...the smell reminds you of a man you didn't know. didn't like. but on your last day, he pulls you aside, says goodbye, and congratulates you on leaving. he tells you things about yourself you didn't even realize other people noticed. he gives you the sign you'd been waiting for. you buy him a pine-scented candle before you go.
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an interest in harlequin is starting to influence you in the smallest ways. choosing green items over your usual preference for neutral colors, trying to figure out just what exactly tastes so good about black coffee to him, and you'll never admit the reason to yourself, but you've gathered books to start studying portuguese. you just hope he won't notice.
"baby, put your hands around my ribcage. i know you wanna see what's under."
tags & warnings: harlequin x gn!reader, fluff, mutual pining, references/allusions to reader sort of revering/worshipping harlequin, little suggestive, reader wears a necklace, lots of harlequin causing mc lighthearted psychological warfare, MDNI, mama hasn't written in a long time and she spent two days reworking and rewriting this so give her some grace and a ciggy please ( ;ยด๊ณ`;)
wc: 4.4k
when he called the color of that heart-shaped pin on your collar an โintoxicatingโ and โpoisonousโ green, you hadnโt taken it literally.
that was, until, you couldnโt get him out of your head.
when you woke in the morning, despite barely having a grasp on consciousness, the small, subliminal thoughts started: will i see him today? what will i say? and, unfortunately, a question that was starting to bother you more and more, how will i keep him interested?
you didnโt want to admit that you were liking the attention he was giving you, but that was the simplest way to put it.
it was poisoning you. time that used to be spent wondering about responsibilities and needs actually pertaining to you had now been overtaken by thoughts of him. you weren't even sure what you had done to catch his attention in the first place, but ever since, youโve desperately been trying to grasp onto whatever you can think of that makes you interesting to be around.
in your mind, that means whatever similarities you can imagine having in common with a six-foot masked creature; and you still hadn't managed to find a single one.
youโre embarrassed to notice the changes in yourselfโ it's reminiscent of a teenager experiencing an identity crisis and the biggest crush on a person theyโve barely held one conversation with all over again. anytime youโre out shopping, you find yourself gravitating towards green clothes and items over any other color you normally choose.
youโve been working as a barista for a while now, and while you enjoy coffee drinks just as much as the next person, you hadnโt put any real thought into the history and flavor profiles of different coffee blends since youโd been hired. but with harlequin visiting you almost everyday at work, you were trying to learn more about his interests and preferences. did he care about the tiniest hint of chocolate you were trying to gaslight yourself into tasting in the cold brew, or did he just like that it was bitter?
to anyone else, these were small changes, but they could never understand what was going on in your head; purchasing a gold necklace as someone whoโd stuck to silver jewelry their entire life, you realized you had never put this much effort into an interest in someone. and it didnโt feel like pretending to be someone you werenโt, or a phase that would only last a few weeksโ, you were actively trying to like black coffee because of harlequin. you drank it on days when he visited and on the days that he didnโt. you could say with confidence that you were slowly starting to enjoy the taste of it. your attraction to green and gold items felt innate rather than forced, and you didnโt think you looked terrible in the colors. maybe you had been a gold person all along, but you had never been confident enough to try it out until now.ย
but signing up for a library membership was what made you realize how serious this interest was getting. you hadn't attempted to learn another language since high school, but next thing you knew, you were scouring the shelves of the language section for beginner portuguese vocabulary books, all because harlequin had offered you a few dishes from his home country and whispered things you couldnโt understand and he refused to elaborate onโ you decided it was time to take it into your own hands.ย
the books were still waiting on your coffee table at home, untouched. you were nervous about where to start; was it best to start with introductions? but you faintly recalled starting with expressing your mood when you took a class in school. that was something youโd have to push onto future you.
all you could pray for was that harlequin wouldnโt notice, the way you noticed everything about him. from exactly how many strides it took him to make his way from the cafรฉ door to the stool he now claimed as "his spot." he chose that same stool every day, where heโd lean over the counter to grin in your face. even before he arrived, you would place a glass or plate in his spot to keep it unoccupied.
itโd been slow this morning, you didnโt see a point in putting anything out to save his spot. instead, you spent your time doodling on spare coffee sleeves, but you had already covered several of them while practicing round, symmetrical hearts. harlequin's costume had always interested you, from the detailing to what exactly kept his hat so puffed up all the time. you'd moved onto a rough sketch of harlequinโs hat, thinking it would be cute to draw some circus-themed sleeves. although your boss expected any circus fliers inside or on the windows to be torn down, you didn't see the harm in cute doodles.
youโve just finished shading one of the hearts black when a breath on your neck immediately has you whipping around out of reflex.
โmorning, little thing. no greeting today? what has you bent over the counter like this?~โ harlequin's choice of words only add to the growing sense of shame and fear you're feeling. while you technically hadn't done anything wrong, you weren't intending to get so fixated on your doodles that you tuned everything out. speaking of your drawings, what should you do? cover the sleeve first? throw it across the lobby and hope he doesnโt go looking for it? act like you werenโt drawing him at all?
too late.
his eyes have already slowly raked down from your face to the flimsy piece of cardboard your fingers are doing a half-assed job of covering. he lets out a small โohโ thatโs halfway between flattery and shock, and is it just you, or is it getting really hot in here?
something has been off about you for the past few weeks. when harlequin first met you on the streets, because he would be a fool not to remember everything about your first meeting, you had adorably refused to meet his eyes no matter how hard he tried. you had occupied yourself by fidgeting nervously with a silver necklace instead.ย
but now, you've worn only gold for the past week. there are green clips in your hair, whereas before, you stuck to black pins that were barely noticeable. that made the abrupt changes from black to neon all the more prominent, and when he sees your little doodle on the coffee sleeve, everything clicks.
oh.
is this what itโs like to be worshipped?
you've put so much effort into being a little more like him. youโve gone out of your way to wear his colors. youโre drawing him. you save a spot for him at your counter everyday, and youโre trying your best to learn even more about himโ which is adorable in itโs own right. you refuse to ask him anything about himself directly, you're always trying to figure it out on your own.
he's reached into every corner of your mind and embedded himself there, spreading his poison throughout your mind. the realization of his success makes something in his own head buzz, especially with the look on your face.
youโre terrified.
youโre not changing yourself for him. you know heโs already interested. youโre just hopelessly falling for him, and the closer you're orbiting to him, the more you're becoming like him. and now that heโs caught onto what you're doing, youโre terrified of what happens next.
