#dysfunctional family circus

[trouserchili]

[grandma-susan]

:: As Sir Pentious once said. "You whores have no class!" Dysfunctional Family Circus was a great parody comic strip to The Family Circus and the humor is in line with Hazbin.

Another day, another RadioApple drawing that absolutely no one asked for

Original:

[chloesimaginationthings]

This is why Michael doesn't scare Elizabeth in FNAF

[dreamweave01]

I cannot for the life of me remember if I've ever posted anything for my TADC AU on Tumblr or not.

Hmmmmm. . . . . .

Oh well.

*Edit: I looked back and I HAVE posted like ONE OTHER THING but nothing else :')

[nonipunssif]

Caine and Kinger when someone steals their son's lollipop/Caine y Kinger cuando alguien le roba su paleta a su hijo:

Caine: We're going to beat that guy, Komediya. / Vamos a golpear a ese tipo, Komediya.

Komediya: YES! / Si!

But Kinger.... / Pero Kinger...

Kinger: Seriously? Are you so weak that someone steals from you? You're pathetic, Zuur. / ¿En serio? ¿Eres tan débil que alguien te robó? Eres patético, Zuur.

Komediya/Zuur: S-sorry dad.... / P-perdón papá...

(The little boy has two names, the first is "Komediya" [his favorite and the one that Caine gave him], and the second is "Zuur" [He got that one from Kinger, but he doesn't like it])

(El niño tiene dos nombres, el primero es "Komediya" [su favorito y el que le dio Caine], y el segundo es "Zuur" [ese fue de Kinger, pero no le gusta])

[runelocked]

we both know you're leaving. you just don't want to say it yet. / from mike!

FOR A MAN WHO ALWAYS HAS AN ANSWER, THE RESPONSE OF SILENCE IS TELLING. William can’t really deny it — refuses to be a hypocrite, hypocritically — but stubbornly can’t admit to it either. Yes, he’s leaving. It’s their final meal together, the Last Supper, he thinks a tad hysterically, suppressing the urge to laugh . . . And he’s been trying so hard to keep his intentions hidden. Setting down his cutlery, he wonders if making a three course meal had been the giveaway. Or maybe just the fact he’d chosen to spend time with his only remaining child without arguing or fighting.

Perhaps Mike just knows him so damn well. That thought is simultaneously gratifying and terrifying.

“ If you already think you know, then clearly I don’t need to say anything. ” He forces out through uncomfortable lips, eyeing the remains of his cold dinner rather than his son. His suitcase is packed in his room. There is nothing left for him here. Just Michael, who might be better off without him anyway. “ You seem to have convinced yourself that I am leaving. Would anything I say sway that ? ”

[fulltimecatwitch]

why is being the oldest child in a dysfunctional family so exhausting ? i try to enjoy myself everytime i go out with them but i return so stressed every time 😭

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Things I think about late at night

-discowing was Dicks dads costume

-the mullet everyone cracks jokes about (same) was given to him my mirage

- the OG Robin costume was based on his parents and his circus costumes and now it’s black, gray and orange

- Jason Todd’s biggest fear is not living up to Dick Grayson (in Bruce’s eyes)

- Damian Wayne’s biggest fear is disappointing Dick Grayson

- DC tried to make Dick and Donna a thing (no..just no)

-Dick and Damian both have a compulsive need to pick up strays (is this Bruce’s fault or did they bond over this?)

- Tim Drake is so cool in the comics and I wasted so many years hating him cuz fanon Tim is a lil bitch boy

-Jason Todd is such a loser in canon but it works so well on him god damn

-I’m actually rlly annoyed that Steph is never a contender for nightwing I think she’d do rlly well tbh

- Steph’s backstory is way sadder than Tim’s we should absolutely talk about it more

-Lian Harper :(

-Tim is so funny when he’s just some dude who ADHD hyperfixationed his way into a “I got adopted by my favorite band” y/n self insert fic except the band was a collection of deeply unstable people who fight crime and also happens to have an IQ of 180

-

This image

- the fact that Bruce and Dick/Damian/Tim have a deeply dysfunctional relationship and I need them in family therapy

- Cass isn’t actually Bruce’s favorite she’s just the one that should be.

