#baking rootlings

[rootedincuteness]

You might not have known this about Pillomin, but he enjoys a good cake. After all, you didn't think he got that pleasingly plump eating healthy all the time, did you? He adores cinnamon, and today he helped me bake this cinnamon swirl cake. He's actually quite the accomplished baking assistant, and it was a pleasure to work with him. I even shook his hand (er, arm nub) and thanked him for a job well done when we were all finished. It was even better when we go to eat the results of our labor. =)

[bibliocratic]

Aspec Martin Week – Day 4 

Martin's first Pride ft. OG Archive Crew. Set sometime during S1. 

Martin hangs close to Sasha near a stand selling gaudy accessories and spinning fans while Tim bounds off, shoving cheerfully through the mass of people, promising to search out somewhere that might have something approaching alcohol.

He's been gone a while now, and Martin's been anxiously adjusting his scratchy, over-loose bow-tie to try and distract himself, feeling sweaty and visible and uncomfortable. Sasha and Tim, in their early morning marshalling of their small group, had convinced him to paint his nails in some gauche glittery material that ripples rainbow when the light strikes it. He doesn't like the colour, and he's half ruined it anyway with his picking and fussing. Someone hasn't adjusted the volume controls on whatever system they've set up, and the next song blares out screaming-loud before someone lowers it, and Martin winces at how much it all it, every time someone gets hold of a garbling microphone and hollers something in the distance that gets muffled by a feedback whine.

He keeps checking his phone to make sure his mum hasn't called. He still isn't sure what excuse he'd try.

“What do you think?” Sasha angles her neck up to half-shout in Martin's ear. “For your first one?”

She's better dressed for the day, that's for sure, a flowing cotton summer dress  with sewn-on streamers like some particularly striking maypole. She has a fake flower crown and it makes her look like a wispy fae creature. Her earrings dangle and chime, and Martin's glad he's not here on his own.

“Loud,” Martin complains back, and he thinks she laughs and nods in agreement before he's glancing around again at the masses of people. “Are you sure Tim's ok, I really think he should have been back by – ”

“Oy, over here!” comes the shout, and from the assembled gaggle, Tim emerges, looking delighted and smug and red-faced, his cheeks and the top of his nose having caught the sun. He adjusts his cap from where it's been jauntily knocked, and he's somehow gained the most tacky pair of rainbow sunglasses and at least five new roughly slapped on stickers since he vanished.

“Finally!” Sasha shouts back to him. “Took your time!”

“OK!” Tim says, clearly having not heard her or chosen not to. “Firstly, very important, on the alcohol front, ta-dah!” he gestures at his now bulging backpack. “Who's the man, huh, who delivers on his promises?”

“Like some sort of boozy Santa,” Sasha agrees, and unzips the bag to get a better look. “Someone's had a few on the job already!”

Tim makes a face. “Only one!”

“Tim, are you thirteen, what you doing buying us this shite!” Sasha rootles around, pushing the Heineken cans out of the way and pulling half-out the three litre bottle of Frosty Jack's.

“They don't sell White Lightning any more!”

“For good reason!”

“C'mon, it'll be a reminder of old times! A misspent youth...”

“Not all of us hung about the parks getting wankered off cheap cider, Timothy.”

Martin's letting the rhythm of their conversation wash over him. Someone gave him a big beaming grin two minutes ago as they passed, an easy and appreciative look-over, and the heat of that interaction hasn't quite left his cheeks.

“And secondly, if I can be allowed to get a word in edgeways – ”

“You may.”

“A kindness, m' lady.”

“Get on with it, serf.”

“Secondly, guys, look, they were giving them out for free!”

Tim presents his snaffled haul, his palms full of colours and patterns. A collection of cheaply-made paper flags, clearly printed and folded over and stuck onto cocktail sticks. There's a good number of them Martin doesn't recognise, but he doesn't want to feel ignorant by asking, so he keeps quiet.

“Sash, Sash, Sash,” Tim sing-songs at her.

“Tim, Tim, Tim,” she warbles back in a faux operatic voice.

“Got this one 'specially.”

“Charmer,” she smiles, but she allows Tim to stretch up to the height she's achieved with some seriously fuck-off heels, to plant the little flag behind her ear like a flower. She makes a show of preening, twirling it dramatically so the blue, white and pink of the stripes blur together for a moment. “It's acceptable.”