heโs had humans infatuated with him before. like a lovesick pierrot, they obsess over him, stalk him, try to manipulate him, even though theyโre the one playing his game. it all ends the same, with their protests and justifications of โloveโ and admiration.
but you?
for you, it was pure reverence.ย
you admired him. respected him. your innocent eyes told him more about how you felt than you could ever articulate. he wagered that if he asked, you'd get on your knees for him.
and he only wants more of it. he wants more of you until he doesnโt have to come out and find you at home or at your job. he wants to take you back to his tent and keep you at his side forever. he wants you at every hour, every minute, every second of the day. maybe heโs the one obsessed, this time. but no, itโs more than just obsession. itโs not infatuation, either.ย
he might be on your mind, but youโve weaseled your way into his head, too. he canโt seem to stay away from you even if he tries.
youโre different from any human heโs ever met, and itโs only right that you belong to him. special goes with special. if you were bound to someone like pierrot, it would only be a waste. a shining star dimmed, tied down to a pole.
and he wants you to want him. wants to hear you say it, yourself.
โmy dear, whatโs this?โ his grin is wide, one slender finger pointing lazily to your drawing of him.ย
โnothing! itโs nothingโฆ oh, how do i explainโโ
โno need, dear one. you were thinking about me,โ he cuts you off before you could spiral, โitโs pretty obvious, you know. and iโm not talking about just your little drawing.โ
your mouth opens, and then closes again, silent. you desperately wish you had a mask like him, something to cover your face and take the edge off the intensity of his stare. it burns into you, and heโs waiting, ready for any meek response you give him, which he'll immediately shut down. and what is there left to say? he already knows everything. โiโฆโ
โhow cute, little one~โ he teases with a chuckle, the sound reverberates through your skull. you wish you could listen to his laugh forever. โitโs alright, my dear. your obsession with me is adorable. i love it.โ heโs so close to you, but you sober up the tiniest bit at the realization of where you both are. you lift a hand, stopping him in his tracks, your palm just barely brushing against his chest.
โharlequin,โ you hiss, but all he does is poke his forked tongue out. the sound of his name in your mouth is only exciting him more. โyouโre behind the counter, you need to sit down before my boss comes out. people are already staring,โ you whisper, ignoring the glint in his eyes, which is clearly telling you then letโs just walk out of here.
he obliges silently, only a small huff, and when he drops into one of the bar counter stools, you let out a sigh of relief. you can still feel the weight of a few customers staring at you, but at the very least, if your boss came out, harlequin wouldnโt be banned from the store and fire you. you mindlessly reach for a glass and a dry rag to polish a glass, preparing it for when he inevitably orders a coffee.
โwell?โ he starts, but doesnโt finish his question. he always talks like this, waiting for you to play along, or maybe he just likes to make you beg for it. you always obey, don't you?
โwell, what?โ you cock your head to the side in confusion.
โis there more?โ he continues, still refusing to give you context until the very end, โi bet youโre so in love with me you have more drawings of me at home, donโt you? may i come over and see?โ
just the idea of harlequin seeing your home has your heart in your throat. โwhat? no, i donโt have more drawings. this was justโฆโ you trail off, unsure of what excuse to give. oh, i donโt know, harlequin. you occupy every thought in my head and every single second of my day and every breath i breathe is dedicated to you, and the best i could do was try to draw you on a stupid sleeve that protects your hand from getting burned. nothing special. โdo you want something?โ you change the subject.
โdo you even have to ask?โ he fires back, and you roll your eyes, turning your back to him.
when you place his drink in front of him, heโs resting his head in the palm of his hand. you shift from one foot to the other, feeling trapped in his gaze. โwhen did you start wearing gold jewelry?โ heโs not looking for an answer to the question; he just wants to see your reaction. he already knows, after all.
you're fidgeting with the gold necklace in question as you spin up a lie on the spot, โoh, this? i always wear gold, wellโ not always- but i switch between gold and silver jewelry. you must have just never seen me wearing gold yetโฆ why? does it matter?โ
โit doesnโt,โ he shrugs, watching the way your fingers continuously roll the gold chain back and forth, โexcept for that itโs one of my colors. but i guess youโre right, i must have never noticed until now.โ he grins at the way you completely freeze up, your eyes widen a little more, and he truly does wish he could take it further. the amount of places he could just graze his fingers over that he knows would elicit this same reaction from you is running through his head, but he knows you wouldnโt let him. at least not here.
and youโre so frustrated because you know heโs teasing you, yet you still canโt help but give him every reaction and jump he wants. heโs like a predator, just playing with his food before he devours it.
"have you considered maybe not everything revolves around you?" his face doesn't change in the slightest despite your attempt to bite back.
"sure," he plays along, "but it's a little coincidental after i caught you drawing me, no?"
you bite your lip and his eyes follow your every movement, daring you to talk back. but you don't have an answer, and you're not sure why you even started this banter in the first place. but when you hear his laugh as you admit defeat, maybe your humiliation was worth the sound that makes your heart flutter.
when you look down at the coffee sleeve in question, you can't think of what to do. you're not ready to try to explain to him how you feel, but you don't want to pretend your feelings don't exist, either. a silence falls over the two of you, and it's calm, but out of character for harlequin.
โcan i come over tonight?" he sure has a way of ruining peaceful environments, doesn't he? the question is out of the blue, yet he says it casually, as if he regularly comes over to your apartment. which is certainly not the case.
โdonโt you have a performance tonight?โ you quirk a brow, defensively placing your hands on your sides.
he shrugs, โi can come after i preform. iโll start early and end early so i can come sooner. yes?โย
โno,โ you answer quickly. โare you even allowed to do that? wouldnโt people be upset if they missed your performance?โ
โif youโre not coming to see me, it doesnโt matter,โ he answers passively, swirling the coffee in his hand. you wish you could tell him not to say those kinds of things or else you'll really start to get delusional. โi can do what i want. iโll make up an excuse. so, iโll see you tonight?โ
โwhat if i come see to the circus tomorrow night instead?โ
โthen iโll see you tonight and tomorrow night, too. just more for me~โ his answers are childish at best, and heโs clearly not taking no for an answer. but before you can give him another response, heโs standing up, straightening his tunic. โwell, iโll see you tonight then, my dear,โ he grins, placing a bill and a wrapped candy on the counter.
the bell of the cafe door chimes with his exit, leaving you alone, back with the same lifeless coffee sleeves you began with.
and waitโ
where was the one with harlequinโs hat?
you search the pile of sleeves, scattering them everywhere and flipping them over.
