:P

I write hurt/comfort fics of Sun Wukong, sometimes

[forgetmaenott]

It’s wild that a silly little “Caine is jealous of Gummigoo” theory in the Showtime community is now widely considered to be true.

Obviously, the undertones aren’t romantic, but I still completely discounted the jealousy theory until Caine’s insecurities got more and more exposed.

This post, even if it’s more of a speculation, really solidified it for me.

(Showtime win?)

[writerinhorror]

The Amazing Digital Circus is something way deeper than what it looks like.

TADC being an animated series is a provocation itself; over the silliness and the colours hovers a question that we're forced to face since episode one.

What's that defines someone as a human being?

First of all, can you imagine living in a world where no one is real except for you and a bunch of other people? Having to constantly remind yourself that every other interaction you may have is just an illusion? That the only other sentient being around there except for the cast is Caine, who's an AI, by the way?

How can you not feel completely alone? And on the contrary, how can you force your own mind to constantly remind itself that you are really alone? That everyone may not be real?

Pomni spent the entirety of the first episode trying to cope with a whole identity crisis, and had another when she found out about the nature of NPCs; people abstract because of that. People abstract because in Caine's attempt of making them enjoy the Circus as much as possible, it's the Circus itself that pushes the limits of the whole meaning of the terms "being human"; what makes the cast different from the NPCs? Is that even important, after all? When the only thing you gain from clinging to your own mental health is abstraction?

At this point, it's Jax the only one who really understands it; he's the only one who's really right. If the only way to survive is to stop being human, then why don't we all become a part of the game? Why do we have to suffer, if we can just be some characters in this sort of fucked up videogame?

At this point, are we still talking about a place that only exists in a computer? Are we still only watching a silly cartoon on our phones? When, at the end of the story, we do the exact same in our real life to avoid falling into our own minds and abstracting ourselves?

[m-inntii]

In the same way Caine genuinely tried his best, loved the humans, felt hated and unloved by the humans, placed in circumstances out of his control and given an unfortunate hand (by being an AI without empathy placed into a position that would require empathy), Caine had also chosen to inflict his anger and frustration onto the humans and used their vulnerabilities against them and caused them a LOT of mental distress.

Caine is not a good person/character, but neither was he pure evil. He’s also a victim of circumstance much like the humans were, but he’s also someone who willingly chose to hurt others when he didn’t need to.

[crazyguyraaagh]

Any Queenie fans here that can't stand how there's literally no content for her without having Caine shoved into it and being made into a third wheel for royalteeth?

Actually now that I think about it, why is Caine and Queenie's relationship quite literally nonexistent--ok no. Shows over. I'm just gonna raise my blood pressure for no reason if I think about it

[lunetrixx]

been thinking about this alot

[sm-baby]

🟩◻️◻️◻️◻️◻️◻️◻️◻️◻️9% til we reach our goal!

Make a TADC drawing request with a donation!

I hope this helps a little on the way! If you have the energy, I would love desperate and pathetic Caine ✨

[pillowfortking]

Sun Wukong x reader

You tell Wukong you don’t want friends. He doesn’t try to change your mind, but he does have something to say about doing everything alone.

I Don’t Want Friends

You find him before he finds you, perched on the edge of a rooftop, staff resting across his shoulders, tail flicking lazily in the warm breeze. Sun Wukong always looks like he’s doing nothing, but you’ve learned better. He notices everything.

Including you.

“You’ve been avoiding everyone again,” he says without turning, voice light but not careless. “Your friends have been asking about you.”

You don’t sit beside him right away. You linger a few steps back, fingers tightening in your sleeves.

“I know.”

He hums, finally glancing over his shoulder. There’s no accusation in his eyes, just quiet curiosity. That almost makes it harder.

You take a breath.

“I… prefer it that way.”

That gets his full attention.

Wukong shifts, turning to face you properly now, one leg dangling off the roof. “Prefer what way?”

You hesitate, but you’ve already come this far.

“Being alone,” you admit. “I… don’t… want friends. Not really.” Your voice doesn’t waver as much as you expected. “It’s easier. Quieter. No expectations, no worrying about messing things up—or losing people. Just, me.”

