Call me Vi(ФωФ)

[vivilaviva]

Navigation post!

A flash of consciousness.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/81033876/chapters/212929366

Alice in Wonderland!The freak circus x Alice!Reader.

Pierrot, Harlequin.

Headcanon.

How do their kisses feel? What are they like?

Their hair.

[vivilaviva]

Oh, I finished it. It's a shame I delayed the fifth part so much, but I had my reasons. Enjoy reading!

A flash of consciousness.

TFC x Fem!Reader.

Part Five.

Harlequin once again in the last few hours put the handkerchief soaked with dried blood to his face, and took a deep deep breath. His sensitive sense of smell was once again blessed with this incredible aroma, from which his mind succumbed to a soft relaxing fog, and his body turned into a soft puddle of jelly. He was not at all embarrassed by his current state, in fact, he gladly succumbed to it. He was still in control of himself, he knew that he was in control, but... how pleasant this feeling was.

He liked how light he felt, as if all the worries in his life had disappeared. As if someone's gentle hands had caressed his mutilated body, given his exhausted, mind a much-needed respite.

For several hours he had been watching the Doctor do his work, casting spells over the woman's body. Previously, he had taken her blood, placed it in small beakers, some of which he had mixed with some unknown drugs.

He examined every inch of skin, felt the bones and muscles. It seemed as if he paid a lot of attention to the thoracic region of the back, in the area of ​​the shoulder blades, and the throat. Perhaps he had found something interesting. Each result he found was recorded in a new, freshly made patient chart.

Now the Doctor decided to poke around in her mind a little. Very delicate work, which would strengthen such an old and powerful creature as he, through all the knowledge gained during his lifetime. The Doctor, hunched over the human body, placed his clawed hands on her head, delicately touching the skin with his claws. They barely noticeable emitted an eerie dark glow, and the fingers moved gently, millimeter by millimeter, as if on thick tar. Gradually, they sank deeper and deeper into the patient's head, until the Doctor froze for several minutes.

Harlequin blinked lazily, his forked tongue slid between his lips, as if babbling to taste the intoxicating aroma of blood. Then he slowly slid down from the place where he was sitting, and staggered towards the patient. His knees touched the floor with a soft thud when he lowered himself near the couch, and leaned on it with his elbows, supporting his head with his palms. At first he simply watched her sleep. How her chest rose and fell in calm breathing under the thin sheet, how her long fluffy eyelashes periodically trembled. Sometimes the Doctor's fingers in the lady's head disturbed the beautiful integrity of her face, causing Harlequin to frown briefly and hiss quietly in annoyance. He didn't like it when someone else touched something that had already caught his attention.

So to compensate for this, he grabbed a few strands of her hair with his fingers, squeezing them gently. Harlequin rolled the strands between his phalanges, rubbed them with his fingertips, and periodically combed them with his sharp claws. Somewhere deep inside him, a desire arose to cut off a piece. The thought of such a small, precious souvenir caressed something deep in his heart, making him want to keep a piece of the stranger next to him forever.

Tempting. His gaze caught every slight exhalation she made, a slight tremor and the steady beating of her heart in her chest. It seemed to him that he heard the blood flowing through her veins singing him lullabies, beckoning and drawing him towards itself, as if something was trying to seduce him.

It was fascinating. He wanted to sit like this for a very, very long time.

But the Doctor's session was over. His powerful figure stretched out to its full height, casting a shadow on the sly jester. He wiped his hands with a rag, peering intently into Harlequin's face. The giant stretched out his palm to his face, but only managed to catch the air with his claws. The nimble little fellow quickly got up, and found himself a few steps from the exit, stretching a sharp, almost displeased smile on his face.

- Thank you for letting me stay, doctor. – he bowed theatrically, uttering these words, and quietly disappeared, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He disappeared so quickly, even suddenly and in a hurry, that he did not notice how the Doctor was thoughtfully looking at the place where he had been a second ago, still stretching his hand forward. Or how predatory the tilt of his head was, as if a predator had found new prey.

And the Doctor had found a new patient.

***

The Doctor was stunned by the discovery he had made while examining the new creature in their lives. And he was simply incredibly intrigued by the reaction of his younger companion. And already a bunch of theories were being born in his head about the reasons for his behavior.

And one very much fit into everything he had collected.

Without haste, without showing any signs of fatigue from the tedious study he had conducted on their guest, the Doctor pulled up a chair to himself, and with a heavy, noisy exhalation he sank down.

It was almost unprecedented. Almost. Cases like this woman's are quite common these days, but the vast majority of creatures simply die peacefully, having lived a boring and short human life, without even trying to find out who they are. They cruelly ignore their strange habits, sometimes trying to suppress them, get rid of them, or even control something that, in his opinion, would be worth giving in to.