โhe took it when i wasnโt looking! how annoying,โ you sigh to no one but yourself, rubbing your temple to try to alleviate some of the pressure in your head.
it wasn't from his teasing words, but rather the twinge of pain that came with being left alone again.
that he left, and you couldnโt follow.
you didnโt trust yourself to go to the circus tonight, worried about working early at the cafรฉ tomorrow. instead, you began your language studies. your coffee table was covered in books, all open and scattered around your journal in the center where you were jotting down notes.ย
you were certain you were near your breaking point. you were constantly losing your reading place, and now you seemed to have lost your pen. running a hand through your hair, you begin to clean up the mess of books scattered across the table, stacking them back into a neat pile for whenever you next decided to challenge yourself.ย
intent on returning your journal to your desk, you reach for the handle of your bedroom door when you hear a sound on the other side of it. you freeze, heart dropping to your stomach in fear. maybe something fell over? but it sounded a little like something had been dragged, which wasn't comforting to think about.
but if someone was inside your home, you needed to catch them in the act before they took something or hid somewhere.
the door creaks open, and you hold your breath, trying to survey your room. the sight of a green and gold figure catches your eyes, and a wave of relief and fear simultaneously wash over you.
โ...harlequin?โ you say his name hesitantly, and a little quietly, unsure if he heard you until he snaps around to meet your eyes.
youโre still standing in the doorway of your bedroom, yet the distance between you and the man in front of you does nothing to dull the intensity of his stare. it makes it worse that your lights are off; only the sharp shape of his green eyes, black slits completely focused on you, stand out, the rest of him barely visible. his gaze actually has you wanting to step back even further, feeling a little bit like a rabbit caught in the teeth of a fox. his mouth curls into a wide grin as he turns to fully face you. โgatinha, there you are,โ the tone of his voice sends chills throughout your body. all that studying tonight and you still have no idea what heโs said to you, you feel like a fool.
still, you take a few hesitant steps forward into your room, trying to regain your sense of composure. heโs the one in your house, you canโt be the one shying away. โhow did you get in here?โ you turn on the lights as you step into your room, and he barely reacts to the sudden change in brightness. if anything, his eyes seem to narrow down on you even more.
โyour sliding door,โ he answers simply, which seems to remind him to turn around and flip the lock on it.
you close your eyes for a brief second, trying to process the situation, โyouโ you canโt just come through my sliding door, harlequin. thatโs breaking and entering. and how did you even get up this high? my apartmentโs on the third levelโโ he hushes you, and when you open your eyes, heโs completely closed the distance between you two, causing you to squeak and step back reflexively.
โdoes that really matter?โ he scoffs, โi told you iโd see you tonight, didnโt i?โย
while heโs technically right, he also walked out before you could answer. you shake your head in a small attempt to avoid looking in his eyes. at this point, you're starting to accept your unexpected company for the night. you can't think of a single instance you've ever won an argument against this man, it's futile to even try.ย
and then the thought comes to you, what would you have said if he had given you the time to answer?
your mind is only making your heart beat faster, and you turn from harlequin, walking back to your living room to try to cool down. you can tell heโs trailing behind you from the second pair of footsteps you hear, almost silent, but still audible. you throw your notebook back onto the coffee table near the pile of books already on it and sit on the floor, trying to focus on calming yourself.
harlequinโs eyes follow your movements, but he stays standing for a beat longer before he sits as well. strangely enough, it feels the slightest bit domestic, this lanky man dressed in circus attire sitting cross-legged in your own home, silently staring at you with what seems to be curiosity rather than his usual playfulness that never lets up. he's looking at you as if you're a new species he's never seen, but truthfully, you're just in sweats.
but for him, this is an entirely new side of you he's seeing. watching through a window can only tell him so much. whenever you're in public settings, like the cafรฉ or circus, you treat the place with a certain level of respect, knowing that you don't own the place, you're just occupying the space. but in your loungewear, in your own home, there's a different air around you. you're more comfortable throwing things around, plopping down wherever you feel like, he wants you to treat him with that same kind of casual trust. he wants you to be rough, but in your own personal way that still retains the kindness he will never understand that you extend to everyone, including him, even if he doesn't deserve it.
harlequin seems to try to mimic your respectful demeanor as he observes the walls of your apartment, small decorations and personal items of yours littered about here and there. you didnโt expect that behavior or his silence to last long, and it ends when his eyes dart back to the books on your coffee table. โwhat are these?โ he asks.
your eyes widen a little, hands shooting out to try to turn the spines of the books away from his line of sight to hide the title of the books, โthat's nothing! iโve just been studyingโฆa language. i thought maybe it would help me connect to more people at the cafe. we have a lot of foreigners, you know.โ
โso youโre studying portuguese?โ he calls your bluff immediately and your throat seems to close up. โhah! donโt make me laugh, gatinha. portuguese is my language, you know that. why are you trying to lie to me?โ he inches the slightest bit closer to you, and your hands reach up to cover your face, unable to handle the weight of his stare anymore. โsweet thing, your devotion to me is adorable, donโt shy awayโ or i might just to pin you down.โ
you can barely handle how this domestic, quiet moment flipped completely upside down into something sexual, and covering your face has hidden you from his sight, but now you canโt see either, which is only heightening your other senses and it sounds like heโs getting closer.
โgatinha, do you know what iโm saying to you? answer me,โ he demands in a voice that makes you worried you did that's seriously offended him. your breath hitches as you try to recall reading any kind of term like that, but you come up blank, whether thatโs because you're short-circuiting or from your lack of knowledge, god only knows.
โnoโฆโ you answer quietly and he laughs loudly again, mockingly. he sounds like heโs a breath away from brushing your shoulder.ย
โsweet thing,โ he murmurs, the rasp in his voice making you shiver as you peek through some of your fingers to try to see him, โthese silly books arenโt teaching you anything. you donโt need them.โ you gasp when you see his arm swipes the stack of books off the table, sending them tumbling to the ground in a flutter of aged pages and worn spines.
you've removed your hands from your face, looking at the mess on the ground. โharlequin, i have to return thoseโฆโ you try to chide him, but your words fall on deaf ears, and suddenly, heโs in your face.
