Reminder that I am still a degenerate via TTaYS spice /silly
Very short but ya know 👀 I was just in the mood and I’m still pretty fixated on TTaYS, even if it’s having to share room with The Freak Backrooms now LOL
Smut below cut. Be warned. 18+ only
You whimpered with each and every harsh thrust of his hips against yours, the gag in your mouth muffling every little sound you made.
Jester groaned as your insides gripped at his cock. “That’s it, little spider… so good for me… so tight… so delicious~” You yelped as he bit into your shoulder, sharp teeth sinking into your skin. He suckled at the spot for a bit, making sure it was thoroughly marked, before retracting his teeth and lapping up the blood seeping from the puncture wounds, moaning at the taste.
You could feel the way your core was tightening, the pleasure that had been building growing closer and closer to hitting that peak, and you screwed your eyes shut in anticipation. As soon as you did though, you felt a tug on the leashed purple collar around your neck, causing you to whine and arch your back into your bound wrists.
“Look at me, sweet spider. I want your eyes on me as I fuck your little human hole and carve myself so deeply into you that you forget your own damn name,” He growled, an almost feral sound of possession, “You’re mine. Only mine.”
Got a comm from an artist I really like, Reen Zal (who I also highly recommend), of Jester and my sona (as a human) in a way similar to my fic, To Trap a Yarn Spinner hehehehehe
On that note, here’s my TFC self insert! Evee is a shy and introverted writer who likes to keep to herself and prefers a low profile, but is fascinated by many things. If something is horror related, it’s almost guaranteed to catch her attention. As such, a good portion of her books are of some type of horror. And it seems they’ve caught someone’s interest…
She really should’ve kept a better eye on her book notes… Now she knows something’s wrong, and that something’s got its eyes out for her. She’ll be damned if she becomes the star of her own horror story; she is a writer of stories, not their main character! But that’s not her decision at the end of the day anymore, is it?
Follow the trail of the spider’s thread, and you’ll surely find the spinner, right?
IT’S HERE! Chapter 1 of To Trap a Yarn Spinner! I hope you enjoy!
It’s not beta read sorry ACK So if you see any grammar mistakes pls lmk ;u;
Around 2400 words DAMN-
Chapter 1: A Peculiar Guest
“That has to be the third time I’ve witnessed you read that very same book,” Ticket Taker’s voice pulled Jester from the words upon the page. “It’s been a while since you’ve been so taken with a single piece of literature.”
The younger monster hummed. “I suppose I cannot help it. I’ve grown quite taken with this author’s work, this book in particular.” He raised it a bit in emphasis. It was evident he’d read it several times, given the slight wear upon the softening fibers of the hardcover.
The eldest’s head tilted slightly. “Is that so? What’s it about?”
“It’s a rather thrilling tale of murder, mystery, madness, and superstition. It delves into the complexities of psychology and how the mind can warp reality, and how all humans are the animals we know them to truly be, but in a rather creative way. It’s called Shattered Reflections, and it never ceases to be an entertaining read.”
“You speak incredibly highly of this book.” Ticket Taker noted.
“Human the author may be, I know how to appreciate a good story, and this writer’s yarn spinning ways have captivated me time and time again, especially with this book.” Jester said. He pulled the object close to his chest like one would a dear treasure. “I’ll admit that it’s my favorite they’ve written. It tickles my brain in all the right ways and its ending always leaves me pondering over it for days straight, even after several reads.”
Ticket Taker nodded. It was good to see Jester enjoying himself so thoroughly. It was no surprise, as the way he described the book made it sound like it hit a large majority of the genres and themes he favored, and he’d always been an avid reader. Even if Ticket Taker wasn’t as into books as Jester was, he fancied a good story as much as the next person, and the way the circus’ leader had described the book made it sound very intriguing. “Might I borrow the book when you are through with this read? Your description has piqued my interest.”
Jester shook his head ‘yes’. “Certainly.” Just then the Ticket Taker’s alarm went off. “Ah, seems it’s just about that time. Let’s get those gates open.”
——————
The evening had been proceeding as usual. Jester, Harlequin, and Pierrot performed their shows for their guests, the pink ticket of the day was secure for when they closed the circus for the night, and everything was actually running fairly smoothly with few negative interactions from guests. At least, that was what Jester assumed until he got a summons from Ticket Taker to the entrance. Ticket Taker was usually able to perfectly handle any customer problem on his own, so Jester was automatically on edge as he made his way over. Contrary to what he was expecting, however, there was no fighting or screaming humans, simply a single human with a notebook and pen standing calmly beside the Ticket Taker, making polite conversation with him.