- the fact that Jason Todd canonically likes Dick Grayson and doesn’t like Nightwing

- the fact that Donna and Stephanie Brown aren’t friends and have never had a run together in canon (they should be- give me mentor-mentee vibes fr ong)

- Damian wants to become a doctor like his grandfathers and his mom <3

-the fact that Dick missed a solid portion of Damian’s development if you consider both spryal and the Ric arc to have happened in the same timeline

- Dick stole Bruce,babs and Damian’s super

- Garth, Dick and Donna are a sliding scale of blue to black costumes (they come in a set!!!)

- the fact I don’t have enough Dick and Garth fanon and canon content

- Jason/ Red hood needs an iconic establishing story like Nightwing year 1. I feel like Dixons Grayson is so easy to reference as like the “standard Grayson” before you add all the other (imo better) stuff from other future runs and tbh I don’t think Jason has any (if you disagree gimmie some recs)

- the fab 5 are called that in canon

- Garth didn’t have any friends pre joining the OG titans

- nightwing is on every Pride cover every damn year and he hasn’t kissed Roy or Wally yet? Sir? Plz

- Wally lost his wife and children multiple times in canon

- young Roy was bitter and wanted to compete with Robin!Dick but adult Roy wants to punch Bruce in the face bc he realizes bby Grayson was so abnormal

[ladyrosemone]

The Other Side Of Paradise

Using Google Translate here! 🗣‼️‼️ This is an intermediate of part one, as the Batfamily's point of view just like you had yours, official part two coming soon! Also my question box is open (I think) and without further ado, enjoy the read! (Thanks for enjoying the read 😭🫶🏼)

Tw!: Profanity (use of prostitute as a derogatory insult), murder, murder scene described, negligence.

Tag List: @tsuniio, @simpingpandas, @dakotali, @softycheol.

Dick is always first.

The first child acrobat of the circus, the first son of Bruce Wayne, the first Robin, the first brother, the first everything.

And he was proud of that, from being an orphan to the pride of Gotham it was not an easy path and much less a happy one, but amidst so much pain and loss he is grateful for having a constant; his family.

Dysfunctional and somewhat shaky, where violence and beatings are the language of love, they find comfort in knowing that they have each other.

He has Alfred as his honorary grandfather, who is the wisest person he will ever meet again.

Bruce, who even with his flaws is his father, who gave him a chance and never abandoned him, making him the man he is today.

Jason, the most distant but beloved of his brothers, knows that he can always count on him and his strength at all times.

Tim, his chair boy, his best confidant, and the best detective in the world, trusts him with his life over anything he can't find.

And Damian, his little brother, his favorite boy in the whole world, the Robin to his Batman, what he wouldn't do for his sharp-tongued brother; even when he came to the mansion threatening and stabbing everything, never gave up on him and the result was completely worth it.

His sisters are also dear to him; Stephenie and Cassandra are strong and independent, but also loyal and loving. Barbara may not be a sister -she still has her father- but she has earned a place in the family and is considered sister as much as Steph and Cass.

Of course he will never leave Duke behind, the newest, the ray of sunshine among them all, he expects great things from him.

Dick is always first.

Dick is the last one to remember you.

Jason hates remembering his life before the well.

He doesn't want to forget, there are memories that still keep him sane; his mother, when Bruce adopted him, his first patrol as Robin. You.

But if it were up to him, he would never talk about them again or even acknowledge their existence. They are chains that bind him, quicksand that make him sink whenever he tries to move forward and personally he is fed up.

Because no matter how many villains he catch and how many more kill, how many people save, nothing will take away the guilt of not having saved that person. Don't save you.

Of not finding the strength in himself to look for you now, because for you, there is nothing but shame and shame for himself. The first friend he had, the first brother he had, his first great loss, his only great regret.

Jason hates remembering his life before the well.

Jason hates being the first to discover your new identity.

Tim is a genius.