“You're too gracious,” Tim gives a mock bow. He's already stuck his blue, purple and pink flag into one of the belt loops of his jeans, the corner of it already bent slightly at the rough treatment.

He then turns to Martin.

“Let's spruce you up then Marto!”

Martin's in half a mind to refuse. It took a lot for him to even come here, and he's still not quite gotten rid of the tension that's strung across his shoulders. But he sets his jaw and knows he can always pocket them so no-one can see later.

He shyly grabs a multicolour pride flag from Tim's open hands. Then, daring, almost surprising himself, he grabs a second flag.

Sasha gives him an elbow nudge and a smile. Tim gives a whoop and a cheer and attempts to crush them both into a poorly aimed hug, before he shoves the rest of his haul into his trouser pockets.

Martin doesn't stick his own flags anywhere. He holds them fisted in his palm all day, over-aware of them, doing his best to protect them from the tides of people even though they eventually get a bit bashed and crumpled.

Tim's all for spending the night out on the town. But they spend most of the afternoon baking and hot, covered in glitter and day-drinking, finding a park along the way and casting themselves limblessly on the grass, so it's early yet when they start away from the street parties and thumping dance music. Tim ends the day with one cheek striped blue, one pink and his forehead purple, with some face-paint he's somehow gotten somewhere, waxing effusive about someone he danced to Taylor Swift with and didn't get her number: 'stunning, honestly, Martin, she was like one of those hot 1940's Hollywood people.'

“Didn't know you were into grandmas, Tim,” Sasha mumbles, half the words directed into Martin's ruin of hair. She's taken off her heels – which Tim is now holding, having tried and failed to get them to fit – and as the most sober one, Martin's carrying her on his back as she half dozes, sleepy and headachy from the music.

Martin hasn't checked his phone in hours. He's still got the little flags crushed in his grip. Tim keeps trying to hide a bear pride flag on Martin when he's not looking, and giving a giggling squawking protestation whenever he gets caught.

It's been a good day. Martin's head is buzzy on shit cider, and he's lost his bowtie, but he keeps looking at his little flags and smiling.

It's been a really good day, he thinks.

Restored from their dramatic hangovers, Monday comes. Martin arrives huffing and delayed from the Tube to see Tim's stuck his flag so it stands battered and proud over the lid of his laptop. Sasha's made her small desk teddy bear hold hers. And it's the memory of the day, the sun and the heat and the wild dizzying lack of expectations of it all, that gives him the courage to bring the flags he carefully preserved in on Tuesday, to put them jutting out of the mug on his desk that holds his stationery.

Honestly, he doesn't expect anyone to comment on them. It's not like anyone else comes down to their offices anyway.

So it's a surprise when Jon, striding past their desks, stops. Looks at the  multicolour flag with its bent edging. Its sister flag, the stripes of grey, white and purple only a little sun-faded.

Tim has been lost to Archive Storage for hours now, Sasha hard cross-referencing over at another department. Martin always feels like he's failed some sort of test he didn't know he was taking, when he's in the room with Jon alone.

Martin stiffens but Jon just looks for  moment.

“Where did you get them?” he asks briskly, gesturing.

“Oh!” Martin says, relieved that Jon's not stopped to tell him how poor his filing skills are again. “It was, erm, Pride? At the weekend. Tim, he got some for all of us.”

“Hm,” Jon nods. Still staring at Martin's flags. Especially the one Martin had hesitated over, held that bit tighter in his grip. He has an expression on his face, but Martin doesn't know what it is. He rarely knows how to read Jon.

“I think Tim might still have some!” Martin says, anxious to add something in this interaction he doesn't quite know how to navigate. “If you – you wanted any of your own?”

Jon pauses, gives Martin a sharp look as though annoyed he'd mentioned it, but then his face softens, and he looks at the flags again.

“I'll ask him,” he says, giving a short, hard nod. “No need to disrupt him when he's doing something productive.”

“Right,” Martin says weakly.

Jon gives him another nod, and then he vanishes back into his office, leaving Martin unsure of what's just happened.

(Later that week, Martin sees the flags struck into the soil of Jon's beleaguered desk cactus. The blue, pink and purple flag like Tim's. The grey, purple and white flag like Martin's. He doesn't comment, doesn't think Jon would like the attention. But he smile to see it nonetheless).

