#rooty float

[the-crazy-echidna-lady]

Normal Rooty doodle-

[kitchenutensilfamilyau]

Allen being an interactive dad finally yay rejoyce

[the-crazy-echidna-lady]

I have so many OCs so I'm just going to use Rooty ig. Rooty ofc doesn't think correctly 70% of the time as a kid, but she's also a King Dice fangirl because why wouldn't she be ofc she is. (That has been part of her since I rewrote her story in 2022, when the show finally came out.) Despise being a fangirl, she'd probably be a shit and answer all the questions like a smartass. She likes his music, not his gameshow, she doesn't even know how she fucking got there she just is. She probably even be like "lol no" about the mystery prize room. "Last time I was told there was a surprise or anything like that, I was missing my shoes when I woke up"

She thinks the questions are super dumb so easy a toddler could answer. (She definitely uses this against Cuphead when she find out)

Conversation starter for cuphead fans!

If your cuphead oc (or if you don’t have one, your favorite character) was on “roll the dice”, the game show from tcs, what would they be like? Would they be as dumb as cuphead? Would they try to flirt with the host? Would they lose their soul?

[smolnuggocs]

My Cuphead OC, Rootie Float! Had her since late 2017-early 2018.

She’s the Devil’s Casino’s bartender. She usually just likes to watch everything go kaput (she strongly dislikes the Devil, so it’s satisfying to her lol). Also, she has a gambling addiction.

[sparklings-husband]

I feel like sparkling would come home after a long day of work and pick up root beer and spin her around. Give her names like “my little Rootie” cause. Root bear. Idk he seems like the kind of dad to give cute little nicknames for his kiddo

also do you think root beer would consider uou or sparkling her ‘fav parent’?

(TRICK QUESTION! SHE LOVES BOTH OF HER DADS NO FAVORITISM!!!!!)

OH MY GOSHH spark would definitely call her cute nicknames like that 🥹 rootie.... omg waahwgwgah <3 he spins her and ruffles her hair playfully

AND OMG True. she loves both of us.. i heart her so much she's a sweetiepie and babby shaped <3 me and sparkling's fun babby <3

[zippy-reacts]

Sonic the Comic Liveblog: Issue 80

Ok it's something more visible in the main story art than this cover, but I've been wondering; is StC Super Sonic the first time Super was depicted with red eyes? In the games prior to Adventure 1, Super just had black eyes right?

Beautiful artwork of the emeralds. Also, hello Porker! I was under the impression you had retired from freedom fighting

Holy crap that is some very nice artwork for Sonic's hand

Ah right, I forgot Porker specifically went to live on the Floating Island Anyway, this is a very interaction between the two of them here. It's a nice instance of how you can have StC Sonic be considerate for his friends while still having a bit of snark.

Wooooo look at the colours on this panel! Stunning!!

This is really funny considering SA2 would later give Tails a rooty-tooty-shooty gameplay style

Ignoring Tails' forehead wrinkles, another absolutely stunning panel. I actually really want to try my hand at redrawing this; Amy at the very least if not the whole panel

The direction for StC Charmy still perplexes me

I shouldn't need to spell out that this is a Fantastic Four reference. I am highly intriguiged by the design of the one I assume to be Flare, going by the names

Anyway, another Tails story happened, and again, nothing to note.

Yoooo, Shortfuse! Great to see him again

With all due respect, why does Brutus have massive tits in this story?

There's an odd ballsyness to literally saying 'blame the artist' rather than trying to blow off the question with a joke like they normally do

[the-crazy-echidna-lady]

RAHH They're all so cute! I love how you did Rooty's expression, bitch looking at everyone like "ya'll weird" JSLDKF <3 Thank you so much!

MUTALS IN THE BLOG GIFT!!

1: @marvelousmockingbird2

2: @cutecrewmates-ask-ripcrewmatesau (myself so I trick you all!)

3: @marshmallow-biscuit-blog

4: @hey-imma-fangirl

5: @meow-artist-cat

[cherry-pop-elf]

“Sometimes, to make a day not so bad, you gotta cuddle someone warm and squishy!”

Look at my little baby Rootie! ((Short for Root Beer Float))

No matter what shape Georgie takes, I love my mans. But I won’t lie. Chubby boyfriends are hella hot. Just saying- 👀

[conshirtoe]

what made you name your cat root beer?

Well I have a strong liking for root beer, and root beer floats. But I think it says it all when I tell you I got her when I was in 6th grade. (I also thought she looked like a root beer float)

We were going to name her Jasmine and call her Jazzy for short. But my family settled on Rootbeer because we liked the nick name Rooty better. I’m glad we went with that because let me tell you, Rooty fits her perfectly!