Jester cleared his throat as he approached. “You requested my assistance for something, Ticket Taker?”
The white eyed monster looked up. “Ah, yes. Dear guest, this is the Jester, leader of our humble circus.” The Ticket Taker introduced the purple clown to the human. He then turned back to Jester. “This guest here wished to discuss something with you.”
Jester’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?” Judging from the notebook and pen, his first thought was that they were a journalist who wished to write a story about the recent disappearances that the townsfolk were starting to blame the circus for, and that was the last thing he needed. But even guests like that were swiftly… handled by Ticket Taker without aid or interference by other cast members, so that couldn’t be the case here… Could it?
The human nodded, a pleasant smile on their face, or as pleasant as Jester could find a human smile. You stuck out your arm in offer for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, sir!” You said enthusiastically. “I’m a local horror author, and I was hoping that you would grant me permission to use your circus as inspiration for my next book!”
Amethyst eyes blinked at you for a moment before the smile returned to the purple clown’s face. “An author, huh?” He asked, making sure to keep the pleasant facade as he shook your hand. “I’m actually quite an avid lover of books, horror among my favorites.”
Your grin widened. “How wonderful! I’d be more than happy to have a copy of the finished book sent to you if you’d like? As well as proper compensation for allowing me to use your circus as my muse.”
Ticket Taker perked up at that. “Compensation?” He echoed.
“Of course!” You said, turning to him. “It’d only be polite, and I’m more than happy to support businesses like this!” You reached into your pocket and pulled out five crisp hundred dollar bills. “Would this be enough to entice you to allow me to take notes for the night? I’d also be happy to donate a portion of the proceeds from the book’s sales when I’ve published it.”
The white iris within Ticket Taker’s dark eye socket seemed to glow as he looked over at Jester. He knew what that look meant. Five hundred from a single guest was… a lot. More than just about any other guest had ever given them. Most only paid for admission, maybe a snack or two, and that was it, and that rarely ever amounted to even a hundred. In comparison to what they made in an entire night, it wasn’t a lot, but hell, it still wasn’t anything to sneeze at! But still, Jester hesitated. He didn’t want any human poking around where they shouldn’t.
Noticing his hesitation, you quickly added, “I promise to stay only in the areas accessible to general admission and mostly just take notes on performances. I’m not asking for any backstage access or anything, I just wish to write a bit about my observations and ask a few questions, and thought it appropriate to ask before doing so.”
The Jester hummed in acknowledgement of your words and seemed to ponder for a moment. Glancing at Ticket Taker, he knew the eldest would be extremely disappointed if he turned down this offer. The ticket puncher disliked humans almost as much as his leader, but money was money, and considering he was in charge of the budget, he knew that better than anyone. Plus, if you kept your word, they had little to worry about. With a small sigh, he relented. “Very well, little monster.”
Your face brightened. “Thank you so much! I promise to make it worth your while!” You quickly handed the five hundred over to Ticket Taker, who took it gratefully, and proceeded inside, already uncapping your pen, which Jester noticed was a rather lovely white marbled blue fountain pen, a professional writing tool. With that money and that pen, he was at least assured you weren’t lying about being an author.
Jester turned back to Ticket Taker, who was authenticating the bills. “Let the others know I want that human in someone’s sight at all times.” He said. “They have a curious spirit. I don’t want them venturing too far.”
Ticket Taker nodded in full agreement. “As you wish.”
——————
The cast was careful to keep a close eye on you throughout the entire night, always making sure you were in the sight of at least one of them at all times. In their surveillance, they witnessed you only do as you said you would. You were constantly writing in your notebook, and when you weren’t writing, you were either asking questions (none relating in any way to their pink tent activities, thankfully) or scrutinizing everything around you with the intensity of a homicide detective at a gruesome murder scene (which did serve to put them slightly on edge).
It was during one of Jester’s turns keeping watch of you that you asked a question that took him a bit by surprise.
“Do you have a favorite book, Mr Jester?” His head tilted slightly, and you clarified, “You said you were an avid reader, with horror as one of your favored genres. Do you have a favorite book? I’m always looking for new recommendations, or perhaps I’ll have already read it and we could discuss it if you’re not too busy or bothered.”
The purple clown hummed. “I do have a favorite book. Shattered Reflections, written by my current preferred author (Your Full Name).” When he noticed you still at his words, he turned to face you fully. “Have you heard of it?”
You shook your head and hid a smile with a cough into your fist. “You could say that.” You cleared your throat. “W-why don’t you, uh, tell me about it?”