And this takes a terrible toll on their very essence, even if it is sleeping in a deep, forced dream. The man propped his head on a clenched fist, crossed his legs, and peered through the mask at the creature that had almost just woken up. The woman would be confused when she woke up. What can I say, she would be shocked, if not terrified. And she would be forced to stay here, with them, to survive. Because from now on, her life would never be the same.

You simply can't find other creatures of her kind, they hide very well, having an incredible ability to disguise themselves as people. Moreover, there are few purebreds left, they are almost extinct, if you rely on his specific observations. But to clarify, later, he would ask Bill.

But what would the Jester say? He would most likely not be delighted.

And Harlequin... Oh, Harlequin.

This time the Doctor felt a small glimmer of fatigue mixed with gaiety. It would clearly be funny. Watching the young jester try to understand, or even deny and correct what was going to happen to him.

Or was already happening, judging by everything the Doctor had seen in the past few hours. Even though he was completely absorbed in his patient, he could still see how Harlequin was behaving.

Almost like Pierrot recently.

It's a shame that a young monster like him doesn't believe in the singing of kindred blood.

Illustration was found on Pinterest.

[vivilaviva]

Oh, I finished it. It's a shame I delayed the fifth part so much, but I had my reasons. Enjoy reading!

A flash of consciousness.

TFC x Fem!Reader.

Part Five.

Harlequin once again in the last few hours put the handkerchief soaked with dried blood to his face, and took a deep deep breath. His sensitive sense of smell was once again blessed with this incredible aroma, from which his mind succumbed to a soft relaxing fog, and his body turned into a soft puddle of jelly. He was not at all embarrassed by his current state, in fact, he gladly succumbed to it. He was still in control of himself, he knew that he was in control, but... how pleasant this feeling was.

He liked how light he felt, as if all the worries in his life had disappeared. As if someone's gentle hands had caressed his mutilated body, given his exhausted, mind a much-needed respite.

For several hours he had been watching the Doctor do his work, casting spells over the woman's body. Previously, he had taken her blood, placed it in small beakers, some of which he had mixed with some unknown drugs.

He examined every inch of skin, felt the bones and muscles. It seemed as if he paid a lot of attention to the thoracic region of the back, in the area of ​​the shoulder blades, and the throat. Perhaps he had found something interesting. Each result he found was recorded in a new, freshly made patient chart.

Now the Doctor decided to poke around in her mind a little. Very delicate work, which would strengthen such an old and powerful creature as he, through all the knowledge gained during his lifetime. The Doctor, hunched over the human body, placed his clawed hands on her head, delicately touching the skin with his claws. They barely noticeable emitted an eerie dark glow, and the fingers moved gently, millimeter by millimeter, as if on thick tar. Gradually, they sank deeper and deeper into the patient's head, until the Doctor froze for several minutes.

Harlequin blinked lazily, his forked tongue slid between his lips, as if babbling to taste the intoxicating aroma of blood. Then he slowly slid down from the place where he was sitting, and staggered towards the patient. His knees touched the floor with a soft thud when he lowered himself near the couch, and leaned on it with his elbows, supporting his head with his palms. At first he simply watched her sleep. How her chest rose and fell in calm breathing under the thin sheet, how her long fluffy eyelashes periodically trembled. Sometimes the Doctor's fingers in the lady's head disturbed the beautiful integrity of her face, causing Harlequin to frown briefly and hiss quietly in annoyance. He didn't like it when someone else touched something that had already caught his attention.

So to compensate for this, he grabbed a few strands of her hair with his fingers, squeezing them gently. Harlequin rolled the strands between his phalanges, rubbed them with his fingertips, and periodically combed them with his sharp claws. Somewhere deep inside him, a desire arose to cut off a piece. The thought of such a small, precious souvenir caressed something deep in his heart, making him want to keep a piece of the stranger next to him forever.

Tempting. His gaze caught every slight exhalation she made, a slight tremor and the steady beating of her heart in her chest. It seemed to him that he heard the blood flowing through her veins singing him lullabies, beckoning and drawing him towards itself, as if something was trying to seduce him.

It was fascinating. He wanted to sit like this for a very, very long time.

But the Doctor's session was over. His powerful figure stretched out to its full height, casting a shadow on the sly jester. He wiped his hands with a rag, peering intently into Harlequin's face. The giant stretched out his palm to his face, but only managed to catch the air with his claws. The nimble little fellow quickly got up, and found himself a few steps from the exit, stretching a sharp, almost displeased smile on his face.

- Thank you for letting me stay, doctor. – he bowed theatrically, uttering these words, and quietly disappeared, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He disappeared so quickly, even suddenly and in a hurry, that he did not notice how the Doctor was thoughtfully looking at the place where he had been a second ago, still stretching his hand forward. Or how predatory the tilt of his head was, as if a predator had found new prey.

