This could have been a reblog but I hate it when contrarians do that to me so I'm not doing that to this person.
Friend, you are missing the point of why people hate percabeth. I don't hate that Annabeth is a mess, I hate that she gets away with being a mess while holding Percy to perfect boyfriend standards. I hate that she gets to have complex feelings about Luke but gods forbid Percy even *look* at another girl just to be his friend.
Fantastic character flaw, if annoying and immature, but a horrible trait in an allegedly loving and supportive girlfriend.
I hate that her being a mess is constantly dismissed by Percy and everyone else meanwhile he cannot fuck up whatsoever in their relationship without swift consequences and Annabeth never letting him live it down. He can't even start doing well in school without her perceiving a threat to 'her thing' and getting jealous and petty about it.
Fantastic character flaw, if annoying and immature, but a horrible trait in an allegedly loving and supportive girlfriend.
She doesn't have to be a perfect girlfriend, she doesn't have to be a perfect person. No one is asking for this whose opinion is worth their salt. We are asking that she takes the hits she gives. If Annabeth gets to be snippy at Percy when she's frustrated, she needs to be able to take it when he's snippy at her when he's frustrated, and she can't.
"Not simply about learning to treat their boyfriends better" --great! Then let her be single if she can't handle a healthy relationship. Nobody, gender regardless, is entitled to a romance, and nobody, gender regardless, deserves to suffer for someone else's immaturity in that romance.
It isn't a crime to make teenage girls do things wrong. It is harmful, however, to romanticize and excuse that behavior just because they're girls. Feminism isn't about "but the boys were mean so now I'm entitled to be mean back now that I have power" it's about equality, breaking the cycle of abuse, not giving a fuck about gender at all and who's "superior". Otherwise we just keep going around in circles.
I'd love nothing more than for every girl in the cast to have an arc independently of the men in their lives. That's not the case, unfortunately, and the way Annabeth treats the man in her life is inexcusable.
I wish the pjo fandom just accepted that Rick Riordan is a bad writer sometimes or at the very least inconsistent. Maybe then they'd recognize that a lot of characterization problems are retcons and bad writing instead of taking it as fact. It's why half the fandom is convinced that Percy hates Nico/does not care about him or that Nico's relationship with Percy only brought him pain. Why Jason, Hazel, Reyna and Will are considered Nico's support system but Percy isn't.
Nico and Percy's relationship does not exist in a vacuum and you need to understand the doylist problems in heroes of Olympus.
1- Rick very much repeats Nico's arc from pjo but worse. Nico's arc in pjo dealt with grief and being ostracized due to being a son of Hades. The second problem was established since the very FIRST book. Hades is not considered an Olympian he does not have a throne and his kids don't get cabins because otherwise "it would be terrible" according to Grover(we never learn what the terrible thing is I mean Zeus and Poseidon's kids are equally destructive soooo) PERCY very much calls this out in Botl when Hera insinuates that Nico doesn't belong. HE calls her out which causes Annabeth to do the same. People talk about Hera's beef with Annabeth but they leave Percy out of it. Then in TLO Percy calls out Nico's heroism and uses it as a reason why Hades deserves a recognition. Nico gets a cabin(which he designs) and the implication is that he will be accepted. In fact Hades' kids being accepted is why the position of the Oracle is not cursed anymore
Then HoO comes along and people STILL think that Nico/hades kids are creepy? It would have been fine if it was just CJ since they didn't have the development CHB had but no apparently camp half-blood went back to treating Nico the same after like 2 weeks. And Rick cannot for the life of him decide if this ostracization is in Nico's head or not. Frank is fine with Nico in SoN and then in their next meeting he's terrified. And then the rest of the 7... I don't even have a problem with the scene with Hazel where they talk about him being untrustworthy(that's fandom exaggeration they did not want to leave him behind Y'all they just said that he might be untrustworthy and then like 3 lines later it's dismissesed hell the conversation literally begins with PERCY telling Hazel they're saving Nico. Also let's be honest with ourselves Nico IS shady sometimes and any true Nico fan would love him for it) but their general attitude is like "ooooh so creepy." and Nico doesn't even do anything to cause that he just exists and idk is a little bit sneaky? As in he can move quietly? Leo makes a joke at his expense and him and piper are surprised that Jason defends him implying he wouldn't have done so before? Percy and Annabeth find him unsettling (even though they were FINE with him in PJO I'll DIE on that Hill. Even his SISTER is like "oooh Nico is not easy to be around thank you Frank for talking to him he needs practice talking to people." bruh who IS this guy 😭 pjo Nico wasn't like that! He could hold a conversation with people he could work in a group setting even though he preferred to do things alone. He doesn't hiss at social interactions 😬 Rick uses Iapetus/Bob from sword of Hades but apparently forgets that this was the same story where Nico went on a quest with Thalia and Percy and he was FINE. In fact Hazel's very presence relies on Rick retconning the lesson Nico learned in tBotl because he apparently only found Hazel while looking for Bianca. Which is really unnecessary I mean he could have just found her in the underworld while investigating the whole Thanatos problem.
Do you see the problem Here? For Rick to repeat Nico's "people find me creepy and Because of that I self isolate until I find support" plot. Nico needs to be isolated again. Camp half-blood needs to go back to isolating him(also Rick retcons who designed Nico's cabin) we need Jason and Reyna to be Nico's first real friends so we need to scrap Nico's friendship with Percy and how much Percy cared about Nico. Hell let's mischarachterize Nico and make him even more anti social to create drama.
And perhaps the WORST thing in this whole debacle: Rick retcons this whole thing AGAIN by going "oh no the ostracization was in Nico's head he's the one pushing people away 🤪" Which like it CAN'T be in Nico's head because I was in other characters' heads and they are weird about him too is Nico supposed to be blind as to not notice that? And the fact that this author gaslighting comes out of Nico's love interest is really part of why I could never get into Solangelo. Hell the Solangelo books BOTH have a moment where Nico is talking about his experiences and Will is like " um actually 🤓☝️ non of that happened people wanted to be your friend you just were rude and sarcastic to us." And we're supposed to take his words for it. This isn't Will being unreliable this is supposed to be objective reality. And once again for the people in the back: Nico IS NOT like that. He is not constantly sarcastic and rude to people. He can very much carry conversations He can be polite. One wonders if that really was the case why didn't Will name some of those who wanted to be Nico's friends. I mean if Rick wanted to make Nico's pov sound unreliable that was his way but BoO makes it seem like this is Nico and Will's first notable interaction(which tSatS later retcons again but I expect nothing from that book).
2- Now let's get to Percy. As I've said Nico's problems with Percy does not exist in a vacuum there's a doylist reason that goes back to Nico but there's also a problem with Percy's character arc as well. Rick has like 2 arcs for Percy and they're both ass. One is about his fatal flaw which goes nowhere and the other is that Percy apparently needs to learn to be a better Friend. You hear that? PERCY Loyalty Is My Fatal Flaw JACKSON needs to be a better friend. The culmination of that Arc is basically that scene is Tartarus where Percy realizes that he's been a shitty friend and needs to do better and the examples used here are: Calypso, Bob, and Nico.
For that to work the narrative needs to bend over backwards to either blame Percy for things that are not his fault or retcon Percy's whole ass personality.
A- Percy is in NO WAY responsible for the gods not freeing Calypso. They swore an OATH to make Percy's request come true and if Rick Riordan actually allowed oaths to the River Styx to matter this would not be a problem but again doylist problem. Rick wants Calypso in the plot for Leo's arc so Calypso needs to be in her island so uhhh apparently the gods didn't free her and it's Percy's fault even though he was kidnapped. Calypso needs to fall in love with Leo so Leo needs to succeed where other heroes have failed. Caleo can only work if Leo proves himself different/better than Percy.
B-Iapetus/Bob. Idk if this is unpopular or not but Percy does not owe Bob SHIT. I know that Rick doesn't really remember Sword of hades so let me remind all of you that the only reason why Percy erased his memory was that this TITAN(practically impossible to defeat) was trying to KILL him, Thalia and Nico. He was very much gung ho on murdering them (it's why I roll my eyes at HoH trying to make him somehow different than the other Titans like oh Iapetus was always softer/morally better than the other Titans. No the fuck he wasn't. If we go by personality Prometheus and Krios had a much more nonviolent and calm personality in PJO). If Nico wants to befriend Bob in spite of the murder attempt good for him, it's very much in character but Percy is not a bad person for not thinking of Iapetus more. My brother in Christ they had to deal with the aftermath of a WAR and Percy was kidnapped and had his memories erased and right after that he had to deal with ANOTHER WAR 😭 plus Percy isn't Nico. His relationship with Hades is rocky at best last time he went there he was imprisoned He can't just stroll down the underworld and visit Bob whenever he wants.
C- Nico. I can't believe this needs to be said but Percy was NOT a bad friend to Nico. "Not giving people a second thought" is NOT a problem Percy and Nico had. Percy took on the prophecy because he did not want Nico to shoulder this burden. Annabeth points out that he could be the prophecy kid and Percy actively CHOOSES for it to be him so that Nico doesn't get noticed by Luke/Kronos. He hides Nico's parentage from Chiron. He(+Annabeth) look for Nico for months in between TTC and BotL. When he has a vision of Nico with Minos he's so freaked out by it that he destroys his cabin's fountain and states at it for hours until Tyson checks up on him. He RUSHES to The labyrinth. He RUNS to the dangerous as fuck labyrinth because Nico might be in there and he does so while convinced that Nico wants him DEAD. When Gerion allows him and his friends to go on with their quest but not Nico, Percy gambles his and EVERYONE ELSE' freedom to free Nico. PERCY is the one who calls out Hera because he learned that Hera paid for Gerion to let them leave but not Nico.
It's because of Nico that Percy is so pissed off that he calls out Hera's toxicity when it comes to people like Nico or Hephaestus. Hera dismisses this and turns to Annabeth and Annabeth's response is basically: "Percy is right you DO suck." (This is very significant because it highlights Percy's role as an agent of change in his friends and his role as a cycle breaker because of his empathy. Which makes him a new type of hero. Percy constantly stands up for those who are outcasts. He stands up for Tyson in book 2. In book 3 he is the one person that tries to remind Bianca that Nico would be alone if she joins the hunters. He gives grace to both Bianca and Nico and later finds empathy for Zoe as well. In book 4 he constantly tries to help Nico and he dismisses the prejudices people have against mortals with Rachel. Both Chiron and Annabeth(due to Chiron's teachings most likely) view mortals as stupid and helpless but Percy trusts Rachel's competency and abilities. It is very much a pattern. One can even say it's a parallel between Percy and Nico. Percy stands up for outcasts while Nico takes notice of those in the shadows, those other people wouldn't think about. Like Hestia or Bob).
The fandom compares Jason/Will' reaction to Nico wanting to leave CHB with Percy's to somehow dunk on him because "Oh Percy let Nico leave. Nico said he didn't belong to camp half-blood and Percy didn't contradict him that means-" lemme stop you right there. The conversation literally began with Percy trying to invite Nico to his table for dinner because he worries about Nico missing meals. Percy tells Nico that it's dangerous outside of camp half-blood. Both Percy and Nico are RIGHT. Nico WOULDN'T belong to camp half-blood if he'd stayed there. There was no cabin for him. Percy himself had to take people's distrust due to being Poseidon's child he'd know that things are even worse for a Hades kid, Hera literally proved how little Olympians cared about Nico. He trusts Nico's capabilities because Nico has proven that he can survive on his own, and tells him to keep in touch and then actually DOES something productive and asks the gods for a cabin basically giving Nico a home. Do I even need to talk about the birthday cake scene? Even when Percy is mad at Nico in TLO, he still Carries him through the underworld he does not leave him behind. He calls Nico a Friend by the end and uses him as an example of why Hades' kids deserved recognition.
So what the hell gives in HoO? I mean even in HoO' inconsistent ass writing, Percy still has in Character moments of worry over Nico. He dreams about Nico in the jar, and tells him they'll free him. The controversial conversation about saving him literally begins with him telling Hazel that they're saving him(Leo and Jason only comment after that) when they're saving him he's so worried he forgets about Annabeth for a while and feels guilty about it afterwards. And no Percy isn't being mean when he thinks about wanting to throw bread at Nico, he also thinks about doing the same to Grover in book 1 when he's fighting the minotaur. It's just a Percy thing. Are we going to argue that Percy doesn't care about Grover?
But then you got these weird things like "He had a rocky history with Nico di Angelo. The guy had once tricked him into visiting Hades’s palace, and Percy had ended up in a cell. But most of the time, Nico sided with the good guys." Yeah okay it's Completely in character for Percy to be pissed at Nico for hiding the truth/lying to him AGAIN. But Nico always sides with the good guys or whatever. He was completely neutral in tBotl. He didn't care about the war only reviving Bianca but after that plot is done, Nico rushes to save Percy because Minos told him Nico is in danger Percy even takes note of this. He reveals his heritage and helps them escape from the TA. from then on he's on Olympus' side. Even with the trick with Hades. Percy is pissed about Nico LYING to him. He knows that Nico's goal was always to give him the Achilles curse. Percy knows this. Which is why he sends him back to convince Hades to join the fight. I hate the idea that the new books/fandom perpetuate that "Percy only remembers Nico when he needs something." It's NICO who approaches Percy trying to prove himself with the Achilles curse plan. Percy invites him in simply because he wanted to give Nico a good experience. NICO assumes that Percy doesn't trust him anymore. Percy himself doesn't even know how he's feeling. "Not giving people a second thought-" If there's a distance between Percy and Nico it's NICO who pulls away.
And again, while it is in character for Percy to be angry at Nico, I'd argue that an in character Percy would have also spoken up during the scene with Leo and Jason. Percy wanted to save Nico when he thought Nico wanted to sacrifice his soul for Bianca's. He didn't leave Nico behind even in TLO. I'd argue that it would make Jason and Percy's bullshit conflict into something actually meaningful if we turned it into Percy's Greek individualistic thinking and loyalty VS Jason's collective view and non trusting nature due to his upbringing.
And "Percy had shared some disturbing stories about Nico. His loyalties weren’t always clear. He spent more time with the dead than the living. Once, he’d lured Percy into a trap in the palace of Hades. Maybe Nico had made up for that by helping the Greeks against the Titans, but still-"
And bfr right now. Percy is not the type to gossip about people/talk behind their backs like that to someone he'd recently met. He doesn't tell Chiron about Nico's parentage, He doesn't Annabeth and co about his visions in tBotL. I'm pretty sure he doesn't talk about what happened with Hades in TLO. He refuses to let anyone call Silena anything but a traitor but you expect me to believe he'd be trading stories with Jason of all people? Jason Could have simply distrusted Nico because of his secret keeping. It would have still worked. I mean let's be real what else could Percy say about Nico? Nico's loyalties are not the question here. But sometimes Nico has his own agenda also and he hides things. And it wouldn't be slander, it's the truth. Sometimes Nico is a liar. Jason could have just taken that and become suspicious and it would highlight his personality even more.
And yes Nico finds some aspects of Nico's power creepy but he also finds some aspects of them cool. They're friends. Annabeth also cared about him. The three of them joke around with each other in one of the side book interviews. But we know that Rick is inconsistent. Wether it's with Nico both in personality, or lore(I count 4 birthdays for Nico according to the timeline) and so I don't know why people just accept these new versions of Percy and Annabeth.
There's this wired clusterfuck of Nico, Percy and Annabeth being flamderized by both the fandom and the text. Percy and Annabeth have long since stopped being themselves so that they could neatly fit into the "dumb BF x Smart girlboss GF" trope. It's either Annabeth suddenly being way less emotional than she was before so we could make her "cold and logical and needs Piper's help to face her feelings." Or Percy being dumbed down. Compare Percy's speech to the campers in TLO to the one he makes in BoO. His humor becomes more juvenile. The moment Annabeth shows up they become each other's whole personalities, to hell with Percy's connection to Frank, Hazel and the ones he had in PJO. Oh Percy is a troublemaker who needs Annabeth to keep on a leash. He needs Annabeth to help him out of a paperback. She is the brains. Percy's own strategic mind? Never heard of it. It's also Rick's "girlboss not like other girls feminism" that circle backs to misogyny. Because the girls need to all be mature and emotionally competent so they can roll their eyes at the immature, dumb boys. 🙄 Percy just gets it the worst here. Is it really a surprise that the senior year trilogy have basically turned Percy into a complete dumbass who needs his mom- sorry girlfriend to carry all the braincells? Annabeth is basically the mom Friend whose job it is to be perfect and smart and sigh at the boys' stupidity. Hell even the other boys get some of it Jason is somehow a dumbass oblivious Boy for wanting to involve Reyna or trusting her in front of Piper even though they never dated. Frank and Leo get to have teen bickering while the girlies all get along and roll their eyes at the boys bring immature and therefore don't get to have any conflict or any relationship with each other.