“I’d be happy to.” Jester chuckled. Though he wasn’t necessarily fond of humans, he knew he had to keep up appearances for guests, and he was almost always willing to talk about Shattered Reflections, and its author by extension, even to a human. And so he did, all while you listened quietly and nodded along, though it wasn’t a polite nodding. He could tell you were soaking in every word he spoke, but he didn’t really understand the flush that appeared on your cheeks every time he praised the author’s work; their ingenuity, the incredible way they had with words, their brilliant storytelling skills, the way their writing always had him thinking even after he’d finished the book, and so much more. When he noticed that you were hiding your face in your notebook, he stopped. “Is something wrong?”
“Hmm?” You peeked out. “Oh! N-no, no, of course not!” You quickly insisted, face red and voice higher pitched to an almost squeak. “I just- wow, they sound like an amazing writer. I’ll, uh, have to look into their books!”
The Jester nodded. “I highly suggest it.” He pulled out his own copy of Shattered Reflections that he usually kept with him for downtime between shows. Your eyes slightly widened at how worn the book seemed. He’d clearly read it several times. “If you’d like to write down the name of the book and author, here.”
You gingerly took the book. “Thanks.” You made a show of writing down what he assumed was the title and author’s name in your notebook, if the moving of your pen and the sound of scratching ink onto paper was any indication.
That was when his phone decided to go off. He checked it to find a text from the Doctor. “We have a small problem with our two rowdiest members.” Jester sighed. He couldn’t ask the Ticket Taker or Doctor to keep an eye on you while he took care of this. He’d have to leave you unsupervised for a few minutes. “I have something I must take care of.” He told you. “I’ll return shortly.”
“Oh, don’t rush on my behalf.” You insisted. “I believe I’ve asked all the questions I have. I’ll simply take a couple more notes and be on my way. Have a good night, Mr Jester.” You gave him a small wave before returning to your notebook. He nodded and walked off. That’s when you noticed you were still holding the book. You looked down at it, fingers tracing the author’s name.
“Hmm…”
You opened the cover and carefully placed your pen to the flyleaf.
——————
By the time Jester got the two brawling monsters to settle down, closing time had arrived and guests were departing. Likewise, you were gone by the time he returned to where he’d left you.
And so was his book, he realized.
He hissed, looking around frantically for his beloved copy of his favorite book. Had you stolen it? He wouldn’t put it past you. You’d seemed pleasant on the surface, but he knew all humans were foul at their core. He practically turned the circus upside down as he searched in what he was beginning to realize was in vain. Damnit! This was why he hated humans. Give a little and they’ll do nothing but take. With a growl, Jester resigned himself to having to buy a new copy in the morning as he entered his tent. That’s when his eyes landed on the book upon his stage. He blinked. Had it been here the whole time? Well that’s a bit embarrassing. He quickly made his way towards the stage with long, purposeful strides and picked it up, mind easing as he felt the familiar cover beneath his claws. With a smile and a sigh, he flipped it open, only to freeze. There was a note written with neat penmanship upon the flyleaf.
Thank you for allowing me to observe your incredible horror circus in action, Mr Jester. I’ll admit, it was a rather lovely surprise to find such an avid fan of my work in you, and your compliments made it hard for me to keep it together. I hope you will enjoy the book you and your cast are inspiring as much as you did this one~
~ (Your Initials)
P.S. I do hope you and the rest of the circus can forgive me for the unending questions I asked of you all. Would an additional donation to your circus and a signed first edition copy of my next novel before it hits shelves be sufficient repayment for your courtesy?
As his gaze fell upon the number and email below as he finished reading, he just about nearly dropped the book. The little human with the bombardment of inquiries and questions, with the beautiful little fountain pen and notebook who was constantly scribbling throughout their visit, the one he’d incorrectly assumed had stolen his book… The author of Shattered Reflections had been at his circus?! Yes, they’d said they were a writer (a horror writer at that) when they asked if they could question him and the cast and if he would be alright with them using the circus as loose inspiration for a story they had in mind, but he never would have guessed they were the (Your Full Name), the very name upon his current favorite work of fiction.
He instantly pulled out his phone and typed in the number on the flyleaf. He had to know for sure…
Got excited and decided to skip the queue and post early- ISHXIFIV
This took way longer than I thought it would OOF- but now I’m done! AAAAAA! Finished at 3,567 words. Sorry for the weird layout in some parts I’m still not sure how to center text on tumblr 😭 it looks better on Ao3
No beta we die like Columbina LMAO lmk if y’all notice any grammar mistakes so I can fix ‘em. I’m so excited for y’all to read this! Pls lmk what you think! And so, without further ado…
Chapter 2: Coffee and Control
As he stared down at the text, the playful wink and the truth of your identity revealed to him, Jester felt disgusted at first, a feeling that was immediately overtaken by sheer excitement over the fact he’d just met the author whose work he adored so much that he’d openly praised it to his family and to a stranger. This then almost instantly transformed into even more disgust than before, less so with you and primarily with himself. When you were just a faceless name on his favorite books, he was fine with admiring the concept of you. Subconsciously, and logically, he’d known you were human, but without knowing you personally, it was something he could easily overlook. But now that he’d met you in person, put a face to the name of the writer he adored, a human face, he wanted to smack himself. Force the admiration out, as much as he knew he couldn’t. He shook himself, growling in frustration.