โwhy wouldnโt you just ask me to teach you?~โ his grin grows wide as you try to shrink back into the edge of your couch to no avail. โiโll teach you my language if you want, little thing. but in return, i want something.โ
heโs barely talking about teaching your portuguese anymore, you know that. youโve completely lost whatever game you two were playing. ever since that coffee sleeve at work earlier, heโs known everything.ย
tonight, all he had to do was catch the little mouse, and he caught you the moment youโd opened the bedroom door.
โ...what did you have in mind?โ you avert your eyes, trying to look anywhere but him, but itโs difficult to do when heโs basically on top of you at this point. heโs all you see, hear, and smellโ your head is spinning.
the chuckle that escapes his mouth makes you look back at him, and then youโre shamelessly watching the green tongue that pokes out of his mouth. he sounds pleased, like he knows youโve realized the situation, too. heโs caught his prey, now youโre his.
โto start, maybe a kiss,โ he hums, eyes looking down on you mercilessly, โthen, iโll mark you as mine. after that, iโll take your clothes. iโll decide from there whatโs next, or maybe you already know, dear one?~โ
you still avoid his eyes, but you give him a hesitant nod in agreement, and he chuckles, a gloved hand guiding your chin to look back up at him. "so good and obedient for me, aren't you?" he praises, and your lip trembles. then, heโs guiding your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. โi think iโll collect my payment first then~โ
โ star navigator - navigation tag
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แญเฝฒเผแฏเพ โโ Ink spun from my own fingertipsโplease donโt take, mirror, or rewrite it.
โ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐พ๐: So yeahโฆ You've been gone for months.
Not like forever. Just... away for a bit. You told them you needed space. Adult stuff. Life Stuff. Responsibilities that didn't involve a bunch of monsters. they respected it. well, tried to. pierrot left like seventeen tearful voicemails. But weeks turned into months. Texts stopped. Visits stopped. and somewhere along the way, you stopped explaining and just... vanished.
They've had enough and they will not leave until you are given the attention you deserve.
โ ๐๐ธ: 5.8k
โ ๐๐ถ๐๐: oneshot/s ยท tfc x gn! reader ยท hurt/comfort ยท fluff and angst ยท emotional hurt/comfort ยท burnout ยท depression ยท established relationship ยท post-avoidance.
Life has been... life-ing.ย
If that's even a word. (it's not.) Lately, these days, everything feels chaotic and unpredictable and just... too much.ย
You've been busy, like legitimately busy. Just dealing with things that required you to stay away from the circus for a while. you can't just live there like some monster who doesn't have real-world responsibilities.ย
You have a life. Or, you had one.
You switched from full-time to part-time at the coffee shop so you could focus on school. Exams got thrown at your face repeatedlyโirritating doesn't even begin to cover it. but now the exams are done. everything should be over.ย
You should be resting. Recovering from your busy lifestyle.
At least maybe even feeling good.
But every morning, you wake up and you just... don't move.
Youโre aware of it, vaguely. The way your body feels heavy, like someone filled your bones with wet sand while you were sleeping. the way your phone is always in your hand before you've even decided to pick it up. the way hours pass and you've done nothing but scroll and blink and exist.
Your boss has noticed. Fuck.
โYou okay?" He asked last week, eyes scanning your face like they were looking for something you'd lost. โYou seem... rather tired."
โJust busy," you said, and you almost believed it.
they asked again yesterday. โSeriously, are you sleeping? eating? you lookโ" He stopped himself, however, you heard the word they didn't say.ย
Empty. Stuck. Motionless. Iโm fine," Which you always say.ย
Same words. Same tone. Same lie.
You know you're not fine. You know that. But acknowledging it feels like opening a door you're not ready to walk through. So you ignore it. You ignore the way your energy drains faster than it used to. You ignore the way getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain. You ignore your boss's concerned glances and the way they leave an extra pastries by your bag every shift nowโjust in case you haven't eaten.
You ignore it because ignoring is easier.
Because if you didn't ignore it, you'd have to admit that something is wrong. And admitting that means dealing with it. And dealing with it means... what?ย
Therapy? Medication? Talking to someone? Changing?
You don't have the energy for any of that.
Causing your boss eventually stopped asking. Instead, he just... gave you time off. a week, then two, then three. "take as long as you need," he said, with that same worried look you kept pretending not to see.ย
He figured, like maybe hoped that staying home would help. that rest would pull you out of whatever hole you'd fallen into.
So you stay home. You live in and out of your bed. some days you're awake enough to sit on the couch. most days you're not.
Every now and then, someone comes to check on you. A friend. a family member. someone who cares enough to show up unannounced.ย
You don't have the energy to be annoyedโagain you don't have the energy for much of anythingโbut you also don't want them to worry. So you clean. Just enough to make your space look lived-in instead of caved-in. You shower. You put on clean clothes.ย
You play pretend.
โIโm good,โ you say, same as always. โJust tired. exams took a lot out of me."
They nod. they leave. and the second the door closes, you're back in bed, phone in hand.
All you want is to be alone. all you want is to scroll. to disappear into the glow of the screen where nothing matters and no one expects anything from you.
Your handheld game helps, sometimes. one of your friends bought it for you as a congratulations giftโ"you finished your exams! you earned this!"โa wildly popular life simulation series where you populate a bustling, personalized island with mii avatars of yourself, family, friends, or fictional characters.ย
You act as an god like caretaker, watching these little digital people interact, fall in love, fight, perform concerts, navigate bizarre daily dramas.
It was supposed to be fun, relaxing, a reward for once.
Now it just feels like another task. another thing you should be doing. Another reason to feel guilty when you don't.
You even listen to music, too. Your favorite artist. The same songs on repeat, over and over, hoping to feel something. A spark of the person you used to be before everything got so heavy.
But at last, nothing comes.ย
Just the same boring numbness. Same hollow ache. You're lying there, thumb hovering over your phone screen, when you hear it.
A knock. Soft, but definitely there. Weird thing isโit's not coming from your front door. It's coming from your balcony window.
"What the hellโฆ?" You freeze. Your heart does this weird thingโnot panic exactly, but something like recognition. Because normal people don't knock on balcony windows. Normal people can't even reach a third-floor balcony.
You turn your head slow.
And there's a silhouette on the other side of the glass.ย
Tall. Familiar. Just... waiting for you to open up.
