I caved. I saw an excuse to draw a mommy (you'll learn that that's a theme with my ocs). And my pan ass loves women too.
I'll draw a more rendered version of her eventually. "Make her an iridescent white!" I said. "It'll be fun." I said. I was so wrong. It was so difficult LOL
Meet Artiste! I have a story below the cut if you'd like to know a little more about her.
It was only supposed to be a little blip, but it got out of hand... I hope you like her! Cause she definitely likes you.
Credit for dividers: gold one from @/rmstitanics | teal one by @/sweethearticism
Word count: 1.5k
TFC OC x MC
You weren't sure how you got here. It's like your feet moved on their own accord. You look down at your hands holding the iridescent ticket that had been gifted to you by the mysterious performer. What even happened?
The circus had been in town, so it wasn't a surprise you would run into the performers at some point. They were really hard to miss in their extravagant outfits. You remember wiping down some mugs, finding ways to pass the time during this slow period at work. Ting-ting
“Welcome-” The words halted as if bumping into the person at the door. She was definitely one of the circus performers, but it was your first time seeing this one. Besides her outfit giving her away she almost seemed to… glow? You were almost convinced she was a fae ready to whisk you away. And god was she tall. She was taller than the red Pierrot you saw from time to time. You must have zoned out because the woman was right in front of you now, bending over so she could see you eye to eye. You nearly dropped the mug if it wasn't for the performer catching it with so much grace it had felt rehearsed.
There was a pause and then a soft chuckle from the performer which you could only assume was caused by you dropping your jaw to the ground instead of the mug.
“I'm quite good at catching things.” She mused as she held out the mug towards you.
“Uh… y-yeah. Thank you.” You had managed to stammer, coming back to this plane of existence and reaching for the ceramic. Your fingers brushed with hers and, though hers were clothed behind gloves, hers were quite soft besides the claws of her costume. You quickly moved the mug to a safe place, scared because you felt like you were going to drop it again. You wiped your hands on your apron, centering yourself. “Phew… well uh… now that that's over, what can I get'cha?”
“A milky oolong with lavender honey if you will, love.”
You mentally slapped yourself at feeling giddy with the nickname. “Not coffee like your companions?”
“It's a little too bitter for me if I'm honest. Even Pierrot's concoction, which I'm sure you've made at this point, doesn’t cover coffee's distinct bitterness for me. I like things… sweet.”
You tugged at your collar, a nervous laugh leaving you as she drew out the last word like honey itself. “Can I get a name for the order?” Really? Really??? There's no one in the cafe and you're asking for her name? The woman smiled, excited you had asked, and placed her hand delicately on her chest.
“Artiste.”
“Artiste. I'll get that going for ya.” While you were clinking around behind the counter you could feel Artiste's eyes following you from where she sat. You wanted to fill the silence, distract yourself from those eyes, and maybe hear more about this new performer. “Soooo… What do you do at the circus, Artiste?”
Her eyes lit up at the interest. “Curious about my show, love?” Her voice was playful. She rested her chin atop of her folded hands and grinned. “I'm a trapeze artist.”
“Ohhhhh, well that explains your name.”
Another chuckle. “You're not wrong, but there's also another reason. My performances are poetic.” You leaned in to hear more while handing her her order. She held the money toward you and in turn you raised your hand below hers, like a puppy being told to shake. As you felt her place the money in your hand two things caught your attention: something that didn't feel like money and her hand once again brushing against yours. You lifted the money to see what was underneath. A shiny ticket? You shifted your hand around watching the different colors reflect in and out.
“Why don't you come to my show and see for yourself, love? My shows make you feel alive. Trust me.”
You lift the ticket towards your face and notice a familiar sweet scent still lingering on it. It made you think of a sun setting on a summer evening over a garden full of strawberries and flowers — warm, comforting, and like a breath of fresh air all in one. It smells like her. Your cheeks feel warm at the thought. I just want to see her show! You try to convince yourself.
You swear you heard Ticket Taker sigh, presenting him with yet another uncommon ticket. He mutters something faintly under his breath and then pauses once the ticket is in his hands.