“Ah, you found it?” The words snapped Jester from his thoughts, and he whirled around to face the Ticket Taker. “You seem… unnerved.”
Jester huffed. “I am unnerved.” He hissed. He then sighed, looking back down at the note, claws ghosting over your penmanship, the words his favorite author had personally crafted solely for him. “But yes, I did find it,” he continued, tracing your initials, “Along with an… unexpected surprise.” He hated that the words came out more tender than he intended. ‘Disgusting,’ he thought to himself, almost as if it were a reminder. When Ticket Taker tilted his head, a silent request for clarification, Jester showed him the note.
When he read it for himself, the Ticket Taker was genuinely taken aback. He looked back up to stare at Jester incredulously. “You’re kidding. That generous guest was your favorite author?”
“So it would seem,” Jester said, pulling the book back to him.
“Small world…” Was all the blue clad monster could manage to mutter.
Jester frowned as he turned away. “Too small.”
Ticket Taker’s head cocked to the side. “I would think you’d be elated to have met your favorite author.”
“That’s the problem,” Jester growled, “I am elated, and I hate it.”
The eldest monster hummed in thought at his leader’s words. It made sense for Jester’s feelings on the matter to be… complicated. None of them were particularly fond of humans, after all. Jester likely felt a sense of weakness over the fondness he held for the writing of the author he’d met face to face tonight, and weakness towards a human was something they had all sworn off long ago. After gaining their freedom, they were all supposed to remain in control. The humans were pulled by their strings, not the other way around. But right now, Jester probably felt he was on the wrong side of the threads.
Finally, Ticket Taker spoke up once more. “Why don’t you meet with them?”
Jester turned to look at the Ticket Taker like he’d just grown a second head. “What?” His tone demanded clarification. Surely the Ticket Taker wasn’t serious.
“What you feel right now is a lack of control, is it not?” The blue clad monster asked. “Running away and hiding from them will not help you feel like you’ve regained control. The only way you’ll feel in control of the narrative again… will be if you take it.”
The purple monster stared at his elder for a moment… before his smile returned, sharp as ever. “Wise words, old friend.” He let out a low chuckle, “Wise words…”
——————
When you reached home, the first thing you did was make your way over to your little book nook, where you instantly made yourself cozy, same as you had dozens of times before. You pulled out your notebook and pen, a sodalite treasure to boost your creativity, and began to go through what you had written during your night at The Freak Circus of Horrors. You managed to get about only a quarter way into your notes between the reading, highlighting, and idea writing you were doing when your phone rang. When you looked at the caller ID, you lightly chuckled. Seems he just couldn’t resist, could he?
Jester
Incoming Call
Decline Accept
With a tiny smile, you pressed Accept. “Hello?”
——————
As soon as he heard you say hello, he allowed himself to greet you. “Good evening, YN.” He suppressed the shiver of delight he felt over the privilege of being able to speak his favorite author’s name directly to them. Soon, he wouldn’t be the one shuddering from uncontrollable feelings anymore.
“Good evening, Mr Jester,” you politely returned before letting out a small chuckle, “Don’t you believe it is rather late to be calling?”
He gave a breathy laugh as he engaged you in your banter. You seemed much more witty and playful now than you did during your visit. “You left me your number for a reason, did you not?”
This time, you laughed earnestly. “That I did, that I did,” you then cleared your throat, “May I ask your reason for calling?”
Unbeknownst to you, the Jester grinned at your question. You seemed receptive and intrigued. Good. That would allow for things to progress rather smoothly as he saw fit. He just had to officially get you to bite. “There is indeed. I was wondering if you wouldn’t be averse to meeting me for coffee. I rather enjoyed your company at the circus tonight and was hoping you’d be willing to grant me another chance at conversation.”
He heard you hum in thought. “And what’s in it for me?” You asked teasingly. It seemed rhetorical, like you were already willing to say yes, but Jester wanted to guarantee that yes. So he played along.
His grin sharpened. “Answers about my circus and help with your notes to your heart’s content.” He paused for a bit of effect before adding, “If you can handle them, of course.”