Genius falls short, his brain works like a computer within a computer within another; Wires instead of neural conduits and electricity instead of energy is what happens in that brilliant brain of yours.

He was never an ordinary person, he is ambitious and resourceful, intelligent and determined to get what he wants.

That started with the mantle of Robin.

When Jason was still in the portrait, he wanted to be part of the duo; He trained and prepared, ready to help from the Batcave until the Joker thing happened. And even when it felt bad to carry the title of the bat's henchman, he felt proud that his perseverance took him to the top.

And it was the beginning of his destiny.

Robin, Red Robin, the robin's mantle is and will be a part of him that he will never let go, but he is also the one who remembers every detail of every case of every villain of every attack in Gotham, is the one they turn to when they need to confirm exact information. Nothing escapes him, ever.

Tim is a genius.

Tim passed you by and lost.

Damian is the perfect heir.

His father is the most powerful man in Gotham and Batman himself, his mother is a skilled and lethal assassin, daughter of a dynasty of the world's fiercest assassins, and he is the result of the cross between the two.

He is perfect.

That is why he will never deign to look down on the unworthy; Richard is fine, Jason is worthy because served his mother and grandfather, Tim still doubts it, women are strong allies and that new boy has potential. Alfred and his father, of course, are worthy of his obedience.

And you? You are worse than a disappointment.

A stain, a mistake, someone who should never have existed, rotting his perfect legacy, you should be thankful he didn't kill you when he had the chance.

It's not that you deserve it, you don't deserve anything from it.

You are so insignificant to him that not even in his dreams did he worry about your whereabouts, of course he knew that you were no longer there, he had to watch you in case you stole something when you left like the thieving prostitute who was probably your mother, but when you did not return, he felt triumphant for having taken care of -without killing- the family problem.

Damian is the perfect heir.

Damian feels like his throne means nothing in front of you.

Bruce is a father.

He never considered himself one, maybe he wanted it once, when his own father was alive to learn from him, but that dream died when his people did it in the alley.

Despite everything, he tried to be a father to Dick, and his efforts, although questionable, worked. Then Jason with his bright eyes and bubbly personality, taken away too soon, let go too soon.

Even now, so near and so far, it is his greatest loss as Batman, as Bruce Wayne.

Tim was...complicated; arrived when he had not overcome his grief and treated him in the most atrocious way he had ever imagined treating his children. Still, he proved to him time and time again that was more than expected.

Damian was unexpected of an unexpected union; son of Talia Al'Ghul and grandson of Ra's Al'Ghul, he awaited a bloodthirsty and indomitable child. Which started badly ended well, his youngest son is on his way to writing his destiny far from his ancestry, and in his heart knows that did the best he could.

Barbara, although not their daughter, is part of their family, Stephenie and Cassandra are their beloved daughters, and Duke is officially their new son.

Bruce is a father.

Bruce is not your father.

Do others really have a voice in this narrative? You barely remember them, you barely knew them, much less you care about them. Yes, even Alfred.

"I don't understand, there's nothing more" Tim murmurs, looking at the images on the Batcomputer, reading the documents at the same time, his eyes bloodshot and his fingers trembling from the coffee laced with an energy drink that just drank "There must be more"

"You searched enough, you should get some sleep" Barbara intervenes, in her wheelchair "I'll cover you"

"No, there's something I'm overlooking" he insists "I know, I just have to look carefully"

"Tell me it's not that thing again" Jason complains, arriving at the Batcave with his Red Hood suit on, barely removing his helmet.

Dick nods, his usual smile not drawing his face, just a grimace "We're close to finding it, just...something's missing"

The image is clear; a party room, with people dancing and laughing, as precise as a painting but recent that appeared in the newspaper. All of these people are families of dangerous underworld groups.

Lords of drugs, weapons and human trafficking, ex-convicts and people who work for villains are...enjoying the party.

It wouldn't be relevant if it weren't the photo before the tragedy.

⚠️ Description of crime scene, bodies and blood under the cut ⚠️

All of them, women and men, young and old, nothing more than a combined mass of blood and bones, guts scattered on the walls and decorations of the room.