“Ah… You are in for an experience, dear visitor.” He clips into the shiny material. “It is truly a heart racing performance.” All you do in response is a quiet laugh. Does the review make you more excited or anxious? You're not sure.
You were becoming accustomed to the circus since this would be your fourth show you've seen. Pierrot, Harlequin, Jester and now Artiste. You make your way to the black and white tent that didn't match the vibe of the one it belongs to. The design felt dull in comparison. The tent isn't as large as Pierrot's, but still quite spacious. You plop down in a front row seat just as the lights shut off.
“Welcome darlings!” The soothing voice calls out followed by the sound of a spotlight turning on. The light reveals Artiste suspended at the center of the tent. The bar looks like a regular swing with how casually she sits on it. “We have an exciting show for you tonight!” She gestures at one of the platforms when another spotlight appears. “I have lovely assistants to help with today's performance, but there's a catch. They have no experience with this act whatsoever!”
Murmurs began to rise from the crowd. “Yeah, right.” You hear from a man near you.
“And why don't we up the ante by removing the net?” What? A few more “fools,” as Harlequin referred to them, appear on the ground holding axes and with a simultaneous swing to each corner of the weaved rope, the safety net lays there on the ground a deflated balloon.
More murmurs erupt from the seats. Um… I don't think this is legal…
The iridescent performer begins to sway back and forth. “Trust is a powerful concept. When broken, things become tainted, unstable, or perhaps you may even wind up dead.” You gulp at the insinuation. “But as the world trusts stars to guide them home, put your trust in me. I will keep everyone safe.” With that she swoops over to the opposite platform of the assistants and now things really start.
The show is fast-paced, a glimmer of white darting and twirling from bar to bar as she basically juggles this other person around. The assistant is not short by any means, but compared to her they do look small. Artiste was right. There was something poetic about watching this white light dance around the air like the stars she had mentioned, romantic even.
You could feel the show rising to its finale when suddenly the fool slips out of Artiste's hands. The first few seconds everyone believes it's part of the routine. A pit begins to form in your stomach and you feel your whole body tense when you realize —
there is no saving this person.
Screams rip from the audience. You hear some laugh under their breath with delight “This is going to be a mess.” How could someone be amused in this situation? The pit tightens and you feel like you can't breathe. Your heartbeat sounds so loud thumping against your ear drum. You clench your eyes shut and wring your hands together when the assistant gets too close to the ground. You don't know what you were calling out to, but you just want something to save this person.
The crowd goes silent. And that's the thing. Silence. You hesitantly peel one of your eyes open expecting to see a horrific sight. Instead you are greeted by a ball of iridescent fabric.
Artiste opens her arms, the fabric making the movement look like wings, to reveal the person curled into her — safe and sound. Her eyes finally returned to the crowd and a smile spreads across her face. “Remember, darlings: trust me. Wasn't that exhilarating? Do you feel the adrenaline coursing through you?”
The crowd erupts in applause. You still, however, hear a few who are actually disappointed. Disgusting. The man earlier throws out an “I knew it.”
You absent mindedly applaud as well, still processing the scene. You see her lock eyes with you and she shoots you a warm, genuine smile. You return the smile and she beams even more. Perhaps you could trust her. After all, her show didn't involve blood like the others. You felt safe around her.
Little did you know that these thoughts were the beginning of her teeth sinking into you.
Based on a post @macchinetta-draws made. I thought it was a cute image hehe. Also made for Macchinetta to hopefully brighten their day 🌻🩷 I hope I did him justice 👉👈
Based on a post @macchinetta-draws made. I thought it was a cute image hehe. Also made for Macchinetta to hopefully brighten their day 🌻🩷 I hope I did him justice 👉👈
Based on a post @macchinetta-draws made. I thought it was a cute image hehe. Also made for Macchinetta to hopefully brighten their day 🌻🩷 I hope I did him justice 👉👈
I want to repost your content to another platform, and I will mark the source. Is that okay?
Hi there! Thank you for asking, but that's gonna be a no. If you let me know which platform I could probably repost it myself? It's just been a while since I've returned to social media, so currently I'm just active on Tumblr.
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