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《TFC CAST》

☆Once again it's 3 in the morning and I've yet to get an ounce of sleep. Not cuz im working or anything it's just my fucked up sleep schedule. So here you go, another one of these things where i share my thoughts for shits n giggles bc im obsessed with these clowns.

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Pierrot hums a lullaby in his room when he feels lonely. I like to think that columbina used to do this for him before her death, and he continues to seek the melody's now bitter comfort whenever he finds himself feeling lonely and mc isn't around.

Harlequin stops to pet cats on the streets sometimes, although only when he's certain nobody is watching. Due to the night being the calmest time to be on the streets, i think he'd pet them on his night strolls. The cats would either love or hate him, no in between lmao he's either getting scratched or climbed and purred on.

Doctor sometimes sketches things; people, other members, his medical stuff, the fools... Anything that catches his eye in that moment. His drawings started off looking clumsy and inexperienced but in time they got better. Also he sometimes uses his latest victim's blood to draw.

Ticket Taker fixes his suit when he's nervous. He likes order and cleanliness, he also has a personality on the quieter, more reserved and serious side compared to pierrot or harlequin. However, nervousness is like a small stain that refuses to be washed away, and Ticket Taker won't accept that. He fixes his clothes, his hair, his hat etc wherever he can reach to fix when he's getting nervous because he believes it'll help him calm down if he plays the part and looks like he is.

《TFC CAST》

☆Hey, this is my first time trying smth like this, so if you have tips on how to make my posts better, pls tell me, be it writing-wise or visually. I tried to make it as in character as possible when thinking about how they'd sleep, also this turned out more like before mc got involved with the circus. Enjoy.

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PIERROT sleeps curled up like a child and probably hugging an old plush toy, made in the shape of the columbina he remembers. I imagine he sometimes cries himself to sleep when he remembers columbina, the things he wanted to say during the day but couldn't, the desperate moments he needed words but never received their help... And since it becomes significantly harder to express oneself without the help of words he usually keeps them bottled up to some extent, only letting them out in the comfort of his bed. Sweet lil baby i will bite him istg

HARLEQUIN has a hard time sleeping, often wandering around at night before he can fall asleep. I like to think he uses the solitude and secrecy the nighttime provides to reflect, although it rarely shows the next day. Sometimes when he's having a particularly bad night, i think he'd visit Ticket Tacker's tent and pour everything he couldn't solve by himself out. I talked about this before in one of my posts, i imagine that TT is like a father figure for harlequin. He shows the messes made by his heart clashing against his mind, and TT offers comfort and solutions, in his own way.

JESTER's sleep is.. stiff? His posture is like a mummy from ancient egypt and his sleep is quite light— he wakes up at the slightest of sounds. This is because in the past he didn't feel safe enough to fall into deep slumbers i wouldn't either tbh, and the habit stuck later on. Sometimes when he gets nightmares of that "moonless night," he avoid s sleeping on purpose and buries himself in his work until ticket taker notices and helps him relax enough to rest.

TICKET TAKER sleeps uhh.. properly? I think he'd be the only one who properly gets ready before bed and sleeps relatively well. Since he likes order and cleanliness, i imagine he has a night routine to relax before bed and prepare his body/mind to rest. Of course he also has restless night sometimes but he makes active effort to not let his mind spiral down into the bad memories.

The first time he realized he loved me.

I don't even remember what we were talking about, but the way he said this one sentence will forever stick with me.

The joy on his face, in his eyes, the way he looked at me like i suddenly became the one and only world he has ever known...

I love that about him.

The innocence and playful demeanor he has is quite charming. Makes me want to hold him and hide him inside my ribcage next to my heart so no one makes him sad. I want to smother him with kisses, leave bite marks all over his neck, his shoulders, his chest, wherever he lets me leave them. Want to hug him so tight my hesrt matches his when beating. To make sure he never forgets me even if I leave my flesh before him.

I want him to remember my scent. My perfume, my colors, my shapes, my tastes, anything he can remember about me. I want him to remember how my lips molded against his; the clumsy, shameless afection shared between lovers without a care in the world as if death will never cling to them.

I want him to remember

that it is not just my flesh he loves.

.

He shows it to me, intentionally or unintentionally, that he doesn't carry lust in his heart solely for my body. Rather, his heart surrendered to my soul before it found the courage to lust after my body. He fell in love with me first, then came my flesh.

.

I desire him carnally sometimes. I need to bite into him, to taste his blood and tell him he's beautiful.

But there's another side to my love for him.

A gentler, kinder side.

It's the one i show him mostly, because the other will scare him away. The other side of my adoration is borderline obsessive, a little cruel even, perhaps. The gentle side of my love is soft, tender; like he might break if I'm not careful. It's sweet— sticky but not overbearing, he has power over it which I believe he does not realize.

The other one, not so much.

Even I myself don't have much power over it if I'm being honest. It comes in waves, makes me crave everything he has allowed me to taste and dare crave more: his love, his lips, his affection, his silly humor, his vulnerability...

Oh, his vulnerability....

He has a frail heart, innocent and sweet. He lets me hold it in the palm of my hands, a beautiful gift from him. One that i cherish greatly. I feel all my anger at the world vanishing when i catch the sight of his heart in my hands.

I sometimes want to kiss it, let him feel my breath and see how much he means to me.

And other times, I want to sink my teeth into it amd leave holes in it in the shape of my teeth— a reminder for him. A reminder that his heart was caught once and I'm never letting go of it until death pries it out of my grip. Death may attempt to separate him from me, I shan't allow it. He means more than he could ever know to me and I refuse to let anything hurt him.

To express the mixture of emotions i feel watching his tears is to watch your heavenly world become a living hell tailored specifically for you.

Falling in love is messy work.

It's colorful, exciting, euphoric, scary. It stains whoever is involved. It doesn't come off.

People who fall in love forever carry pieces of each other because the stain of shared love doesn't come off.

(He raises an eyebrow)

“What?”

“…bro… that was one of her nicknames.. you should probably run…”

(Ticket Taker genuinely looks murderous, claws extended)

“…run. You might live then…”

(Ticket Taker slashes just centimetres from your neck)

(He raises an eyebrow)

“What?”

“…bro… that was one of her nicknames.. you should probably run…”

(Ticket Taker genuinely looks murderous, claws extended)

(He raises an eyebrow)

“What?”