The floor, the stairs, everything contaminated, women's bodies -which were getting smaller, then only limbs such as arms, hands and finally, fingers- arranged on the main staircase. They all point to something;

⚠️End of scene⚠️

A painting.

In the two photos, the painting of a house is what steals the attention; nothing special, nothing grand, just a painting of a gray wooden cave house, with the background of a distant city and without a signature, almost overlooked as another photo if it weren't for the canvases and the paint under his fingers when he touched it.

In both photos the painting is at the top of the stairs, in both the light was shining on them and in both it draws attention before anything else.

Why? What does it mean? What does it tell them?

"There must be something more than that, hidden among the corpses" says Damian, the most obsessed -besides Tim- in discovering the identity of the one who, for months, has left them clues after helping them anonymously, only a pseudonym in your name; The Savior.

Or that is how those who bring your messages to them have referred to you, speaking of you as a Saint, a savior among men, God himself who came down to protect them.

And they can't let that continue.

They must know if you are dangerous, if you are a potential threat or potential ally. They must discover you.

Alfred arrives with more coffee, because he knows his words won't be heard at that point; When the family becomes obsessed with something, they hardly let it go until they get their fill of it.

His eyes pursue that house; small and misaligned, painted in a very specific way, too specific.

Jason doesn't like to remember the past.

"Wasn't there a phantom surcharge on the accounts months ago?" He says in a low voice, almost lost if the echo of the cave had not returned the word to him.

"There are many like that" Tim murmurs without thinking about the matter "Hey-!"

Jason pushes him aside, typing furiously and searching through files, searching and searching remembering remembering until...A contract, simple and almost empty, with a late date and an unknown signature, the name blank but with an address and a photo; the photo of the painting.

The house.

"How did you...?" Tim was surprised, looking at that contract as if he had never looked at it before, reading carefully, sleep and fatigue fleeing his body.

Bruce looks on without speaking, but those who know him know that a war of insecurities is raging inside him; How did it happen? Who was it? When did do it? Has access to all he private accounts? Do has know their identities?

The clue has been revealed, the answer discovered, and the game is just beginning.

"I think it's time to arrange the pawns on the chess board" you say in your luxury suit, the highest in the tallest building in Gotham, looking at the flashing lights that fill the streets, looking at the outskirts of Gotham, looking at your next move, looking at the wide-screen camera that's embedded in the painting's window.

[manicpixiemeatboy]

Dysfunctional Summers Family Circus ft. Logan.

[fuzzandfeathers]

Rambles about portraits and Octavia

So I spent a lot of time staring at this shot while I was working on art

Especially the portraits (even though I didn't draw them) and there was one in particular that really caught my eye:

This is a bit long so I'll stick my thoughts under the cut:

This portrait fascinated me because I couldn't recall seeing one like it anywhere else. We rarely (maybe never? I'm not sure) get portraits of Stolas and Stella together without Octavia and this one stuck out to me because of the posing - Stella is full-on leaning into Stolas's space, and it's often tough for me to tell when Stella is genuinely smiling with her beak, but there's unmistakable joy on her face (and poor Stolas looking so uncomfortable). At first I almost wondered if this was meant to be an indication of Stolas trying harder to fit into a mold early in their marriage, be more like the type of Prince and husband Stella expected (and that might still be the case to a degree). But then I remembered we're actually in Octavia's mind/songscape, so these portraits more likely reflect how she sees her family. These could represent what she wants her family to be, but... I kinda wonder if instead they show what Octavia thought her family already was. We know from The Circus that Stella's mistreatment of Stolas was happening before he met Blitz. But I don't think Octavia knew. In Loo-Loo Land, Stella and Stolas are making no efforts to hide their dysfunctional marriage from her, but some of her statements later in the episode when she's having her heart-to-heart with Stolas ("Home doesn't even feel like home anymore, you ruined it." "When I was a kid and my parents didn't hate each other...") to me indicate that this dysfunction is somewhat new to her, a regular occurrence by that episode (as she doesn't bat an eye at the thrown plant), but not a long-term thing that she's accustomed to, and she immediately connects it with her father flirting with Blitz. I wonder if Stolas was actually doing a great job at hiding the cracks in his marriage - until Blitz came into the picture and suddenly he lost his grip on the facade. It would certainly help explain why Octavia repeatedly pins blame on Blitz, specifically, for their issues and why she's not as quick to place blame on her mother - from her perspective everything might've been fine until her father cheated, and her mothers aggression comes across as legitimate upset instead of long-term abuse. No idea how true any of this is, just some possibilities I was mulling over! Either way she and Stolas desperately need an honest conversation 😭