And the Doctor had found a new patient.

***

The Doctor was stunned by the discovery he had made while examining the new creature in their lives. And he was simply incredibly intrigued by the reaction of his younger companion. And already a bunch of theories were being born in his head about the reasons for his behavior.

And one very much fit into everything he had collected.

Without haste, without showing any signs of fatigue from the tedious study he had conducted on their guest, the Doctor pulled up a chair to himself, and with a heavy, noisy exhalation he sank down.

It was almost unprecedented. Almost. Cases like this woman's are quite common these days, but the vast majority of creatures simply die peacefully, having lived a boring and short human life, without even trying to find out who they are. They cruelly ignore their strange habits, sometimes trying to suppress them, get rid of them, or even control something that, in his opinion, would be worth giving in to.

And this takes a terrible toll on their very essence, even if it is sleeping in a deep, forced dream. The man propped his head on a clenched fist, crossed his legs, and peered through the mask at the creature that had almost just woken up. The woman would be confused when she woke up. What can I say, she would be shocked, if not terrified. And she would be forced to stay here, with them, to survive. Because from now on, her life would never be the same.

You simply can't find other creatures of her kind, they hide very well, having an incredible ability to disguise themselves as people. Moreover, there are few purebreds left, they are almost extinct, if you rely on his specific observations. But to clarify, later, he would ask Bill.

But what would the Jester say? He would most likely not be delighted.

And Harlequin... Oh, Harlequin.

This time the Doctor felt a small glimmer of fatigue mixed with gaiety. It would clearly be funny. Watching the young jester try to understand, or even deny and correct what was going to happen to him.

Or was already happening, judging by everything the Doctor had seen in the past few hours. Even though he was completely absorbed in his patient, he could still see how Harlequin was behaving.

Almost like Pierrot recently.

It's a shame that a young monster like him doesn't believe in the singing of kindred blood.

Illustration was found on Pinterest.

[vivilaviva]

Well, I've had too much stress in my life lately, but I'm getting back on track. I even made this!

This is how I see Pierrot from my post. White rabbit!Pierrot

Of course, I imagined the clothes differently for a while, but I was drawing late at night to relax after work, so I didn't get hung up on anything more difficult.

[vivilaviva]

A flash of consciousness.

TFC x Fem!Reader

Part Four.

Jester was confused. In his memory, such a thing was extremely rare, you can count similar cases on the fingers of one hand. But this...

He doesn't know yet what emotions he feels about this. Delight? Annoyance? Curiosity? Could it be some disgusting mixture of all of these?

Disgusting.

The woman in front of him did not succumb to his hypnosis. At least, not completely, judging by how sharply blood gushed from her nose. He froze in surprise, watching as the dark red liquid stained her lips, cheeks, his hand, which had still been squeezing her fragile cheeks, and dripped onto the white collar of his shirt. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, feeling the slightly warm, sweet-smelling, so tempting blood flowing through his fingers, even though it was partially absorbed by the thin material of his gloves. The corner of his mouth twitched in flashes of irritated fatigue, he exhaled heavily.

– Doctor, deal with her. And took her off the list. – he said dully, turning to face his colleagues. The eternal sly smile had already left his mask, replacing it with a slightly sullen expression. The doctor nodded, already taking out a list of the fools they had taken in this city, and at the same time making plans for a woman in his head. He leisurely searched for a small dossier with a corresponding photograph opposite, almost lazily flipping through the pages of a small folder.

Jester left the blue tent with a quick step, the curtains closing behind him with a soft clap.

Harlequin stood at the workbench with tools, leaning his elbows on the surface and propping his head on his hands, curiously contemplating the spectacle before him. His head tilted back in thought, his curls swayed playfully, and the bells tinkled faintly. His gaze kept returning to the unconscious woman, whose blood had further stained her clothes, already spreading over her entire torso.

Barely perceptibly, her fingers twitched, and the jester hummed in smug and surprised manner. With the elegance of a wild cat, he approached the unconscious body, and with a quick movement removed one of the bells hanging from his hat. He raised it to the man's ear, and shook it lightly.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and Harlequin thought with disappointment that he had dreamed. But, the fingers twitched again, and the head tilted slightly closer to the bell. The smile etched on his mask widened.

Interesting. Very interesting.

– Harlequin, what are you doing? – the Doctor hummed in a terribly curious tone, approaching the green clown from behind. He towered over him like a rock, casting a shadow from the weak light of the lamp.

Harlequin turned his head in the direction of the man with a quiet crunch, without moving his body an inch.

– Oh, nothing at all! I'm just trying to stop the bleeding. We don't want her to die, do we? – the clown said sweetly, smiling his usual, everyday smile. The hand that had previously held the bell now holds a clean white handkerchief, which the man pressed tightly to your nose.