[foxrunrootlings]

“Ah! A delicious looking muffinssi! Hm, it is for tea time. Not now.” As much as Unikko likes baked goods, he knows it’s not time yet. “The sweet and beautiful Miss Speck would be quite ah... hm... vihainen.... angry! Yes. Angry. She would be angry. No.” So away he goes.

“Ouhhh tasty! Look at this! I’m gonna go tell Lor we have a muffin today!” Frida almost always has but one thing, or rather one rootling, on her mind.

“Oh muffin! Sweet! Wait... is that coconut... is this thing supposed to be,” cue the cringe, “healthy!?” Quite disgusted by this prospect, away goes Basil.

Harmaa didn’t even see the muffin. She’s busy looking for her swords. But had she looked she might have noticed there is something amiss...

“Oh! I shouldn’t spoil my appetite early. This is for everyone to share. But... oh, it’s nothing.” Sweet Lorelei, too passive to even remark on troubles.

“Alright, time to get the muffin cut up and the tea m— wait... WHAT!?” Speck spots trouble right away and is shocked at the poor behavior of her fellow rootlings.

[mpdagda]

❛  why  are  you  here ?  ❜

"To sample?" Dagda blinked innocently, mouth slightly open, croissant midway to his mouth. His head cocks in interest, studying the demigod before him and his smile was warm, albeit a little bit secretive. "Are you the delectable owner of this fine establishment?" He taps the chocolate croissant now currently neglected on his plate. Granted, Dagda was currently sampling the croissant not at one of the customer tables around the Flower Mill, but he had strolled in through the back door into the kitchen, following the smell of baked goods. He was, for the lack of a better comparison, like a wayward raccoon rootling about.

"Dishh delicoushf" He said with a mouthful of pastry.

[rootedincuteness]

Poppyseed Pals

Resident Human: "Alright, lookin' good so far... and..."

Mudpie: "Baking without Mudpie?" Resident Human: *chuckles* "Oh, hello, Mudpie. How is it that you always seem to know when I'm making something sweet?" Mudpie: "Mudpie's ConfectionSense™ is tingling." Resident Human: "Well, if you want to have the privilege of eating the results, you have to help a little. You want to mix the batter?"

Mudpie: "Uh-oh. Muffin mix gone bad. Bugs in the batter. Batter bugs! Hehe..." Resident Human: "Those aren't bugs, those are poppy seeds. I'm making lemon poppy seed muffins and adding blueberries to them." Mudpie: "So batter's okay? Will be tasty?" Resident Human: "It's going to be very tasty. Go ahead, mix it up. It just needs a little bit more."

Mudpie: "No problem."

Mudpie: "Into cups!" Resident Human: "Yep, then we put in the blueberries."

Mudpie: "Mmm... tasty blurple-berries." Resident Human: *laughs* "Stop eating them all!" Mudpie: "Mudpie's quality assurance testing. Free courtesy service. Blurple-berries are hereby officially certified as tasty. You're welcome." Resident Human: "Uh-huh... I don't believe that for a second, but I'm glad you like them."

Mudpie: "Time for oven?" Resident Human: "Not quite yet. We have to put the streusel topping on first." Mudpie: "Ohhhh..."

Mudpie: "Now time for oven?" Resident Human: "I'm sensing some impatience here..." Mudpie: "Mudpie is merely time-efficient baking manager." Resident Human: *chuckles*

Mudpie: "Oooooh, smells heavenly. Pretty, tasty muffins..."

Resident Human: "They did come out lovely, didn't they? I'll have to put these into my regular baking rotation. They're making the entire house smell amazing."

Mudpie: "Mudpie was promised eating of results if help was provided..." Resident Human: "Yes, yes, we can eat some now." Mudpie: "Excellent. Mudpie approves this transaction." Resident Human: "Mandrake-sealed, rootling-approved?" Mudpie: "Precisely!"

[rootedincuteness]

Always Room For Pie!

( @itsthebeastpeddler, @knitwittykninja, @yourheartinyourmouth, @windpurr in response to this post. )

Resident Human: "Well, the votes are in... and the winner is... pumpkin pie!"

Mudpie: "Yay!" Halfred: "Aw, shucks."

