I don't know if I should do this but I have no other choice.
Sweet silly clown or silly clown. They were my favourite artist, and about blue lock and blue lock u20 especially but I didn't manage to see all of their artworks in time or save enough (there is example of their works bellow so you may recognise).
As long as I can tell they deleted all of theirs socials, like, literally everything and gone. They were Spanish, if I'm not wrong. I really enjoyed their art and planned to see everything of theirs works but...
I just want to know what happened with them. Are they alright and why they did that... For some reasons I can't let it go and keep thinking about it every time, especially when I open old Pinterest notifications. I don't know literally anything about them, so I just hope someone who knows them will see that post. I really really really need to know.
Maybe I shouldn't report their artworks, but I had to
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Pssstttt….i saw you doing TFC reacting to goths /gyaru…. Would you consider doing a reader who matches the very “stereotypical” witchcore theme 👀
I love it sm. Like imagine a reader collecting herbs, making potions/spells, practicing occultism, etc.
I could totally see us offering to make potions for them (I also would totally make a protection potion if I was in readers place cuz Pierrot is lowkey CREEPY.) as well as offering to give them tarot readings if they were interested
Mesmerized, deeply touched, but quietly bashful before your insightful, spiritual gaze. Pierrot spends his life trapped in a tragic role, constantly burdened by a somber atmosphere and melancholy. When you approach him with a tiny glass vial filled with dried rosemary, coarse sea salt, black tourmaline, and a wax-sealed parchment, offering it as a protective charm... his eyes widen in utter disbelief and skepticism. He carefully takes the potion jar from your hands as if it were made of the thinnest glass, trembling slightly. It is so silly, yet so... sweet?
"This... is for me? To ward off misfortune?"
He will always keep it hidden in the inner pocket of his robes, right next to his heart. If you offer to give him a Tarot reading, he will sit across from you in absolute, breathless silence. When you pull cards like the Tower or the Moon, he nods with a sad, knowing smile, deeply moved by how accurately your cards reflect his trapped soul. He treats your craft with poetic reverence. Even though his aura can be lowkey creepy at times, beside you he feels understood on a metaphysical level.
"To weave intention into the physical world through threads, stones, and flora... You possess a rare, quiet power, my dear. I will cherish this amulet for as long as my heart continues to beat."
He does not particularly believe in such things, but as a hobby and an aesthetic, he understands it completely.
Harlequin
Laughing delight, immediate requests for "chaos potions." Harlequin sees your jars of murky liquids, dried herbs, and bone pendulum, and thinks you are the coolest, most unpredictable creature in the circus. He is not afraid of your magic; he wants to use it for pranks! He will burst into your space, slam his hands on the table, and loudly demand:
"Hey! Can you brew me a potion that turns the Doctor's hair bright green? Or a hex to make the Ticket Taker sneeze every time he grunts?"
Whenever you pull the Devil or the Fool for him during a Tarot reading, he bursts out laughing, claps his hands, and declares it a personal victory. He loves watching you forage for herbs around the circus grounds. He will tag along, randomly picking up poisonous mushrooms or weird weeds and shoving them in your face:
"Is this good for a curse, or will it just make my tongue go numb?"
"A real living witch! Look at you with your little jars and skull trinkets! Come on, spill it, which card says I'm gonna cause absolute mayhem tonight?"
Regardless of whether it's real, it's fun and immaculate vibes.
Jester
A slow, sharp smirk and a deeply respectful nod to a fellow master of symbolism. Jester understands the occult better than anyone else. He knows that magic, Tarot, and rituals are all about intention, focus, and psychological mastery over reality. He does not mock your craft for a second, he recognizes a true practitioner. He likes sitting across from you while you shuffle your Tarot deck. Instead of asking mundane questions, he will test you with deep, cryptic prompts just to see how accurately you interpret the cards. When you pull the Hanged Man or the Magician, a knowing, dangerous grin spreads across his face. He will start discussing card symbolism, arcana, and planetary alignments with you like a colleague. He is genuinely impressed by your knowledge of herbs. If he gets a headache or feels burnt out, he won't go to the Doctor (the Doctor would get jealous), he will quietly ask you for a sachet of wormwood or some chamomile tea.
"Ah, reading the threads of fate, are we? You know, sunshine, most people fear what they cannot see, but you invite it right to your table. I like people who aren't afraid to deal with the unseen."
Doctor
Rigid scientific skepticism followed by intense botanical and chemical interest. The Doctor initially scoffs at the idea of "spells" or "Tarot prophecies," writing them off as primitive superstitions. But when he sees you flawlessly identify wild belladonna, measure precise proportions of dried willow bark, and extract essential oils, his analytical brain instantly flips a switch. He will literally examine your herb jars through a magnifying glass, interrogating you on your knowledge of pharmacology and organic chemistry:
"You claim this lavender salve reduces inflammation? Name the active chemical compounds responsible for this!"
