of having to pay them back; however, she didn’t want to tell Molly no and instead eyed the cinnamon bun with deep hunger. Perhaps one should’ve waited a few seconds in order to allow the treat to cool, but Cassidy gripped the steaming cinnamon bun and had downed it in a few bites. At the initial bite the woman winced to the heat, her cheeks flushed red, but she continued to chew and soon rolled her eyes at the delectable taste. “ Thish ish shoooo good.” Cassidy spoke softly mid-devour, careful not to spray crumbs. After the last remnants of the pastry were swallowed, Cassidy inhaled deeply. “ That… was so good.” She repeated, “ Honestly, Molly, I could live off of those. Do you realize how long it has been since I’ve had anything homemade or that good? I can’t cook myself… I usually just buy cereal or frozen dinners or something… but I never have pastries, they usually require you to use the oven which I’m pretty sure I have a curse with—everything I bake ends up burning, but maybe it’s the oven instead? It is a pretty old apartment complex…” Cassidy rambled as she gripped her satchel. “ What else do you have? Do you make scones? I love scones! My favorite is cinnamon scones—I love cinnamon. I also love chocolate, bananas, peanut butter, and vanilla. Not vanilla ice-cream you see, but like the sweet vanilla extract that’s used in French toast or most baking goods. But yeah, you baked all those yourself?” Cassidy pointed to the various ovens. “ You could wrap those ovens up and put a ribbon on them! Like giving little gifts to the customers…” She smiled widely. Suddenly the woman clasped her hands together and felt her eyes tear up, “ Your pastries are magic.” Cassidy was sure her overreaction would be overbearing, but it was an attribute that she sadly had to deal with. “ B-But I wanted to ask… where are you from? I noticed your accent, oh! And welcome to LA I hope you’ve liked it so far, it’s definitely a big change I’m sure. If you ever need anyone to show you the ropes, I’ve got you covered.” Cassidy shoved her thumb towards her chest as a gesture. [/style][style= color: #999; font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; float: left; background: #eee; margin-left: 15px; padding: 05px; box-shadow: #ccc 1px 1px 1px; margin-top: 10px; text-transform: uppercase;]Tag Molly-pop![/style] [/td][/tr][/table][style= font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px;]MADE BY CYANIDE CANDY ✖[/style][/center] |
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