[zhelin-thames]

The Fudge Courier

The Wayne Mansion was never exactly quiet, but the sudden crack of breached security systems and the high-pitched alarm was enough to cause a minor panic in the Batfamily group chat.

Everyone mobilized. Jason was halfway to the armory. Damian had his sword in hand. Steph already had a batarang between her fingers. Bruce was the first to reach the front foyer, cape trailing behind him dramatically, expecting an assassin, a rogue AI, or maybe Ra’s himself.

Instead, it was a teenager in a baggy hoodie and Converse, standing in the middle of the marble floor with a tray of fudge like he owned the place.

"WHERE IS THE OLD MAN?!" the intruder demanded.

Bruce raised a brow. "Now, I don’t think I’m—"

"NOT YOU! THE OLD MAN!" the teen snapped, eyes wild with exhaustion. “You don’t count. You’re like… diet old. Where’s the real deal?”

Before anyone could tase, tackle, or interrogate him, Alfred emerged from the dining room, adjusting his gloves with dignified calm. “Master Bruce, is there a—?”

He didn’t finish.

The fudge was shoved into his hands with the kind of reverence usually reserved for live bombs.

“Happy Father’s Day from Thomas and his wife.” The hoodie kid (ghost? gremlin?) looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “They haven’t stopped haunting me about it for weeks. I’m so tired. Please. Please tell me I can finally tell them that baby Brucie is fine and stop being their afterlife errand boy.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then Alfred—gentle, serene, forever composed Alfred—smiled. He even laughed, lightly, like this wasn’t a complete break in reality. “Yes, indeed. They are doing well. I am so terribly sorry to have put you in this position. Perhaps we can make it up to you by having you stay for dinner?”

Danny, hoodie gremlin in question, beamed like he’d just won the lottery. “Free food? Absolutely.” Then he glanced at the fudge. “Oh, right—It’s not poisoned or ecto-contaminated, FYI. Totally safe for normal humans and whatever brand of chaos you people are.”

He waved like this was a PTA meeting and followed Alfred into the kitchen like he hadn’t just broken into one of the most secure homes on the planet.

The Batkids stood frozen.

“Umm… Alfred, do you know this kid?” Dick asked carefully.

Danny turned to face them with a tired sigh. “Are you baby Brucie? Because I swear to the Ancients, if you are, I need to punch you. Like, lovingly. Ghost realm tradition. Don’t worry, it only hurts a little.”

A long silence.

Then Dick lost it, wheezing. “Nope! Nope, that’s not me—he’s behind you and probably wants to punch you now.”

Danny blinked, glanced back at Bruce, then offered a grin. “...Fair.”

Bruce stared at the tray of fudge in Alfred’s hands, then at the strange boy now comfortably parked on a kitchen stool. Then, very calmly, he pressed the panic button for the entire family. They were going to need back-up. And a full psych eval.

Meanwhile, Tim was already texting.

get here now bring Kon AND jon dinner’s cursed there’s fudge and ghosts and bruce has parents again???

The Phantom Courier had arrived. And dinner was going to be spicy.

Dinner at Wayne Manor was already chaos on a good day. Add in Danny Phantom, ghost errand boy of the dearly departed Wayne parents, and things got wild fast.

By the time the rest of the Batfamily arrived, Alfred had set the table like nothing strange was happening—because to him, nothing was. A guest was a guest, even if that guest had floated through a wall earlier and casually mentioned alternate dimensions.

Danny sat between Steph and Duke, legs criss-crossed in his chair, still wearing his hoodie like it was armor. “So anyway, it turns out if you make direct eye contact with the portrait of Martha Wayne at exactly 2:37 AM, she shows up and starts judging you for the dishes in the sink.”

Steph choked on her drink.

“You’re lying,” Jason said flatly.

“Swear on my core,” Danny grinned. “She folded my laundry. Folded it. But she also gave me this look like I was a raccoon rooting through the family fridge.”

“...She always did run a tight household,” Alfred muttered under his breath, pleased.

Tim, phone still in hand under the table, was quietly live-texting everything to Kon. Bruce hadn’t said much since Danny’s arrival, though he'd definitely tried to interrogate him mid-salad. Danny answered every question with equal parts snark and sincerity, and Bruce hadn’t known how to handle that since Nightwing’s teen years.

But the real kicker came after dinner.

Alfred brought out a lovely tray of tea and that infamous fudge. Everyone reached for a piece. Except Bruce.

