⋆ Selfaware! Pierrot eagerly awaits when you tell him you have a surprise for him.
⋆ Selfaware! Pierrot flutters when you disappear right in front of his face, but after… He can see you. The real you. A square "something" appears in front of his face – a thin layer of material separating your worlds.
⋆ Selfaware! Pierrot studies your room and the real you with childish delight. In someone else's world, you're even more beautiful than in his!
⋆ You have to snap your fingers a few times to bring back Selfaware! Pierrot to the ground. You disappear from the frame for a few seconds and return with an acrylic keychain. Then you bring another acrylic figurine, a red ticket, and a badge in the shape of his star.
⋆ The golden hearts in Selfaware! Pierrot's eyes grows bigger with each new thing. You always carry his image with you! You love him! You chose him! You're not afraid of him, despite his nature!
⋆ Selfaware! Pierrot asks, practically begs, for a similar thing with your image. With your character or a real photo—it doesn't matter. He just wants to have a piece of you with him too.
⋆ Selfaware! Pierrot shows you a stuffed animal and offers to trade it for a keychain or an acrylic figurine with your face.
⋆ "It's soft and cuddly. You can cuddle it and sleep with it… But can I ask for a similarly priced keychain with your face in it? Please, my lady! I'll be very careful with it!"
✶ Harlequin
⋆ Selfaware! Harlequin isn't entirely surprised by your trick, but he's definitely interested in the reason behind it.
⋆ Selfaware! Harlequin expresses disappointment and boredom when you show him a keychain with his face on it. He was hoping for a glimpse of your underwear.
⋆ Selfaware! Harlequin only becomes interested when you show him an acrylic figurine of himself half-naked. Is this a hint or a direct invitation?
⋆ Selfaware! Harlequin points out every imperfection in his naked figure and invites you to return to his world to see everything for yourself.
⋆ Selfaware! Harlequin expresses clear displeasure when he sees you with his green ticket and green heart badge. In his world, you refused his ticket, didn't wear his badge, and now you dare wave them right in his face?
Keep up like this, and he'll find a way to get back at you~
⋆ Selfaware! Harlequin defiantly waves his plush toy. He'd gladly trade it for an acrylic figurine of your naked image~
⋆ "Ma'am~ Why can you have a half-naked image of me on your desk, but I can't? It's so unfair~"
✶ Doctor
⋆ Selfaware! Doctor tilts his head to the side, watching your movements with curiosity. With the precision of a surgeon, he picks out every tiny detail of your room's decor, mentally constructing a portrait of your true personality.
⋆ Selfaware! Doctor smiles after you show him a glasses case with his image on it. He appreciates the practicality and quality of the print.
⋆ Selfaware! Doctor notices it has his image on it only after you point it out. He asks why you need something with his image on it, and why his image in particular.
⋆ Selfaware! Doctor examines every item with his image with childish curiosity. Each item is accompanied by questions: where did you buy it, why did you buy it, and can he have one too?
⋆ Selfaware! Doctor becomes thoughtful when you show him his ticket and badge. He should give them to you in his world.
⋆ "Huhum… this figurine has a nice print, but it's not a very accurate depiction of my body, Sweetie. I think I'll have to show it to you later."
✶ Ticket Taker
⋆ Selfaware! Ticket Taker has barely recovered from the truth about their world, and then there you are with your tricks.
⋆ However, Selfaware! Ticket Taker would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in your world at all. Are people different from his world? How do monsters live in yours, and do they even exist?
⋆ Selfaware! Ticket Taker doesn't have time to ask you these questions before you pull out a keychain with his image.
⋆ Selfaware! Ticket Taker is slightly stunned, not understanding where you got this from. But to be honest, he's even a little flattered. A monster with short claws is rarely admired so much.
⋆ Selfaware! Ticket Taker points out the inaccuracy of the acrylic figurine and points out the uselessness of such things. But his grumpiness can't hide the glowing cheeks and ear tips.
⋆ Selfaware! Ticket Taker understands that he enjoys seeing his badge on your collar and his ticket in your hands.
⋆ "If you want my ticket and badge, come to my tent tomorrow… Is that me in a bunny suit?!"
✶ Jester
⋆ Selfaware! Jester watches your actions with interest. So this is how you disappear from his world… Can he do the same or somehow prevent it?
⋆ Selfaware! Jester studies you. It seems the people from his world aren't much different from the people from your world.
⋆ Selfaware! Jester grinned suspiciously when he noticed the earrings with his mark—elegant purple diamonds. His pet marks itself as his property, and he doesn't even have to do anything.