Hell let's circle back to the Reyna thing because that's Rick's second problem. He can only resolve love triangles by erasing/downplaying the platonic connections that existed before. I mean Reyna and Jason do not have a SINGLE conversation that is one to one/not related to the plot. Reyna has more conversations with Annabeth and Piper. Rachel and Percy used to be good friends. He was very comfortable around her but then in HoH he gets nervous after her name gets mentioned and Annabeth is amused because oh they became friends off screen but she needs to keep her boyfriend on his toes(they're in Tartarus btw) Reyna? She believed that Percy was competent enough to be co-Praeor with her but then she meets Annabeth (and an in character Annabeth would have had a more interesting relationship/bigger conflict with her and not even because of romantic jealousy but as a proud daughter of a war goddess meeting another daughter of a war goddess who implied that CJ is better than CHB but god forbid Annabeth gets to be immature) and suddenly she's like "lol Yeah Percy can't find his way out of a paperbag without Annabeth" it's so jarring specially since Percy was complimenting Reyna prior to this. And then she gets to compliment him but bam! Annabeth arrives and suddenly Percy needs to be a dum dum in comparison. It happens with Calypso and Leo where Leo needs to succeed where Percy failed(hell even outside romantic relationships this still applies. Nico can't be Bob's friends him being Bob's friend needs to be highlighted by comparing what a shitty friend Percy is. Jason needs to be Nico's first buddy. We can't have Nico be the one to push Percy away because of his feelings no we gotta make Percy into the failure)
And is ANYONE surprised that the same principle applies to Nico as well? Nico can't move on from Percy after a conversation or some closure. Apparently he holds Percy on a pedestal, even after Percy "failed to save Bianca" and Nico realized that the world didn't work like his card game. No Nico STILL help Percy up on a pedestal and the only way he can move on from Percy is by diminishing how much Nico mattered to him by implying that Percy is a bad friend who failed Nico somehow. And Nico suddenly realizes that Percy is annoying and immature and sees how normal and unimpressive he is after he sees Percy... Right after Tartarus. Right after Tartarus when Annabeth and Percy are complete messes Nico looks at him and goes: wow he looks so normal/not heroic. That doesn't make Nico seem shallow not at all! What are you talking about? I mean in the same book Percy is called the person Nico cares for the most but we need to Speedrun this moving on shit so Nico finds belonging(times 2 but it will stick this time promise) and his new besties and his perfect boyfriend and him and Percy never have a moment to finish their ass conflict(same as Reyna and Jason) just a high five with Annabeth and into happily ever after we go.
Sorry but yeah I actually do think that Shadow Milk's anger towards First Milk is totally valid. I love First Milk and I will always defend her against the "abused and abandoned Fount" allegations, but even if she didn't intentionally abandon him, she did create as a full adult with the sole purpose of having a job that clearly stressed him out and put a huge responsibility on his shoulders without at least giving him a childhood. This goes for all of the first witches who created a beast. They are all indirectly responsible for their corruption. I don't know how any of them expected their creations to not fold under the huge weight put on their shoulders for thousands of years. I keep seeing people act like Shadow Milk has no right to be angry but like. I would go insane too 😭
Summary: Doctor doesn't understand what love is, but somehow he knows that he loves you. This is him trying to encapsulate that messy, terrifying feeling in the bloody, visceral language that he knows so well. The one he's afraid of letting you hear.
Warnings for description of blood, gore and viscera — the reader isn't harmed and Doctor does not want to harm them, he's just learning a feeling he's not used to.
Read on AO3
You are so beautiful like this.
Not just beautiful either— handsome. Adorable. Ethereal even, though Doctor didn't like the idea of equating your visual appeal to something immaterial and metaphorical. He operated on the physical and the real, something he could hold and touch and observe to an almost obsessive degree. You aren't some fairytale or symbolic presence— you are real, a person that he can interact with in ways that his brain understood.
And yet, despite the physicality allowing him a constant excuse to observe and an object of fascination, Doctor is still so utterly confused by you. Confused by the way you make his heart race as though it would leap out of his chest anytime you so much as smiled at him. When you laughed at his jokes. When you listened to his theories. Entertained his questions. Joined in his dry, oftentimes dark humor even when the others didn't find it all that funny.
Those moments contained such serene joy that Doctor wondered if those feelings bubbling up inside of him are why humans could be so religious or spiritual— as if their bodies couldn't contain devotion so large and frightening towards a being outside of themselves that they had to place it elsewhere entirely.
A theory for another time, perhaps. One you might even allow him to ramble on about if the time was right and the evening late enough, with you unable to sleep against the ambiance of the circus— Doctor can never ignore the delight he feels knowing you trust him in such a vulnerable fashion. To sleep unguarded… it spoke volumes of affection that words couldn't do justice.
It isn't normal, after all, for a rabbit to slumber under a wolf's gaze.
While it's not the first time you had fallen asleep in his main tent while he worked, it's the first time you'd done so in his medical chair (which was amusing in itself). Something that was a source of terror for others, but a place of comfort for you— if Doctor was a reader of things beyond medical textbooks and botanical guides, he might have thought of something poetic about the situation, a certain beauty to be found in the layers of complete irony.
… he'd stopped working sometime ago. Though the pen was still gripped in his hand and the papers of notes and chemical results askew across his desk, all Doctor could do is stare at you sleeping so peacefully on the chair, body curled up with a blanket you had taken with you from elsewhere in the circus. Possibly Pierrot's tent, maybe from your own items that came with you when you moved out of that little apartment. Maybe somewhere else altogether.
It doesn't matter to Doctor precisely where the blanket came from— all the same, it's not his body wrapped around yours. Not his feathers caressing your skin, feeling your heartbeat thump low and rhythmic in the center of your chest. It isn't his hands on your chest, his teeth at your pulse—
Ah. Those feelings again. The ones that made his heart begin to ache. Not… painfully. Just… ache. Like a wound that has healed over but not fully knitted together. Like there was ice in his chest cavity, cold and numbing and sharp and seeping. Of course that wasn't the case; the chance of having any sort of cardiac issue was rather nonexistent, and Doctor knew he didn't literally have ice lodged inside of his ribcage.
That would be rather illogical.
But still, he ached merely watching you sleep and breathe and exist near him. So gentle, so fragile, so… lovely.
"Sometimes I wish I knew how to say these things I feel for you, sweetie," Doctor murmurs, voice filling the quiet space. "I don't have the words you do. You are so very good with your words— I have never wanted to hear someone speak as much as I do with you."
He pauses, listening to the dull, gentle, beautifully rhythmic beating of your heart. A heart he has heard quicken and skip and slow and thensome.
Such a beautiful, lovely thing it is.
For a moment he feels… jealous. Jealous? Yes, he supposes it is jealousy weaving through him, leaving the creature unable to concentrate on his work the longer you lay there vulnerable and unconscious. Jealousy is an… especially strange emotion— it isn't confusing by any stretch of the imagination, but Doctor is left powerless against its powerful weight all the same.
"I can't chase you like Pierrot, charm you like Harlequin," Doctor muses to himself, looking down at the scalpel in his hand and how it slices through the flesh of a specimen he probably won't be able to dissect properly. He's too distracted. So he continues, "I am not as diligent as Ticket Taker nor as confident as Jester— and I don't believe my words or hands could ever be as gentle as hers were."
He sighs, dropping the metal tool with a clatter against the metal tray, the scent of old blood making Doctor feel more agitated than relaxed. He allows himself a moment to change his gloves not for himself, but for you. You, the little human who needs to be treated gently in comparison to them. The human with a sweet smile. The human who is so stubborn. The human who, despite everything they had been through together and individually, seems to care about them all a great deal.
Love and jealousy and hunger and ache— to Doctor they're all the same feelings, muddled and gray-toned inside of his colorblind heart. But he wants so badly to see the shades, the nuances. Some part of him desires nothing more than understanding. But when understanding fails, observation and study often make up for it. Maybe that's why Doctor enjoys his experiments— to try and understand all the parts of the world that make no sense in a way his brain.
He stalks towards your sleeping form, voice low and gentle, but dripping with something he couldn't describe. It tastes almost like blood.
"You know how hard it is to let you walk out of this tent? The restraint I have to enact so that I don't strap you down to this very share you seem to be oh-so-comfortable in?"
You don't answer, obviously unconcious and (given how you snuggle even deeper into the blanket) completely unaware of Doctor's own monologue.
He huffs. How can frustration and affection swirl so perfectly within him at such a sight? How can he make you understand all of these feelings threatening to burst from his chest and bleed down his torso?
"I want to love you, sweetie, but I do not know how. I don't know what love is like— I just know…" he sighs, mask suddenly feeling too tight across his face. It's an annoying sensation that reminds him of when he's molting, all itchy and uncomfortable. "… I want you near me. All the time. I want your smile. Your laughter. I want you to tell me about your day. I want to share space with you, to see you fall asleep on my chair and my bed—"
Doctor has to chuckle, breaking him off from his thoughts. He barely remembered to sleep in his own bed— but maybe with you waiting for him, he'd remember more often.
"It is a shame you are not a monster," he finally says, grief filling every syllable. "I cannot bite you. Cannot… mark you. My kind is… not intimate in the way humans are. Familiar, intimate even? You hold my hand without reason and ask me questions without needing the answer. So confusing of you, sweetie…"
He sighs, reaching a hand up to adjust the mask over his true face, wishing for a moment he could take it off and lean over you like a ravenous phantom just to indulge in the addictive taste of your flesh and blood.
Oh, the taste…
You can't wake up now. You can't open your eyes to see him like this, shamefully feral and on the edge of sanity. You're not supposed to see him like this, the terrifying creature that he is to most humans. You're not supposed to be afraid of him— not you. Never you.
"I want…." Doctor takes in a deep breath. It's amazing how big his hand is compared to yours, the size difference stark and stunning in how he holds the headrest of the chair in a hapless attempt to calm himself.
"I want to hold you. Tight. Tight enough that your body melds with mind. I want our ribs entwined and our hearts to beat together— every drop of blood, every scrap of viscera—
I want to be so entirely part of you and you of me that nobody could identify one from the other. I want to feel your pulse sing for me, I want our organs to dance together and our veins to knit into eachother like a mating veil so that we are always and forever complete, I want—"
He stops, words and noise ceasing entirely the moment you begin to stir. Doctor immediately as back and adjusts himself, even reaching a hand up to his leather mask to make sure it was still on tight and secure— you don't need to wake up to that yet. Maybe one day he'd let you see him. Maybe one day.
"Hmm…. Doct….tor?"
Your eyes flutter open, a soft and small motion that he notices instantly. His blood is still searing inside of him, choking him for a sense of decency he knows that humans feel most comfortable with. He has to force an answer across his tongue and pretend he doesn't want to grab you and secure you onto his table so that you could never ever leave him—
"You fell asleep," he says, the act sublime. "I was… about to clean up for the evening. Didn't mean to disturb you, my sleepy, oblivious little patient."
You're too groggy to pick up the odd wording. Doctor tilts his head after a moment.
"Are you well enough to go home?"
You blink, then let out a yawn. Doctor suddenly understands all of the things that Pierrot goes on about whenever he's being overly sentimental, all the things that he once pondered about. Oh, how suddenly Doctor begins to understand it all.
This wretched, terrifying, beautiful, obsessive feeling they call love.
Because there's nothing in the universe that could compare to the emotions inside of Doctor's body soul and heart when your soft lips part to answer him with such delicious honesty:
"…Could I stay with you tonight? I'm… really tired actually."
It's a good thing you can't hear their heartbeats, because otherwise Doctor wouldn't have been able to hide his utter elation. He wouldn't be able to hide the way his body tenses at the thought of you sleeping next to him— he'd probably end up wearing his uniform, and you'd probably ask him about it, but none of that mattered when he knew he'd spend the quiet hours of the early morning watching you slumber with his hands settled on your waist.
He could count your breathing rate. He could notate all the blemishes on your skin. He could attempt to calculate the rhythm of your pulse and how your body relaxed in unconscious.
"Of course you can, sweetie," he finally says, pretending to be feeling everything he isn't in that very moment. "I enjoy having you around me." I love you. "You are always welcome in my tent." I want you to stay forever.
Doctor doesn't know for sure what love is, but he thinks he's on the right track— perhaps some more experiments are in order.
more theories/evidence about memory wipes + silver trees + qifrey + olruggio + coco + tower of tomes
me and @ladysdork have been chatting about the olly knows theory tonight and i think we came across something super interesting.
MORE EVIDENCE THAT OLLY KNOWS AND NEVER LOST HIS MEMORIES OF THE SILVERTREE AND COCO WILL BE THE ONE TO GET HIS SILVERTREE CURE OVER THE LINE. i think olly's lying to qifrey's face the whole time about losing his memories. he promises qifrey he'll never have to lie to him again. and what's a lie only a friend would tell? one that saves his life. that keeps him safe. i have a more in depth post about that here if you're interested.
there's a scene i hadn't even considered as relevant until now. the scene when coco runs away to the tower of tomes in chapter 37.
first of all, who ends up being there. just coco, qifrey, and olruggio. cause olly blows beldaruit away lmao. qifrey collects coco, coco "saves" qifrey, and olly protects the window way. and throws that explodey rock at the sea serpent.
the tower of tomes is where qifrey first turns into the silvertree, where olly ~gives up his memories.
so basically the theory is this. when olruggio first goes into the tower of tomes, he IS searching for a silverwood tree cure, not a memory spell, but all the documents he could use for that are missing. qifrey says this. that the documents about the forest have somehow been destroyed that could easily include silverwood info. and olly's running out of time, so instead he comes up with the memory wipe idea as a stop gap because he's going to have to start a silverwood tree cure from scratch. how many times do we see olly invent something for qifrey. a lot the glow rings, the snugstone. so olly has an almighty task of finding a cure.
we see olly's reactions to coco's creative ideas a few times in the story, and despite being a creative and talented witch himself, he's always floored by her ideas.
when coco runs away to the tower in ch 38, what does she do? she doesn't choose the tower, she doesn't choose the great hall, she chooses qifrey. she's going to get to the tower of tomes and choose qifrey again later in the story. i think she goes there with olruggio.
the tower didn't provide an answer for olruggio, but there is hope. the child of hope. coco. just like iguin calls her.
and here we have olly talking about hope too. that we can still change qifrey back, that there's a better way.
and the thing that really stopped me in my tracks was this parallel.
coco running to the tower in ch 37.
olly running to the tower in chapter 92
these panels are so incredible similar. same pose, wind blowing their robes, the tower in the distance. who are the two people we see qifrey treeing out from? olruggio and coco.
and what if this is the glowstone path connection between olruggio and coco. what if olruggio originally created the path for qifrey and then in turn that path leads coco to olruggio. that path is the reason coco falls in love with magic. if coco doesn't fall in love with magic, olly never saves qifrey. olruggio needs coco's creativity and her perspective having come to magic as an outsider.
and olruggio's not just a beacon of light for qifrey, he's a beacon of light for magic, for coco. his glowstone path is a beacon of light. a light in the dark, a guiding torch.
and this part is more speculation but i think it plays out like this. olruggio finds out coco knows about the tree. he trusts her and fills her in on what he did all those years ago outside the tower of tomes. he fills her in on all his research he's been doing for decades. he's been building a cure from scratch and this is where he's at. he's stuck and has been for years. it's why he doesn't take care of himself. it's why his cloak is so heavy. so he doesn't forget the weight of the secret he's carrying.
olruggio's specialty is fire. he's going to default to using fire to fix qifrey. so him and coco start working together. in the dead of night to hide this from qifrey. if qifrey learns olly knows, it's all over. however, qifrey does pick up on those two spending more time together and eventually grows suspicious.
olruggio is the one to take coco to the tower of tomes. however, qifrey follows them. finds them before they go in, learns of their plans, and promptly turns into a silvertree. olly and coco are in a time crunch again. coco goes into the tower, chooses qifrey in whatever way. (i don't think she'd choose qifrey over her mom i think she finds a way for both things) comes back out and has the missing piece olly needs for his spell.
we see him create a fireball that doesn't burn humans. he's the master of fire, the cure is going to be burning that tree out of qifrey. it'll burn the tree, but not the human. and what wand do we specifically see olruggio use in the story? a wand that sears seals into wood.
olruggio burns the seal into the wood and they get rid of the silvertree for good and they got there because of coco. because olruggio created the glowstone path for qifrey that made coco love magic, the path led coco to olruggio, and coco is why olruggio can save qifrey.