[trouserchili]

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Snake dance for emperors

Emperor Geta/Caracalla x fem!reader

warning : dysfunctional family, tried comfort (as much as this is possible with these two), kissing, use of dagger, smutish, some touching, written before the movie comes out characters may be different at the end

summary : With the Colosseum, other types of entertainment come to the Empire of Rome. Not only acrobats and actors but also animal tamers and especially the agile snake dancer with cobras slithering along her body caught the attention of the two most powerful men in the world. So what happens when you're in a room with poisonous animals, pressure to perform and two emperors?

info : I just love them can't wait to see how they are in the movie. I'm not fully satisfied, it was supposed to be something else (more smut) but now it is what it is I hope you like it anyway:)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rome, the empire of history past versus present and future. A place of aspiration, arts and philosophers who passed on their knowledge to interested minds.

Violence and entertainment by gladiators in the Coloseum and the home of two young men who could have taken over the world with laurel wreaths on their heads.

The money practically clung to their bodies no matter where they went it was the finest fabrics and colors of dye that surrounded them both, the white face makeup and the dark, mineral-infused coat around their eyes darker protruding, light hair divine as the sun, making the two emperor brothers recognizable everywhere.

With the triumph and amusement in the Colosseum, the rich and influential men also met at parties organized by the elite. Politicians, philosophers, merchants and scalpers as well as military generals could all be found there... but besides the elite there was also the untrhlatung in the form of fire-breathers, exotic animals and songs.

Showmen with magnificent costumes or the snake woman surrounded by flowers while on her light clad body the dark snakes curled along, beautiful but dangerous animals taken from the straw woven baskets on her hand along her arms skillful fingers and soft sounds of her voice with inviting and engaging vibrations of her body.

The small beads and stones on her tiny outfit covered her most necessary parts as the silk clung to her body and the animals moved across it. ,,I wonder what will happen if they all bite her," the elder mumbled to his brother, who shook his head in amusement at the comment, a hum of laughter leaving his lips, and took another sip of wine.

Geta hardly liked the party at first, but the younger knew that it was much more important to be well received not only by the senate but also by the other pillars of the empire.

They might be at the top, but without merchants, influential philosophers or even the slave traders, Rome would lack important things. ,,It would be amusing for a moment...but hardly any different than in the Colosseum," he replied briefly, not giving his advisor a glance but seeing that Caracalla's smile did not fade.

Despite the fact that he was older by a year, he seemed to have little interest in all of this, only the prospect of perhaps a little mischief or amusement had brought him out next to his brother.

So they found themselves sitting here for a few minutes, a little apart from the large tables and round corners in the rooms with the exotic pretty things from displays of dead things and old weapons to her.

A young woman arrived in Rome with one of the many circus wagons that presented themselves in different cities and entertained the people with talent for special normal amusement and no murder and killing.

She had known that the normal shows were as beautiful as they were and she always smiled when children were fascinated watching the animals and she could teach them something, so she knew how serious it was when it came to such parties, ,,The Imperial Brothers, the elite will be there...one mistake and we are next" were the words of her boss who knew that they could use any coins and let her go.

So here she was, dancing around at first, talking about the artifacts, but as soon as the torches announced the night and cast old shadows, she resumed her role as a sanke dancer and took her place.

At first, some stopped to look at her body and clothes until they were fascinated by the snake, paying attention to the connection between her and the animals, sometimes throwing flowers and coins to her for the extra money it was worth to buy new fabric.