The Doctor merely cocked his head to the side, placing a clenched fist at the tip of his mask's beak. Harlequin was a very observant monster, perhaps he had noticed something while the Doctor was distracted by his papers.

Yes, that seems true

The doctor was old. In his entire life he had seen a lot, met different monsters and people, observed many interesting events.

It would seem that what could arouse such a strong curiosity in him today?

It's you. An unknown, until today woman, who at first glance was an absolutely ordinary person. Everything in your body just shouted "I am a person!", your smell, your reactions, the way your organism functions. Nothing indicated strong mental resilience, you looked weak, at the first meeting with Bill you were depressed, tired, sickly pale.

A mentally and spiritually exhausted creature who could get rid of his suffering in their circus, forget about all his worries, and never think about them again. This would be the highest blessing for you, a gift from them. They will save you from the tiring routine, give you such a desired peace in eternity.

But here he is. Preparing the appropriate instruments for research and experiments.

The Doctor glanced for a second at Harlequin, who was still holding a handkerchief near the human nose with one hand and pressing a small cold compress with the other. The green clown smiled suspiciously with satisfaction. His mouth moved slightly, as if he were whispering something to the unconscious body, and his shoulders periodically twitched with light laughter. The only conclusion the Doctor could draw was that the little snake had found something, and was not yet very eager to share its discovery.

But let it be.

He would have enough time to reach the same conclusion.

– Harlequin. Do you want to stay and help me? – he carefully pulled new gloves on his hands. His sensitive nose had already habitually caught the faint scent of plastic.

– I would prefer to stay, actually. I am interested in observing this. – he reached out in a carefree singing tone, gently removing the blood-soaked handkerchief from the woman's nose. The compress was also thrown aside, he briefly shook the feeling of cold from his fingers, and then, raised the stained cloth to his face. Harlequin took a deep breath, for a brief moment his eyes rolled back, and a quiet, sweet whimper escaped from his throat.

– ....I hope you won't rush to eat it while I'm working. – after a moment of silence, the Doctor watched the strangely.... open and intoxicating behavior of his colleague. It was unusual. Unnatural for him and his usual behavior. Unfortunately, Harlequin didn't answer, he just shook his head and slowly got up, with a light, slightly unsteady gait he moved a little further into the shadows, and sat down on the empty table, crossing his legs. The best angle for observation opened up to his eyes.

He continued to hum something. His voice filled the space with a quiet echo, settling unobtrusively on the periphery of hearing. It braided the air with a thin cobweb, settled on the tongue like a sweet candy, and seemed to make the space more conducive to easy work.

The old doctor lowered his shoulders wearily, shook his head, and decided not to dwell on it for now. The clown's strange behavior could be dealt with a little later, when he had finished poking around in the brains of his new test subject.

The woman was delicately lifted and transferred to a prepared couch. Her body involuntarily yielded to every manipulation, gently bending in the right places so that it was easier to remove her clothes. First, a dirty vest flew off, followed by a thin starched shirt, a thin openwork bodice made of soft synthetic fabric. Then the patent leather shoes were removed, the semi-transparent stockings were gently pulled off her long legs, and then the full skirt was quickly removed. Only when the thin panties were left, the wrists and ankles were tightly bound with leather cuffs, and the body was covered with a thin sheet, did the Doctor take up the scalpel.

The illustration was found on Pinterest.

I'm wondering if you have any guesses as to what the doctor might find?

[vivilaviva]

Okay. Lately, juggling all the things in my life, writing fanfics, and studying, I've been particularly in the mood to draw this. This is a little sketch of Harlequin for my... mini fanfic.

Cheshire cat!Harlequin x Alice!Reader

Did I make that too obvious? I hope not.

[vivilaviva]

A flash of consciousness.

Part Three.

TFC x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Panic Attack, References to Dismemberment, Blood, Hypnosis.

In a way, you were very glad to be able to sit down, even though the chair wasn't very comfortable. But the circumstances under which you did it.... evoke a mixture of horror and nervousness. Especially when your hands were tightly bound to the same chair with leather cuffs. Or when there was just a huge man in a plague doctor's mask standing in front of you, holding a syringe in his bloody hands, with a very suspicious filling. And behind him was that clown in green.

Yes, it's hard to imagine a worse situation yet.

- So you're saying that this Fool... is free? - the "doctor" slowly stretched out his free hand and removed the mask from your face. He moved slowly, deliberately, the weight of his gaze literally almost pressed you to the spot. It felt like you were being dissected. The mask was delicately set aside, on the table with surgical instruments, like the syringe, having previously closed the needle with a cap. His large red-gloved hands almost gently lifted your face up, barely squeezing your cheeks with cold fingers. The tips of his claws lightly pricked the delicate skin of your face, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end. The doctor studied your face for a long time, barely moving, unlike his... colleague. The green clown kept walking from one side to the other, curiously peering into your face, constantly smiling.