⋆ Selfaware! Jester wants to know where you got the keychain with his image. He's well aware of his large fan base, so he's very interested in whether he can acquire them for sale at the circus.
⋆ Selfaware! Jester would like to purchase a set of figurines and keychains featuring his entire family. He's willing to trade for any plush toy or pay cash. However, he's open to trades and other options. He definitely wouldn't mind biting you or giving you a unique collar with his symbol.
⋆ Selfaware! Jester likes how his ticket counts with your earrings. He really hopes you always wear them with you.
⋆ "My color matches your eyes, my pet. I hope you always wear them in your world, because in mine, I will make sure you do."
**Relationship/closeness comparisons between the troupe before and after Columbina’s death.
Additive MAY be after her death.
Subtractive MAY be before her death.
Doctor’s colors may have turned from cyan to red after Columbina’s death, in reference to how his “eyes changed.” That’s what made me thinking about all of this.
“After fainting at work, your unconscious body is handed over to the Doctor.”
Doctor!Dom/Sub, noncon, bondage, restraints, teratophilia (feels like this is a given for tfc but it's just WAY more present when writing Doctor than Ticket Taker) (like TT is Just A Guy and Doctor is fucking Bigbird Dracula), Med kink, med play, intox, somnophilia, blood kink, oral fixation, oral sex, sexual assault, drugging to induce amnesia, IV insertion, IV backflow, needles
It's not as though your boss would notice you are overworked; he is simply too overworked himself. You are catching him up on your progress with the circus' application for an arts grant from a small college in Brazil. For sick, twisted reasons at which you can only guess (you have not forgotten the blackberry thing), Mr. Bilheteiro insists you report new developments in your work while standing before his desk as if giving a recitation. You oblige even though your own desk and chair are a mere few feet away, certainly close enough to speak and be heard.
It’s not going well. The circus' documentation from before your tenure is spotty, and the deadline to submit the paperwork is fast approaching. You are just about to inquire (unwisely) how the circus has managed to operate abroad illegally so many times without facing deportation or worse, when suddenly... You faint.
Ah, the Ticket Taker thinks, what a shame, as he watches you collapse, your eyes rolling back in your head. After checking to see if you're still breathing, he leans out the door of the admin trailer and flags down a fool to go fetch the Doctor. He sighs heavily as he steps over your lifeless body, and snags the unfinished grant application from your desk. No rest for the wicked, indeed.
The fool returns with the Doctor in a blessedly short amount of time. Ticket Taker gratefully notes that you've been apprehended before you could come to and engage in any... unsavory human hysterics. Doctor kneels down and lays his head on your chest. If Ticket Taker hadn't seen this sort of thing countless times before, he might find it comical; Doctor's enormous size dwarfs you such that you look as though you were being embraced by a bear.
"Your little assistant's heart is beating very fast. It is called Tachycardia."
"That's fine."
"It is actually very bad for humans. A fast heartbeat causes them to die sometimes."
"I see. Take the human away, then, please. It can't remain on the floor untreated."
The Doctor picks up your dead weight as though you were featherlight, bending to fit through the doorframe of the admin trailer. The poor, addled fool raises their hands as if to help and then drops them to wander stiff-legged outside, freezing to a stop by the entrance like a sentry. The Doctor's hulking silhouette, edges broken by your limply flopping arms and legs, recedes and disappears in the direction of the Cyan Tent.
•••
Your heart continues to hammer against your ribs as he straps you to the examination table. He presses a wet, cold cloth to your face, then bends down to listen to your chest. Your heart slows momentarily, then picks back up its alluring, frenzied beating. You stir and begin to cry, asking all kinds of silly things about "what happened" and "why am I tied down?" Doctor tuts softly and turns away from you a moment to gaze at a shelf of glass vials, one hand poised to pick up the right medicine, should it appear.
In the end, he decides on propranolol and midazolam, and a little something stronger that he's been working on lately. You should be grateful; many have given their lives to help perfect the medicine you will receive today.
He indulges himself a little, and administers the drugs intravenously (his favorite route). You moan pitifully at the needles’ bite, and he tuts in sympathy. As he shoots you up, he continuously monitors your heart rate with his ear pressed against your chest, reveling in your warmth and smell and oh so lovely fast little heart. It is almost a shame to slow it down, if only because it begs to be set free and run fast as a little mouse straight down his throat. His teeth chatter with want.
Oh, this won't do; he's getting overzealous again. Despite the beta blocker and sedatives, his poor bedside manner appears to be agitating his patient! He regains his composure quickly, administering the rest of your medicine without incident. You sob softly, and his enormous head bobs on your chest. His hands, however, remain inhumanly steady where they work at the inner crook of your elbow. Your heart rate slows, but not so much that it kills you, thanks to Doctor's careful monitoring. He allows himself to nuzzle your chest, gently, in celebration. Now comes an even more fun part!