The words sit in the air between you.

For once, Wukong doesn’t jump in with a joke.

He studies you, expression unreadable at first. Then something softer settles in. Understanding, not pity.

“Huh,” he says quietly.

Not that’s wrong.

Not you shouldn’t feel that way.

Just… acknowledgment.

You finally sit down, leaving a bit of space between you. He doesn’t close it.

“You know,” he says after a while, “people always assume being alone is the worst thing that can happen to someone.”

You glance at him.

“They’re wrong.”

That… isn’t what you expected.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

“You think I don’t get that?” he adds eventually, tilting his head toward you. “Spent a long time on my own, y’know. Way before all this—” he gestures vaguely toward the city, toward Megapolis chaos and found-family nonsense.

You glance at him. “Yeah, but you didn’t stay that way.”

“Didn’t say I wanted to,” he replies with a small shrug. “But wanting people and needing distance? Those aren’t opposites.”

That makes you pause.

He taps the roof lightly with his heel. “You’re not weird for wanting space. Or for finding peace in it. Some people recharge around others. Some don’t.” A brief grin flickers. “Some of us just like not dealing with anyone’s drama.”

You huff a quiet laugh despite yourself.

“But,” he continues, and you knew there’d be a but, “cutting everyone out completely? That’s not the same thing as choosing solitude. That’s more like… building a wall and hoping it never feels lonely on the inside.”

You don’t answer immediately.

Because he’s not entirely wrong.

“I don’t feel lonely,” you say, softer this time.

He nods. “Then I’ll believe you.”

No argument. No pushback.

Just trust.

Wukong leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “You don’t have to have a bunch of friends. Or any, if that’s what you really want.” A beat. “Doesn’t change anything between us, though.”

You blink. “You’re… not… bothered?”

“Why would I be?” he says, glancing at you again. “You’re not rejecting me. You’re just telling me how you exist.”

That lands somewhere deep in your chest.

“I like being around you,” he adds casually, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “But I don’t need you to be someone who thrives in a crowd for that to work.”

The space between you doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

After a moment, you shift just a little closer—not all the way, just enough.

Wukong notices.

He doesn’t comment.

Just lets it happen.

[pillowfortking]

Sun Wukong x depressed reader

CW: Depression

(Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending)

You don’t feel okay. Wukong notices, and stays. — You’ve been stuck in your head all day, listening to sad music and shutting everyone out. Sun Wukong shows up and refuses to leave you alone with it.

You Don’t Have to Be Okay

The music loops again.

It’s the same song now—you’re not even sure how many times it’s played again. The melody has blurred into something constant, like background noise for the heaviness sitting in your chest. You’re not really listening to it anymore… but you don’t turn it off either.

It fits.

The room is dim. Curtains drawn. Air stale. Time doesn’t feel real in here.

You’re staring at your screen, but not seeing it.

That’s when the door opens.

Slow. Careful.

Sun Wukong doesn’t burst in this time.

No dramatic entrance. No jokes right away.

He just stands there for a moment.

Watching.

Taking it all in the music, your posture, the quiet that isn’t really quiet.

“…Hey.”

His voice is softer than usual.

You don’t respond.

He steps inside anyway and shuts the door behind him with a quiet click. For a second, he looks like he might say something snarky, something normal—but it dies before it reaches his mouth.

Instead, he walks over and sits beside you.

Not touching yet. Just… there.

The mattress dips slightly under his weight.

The music keeps playing.

“…You’ve been in here a while,” he says after a moment.

You shrug.

Or at least, you try to. It barely counts.

Wukong exhales slowly through his nose, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His tail flicks once, restless, before settling.

“Alright,” he mutters. “Cool. Silent mode. I can work with that.”

He leans back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling like he’s giving you space, but he doesn’t move away.

Minutes pass.

Not awkward. Not exactly comfortable either.

Just… quiet.

Then—

“You know what I hate about this kinda thing?” he says suddenly.

You don’t answer, but your eyes shift slightly toward him.