Resident Human: "Don't worry, Halfred, we'll make pumpkin bread too in the near future. With raisins, just how you like it." Halfred: "Oh, alright then."

Resident Human: "Let's get started! I've got the pie mix right here."

Mudpie: "Doesn't look appetizing. Smells great, though." Resident Human: "It'll taste great too, trust me."

Resident Human: "Alright, here's the pie shell, and the eggs..."

Mudpie: "Mudpie doesn't do eggs." Resident Human: "Hmm... Yeah, Halfred? Can you prepare the eggs, please? Mudpie's a little squeamish."

Halfred: "Sure thing!"

Mudpie: "Ugggghhh...." *faceplants* Resident Human: "Mudpie, you were supposed to not look!" Mudpie: "Mudpie likes to live on the edge." Halfred: *giggles*

Mudpie: "Eeeeew..." Resident Human: "It's not mixed yet!" Halfred: "Patience is a virtue, Mudpie." Mudpie: "Mudpie's stomach doesn't care."

Resident Human: "There we go. Much better." Halfred: "Mmm, it smells delicious!"

Mudpie: "Pie shell, pie shell!"

Resident Human: "Alright, let's pop it into the oven!" Halfred: "Isn't it a bit... overfilled?" Resident Human: "Nah. It might overflow a little but it bakes down." Mudpie: "Less talking, more baking!"

Resident Human: "And... voila! Here's our pie, friends!" Mudpie: "It's more beautiful than Mudpie had even imagined..." Halfred: "And now the whole house smells like pie!"

Resident Human: "That's always an added bonus." Mudpie: "Let's eat!" Resident Human: "It has to cool first, or it'll break apart." Mudpie: "Nope!"

Halfred: "Welp. I guess we should have let it cool first." Resident Human: "I don't wanna say I told you so... but..."

Mudpie: "It's perfect. Messy but sweet. Just like Mudpie."

Halfred: *giggles* "It is really messy, though." Mudpie: "Mudpie can fix." Halfred: "How?"

Mudpie: "More sugar!" Resident Human: "Great idea, Mudpie! It's not pumpkin pie without the whipped cream, after all."

Mudpie: "No more crumbles!" Halfred: "Oooo.... Perfect!" Resident Human: "Well done, guys!"

Mudpie: "Now can we eat it?" Resident Human: "Of course we can." Halfred: "If you share your pie with me, I'll share my bread with you when we make it." Mudpie: "Mudpie approves this transaction." Halfred: "Yay!" Resident Human: "Enjoy, little buddies."

[rootedincuteness]

Sweet Endeavor

Ashleaf's Human: "Today, we're going to make some good ol' fashioned sugar cookies." Ashleaf: "Yeah!"

Ashleaf: "Wait... these are Christmas cookies..." Ashleaf's Human: "No they're not." Ashleaf: "The box has snowflakes all over it..."

Ashleaf's Human: "Dry mix lasts a really long time and your human is a little slow, okay? Now do you want cookies or not?" Ashleaf: "Point taken. It still smells good." Ashleaf's Human: "Of course it does!"

Ashleaf: "Wow, this is a really simple recipe. Is this all we need?" Ashleaf's Human: "Yep, that's it. Quick and easy."

Ashleaf: "Mmm, now it really smells good!"

Ashleaf: "You do that so well..." Ashleaf's Human: "Thank you, but I'm actually making a bit of a mess, haha."

Ashleaf: "They look perfect to me. Let's get 'em into the oven!"

Ashleaf: "And now, we wait. With a bit of melon liqueur, of course." Ashleaf's Human: "It is very tasty, especially when mixed with pineapple juice."

Ashleaf: "I prefer mine straight. It really is, though. What a wonderful way to pass the time. Real ladies drink while they bake, after all!" Ashleaf's Human: "I'm not sure that's a real requirement, Ashleaf, but... sure, why not?"

Ashleaf: *gasps* "Oh! They're perfect! And they smell heavenly, too."

Ashleaf's Human: "I agree. I think this was a resounding success."

Ashleaf: "And now we can eat them, right?" Ashleaf's Human: *chuckles* "Of course we can! We didn't make them just to sit and stare at them." Ashleaf: *giggles*

[rootedincuteness]

Halfway to Halloween, Part II

{ Continued from here. }

Kizzle: "It's after midnight! Did anything happen?!"