Some even talked to her about her interest in the animals, though most of the questions were about ulterior motives for other services she no longer offered, and perhaps she kept the snakes a little too far away from her to keep the men at a distance.

She would only be here for a few more hours until she was picked up, until she saw the gold, until she saw the two wreaths, until she saw the golden hair, until she heard the curtains being drawn and she was alone with the two emperors.

She heard them talking, and in between the full words she saw their gazes, pairs of eyes looking at her as if she were long dead or undressed, or perhaps both. ,,As sorry as I am, my time here is almost at an end my Emperors" she dared to raise her voice interrupting the quiet conversation and words to the animals and relaxed slightly hoping they had drank enough to just leave, she felt her own exhaustion her feet aching from standing so much.

The moon was high in the sky, providing light in the great city alongside the fires of torches and lanterns of oil but her hopes were dashed when she saw the playfully indignant look on Caracalla's face as he tilted his head, ,,But we are still here and not satisfied," he protested, his fingers closing tightly around the goblet in which the wine floated.

Even Geta, who didn't like the party, apparently wanted relief and a reward for having to do this to, only made an almost inviting gesture, ,,I want to see her," he said and she didn't know if he meant her first or her snakes.

Stifling a sigh, she got off her little stage and approached them slowly and carefully. She had always had her snakes under control but now one mistake and they would all hang.

Geta's eyes looked into hers for a moment, not dismissively but rather challengingly, he let his gaze wander over her body for a moment, lingering on her chest, which was recognizable despite the light fabric, before he held out his hand and she offered him a middle part of the snake to stroke.

The three of them knew very well that she could not do anything except follow orders. Geta could take her here and now he could just as well have left her to his brother who could probably still put on an amusing show. But this narrow game between emperors, a powerless victim and deadly nature was much more amusing.

Almost imperceptibly, his lips curled into a smile, ,,Pretty animals, dangerous and deadly like their owner, aren't they brother?" he asked, turning his gaze to Caracalla, who was watching the whole thing with a broad smile, but his fingers were playing with his dagger, the blade moving slowly towards her.

He seemed to be only heartbeats away from carving her skin with the tip, his desire to see the blood as in the arena never seemed satisfied, ,,If the emperors allow it, will you hold her?" she asked quickly when Caracalla could finally cut her and she knelt down in front of the two of them, seeing the brief imperceptible twitching of the fingers that would not only have liked to lie on the snakes, if the knife had gone a little further up her skin, the fabric of her scanty top would have been torn apart.

Fingers that had already caressed his middle, his gasping giggles and the slight moans that came from her dancing movements, the fantasy of the gods and her being.

Sometimes more, sometimes less obvious, but he saw that she saw it. It amused him. Both brothers seemed to be turned on by the power of being able to take whatever they wanted…but they were merciful for the moment.

Before even Geta smiled at the gesture, crediting her for her courage in the face of two men who could mean her end at any time, she gave the first snake to Geta and took his hands in hers, ,,Calmly and slowly it will not bite you as long as you respect its power, my Emperor," she said, feeling his gaze on her as she slid one of the animals onto his arm and he looked at it for a moment.

,,You'll always kneel before us at your next performance," he murmured casually as if it were a thought that had just come to him, kneeling and crawling naked like a whore instead of leaving her the last dignity was the appropriate thing to do in his eyes.

,,And amuse us," Caracalla added and she found the cool point of the dagger sharp under her chin again, the older one forcing her to give him attention like a child who didn't get sweet honey from his mother, disgustingly foolish but dangerous, but Geta made no move to help her. Why, in the end, she was just a dancer, a woman a nobody compared to two emperors.

Slowly guiding the snake that had wrapped itself around her chest onto her hand, she carefully took his free hand in hers, ,,They would smell blood and devotion it would be unwise" she said not warning but rather reminding them that the black cobras were not toys, they were nature, animals that could not and would never be tamed.

The moment like a tension on the battlefield the cobra seemed to wrap itself quickly around Caracalla's neck not tight but the more it tightened despite not being a constrictor it could be dangerous.

