#circus anon

[t-the-ring-master]

This will be made as a male reader mostly because I feel like there isn’t enough with female characters and I just want dad character to Brightbill. However, feel free to imagine it as however you like, they are robots so not much happening in that area, so do what you like. And please make sure to salt your purple next time, gives it flavor.

If anyone wishes to be tagged in any future The wild robot posts or anything else, please comment, ask through ask box or just message me!

Imma try and ask C if she can draw T as a Rozzum one of these days. I also wrote this over like an hour. My face hurts so not as long as I wanted it to be but oh well. Hope you enjoy!

I also just added the last part for fun. Also if someone wants to request a continuation of this.

TW: none? No use of Y/N, I use (Name). Mentions of mates and partners I guess? Everyone ships you with Roz I guess.

Request: circus anon

Requests: open

Taglist: @cs-cabin-and-crew @the-lavender-clown

❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦

Roz x Robot!reader

You had crash landed in the woods. Your metal package and your transmitter to contact your built site had been damaged as well.

So you decided to try and find the person whom had ordered you.

Yeah that didn’t go well.

You had been kicked, attacked, chased and more within just the span of 6 hours before giving up and sitting in learning mode to fix the language barrier you’ve found yourself trapped in.

Due to being in learning mode, you hadn’t been paying enough attention to your surroundings, causing you not to notice the Rozzum unit analyzing you.

Fink: what is it Roz?

Roz: it seems to be a Rozzum unit, but I cannot tell the number nor model.

Yeah you scared them when you came out of your learning mode.

(Name): hello! I am the new and improved (Name) Unit: 0001. I am a one of a kind prototype! Here for any needs or demands!

Fink: I’m getting flashbacks.

Roz lead you to her, Bightbill and Finks home. She hadn’t ever seen your model before, so she excitedly asked you questions.

Roz: I’ve never seen your make or model. What are you designed for?

(Name): I am designed for many things. Cooking, shopping, manual labor, heavy lifting, childcare-

Roz: child care?

(Name): indeed, is this something that interests-

Roz: I have a kid.

(Name):…. Alright.

She proceeded to bombard you with questions on what your childcare program provided, which as per your programming, complied.

When you arrived to the home of the Rozzum, she led you inside and began showing you baby pictures of her “kid”

(Name): this is your child?

Roz: yes, he is called Brightbill.

(Name):…. He has your eyes.

You ended up staying with Roz, Fink, and eventually Brightbill when we returned for the spring.

It took a lot of getting used to the fact that you could no longer follow protocol here. But at least some of your programming helped you and the others a bit.

Such as you being more stronger than the Rozzum, as well as having better and hardier equipment than the other models. Fink definitely appreciated your heating mode (which is often used in your caregiver function to help a baby fall asleep) during the harsh winter…. And so did many of the other animals.

Pink tail likes you, since you watch her kids when she needs a break.

Pink tail: you found a good mate Roz. Possums aren’t so lucky when it comes to that.

Roz: what do you mean?

Pink tail: some of us don’t have life mates. (Name) seems to be a pretty good parent though.

Roz: Mate?

Que Roz studying “mate’ and “partner” which rabbit holed her down into “Spouse” and so on.

Fink ships it.

Brightbill ships it.

Pink tail…. You guessed it. Ships it.

Que all the animals trying to keep you two together.

Pink tail: Hey, Roz. (Name) is looking for you!

Fink: hey (Name) I think Roz wants to ask you more questions about your programs. I think she’s at the beach.

Brightbill: hey mom, (Name) wanted me to tell you he’s at the beach.

And so on.

Yeah you both confused by it all.

Eventually you two do end up spending some time together. Actually it was where Roz first met Pink Tail. You were busy analyzing some of the plants around you (as per your programming to search plants in case they have useful properties or are dangerous) while Roz sat there observing.

You two had a good time…. Ignoring the fact that a certain Fox and goose were stalking the two of you.

A couple weeks later, Brightbill let it slip and called you dad. You didn’t mind.

At this point you’ve become just as much as a wild robot as Roz has. And we’re very useful to your new family as you were able to repair minor things for yourself and Roz, which made it easier during winter.

You now also have your own picture with the rest of the family.

The other animals like you, you just kinda have a reputation of being more aloof and less soft compared to Roz.

Unless it’s the young… you are shockingly good with young. (As if you weren’t programmed to take care of them-)

The next winter, you had found an egg and brought it home.

Roz: here we go again.