When you give him a fact-based, well-researched answer on how herbal medicine works, he adjusts his glasses and mentally logs you into the "surprisingly competent" category. He pretends your Tarot cards are nonsense, but if you leave a protective charm in his sterile medical tent, he won't throw it away. He will neatly place it on a shelf, claiming it is "for observing organic decomposition."
"Hmph. Call it 'magic' if you must, but your knowledge of plant toxicity and preparation is surprisingly precise. ...Be sure to leave a sample of that anti-inflammatory tincture on my desk before you leave."
At first, your relationship didn't start off well. Your treatment methods were a real blow to the Doctor's pride and self-esteem. It was humiliating. It was stupid! What kind of idiot would favor some "magic" over exact science? You might even be at odds initially. He won't acknowledge you and might even refuse medical services, but only until you prove you aren't completely detached from reality. He has mixed feelings. He thinks your hobbies are nonsense, but interesting nonsense, and he is very intrigued by your plant knowledge. Alternative healing methods discovered through your own knowledge deserve respect. He might not accept your magical rituals 100%, but he is certainly confident in your expertise. He will definitely invite you over for tea in the evening to discuss the next batch of "folk remedies."
Ticket Taker
A long, silent gaze, a heavy nod, and quiet respect for old traditions. The Ticket Taker is a man of the earth, physical labor, and ancient instincts. He does not understand high philosophy or complex alchemy, but he understands nature, protection, and respect for the unknown. He will watch with quiet, stoic approval as you gather herbs along the fence line. If he finds a rare dried flower, an intact bird feather, or an unusual quartz stone during his night rounds, he will silently hand it to you the next morning without saying a word. When you offer him a Tarot reading, he sits down heavily, taking off his hat out of respect. He pulls a card with his calloused, massive fingers and listens to your interpretation with intense, quiet gravity. If you give him a protective charm, he will stoically tie it to his heavy iron lantern or keep it inside the ticket booth, trusting your instinct to guard the grounds against bad spirits.
"The old ways are the right ways. You respect the land, and it respects you back. ...Thank you for the charm. I'll keep it close."
He is drawn to this "old-time" feel. He finds magic and all that stuff not very believable or reliable, but this homage to the past is definitely to his liking.
hi!! after seeing the posts about decora and gyaru MCs, i couldn’t help but hop on the tfc + j-fashion request train!
i’ve always really loved jirai kei fashion despite the reputation the jirai community tends to have lol. i’d love to see the tfc gang’s reactions to an mc who dresses in jirai kei! thank youuu 🫶🫶
Oh, right , jirai. Loved this style in past before a met some and learn the lore. The style, itself, really good. Don't want to talk about people, but community, in general, kinda toxic. It's painful to they call eachother larp just because.... Anyways, let's see what I think about this request.
When Pierrot sees your dark lace, massive bows, and soft reddish makeup around your eyes that makes you look as if you are on the verge of tears, his heart aches. To him, you look like a fragile porcelain doll that has survived something horrible and carries a heavy pain within. He treats you with unbelievable tenderness, tiptoeing around as if a loud sound might break your spirit. If he notices your platform shoes or delicate silver heart-shaped accessories, he will quietly remark with a touch of sadness how beautifully you are dressed, admiring how every bow feels like a tiny secret. When he realizes that you are actually resilient and quite self-sufficient, his desire to protect you does not vanish, it simply transforms into acceptance. He will straighten the ribbons on your collar or offer a cup of warm tea whenever you zone out, offering any small acts of care just for the sake of it.
"You look as though you were woven from shadows and silk... There is a deep, quiet poetry in how you present yourself, my dear. Please, allow me to ensure that nothing bad happens to you here," — he admits one day.
Ironically, he does not even realize at first that this is a specific style or an entire subculture. To him, you simply look cute, neat, and somehow a bit pitiable, in a good way, since it makes him want to protect you so badly.
Harlequin
Harlequin needs only a single glance at your cute ruffles, heart harnesses, and dramatic "sad-cute" makeup to instantly decode the contrast. He thinks the "hidden, slightly unhinged mercy" of the Jirai style is absolute gold. He will constantly try to tug lightly at the huge ribbons on your blouse or poke your platform shoes just to see your reaction, feeling that you treasure your clothes and wanting to see how much those scraps of fabric mean to you. He will dramatically pretend to cry, teasing your red eye makeup:
"Oh no! Are we sobbing? Are we fainting? Boo-hoo! Womp-womp~"
All of this just to burst out laughing when you meet his gaze with a stony stare or tease him back. Out of all the styles, Jirai brings Harlequin pure joy because it is prime material for endless banter. He cannot look at you without wanting to drop a sarcastic remark about your "pitiful face." The style gives him strange associations with Pierrot. Secretly, he loves that you wear an outfit that looks sweet on the outside while hinting at a sharp, unpredictable personality within. He views you as a fellow master of deception.