โ ๐ ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐ย
โโฆPierrot?"
Your eyes watch the figure on the balcony moves, seeing a shift of weight and tilt of the head. Enough for you to recognize that shape anywhereโjust a too-tall frame, slump of his shoulders, the way he holds himself like he's always bracing for bad news.
You set your phone down then swing your legs over the side of the bed. Your body feels heavy, each step toward the balcony window an effort, close like wading through water.
The lock sticks for a few secoud, you haven't opened this door in weeks, no truly months. But it finally gives, and the late afternoon air hits your face, cool and sharp, and there he is.
Just standing on your third-floor balcony like it's the most natural thing in the world. His white masked face is even paler than usual under the dim city lights, and his starry eyesโthose beautiful, swirling eyesโare wide and wet and devastated.
โMy dear," he breathes.
And then he's moving, crossing the small space between you in one long stride, and his hands are cupping your face before you can say anything, his cool fingers trembling against your cheeks.
โWe thought you were dead," he whispers. his voice cracks on the last word. โWeโฆ )-I thoughtโwhen you stopped answering, when the days turned to weeks, we thought something had happened to you. we thought you'd left me forever."
HIs eyes search your face, and you watch the worry settle into his features like a physical weight. Those now starry pupils flicker as they take in everythingโsuch as the dark bruises under your eyes, the unnatural lightness of your skin, the way your cheeks look slightly hollowed out like you haven't been eating enough.ย
His gaze drops to your hoodie (the same one from three days ago, you can't remember the last time you changed), then to the room behind you, displaying a dim, messy, stuck look, then back to your face.
โAnd you were just..." his voice cracks. tears spill over, tracking silver lines down his powdered cheeks. โYou were justโฆ scrolling?"
You open your mouth. the excuse is already there, the same one you've been giving everyone: i'm fine, just tired, exams took a lot out of me, i just need restโ
Pierrot shakes his head before you can even say it. โNo," he whispers. โDon't. Please don't lie to me. i can see you, my dear. You're not fine."
You close your mouth.
He steps closer, his cool large hands finding yours again, holding them like they're something precious. โYou look..." he trails off, searching for words. โDim. like someone turned down your light. like you're fading."His lower lip trembles just a bit
โPlease. Tell me what's wrong. I don't understand the things you humans go through, but I want to. I need to. because seeing you like thisโ" his voice drops to barely a whisper. "it's breaking me."
You don't have an answer.ย
You don't have words for what's been happening inside your head. Burnout? Depression? Exhaustion? All you know is that you've been stuck and numb and tired in a way that sleep can't fix.
Pierrot doesn't wait for you to figure it out.
He pulls you into his chest again, but this time he doesn't let go. his arms wrap around you tightโnot painfully, but firmly, like he's afraid you'll dissolve if he loosens his grip.
His face presses into your hair, and you feel him breathing you in, shaky and desperate. โIโve got you," he murmurs against your head. โI don't know what's happening, but i've got you. you don't have to explain. you don't have to do anything. Just... let me hold you."
You were still there for a long moment, limp in his arms, letting him support your weight. and slowlyโso slowlyโyou feel something unfreeze in your chest.
He starts moving you toward the bed. not pushing, not dragging, just... guiding. His long body curls around yours as he pulls you onto the mattress, arranging the pillows behind your head, tugging the blanket up over both of you.
โPierrot, what are youโ"
โShh." he tucks you against his side, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other coming up to stroke your hair. โWe're going to stay here. in this bed. and you're going to rest, and Iโm going to hold you, mayebe later I can cook for you and eventuallyโ" he presses a kiss to your forehead.ย
โEventually, you're going to feel better."
โYou don't know that."
โI believe it," he says softly. "and sometimes that's enough."
He doesn't understand burnout. Doesn't know the word for it, doesn't have a framework for the way modern life drains the life out of people. But he understands sadness. He understands exhaustion. He understands what it feels like to be so tired that moving your body feels impossible.
So he holds you. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your back. his chest rises and falls against yours. And every few minutes, he whispers something soft and reassuring into your hair.
โYou're safe."
โIโm here."
โYou don't have to be anything right now."
His starry eyes never leave your face, even as the minutes stretch into an hour. he watches you like you're the most precious thing in the worldโlike he's memorizing every detail, every breath, every small sign that you're still here.
โPierrot?"
โYes, my dear?"
โโฆThank you. For coming."
Your felt his arms tighten around you. โAlways," he whispers. โAlways, always, always." And for the first time in weeks, you close your eyes and let yourself be held.
โ ๐ฝ๐ถ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ๐
โWhat the fucโฆ Harlequin?โ
You whisper his name before you even open the door, and Harlequin's silhouette goes still. โโฆWhat?"
โUh, just... come in."
You slide the door open, and he steps inside like he owns the placeโbecause of course he does, itโs him. You notice his neon green eyes sweep across your apartment, taking in the dim lighting, the messy blankets, the general stagnation of it all. But instead of concern, his face splits into that familiar, jagged grin.
โWell, well, well," he purrs, dropping onto your couch like a cat claiming a sunbeam. โThe human seems alive or, wellโฆ enough. Same difference."
You sit back down on your bed, phone already finding its way back into your hand.ย
โSo,โ he drawls, kicking his feet up on your coffee table. "you gonna explain why you've been ignoring me? or are we just pretending the last few months didn't happen?"
โI wasn't ignoring youโ"
โOh, really?" he pulls out his own phone, scrolling with one claw. โBecause i've sent you... let's see... forty-seven reels. FORTY-SEVEN. and you haven't reacted to a SINGLE one."
You open your mouth. Then close it.
The truth is, you've watched every single one.
You couldn't not watch themโharlequin has a way of knowing when you've seen his messages. but the things he sends you are... cursed. Like, genuinely deranged. Last week he sent you a video of a raccoon riding a roomba while wearing a tiny cowboy hat, set to dramatic classical music. The week before that, it was a compilation of geese committing what could only be described as war crimes.
You weren't sure if you were depressed or just terrified of birds now.
โI watched them," you mumble.
โOh yeah? Then why didn't you react?"
โBecause I don't know how to react to a goose stealing someone's sandwich."ย
Harlequin snorts. โThat's fair. That one was art."
You fall into something almost comfortableโhim sprawled on your couch, you curled on your bed, both of you on your phones. This is normal for you two. parallel play, he calls it. existing in the same space without being annoying about it.