“It’s not loud,” he continues. “Not like a fight, or… you know, something obvious you can punch.” he lets out a small, humourless huff. “It’s sneaky. Gets in your head and just… sits there. Makes everything feel heavier than it actually is.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of your sleeve.

“…Yeah,” you whisper.

He glances at you, softer now.

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

Then Wukong shifts closer—just a bit—and nudges your arm lightly with his.

“You wanna tell me what flavour of awful we’re dealing with today?” he asks. “We got ‘everything sucks’? ‘I suck’? ‘nothing matters’? Or the classic combo platter?”

A weak, almost invisible breath leaves you.

“…All of it.”

He winces slightly. Not dramatically—just enough to show he feels that answer.

“Yikes,” he murmurs. “That one’s a heavy hitter.”

You stare down at your hands.

“I don’t know how to stop it,” you admit. “It just keeps going. I try to distract myself and it just… comes back worse.”

Wukong nods slowly, like he expected that.

“Yeah. That’s kinda its whole thing,” he says. “Annoying, persistent, zero respect for personal boundaries…”

He trails off, then glances at you again.

“…Not your fault, though.”

You tense slightly at that.

He notices.

“I mean it,” he adds, more firmly, but still gentle. “Your brain’s being a jerk. That doesn’t mean everything it says is true.”

You don’t argue.

But you don’t agree either.

Wukong sighs quietly and shifts again, this time, close enough that your shoulders are almost touching.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me for a sec?”

You hesitate.

Then, slowly, you do.

His expression isn’t exaggerated or playful like usual. It’s… steady. Grounded.

“I’m not gonna throw some ‘fix everything’ speech at you,” he says. “Because that’s not how this works. And honestly? If someone tried that on me, I’d launch them into the sun.”

That earns the faintest flicker of something in your expression.

He notices immediately.

“Hey—there it is,” he says quietly. “Tiny reaction. I’ll take it.”

You look away again, but not as far.

Wukong leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“But I am gonna stay,” he continues. “As long as this takes.”

Your throat tightens a little.

“…Why?” you ask, barely audible.

He blinks, like the question catches him off guard.

“Why?” he repeats. “Seriously?”

You shrug again.

Wukong stares at you for a second—then lets out a soft, incredulous laugh.

“Wow. Okay. Your brain is really out here spreading misinformation today.”

He shifts, turning more toward you.

“Because you’re you,” he says simply. “Because I care about you. Because you don’t deserve to sit in here alone while your thoughts gang up on you.”

He pauses, then adds, quieter—

“And because I know what it’s like.”

That lands.

You glance at him again.

Wukong doesn’t elaborate right away. He just looks back at you, something heavier sitting behind his usual confidence.

“…There were times,” he says slowly, “where I got stuck in my own head too. Couldn’t shut it off. Didn’t want help—even when I needed it.”

He looks away briefly, jaw tightening just a bit.

“Difference is,” he adds, “you’ve got me.”

The room goes quiet again, aside from the music.

Then—

Very gently—like he’s giving you time to pull away—he reaches over and takes your hand.

His grip is warm. Steady.

Not tight. Not loose.

Just… there.

You don’t pull away.

He lets out a quiet breath, almost like relief.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Step one complete.”

You blink slightly.

“…Step one?”

“Yeah,” he says, glancing at you with a small, softer version of his usual grin. “You didn’t shove me off the bed. That’s huge.”

A tiny huff escapes you.

Not quite a laugh, but closer than before.

“Step two,” he continues, “we make this room slightly less… sad cave.”

He gestures vaguely around.

“No offense.”

You glance at the curtains.

“…I don’t feel like moving.”

“Good news,” Wukong says immediately. “You don’t have to.”

Before you can question it, he stands up and walks over to the window.

“Hey, what are you—”

Too late.

He pulls the curtains open just enough to let a sliver of light spill into the room. Not blinding. Not overwhelming.

Just… a crack.

You squint slightly, but it’s not unbearable.

“See?” he says. “Minimal effort. Maximum dramatic effect.”