Brightbill:…. Well I was upset at not having siblings-

[real-total-drama-takes]

My total drama take is that people need to calm down about which ship or character is better than any other ship or character and that you dont need to punch down other people to prove your blorbo is the best. Like all of us are goin crazy over some animated characters. Who cares who the bigger clown is we're all at the same circus ya know? Everyone hold hands.

-🎪

[pouletpourri]

woe, girlies be upon ye

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[miguxadraws]

Only just realized swap Pomni has a white button up and isn't jjst shirtless under there LOL

can you imagine lol

[bunnyjesters]

How would Pomni react if she sees Jax abstracting or having a breakdown from corn? Like if Caine one day puts them in a corn maze as a game and Jax begins breaking down or panicking?

(It’s canon that Jax doesn’t like corn because it reminds him of farms I’m pretty sure)

part 1

got inspired by a few anons, not gonna clean this up for my own sanity lmfao.

[serendippertyy]

D2 abstrabbit with Zooble protecting Jax having a panic attack in a corn field :(

zoobie can be a real sweetheart 🫶

[bananafire11]

if its no trouble could you draw a balding jax? :o i would love to see him balding from the top of his pretty purple head!!! just specifically on top of it thank you

I... hope i delivered

[hornyharpy]

I love your art! 💞, can you please do more Jax x Ragatha?? 💘

Damn bro chill-

+ someone asked for Gangle. She's hard to draw...

[sunseed-fandump]

Would… would the costume set storyline be about a worst case scenario where Shadow Milk… wins?

Costume Set: The Liar's Circus

"CRASH! BOOM! BANG! The circus is in town! These three little tricksters put on a fantastic performance wherever they go, but trouble often follows them! They say they only want to have fun and bring smiles to everyone's faces, but is that just a lie? CRASH! BOOM! BANG! Wondrous magic tricks from the young Apprentice light up the night air. Beautiful melodies sung by the Performer enchant all who hear her. Thrilling dough-chilling feats from the brave Acrobat make the crowd go wild! CRASH! BOOM! BANG! But who is the mysterious Ringmaster of this circus? None have ever seen him. Yet when trouble arises, the three young performers are always quick to say it was their friend the Ringmaster playing pranks again. Who is He? Does He even exist? Or are the trio just lying so they don't have to take responsibility? CRASH! BOOM! BANG! Another performance, given. Another town, destroyed. Another day at the Liar's Circus."

[t-the-ring-master]

If possible I was thinking either headcanons or a one-shot (whichever you think would fit better) with Ahkmenrah where reader was a peasant/servant and they started seeing/dating each other in secret. Then the museum is getting a new mummy and it's reader and there's a fluffy reunion. Thank you!😄

Ooooh! Yep! Definitely doing this! Thanks for the request! 😊

[an-albino-pinetree]

I’m gonna post this now, since tonight I’ve been invited to my first ever real party, and won’t be around for any night time celebration! <:]

2024 wasn’t a great year again lol. I didn’t face near the amount of hardship I did in 2023- but, while that year, I was facing severe and scary change, with my family, I spent most of this year feeling stuck. I was tired, and I don’t think I’d properly healed from the year before. All I can really owe to it, was the wonderful people I met on here, and the personal growth I had, in my art and otherwise. However, I have a very good feeling, about 2025, and think some positive changes are in order. It’s time to start moving forward, and taking control of this life of mine again. :]

Happy New Year, and thank you to you all 💚

@sm-baby

@starryyskies

@starryytales

@bat-anon

@etanow

@endomentendo

@serendippertyy

@thescarletnargacuga

@gummy-axolotl

@cherriisodapop

@miraclecherryblossomsblog

^ (your support on my posts has been insane, holy crow, thank you so much! ;v;)

[pouletpourri]

can we see more jesteribbon interactions? (love your art btw 💖💖)

gangle asks pomni a important question

[toastystroodly]

some tadc memes

[hemlock-dreams]

have you drawn Wade breaking the fourth wall? bc wouldn't Wade know that Peter Parker is spiderman if he could?

love ur art btw, this AU has me obsessed

I feel like Wade's 4th wall breaking has usually been used for more comedic effect than to glean plot-critical information- otherwise he'd also know Peter's identity in the comic books.

I haven't drawn him breaking the fourth wall (as that and the boxes are not my favorite gimmick) but I have referenced him thinking things like "a group of mercs off-screen" to indicate that he's aware of the medium he's in!

[ask-jax-things]

”just going to inform you, your wish was overwritten by @askyourauntierosie”

NOOOO—

I CALL TO THEE ALMIGHTY MOE