Resident Human: "It... looks like it actually might have." Kizzle: "All the cider is gone!"

Resident Human: "Yep, and so are the baked pears. And look, the tiger's eye is standing on end now. What does it mean?" Kizzle: *whispers dramatically* "A Halloween Guardian Spirit is here..." Resident Human: "Kizzle, you don't actually think-" Kizzle: "Of course I do! Who do you think came here and accepted all these offerings?!"

Resident Human: "Umm... Kizzle? What is that? I don't think we're alone..." Kizzle: *gasps* "Oh my gosh...!"

Kizzle: "Um. Excuse me? S-sir? Are... are you... a Halloween Guardian Spirit?"

Halloween Guardian: "Why yes I am! Was it you who summoned me?"

Kizzle: *gasps again* "You're... so cool! Oh, I mean, yes, I-I did, sir." Halloween Guardian: *chuckles* "Well, thank you. I'm happy to be here. What can I help you with?"

Kizzle: "Well, I... I've been so sad lately because it's springtime, you see... and... I love Halloween. I thought maybe you could help bring back that happy feeling of pumpkins and ghosts and crunchy fall leaves again."

Halloween Guardian: "Aw, don't fret little rootling. Halloween is always with you. It's right there, deep inside your heart. As long as you love it, it will never really leave you."

Kizzle: "Oh... ohh... You're right. I never thought about it like that before." *sniffles a bit* "Thank you, Halloween spirit. I love you."

Halloween Guardian: "I love you too, young rootling. Now what do you say we add some appropriate decor in here to spooky up the place? Hmm?" Kizzle: "I'd..." *sniffles and smiles* "I'd like that." Resident Human: "Awesome, I'll go dig through some Halloween boxes and we'll have a Halfway to Halloween party." Halloween Guardian: "That's the spirit!" Kizzle: "No, you're the spirit!" Halloween Guardian: *chuckles*

{ Miss Kizzaelea Ravynwood was made by @itsthebeastpeddler, and the Halloween Guardian was made by ThehouseofBoo on Etsy! }

[rootedincuteness]

Yellow and Blue Make Green

Resident Human: "Want to help me bake, little one?" Rooto: "Sure! What're we bakin'?"

Resident Human: "Lemon cake!" Rooto: "Can I eat lemon cake?" Resident Human: "You're a grass rootling aren't you? Haven't you ever heard of lemongrass?" Rooto: "I suppose. But won't it turn me all yellow?"

Resident Human: "That's what the blueberries are for. Yellow and blue make green, right?" Rooto: *giggles* "Gotcha."

Rooto: "W-w-wait! W-what's that?!"

Rooto: "Ahhhhh! It's a lawnmower! Grass' worst enemy! Run!"

Resident Human: "No, no, get back here... It's not a lawnmower, it's a mixer. It's for the batter." Rooto: "The-... Oh."

Resident Human: "See? It's to mix all the ingredients together." Rooto: "I knew that." Resident Human: *chuckles* "Uh-huh."

Resident Human: "Alright, it's nice and mixed..." Rooto: "Mmm... creamy..."

Rooto: "Do we put the blueberries in now?" Resident Human: "Yep!"

Resident Human: "There we go. An even distribution."

Rooto: "How'd I do?" Resident Human: "Um... hmm. You know what? Perfect. You did it perfectly." Rooto: "Yay!"

Resident Human: "These look excellent, don't you think?" Rooto: "Yeah! You can really smell the lemon, too."

Rooto: "It's time for icing!" Resident Human: "Definitely. You gotta have icing."

Resident Human: "Great job! Now that's a nice looking piece of cake." Rooto: "It sure is..."