Danny froze. Eyes wide.

“You’re not eating the fudge?”

“I don’t eat dessert,” Bruce said firmly, because of course he didn’t.

Danny paled—well, more pale. “Oh Ancients. You were supposed to eat it. That was like... half the haunting quota! I told them I shouldn’t be the one to deliver it, but nooo, I’m the ‘living representative’—"

Suddenly, the lights flickered.

A breeze swept through the dining room despite all the windows being shut.

Then—

A glow shimmered above the table, and two figures faded into view. Elegant. Ethereal. Slightly translucent.

“Bruce Thomas Wayne,” said Martha Wayne, voice calm but cutting, “You did not just ignore the dessert your father and I specifically requested be delivered for this occasion.”

Thomas Wayne crossed his arms. “We died. The least you could do is eat a single piece of fudge.”

Bruce stared at them, stunned. “...You sent the fudge?”

Danny waved his fork. “I told you. They’re relentless. I’ve never been hunted harder in my life—and I died.”

Jason was half under the table laughing. Damian stared at the ghosts with a mix of disbelief and awe. Dick was frantically signing do not punch them, do not punch them at Damian.

Martha floated closer, arms crossed like the world’s most disappointed PTA mom. “Your father and I have waited a very long time to share something—anything—with you again. And this young man was kind enough to help us.”

Thomas chimed in. “And he’s got moxie. You could use more of that in your life.”

Bruce cleared his throat, awkwardly picking up a piece of fudge. “...Fine. One piece.”

The lights settled.

The ghosts relaxed.

Danny slumped forward. “Thank the Ancients. I can finally go home and not have Martha materialize in my mirror telling me I ‘forgot the nuts.’”

Martha beamed. “Thank you, dear. You’re a delight.”

Then they both faded out. Just like that.

Silence.

“...So,” Dick finally said, “Do we do Father’s Day like this every year now or...?”

Tim texted Kon again.

fudge was ghost-coded bruce got mom’d from beyond the veil help bring backup

Tim’s texts didn’t go unanswered for long.

Kon: we’re coming Kon: jon says we should bring a gift Kon: is batman allergic to anything? Jon: (from Kon’s phone) my mom says you can’t show up empty-handed to a ghost-fudge dinner. I’m bringing lasagna.

Twenty minutes later, just as Alfred was prepping dessert plates and Danny was halfway through explaining what ghost zones were (with salt shakers), there was a knock at the front door.

A polite knock. One that radiated Midwestern kindness and super strength.

Bruce answered the door with the grim expectation of chaos.

Instead, he got Superman, Superboy, and Jon Kent holding a steaming glass dish wrapped in oven mitts.

“Hi, Bruce,” Clark said, smiling like this was a backyard barbecue. “Happy Father’s Day.”

“We brought food!” Jon added helpfully. “And napkins!”

Danny peeked out from behind Bruce. “...You brought napkins to a haunted fudge dinner?”

“Ghosts like etiquette,” Jon said with perfect sincerity.

Danny stared. “...I’m adopting you.”

Bruce groaned. “Why are you here?”

Clark gave the world’s most innocent shrug. “Tim said dinner was going great. And involved your parents. The ghost versions.” He looked very smug. “I couldn’t miss that.”

Tim popped out from behind a hallway arch, phone in hand. “For the record, you’re welcome.”

Danny barging into the wayne mansion wearing a hoddie and holding a tray of fudge.

"WHERE IS THE OLD MAN?!"

All the bats and birds panicing bc a random broke theu their security measures. Bruce being first to look at him"hey now, i dont think i'm~"

he gets cut off by Danny. "NOT YOU! THE OLD MAN!"

Alfred steps out of the dining room fixing his gloves and suit. Before he can speak danny shoves the plate of fudge in his hands"Happy fathers day from thomas and his wife. They have not stopped hounding me for weeks. And im tired. Please tell me i can say their baby brucie is fine." He says half pleading.

Alfred breaks a small smile before laughing lightly"yes indeed. They are doing well. I am so terribly sorry to have put you in this position. Perhaps we can make it up to you by having you stay for dinner?"

Bruce and the kids are glading ready for a fight unsure of how to interact in this moment."Umm Alfred, do you know this kid?" Dick asks breaking the silence.

Danny turns to him"are you baby brucie? Bc i swear to ancients i need to punch you and i hope you are an adult." Silence as crickets sounds before dick breaks down laughing."no he is behind you ready to punch you himself. Can umm you explain?"