Also, please follow rikathesmolpupper. They inspired me to make these headcanons.
Columbina
She smells like roses and cherries.
Columbina loves to play the circus stall games and try to win a few prizes.
She loves it when her partner/MC plays with her hair and horns.
Columbina's monster form is somewhat Bovine.
Columbina has powerful legs. She kicks HARD. She could break ribs if she wanted too.
Her favorite flavor of food is sweet.
Her favorite season is Spring, she loves flowers.
She is pansexual.
Columbina is STRONG. She looks cute and dainty like a porcelain doll, but don't let that fool you. She could throw a full-grown human with one hand over one of the circus tents.
She loves lolita fashion.
Columbina LOVES it when he partner/MC paints her nails and hooves.
She likes to decorate her mask.
Her favorite fruit is apples.
Columbina is the most emotionally intelligent one in the circus.
She doesn't like rough play in bed. If you have read my Valentines Day Series, she likes soft play in bed. Gentle whispers, I love you's, and sweet embraces.
She HATES mushrooms with a passion.
She doesn't like beans. She hates the texture of them.
Her kisses taste like cotton candy and strawberries.
Her release ( cum ) tastes like pink lemonade and raspberries.
She loves to dance.
She would love it if her partner/MC tied ribbons onto her horns.
I loved how you did the tfc members' sfw alphabet, but now i wonder, will you include Columbina too like some other works too? If not, it's ok.
Aside of all of that, i want you to have a nice time there :D
lowkey, I was waiting for someone to ask about her!
ᓭི༏ᓯྀ ── Ink spun from my own fingertips—please don’t take, mirror, or rewrite it.
꩜ Warning: absolutely adorable and sweetly fluff ! ── ᓭི༏ᓯྀ
look, i know i said i was going to post harlequin nsfw, but my dumbass legit forgot about columbina because nobody ask about her, and honestly? i've been thinking about her a lot. there's not as much canon information on her as the others—she's more of a haunting presence than an active character—but that almost makes her more interesting to explore.
and if you type her name as your name at the start of the game? she has something to say:
"we are not the same. you and i. i didn't want to, but our fate was cursed. i shouldn't have listened to him. it was my fault."
"him." and the screen shows jester’s eyes. interesting, right? neko really said morally gray characters only and meant it.
so let's talk about columbina! to give her justice, she's going to be alive, because she deserved better than that fuck-ass mirror and horrible death, so the trauma is still there, she's just alive!
a = affection
how does she show affection? what does it look like?
columbina is openly, desperately affectionate.
like imagine her like pierrot's mirror in some ways—all about love, desperately devoted, prone to the same obsessive, possessive tendencies. but where pierrot is quiet and smothering tenderness, columbina is open about it. she's clingy. she's needy. she wants ALL of your attention and she's not afraid to ask for it.
she doesn't hide it. doesn't bury it under grief or performance or fear. when she loves, she loves loudly—or as loudly as someone without a voice can manage.
she shows it through, like constant physical contact.
her hand in yours. her head on your shoulder. her body pressed against your side like she's trying to merge with you. she's always touching—not in a demanding way, but in a way that says i need to know you're real.
following you everywhere. not stalking (unlike pierrot), just... being there. if you're in a room, she's in that room. if you move to another room, she's behind you within seconds, looking at you with those big pink eyes like where did you go i missed you.
gifts. small things she finds or makes. pretty stones. pressed flowers. little notes she's written in shaky handwriting (she's been practicing, don’t make fun of her). she'll present them to you with this hopeful, anxious expression, waiting to see if you like them.
attention. all of it. every drop. when you're talking, she's listening—not just hearing, but absorbing. your words go into her like water into soil, and she grows from them.
she's not subtle. she's not shy. she loves you and she wants you to know it, every second of every day.
(omg, imagine pierrot + columbina both begging for your attention at the same time. imagine them tugging at your sleeves, pressing against your sides, looking at you with those big pink eyes like you're the only thing in the world that matters. imagine having two of them!)
b = best friend
what would she be like as a friend? how would it start?
columbina makes friends the way a sunflower turns toward the sun, so just inevitably, desperately, with her whole being.
it starts with curiosity. she sees you from across the circus, so maybe you're kind to someone, maybe you laugh at something stupid, maybe you just look at her in a way that doesn't make her feel like a monster and she's interested. she wants to know more.
so she watches. not creepily, just from a distance. trying to work up the courage to approach.
eventually, she does. she just... appears. one day you're alone, and the next she's there, standing nearby, looking at you with those hopeful pink eyes like please talk to me please please please.
if you're kind to her, or if you smile, wave, say hello, she’ll melts no matter what . her whole face softens. she moves closer, slowly, carefully, like approaching a wounded animal (ironic… considering, sorry).
like, it’s not a joke that being her friend, she gonna to do the following:
be clingy. she wants to be around you at all times. if you don’t mind, she'll be stuck to you like glue. and if you do need some space, she'll respect it. but she'll be sad about it. looking at you from across the room with puppy eyes.
hella supportive. whatever it is you are doing, she'll be there for it. drawing? she'll sit there and stare at you for hours, fascinated. reading? she'll sit there and pretend to read too (she can’t really read, but she'll pretend). feeling sad? she'll hold you and never let you go.
stright up protective. not in a bad way. in a good way. like, she'll stand in front of you when someone’s being mean to you. and her small stature will be intimidating. and her pink eye will be a threat.
filled with so much fun. she loves playing. games, dances, competitions. she'll challenge you to staring contests (she'll win every time. she’s had practice). or see who can balance on things the longest. or who can make the other one laugh first.
absolutely needy. she needs reassurance. needs to hear that you still like her. still want her around. still consider her a friend. not because she’s insecure. okay, maybe because she is insecure. but because everyone she’s ever loved has left her. and she’s scared that you will too.
being her friend means being chosen. overwhelmingly.
c = cuddles
does she like physical affection? what does it look like?
omg, columbina lives for cuddles!
like it's her favorite thing in the world. she's always cold for some odd reason, so her body doesn't generate warmth like yours—so being close to you is physically comforting as well as emotionally necessary. she'll seek out any opportunity to press against you, to wrap herself around you, to absorb your warmth.
so, here’s her ideal cuddle scene: you’re chillin’ someplace comfortable, like a couch, bed, or a neatly arranged pile of blankets she’s carefully constructed, and she’s snuggled up right against you. her head’s on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. her arms are around your waist. your legs are all tangled up together. as much physical contact as possible.
she purrs. yes, she purrs. not loudly, just a soft, humming vibration that you feel rather than hear. It starts whenever she’s comfortable and happy, which is pretty much anytime she’s in contact with you.
if she starts it: she’ll go from zero to fucking sixty in two seconds. her face changes completely, her pink eyes going wide with excitement. she’ll snuggle up to you right away, making those happy noises!
if she starts it: she’ll just sort of... appear. Snuggle up beside you. Lean into you. If you don’t pull away, she’ll snuggle up even closer until she’s all cuddled up. She’s very perceptive, too, and if you’re not in the mood, she’ll snuggle up to you anyway, looking sad, and stay close by, just in case your mood improves.
so, cuddling with columbina is warm, comfortable, and never-ending.
she’ll stay like that forever if you let her.
d = domestic
what would a quiet life with her look like?
columbina’s dream is pathetically simple: a home, with you, forever.
like imagine domesticity as a buffer against the hard edges of every day: blankets piled in corners, pillows stacked in cozy little cities, and hot drinks for you.
soft lighting that makes everything comfortable, spaces that are designed for snuggling. It’s quiet, but it’s not silence. It’s the sound of your breathing, the quiet thud of her moving around the room, the tiny sounds that add up to home.
She's absolutely the type to talk your ear off about anything, and how the world talks back in the way it looks at her, in the way it touches her, in the occasional words she’s able to scrawl.
affectionate in small, constant ways. a hand on your shoulder as she goes by, her head in your lap as you read, her back against yours as you cook. she needs touch like a plant needs sun. a little messy, very cute. she’s not clean. she doesn’t pretend to be. she’s organized, as far as she’s concerned, in a heap of things she loves: pretty rocks, flowers, trinkets she’s picked up along the way.
your space would be bathed in her treasures.
the best moments are waking up to find her already awake, meeting her eyes as you open them. coming home to find she’s made something for you: a drawing, a bouquet of things she’s found and arranged, a note in her handwriting that’s slowly getting better.
good times spent side by side, connected without words, in perfect, peaceful harmony. She can cook, sort of. She tries to help, hands you ingredients, watches you cook so she can figure out what you need. she cleans with a precision that makes the space nice. But most of all, she warms the air.
Just being around her makes everything feel safe and comfortable.
e = ending
how would things end? what would that look like?
oh, well columbina has been waiting for the ending her whole life.
okay… that was a bit too dark, but she knows humans come and go, humans drift away, people wake up one day to the reality that she is too much, not enough, wrong.
if she ends it, she won’t. she can’t. she won’t. you’re the first person who has ever really seen her—ever really seen her—not as a doll, not as a monster, not as something to be used, but as herself. she would rather die than make you choose to let her go.
if you end it, she would fall apart—not in any dramatic fashion, but in subtle ways. her pink eyes would dim, her pace would slow, she would no longer search for you, no longer touch you, no longer be the part of her that makes you hers.
but she would never leave you.
she would simply exist on the periphery of your life, watching from afar, hoping that you would come back, that you would change your mind.
but she would leave you little reminders, gifts, tokens of her love for you, because even though you would have rejected her, even though you would have broken her, she would still love you.
because that's what love is, to her, even when forever hurts.
f = fiancé(e)
how does she feel about commitment? would she want to marry?
omg columbina wants commitment the way she wants air, constantly, without question, with every fiber of her being.
the thought of being chosen, like officially, forever—almost overwhelms her. She’d cry if she could. Instead, she just... hums with it. Joy, terror, a rush of feeling that swallows her whole.
if you asked her, she’d freeze. go completely still. Her pink eye would widen and glow, and for a long, awful moment you’d think you’d broken her.
then she’d fling herself at you. arms circling your neck, body pressed close, those little happy sounds that mean yes yes yes yes yes.
she can’t say the words. but she’d show you—hundreds of ways, every day, for the rest of your lives.
what marriage means to her will be filled of permanence. like you’re not leaving and she’s not leaving. This is forever. belonging. like she’s yours. you’re hers. everyone knows it. everyone respects it.
nothing can pull you apart now.
nothing will pull you apart now.
love. All of it. Every drop. Forever and ever and ever. even though she’s a monster, she’d want a small ceremony—just you, since you’re human, maybe pierrot (complicated, but he matters), maybe a few others. She’d want something real, something meaningful, something that marks this moment as the start of the rest of your lives.
g = gentle
how gentle is she? physically and emotionally?
columbina is made of gentleness.
her touch is as light as a feather, as soft as silk, as gentle as a cool breeze on your skin. she’s afraid of breaking you—afraid that her monster strength would break the bones in your precious body if she isn’t too careful. so she handles you as if you’re glass.
but when the time calls for it, when fear or pain takes ahold of you, she’s as solid as a rock. She’ll envelop you, hold you close, protect you from the world until you’re ready to face it again.
she’s a sponge for your emotions. she soaks them all in—your happiness and your pain. So if you’re feeling good, she’ll shine for you. and if you’re feeling bad, she’ll feel that too, taking some of the pain onto herself.
she isn’t manipulative about any of this. she doesn’t use your emotions as a tool for whatever she wants. She just feels them with you, because that’s what love means to her. She’s not weak; she’s chosen to be soft in a world that would have hardened you both into nothing.
h = hugs
what are her hugs like? does she like them?
omg, so columbina's hugs are like whole-body experiences.
she does not enfold you in her arms; she immerses herself into you. Her face fits into the nook of your chin. Her body fits from your chest down to your knee. Her arms hug you, tight, but not tight enough to hurt. They are tight with a sense of security, as if she fears that you will leave her if she does not hold you tight enough.
She hums as she hugs you. A contented hum that lets you know that she’s happy, that she’s home.
she has every fucking type of hug, a good morning hugs. goodnight hugs, ‘I missed you’ hugs, even after five minutes of being apart hugs, ‘I’m happy’ hugs, ‘I’m sad’ hugs, and ‘I just need to feel you’ hugs
now if you are receptive, she’ll hug you a dozen times a day. If you want space, she’ll give it to you. But her big pink eyes will follow you with a plea of, come back, I want to hug you.
the best hugs are the long ones, the ones where you just stand there, holding each other, being with each other. She’ll stay like that with you for hours, as long as you want. She’s stayed like that with you after you’ve had a bad day, as long as you needed to be held.
her hugs are declarations. ‘you are mine. I am yours.’
please don’t ever let go.
i = i love you
does she say it? how does she express it?
holy shit, she says it constantly.
her voice is the sweetest thing you've ever heard—soft and warm and sincere, like honey mixed with sunlight. when she talks, you want to lean in closer, want to hear every word, want to wrap yourself in the sound of her.
and what she says, more than anything else, is i love you.
she says it in the morning, first thing, when she opens her eyes and sees you there.
"good morning, my love. i love you."
she says it throughout the day, randomly, because she looks at you and the feeling just spills out. "i love you. did i tell you that already? i love you."
she says it at night, last thing, curled against you in the dark. "i love you. sleep well. i'll be right here."
but it's not just the words. it's everything.
it's the way she looks at you across a crowded room, her pink eyes soft and shining, like you're the only person who exists.
it's the way she reaches for you in her sleep, her hand searching until it finds yours, her face relaxing when she knows you're still there.
it's the way she listens when you talk—really listens, with her whole attention, like every word you say is precious and important and worth remembering forever.
it's the way she protects you. fiercely. absolutely. anyone who hurts you answers to her, and she's terrifying when she needs to be.
it's the way she waits for you. always. however long it takes. because you're worth waiting for.
and sometimes, when she's feeling playful, she'll find new ways to say it. she'll leave you little notes with "i love you" written in her improving handwriting. she'll spell it out with small objects she's collected. she'll sing it—little made-up songs that are just for you, silly and sweet and hers.