Rooto: "But not for long..." Resident Human: *chuckles*

[rootedincuteness]

Today, Halfred and Morley set out to make a tasty dessert that’s actually halfway good for you too. No-butter apple lemon cake! It combines a simple cake recipe with apples, lemon juice, and lemon zest to create a tangy, fruity treat. There were some shenanigans going on, particularly when Morley wiped some flour on Halfred’s nose (or at least where his nose should be), but other than that, it was a very successful venture. The cake was delicious! This isn’t the first time these rootling lovers have baked something amazing. Maybe these two should go into business together! =)

[rootedincuteness]

It is a sad day here at the home of The Roots & Shrooms Gang, people. Today I had to inform all the excited rootlings and mushroom folk who were waiting for vegetables and beautiful flowers... that our garden had been decimated. Everything was eaten almost down to nothing, and most of the plants will likely not survive. All the leaves were eaten off the sunflowers, zucchini, squash, peas, and pumpkins. The wildflowers had their leaves and buds eaten and their stalks trampled. The red lilies... only one flower remains. The orange lilies had not even opened yet and had big beautiful buds... and now they’re gone and their stalks are broken. Everyone is just heartbroken. All our hard work, our excitement in waiting for the plants to grow and seeing the results of our labors, all the anticipation of breads and other tasties we might bake... gone overnight. Fernadette was the only one brave enough to go out and survey the damage, and by the end of our tour around the garden, I had to console her as she cried. I told her that we’d get to the bottom of who was responsible and try to do something about it, and in the meantime we’ll try second plantings for some of the plants. It’s very hot and very late into the season, so there are no guarantees that it will work, but at least it gave her hope.

To be continued...

[rootedincuteness]

Meet The Gang: Fernadette

FULL NAME: Fernadette MEANING BEHIND NAME: It’s the Fernish version of Bernadette. =) TYPE OF BEAST: A lovely lime-green-skinned, sky-blue-leafed fern rootling. GENDER: Female PERSONALITY: Fernadette is kind, helpful, encouraging, warm, and bubbly. She loves to cook and bake and cheer up her friends any way she can. She is also an environmentalist. OCCUPATION: Fernwitch... which is really more of a religious calling or a volunteer service, depending on what she’s doing BEST FRIEND: Graer RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In a committed relationship with Graer. FAVORITE COLOR: That special kind of new-sprout green. FAVORITE FOOD: Quinoa... and most fruits. FAVORITE SEASON: Spring FAVORITE HOLIDAY: Ostara LIKES: Gardening, botany, herbalism, flowers, insects, animals, and trees. DISLIKES: Insects that bite, late frosts or excessive heat that kills plants, invasive species that decimate plant growth, and mean people. PET PEEVE: When animals dig up and eat the bulbs or seeds she plants. CURRENT OBSESSION: Making loose-leaf teas from scratch... and giving them to Mog to taste-test. =)

[rootedincuteness]

Pilfering Demons

Pillomin: “Hello. Pillomin here. So... my crystal necklace went missing a couple days ago. You may have noticed I have not been wearing it.”

Pillomin: “Well... I believe I have found the culprit... and am closing in now.”

Pillomin: “Hey there, Loki. Nice day, isn’t it?”

Loki: “That it is, puny rootling, that is it.”

Pillomin: “It’s so sunny and warm... The sun is shining so brightly off of that nice crystal necklace you’ve got there.”

Loki: “Heh heh, yeah, I stole this off of some stupid sleeping rootli-... uh...”

Pillomin: “Yeeeeeah. I would like my property returned, please.”

Loki: “Welp, it’s mine now. Sorry.”

Pillomin: “Oh, I see. Well, then, you leave me with little choice. Let me just reach into my pouch here for my demon banishing powder...”

Loki: “Your... your what?” *backs up in fear*

Pillomin: “Yep. Gets rid of any unwanted demons, just like that!” 

Loki: “N-no need, young rootling. Heh heh... I was um... only playing a prank. Here, you can have the necklace back.”

Pillomin: “Thank you, kind sir.”

Loki: “See ya!” *flies away*

Ashleaf: “Is that really demon-banishing powder in your pouch, Pillomin?”

Pillomin: “Nah, it’s powdered sugar I borrowed from miss Morley. I plan to bake donuts later on today.”

Ashleaf: “Ooh, may I have one when you’re finished?!”

Pillomin: “Of course you may.”

Ashleaf: “Hehe, you got Loki good.”

Pillomin: “Merely a taste of his own clever medicine, Ashleaf my dear.”

[rootedincuteness]

Kizzle told Lady Rootbottom about the beautiful clematis flowers, and so she of course had to check them out for herself. She’s settling into her new home quite nicely, although she definitely does speak her little rootling mind a lot. I’ve already gotten lots of garden tips from her... and a few ways to improve upon my brownie baking. XD