He walks back over and sits down again—closer this time, shoulder brushing yours.

“Step three,” he says, quieter now, “we survive the next little bit.”

You frown slightly.

“…That’s it?”

“For now? Yeah.”

He squeezes your hand gently.

“No big life overhaul. No ‘fix everything.’ Just… this moment. Then the next one. Then the next.”

You lean into him a little before you can stop yourself.

He stills for half a second, then relaxes, letting you.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s it.”

The music is still playing—but softer now. Less suffocating.

Wukong shifts slightly, resting his head lightly against yours.

Not heavy. Not trapping you.

Just… there.

“You don’t have to be okay right now,” he says quietly. “You just have to be here.”

Your grip tightens around his hand.

And for the first time in a while—

The weight doesn’t disappear.

But it doesn’t feel quite as crushing either.

Wukong glances down at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“See?” he murmurs. “Told you I’d stay.”

And this time—

You believe him.

[burgycreeper405-blog]

oh.. my gosh... YOU SHIP SHOWTIME?!?!? FRICKING NO ONE SHIPS SHOWTIME!! I'M SO HAPPIII!!! YOU’RE NOW THE BEST ARTIST, EVERRRRR

there are allot of showtime shippers lol

and nahhh jfhgjs

me is just a burger that somehow draws

[pillowfortking]

AWSUSTSJSJY THE CUTIEESSS!!

[burgycreeper405-blog]

Do you ship anyone in tadc?

yes

first time drawing them in not animation lol

[pillowfortking]

PEAK SHIPPP!!!!

[sm-baby]

I miss Able

[sm-baby]

|| ☕COMMISSION FOR @butchwaifu

Ko-fi

BUTCH DIDN'T COMMISSION SHADED BUT I HAD TO GO ALL IN ON THIS ONE BECAUSE THEY WERE GONNA PRINT IT LDKALDSH

[skewedcanvas]

Able, The Man With The Hands!

Animated by Me Comic by @sm-baby (Link to Comic -> Here)

Voice Casting: Ragatha voiced by Viridihart Gangle voiced by Mikiib Able voiced by Ash McShan

Background Music: Conversation Piece by Gooseworx

[sm-baby]

☕ COMMISSION ME HERE!

Thank you, @the-trans-anon for your commission!

[sm-baby]

[sm-baby]

The greed of funnybunny fans repulses me. You are all ROTUND you do not NEED more content. When is it showtime's turn i hope that purple twink kills himself next episode

I DON'T NEED SHOWTIME. I NEED LESS FUNNYBUNNY.

I FEEL STUPID. I FEEL SO STUPID TO THINK THIS SHOW WOULD HOLD ITSELF BACK, THAT IT WOULDN'T HOLD FAVORITES. I WASTED SO MUCH TIME FALLING IN LOVE WITH A PREMISE THAT DIED ON ARRIVAL.

[sm-baby]

EXACTLY my thoughts!

[spirit-of-a-kiger]

I really, really hope things improve in this regard...

[sm-baby]

We only have 2 episodes left. 1 hour of screen time at most... I don't think it's going to make up for the lost time.

[sm-baby]

Yeah, the pomni & caine angle was really beat in the pilot/first, and the lack of caine in the “actual” episode chemistry is seriously disappointing as far as showtime. Honestly the show is a lot more jax focused than I thought it would be, but looking back i may just be stupid

I FEEL stupid. I feel so stupid to think that the show that has an amazing female protagonist with a fascinating plot with amazing character-driven characters would focus on all the characters. that it would focus on the lore, the story, that it would focus on the MAIN CHARACTER. Instead, all of a sudden it changes its gears to a character (Jax) that we don't hear from for FIVE episodes out of 9. THIS ISN'T what I came for. And I'm tired.

You would notice that Carnival is centered around Pomni, the main protagonist. and lore, and the psychology of all the characters, Caine and his involvement with CnA, because THAT'S WHAT I WANTED TO SEE. NO. Instea,d we get most intimate screentime with only one of the humans that shouldn't matter more than the others. But he is. He's treated special when he shouldn't be.