Raleigh Harper / Emily Watkins (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-29 12:39 am
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-29 12:39 am
When your mood echoes your baking, you're gonna have a bad time. (Open) TW: references to violence
Trigger Warning: This thread contains references to violence and traumatic flashbacks. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to tweet @thestarsplay for clarification. Thanks!
--Four batches of cookies. Four batches of the world's simplest cookies, and they'd all sucked. Every single one of them. One batch was burned on the edges with raw insides, the other she'd used salt instead of sugar (that was a nightmare), one she'd forgotten to put in the butter, and now, this.
She didn't even know what happened. Raleigh sat on Spencer's front porch, her crutches leaning against the railing as she did what she never thought she'd have to do again: she was scraping the burnt bottoms off the cookies with a butter knife, scowling. This? This hadn't happened since she was six.
What the hell was wrong with her?
"Damn it," she said to herself when she realised she only had a sliver of cookie left, and she made a face, putting it on the plate of 'salvaged' ones - or chips, really. They were mere shadows of the cookies they should have been.
--Four batches of cookies. Four batches of the world's simplest cookies, and they'd all sucked. Every single one of them. One batch was burned on the edges with raw insides, the other she'd used salt instead of sugar (that was a nightmare), one she'd forgotten to put in the butter, and now, this.
She didn't even know what happened. Raleigh sat on Spencer's front porch, her crutches leaning against the railing as she did what she never thought she'd have to do again: she was scraping the burnt bottoms off the cookies with a butter knife, scowling. This? This hadn't happened since she was six.
What the hell was wrong with her?
"Damn it," she said to herself when she realised she only had a sliver of cookie left, and she made a face, putting it on the plate of 'salvaged' ones - or chips, really. They were mere shadows of the cookies they should have been.