You burst into a fit of giggles. “I must admit, you drive a rather hard bargain, Mr Jester!” You said between your chortles. “Very well, I accept. I’ll meet you at the café on Main at noon tomorrow?”
Hook, line, and sinker. “I look forward to it, my dear~”
——————
It was around 11:50 AM when Jester walked through the coffee shop’s doors. Though it was indeed ten minutes before the designated meeting time you had set, the ring leader believed in punctuality, and on time was not punctual. Early was. Once finding himself an empty table that was… decently separated from the rest of the establishment’s current population, he settled himself in and took the time his early arrival had provided him to scan his environment.
It was a quaint little shop, only about five or six tables, which kept the noise to a minimum, at least when compared to a typical café. There were people in line with the coming lunch rush and a few tables were occupied, but thankfully, most of the customers seemed that they merely desired to take their orders when complete and continue on their way. Especially among those who noticed his presence in the shop, unnerved at the thought of sharing his company for more time than necessary. Jester hummed to himself as he watched them fidget and squirm as his gaze swept over them. Truly pathetic creatures.
That’s when the barista caught his eye. He cocked a brow at the sight of them. The Jester wasn’t expecting to see Pierrot’s little human obsession behind the counter when he set out to meet you. Harlequin had said the little rat worked in a café though, now that he thought about it. He quietly snickered as he watched them shrink away from his watchful gaze. They feared him. Good. They should.
Given Pierrot’s track record, he wasn’t surprised to see him walk through the door not too long afterwards. He smiled at the sight of his little… toy, before stiffening when he noticed Jester at the corner table he’d chosen. Pierrot’s golden eyes glanced back and forth between them, trying to piece together if he should take this as a sign the human's safety was in immediate danger. He eventually stalked towards the Jester, positioning himself in a way that the barista was hidden from his view.
Jester silently clicked his tongue, motioning Pierrot closer so they could speak more privately. “Relax, Pierrot,” he said, “I’m not here for your pet. I’m here on personal business.” When Pierrot tilted his head questioningly, Jester almost answered him, but the sound of the door’s bell chime gave him pause. He looked over and there you were, looking as if you just crawled out of a book nook, notebook and pen clutched to your chest as you jogged over to him. His eyes briefly and subtly shifted to the clock on the wall. 12 PM, right on the dot.
He rose from his seat, arms dramatically outstretched in a theatrical show of greeting. “Ah, there you are~!”
You smiled a bit sheepishly. “Hello, Mr Jester,” you said, coming to a stop in front of him, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
Jester smiled as he took in everything about you in that moment, assessing you carefully. Accurately. He took note of your lighter tone of voice, your almost embarrassed flush. This didn’t match how you’d spoken to him over the phone and through text. This much more closely resembled your demeanor when he’d been complimenting your book to you, back when he was unaware of who you actually were. Confident until you had to be face to face with the one who knew your work, and who now knew you. His eyes faintly glowed with interest. This could work to his advantage…
He lightly chuckled. “Not at all, dear,” he cooed. He walked to your side and placed a hand upon the small of your back, his touch leaving no room for argument as he guided you to the table. “Come, take a seat.” Jester’s eye caught Pierrot’s as he passed. He could see the accusation all over his mask. Hypocrite, it said. He scoffed to himself. As if. He’s not “in love”. Love is a seed from which all sorrow grows; it is not made for creatures like them, and certainly not when it comes to humans. He just needed back control.
It was as he was making you sit down that his brain finally registered your smell. Your scent was a unique one, but not unpleasant. Quite the opposite, actually. The smell of old books and fresh ink with a hint of cinnamon spice and, oddly, rain reminded him of a chill autumn day. It brought him back to the time he first read Shattered Reflections. When he first fell in love with your work. A cozy evening midway through the fall season on one of the circus’ rare days off. Gentle rain pitter pattered outside as a cinnamon scented candle (courtesy of Pierrot) flickered lazily while illuminating the pages. He remembered how he had caressed those pages in the soft light, claws tracing carefully over the words as he was pulled deeper and deeper into the story they held.
How fitting that your scent took him straight back to this very memory. It felt poetic, in a way, and almost… purposeful. Like you’d crafted things to be this way, down to the most minute of details, spinning every encounter he had with you and your work the way you wove your beautiful mosaics of the written word. It entranced him in a way he knew he couldn’t deny. His lips twitched, fascination and irritation warring with each other. No human should be able to have such an effect on him, and it made him all the more determined to take back what he believed was rightfully his.
He watched as Pierrot’s pet made their way over to you, voice trembling as they asked what you and the Jester would like. Your smile was bright as you asked for (favorite drink) while Jester requested a simple black coffee with a sharp grin on his face aimed at the troublesome human. They shivered and nodded before scurrying off back behind the counter, which Jester watched with satisfaction.