"i love you," she says, and you hear it in everything she does.
over and over and over. and you never get tired of it.
j = jealousy
does she get jealous? what does it look like?
oh, she gets jealous alright.
well, not in a scary, controlling way—columbina isn't like that. she doesn't want to lock you away or keep you from others. but she feels things deeply, and jealousy is one of them.
it happens when you give attention to someone else. especially pierrot or harlequin—there's history there, and seeing you with them stirs up all kinds of feelings. but really, anyone who threatens to take even a moment of your attention away from her?
she wilts.
can definitely imagine her getting quiet, like not in her usual peaceful way—in a sad way. her voice, which is usually so warm and present, fades to barely a whisper.
she stops touching you as much. not to punish you—never to punish you—but because she's afraid. afraid that you don't want her touch anymore. afraid that you've found someone better to hold.
she watches you with the other person, her pink eyes soft and wounded, and there's a question in them:
do you still want me? am i not enough?
she might leave little things near you—a flower she picked, a note she wrote, a small treasure she found. little reminders that she's still there. still yours. still waiting.
if you notice and reassure her: she blooms. instantaneously.
her whole face lights up. those two pink eyes go bright and happy again. she's back to touching you, clinging to you, pressing her face against you. she might even laugh—that sweet, musical sound—and say, "i'm sorry, i'm silly, i just... i love you so much. i don't want to lose you."
however, if you don't notice, she'll withdraw further. slowly, quietly, she'll fade into the background. she won't stop loving you—she couldn't if she tried—but she'll start preparing herself. for the abandonment she's always expected. for the moment you realize she's not enough.
her jealousy isn't possessive. it's fearful. fear that she's not enough. fear that you'll leave. fear that this beautiful thing you have will shatter like everything else she's ever loved.
the solution is simple: notice her. touch her. choose her.
look at her with those two pink eyes and say, "hey. you're mine. i'm yours. nothing changes that."
she'll never get tired of being chosen. never.
k = kisses
what are her kisses like? where does she like to be kissed?
columbina's kisses are everythingggggg~
she has a mouth and tongue—soft, short and pink, just perfect for kissing—and she uses it constantly. on you. whenever she can. wherever you'll let her.
her kisses are always soft, you know. she treats them like they’re handling something precious. because to her, you are. she kisses you a lot when she greets you. morning, night, hello, goodbye. at random too, just because she saw you and couldn’t resist.
sometimes, she kisses you playfully. kisses your nose to get a smile from you. kisses your forehead, long and slow. Kisses each of your knuckles, one by one, like they’re something precious to count.
and there’s sincerity in each kiss. Each kiss holds a message. A small ‘I love you’ pressed against your skin.
where she likes to kiss you, well she can’t help but look at your lips first. obviously, she loves them; they’re your favorite part, after all. she will put her head back, those pink eyes squinting in a half-smile, waiting for you to close the distance. And then, bliss.
and then there’s your forehead. just so tender, sweet.
the kind of kiss that says I will take care of you. She loves your nose too. So playful, so silly. The kind of kiss that makes you smile, which in turn makes her laugh, and then everything seems a little brighter.
and then there’s your hands. she loves those. she loves kissing each of the fingers individually. it’s an intimacy that makes you feel completely seen, almost worshipped.
even the place behind your ear?
the secret, the special one she saves for when she’s feeling extra sweet.
and for her, where she likes to be kissed, duh—her lips, of course. dhe’ll melt into you, her hands going to cradle your face, a soft, happy sound escaping from between her lips.
the forehead, situated as it is between those two pink peepers, sends a joyful shiver running down your spine, causing her to lean in even further. the corner of the mouth remains a playful, teasing thing; she’ll chase your lips if you try to pull back from the kiss, giggling.
the cheeks, both cheeks, light up if you cup her face and kiss each cheek in turn, left cheek then right cheek, as if you’re trying to make her feel cherished. the neck, at the juncture of the neck and the shoulder... that spot makes her go soft, the breath catching in her throat, her fingers gripping your sleeves.
the eyelids, closed and trusting... kissing there is like touching the very soul of the woman. she’ll return the kiss with everything she’s got every single time, and she’ll never get tired of it.
like imagine her she's curled up next to you on the couch, her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing patterns on your arm. after a long comfortable silence, she tilts her head up to look at you.
"hey." her voice is soft, sweet, that honey-warm sound you love. "i love you." she says it simply, like it's the most natural thing in the world. like she's telling you the sky is blue or the sun is warm. just a fact. just her.
"did you know that? i know i say it a lot. i just... i need you to know. i need you to know."
she nuzzles closer, pressing a kiss to your jaw.
"what are you thinking about?" she looks up at you, those two pink eyes wide and curious and full of love. waiting for you. always waiting for you.
you're both in the kitchen—you're making tea, she's "helping" by standing close and occasionally handing you things. she's humming that little melody of hers, the one that means she's happy.
when you turn around, she's right there. closer than you expected. those pink eyes sparkling with mischief.
"boop." she reaches up and taps your nose, giggling at your expression.
"sorry, sorry, i couldn't help it. you just looked so boopable." she wraps her arms around your waist, pressing her cheek to your chest.
"you're not mad, are you? i'll make it up to you. i'll give you... hmm... ten kisses. no, twenty. a hundred kisses."
she tilts her head up, lips puckered, eyes scrunched closed in exaggerated anticipation.
"starting... now."
it's late. you're both in bed, the lights low, her curled against you like she always is. her voice is soft, sleepy, barely above a whisper.
"hey." she paused, just a bit, "can i tell you something? something important?" she moves around, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. her pink eyes are serious, sincere, shining in the dim light.
"i used to be so scared. of everything. of loving people, of them leaving, of being alone. and then you came along and just... stayed. you kept staying. every day. and i..."
her voice catches, just slightly.
"i'm not scared anymore. not when i'm with you. you make me feel like... like i'm home. like i finally found where i belong." she leans down, pressing her forehead to yours.
"thank you. for staying. for choosing me. for loving me back."
i love you. i love you. i love you.
she says it without saying it, and you hear it perfectly.
l = little ones
how is she around children?
oh, children love columbina.
it makes sense, really. the visual novel mentions it—back then, humans were always more likely to approach her because she's so pink and soft and feminine. less scary than the others.
so that means the children don't see a monster at all. they just see something pretty. something interesting. something that looks like it might be fun.
and columbina? she loves them right back.
you're walking through the circus with her when a small child—maybe five years old, clutching a stuffed rabbit—spots her from across the way. the child's eyes go wide.
"pretty lady!"
columbina freezes for half a second, then looks at you with this expression, so like half delight, half panic, because, like she's not sure what to do.
the child is already running over.
columbina crouches down to their level, those two pink eyes soft and warm. she glances at you again—help, what do i do, i don't know how to child—and you just smile and nod.
"hi there," she says softly, her sweet voice gentle. "what's your name?"
the child tells her. something unpronounceable.
something adorable. columbina listens like it's the most important information she's ever received. "that's a beautiful name. and who's this?" she gestures to the stuffed rabbit.
another torrent of child-explanation. the rabbit's name, its age, its favorite foods, its tragic backstory. columbina absorbs it all, nodding seriously, asking follow-up questions.
you watch her face, filled with genuinely interested, genuinely delighted. the child has no idea they're talking to a monster. they just know they've found someone who listens.
after a few minutes, the child tugs on her sleeve.
"can you do a twirl? pretty ladies should twirl."
columbina laughs—that sweet musical sound—and stands. she looks at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement, and then she twirls. gracefully, beautifully, her soft pink form spinning in the afternoon light.
the child gasps. claps. "AGAIN!"
she twirls again. and again. and again, until she's dizzy and laughing and the child is absolutely delighted.
when the child's parent finally comes to collect them, columbina waves goodbye with the same sincere warmth she'd wave to an old friend.
she turns to you, still smiling, slightly out of breath.
"that was..." she pauses, searching for the word. "nice. really nice. they just... they didn't..."
she doesn't finish the sentence.
so, later, you ask her about it.
you're curled up together, her head on your chest, your fingers running through her soft black hair.
"you're really good with kids," you say.
she's quiet for a moment before saying, “they don't know," she says softly. "they don't know what i am. what i've done. they just see... me.” her voice gets even softer.
"it's nice. being seen like that. just... as someone pretty. someone who twirls. someone who listens."
you press a kiss to the top of her head. "that's who you are," you say. "that's who you've always been."
she looks up at you, those pink eyes shining. "do you think..." she hesitates. "do you think i could be... good at it? with kids, i mean. like, really good at it?" you smile.
"i think you already are."
if you have children together:
it's something you talk about, eventually. quietly, in the dark, when it's just the two of you and the whole world feels possible. "do you want that?" she asks, her voice small. "a family? with me?"
you turn to look at her. those pink eyes are wide, hopeful, terrified. "only if you want it too," you say.
she's quiet for a long moment.
"i'm scared," she admits. "what if i'm not good at it? what if i mess up? what if something happens to them because of me?"
you pull her closer. "you won't mess up. and nothing will happen to them. because they'll have you. and you're the most protective person i know."
she laughs, "i do have a tendency to... hover."
"you have a tendency to love fiercely. that's not a bad thing."
she's quiet again. then, softly: "i think... i think i'd like that. a family. with you. little ones who look at me the way that child did. like i'm something good."
you kiss her forehead. "you are something good."
and when it happens—when there's a child, your child, small and perfect and looking up at her with those same trusting eyes—
columbina glows.
she's everything you knew she'd be. patient and gentle and present. she teaches them to dance, little spinning twirls in the kitchen. she teaches them to appreciate small beautiful things—a pretty stone, a fallen leaf, the way light catches dust motes in the afternoon. she teaches them to love without fear, because she's finally learning to do it herself.
and yes, she hovers. yes, she worries. yes, you have to reassure her constantly that the child is fine, that they're safe, that she's not going to lose them.
you're watching her with the little one on her lap, both of them looking at you with those big pink eyes, the two sets of them now, mirror images.
"they have your eyes," you say.
columbina looks down at the child, then back at you, and her smile is the softest thing you've ever seen. "they have your heart," she whispers back. the child, oblivious to the moment, tugs on columbina's sleeve.
"twirl?"
columbina laughs. stands. lifts the child carefully. "twirl," she agrees.
and she spins them both, slowly, carefully, the two people you love most in the world laughing together in the afternoon light.
you think: this is it. this is everything.
that night, when the child is asleep, she curls against you in bed. "thank you," she whispers.
"for what?"
"for this. for them. for trusting me with something so precious."
you hold her closer. "there's no one else i'd trust more."
she's quiet for a moment. then, softly: "do you think they'll be okay? in this world? with us?"
you press a kiss to her hair. "they'll be more than okay. they'll be loved. completely. fiercely. forever." she hums, content, safe in your arms.
"forever," she agrees.
m = morning
what are mornings like with her?
mornings with columbina are the softest thing you'll ever experience.
so, you wake slowly, consciousness drifting back like morning light through curtains. and the first thing you're aware of—before you even open your eyes—is her.
columbina is already awake. has been for a while, probably. she's curled on her side, facing you, propped up on one elbow. and she's just... watching. those two pink eyes soft and warm and full of something that makes your chest ache.
when she sees you stirring, her whole face lights up.
"morning, sleepy," she whispers, her sweet voice gentle as a lullaby. "you're back."
you blink at her. "back? i didn't go anywhere."
she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "you were dreaming. that's like going somewhere. i missed you."
her morning routine with you is sacred. she's developed little rituals, little ways of starting your day together. she helps you get ready, not because you need help, but because she loves being near you. loves handing you things. loves the domesticity of it.
"here's your shirt. i picked the soft one, you like the soft one best."
she brushes your hair if you'll let her, standing behind you, working through it with infinite patience. you can feel her humming against your back, that little melody she does when she's happy.
"your hair is so pretty," she murmurs. "i love your hair. i love you. did i mention that yet today? i love you."
breakfast is... well. she can't cook. you've learned this the hard way.
"i tried," she says defensively, watching you survey the... thing on the plate. "i followed the instructions. mostly. i think the smoke was supposed to happen."
you love her so much it's almost painful.
"it's the thought that counts," you say, and she beams.
she sits across from you while you eat something less alarming, her chin propped on her hands, watching you with those soft pink eyes like you're the most fascinating thing she's ever seen.
"you chew funny," she observes.
"thanks."
"it's cute. everything you do is cute. i'm obsessed with you. is that weird to say?"
"a little."
"okay. i'll stop saying it." a small pause. "...i'm obsessed with you."
and then before you separate for the day, well if you have to separate at all—she has one more moment.
she wraps her arms around you, pulls you close, presses her forehead to yours. those pink eyes close. she breathes you in, slow and deep.
"okay," she whispers. "okay. you can go now. i'll be here when you get back. i'm always here."
she holds on for one more second. two. three.
"...you can go," she repeats, not letting go.
you laugh softly. "you have to actually let go first."
"i know. i'm working on it."
n = night
what are nights like with her?
nights are when columbina's love becomes something else. something needy, something more… desperate?
first of all, the dark makes her anxious. she's told you this—not scared, exactly, but aware. aware of all the ways things can go wrong. aware of all the people who've been lost. aware that nothing good lasts forever.
so at night, she clings.
she follows you around while you get ready for bed, a hopeful pink shadow hovering at your elbow.
"are you almost done? can we go to bed now? how about now? now?"
"columbina, i'm brushing my teeth."
"i can wait. i'm very patient. look how patient i am."
she's not patient. she's vibrating with the need to be close to you.
when you finally settle into bed, she's there instantly. curled against you. pressed as close as she can physically get. her head on your chest, her arm over your stomach, her leg tangled with yours. maximum contact.
she hums, soft and content, the vibration against your skin soothing.
"this is the best part of my day," she whispers. "right here. with you."
you run your fingers through her hair, and she melts further into you.
"you don't have to stay awake," you tell her. "i'm not going anywhere."
"i know. i just... like being here. with you. feeling you."
she tilts her head up, presses a kiss to your jaw. "sleep well, my love. i'll be right here."
o = open
how open is she about herself? does she share her past?
columbina is an open book written in a language you have to learn, and she desperately wants you to read every page.
from the very beginning of your relationship, she's been trying to find ways to let you in—to show you the parts of herself that she's kept hidden from everyone else.
she'll dance for you, telling stories with her body that words could never capture: the boss’s cruelty becomes a sharp, broken movement; the incident becomes a slow, desperate reach for something just out of grasp; the moments that broke her become a series of falls and recoveries, each one more heartbreaking than the last.
she'll use gestures, pointing at things that remind her of her past, acting out scenes with her whole body, pulling you into her world one silent story at a time. she's been practicing her writing, leaving you notes in shaky, imperfect handwriting—explanations of her fears, her hopes, the dreams she has at night that she can't quite articulate any other way.
certain touches have come to mean certain things between you: when she places her hand over your heart, she's telling you ‘this is where you live’; when she presses her forehead to yours, she's saying’—
‘i trust you with everything i am.’
she'll take you to places that matter—the corner of the circus where she used to hide as a child, the spot where she first saw something beautiful after years of only seeing ugliness, the places she's collected like treasures just waiting for someone to share them with. it takes time to learn her language, to understand what each
movement and gesture and touch means.
but once you do? once you finally get her? you'll know her better than anyone ever has, better than anyone ever could. because she holds nothing back.
once she trusts you—really, truly trusts you—she gives you everything. every broken piece. every hidden wound. every tiny, precious moment of joy she's managed to collect along the way.
all of it. yours.
p = patience
how patient is she? what tests her limits?
mhm… wanna say she’s capable of patience.
because deep down, she knows she can wait forever if what she wants is worth the wait.
she’s spent her whole life waiting for something good, for someone like you, and now that she has you, waiting almost feels like second nature to her.
she can wait for you to come home, for you to be ready to talk, for you to need her in any way you can, but even rivers run dry eventually, and there are things that will test her patience to the limit.
being apart from you is a kind of torture to her; she will endure it, she will smile and wave and say she’s fine, but the longer they’re apart, the more of her will die. watching you hurt, physically or otherwise, dries up her patience; she can’t just sit there and watch you suffer, she has to do something to stop the hurting, to fix the problem, to wrap herself around you until the world outside can’t find you.
those who push you away, who show you no respect, who treat you like you don’t even exist?
her patience isn’t just a fade into nothingness; it’s a fire that burns, a passion that becomes fierce and protective, so much so that even the other circus performers tread carefully around her.
when you are struggling and she cannot aid you, when you are sad and she cannot comfort you, when you are frightened and she cannot protect you, when you need her and she cannot be with you, her failure to intervene eats at her, makes her pace back and forth, worried and anxious, until she can get back to you.
and, of course, the uncertainty of whether you are alright, whether you still want her, whether you are coming back to her, that eats at her more than anything else. it’s that uncertainty that causes her patience to wear thin, that causes her patience to snap, for she’s spent so much of her life waiting for people who never returned to her.
but for you? for you, she’ll wait.
as long as it takes. however long you need. her patience isn’t infinite; nothing ever is. but her patience, so deep, so vast, so uniquely tied to you, might as well be.
q = quizzes
how much does she remember about you?
columbina remembers everything…
like fucking everything, so like every word you have ever spoken to her, every look you have shared, every touch you have exchanged, all preserved as if you have pressed flowers between the pages of a book she will read forever.
she recalls your favorite color and continues to surprise you with it—a flower, a stone, a ribbon she somehow acquires—offering them to you with the hopeful look in her eyes: Do you see? Do you see that I have noticed? Do you feel that I care?
she recalls the way you like your drinks, specifically tea—how many sugars you take, how you brew it, the temperature you prefer—and even if she cannot brew a cup for you, she watches you as you do so, learning, memorizing, storing every detail for the time when you need them.
she recalls every tale you have ever shared with her about your life—your childhood, your friends, your fears, your dreams—and she recalls them all by heart, recalling them in minute detail when you are low and need reminding of who you are.
she recalls the songs you hum when you are happy, and she hums them back to you, close and quiet, a duet that says I hear you, I see you, I love every single part of you.