Except.
Except you stop responding to his commentary. Your thumb keeps scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. reels blur together. cats, memes, a video essay about something you don't care about. Harlequin says somethingโa joke, maybe, or a sex jokeโand you hum in response, not really hearing him.
โHello? Earth to the human who's been ignoring me for months?"
You don't look up.
โOkay, that'sโ" he cuts himself off then you hear him stand feel the bed shift just a bit as he moves. Suddenly his hand is on your phone, tugging it gently but firmly out of your grip. โHeyโ"
โNo."
You look up. Harlequin is standing over you, your phone in one hand, his neon eyes fixed on your face. and for the first time since he arrived, he really looks at you.
The grin fades while his head tiltsโcatlike, curious, assessing. his gaze traces the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders slump, the hollow emptiness in your expression that you've been hiding from mirrors.
โYou look..." he pauses, searching for words. โBad. like, really bad. When's the last time you slept?"
โI sleep."
โThat's not what I asked, little thing.โ Still, you don't answer.
One of Harlequin's tendrills flicks behind himโa nervous habit he'd never admit to. He looks at your phone, then back at you, then at your phone again. something shifts in his expression.ย
Something almost like... guilt?ย
โWas it the reels?" he asks, quieter than usual. โDid Iโฆ was I the reason youโ"
โNo.โ and for once, you're being honest. โIt's not you. Iโtsโฆ everything. Iโve just been stuck." He stares at you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he shoves your phone into his pocket. Sits down on the bed beside you. Like Close, very close than he normally would.
โOkay," he says.
โโฆOkay?"
โOkay, you're stuck. Okay, you've been ignoring me. Okay, you look like a sad, wilted lettuce." he bumps his shoulder against yours. โIโm still here, aren't I? Iโm not going anywhere."
You lean into him without meaning to. One of his tendrills curls around you. โYou're gonna be fine," he mutters, almost to himself. โYou're annoyingly resilient. it's one of your few good qualities."
โI have other good qualities."
โName three."
โโฆIโm not doing this right now." He laughsโsoft, real, nothing bitter about it. And for a little while, neither of you moves.
โ ๐ฟ๐๐๐๐๐ย
โThe hell, Jesterโฆ?โ
You whisper his name through the glass, and for a long moment, nothing happens.ย
He doesn't move, speak, just stands there, massive and still, like a statue someone forgot to finish. you almost think you imagined itโthe knock, the shape, the whole thingโwhen his voice finally cuts through the night.
โYou took longer than expected to open."
it's not a complaint. not really. just an observation, delivered in that low, resonant tone that makes your bones feel weird. You slide the door open, and Jester steps inside.
He doesn't say anything at first. just stands there in the middle of your tiny apartment, taking it in. The messy bed. the scattered snack wrappers. The phone in your hand, screen still glowing.
His purple eyes, just sharp, steady, ancient eyesโsweep across everything in your place. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and resonant, each word deliberate. โSo this is what modern humans consider meaningful existence. Staring at box of light. Ignoring the living world.โ He crosses his arms, and you feel the full weight of his judgment pressing down on you.
You should probably say something. Defend yourself at least. Explain your poor behavior. But your throat feels tight, and his presence is a lot, and all you can manage is a weak, "...hi."
One of his eyebrows lifts. just slightly. just enough. โHi," he repeats, like the word is foreign. like he's testing it on his tongue. โYou disappear for months. you stop responding to all forms of communication. You let me believeโ" he pauses, something flickering across his face too fast to read. โAnd all you have to say is hi?"
You shift your weight, just a bit. โI didn't know what else to say."
"the truth is usually a good starting point."
You don't have the truth. Not one you can put into words, anyway. So you just stand there, phone still in your hand, and let him look at you.
He does, like for a long time.ย
And then he unexpectedly moves. Well not toward you. Toward your kitchen funny enough. You watch, baffled, as the jesterโmassive, purple, terrifying jester opens your cabinets. Peers inside. Closes them. opens your fridge. makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a hum.
โYou have no food," he states.
"i have... some food."
โYou have instant noodles and expired yogurt." he turns to face you, arms still crossed. โThis is not food. This is desperation or a cry for help.โ
Vefore you can respond, he's pulling out his phoneโa sleek, expensive-looking thing that seems too small for his handsโand typing something with practiced efficiency.
โWhat are you doing?"
โOrdering groceries."
โYouโฆ you can't justโ"
โI can," he says, not looking up. โI am. Watch Me.โ
And you do. you watch the most intimidating monster you've ever met stand in your messy kitchen and order you groceries like it's the most natural thing in the world.
When he's done, he pockets his phone and turns to you, expression unreadable. โYou're going to eat," he says. "real food. more than once a day. i will ensure this."
โYou don't have toโ"
โI am aware that I don't have to. I am choosing to." his purple eyes meet yours. โThere is a difference."
You don't know what to say to that, so you say nothing. He looks at your bed, all of the the rumpled blankets, the pillow you've been hugging for warmth and then back at you.
โWhen's the last time you slept? Truly slept? not the restless, nightmare-ridden version you've been enduring."
You blink, "how do you know aboutโ"
โIโve notice things." he says it simply. like it's obvious. "you have dark circles beneath your eyes. your posture has collapsed. your energy is... dim than before.โ a pause. "you are not well."
It's not a question. โIโm just tired," you try.
โYou are exhausted, burned out. there is a difference." he moves toward youโslowly, carefully, like you're a wild animal he doesn't want to spook. โAnd you are not going to fix it by staring at that device."
He gestures at your phone, still clutched in your hand.
"Give it to me."
โWhat? noโ"
โGive me the phone, little human."
There's something in his voiceโnot a command, exactly. more like... an invitation. like he's offering to carry something too heavy for you. And maybe it's the exhaustion. maybe it's the numbness. maybe it's just that he's him.
But you hand it over.
He takes it gently, like surprisingly gently and sets it on your dresser, face down. โThere," he says. โNow you have no choice but to exist in the present moment."
โThatโsโฆ terrifying."
โGood. Fear is motivating."
He sits on the edge of your bed, which it creaks under his weight and pats the space beside him. โCome. sit. tell me what has happened to you. or don't. Either way, you are not going to be alone in this room tonight."
You hesitate then you sit.
His presence is huge and warm and solid, and somehow, despite everything, youโฆ feel something loosen in your chest.