– Yes! Just listen to how her heart beats... as if it was about to jump out of her chest. – he laughed briefly, as if he had heard a very funny joke. Under your gaze, his neck bent at a sharp and unnatural angle to his shoulder, crunching unpleasantly and eerily. Only from this spectacle did a milky disk cover your eyes for a moment, but it quickly passed, returning you to reality.

You, unfortunately, did not laugh. Your hands were shaking, your fingers were cold, and a tight ball of panic was gradually forming in your chest, making it difficult to breathe. It hurt, your back was covered in cold and slippery sweat, your skin seemed to be covered with a crust of invisible ice. Your clothes were unpleasantly clinging to your body, creating a feeling of tight bonds that were gradually tightening tighter and tighter.

The watchful gaze of the terrible doctor could not help but catch how the color of your face instantly disappeared, the pupils in your large, shiny eyes from returning tears widened, how shallow your breathing became. And Harlequin was right. Your heart rate became faster, unstable. For creatures like them, your heartbeats were loud and clear, they made the blood in their veins pound with the desire to tear your chest, break your fragile ribs, make the thick red blood from your body pour all over the floor and their claws that would hold your hot and tender heart.

The doctor swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth at such... appetizing thoughts. He forced himself to concentrate, to look again at your glassy eyes with horror. He thoughtfully ran his claw along your temple, stopping dangerously close at the corner of the eye.

– You are right. But nothing like that, you just need to subject her to the Jester's hypnosis again. – the Doctor reported hoarsely, finally letting go of your cold face. The underpants fell helplessly onto your chest, and your whole body suddenly relaxed, as if it had become a rag doll. But the mind worked non-stop, all thoughts were in chaos.

"Madness? Hypnosis? This is all unreal. Unreal! Just a stupid, stupid and terrible dream!"

The noise in your ears gradually became louder, almost like a story covering the chatter of these creepy... creatures. It was scary, so scary! Could these really be your last days of life? Is this all you lived for? To be a helpless doll, a slave, who would most likely be killed later? Despair rolled into your consciousness in waves, shaking your nerves and forcing you to almost gasp, the air was almost not getting into your lungs.

You tried to breathe. You really tried. But something was preventing you. Was it a lump in your throat, or hysteria. Maybe this was all... this was the end? The end of being?

Warm, thin fingers with undisguised disgust painfully squeezed her tear-soaked cheeks, ruthlessly scratching them with their long, thick claws, and lifting her face up. The gaze of the person before him was unfocused, broken by despair, fear for her life, and a barely noticeable glimpse of either resignation to her fate or a struggle for further existence. Unfortunately, it was still difficult for the Jester to tell where the almost completely shattered consciousness of this worthless human woman was leaning.

He was only interested in one thing: how had she managed to escape from under his power? Judging by the consequences, it was not a delicate job, no. It was rough, as if a wounded animal had used its last strength to gnaw its way out of a trap set by a hunter. It was amazing that she was still alive and breathing, and not lying dead, with her brains leaking out of her ears.

Reluctantly, in the depths of his mutilated and cold soul, he admitted with dark joy: it was exceptional.

– Look at me, my dear. – in a gentle, as if beloved, voice, he said, without blinking looking into your tear-stained eyes. With the last of your strength, panting, you looked into the face of the man whose voice gradually lulled you.

But despite all the, reluctantly acknowledged, exceptionality of the person before him, he could not let her go, not now. His eyes narrowed, and his lips stretched in a foxy smile.

Only the last few tears rolled down your cheeks alone, falling gently on the fabric of his gloves.

The illustration was found on Pinterest.

[vivilaviva]

Finally! The first sketches of their faces that I like(^з^)-☆

[vivilaviva]

𝕬 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊, 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒.

Today you had another dream. Strange. Almost the same as the previous one. But, unlike it, you didn’t fall into a rabbit hole there, but you didn’t catch up with anyone. You were sitting quietly, tiredly under a large tree, with strangely twisted purple leaves. A pleasant, barely perceptible aroma of sweet flowers, unfamiliar to you, hung around. But surprisingly, it didn’t annoy, on the contrary, it made you relax. The grass under you was soft, like a feather bed, you wanted not only to sit on it, but also to lie down, maybe fall asleep....

...And never wake up again.

The bark of the tree you were leaning on, as if taking you into its embrace, bent gently, and didn’t feel hard and textured at all. Your eyes were getting heavier and heavier, and the thought crossed your mind about how strange it would be to fall asleep in your own dream. But it was hard to resist the sweet aroma that gradually intoxicated your mind. The wind gently played with the leaves of the surrounding trees, they quietly whispered their lullaby, along with the thin chirping of the local birds, forcing you to completely immerse yourself in such a sweet, such an attractive dream....