she holds your fears close too, ever watchful—placing herself between you and the dark corners of the world, between you and the things that could potentially hurt you, ensuring you feel safe even when the world outside is dark.
she recalls your dreams and wants to help you achieve them—not by pressuring you to do so, but by being there for you, by believing in you, by loving you so completely that you learn to believe in yourself.
it can be heavy at times—the burden of being so completely known, of having someone recall every detail of your life. but mostly?
mostly it is the very best feeling of being loved you have ever experienced. so mostly it is everything.
r = remember
what's her favorite memory with you?
it's so small. so simple.
something you probably didn't even notice, and yet she's replayed it in her mind thousands of times since it happened. you were sitting together, like maybe reading, maybe just existing in comfortable silence, she can't quite remember the context, and you reached out, absentmindedly, and tucked a strand of her hair behind where her ear would be.
just a simple casual touch.
nothing special. nothing that would register as significant to anyone watching. but to her? to columbina, who had spent her whole existence being touched only when someone wanted something from her, being handled like a doll or a tool or a thing? it was everything.
no one had ever touched her like that before. casually. affectionately. without wanting anything in return. just... because.
because she was there. because you wanted to. because she was yours and you were hers and this is just what people do when they love each other. she thinks about it constantly—the warmth of your fingers, the way you smiled when you did it (did you even realize you were smiling? she noticed), the way you didn't seem to notice you'd done something extraordinary.
that was the moment she truly understood.
she saw that you are different.
that this could be… different.
maybe, just maybe, she could dare to hope for something real, something lasting, something good. And now, whenever you touch her casually, whenever you reach for her hand without a second thought, whenever you touch a strand of hair behind her ear, whenever you draw her into your side for no apparent reason, she remembers that moment.
and with each little gesture, each little movement, she falls a little bit more in love with you.
s = security
how protective is she? how does she protect you?
columbina is fiercely protective.
not in a scary, controlling way—in a way that's more like a mama bear defending her cub. absolute, unwavering, and absolutely terrifying to anyone who threatens what's hers.
her first line of defense is simply presence. she's always there. always near. always visible enough that anyone with ill intentions thinks twice before approaching you. threats don't act when they know they're being watched, and columbina is always watching.
her vigilance is constant. she watches everything, everyone—cataloging potential dangers, mapping exits, identifying anyone who looks at you too long or too strangely. nothing gets past her. nothing.
if she perceives a threat, she intervenes quietly. subtly. making sure certain people can't find you. making sure certain doors stay locked. making sure that anyone who might cause you harm suddenly finds themselves... distracted. redirected. otherwise occupied.
and if someone actually threatens you? if someone actually tries to hurt you?
they learn very quickly what a "gentle" creature looks like when she's angry. they learn that columbina, sweet soft pink columbina, has edges sharper than anyone expected. they learn that there are fates worse than whatever the other monsters might do to them.
you come home one day to find her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unusually stern.
"what?" you ask.
"that person. the one who was mean to you yesterday." she pauses. "they won't be mean to anyone anymore."
"...columbina."
"what? i didn't hurt them. much. i just... explained some things. very firmly. with my presence."
she uncrosses her arms, immediately softening.
"no one gets to be mean to you. no one. i won't allow it."
but her protection isn't just about fighting threats—it's about comfort. when the world hurts you, when life beats you down, when you just can't anymore, she's there. holding you. being home. being the safe place you can always return to.
you've had a terrible day. everything went wrong. you're curled on the couch, staring at nothing, too tired to even cry.
she doesn't ask what happened. doesn't push for explanations. she just... appears. curls around you. wraps you in her warmth and her softness and her love.
"i've got you," she whispers. "i've got you. let it out. i'm right here."
and you do. you let it out.
and she holds you through all of it.
she doesn't want you to fight your own battles. she wants to fight them for you. she wants to keep you safe and soft and untouched by the ugliness of the world.
is it healthy? maybe not.
is it a little much? definitely.
"you know," you tell her one night, "i can handle some things myself. you don't have to protect me from everything."
she looks at you with those big pink eyes, completely serious. "i know you can. but you shouldn't have to. not when i'm here.” she sighs, "let me do this for you. please. it's... it's what i'm for."
"you're not 'for' anything. you're just you."
she smiles, soft and warm. "then let 'just me' love you by keeping you safe. okay?"
what can you say to that?
t = try
how much effort does she put into your relationship?
columbina puts all of it into your relationship.
every drop of her being. every moment of her existence. every ounce of love she possesses—all dedicated to you and to building something beautiful together.
sure, she can speak, however she's spent many other ways, countless hours learning to communicate in other ways to show that she care. developing a language of gestures and touches and expressions. practicing her writing until her notes to you are almost legible. finding new and creative ways to make herself understood, because you matter and she needs you to know her.
you find a note on your pillow one morning. the handwriting is shaky, uneven, clearly practiced.
"good morning my love i hope you slept well i love you — columbina"
beneath it, in smaller letters: "p.s. i practiced this seventeen times. the seventeenth one is the best one. that's this one."
you press the note to your heart and smile for the rest of the day.
and then, she can't always be what you need—no one can—but she tries. constantly. desperately. beautifully.
she's learned your language, both literal and emotional. she knows what your different silences mean. what your different smiles indicate. what your different touches are asking for.
"you're quiet tonight," she observes, curled beside you on the couch.
"just tired."
"no." she shakes her head. "that's your thinking quiet. not your tired quiet. something's on your mind."
you stare at her. "how do you—"
"i pay attention." she shrugs, like it's nothing. "you're the most interesting thing in any room. of course i pay attention."
she remembers everything about you. as if memorizing you is the most important task she's ever been given.
she anticipates your needs before you voice them. handing you things you didn't even realize you wanted. being where you need her before you know you need her.
she's there. always. whenever you need her.
and she's growing, changing, becoming better for you every single day. not because you asked her to—because loving you makes her want to be the best version of herself.
"you're different than when we first met," you mention one evening.
she tilts her head. "different how?"
"softer. more confident. like... like you're not waiting for the other shoe to drop anymore."
she considers this.
"i'm not," she says finally. "waiting, i mean. i used to. all the time. waiting for you to leave. waiting for this to end. but somewhere along the way..."
she reaches for your hand.
"...i stopped waiting. and started just... being. with you. loving you. letting myself have this."
"and how does that feel?" she smiles, bright and real.
"like trying. like effort. like the best work i've ever done."
every moment with you is effort—conscious, deliberate, intentional effort to love you well, to make you happy, to build something that lasts.
and yes, it exhausts her sometimes. yes, there are days when she collapses into your arms and just needs to be held, needs to not try for a little while.
"i'm tired," she murmurs against your chest.
"rest, then. i'm not going anywhere."
"i know. i just... i want to keep trying. for you. always."
you press a kiss to her hair. "you don't have to try so hard. i already love you. just as you are."
she's quiet for a moment. "i know," she whispers. "but you make me want to try. you make me want to be better. not because you ask—because loving you makes me feel better. like i can grow. like i can change. like i can become someone worthy of you."
"you're already worthy of me."
"then let me become worthy of myself."
aww, like what can you say to that? nothing. please just hold her if you can. just love her. just keep trying alongside her.
because that's what love is. trying. together. always.
u = ugly
what are her bad habits?
okay so, columbina isn't perfect, she has plenty.
clinginess. she needs to be near you constantly. it can be overwhelming. needing constant reassurance. she asks (without words) if you still love her, still want her, still choose her. constantly.
jealousy. she hides it well, but it's there. always. eating at her. self-doubt. she's convinced she's not enough, that you'll eventually realize it and leave.
smothering. her love can feel like too much. because it is too much. she loves too much. assuming the worst. every silence is rejection. every delay is abandonment.
and inability to be alone. without you, she falls apart. literally. emotionally. existentially.
she's working on it. slowly. with your help.
but old habits die hard. especially when you've spent your whole life being abandoned.
v = vanity
how concerned is she with her appearance?
so, columbina does not pursue beauty.
she seeks acknowledgment. for so long, people have acknowledged her beauty, her monstrosity, her thing-ness—and have never really seen her. they have never really seen her. but you have. you have seen Columbina, not her beauty, not her uniqueness, not her limitations—just her. such an observation is far more precious than any compliment about beauty.
she does enjoy being handled softly, though. as you draw your finger over the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw, where her horns start, it helps ground her. It makes her feel real. Makes her feel yours.
she will never be vain, but perhaps one day she will learn to love what you love about her face.
w = whole
would she feel incomplete without you?
ehh, columbina is already incomplete.
she’s been like that ever since she lost… everything. yet, with you, she feels something she never felt before, like a spark of hope that perhaps she could become whole not because of you, but through the desire to become whole herself, with your help.
without you, she continues to move. she’s learned to make do, to continue to exist. but to make do without you would mean nothing. It would mean a life of going through the motions, the motions themselves having no meaning at all.
you are not the missing piece to make her whole.
you are the spark to make her want to make herself whole.
x = xtra
a random headcanon
like to say, she keeps a journal.
not the kind of journal you might expect—no words, no sentences, no careful cursive recording of daily events. she's still learning to write, and anyway, words have never been her strongest language. no, her journal is filled with drawings. page after page after page of sketches, each one a moment captured, a memory preserved, a piece of her heart made visible.
and every single page is about you.
you don't find out about it for months. she's very careful to keep it hidden—under the mattress, behind a loose board, in the special secret place she's convinced you'll never discover. but one day, you come home early, and there she is, curled in a corner, so focused on something in her lap that she doesn't hear you approach.
"columbina?"
she jumps. literally jumps, a full-body flinch, and shoves whatever she's holding behind her back. her eyes go huge and guilty.
"nothing!" she says, way too quickly. "it's nothing! just... nothing. behind my back. which is empty. of anything. at all."
you raise an eyebrow. "...you're a terrible liar."
"i'm an excellent liar. you just... caught me off guard. that's all."
"what's behind your back?"
"a secret."
"what kind of secret?"
"the kind that stays secret."
you cross your arms. wait. she lasts about four seconds.
"...fine." she sighs, defeated, and pulls out a small leather-bound book. "but you have to promise not to laugh. or cry. or do either of those things in a way that makes me feel feelings i'm not prepared to handle right now."
the first page is you sleeping.
she's captured it perfectly—the way your face relaxes when you're dreaming, the way your hand curls under the pillow, the way the light falls across your cheek.
it's not professional quality, not by any means. the proportions are a little off, the shading is shaky, some lines are darker than others where she pressed too hard or second-guessed herself.
but it's you. unmistakably, lovingly, achingly you.
"i drew it the first morning i woke up next to you," she says quietly, watching your face. "you looked so... peaceful. so yours. i wanted to remember it forever."
you turn the page.
you reading. curled in your favorite chair, book in hand, expression absorbed. she's captured the way you bite your lip when a scene gets intense, the way your eyes move across the page, the way your foot taps slightly when you're really invested.
"that was a tuesday," she murmurs. "you read for three hours without moving. i watched the whole time. it was the best three hours of my life."
you turn another page.
you laughing. head thrown back, mouth open, eyes crinkled. it's a little blurry, a little rushed—like she was trying to capture the moment before it passed.
"that was when you told the joke. the stupid one. about the chicken. i don't even remember the joke, but i remember the sound you made. i wanted to keep it forever."
page after page. dozens of them. hundreds.
you cooking. you walking. you talking to other people. you staring out windows. you asleep, you awake, you in every possible mood and position and moment of your existence.
some are detailed, carefully rendered. others are quick sketches, rough lines that somehow still capture your essence. all of them are you. all of them are hers.
"columbina..."
"i know, i know, it's weird. it's so weird. i'm a weird person who draws weird pictures of you while you're not looking. you can say it."
"i wasn't going to say weird."
"you were thinking it."
"i was thinking..." you trail off, looking at another page. this one is you from behind, looking out at the sunset. she's captured the way the light edged your silhouette, the way you seemed to glow.
"...i was thinking that no one has ever seen me like this before."
she tilts her head. "like what?"
"like... like i'm worth remembering."
sometimes she leaves drawings for you to find.
tucked under your pillow. slipped into your bag. placed on your nightstand with a small rock holding it down. always the same subject—you—and always with a tiny note in the corner, written in her improving but still shaky handwriting:
you. mine. love.
you find one in your coat pocket on a particularly hard day. you'd forgotten your lunch, gotten soaked in the rain, snapped at someone who didn't deserve it. you're standing in the hallway, dripping wet, wanting to cry, when your hand touches paper.
you pull it out.
it's you. smiling. genuinely smiling, the way you do when you're really happy. she's drawn it from memory—some moment you don't even remember, some time you were just existing and being yourself and she thought it was worth capturing.
in the corner, in that familiar shaky script: "you. mine. love."
you cry. right there in the hallway, dripping wet, holding a drawing of yourself looking happy. you cry because someone saw you. someone sees you. someone thinks you're worth drawing, worth remembering, worth preserving in page after page after page.
you cry because you're loved.
she has a favorite drawing. it's not the best one—the proportions are weird, the perspective is off, she messed up the shading entirely. but it's her favorite anyway.
it's you, reaching out. not toward anything in particular—just reaching. your hand extended, your expression open, your whole body leaning slightly forward like you're about to embrace someone.
"why this one?" you ask, when she shows you.
she's quiet for a moment before saying, because that's how i see you," she says finally. "always reaching. always open. always ready to pull me in."
her fingers trace the lines of the drawing—your hand, your face, the slight curve of your smile.
"you reached for me first, you know. when everyone else just... looked away. you reached out. you saw me."
she looks up at you, those pink eyes soft and shining.
"this drawing reminds me that i'm not alone anymore. that someone reached. that someone keeps reaching. every day."
you pull her close, and she comes willingly, pressing her face to your chest.
"i'll always reach," you whisper. "always."
"i know," she murmurs back. "that's why i draw you. so i never forget."
the journal goes everywhere with her now.
not because she's afraid of losing it—but because she's always adding new pages. always capturing new moments. always preserving new memories of the person she loves most in the world.
"smile," she says, pulling out her journal and a piece of charcoal.
"you're going to draw me right now?"
"you're making a face. it's a good face. i need to capture it before it goes away."
"what kind of face?"
"the kind where you're looking at me like i'm ridiculous but you love me anyway. it's my favorite face." you laugh, and she starts sketching frantically, trying to capture the sound in lines and shadows.
"got it," she says eventually, satisfied.
"can i see?"
"nope. not until it's perfect."
"when will that be?"
she looks at you, those pink eyes warm and full of love.
"never. because you're perfect already. i'm just trying to catch up."
y = yuck
what does she dislike? in general or in a partner?
columbina is the softest, most loving person you'll ever meet. she wants to see the good in everyone, wants to believe that the world is kind, wants to trust that people mean well.
but that doesn't mean there aren't things that make her shut down. things that make her pink eyes go dark and her sweet voice go silent. things that make her curl inward, protect herself, retreat to the places inside her where no one can reach.
in general, loud noises absolutely wreck her.
the sudden sounds, sharp sounds, overwhelming sounds—they hit her like physical blows, making her flinch and cover her ears and look around with wide, terrified eyes. you learn this quickly, the first time a firework goes off unexpectedly while you're walking together.
she literally crumples, hands over her ears, body curling into itself, whispering "too loud, too loud" over and over until you wrap yourself around her and block out the world. you hold her tight, hum the melody she hums when she's happy, and eventually she comes back to you, wet-eyed and apologetic.
"i'm supposed to be the one protecting you," she whispers, and you kiss her forehead and remind her that you protect each other. that's how this works.
being ignored cuts her deeper than anything.
she used on getting attention, especially from pierrot and harlequin, she needs to know she occupies space in your world. (before you think, no, I’m not describing her as a pick me)
so when you're distracted, scrolling through your phone, and you don't notice her sitting right beside you? she stands, moves to the other side of the room, faces away. you find her there, eyes wet, voice small: "you didn't see me. for a whole minute, you looked right through me like i wasn't real." and your heart breaks, because she's right, you were stupid and distracted and you made the person you love most feel invisible.
you pull her close and promise to do better, to always see her, to never look away again. she laughs, wet and small, and calls you creepy when you say you'll never look away. but she holds on tight, and that's what matters.
cruelty is something she cannot tolerate, like not to anyone, but especially not to you.
so when you come home with a bruise on your arm, someone's idea of a joke, her face goes very still and her voice turns to ice. "who." you tell her, because you know that look, know there's no stopping her when she gets like this. the next day, you hear that someone had a very educational accident—nothing life-threatening, just the kind that teaches you not to be cruel to people, because you never know who loves them.
she's humming when you get home, making dinner, looking perfectly innocent. "anything happen today?" you ask. "nope!" she says, way too cheerfully. "just a normal, peaceful day where no one learned any valuable lessons about kindness."
you love her so much it's almost frightening.
she also hates being treated like a doll is the fastest way to make her rage. she is not a thing, not an object, not something to be posed and handled without consent—after everything she's been through, this is non-negotiable.
so when some drunk visitor reaches out and pats her head like she's a cute animatronic, cooing "aw, look at the little doll," you watch her eyes go flat and dead and dangerous. "i am not a doll," she says, voice sweet as poison. the guy laughs, doesn't get it, and then she just looks at him—those pink eyes empty and endless, boring into his soul.
ten seconds and he's sweating.
twenty and he's backing away. thirty and he's gone, muttering about how wrong those eyes felt. she turns to you, life flooding back, almost shy:
"i handled it."