The protection of the bond to her only went so far as the snake would obey orders on its own and Caracalla was in danger of becoming another victim. ,,Attention is wrapped around pretty things," she heard Geta say, his own fingers stroking her cheek, leaving her still paused, the cool blade of the dagger still against her neck, the younger emperor moving closer to her.

Once again a difference in power, he could have accepted the death of his brother for her, for her body, for his lust that her lips would probably wrap around his middle.

While it would probably still excite him as his suffocating brother took her cunt, this was just another thought in a moment that had an uncertain end.

Her snake seemingly not bothering him as he caressed her cheek, she smelled the makeup, the wine and the metallic gold and yet she returned the heartfelt kiss as he grabbed her harshly by the neck and pulled her close, she still vaguely heard Caracalla's gasp, which must have reached its amused ecstasy as death robbed her of its air.

She felt the dagger slip only slightly from her neck but that was all she needed to pull away from Geta with a jerk, hearing his annoyed snarl, she let her lips trail over the dagger, seeing the fascination of the two men at what she had done before she put her fingers to the blade.

,,Relax," she murmured before engaging the blond elder in a kiss, hearing the smirk that was stifled, the shake of his head and the laying down of the dagger as the clasp came off his neck after a few moments and she took the cobra back.

The moment between them was the fact of possible death, the lie obviously driven by the challenge, her uncertain determination and the deadly metal.

Taking the snakes back, she felt the burning gaze on her back just as the two emperors seemed to be waiting for a moment, the slight dull closing of the crobe the last bit of composure the two men could muster before they rose from their chairs and she felt their hands on her.

Another night in Rome for the emperors whose night was hardly different from any other, a night she had hoped she would never have to do again....but under the touch of human gods and her fast beating heart, it seemed she would never be able to tame the human snakes and their stifled sounds of pleasure and pain would be heard long into the night through their poison.

She was the first to hear Caracalla's giggle, but when she felt the cool fingers of Getas on her arm, the metal of the rings moving harshly over her skin, he turned her into his arms to engage her in another kiss while his other hand finally came to rest on her breast. He simply tore the fabric off for something else better.

His older brother, however, claimed her other half, his lips, once painted with make-up, had long lost their red and she now felt him press against her, almost obsessively taking her breath before she gasped out, her painful moan drowned in the kiss as Caracallae cut her with the dagger to get the blood.

Caracalla's fangs dug into her skin, his bites hard and sharp as he feasted on every drop of blood, a grotesque contrast to his white make-up. With every thrust, with every lustful sound, with every attempt to resist, Geta seemed to take on her strength, wrapping himself around her, depriving her of all sight, his serpentine body never letting go of her that night. Both had found the perfect prey and would leave nothing of her, for once ensnared, snakes never let go of their prey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael is FNAF Baby's number #1 hater

[curseofbreadbear]

[Immediately, Baby was met with the result she'd hoped for; the mere sound of his daughter's voice sent him into a frenzy. One question and he was sent spiraling, reaching for some glimmer of hope that his daughter was alive, somehow speaking to him. Funny thing -- Elizabeth had ALWAYS been here, begging for her father to listen, to show her praise and affection, but he only ever showed her contempt. Despite his first-hand knowledge, he never seemed to realize that the animatronic he'd beaten and berated was none other than his own daughter...that, or he simply didn't care.]

[Baby had been holding the reigns on this manipulation tactic, but Elizabeth herself volunteered to sell the illusion; they were of the same mindset, as always. They were both furious. They both yearned for a way to avenge themselves; making William more vulnerable than ever was but a fraction of their plan, but it was delightful. Hearing the way he grieved, yet clung to this "false" reality, was music to their ears.]

[A smile curled onto Elizabeth's lips as he, wrenched with heartache and disbelief, begged her for answers. Tiny hands reached out to hold his; they were solid, real, but cold. Inhumanly so. She hoped to solidify the truth he was questioning over and over again -- was this real? Was she here? -- only to show him what a mistake he'd made, casting them BOTH aside.]

