#;;clown magic and science are not a good mix smh

[nightmaresgiven]

@townofcadence from here

He doesn't remember how he got here. Artair feels metal beneath him, the hard surface uncomfortable and cold. His arms are strapped down with leather belts far too thick to make sense. A test of movement, and his legs are restrained as well. Artair's breath catches. It smells like the same cleaner, the same antiseptic scent he remembers. He squirms in place, yanking on the buckles binding his hands down. They don't budge. A glance around only confirms things. He's on a table, and he can see the stand of surgical tools placed carefully nearby. There's a deep-welled sink in the corner, and glass cabinets filled with things-- both reagents for the kind of work one would do on a table such as this, and others that glow, or move, specimens of others like him. The beat of his heart is hammering behind his ribs. He kicks his legs, he wrenches his arms. The force might dislocate something, but that hardly matters. It already feels like his chest is on fire, and all he can think is get out get out get out--. The door opens across the room. Artair struggles harder, eyes wide and aglow and sharp teeth bared, seeing a silhouette backlit by white light. His brain fills with static and he can't breath and his ribs itch and ache and all his insides vice tight enough to suffocate. It has to be a dream--- he's not here anymore. He not. He thrashes wildly, the effort near drowning out the faintest sound of jingling bells.

It wasn't often that he found one's who had so much good material to work with! Most people were so boring, their worst nightmares dealt with showing up somewhere important with no clothes, or being ostracized from society somehow. But this one! Ohhhh this one was his very own sweet nightmare come true! This mind was rich with turmoil and unrest, so many things the subconscious was struggling with on its own.

It had been so hard to pick just one thing to play with!

But it's been awhile since he's really gotten his hands dirty, and what better way to do so than by putting them inside of someone? Physically, at least, if you think about it he was in people all the time-- in their minds! But that was a different kind of mess.

And he gets to make such a dramatic entrance, here! The door creaks open slow, revealing a silhouette too familiar for comfort to the other. And then he pauses, lets him really soak in that fear, before moving into the room. The silhouette that was oh so familiar shifted until, well-- Cosmo isn't disguising himself, and he certainly looks different from some evil broad or whatever went down here. Felt too literal to be one of those metaphor dreams!

"Hey there, no need to be so im-patient!" He laughs at his own pun. "I'll get you cut open here real soon!"