He leans down and sniffs at your head: the soap-fragrant crown of your scalp, the hot soft skin behind your ear, the column of your neck ripe and wet with pulsing electrochemical activity. Groggily, you shy away from him, but you are restrained and sedated and it matters not. He lifts his mask and licks a hot stripe from the hollow of your collarbone up behind your ear. He feels your sobs rise from your throat as a vibration against his tongue. How warm and savory and luscious! Oh, but how unutterably sad! He can taste your exhaustion, your dehydration, your depleted electrolytes! He must return you to full health!
You begin to stir weakly against your restraints, begging and moaning to be let go. Doctor knows that whatever you say, however you scream or cry or beg, it doesn't really matter. You can't be damaged by something you won't even remember. Still, he feels... perhaps a little bad for you.
"Little assistant, I am only helping you. Lie still and relax."
He strokes your hair, the full bright cyan high-beams of his be-goggled eyes shining opaquely down at you. You remain uncomforted. Hot tears streak your slack face.
"I am going to get you some potassium and calcium, Sweetie. You will be happy when your blood returns to proper osmotic equilibrium, yes? Nothing to cry about, nothing at all!"
He shuffles away into the dark recesses of the tent, leaving you strapped to the table in hazy, sedative twilight. You hear rummaging, and a doll's head rolls slowly into the spotlight under which you are pinned like an insect. It is difficult to remain conscious, let alone worried, under the influence of Doctor's cocktail, but your present situation is not easy to accept. You cry out for help, slurring your words despite your best efforts. You beg for Mr. Bilheteiro to please come save you from this horror movie fate.
Doctor returns to your side and shushes you, cupping the side of your face with one enormous hand.
"Bil is very busy, little assistant. Imagine if he heard you! Don't make so much noise over nothing, hm?"
He strokes your hair and the side of your face, and ghosts the gloved tips of his claws over your neck. Goosebumps prick your skin. He chuckles. You squirm.
"Look what I have for you, Sweetie," the Doctor croons, and he rattles a little cup of pills and candies in front of your face.
"You will be so healthy, little assistant! Potassium, calcium, salt pills, some little fruit candy to stop your crying, and here, Sweetie," he unstraps your wrists and places an enormous glass of water in your hands.
You begin making the little hiccuping, snuffling noises of a human who is done crying, and the Doctor puffs up with pride. He helps you sit up on the table so you can take your pills and drink. The pills are enormous and rough on the outside, so swallowing them is a challenge and you gag once or twice getting them down. The candy is a welcome reward, crunchy and tangy-sweet. You think it might be runtz...
"Good job, little assistant! You will feel so much better soon."
You nod in agreement, unsure of what you are even agreeing to. You feel so tired now that you've calmed down. Doctor can see the exhaustion weighing on your eyelids. He takes the now mostly-empty glass of water from you and gently presses your shoulder to lay you back down. He begins to strap in your wrists again and you protest as strongly as possible, which just looks like squirming and whining right now. He chuckles at your ineffective resistance.
"Sweetie, you are sedated, not entirely in your right mind! This will keep you from falling off the table and hurting yourself. You can understand, can't you?"
You suppose that you can, and you lie back without struggle. It’s a relief, when you feel so tired, for Doctor to reassure you. You wouldn't have wanted to fight back, anyway. Doctor hums contentedly as he finishes tightening your restraints. It's a soothing noise. Combined with your exhaustion and the drugs coursing through your veins, it's the last push you need to send you off to sleep.
•••
As soon as your eyelids flutter closed, Doctor selects his tools. Shears for your clothes, a line of tubing, a bag of saline, and a rack by which to hang it. Of course, of course, the little silver tray with all his favorite blades and other tools, just in case. He shivers and suppresses the urge to open you up right now with his bare hands, fan out his fingers over your organs and lick your still-beating heart.
Nope! Not possible! You are here to be fixed, not studied. Bil would be at least a tiny bit put out if he had to go looking for a new little assistant.
There is fun to be had in fixing, thinks the Doctor cheerfully, even if it is not quite so nice as experimentation. He handily removes your clothes (a totally necessary step, how else can he fully evaluate your physical condition?) with his shears. Satisfied that no part of you is inaccessible now, he begins the real work at hand. He disinfects the crook of your arm, the one as-yet unmarked by his earlier ministrations, and runs a line into you. You did a good job of drinking that water, but you didn't finish the glass. Your need for fluids is such that Doctor feels it necessary (totally necessary and not at all self-indulgent) to put you on a saline drip.