❝ Don't be silly -- I'm right here, Daddy. ❞ [She insisted, giggling, as though she'd never died in the first place. Under Baby's direction, Elizabeth slowly let go of his hands, her expression becoming uncharacteristically hostile.] ❝ You know, you ALWAYS tell me to go away. "Daddy's working." "You can't be here." "Get out of here," "go away," "leave me alone, Goddammit!" ❞

[Elizabeth took a breath, recounting only a fraction of his harsh dismissals -- every time she'd tried to speak to him, to earn his love, he'd shot her down. He never wanted to be around her. Why was this an exception? She took a step back and glared at him. While she'd been alive, Elizabeth never openly showed this facet of herself -- if it had even existed back then. Baby had influenced her in many ways, and frankly, she liked it -- she relished being able to tear into her father now, to twist his words against him, the way he'd always done. Like father, like daughter.]

❝ You've never wanted me around. You're trying to send me away again, even after I came all this way to see you. Do you hate me that much? ❞

LIKE  THE  TOLLING  OF  THE  JUDGEMENT  BELL,  WILLIAM  HEARS  HER  VOICE  AND  CAN’T  STOP  THE  VISCERAL  REACTION  IT  CAUSES  IN  HIM:  HEAD  SNAPPING  UP,  EYES  WIDENING,  BREATH  HITCHING.  What  does  it  say  about  his  memory  of  Baby  that  he  didn’t  once  consider  her  as  being  even possibly responsible for  this ?  All  memories  with  her  wiped  away  in  place  of  the  all - consuming  rage  and  despair  that  had  enveloped  him  after  she’d  taken  Elizabeth  from  him.  Faz - wrench  clattering  to  the  ground,  a  distant  task  now  rendered  unimportant,  he  picks  his  way  towards  her,  hand  white - knuckled  around  his  cane.  Even  that  feels  trivial:  his  daughter’s  voice  has  rendered  everything  else  obsolete,  and  for  a  moment,  the  swoop  of  confusion  and  anticipation  in  his  stomach  is  like  flying.

She  might  be  the  first  animatronic  to  see  him  like  this.  Open.  Raw  nerve  of  his  daughter’s  death  exposed  like  the  bloody  lash  of  a  belt  or  sparking  metal  when  William  had  needed  to  take  his  rage  out  on  his  creations,  the  creatures  that  would  never  quite  be  good  enough . . .  Lips  parting  at  the  sight  of  her,  lined  brow  creasing  softly,  he  can  hardly  believe  who  he’s  looking  at.

This  can’t  be  real.  It  can’t  be.  ( And  it  isn’t,  but  time  and  rage  and  grief  have  warped  his  real  girl  beyond  recognition.  A  few  details  don’t  raise  alarm  in  him  now. )

“ Liz, ”  he  breathes,  fondness  mangled  with  unbearable  disbelief,  “ what  are  you  doing  here ? ”  How  are  you  here ?   Is  he  finally  losing  his  mind ?   A  quick  look  around,  self - conscious,  alarmed  at  that  thought,  brings  no  comfort:  nobody  else  is  around  to  see.  “ Darling, ”  William  says,  and  it’s  a  little  strangled,  “ you  can’t  be  here.  This  -   it’s  not  possible. ”

Answering  her  question  aloud  seems  redundant.  It’s  like  expecting  an  injured  animal  to  reply  if  it  hurts  when  it’s  already  shown  its  bleeding  wounds.  William  remembers,  though  not  the  right  person;  remembers  and  hurts,  those  dark,  dark  eyes  trained  on  his  girl  in  hollow  reflection of grief  and  hope.

[theblacksheepcz]

Hop on Digital Circus, we have:

A dysfunctional family that consists of:

Anxiety ridden jester girl that probably has the tism

Raggedy Ann

Purple jackass jackrabbit with rizz

Theatre Kid

‘Just a guy who exists’

Grumpy Enby

That one weird but funny uncle at the family reunion

Whimsical Creature with no thoughts behind its eyes