"you were terrifying."
"good. maybe next time he'll keep his hands to himself." she takes your hand and squeezes, and you squeeze back.
z = zzz
what are her sleep habits?
columbina sleeps curled around you.
as much contact as possible. her body pressed to yours. her face tucked against your neck or chest. her arms and legs tangled with yours.
she purrs in her sleep. soft, constant, content.
she moves sometimes—reaching for you if you've shifted away, pulling you closer, making sure you're still there.
if you have to get up in the night, she'll wake immediately, looking at you with sleepy pink eyes like where are you going come back.
if you let her, she'll sleep forever in your arms. it's her favorite place in the world.
and then there are the nightmares.
you learn to recognize the signs—the way her breathing changes, the way her fingers grip tighter, the way small distressed sounds escape her. when she wakes, gasping, eyes wide and wet, you're already there. already holding her. already whispering.
"i'm here. i'm here. you're safe. it wasn't real."
she clings to you, face pressed to your chest, and you feel her heartbeat slow, her breathing even out. "you're really here," she whispers. "you're really here."
"i'm really here. i'm not going anywhere."
she believes you. eventually. and slowly, she drifts back to sleep, still clinging, still holding on.
in the morning, you wake to find her already awake, watching you with those soft pink eyes. she's been there for a while—you can tell by the peaceful look on her face, the way she's been memorizing you in the early light. when she sees you're awake, she smiles.
"morning," she whispers. "you're still here."
"always."
she presses closer, forehead to your chest, and sighs contentedly. "good. now stay a little longer."
and you do. you always do.
bonus: pierrot + columbina begging for your attention
(couldn't help myself to write this little part~)
so, imagine this. you're sitting on the couch, finally relaxing after a long day. just you, a blanket, maybe a book you've been meaning to read, just peace and quiet.
for about thirty seconds.
pierrot appears first. of course he does—he's been hovering nearby for the past hour, waiting for the exact moment you looked available. he slides onto the couch beside you, close but not touching (not yet), those starry shaped eyes fixed on your face with an expression of pure, desperate longing.
"my dear," he breathes, his voice soft as falling dust. "you've been busy all day. i've missed you. it's been hours."
his long fingers find your hand, wrap around it gently, squeeze.
before you can respond, there's movement on your other side. columbina materializes—literally, where did she even come from—and presses against you, her cool body leaning into your warmth. she doesn't speak (she can speak now, but sometimes words aren't enough), just looks up at you with those big pink eyes and tugs at your sleeve.
“me too, my love. i missed you too. pay attention to me too.”
you're flanked. trapped. loved.
pierrot and columbina look at each other over your head. something complicated passes between them—history, grief, rivalry, the ghost of everything that happened before you came along. pierrot's eyes looked with something almost like guilt. columbina's soften with something almost like forgiveness.
then they both look back at you.
"we could share," pierrot offers softly, his thumb tracing circles on your hand. "couldn't we? just for a little while?"
columbina nods against your shoulder, her hand still tugging at your sleeve. she presses closer, “yes, but i'm not letting go either.”
and suddenly you have two of them. pierrot's head on one shoulder, his starry eyes half-closed in contentment. columbina's forehead pressed to your other shoulder, her pink eyes fixed on your face like you're the sun. both of them touching you, holding you, needing you.
pierrot hums—that sad little melody he always hums, but softer now, almost happy. columbina joins in, her voice adding a sweet harmony. they're singing together, just for you, their voices twining like their hands twine with yours.
"we love you," they whispers when the song fades. "so much. too much. all of us."
columbina lifts her head and presses her lips to your cheek—soft, warm, a kiss that lingers. then she rests her head back down, satisfied.
you sit there, surrounded by their devotion, and think:
this is insane. this is too much. this is everything.
and then about ten minutes later:
pierrot has migrated from your shoulder to your lap, his long body curled up like an oversized dig, his eyes closed in fake sleep (he's not sleeping, he's just maximizing contact). columbina has somehow wrapped herself around your other side like a pink koala, her face buried in your neck, making tiny contented sounds.
you can't move. you can't breathe.
you can't even reach your book.
"you two realize i'm trapped, right?" you say.
pierrot's eyes open slightly. "trapped… sounds so negative. i prefer 'securely held.'"
columbina nods against your neck, her voice muffled. "what he said. you're not trapped. you're cherished."
"i can't feel my arm."
"temporary discomfort," pierrot murmurs, closing his eyes again. "worth it."
"so worth it," columbina agrees.
you sigh. this is your life now. just being sandwiched between two desperately devoted monsters who can't go five minutes without touching me.
and you wouldn't change a single thing~
♤ — 𝓉𝒻𝒸 𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓎𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
iyayadonna, all rights reserved. — ⋆˚ ᓭི༏ᓯྀ ꩜ 。⋆ .ᐟ
Imagine playing an elaborate game of Hide and seek with them... But you're really determined not to loose
Not your fault that you're good at their game
★★☆★★☆★★☆★★
A/n: an idea... Hehe enjoy
Oh btw, I think this will have a few endings... I'll post them separately but will try to link them once they're up. Hope you enjoy:)
Tw: mentions of reader being eaten, fear, some dark themes maybe, being chased, Harlequin being Harlequin, slight mentions of explicit things
Disclaimer: This is a work based on an 18+ visual novel, and even though there is not much explicit content here, it is not intended for those underage
★★☆★★☆★★☆★★
"Looks like our little pet is getting agitated" Jester mused after yet again you tried to sneak out of the circus.
"You know, dear guest, this was unnecessary and out of line..."
"This is dumb. I'm allowed to leave the tents. I've left before"
"Not without informing us first" Ticket Taker says. What you hear is 'not without permission'.
"Darling, you know how easy it is to kidnap people," Jester's tone carries slight notes of mockery.
You sigh, "Seeing as I am practically kidnapped by all of you right now... Yeah, I do"
"We just worry for your safety, My Lady" Pierrot's head rests on your shoulder, so you have to turn to grab his face in your hands. A light blush coats his cheeks at your action.
"As much as I love you, Pierrot, and as much as I want to believe it, I'm afraid you're the only one who is actively concerned for my safety in this case. The others... just really like telling me 'no', for some reason"
That earns a chuckle from Jester.
The Doctor cocks his head to the side: "It is hardly our fault your reactions to refusal are so... intriguing. Ranging from bickering and giving a cold shoulder to outright disregarding whatever we say."
"Is that so? Maybe I should add rearranging your supplies to the range... Or running away from the circus and getting married in Vegas?" You cross your arms and pout, feeling even more outraged when Doctor takes out a notebook and jots something down.
"Perhaps your energy should be redirected elsewhere... How about a game, darling?"
"A game? What, like hide and seek?"
"Could be hide and seek"
★☆★
"You'll have an hour to hide... Anywhere, wherever you desire"
You bite your tongue tempted to ask if you could buy a plane ticket and leave the country in that one hour... If you timed it right and was very lucky you'd probably manage it.
"Once the time is up we begin our hunt"
"Weird word choice," you mumble
Their smiles widen.
"Be assured dear, this word choice is intentional" Harlequin leans into your personal space, curling a loose strand of your hair around his finger. He's making it hard to focus.
"Alright... And once you capture me..."
"Once you're caught... You're at the complete mercy of your captor"
"What?" This sounds absurd, so it takes for Jester to reiterate it, for it to trully sink in.
"Once you are caught... We'll do as we please"
"Oh..." You stare at your feet for a few seconds
They all wait patiently for you to say something else.
"Did- did you have dinner tonight? You're... Not hungry are you?"
It takes them a moment to process your question, before they laugh.
"Your worried face is adorable"
"There are different types of hunger, dear... And I'm already starved for you" Harlequin runs his fingers down the side of your face and stops at your pulse point. He presses lightly to feel it beneath his fingers
"My Lady, don't take him seriously, we won't eat you"
"Thanks..."
"It would do you well to remember, darling, that Pierrot can only promise for himself... The night is long... Who knows how we'll feel about devouring you by the end of it..." The whole situation seems to be highly amusing to Jester.
Your eyes widened again at this.
He grins, "I merely jest"
Despite yourself you let out a giggle. It's rare to have Jester in such a good mood... He must be thoroughly enjoying the whole ordeal.
"Be assured, guest, your death would inconvenience us, we shall refrain from harming you, as long as you follow the orders"
"Leave it to Ticket Taker to validate your feelings and make you feel needed" Harlequin laughs.
You send Harlequin a small smile, before asking a question that has been bugging you for half of the conversation:
"And if you don't succeed in getting me?"
"I wouldn't worry your pretty head with that improbability. We have the entire night"
"I don't think this is very fair. You guys have a clear advantage. I mean, there's five of you... And I'm only one"
"Ah, but here's where you're mistaken, darling... We do not like to share." There was a dangerous glimmer in their eyes. You realised they would not be playing as a team... No... For this night they'd be enemies, all striving to win. And you're the prize.
They savour your expression for a moment, before Jester gives you a little shove.
"Now run along little mouse. Hide. Run. Do what you like... We already know how this ends"
His words are enough to send you sprinting out of the tent and into the night.
★☆★
That was 40 minutes ago. Now you were wandering the streets. Still 20 minutes of protected time and you were keeping a steady pace, trying to put as much distance between yourself and them as you could.
You had to silence your phone 10 minutes into the game - it was going off incessantly with messages from Harlequin - brainstorming what he'd do to you once he caught you. Apparently waiting was taking a toll on him if he decided to bombard you with such very descriptive imagery.
At the 45 minute mark your phone rings. You automatically decline. Harlequin has tried calling you 10 times in the past 10 minutes. He really is getting impatient. Apparently just texting you his fantasies isn't enough anymore.
It buzzes with a text. With a sigh you take it out, fully intent on blocking Harlequin for the duration of the night. Will it make him more vengeful if he catches you? Definitely. But at this point you're willing to take your chances. Besides. Him catching you is only a 1 in 5 probability.
There are worse candidates to piss off. Like Jester.
The text is from Ticket Taker. Brief and to the point:
"It would do you well not to decline Jester's calls next time, doll. You wouldn't want to anger the one who could hold your fate in his claws by the end of the night..."
Ah... Guess you jinxed it.
You try dialing Jester again a few times. But apparently he's taking pleasure in declining your calls after you declined his. Great.
Instead, you call Ticket Taker. He picks up, bit it's Jester who speaks, "Darling, learn to pick up your phone. You have it for a reason"
"Sorry...I thought it was-"
"I'm aware. Which is why I'll let this one slide"
"Really?"
"No" there is laughter and mirth in his voice, "I'll consider it. The events of the night can sway my opinion," he muses, "speaking of...There is a slight change in rules"
"Midgame?"
"Yes. We'll start our hunt a bit early"
"How early?"
"Now"
"What? But- that's not-" you sputter.
"Unfortunately your lack of engagement made Harlequin really impatient. He has already started. And we can't have him get an advantage, can we? Besides... Pierrot is not taking the wait well, especially now that Harlequin is out and about"
"Of fucking course it was Harlequin" you mutter.
"I wouldn't waste your breath on curses, darling, now, run along, don't make the chase end too soon... Make it interesting"
★☆★
By the third hour you get an inkling that perhaps this was never meant to be a simple game. Perhaps they treated it as more of an elaborate foreplay than an actual competition. Perhaps you were meant to let them catch you. You debate searching for one of them. But quickly brush the idea aside. Then you debate calling Jester or Ticket Taker... Probably not Harlequin... To ask for clarifications... But you can easily imagine how that conversation would go:
"Hi, I'm a bit dense. Was this meant to be foreplay or something?"
No... You are not ready for that type of humiliation yet.
Besides. You've already made up your mind. You would really love to see their faces at dawn. After you have successfully evaded capture. You can practically taste the sweet flavour of victory... Oh that would be just marvelous... Simply exhilarating. The mere thought of beating those monsters at a game you were never meant to win fills you with adrenaline and it's all you need to keep going...
You always had a bit of a competitive streak. It made everything that much more fun...
★☆★
Four hours in and you get a call from Pierrot. You contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but begrudgingly pick up. He tends to worry more than necessary. And while it's endearing... It's probably not great for his state.
Besides, he should not suffer just because Harlequin annoyed you into not picking up calls (that already happened with Jester and you had no interest in expanding the list of people you ghosted).
"My Lady? Are you alright?" His tone is laced with concern, making your heart swell.
"Of course I am, why? Should I... Not be... Alright?" You laugh nervously.
"We haven't caught you yet, I thought something happened to you."
"Oh Pierrot, I promise I'm alright. I'm just really good at running and hiding."
"You are, My Lady, but I'd prefer you didn't. At least not from me. I miss you already."
"I promise, once the game is over, I'll give you as many cuddles as you want, deal?"
"But My Lady, you could tell me where you are now... And we wouldn't have to wait," he sounds so convincing you're tempted to give in.
You chuckle, "But Pierrot, that's probably against the rules"
You can sense him pouting through the phone. You're about to say something more comforting, when you notice a looming presence out of the corner of your eye. Instead, you say:
"Pierrot? I gotta go, unless you want me caught by someone else"
You turn towards the figure, stuffing your phone back in your pocket. Tall, broad shoulders. Would be very very intimidating if you didn't know him as well as you do, and even now in the dark, illuminated by the moonlight, he still sends shivers down your spine.
"Hey," you try for a casual greeting. You did not expect to be caught so quickly.
He nods in acknowledgement, his soft steps resonate quietly on the ground as he approaches slowly.
"Your little escapade is about to be terminated"
"Interesting hypothesis, I'd love to disproove it"
"I'm afraid you don't have a chance, sweetie, I do not like leaving my patients unattended for a long time" he smiles and approaches you, there is soft fondness in his demeanour, which goes in dissonance with his menacing figure.
"Ah, but tonight I'm more of a riveting experiment, you must agree... And experiments are not to be interfered with"
"I've had enough impartial observations for tonight, dear, I would like to move on to a more hands-on approach"
"How did you track me down?" You try to prolong the conversation, giving yourself precious seconds to find a way out. You can't have this end so soon.
"You will be disappointed, sweetheart, pure chance... Or perhaps good intuition of what my patient likes"
You hum noncomitally, a plan already half-formed in your head. It's only fair you use any and every means of escape you have, you reason. Especially considering you're not caught, yet...
Jester told you to make it interesting... And you will...
You begin your motion, careful not to alert him. Though you're already certain he clocked in that you're up to something.
"You do know me pretty well..."
In fact, you have an inkling he even knows what you're about to do... In vague details... But is letting you proceed, curious to where it may lead...
"Well enough to know you do not intend to give in so easily... Tell me, why is that?"
"A secret," you grin.
"You must be mistaken, sweetheart, a patient does not have secrets from their Doctor... I am disappointed my favourite one would forget such an important rule"
"That's fair... I suppose I just enjoy the thrill and the taste of freedom.. or maybe I just want to win."
The lights right ahead signal the approaching bus, you pay it no mind, afraid even a flicker of eyes in that direction might betray your intentions. No, until the very last moment you will not look.
"You look mesmerising... When your heart pounds in your chest and adrenaline courses through your veins," he observes, "It is a good look on you"
The bus stops.
"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I think I might have to reschedule my appointment," you say before making a mad dash for the already closing doors.
He watches the bus drive off with an almost fond smile. He was always one of the most lenient towards you, somehow.