This arm’s vein, when punctured, comes up roses; blood blooms up seductively into the saline-filled tube, before a proper flow is established and the fluids seep back into your body. Doctor is mesmerized by the pretty flower you've given him, replaying the delicious sight over and over in his mind. How, he thinks, does Bil not take his little assistant apart and catalog these pretty bones as he sucks the marrow from them? But Doctor is, himself, no stranger to rigorous self control. You pass another near brush with death, averted through no effort of your own. After all, what can you do, lying strapped-down, naked, and unconscious on Doctor’s table? Very, very little indeed.
Doctor is satisfied now with the emergency treatments you've received. Your heart rate is stable, your electrolytes should balance out soon, and you are on your way to full hydration. Not to mention, a little sleep never hurt anyone. With your immediate medical needs seen to and out of the way, Doctor feels comfortable taking some time to evaluate your health more broadly. Your body, stretched out limp on his table, invites his hands and his tools. He cannot possibly pass up such an invitation.
Doctor decides to test your deep tendon reflexes. It's not easy, due to your being strapped down and unconscious, but he's had plenty of practice with bedbound and comatose patients before. He starts by assessing your cervical nerves, using his hammer to test both your wrists, and your bicep and tricep on your free arm. Your muscles twitch and jerk deliciously in response to stimulation, and he finds himself repeatedly testing your cervical nerves just to watch, even after you've demonstrated a healthy response several times. It’s unfortunate that he can't assess your iv-catheterized limb, but perhaps after you're done with your fluids he can revisit it. For now, he notes a proper response in your free arm.
Though it's not particularly clinically significant, he indulges himself (he just can't stop today!) and tests your finger flexion response a few times on both hands. The slight squeeze of your fingers around his own after the strike of his hammer is like holding hands with you. How cute! Your little human body is so responsive and affectionate, even in its deep sleep! He notes your adequately symmetrical finger flexion responses and continues with your checkup.
Now he can begin testing your lumbar nerve responses. He places a hand under one of your knees and strikes just under your patella with the hammer, watching your quadriceps muscle closely for a response. You oblige him, the muscle rippling under your flesh as if beckoning him. His mouth waters and he moans, unable to stop himself. As with your other reflexes, he can't help but test it again and again, and even then it's just not enough. He needs to feel you. This time, as the hammer strikes your tendon, he tongues the muscles of your thigh, feeling them flex against his mouth through the salt of your skin. In spite of himself, he feels his cock stirring under his robes. He ruts very slightly, just a twitch of his hips, and feels his hardening length brush against the edge of the table. Guiltily, he looks up to see if you react, but you remain asleep. He straightens up, suppressing his base urges, and reaches for the cloth he dabbed on your face earlier. A little ashamed, he wipes his saliva off your thigh. He notes a normal lumbar response and, despite his longing for much much more, continues your checkup.
For your sacral nerve test, he has to unstrap your ankles from the table. In turn, he positions each leg so that it butterflies out, knee akimbo and foot positioned a little more than halfway down the calf of the opposing leg. In this position, he barres a finger across your metatarsals at the ball of your foot and strikes your tendon through your sole. On each foot, your muscles twitch and briefly pull into something like a dancer’s pointe. With one leg angled out to the side for your reflex test, Doctor is able to see a flash of the ruddy, soft skin between your legs. There are, of course, no secrets between a doctor and his patient, but he feels a little guilty for allowing his eyes to linger on you. He strokes your thigh, down your leg, and over the sole of each foot, before strapping you back down again. He notes that both tests resulted in a normal response.
Having concluded your reflex tests, Doctor thinks he might like to check how your hydration and electrolyte balance are coming along. When you initially came to his office, he gauged this by tasting your neck, but any sufficiently vascular area where the veins sit close to the surface will do. He drags the tips of his fingers over your skin, considering each site seriously. The armpits, the insides of the elbows, and the inner wrists are all fine. He would have to undo your wrist restraints, and all this buckling and unbuckling is getting very tedious. Much like the neck, behind the knees is a very fun site from which to collect data when a patient is awake and struggling, but again, the restraints. He certainly enjoyed your response earlier when he tasted your neck. How, though, can a doctor elicit such an interesting response from an unconscious patient?
Well, there is a part of you that is likely to be responsive whether you are awake or not… and it is quite vascular... Bil might object to that, but of course, you two are alone in the Doctor’s office…
It would certainly be informative; it would be the first time he had collected any data from this part of a human - or even this part of a monster, for that matter. It would also be strictly for your benefit. This is just… an experiment with a new clinical methodology.