“Do you know them?” That instantly pulled his attention back to you. He hummed questioningly, a request for clarification. You absentmindedly twirled your pen, eyes shyly downcast. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just… the way you both were acting made it seem like you knew each other.”
Jester nodded, though his smile no longer reached his eyes. It made sense in hindsight for you to be this observant, but the casual extreme attentiveness you held could be a problem… How could you read him so well…? He’d have to keep his cards close to his chest to keep you from catching a peek. After a moment of hesitation, he finally answered. “You could say that,” he said, “I wouldn’t say I know them personally, but I know one of my fellow cast members is… fond of them.” It took great effort not to let his true feelings show through his comment, your perceptiveness having instantly activated a cautious awareness in him surrounding his actions and tone.
You seemed to accept his explanation, but he could tell you had more questions, likely surrounding the fear Pierrot’s pet seemed to have of him. He was about to change the subject when the barista returned, shakily placing your orders down. Your grin returned. “Thank you!” The other human gave you a quivering smile before running off again without even looking Jester’s way. He looked down at his drink. The smell of perfectly brewed black coffee drifted up from the to-go cup. Well, if anything, at least they knew how to make a good coffee.
As you took a sip of your beverage, he idly swirled his cup of coffee before speaking. “I was hoping to go over your notes with you,” he phrased it passively, nonchalantly. He didn’t want it to seem like he was accusing you, as that might cause you to become defensive. Retreat away from him. He couldn’t have that… Not yet, at least. “There are certain things I would like to remain exclusive to my circus, but I’m happy to give you more in depth notes of what I’ll allow in exchange.” An offer. A deal. A hook.
You blinked, still for a moment, before startling back to life. “Oh!” The sound popped out of you like a bubble, “Yes, of course!” You shook your head, seemingly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry I didn’t offer to do that with you last night! I was just- whew- so caught off guard to meet such an avid fan of my work in person that it must’ve slipped my mind, haha!” Your laugh came out nervous, but not the kind of nervous that comes from being caught doing something naughty. No, it was the kind of nervous that comes from feeling exposed. This confirmed his suspicions. When you were able to hide behind just the mask of your name, when there was no face to who you were, you had a confidence about you, and you seemed to carry that confidence in real life until someone threatened that mask, the peace of your personal life. He had a feeling you liked anonymity given your face was never on your books, but now he had confirmation. He was one of likely no more than a mere handful of people who knew to connect your face to your books, and you felt stripped bare before him because of it.
How delicious.
When he looked down, he found your notes laid bare before him. He felt his breath quietly hitch in his throat, his fingers reaching for the pages in hesitant reverence, something he quietly cursed himself for. The thought processes of his favorite author, upon pages touched by their very own personal ink. Not a mass produced copy, not a photograph of your notes, but the exact pages you touched, that you wrote upon, where your brilliant craft began.
His eyes carefully took in everything before each page turn. There were many observation notes, but there were also several personal notes, jotted ideas with names of characters, thoughts regarding what inspired you most and what plot points they would be good for. A new (Your Full Name) book in its most raw, infantile form. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the pages.
You watched as The Jester carefully pored over your writings, leg slightly bouncing under the table. You rarely showed your notes to others, even your family and friends, anxious of how people would view your chicken scratch, but seeing as you had used his circus for your inspiration, it was only right that you let him go over the notes you had taken.
You drummed your fingers against your wrist. The quiet was killing you. You had to break it…
You took another sip of your drink before breaking the silence between you two with a question. “Would you be opposed to me returning to your circus tonight?”
That got his attention. He raised his head, amethyst eyes meeting yours. “You want to come back?” He asked with a curious tilt of his head.
You lightly cleared your throat before nodding in confirmation. “When I came last night, I enjoyed the circus the way an artist enjoys working with their muse,” you explained. “This time, I’d like to enjoy it as an actual guest, ya know? Someone who’s just there to have a good time.”
The purple clown was quiet for a moment, staring at you in thought, taking his time to carefully mull over your question. You were almost scared he was going to say no when you saw his smile widen, sharp teeth proudly on display as they glinted in the minimal afternoon sunlight your little corner booth received. “Is that so~?” His voice came out as a deep, rapturous purr. Seemed he was getting back into character? “In that case, you’re in luck, my dear~! I just so happen to have an extra special ticket on me that I’ve been looking to give out~” He hummed in mischievous, almost giddy, delight as he reached down before pulling out a ticket that was a deep royal purple. He presented it to you between two clawed fingers.