You get a text message:
"Of course, sweetheart, the Doctor always wants what's best for their patient. But I do hope to rendezvous with you tonight once more... Perhaps you won't run off the next time"
You grin. His response makes your heart beat just a bit faster. That and how he always manages to clock in your every mood and craving - much how right now you absolutely need to continue the game (and to win, of course)
★☆★
You halt at the train station to catch your breath. The lit up sign says the next one out of town is in 10 minutes. Of course you weren't planning on leaving. That's not the point of the game. Which by the way, has really grown on you. But it was a very good opportunity to tease your favourite monsters.
You take a photo, posing where they could see the sign and the ticket purchasing machine.
And scramble to get some distance between yourself and the station before sending it to the group chat.
You: Jester told me to keep it interesting and the prices are low enough... Is that entertaining enough for you?
Pierrot: My Lady?
Jester: I didn't take you for such a fool as to give us a beacon of your location
Doctor: Such an unpredictable subject...
Ticket Taker: An inconvenience is more accurate. I told you she'd pull a stupid stunt like this
Harlequn's was the most concerning. It came a minute after the others and was a photo of the very station with a caption "Nowhere left to run... Since you can't escape anyway, you might as well review the texts I sent you while waiting"
Such a cocky text. It deserves an equally arrogant response:
You: dumbass. You'd think I'd send you a pic from my actual location? Try again:)
★☆★
The forest was a stupid idea after all... You'd think that they all would stick to the city... The actual place you'd most likely to be at... But somehow, Harlequin and you had both ended up in the forest. In the exact same spot. Cool...
His eyes glimmer a menacing green in the dark, like two emeralds. You take a step back, contemplating whether running back was still on the table. Probably not anymore... His agility was something to be envious of.
"Looks like I win, and I'm here to claim my prize"
You purse your lips.
"Technically, you still didn't catch me." You state stubbornly.
"Really? You still insist on not loosing? Hah... Let's wrap this up quickly and get to the fun part, what do you say, hm? What would you count as me catching you?"
If you were going to loose, you might as well make the loss fun for yourself, "You'd probably have to pin me down or wrap your arms around me."
His grin widens, "Oh how I love when you get so bold, my dear," he takes a slow deliberate step towards you, savouring the moment, no doubt, "Let's not make a technicality halt us then."
Neither of you get a chance to get much further, as Harlequin gets struck in the shoulder by a dagger. You yelp in surprise and look around in alarm before spotting a grim looking Pierrot. And he has at least a few more daggers on hand.
"Pierrot... Right on cue to ruin the moment... If I felt more charitable I'd have suggested you join in, but I don't share"
Before you can so much as blink Pierrot is on Harlequin. They merge into a blur of taunts and fists and maybe knives.
You take a tentative step back. They don't notice - too engrossed.
"I'll uh... Leave you guys to it" you give the two fighting figures a thumbs up before running out of the forest.
Technicalities fucking matter
★☆★
You halted only for a few minutes, to catch your breath, and on a rooftop, no less. How in hell did Ticket Taker manage to find you that quickly... You would never comprehend it.
He stood, hands behind his back, calmly surveying as you desperately intake the cold night air. Your whole body felt heavy and tired, so your rather less than graceful leaning on the railing could be excused. It took you embarrassingly longer than it should have to spot him. In fact, you only noticed his presence once he placed his jacket over your shoulders.
The sudden grounding heaviness of it startled you. Your legs almost gave out under you.
It was stupid to think you'd get even a few minutes of a reprieve. With shaking arms you pushed yourself from the railing, stumbling, but ready to run at a moment's notice, he nodded in acknowledgement.
"I wouldn't do that, dearest"
You frown, "Of course you wouldn't want me to start running. I'm easier to catch if I don't"
"You look too tired to even make it down the stairs. It would be advisable to rest"
You heart was still pounding in your chest - undecided whether from all the running, the jumpscare he gave you or from having his jacket over your shoulders, while he stood mere centimetres away from you.
He surveyed the night city, while you were still catching your breath. Now that the adrenaline and the constant anxious pounding in your skull over getting caught subsided, you were immensely grateful for his jacket. Only now did you notice how chilly the air was and how absolutely frozen you felt. You huddled the jacket tighter around your frame.
He glanced at his pocket watch, "Rest time is over. Now, we shall proceed with what I have planned for this eventuality" his lips stretched into a smile, as his gloved hand reached towards you.
Before he could touch you, you pushed off the railing, taking a few steps back.
"Tsk. Didn't I tell you that obedience looks better on you? I shall be disappointed if we waste precious time here because of you"
You were eyeing the exits, your mind running ten miles a second, coming up with escape plans and routes. But help and an opportunity of escape came from the least expected source.
"No need for such haste, Bil," a dark hand fell on Ticket Taker's shoulder. He seemed startled at it and at the silky words of the speaker.
You were already inching yourself towards the exit. Jester crossed the distance, halting your escape and blocking you from Ticket Taker with one arm.
"Jester? I thought we were above such petty squabbles, unlike certain other members of the troupe"
"Rest assured, dear friend, we are. Unfortunately, those very members of the troupe left quite a mess. It must be dealt with."
You take your chances where you can:
"Nice move, Jester, send him away to deal with the mess to have your way with me unobstructed"
Jester narrowed his eyes at you, but snapped his attention back to Ticket Taker:
"Really now, Jester? The girl was mine... And I do not appreciate my schedule being interfered with"
You leave them to discuss it alone. It'll buy you a minute tops - they really are above petty squabbles and can easily spot your attempts to sow discord... But you'll take what you can get... Besides, a busy street is right around here somewhere. Getting lost in the crowd is exactly what you need right now...
You feel two pairs of eyes burn into your back as you disappear amongst strangers and street lights.
★☆★
The two figures on the rooftop sighed at your departure into the night. The taller one clad in dark purple turned to the other:
"I didnt expect her to be so stubborn in her escape. One could think she'd be smart enough to recognise this game for what it is."
A beat of silence.
"You don't think she truly believes we'd devour her? She should know by now that we have no such inclinations towards her"
"Hmm, our inclinations towards her are..." Jester gestured vaguely, searching for a word, before settling on: "Different. That is true..."
"Perhaps your attempt at humour earlier frightened her" Ticket Taker ponders, a quiet jab at his friend
"I think we have simply miscalculated."
"Miscalculated? You?" There is incredulity in his tone
"Our darling Y/n is a bit more clueless and has a far deeper competitive streak than I imagined... Still, makes the victory that much more sweeter."
★☆★
You shivered as the sky slowly turned from midnight to a dark violet, soon to be rosy with sunrise. The jacket Ticket Taker so courteously lent you - what a gentleman - provided meager warmth as you huddled it tighter around you. You walked the empty streets, briefly wondering if the monsters have given up on finding you.
You shoot them a quick "given up yet?" text and see 5 typing bubbles. A few second later you receive your responses:
"Of course not, My Lady" - Pierrot, ever so sweet.
"No, but you should... If you let me get you now, I promise to be merciful~" - Harlequin, the flirt he is...
"Fascinating confidence for someone right within my reach" - Jester, his mysterious and thinly veiled threats that sent your heart racing just like his compliments and affection did. He truly had a way with words.
"No. I have quite a lot in mind I want to do which would require your assistance" - Doctor, ever so blunt, so forward with his intentions
"You have already taken more time out of our schedule than you ought to. Let's not prolong the inevitable, dearest. Now, be a good girl" - Ticket Taker, he can be so uptight... But just as charming when he wants to be
They were persistent. And you've had a lot of close run-ins throughout the night. They remained ever so determined to get you.
You smile softly at the memories. You are rather fond of them. Perhaps fondness is too weak of a word... With the cool night air and sky the colour of violets another word burrows it's way into your mind - Love. It startles you slightly... But settles in so naturally in your mind you can't refute it.
The game is coming to a closure. A shame. It was fun... It would be nice to maybe watch the sunset rise on some rooftop and then show up to the circus beaming with victory. Or maybe it would be more fun to... Let one of them catch you... After all, it's not a complete loss for you if you let them. And there just might be one who really deserves a win...
★★☆★★☆★★☆★★
A/n: let me know what you think and I'll start on some of the endings... Soon... Yeah
"I need to test if my lipstick is kiss-proof on you!"
The Freak Circus boys' reaction to you trying out which lipstick is waterproof by covering their faces with lipstick! Just you doing that one trend, you know... This one?
(this is so cute, I don't know if anyone already did this, but I just had to do it!)
GN!Reader, romantic relationship
Neck ruff is the collar that's around Pierrot's neck!
TW: Lots of kisses! I apologize if I mischaracterized any of the characters! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.
Masterlist
Pierrot
You came up to him and asked him if "you can test which lipstick of yours is kiss-proof."
His immediate reaction was... Honestly one of confusion. He tilted his head to the side, blinked at you slowly... Taking in your words.
He really doesn't understand what you mean by that request, but he loves you too much to deny. So he nodded. The bells on his clown hat giving a little jingle, as he gives you a warm smile.
"Of course, my love. Whatever it is you need."
Little did he know he'd end up sitting on the couch, dizzy, with kiss marks covering his face, hands, and even his neck. His clothes ended up either rumpled, or tossed away.
You reach over to the table before you, grabbing another new shade of lipstick. This one is the color of orange. A pretty shade that you faintly remember buying a month ago, because it reminded you of Pierrot.
You adjusted the pocket mirror so you could properly see yourself. Applying the lipstick on your lips, you glance at Pierrot next to you briefly.
He's slumped on the couch, his face red. Not just from the onslaught of your kisses, but also from his own blush that's coloring his cheeks. His hair is a mess, his neck ruff nowhere to be found, his eyes are dilated... Like a cat's eyes. Or a happy dog who got the attention of his favorite person.
The sight makes you laugh. But you hold it together. Can't laugh here... You still need to say that one line.
"Hm... We still haven't found one lipstick that's kiss-proof!" You sighed dramatically, just to dramatize the whole moment even further. "You must be getting awfully bored of this experiment."
The moment those words left your lips, Pierrot seemed to come to his senses a little bit. He gave you an expression that looked almost like he was offended.
"No!" Pierrot almost desperately shook his hand, taking your wrist and pulling you closer to him with one gentle tug. He grinned widely, a trickle of drool making its way down his chin. "Do it again... More. Please." Pierrot almost begged when he spoke those words, his voice rough from unuse.
Pierrot's hand slid from your wrist to your waist. Pulling you over to seat you on his lap. His yellow eyes turned into that familiar heart-shape that you're so used to seeing. "I like it. I... I'm your canvas! P-Please..."
He took your hand, kissing your wrist gently, all while maintaining eye contact with you. "...Do it again, darling..."
He pointed at his face with his other free hand, batting his eyes at you. But his grin remained on his face. How could you resist him?
With a soft, amused sigh, you smiled up at him and gave him a nod. You didn't respond to his begging with words, you just leaned in and gave him another kiss. Leaving behind an orange lipstick mark.
Pierrot is absolutely putty in your hands. He loves the feeling of your lips on his face...
He might cheekily kiss you back after you're finished.
Then he'd gently take you in his hands, cradling you and holding you bridal style... Before heading towards your bedroom.
Look at what you've done. You got him all excited! Unless... That's exactly what you've wanted?
Harlequin
His first reaction to your request was an interest lift of his eyebrow. He's not entirely sure what you mean by that... But he's intrigued.
He's usually the dirty-minded one, but when you first asked to "try out which lipstick is kiss-proof"... His first instinct surprisingly wasn't that you're going to kiss the daylights out of him.
"Oh~? What's this now? Hm... Kiss-proof lipstick, huh?"
It just wouldn't be Harlequin if he wouldn't tease you about your request. Yet the way you seemed determined made him pause.
Of course he said yes to you! You're his lover at the end of the day... (One he secretly believes he totally doesn't deserve).
He freezes the moment you give him the first kiss. Genuine surprise coloring his face for a minute there... Before he regains his composure, and grins.
It's been what... Hours? Since the first kiss. And now... Harlequin stopped counting. He watched you from the corner of his eye. His pupils slitted like that of a snake. His face was... Red. Though he blamed it on the temperature.
Dammit, he was the one who was supposed to be teasing you! And yet here you are. Sitting between his legs, peppering his face with kisses.
You never actually expected him to turn this... Quiet. You're not really used to Harlequin acting like this with you. Usually he's oozing confidence. He'd normally be teasing the hell out of you by now. Probably having his long tongue in your throat already.
But he was... Quiet. It almost unsettled you. This reaction of his wasn't something you accounted for. Nevertheless, you continued with this harmless prank. About to paint your lips with another layer of lipstick... This one was green. You choose that one on purpose.
It's a shame that you didn't get far with Harlequin. Before you could apply the lipstick, pursuing your lips already, Harlequin's hand grasped your wrist. He leaned in, his signature grin making its way on his face.
"So this is what you meant, butterfly." He mused, amused dripping from his tongue. But his voice was softer. Almost breathless from the attack of your kisses. He couldn't help but trace your lips with his fingers. Gently tilting your chin up to face him properly.
"You know..." He started, letting the sentence hang in the air for a moment. You could tell what was on his mind just from the sound of his voice. "I wouldn't mind if you decide to greet me like this everyday..."
Harlequin's gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips. Staring at them intently. He grinned mischievously, licking his lips. "Your lips are already swollen." He paused, making direct eye contact with you. He shifted his position to lean closer to you, whispering directly in your ear. "Let's settle this... In bed."
"Harley—" You couldn't even finish your sentence before you got yanked up by him. Tossing you over his shoulder like you were just a couple of grapes. "Fuck. Don't call me that now... You're really asking for it, aren't you?"
He pivoted over to your bedroom. Not stopping even once in his stride, despite whatever you might tell him. Who cares if you still need to clean up the lipsticks? That can wait.
Safe to say... You were in for a night.
Since you covered his face in lipstick, he'll make sure to cover you in bites!
He just loves to bite you.
Jester
Jester doesn't usually engage himself with these silly things. He has a circus to run and two grown men to look after (*cough* Harlequin and Pierrot *cough*)
But... When he saw the downright mischievous look on your face, he couldn't help himself and feed his curiosity.
Lipstick is usually used by humans to raise their appeal, right? Truth be told, he doesn't understand why you even need that thing, he thinks you're gorgeous already... But he won't stop you.
Besides... He's interested in what you have in mind when you say you need to test if it's "kiss-proof".
So he decided to humor you.
"Hm... Alright, darling. Do what you must."
He came to regret those words later...
Matte, satin, cream, sheer, glossy, liquid... Jester started losing track of how many types of lipstick you tried on him already. You were very... Excited. He could see that plastered all over your face.
Jester's face was covered in so many lipstick marks that he couldn't keep up. His face didn't show it much... But his breathing was labored.
"Awww... This one isn't kiss-proof either... Oh well! Let's keep trying!" You little tease. Jester could see right through your 'sorry' act. He was something of an actor himself, of course he could see through your lies.
He'd be lying if he said the thought of hypnotizing you to stop this didn't cross his mind... But did he actually do it?
...Of course he didn't. Perhaps he was enjoying this too. He just didn't let it be known.
"Ah yes. What a tragedy." Jester responded to your dramatic exclaimation with a sarcasm of his own. His sharp grin slowly stretched on his face, as he leaned back on the couch. Jester looked at the table where the many lipsticks are placed.
A thought crossed his mind... A thought that was too tempting to let go. His grin sharpened, as he chuckled, and grabbed one of your lipsticks.
A surprised expression passed on your face, as you looked at him in confusion. What was he doing? Nothing good usually happened when he had that look on his face.
"You can't possibly test all of these on your own, pet." Jester deliberately made sure to tease you, as he opened the satin lipstick that had a purple shade. Jester picked that one out seemingly for its color. "Allow me to... Help you out."
"Jester? What are you—" you couldn't even finish your sentence before he was on you, the lipstick on his lips. He pinned you on the couch, holding your wrists above your head, as he began kissing your lips directly.
Jester decided that he should return your favor, and kiss you back. Except... His bottled up excitement affected his kisses so much that he ended up not only covering your face with the lipstick... But also your body.
He undressed you slowly as he kissed down your body, making sure to enjoy you as much as he could.
You're lucky that he was on his break that time... Or else he'd leave you wet and weeping for him.
Though... It's not like he wouldn't give you what you want after his show.
Hopefully you learned your lesson; Jester likes your kisses way too much than he lets on.