How gently you were disturbed here. Something soft and fluffy tickled the tip of your nose. At first you tried to do something about it, languidly waving your palm and turning your head to the other side. But this unknown fluffy object constantly followed you, and in the end, you were forced to wake up. Slowly opening your eyes, blurred by the milky haze of sleep, and rubbing them a little with your fingers, you were finally able to see the fluffy intruder in front of your nose.

At first, your first thought was that it was a spider, and you were really ready to scream in fright. Your heart jumped loudly in your throat for a moment! But, looking a little closer, it became clear that it was not a spider. It was a long, black tail. Gradually, as your gaze rose upwards, you noticed slender legs in high boots that lay on the lowest wide branch, green-black strange clothes with barely noticeable bells, clawed hands that playfully supported the head of a man with cat ears, smooth and black. The unknown man lay majestically on his stomach, his tail still gently curled near your face, playfully touching your cheeks, neck and chin. In a deep, gentle voice, he laughed softly, a wide, sharp-toothed smile spread across his pale face. But then, your mind began to cloud over again, everything around you blurring into an ephemeral green haze.

Then you realized that you were waking up again, but this time, for real.

And only the wide smile of the playful man remained deeply etched in your memory.

The illustration was found on Pinterest

[vivilaviva]

𝕬 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊, 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒.

You had a strange, strange dream. There you fall into a deep rabbit hole, trying to catch up with a white rabbit. He kept looking at his pocket watch, and then after a second, checked to see if you were still following him. If you strain your memory, now you understand that the rabbit did not look like a rabbit. At least not exactly. Instead of a small fluffy thing, in a jacket and hat, with soft white fur and long, slightly trembling ears, there was a tall man. He was smartly dressed in a red suit with gold cufflinks, he had a top hat with a bright red ribbon, and shiny black shoes with paw prints on the soles. The only thing that somehow gave him away as a rabbit was his long white ears on a stick and a fluffy tail. And he also had long white hair. Unfortunately, you can't remember his face, no matter how hard you try. But you clearly remember how his clawed hands gently squeezed yours. How his thumbs caressed each of your knuckles, how those same hands touched your face in passing to brush the hair from your forehead. This feeling still haunts you, as if it really happened.

But it was all just a dream. Sweet dream.

The illustration was found on Pinterest.

[vivilaviva]

A flash of consciousness.

TFC x Reader

Part two.

For the second time, you were awakened by the hum of people around you. Human figures blurred before your eyes, either walking past at different speeds or curiously peering into the tent behind you. You noticed that the tent was green. A bunch of different lanterns illuminated everything in the circus area, as far as your mask-limited vision could reach. But they also cast an alarming shadow that seemed to lie on the ground and in the corners like a thick, endless canvas, creating an ominous feeling that you were being watched.

Of course, this could just be paranoia, and your tired brain, which is having a little trouble processing all the information.

Or maybe not.

In addition to the visitors, there were also many people like you, dressed in pink, who, most likely, were not lucky enough to "wake up." Like pre-wound puppets, they clearly did their job, without showing an ounce of fatigue or any dissatisfaction.

Like a string, your body stood near one of the tents, your hands folded on the lush skirt of your costume, and your lips rehearsedly repeated the same words to people who were interested in... whatever was in that tent. Your mouth moved on its own, your voice did not obey you, and it was quite disconcerting.

But there is good news!

This time, your consciousness was able to come to its senses much faster, and with some pleasure, you felt how your shoulder hurt. It ached with a dull pain, and there must be a bruise there. Your legs tremble from standing in one place for a long time, your back feels stiff, almost wooden. Your hands begin to tremble slightly, and your breathing is erratic. In general, the state of your body wanted better, you felt simply terrible weakness, and it was a miracle that you remained standing in the same position. But this feeling gave a small hope that perhaps you could get out of here. Let it be with your last strength, you will try.

Of course, if hypnosis does not prevail over you again, and this will not be your last awakening.

That is why, while you can still control your body, while you can feel the environment, an attempt to escape now seems incredibly tempting. But as long as there are people who constantly visit attractions and performances, as long as there are others who constantly cast glances at you, it is difficult to realize it. Therefore, you steadfastly decide to wait, and continue to pretend to be a stupid doll.

The time you spent in one place dragged on like a candy bar. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the appearance of being cheerful and healthy, and each time you resisted the desire to simply fall to the ground and not move. The people were not getting fewer, on the contrary, it seemed that there were more and more of them. Now you could no longer feel your legs and arms, your headache was appearing. Now the escape plan seemed more and more distant and impossible, more like a dream, distant and unattainable.