You stared, astounded for a moment. “Are… Are you sure? I promise that I don’t mind paying again to-”
“I insist,” he said, cutting you off. He placed the ticket in your notebook like a bookmark before sliding it back over to you. Grabbing his coffee, he then stood. You briefly registered that he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink before he spoke again. “As much as I enjoyed our time, I must get going. We can finish tonight, that is… if you keep your word?”
It took you a moment to process what he’d said, but when you did, you smiled. If he truly wanted you to return with this ticket, one that you were gifted free of charge, you weren’t really in a position to say no. “Of course! Thank you so much, Mr. Jester!”
He gave a theatrical little bow. “Happy to bring you new screams~ And just Jester is fine now, dear. I shall see you tonight, little spider~” The pet name just slipped out, rolling off his tongue with ease, but you didn’t seem to mind it, though you likely thought it was just part of one of his acts.
It wasn’t.
To him, the humans who visited the circus were all addressed as “visitors” or “monsters”. As a whole, they were “pests”. But you? He didn’t dare group you with the common rabble. No, no, he couldn’t bear to do that to his favorite author, even if you were human like the rest. You were your own kind of creature, one that occupied their own corner of the ringleader’s mind, stringing up cobwebs in the darkness where you spun your brilliant stories.
But if you were to ask for honesty, that wasn’t the only reason the Jester dubbed you as such. Oh, of course, it was indeed partially for that; the space you occupied, worming your way in without him noticing until you had already made yourself at home; the tales you expertly weaved together the way a spider weaved its silk threads, creating beautiful tapestries of the written language that he couldn’t help but stop to admire. But he also had come to accept that you had a purpose, even if he initially saw you as insignificant or a pest like the rest when he first met you. A purpose to be his. Not only that… he really liked the irony.
There were the webs of your stories that entangled him so to the point he just couldn’t associate you with the rest of your kind anymore, as much as he may want to. But as a result, there were new webs. By weaving your stories that so easily enthralled the Jester’s mind, you had unfortunately enticed him to build a bigger, stronger web of his own, one to ensnare the pretty little pen wielder who could capture his attention like no other. Foolish little butterfly… you should struggle while you still have the chance~
I dunno I’m on a horror author high from working on my original stories so AU where TTaYS!MC is the game’s MC and they meet the cast before they become a published author. Take it. No beta we die like Columbina! I’ll fix errors in the morning it is 2am-
Post edit: I think I’ve fixed it to my conscious self’s satisfaction? 🤔
“And what do you think you’re doing?”
You let out a small shriek, practically jumping out of your skin. The amused chuckle that followed told you all you needed to know. “Ah- h-hi, Jester…”
“Hello again, visitor,” he said with his all too familiar calm, calculating smile. “I do believe I asked you a question. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how… upset I get when I’m ignored.”
You involuntarily shuddered. No, you didn’t need that reminder. “Just, uh- just takin’ some notes.” You flashed a sheepish smile. “I, um- I hope that’s ok?”
His head cocked to the side, sharp grin still ever present. “Notes for what purpose, exactly?”
You wet your lips nervously. “I… I want to be an author someday…” You shyly admitted. “I have a story idea for my first book. It’s horror themed so I thought… what, uh- what better way to get tips than from a horror establishment, ya know?” You giggled, but it was not a joyful sound. It was anxious, likely from a combination of the topic of conversation and whom you were having it with.
The Jester’s eyes flashed with curiosity and, dare you say, interest. He hummed before he held out his hand. You blinked. “Huh-”
“I wish to read it, little mouse,” he clarified in a tone that made it sound as though he was speaking to a child, “I will sample your work.”
You frowned, initially wishing to refuse. You knew the Jester didn’t really like you, and you always felt a shiver crawl up your spine when you crossed paths because of it. But then you gave it a little more thought… Pierrot had told you that Jester read a lot, so it was an activity he clearly loved. You weren’t sure about favorite genres, but given where you were… you were sure he at least enjoyed horror. Perhaps, if you were lucky, he might be willing to give you some feedback? And so, with a sigh, you turned the pages of your notebook to a draft you particularly liked. He gave a satisfied nod as he plucked it from your hands.
Shattered Reflections(?) Scene Drafts? the margin read.
To be honest, Jester was not expecting much from your work; he just couldn’t picture Pierrot’s little pet as a skilled writer, but he was in a good mood and desired some entertainment. However, the more he read, these thoughts… began to change.
You watched nervously as his smile slowly faded, his face gaining a more thoughtful look to it. He lowered himself onto one of the audience seats near him as he continued to read. You watched his every move, muscles tensing further with each page he turned. Oh, this was a bad idea, wasn’t it… You wrung your hands like the skittish mouse you were as you waited for him to finish so you could take back your notebook and run on home.