So he leans down, lifting his mask, and reverently flattens his tongue between your legs.
It is very, very nice. Maybe too good. The skin here is so thin, the veins and capillaries so plentiful, the salty iron tang of your blood exquisitely present in a way that it just can't be through the thicker skin of the neck. He moans and ruts as he did while tasting your thigh, trying his best to remain in control of himself. He is losing the battle, he realizes, as he begins to lap hungrily at your sex. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the organ he is stimulating, he receives a response that only further excites him. The two of you are joined in a feedback loop of pleasure, as his moaning and licking bring only more arousal - and more blood - pulsing under the thin skin beneath his tongue.
You remain unaware, too exhausted and drugged up to regain consciousness, but your body responds in your mind’s absence. Under your fluttering eyelids, your dreams run warm and sweet. You sigh and squeal and moan for your Doctor, who sucks desperately on the lovely, flushed place between your thighs. He tastes something new, fluid that is actually out of you and right here under his tongue. He gratefully laps it up, and despite his red-fogged mind, his loss of control, he finds himself examining the taste for its chemical composition. He will have to remember all of this in detail, study and dissect his own memories later to extract the useful information and file away all of the… extraneous details.
The drugged whine of your voice as you cum for him, for instance, may very well be extraneous. Not exactly useful in a clinical context. Here, though, in this moment in time, he finds it quite useful. You make your pretty little noises and grace him with a veritable flood of that fluid he's been enjoying so much - mucosal as saliva, rife with salt and sugar and hormones. You bestow upon him pulses of blood and muscle twitches, bouncing against his tongue through your sweet, blushing skin. This is as close as he will get, for now, either to eating you or to fucking you, and the thought of both brings him to his own release, rutting arrhythmically against his exam table with his face buried between his little patient’s legs.
The stickiness of his semen coating him inside his clothes is unpleasant, but your comfort and safety as his patient take priority. Doctor hauls himself up from the end of the table, his face flushed unbearably hot under his mask. He notes to himself, as he rinses and wrings out a fresh cloth, that the composition of both your blood and your sexual fluids were quite adequately salty; he has succeeded in restoring your electrolyte balance! He sponges you off, taking extra care to clean your sex, and idly considers the benefits and drawbacks of this new methodology. He decides that, in the future, he will probably use this technique sparingly. There is too great a potential for the situation to spiral out of control. He sighs, and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, before checking the level of saline left in the bag and covering your nude form with a clean, white sheet.
“Get some rest, Sweetie.”
•••
When you awaken in your own bed later, it’s dark outside. You pull back the covers, the smell of dragon’s blood incense rolling off your body, to find that you are dressed in a fresh set of your pajamas. On the nightstand, you find a glass of water and a note in familiar handwriting.
“It has come to my attention that you have been overworked of late. The Doctor has informed me you will likely not remember the afternoon’s events, so please find them here laid out: You fainted due to an elevated heart rate during our standup meeting. You were transferred to the Doctor’s tent, where you were administered a beta blocker, sedatives, and intravenous fluids. When you were returned to my care, you were still unfit to resume your duties. I regretfully inform you that your clothes became damaged/soiled during your episode of poor health, and the Doctor has disposed of them. Please take tomorrow off work to attend to yourself. I hope this missive finds you well, but do please indicate to the Doctor if it does not.
-Bilheteiro”
“Damaged slash soiled?” Did you piss yourself in front of your boss? And maybe also the Doctor??? A blush creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks as you remember that you were “returned to the care” of your boss, because now you wonder which one of them dressed you for bed?
Thank you for your patronage, dear visitor. If you wish, read the author's note.
Finished Ticket Taker and the crew is finally all here!
Wanted TT to look like the most plain guy out of them all while still having interesting features (his design is kinda loosely based off of disguise he has at the coffee shop)
i like the idea that he looks older than he actually is but it’s mainly from how he styles and carries himself
not sure what would be his job but probably something related to either law or finances
tbh I am not sure about any of their jobs except Doctor as doctor (lmao) and Pierrot as baker in the coffee shop Ana works at to spend more time with her
Somebody did suggest for all of them to kinda live together like sitcom style but I am still not sure how to play off all of that in terms of when and how they all met and how old everyone is cause this AU would probably by nature would be less dark and more lighthearted since circus, monsters and human trafficking isn’t there (tho I am kinda tempted to make Jester have like a little cult for himself lmao)
If anyone got any ideas or suggestions I am all ears
Andrea_cereza @andreacerecita - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
germansingergirl
origamiaround
pixelskylines
amandla
prguitarman
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
turnnoffyourmind