Danny pauses thinking a moment before amiling"you offered me free food. I will gladly accept! Oh! That reminds me! The fudge isnt poisoned or ecto contaminated. So it is safe for normal humans to consume as well as whatever the hell you all are." He waves and follows Alfred theu to the kitchen.

Bruce panic buttons the rest to come home for dinner. This is gonna be a long night.

Meanwhile tim is texting Kon to being supes and jon with him to dinner tonight. Things are about to be spicy!

[the-crazy-echidna-lady]

some doodles (some of which I posted but)

[kitchenutensilfamilyau]

Hey boys got anyone you like or maybe have a little crush on??

Yes

[smolnuggocs]

Henchman: So, you three got kicked out of the movies? What for??

King Dice: Uhh, well—

Rootie: *irritated sigh* Devil was yelling diving scores during Titanic as people jumped off the boat.

Devil: *enthusiastically* That last guy had a solid 8, let me tell you.

[the-crazy-echidna-lady]

Rooty's fucking evil

KJLSDFKJLKJ THESE ARE SO CUTE the actual gay husbands not the bi ones XD I love these two so much already (for reference to viewers, Allen's 6'10 so Speyer isn't even really that short Al's just a fucking giant.)

@marshmallow-biscuit-blog said they should date so naturally

They’re very sweet

[ilovevillains]

Insides Kisaki's brain 🧠

WARNING: THE MUSIC VIDEOS MIGHT HAVE FLASH LIGHT EFFECTS.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SEXUAL THEMES, TOXIC THOUGHTS, STALKING.

Album: Tokyo Revengers Playlist

PRELUDE:

The day has come, here is the first playlist of my Tokyo Revengers playlist!

Kisaki, Kisaki, Kisaki... my king, my love... I'm not forgiving you, I love you, but I am not forgiving you.

I'm going to keep this intro short, because the long paragraph is reserve for the outro.

🧠 Now That I'm Wanting More, Koko

I know I want you I’m feeling obsessed It’s like in my mind I am being possessed

🧠 Every Breathe You Take, Chase Holfelder (cover)

Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take

🧠 eat u alive, Marian Hill

I been looking on, I been biding my time You been looking strong with a glint in your eye Everybody knows if I'm given the night I might eat you alive, I might eat you alive, yeah

🧠 Crystaleyes, AViVA

And when I wake into this dream I’m falling in and out of time Falling under, falling over Floating on the sky You face it when you’re going down Our planets won’t align

🧠 Unsmiling, Aunty Social

Knowing I could be the one To give you everything Is the issue Knowing I could give you shelter Just makes you feel beneath Someone’s the fool I—

🧠 Nightfall, Black Lilys

There you go in this crowd Never been satisfied There you dream days and nights Of the lover you'll never have Please tell me why?

🧠 Coming for You, Nuela Charles

I am coming for you So watch what you do I intend to be cruel to you and you Should watch what you do When my hands are on you 'Cause I'm, coming for you (and you and you and you

🧠 Paradise, The Neighbourhood

Sensations don't mean anything If I can't just have everything Some days I think I'll run away But what would I even do if I made it? I just keep on fading 'cause I never feel enough, it never fills me up I'm climbin' up a giant rock, I'll never reach the top But I can't stop, I can't stop, so

🧠 I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE, Måneskin

And I'm a killer Who's searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption

🧠 Pray, JRY feat. Rooty

Forget the words I'm saying I know that I've been cruel I pray for peace Tell me why don't you

OUTRO

Now it's the moment of the truth. Why do I love Kisaki? Kisaki is one intriguing character for me. I'm part of the group that believes he deserved a better development, but part of me is grateful he didn't have other motives, because I believe he could pull a Profesor Moriarty and Kisaki would have been unstoppable.

Another reason why I love Kisaki (and other villains) is that they are realistic. In the manga, Kisaki knew who he was and what was his roll in the live [trama] of the world he was living. When I read that specific panel I could not stop myself from loving him more. Even though his reason weren't good, his attitude of keep going on to achieve his goals it's what I really love and adore of him (and Takemitchy and other characters, my other kings, I love them too). I guess that's how I love my kings: determine to achieve their goals ♥.

Remember that next week we have Hanma's playlist... stay tuned for the playlists! Take care and keep fighting for that dream (or maybe those dreams) ♥

-Villain Lover🖤

[this-is-a-dystopian-parable]

"i can call him up and tell him what i want!