Ticket Taker
Bill is a very busy man. Everybody knows that. He spends most of his time either obsessively cleaning the circus, or standing by the ticket stand.
...But he always makes time for you.
The moment you ask him that question, he almost thinks he misheard. Kiss-proof lipstick?? That sounded like nonsense to him.
He can't let himself get persuaded to engage in something so childish— .... His eyes drifted down to your lips, and he found his curiosity peaked.
He doesn't fully know what you mean by your request... But he does have an idea. He's seen some people on the circus grounds doing this one trend. Perhaps you're gonna do the same?
...Shit, if that's the case then he's down! Uh... He means- ahem. Sure. As long as it's... Appropriate. (He's way too proper for this).
"Oh? You want what now? ...I suppose I'll allow it."
The way he speaks made you almost think he's onto you, but he really wasn't. Because he had a small idea doesn't mean that he truly knows what you're planning.
Ticket Taker, Bill, was sitting on the couch. His mask is nowhere to be seen... Mostly because you tossed it across the room the moment he sat down. His back straight as a ruler... But his entirely composure and gentlemanly behavior cracked the moment your first landed on his cheek. Now he leaned back like melted butter.
Only you get to see him like that... And he'd like to keep it that way.
Bill watches you carefully, as you apply a new shade of lipstick on your lips. He tried to keep his thoughts pure... Really tried. But you were making it into a challenge for him and his sanity.
"What a bummer!" You exclaimed dramatically, placing your hands over your cheeks, as you pouted. Playing the whole thing up way more dramatically than it needed to be. "There's no kiss-proof lipstick! Well, looks like we're gonna have to keep searching!"
Bill rarely smiled, despite his mask wearing a smile. But he really couldn't help the way his lips curled up into an amused smile when you spoke those words. You were so silly... He liked that about you.
You expected to fluster him, make him speechless. Maybe a little needy... But you didn't expect him to point at one of the lipstick tubes. "Try this one. The color matches your eyes."
Bill doesn't get moments like this often. Moments where he can just relax next to his beloved... So he's taking full advantage of that now. He was genuinely engaging with your plan.
He seemed to notice your surprise, which was evident when he chuckled and shook his head. "Is something the matter?"
"You're... Not flustered? Even a little bit?" You blinked at him, but you still reached for the lipstick he was pointing at. Soft blush rising on your cheeks.
Bill shook his head, and gently lifted you up by your waist, sitting you down on his knee. "Not at all. Please... Continue search for- uh... The 'kiss-proof' lipstick."
You knew that he was onto you when you saw his grin. But still... Your fun wasn't ruined, it was reciprocated. Which made your smile widen in sheer glee.
The next hour was spent with you kissing Bill all over his face with various different shades of lipstick.
He might've lost himself in you for a moment... But he didn't regret a single moment with you.
He picked the right human as his mate.
Bill wasn't as freaky as the others, but if you ask really nicely... He will take you to the bedroom.
The Doctor
You want to try what now with him??
He didn't fully understand your request... And being the nerd genius that he is, he immediately began making up theories of what you could possibly plan.
Kiss-proof... Sounded like waterproof. Waterproof is a term used for things that can withstand water. So... Going by that logic— ...oh. Oh.
You got The Doctor flustered for a single moment, only from being caught off guard. Of course, nothing slips past the doctor.
But... The thought of you trying to figure out what lipstick is kiss-proof... He suddenly took it way too seriously.
"Sweetie, you should've said so earlier."
You think he'll let you do what you please for a moment... But no. He didn't. He grabbed your hand, gently, and started taking you towards his tent without even asking you any more questions.
Well... By the looks of it, you were busted.
You've been sitting in The Doctor's chair for a while now. Staring up at the huge bird man, as he held up one of your lipsticks. You should've known that he'd take this thing seriously... Great.
"Are you aware that kissing requires the engagement of exactly one hundred and forty-six muscles?" You usually liked listening to The Doctor's fun facts about the human body... But this isn't really what you envisioned.
You sighed, and shook your head. "That's... Fascinating, Doctor. But I was hoping—"
"So let's put that to the test, shall we?" The suddenness of The Doctor's next words made you pause. Your eyes widened as you looked up into his eyes. That plague mask of his is still in place, as his huge hand gently grabs your face. Tilting it up.
You can't properly see it for a moment, but The Doctor smiles widely behind his mask. Unclasping the red lipstick, and gently applying it on your lips. "I admire your creativity, [Name]... But I must interject."
He hesitated for a fraction of a moment, before taking off his mask. The shadows were so convenient that you couldn't even see his face right now. How cruel.
You only remember your doctor leaning in closer to you, before kissing you. Directly on the lips. Your eyes fluttered close as he got really into it. Gently biting down on your lower lip. You moaned into the kiss... But before anyone could go further, he leaned away. Placing his hand on your thigh, he grinned, and grabbed another shade of lipstick from the table with his other free hand.
"This one didn't hold up. Let's try again."
You weren't the one giving The Doctor kisses... He was the one who initiated them. Over and over again.
Your lips were very kissable... And he liked the excuse of figuring out which lipstick is kiss-proof.
Except he couldn't really care less what lipstick was kiss-proof. He just wanted to keep kissing you. He knows he probably didn't need that excuse... But eh. A win is a win.
The Moon Monster, the circus and an internalised fairytale
Analysis of The Moon Monster story and its significance to the plot of TFC (co-written by @readersofthevoid)
The special AMA revealed a very interesting piece of information, that being Pierrot’s favourite fairytale.
According to this post by @thekuronaqueen, The Moon Monster could be the story of St George and the Dragon. It writes out the whole story in more detail (as well some of its religious/cultural history, it’s a very interesting read), but the following fragment is what this analysis is based upon:
A young warrior decided to face the beast. When the full moon lit the night sky, he would mount his horse and wait, spear in hand, watching the heavens.
One night, he saw the dragon in the sky and charged to meet it. The creature was about to devour a young woman when the warrior struck, piercing its neck and chest with his spear.
Unable to defeat him, the dragon took flight, and the battle continued across the sky until it reached the moon. There, the struggle left craters on its surface, and the dragon was finally slain.
George chose to remain on the moon, keeping eternal watch over humanity’s fears and dangers, from where he continues to protect the oppressed and the unjust.
Now, why we believe this is Pierrot’s favourite story: St George did what he could not - save the young woman from being devoured by the dragon. The parallel here to Columbina is clear (and tragic), but it also inspires two other interesting ones - Pierrot as St George and Harlequin as the Dragon.
First: St George. He watches from the moon at a distance, used a spear to slay the beast, to stop an innocent being eaten by it. Is that not what Pierrot does? He stalks the MC, watches us when we approach the black tent, even ‘spears the dragon’ during the tent scene with Harlequin. Despite his obsessive and violent tendencies, he puts in great effort to do so at a distance, without getting up close and personal (at least not when MC can see him).
His weapon of choice is also interesting: he prefers his daggers and throwing knives despite being stronger than the other circus members. Not only does that weaponry sound very similar to what St George used, but it also allows him to keep his ‘monstrous’ strength and claws hidden from the MC. It allows him to portray himself not as the beast but as the protector. He tries to be the one who guards MC at a distance, who prevents the dragon feasting once more. He is the one who, in his mind, is the one that will stop another tragedy. He internalised a fairytale and believes that, if he acts like the hero, then things must go like they do in the story. The young person targeted by the dragon cannot die if he plays his part.
The dragon. The parallels between it and Harlequin are pretty clear: reptilian tongue, green, sly. Hell, the special AMA even confirmed he is a fire-eater - another thing that ties him with the image of the beast. Obviously, Pierrot sees Harlequin as the dragon - the destroyer, the devourer - but does Harlequin see himself the same way? It’s a popular theory in the fandom that Harlequin makes himself a ‘villain’ so that Pierrot has someone to hate, to stop him falling into the catatonia he was likely in after Columbina’s death, but what if it goes a step further?
Harlequin is a storyteller and, given his previous friendship with Pierrot, he likely knows that this is a story the other cherishes. Is it possible, then, that he plays along with the ‘story’ because it keeps Pierrot sane? Given that they are all performers who shed their former identities and names only to embrace their new ones as the stock characters of the Commedia Dell'arte, they’re used to performing and playing their part, so what’s one more role?
Or is it perhaps because he too has internalised the role of the dragon. That way, he was a mighty, ruthless being, not a starved, weak monster that had to consume one of its kind to stay alive. Maybe the role gives him as much sanity as it does Pierrot.
The final piece of the puzzle: the moonless night. Moonless. St George is associated with the moon, from where he protects the oppressed. There was no moon the night Columbina died: there was no one to save her.
Pierrot is no moon, not quite. He cannot be if Columbina was killed. But perhaps he can be another celestial entity, one that watches and protects when you are in danger and there is no moon to save you. He is not quite the moon, but he can be the stars - the ones that adorn his costume and the one on your pin.
He is not exactly like St George, but he makes every effort to be, so that things can stay as they are in the story.
So that no one he loves is devoured again.
the "rip ___ you would have loved ___" meme is inherently more fun with ancient characters. rip clytemnestra you would have loved morse code. rip theseus you would have loved the airtag. rip callisto you would have loved wearing shorts.
They usually stay in cabin 3 because Pollux always teases them and when he's not there Mr. D makes it his mission to be as obnoxious as possible no matter what they're doing and Lee's cabin has absolutely no privacy
They all train with each others weapons just in case(Percy will never be good with a bow but he knows how to fight alongside some one who does with terrifying efficiency)
Castor lives showing them his favorite hidden spots around camp for them to hide away in together and cuddle
In turn Percy shows them his favorite spots in NYC when they come visit
Percy tries to teach them skateboarding, Castor ends up loving it, Lee less so
Lee often gifts Castor and Percy with shiny things he finds(rocks, metal bottle caps, broken glass, etc.) anything he can get his hands on really and often turns some of it into jewelry for them to wear
Percy will bring trinkets up from shipwrecks and the ocean floor to give to Lee in return
Percy really loves the sound of Castors voice, he often falls asleep to the sound of him talking or singing. He loves even more when they grow out of puberty and his voice matures and deepens
Castor loves it when they run their hands through his hair or rub his back
Castor and Percy will often go to the archery range and sit to watch Lee practice (his siblings tease them relentlessly but they don't really care)
Pjo hcs of animal/monster/other features of demigods/champions
Children of Zeus/Jupiter
Since Zeus' sacred animal is an eagle, his kids have eagle and bull like features. They have eagle wings thay grow out of their backs with time, feathers on the sides of their arms and shoulders, their arms are clawed. Bull horns grow out of their heads with age.
Jupiter's kids have more bull features, they have the horns, a tail and a much tougher skin than a regular demigods. They still have eagle festures, but its contained to the arm feathers and claws.
Greek kids have a taste for fish but roman ones preffer more grassy foods.
Both have slitted pupils that go sideways like a bull's
Champions of Hera/Juno
Both greek and roman share the same features. Peacock feathers grow from the sides of their face and if they have any other feathers then some of them will turn to peacock ones.
Children of Poseidon/Neptune
Bioilluminecent eyes. They have sharp claws and slightly webbed fingers that become fully webbed when in water. All of their teeth are sharp and instead lose them every few years, they just always grow back, similar to sharks.
They have gills on the sides of their ribs along a stripe like pattern of tiger sharks. They have scales on their arms, legs, hips and shoulders.
Rarely but sometimes they have bull horns, similar to children of Zeus/Jupiter
They look some of the least human out of all demigods, their father is the father of monsters.
Children of Demeter/Ceres
Their mother's sacred animal is a serpent, due to which their arms are full of scales that go up to their shoulders, their legs and sides of their faces. Their pupils are slit and so are their tongues.
They can lose their fingers and toes, they grow back like a gecko's tail.
Dove wings grow from their backs, feathers grow from behind their ears too. Their hands like a lot of others are clawed. Their leg structure is somewhat abnormal and share a similarity to that of the bird.
Children of Ares/Mars
Children of Ares have dog claws on their hands and padded feet. Teeth that are very similar to k-9 ones. Instead of regular ears theirs are dog ears. They have dog tails that match a breed with the most similar personality, aswell as if the dog breed has sports or specific patters they have vitiligo or birthmarks to resemble them, their haie also matches the type and color of the breed (irish water spaniel and curly black/dark brown hair). Volture feathers on their necks, shoulders and backs.
Children of Mars have the wolf version of all the Greeks' dog features but they also tend to do a howl like sound at times. Red woodpecker feathers are very often in their hair. They have feathers on their shoulders and small part of their upper backs.
Greeks have a more balanced amount of dog and bird (even if it shows more through behavior) but Romans have more wolf than bird in them (both appearance and behavior wise)
Children of Athena
Most of their features come from owls (ofc). A less noticable one is if the child is more nocturnal their pupils are often larger, and if more of a day person their eyes have a slight yellow/orange hue that is barely noticable.
They have feathers growing on their cheeks and behind ears, sides of their forearms and calves. There are ofcourse their owl wings that grow as they do, feathers spreadjng over a larger part of their back.
They have bird like clawed fingers.
Due to their mother sometimes having a serpent/snake as a sacred animal, some of them have fangs with venom.
Children of apollo
Deer antlers of gold.
Crow wings and feathers in a similar fashion to other bird based features of other demigods but there are no wings on their backs. Instead they have smaller wings on their heads, a bit above and behind their ears. All of their feathers look dipped in gold. Golden and black claws
Forked tongues and venomous fangs, but the venom can both harm and heal people it just matters on the demigod and what they choose to do.
Similar to children of Mars, they have wolf teeth
They glow slightly
Hunters of Artemis/Diana
Upon becoming hunters they grow deer antlers akin to those of children of Apollo but in silver.
Whatever other features they have (feathers, claws etc) will become slightly silver dipped. They will have an ethereal silver glow that becomes brighter the more of the moon is seen
Their teeth become sharper and gain a slight venom.
Instead of being made out of clay they are part mechanisms (mechs reference), and often get parts replaced when they dont work well enough. Some may have a bronze finger or four, perhaps a part of skin they patched over with metal to survive.
They have donkey ears and tail that matches their hair color.
They all have red or yellow eyes, like those of a crane. They also often have red streaks in their hair, surrounding their face.
Theyre all so fine
Children of Aphrodite/Venus
This is something that doesnt jump out easily. They look uncanny in a way. Not badly ofcourse, they are children of the goddess of beauty. They just look too sculpted, too symetrical, too perfect, to be a normal human. They also have impossibly smooth skin, like a dolphins.
Children of Aphrodite have dove wings on their temples and feathers around their ears and necks.
Venus' kids on the other hand have goose wings om their temples and habe its feathers around their ears and necks.
Children of Hermes/Mercury
They ofcourse have hawk wings on their ankles (forever cursed to wear low rise shoes) and some feathers on their calves. They have clawed like nails and fanged teeth.
Children of Hermes have ram/sheep horns that grow out of their hair, they also have pupils that are slited sideways like a ram's. They chew on anything close when bored (dont leave your things around theyre not gonna steal it, theyre eating it)
Children of Mercury on the other hand have multicolored hair like a rooster's, with feathers sometimes there aswell. They can also scream like one.
Children of Dionysus/Bacchus
The greek and roman kids share most of their atributes. They have leopard ears and tails, aswell as claws and quite sharp teeth. They can sometimes be venomous but its rare.
Dionysus' kids have bull horns that stick out of their hair.
Bht Bacchus' kids have serpent scales on their arms, necks, shoulders, hips, ribs and thighs.
This is not the end, ill be editing it whenever i have the time and ideas to do so
We all know what Percy's flaw is, loyalty. He stays by your side no matter what even if he shouldn't, even if it hurts him. he is loyal like a dog. He would follow you anywhere. Would stand by you in any situation. Would come at your call to the back and close his eyes without hesitation as you level a gun between his eyes.
Lee's fatal flaw is love. His love is bright and all encompassing. He loves freely and unconditionally. He would do anything, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, for the people he holds dear. Climb any mountain, slay any beast if he believed it would bring him closer to you. His love is like the sun, burning and inescapable. He would chase you to the ends of the earth, if only to hold you close(he loves like his father, possessive and obsessed, clutching tightly in his hands until it turns to ash)
Castor holds grudges. It takes forever for him to let go of the slightest grievance to himself or the few he holds dear. He will make sure to settle every score tallied in his books. Dionysus still hates the sea for their crimes against his wife. They're all the same in his eyes, piers and thieves who use those around them.