โTo be honestโฆ I don't know what's wrong with me," you admit quietly.
โNothing is wrong with you," he says, and his voice is softer now. almost gentle. โYou are a human experiencing human things. Burnout. Exhaustion. The crushing weight of existence." he glances at you. โIt happens. it passes. and in the meantime..." he shifts, draping an arm across your shouldersโheavy, grounding. โYouโll have to deal with me.โ
โI disappeared for months."
โAnd I found you." he says it like it's obvious. like there was never any other option. โI will always find you."ย
You lean into him without meaning to. Again, surprisingly, he lets you. And for the first time in weeks, you don't feel quite so alone.
โ ๐๐พ๐ธ๐๐๐ ๐๐ถ๐๐๐
โWha.. Ticket Takerโฆ?โ
You whisper his name, and the silhouette on your balcony straightens. instantly. like he's been waiting for permission to exist.
You slide the door open, and Ticket Taker steps inside. His eye don't wander. they scan. every corner, every surface, every crumpled blanket and discarded wrapper. his expression is unreadableโthat perfect, black-and-white symmetrical mask he wears like armor.
But you see the tension in his jaw. The way his hands clasp just a little tighter behind his back. โYou didn't show up," he says. No greeting, nor small talk. Just facts.
โI knowโ"
โTo work. To the circus. TO anything." His voice is clipped, controlled, but there's something underneath it. Something that might be hurt, or anger or both. โYou failed to appear. Repeatedly. Without notice. Without explanation."
You open your mouth. close it.
he pulls out a small notebookโthe one he always carries, the one filled with your schedule, your preferences, your existence filed away in neat, precise handwriting. he flips through it, not looking at you.
โYour screen time has increased by approximately 400% since your departure," he states, adding on, โsleep deprivation is evident. your circadian rhythm appears to have collapsed entirely." his eyes flick to your fridgeโyou forgot to close it earlier. "nutritional intake is minimal. inadequate. frankly, embarrassing."
He closes the notebook with a snap.
โThis is unsustainable. Even for an human, I will be implementing restrictions immediately."
"Restrictions?"
โON your device usage. on your sleep schedule. on your diet." he finally looks at you, and his gaze is sharp. disappointed. "you have disappointed me."
the words hit harder than you expect.
โI didn'tโ"
โYou didn't show up." his voice cracks, just slightly. just enough. "you didn't show up, and you didn't tell me why. I had to infer. I had to calculate. do you know how many variables I had to account for because you wouldn't simply communicate?"
You don't answer.
He pacesโshort, sharp movements, like a caged animal. โI have been maintaining everything, hoping and preparing for your return, assuming there would be a return." he stops, faces you. โAnd then i find you here. In this state. Living like..." he gestures at the room, at you, at everything. โLike this."
โLike what exactly?"
โLike someone who has given up."
The words hang in the air between the both of you.
And something in his expression just changes, a littleย softens, just a fraction. He looks at you, see him notice the dark circles, the hollow cheeks, the way your shoulders slump like you're carrying something too heavy.
He exhales as a hand through his hair already slick black hairโwhich is a rare tell, manโs was worried about you.
โโฆIโm pushing too hard," he says quietly, not a question more like observation.ย
You don't confirm or deny. You just stand there.
He sits on the edge of your bedโperched, really, like he's afraid of wrinkling his suit. his hands rest on his knees. he looks almost... uncertain. โLet's start smaller," he says. โCarefully. one thing at a time."
He pats the space beside him. โSit.โ which you do.
He doesn't touch youโhe never initiates touch, not reallyโbut he's close. closer than usual. his presence is solid, steady, there.
โTell me," he says. โHow do you feel?" It's such a simple question. and you don't have an answer. not one that fits into words.
โI don't know," you admit.
He nods, like that's acceptable. like he was expecting it. "then tell me what you do know."
You think about it. "i'm tired."
โObviously."
โLike... bone tired. Mentally, the kind of tired that sleep doesn't fix."
He's quiet for a moment. then: โContinue."
โI haven't been eating. or... I have, but not enough. not the right things." you glance at him. โYou noticed."
โI notice everything." his voice is softer now. less sharp. โIt's what I do."
โYeah."
Silence but like it's not uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence that happens when someone is actually listening. โI miss the circus," you hear yourself say. โI miss... everyone. I just didn't know how to come back."
He turns to look at you. Now those cool, calculating eyesโbut there's warmth there, hidden underneath.
โYou're here now," he says. "that's a start."
He pulls out his notebook againโbut this time, when he opens it, he doesn't start calculating. he just... holds it. like he's waiting.
โIโm going to help you," he says. โWhether you want me to or not. i'm going to make a schedule. Iโm going to ensure you eat. i'm going to monitor your sleep. and eventuallyโ" he meets your eyes. โEventually, you're going to feel like yourself again."
โYou can't know that."
โI can." he says it simply. โIโve calculated the variables. the probability of recovery is high. provided you cooperate."
You almost smile. Almost. "...and if i don't cooperate?"
His lips twitchโthe closest he ever gets to a smile. "Then i will be very persistent. you know this about me."
You do.
He stands, straightens his cuffs and looks down at you with something that might be fondness, if you squint. โWe'll start tomorrow," he says. "Today, you rest. Iโll stay." He sits back down.
Doesn't touch you but his shoulder is close enough that you could lean on it, if you wanted.
โ ๐น๐๐ธ๐๐๐ย
โIs that, Doctor??โ
You whisper-yelled his name through the glass with confusion, not expecting an answer.
You're about to call out again when you rememberโoh. Right. This is Doctor. He doesn't do spontaneous visits. He doesn't leave the circus unless it's Halloween or the entire month of October when he apparently haunts the mortal realm like a goth Santa Claus.ย
Any other time? Good luck. He's in his greenhouse.ย
Talking to his ferns. Listening to heavy metal. Dissecting things that probably shouldn't be dissected.
So the figure on your balcony? On a random Friday?ย
You're either dreaming or he's lost.
But then he ducks because your balcony door is not small, but this man is very much tall. Like, Pirrot tall. Maybe taller. His horns scrape the top of the frame and he has to bend his neck at an angle that looks deeply uncomfortable, and you realize with a jolt that you completely forgot how big he is.ย
Doctor is not a man who looms. He's a man who exists in the background, in the shadows, in the spaces between things. But up close? In your tiny apartment? He takes up soo much space.