Jesus.mp3

(first im gonna tell him, again, how i love glorious sound; the tambourine forever convulsing, the concertina and horns in stereo imperfect mirroring, the full stop || to announce the entrance of guitars. the church bells, and beautiful beautiful the one man who comes in wrong towards the end but everyone smiles through. thump thump hit your foot on the floor and all this worry goes away. and ry cooder isnt even really supposed to be cool, is he?)

am i sick? do i want to get well? is such a goal possible? i am goalless, theres just thump thump this beat, and merely attending to each new downbeat, thats what im going to do. after every hit of the drum there another one coming up. on it. right now im riding fast through midnight a slipper of ice, and the walls of night are a million cymbals suspended and waiting for my playful picket fence stick. im hitting more than ever...abandon the metaphor for a moment and revel in the quotidian count, ive got 7 plays lined up for the first 6 months of next year, and i am thrilled psychedelic sick about each and everyone. listen: a cabaret, a song played on a solo saxophone, a train to catch, a gun goes rooty toot toot, russian rock n roll beamed into outer space, prayer both silent and full, and finally a birth of light. i must be fucking crazy. i must be! am i sick? do i want to get well? these seven bursts of metal with wonderful souls talent so beautiful, none of them will be the single goal, each night will be another cymbal sizzle crash through starlit wind flying past me as im riding so recklessly down the hill, weaving past cars technicolor lit, and its going to blur in the speed to just one stream of light pouring out exhausted. i love the challenge, the sleepless push to hit every next note, keep playing, keep going, i want it.

i can call him up and tell him what i want!

do i want more than this? im making a living at it now. im paying the rent on these outbursts now; and the people are good, everyones mind is reeling in another way and i love the laughs each one gives me. how can i ever come close to knowing them all? is there room for me? do i want more than them? maybe, maybe. real success, that elusive flame of fame, ha ha my musical opening on broadway in 2007, my god, why not, why not. i can call him after all, and ask him for this, right? what i want. what i want.

when the whiskey veil wears away for just a second i look down at my hands and they are white knuckled for im freezing cold causing im going so fucking fast and i forgot my gloves or i lost them in a bar on mission street or in the bart station, but i cant go back because i jumped the gate, i jumped the gate again almost every day a bart train renegade heart racing fast everyday but i cant remember right now. i must be crazy. there are so many things to wrap your hands in anyway...and look at her with her mittens fingerless, and her with her hat fizz fuzz blue, and her with her legs i can see fishnet stockings, garter and all, under a wider fishnet hose, that lovely leg all wrapped twice. every woman around me wrapped up different and my fingers trembling no matter where or when for a little more warmth, a fabric new always, why? why? i must be crazy wanting that when ive already got those eyes to get so lost in that temperature vanishes like direction in the dark, floating through centigrade in a shivering sweat flawlessly true. i must be crazy, but i can ask him, what i want, what i want.

i dont want anything, i dont. god, please i dont. please let that be the truth. cause ill get so sad if i want it and dont have it and ive got so much right now that im almost blind. i can be what i want to be/i can choose whatever heaven grants. but i just want to be whatever heaven grants, any cymbal so bright and lovely to be seen when im riding fast like this, god its like a new moon gold in the sky! crash a cymbal that i want to hear ring clear, crash peel, i want to hear them PEEL!

and i fear the shallowness, maybe theres too much and im not there deep where i could be. theres someone ive known as long as possible in real pain and i cant understand it really, cause i felt real pain once and said never again? no, surely not? that was so little...

but solo now so: lo the cymbals,

only the cymbals and my bike out of control too fast, but god theyre so glorious shiny! ive been working on riding no handed so i can grab a stick in both hands and catch my ears in the nodes and hear a mountain range valley strange of waves in the cold night air.

one asked me, why do i perform? i cant answer you, i cant. i have no idea. its what im here to give? its just there and its beautiful and thats all i can do. maybe im doing too much? i can barely feel.

tomorrow ill make the drummer a vegetable lasagna in exchange for a haircut, god my hair is so long, its the only helmet ill wear. i know how to make a good vegetable lasagna; i just have to pick the right vegetables, and only a few, so that its about *mushrooms*, or its about *broccoli*, its about the *one* taste, dont lose it, dont lose it//

(but on cannery row hazel pours all the half drunk drinks into a single jug, and comes home with a wild punch maybe champagne spiked one night and fernet the next. one taste.

i have no idea what all of this tastes like,

i have no idea what god looks like,

i have no idea how there can be so many sounds in the universe that when i open my mouth next time ill sing one brand new song, once and only once always one note to the next never ending, never goal, just sound all the way SHHHOOM! to the end of the universe getting absorbed by all around it cymbalstars bursting and dying brand new)"

Dave Malloy, 09 December 2005