After what felt like an eternity, the Jester closed his eyes, inhaled, and snapped your notebook shut. You flinched at the sound. He stood and approached you once more before he handed it back. “That was… quite interesting.” He said after a moment. His pride made the compliment’s tone seem reluctant, but genuine. “I… look forward to reading more.”
CW for mentions of blood and slightly suggestive themes beneath the cut raaaaaaa
Idk I got inspired maybe this will be a later scene in the Author!MC fic maybe it’ll be scrapped who knows TAKE IT
Btw I’ve decided on a title for the fic. It’s gonna be called To Trap a Yarn Spinner, and it’s 100% gonna be split into chapters for my own sanity. Everything I post relating to it will be tagged with “To Trap a Yarn Spinner” and “TTaYS”. Chapter 1 currently sits at over 700 words now and still isn’t even halfway finished yet
“Oh my God…” You whispered. “Oh my God… Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…” your knees buckled beneath you, causing you to drop to the ground, the blood sticking to your skin barely registering as you stared at the monster before you. “What… what are you…?”
Jester hummed, swiping his long purple tongue over his lips and teeth to lap up the blood he missed. “What I am isn’t entirely important.” He chuckled, swirling the appendage over his fingers next, seemingly savoring the taste of flesh like one would their favorite meal. He then began his approach, leading to you scrambling backwards until there was nowhere left to go. You whimpered as he came to a stop before you and leaned down to meet your eyes. “It’s what you are, my darling little spider, that I find far more interesting.”
Despite the fear coursing through your veins, that spark of writer’s curiosity still piqued at his words. With a trembling voice, you dared to ask him, “And… what am I…?”
His grin widened, as if he’d been waiting for this question all his life. He took one final step forward so that his sharp teeth grazed the skin of your ear as he quietly purred a single word into it. “Mine.”
I wrote this half asleep last night but the wording I thought of was too good to let go imo and I knew I’d forget if I didn’t write it right then and there- fixed all the grammars mistakes (I think) when I woke up and I actually really like how it came out so I felt like sharing it. Might include it in the actual fic, might not, but anyways here’s Jester’s thought process behind the “spider” nickname for Author!MC in To Trap a Yarn Spinner
Slight spoilers below
“Of course, little spider~” The pet name just slipped out, rolling off his tongue with ease, but you didn’t seem to mind it, though you likely thought it was just part of one of his acts.
It wasn’t.
To him, the humans who visited the circus were all addressed as “visitors” or “monsters”. As a whole, they were “pests”. But you? He didn’t dare group you with the common rabble. No, no, he couldn’t bear to do that to his favorite author, even if you were human like the rest. You were your own kind of creature, one that occupied their own corner of the ringleader’s mind, stringing up cobwebs in the darkness where you spun your brilliant stories.
But if you were to ask for honesty, that wasn’t the only reason the Jester dubbed you as such. Oh, of course, it was indeed partially for that; the space you occupied, worming your way in without him noticing until you had already made yourself at home; the tales you expertly weaved together the way a spider weaved its silk threads, creating beautiful tapestries of the written language that he couldn’t help but stop to admire. But he also had come to accept that you had a purpose, even if he initially saw you as insignificant or a pest like the rest when he first met you. A purpose to be his. Not only that…
He liked the irony.
There were the webs of your stories that entangled him so to the point he just couldn’t associate you with the rest of your kind anymore, as much as he may want to. But as a result, there were new webs. By weaving your stories that so easily enthralled the Jester’s mind, you had unfortunately enticed him to build a bigger, stronger web of his own, one to ensnare the pretty little pen wielder who could capture his attention like no other. Foolish little butterfly… you should struggle while you still have the chance~
Woahhhhhhhh TTaYS chapter 3 mini sneak peek be upon ye ooooooooooo
You’d returned home shortly after the Jester had departed. You were excited to go back to the circus tonight, especially with this rather unique looking purple ticket. Due to your observations while using the circus as a muse last night, you’d noticed a lot of tiny details you never would have seen otherwise. Among those details were the colors of the tickets people held. Most, like yours that night, had been yellow. A few had been black, which seemed to allow access to the black tent that you and the other yellow ticket holders had been restricted from. You assumed black tickets were VIP, though you had noticed they weren’t available for sale and all its holders had been very well covered up… Aside from those two, you believed you’d only seen one other ticket color, this being red. You were also now realizing that its holder looked very similar to the barista who had served you and Jester… Huh. Perhaps that’s how he knew them.
But you had not once seen a purple ticket, aside from your own.