For the third time in your entire waking life, you heard a small bell above your head, announcing the end of the performance. The reason for the pain in your muscles was the opening and closing of the curtains that were the entrance to the tent. At first glance, it seemed easy - the fabric was not heavy, but for such an exhausted body as yours, it turned out to be quite an energy-consuming task.

Slowly, people came out of the tent, discussing the performance, some with enthusiasm, some with displeasure. A few minutes later, the artist himself came out. You took your position on the sidelines again, with your hands folded on your skirts as usual. Gradually, a fog began to appear in your head, but now you no longer know why. You are again succumbing to an unknown force of control, or simply from exhaustion, which is increasingly clearly felt. From under your eyelashes, you looked at a tall man in an eccentric, bright clown costume with an ornament of hearts. He gracefully walked out of the tent, smiling broadly and toothily. Involuntarily, the question flashed through your head how a mask could convey emotions so clearly. He watched with a predatory gaze as people slowly walked towards the exit, hiding their hands behind their backs, and humming something. Something in the very presence of this man made your heart clench with fear. Was it a hidden threat in his posture? Is it possible, a vague shadow in the green eyes? Especially creepy, when those eyes look straight at you.

From a very, very close distance.

A drop of cold sweat ran down your back. It took a great deal of titanic effort to keep the crumbs of self-control in front of you.

“How strange…” he drew out the words in a voice sweet as honey. His gaze slowly scanned you, from the very top of your head to your heels, and finally stopped at chest level. Your hands barely twitched to close, and this movement alone was enough to capture his attention, and to feel cold horror.

The jester in green’s smile became even wider, the corners almost reaching the narrowed eyes. His hand gently moved behind your back and lay on your lower back. You felt sharp, long claws lightly press against your skin, pushing you forward. Your trembling legs felt like cotton wool, your knees ached and barely bent when you walked. But what could you do?

Nothing.

The illustration was found on Pinterest.

Thank you for reading! Have a nice day/night!

[vivilaviva]

A flash of consciousness.

TFC x Reader.

The viscous fog slowly left your consciousness. It was cloudy, viscous like tar, but reluctantly gave your thoughts freedom. In small grains your consciousness returned, gradually brightening perception. Tiredly you noticed that on your face was a mask with small holes for the eyes, your hair was pulled into a hairstyle at the back of your head and on your head was a hat with cold bells. They tinkled softly near your ear, as if reminding you of something. The autumn wind chilled your hands, making goosebumps run through your body, and your fingers squeeze the stack of paper tighter.

What? Paper?

Still in a slowed down state, as if after strong sedatives, you looked at your reddened hands in surprise. They were clutching a large stack of circus advertisements. Just from one thought of it, you felt your heart clench in fear, and anxiety grip your shoulders.

You don’t understand anything. What did you just do?

Your head dropped again for a moment from any thoughts, but in a second it exploded with pain. It was as if a tight hoop was squeezing your eyes and temples, giving the feeling that you were about to explode. Your frozen fingers twitched to massage the place of pain, but they never touched the skin. As if something stopped them. And then, with a gaze blurred by pain, you noticed people passing by. Some passed by indifferently, ignoring you, others glared unpleasantly, and whispered something to each other.

You were uncomfortable.

And in surprise, one unpleasant thought flashed, or rather, understanding, when you unwillingly approached several women and held out the ad. Words flew out of your mouth hoarsely, which were supposed to interest people and make them come to the circus to enjoy the scary shows and attractions. But the women only frowned, and quickly ran away without even looking at you again.

You have no control over yourself. Your body does not obey your will, as if it does not belong to you.

Your headache was growing, it was better to focus on understanding this terrible situation. Your body elastically and actively approached a man. He reluctantly raised his gaze, and only then did your lips begin to utter the memorized words, when the man’s hand painfully pushed you in the shoulder. You are sure that it hurt, but you did not feel the pain itself. With theatrical grace, your body took a few steps back, waving its arms senselessly, so that all the advertisements clumsily scattered across the street. The man spoke rudely, indignantly, pointed his finger at your chest, and at the same time actively gesticulated. Saliva flew from his mouth, it smeared your tight, absurdly bright pink suit, and cold mask. Your body stood helplessly, pretending to be a sad listener, while your mind gradually faded.

Hmmmm, I liked this idea when I was thinking about what to write. Maybe it will go further, and there will be a full-fledged fanfic.

The picture was found on Pinterest.

[vivilaviva]

Their hair.

Pierrot

He has long, blond hair, most likely porous and prone to frizz, and often unkempt. It is quite soft to the touch, the ends can be dry and a little split. I think he would do well with a "Long Wolf Cut", which you can skip, in his case it would always look good. Would he let you touch him and groom him? Absolutely.