โWell,โ he says, his voice that low, pleasant hum that somehow makes your skin crawl in a not-entirely-bad way. "You look awful.โ
"...Hi?"
"Hm." He sets down a medical bag you didn't notice he was carrying and starts circling you. Like a shark. Like you're a specimen in a petri dish. "Pupils are dilated. Skin is pale. Posture is collapsed. When's the last time you saw the sun?โ
"I don't know. Two week ago?"
โDisgraceful."
He pulls out a small penlight and shines it directly into your eyes without warning. You flinch as you heard him clicks his tongue behind his mask, "Follow the light. Don't blink. Try not to be dramtic about it, sweetieโ
"I'm not being dramaticโ"
"You're flinching. That's dramatic."
He makes a note on a pad that has also materialized from nowhere. His handwriting is surprisingly neat. Almost pretty. There are little botanical doodles in the margins.
"Your eyes are strained," he announces. "You've been staring at thatโ" he gestures at your phone, still glowing on the bed โโRectangle for hours. In the dark. Without proper lightting.โ
"I have a lampโ"
โA lampย is not sufficient for retinal health. You need ambient light. Natural light. Just light that isn't blue and screen-sourced." He pulls out a small handheld scannerโyou don't even want to know where he got itโand runs it over your face. It beeps. He frowns.
"Your melatonin production is essentially non-existence. Your dopamine receptors are fried. Your circadian rhythm is destroyed." He looks up at you, cyan eyes sharp. "You've turned your brain into much.โ
"Wow. Thanksโฆโ
"You're welcome." He pockets the scanner and tilts his head, studying you the way he studies anything else.
"Here's the thing, sweetie," he says, stepping closer. He doesn't ask permission. He just... occupies space. "I don't do interventions. I don't do heartfelt speeches. I don't do whatever Pierrot doesโthe crying, the clinging, the I thought you were dead theatrics." He waves a hand vaguely, like he's shooing away a fly. "Exhausting. All of it."
"You came all the way here though."
"I did." He says it simply. Like it's obvious. Like of course he did. "Because you're interesting, and interesting specimens don't just get to... wither. That's wasteful."
He pulls a small glass vial from his bagโsomething pale blue and faintly glowing. "This is a tincture. Herbal. I made it myself. It won't fix you, nothing fixes anything, not really but it'll help your body remember how to sleep. Real sleep. The kind where your brain actually resets."
He presses it into your palm. His fingers are cool, much larger than your own. "Drink it before bed. Not with your phone in your hand. Not with the screen glowing in your face. Just... close your eyes and exist in the dark for a while."
"This isn't going to turn me into a frog, is it?"
"Don't be ridiculous." A pause. "Frogs require a much higher dosage."
You stare at him. He stares back, completely deadpan.
"...That was a joke."
"Ah. Well. I can see that."
"Was it funny?"
You didn't have the heart to answer. Just looked away.
He followed your gaze, glancing around your apartment agaiaโthe rumpled blankets, the scattered wrappers, the general stagnation of it all. His mask made his expression hard to read, but something in his voice softened. Just slightly. Just enough.
"You've been existing, not living," he said quietly. "There's a difference. I know you know that."
Again, you didn't answer.
He didn't push. Instead, he moved toward you, not looming this time, just... present. Close enough that you could smell the dried lavender and chamomile clinging to his coat.
"You're not a failed experiment," he said, tilting his head. "You're not a specimen that's been left on a shelf to collect dust. You're just... unwatered. Like my ferns when I forget to open the greenhouse blinds."
"...Are you comparing me to a plant?"
"I'm saying plants don't choose to wilt. They just don't have what they need." His cyan eyes held yours. "You haven't had what you need either. That's not a moral failure. It's just... a missing variable."
You blinked. "That's... surprisingly gentle. For you."
"I have my moments." He pulled a small glass vial from his bag, pale blue, faintly glowing, and pressed it into your palm. His fingers were cool, dry, steady. "This will help. Not because I'm kind, but because I don't like watching interesting things wither. It's inefficient."
"You could just say you care."
"I could." He didn't. But he also didn't move away.
The silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable, just... full. Like something had been waiting to be said, and neither of you knew how to say it.
"I don't sleep much," he said finally, quieter than before. "I listen to music. I check on my plants. I... could sit with you. If you wanted."
"...You?"
"Surprised?"
"A little."
He almost smiled. Almost. "So am I."
He didn't leave immediately. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, his presence solid and steady.
"You should drink that before bed," he said, nodding at the vial in your hand. "Preferably in the dark. Preferably without your phone. And preferably..." he paused, something unreadable wavering across his masked face. "Preferably not alone."
"...Is that an instruction or an invitation?"
"Yes."
You huffed something that might have been a laugh. It felt strange in your chest.
He turned toward the balcony, his silhouette massive against the dim light. His horns scraped the top of the doorframe again, and he ducked with that same awkward grace, pausing at the threshold.
"If you need anything," he said, not looking back, "I'm in the greenhouse. Or the tent. Or... somewhere. You know how to find me."
And then he was gone, leaving behind a faint scent of dried herbs, cool earth, and something that might have been chamomile.
You looked down at the vial in your hand. And for the first time in weeks, you thought maybe you weren't as alone as you felt.
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19. she/her. cancer. isfj-t (and my blood is "b-positive"). psych student. barista. tea > coffee. hopeless romantic. "i'm okay with everything i've ever gone through because now i'm here today."
<3 harlequin. my cat. cherries. peaches. oatmeal. bagels. baby's breath. tea. iced matchas. ryan gosling. twizzlers. fruity pebbles marshmallow bars. ibuprofen. tv girl. tattoos. cds. joltik โก
</3 ai. pens that smudge. when the ends of your nose ring catch on your nose when it passes through the piercing channel.
currently writing for: the freak circus
other current interests: tomadachi life. project hail mary. graham crackers.
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rules/guidelines
inbox for chatting or requests are always open! โก
mdni. please have your age visible on your page before following me.
hard "no"s that i will not interact with or write about are self-harm, eating disorders, and body dysmorphia/image
anything else is open to the table! rules and "no"s are always subject to change
please do not copy or repost my works without credit. do not feed my works to ai.
i don't feel super confident writing nsfw content but i'm slightly interested in trying. however, i will most likely discuss suggestive or nsfw content outside of my writing, and i will tag any warnings with #tw and #cw [topic]