Harlequin

His hair is black, curly, and short. I think it would be 2s or 2b. It's soft to the touch and shiny, and it also bounces off your fingers like little springs in a funny way. I think he takes care of it enough to keep it neat and tidy, maybe even has a habit of winding the longer strands around his finger. Would he let you take care of it? Maybe with a little hesitation, but yes.

Jester

His hair is straight, long, and shiny. He takes great care of it, has a lot of products, and is patient. It would feel like natural silk to the touch, smooth, cool, and incredibly soft, with a pleasant, light scent of after-shower products. Would he let you groom or touch it? Most likely not.

Ticket Taker

Short black hair, straight, not prone to frizz. I think he would take care of it the same way Harlequin does, just to keep it neat and presentable, and to keep him comfortable. It would be soft and smooth to the touch right after a shower, and a little stiff throughout the day. He styles it every morning with wax, gel, or hairspray, so washing it every night is a must. Would he let you take care of it? Maybe, yes.

Doctor.

Short red hair, stiff and straight. The only ritual in the morning is to comb it, and wash it with a product he might have made himself. It would feel a little dry to the touch, maybe even stiff.

Would he let you groom him? Yes. I think he would be interested in what would come of it.

The picture was found on Pinterest.

[vivilaviva]

How do their kisses feel? What are they like?

Pierrot

Intense and desperate. His kisses, like everything he does for you, are always full of passion and determination to prove how much he loves you. No matter where or how he kisses you, it will always be as if it is his last kiss. As if tomorrow never comes and he just needs to shower you with his love in the form of passionate kisses.

Harlequin

Careful and light. For some reason, it seems to me that he would kiss you like a porcelain doll. Fragile, afraid to touch her again for fear of breaking her. These kisses would be soft, short and full of cautious tenderness, as fragile as a dream before waking up. Most often it would be your forehead and the top of your head, because he likes to look into your eyes or study your face afterwards.

Ticket Taker

Long and warm. His kisses would be gentle, gentlemanly gentle. The kind that would show how much he cared for you. Most often, your fingers and wrists would suffer from the kisses, less often your temples. Usually, after a small act of tenderness, he would hold your palm in his, caressing the place of the kiss.

Jester

Cold and fleeting. I like to think that his kisses would feel like they were covered in a light frost. They would be quick, a little scattered, and would leave a cold sensation on your skin. But there would be a lot of them. Most often, where they would be felt, it would be your cheeks, because you always blush so sweetly.

illustration was found on Pinterest

[vivilaviva]

What gift would he give you on a first date? Just imagine, you fell in love with each other, then confessed, and then agreed on a first date. Headcanon.

Finn Ames.

He would bring a cute and small bouquet of flowers in a basket so that it would be convenient to carry it.

I am sure that there would also be a small surprise package that he would have made with his own hands. There would be butterflies on springs and a custard cake. (It took him and Masha many tries to make exactly the bento cake, not the cream puff)

Rain Ames.

He, like Finn, will bring flowers in a basket, but it will be a little bigger than Finn's.

I think that Rain would like to bake in peace, so the addition to the bouquet was a big and soft rabbit, which you would use as a pillow while you spent time together on your date.

Margarettе Macaron.

Even if he doesn't like sweets, I think he would bring some very nicely decorated candies with caramel and fruit, or cupcakes.

He gave you a composition at the first meeting. This composition would be a solo, just him and his piano, his lbbov to you and beautiful music.

[vivilaviva]

𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚.

Mash Burnedead.

Mash doesn't remember faces well. The only exceptions are those who helped him (even if it was a small thing). He doesn't call his enemies or people he doesn't like and who actively demonstrate it. Of course, there is an exception here.

We all know that no matter what he cooks, everything turns into cream cakes. So I'm thinking that if he ever has to cook up some dangerous potion or antidote, we'll still magically get a cake. But! It will have the necessary effects that, for example, healing potions would have.

This is more a fact than a headcanon, but with my addition. Mash knows how to stick to a schedule, so I think he would be somewhat of a perfectionist and quite punctual.

Finn Ames.

I'm sure that Finn knows etiquette very well. After he entered Easton High School, one of the first books he would pick up from the library would be an etiquette manual. He learned all aspects of it literally in a week, both women's etiquette and men's.

Finn speaks a literary language, that is, he blows elegantly. For some reason, I think that he would read many books of different genres, from light novels and comedies, to books with deep philosophy and science. And he is also an honors student in theory at Easton High and Middle Academy.

I am almost 100% sure that he would be a slightly soft aesthetic guy. His part of the room would be beautifully decorated, there would be many different trinkets, and above the bed there would be a small magical garland of stars, which he would turn on as a night light. Mash doesn't mind.

This is just a test. If you like my writing, I will continue this headcanon thread with other characters.