"That look on your face says you would slip poison into my tea if I looked at you the wrong way! I love it! You are like a cute little grenade wrapped in lace!"
Jester
Jester reads people like open books. He sees clearly that this is not just "cute clothes" on a "cutie" it is a carefully crafted suit of armor made of hyper-feminine aesthetics, dark romanticism, and emotional self-expression. He recognizes a fellow artist in you, someone who uses their appearance to control how the world perceives them. He does not care much about the style itself, finding it simple, but the contrast intrigues him. If you are a "typical Jirai," then he finds the performance captivating. He will greet you with a slow, theatrical bow, playfully addressing you as a "dark princess/prince" or a "melancholic doll." He takes pleasure in watching circus visitors underestimate you because of your delicate lace and bows, right up until you show your claws behind that sweet exterior. Despite his indifference to the fashion itself, he will still drop a compliment or two.
Doctor
Doctor initially steps forward with full medical seriousness, mistaking your red-pink eye makeup and pale complexion for a real allergic reaction, an infection, or severe sleep deprivation. He mentally notes your makeup as an "unhealthy appearance." He literally lifts your chin with gloved fingers to inspect your eyes:
"Is there an inflammatory process beneath the lower eyelid, or is this... an intentional application of pigment?"
Once you explain the aesthetic, he adjusts his glasses, genuinely fascinated by the psychological subculture of using cosmetics to simulate emotional vulnerability. Though he will grumble that your platform shoes are a hazard on uneven circus terrain, he respects the neat, strict symmetry of your dark lace layers and clean ruffles, even if he does not understand why anyone would intentionally create a sickly and "pitiful" look with such elaborate attire.
Ticket Taker
Ticket Taker sees a quiet figure in dark lace, fluffy skirts, and massive bows standing in the dirty, dusty circus grounds, making him want to step up and check if everything is alright. You look small, neat, and far too fragile for this harsh world. And then you open your mouth (just kidding). As he walks closer, he experiences a strange spectrum of emotions from your appearance alone, either a lost child or someone in pain, but it all leads to the same outcome: he has to check on you. He finds it odd being around you. He constantly feels the urge to make sure you are okay or offer help, as if he suddenly gained a child, which annoys him to some extent. But if your ribbons come untied or your heavy bag gets uncomfortable, he will silently reach out to help or hold heavy gates open so you do not catch your lace on old iron nails. Once he realizes that you have a strong inner backbone and are not made of porcelain after all, he visibly relaxes, as he does not particularly care to fuss over anyone like that.
Hiii Goodmorning (or afternoon, or night, whichever it is when you see this.)
I hope this request isn't too uncomfortable or anything, you can ignore it if it's too intense but can you write something for a male mc x Pierrot dealing with someone being openly homophobic towards them?
I just like to think about my sweet monster bf doing something about the assholes on the streets.
Hiiii!!! Oh, that's okay. This case acceptable. I don't write anything homophobic but it other case. I like to read something like that myself. Yeah, it can be uncomfortable for some people even if it has positive ending, but I don't mind. After all, many of LGBTQ+ community has, unfortunately, be in the situation like that. I, myself, also was a victim of discrimination so yeah. Let's try.
This request can be realised in many different ways, but I stopped on your Idea of "assholes on the streets"
Pierrot x Male Reader
Situation: Someone expresses open homophobia towards them
Disclaimer: Using slurs, trigger warning
The neon lights of the amusement park scattered pink and purple reflections across the rain-slicked asphalt. Pierrot towered over everything around him even in a relaxed pose, his grotesque yet charming figure clad in his usual circus extravaganza. He held your hand in his huge, surprisingly warm palm, swinging your joined hands back and forth with childlike delight.
— "The funnel cake was simply divine, wasn't it, sweetheart?"
Pierrot purred, his raspy, velvety voice vibrating in the night air.
— "Though not nearly as sweet as..."
— "Hey! Look at these two fags!"
The voice erupted from a dark alley near the closed arcade hall. Three guys leaned lazily against a brick wall, clutching half-empty beer bottles. The ringleader, a stocky type in a worn leather jacket, spat onto the sidewalk and gestured aggressively in your direction.
— "Just look at this shit" another laughed, stepping into the streetlight glow.
— "Some lanky freak and his boy. Get that disgusting faggot shit out of my sight. Makes me sick."
You felt an icy lump form in your stomach. Your first instinct was to pull away, defuse the tension, or simply drag Pierrot along before it turned into a fight. But when you squeezed Pierrot’s hand, trying to get him to keep walking, you realized he had frozen in his tracks.
The carefree, clownish joy vanished from Pierrot’s face in a fraction of a second.
His shoulders didn’t just tense up, they seemed to expand. The playful, theatrical tilt of his head vanished, replaced by a low, predatory posture. The painted smirk remained on his lips, but his eyes, wide, dark, and suddenly completely terrifying, locked straight onto the man who had shouted.
— "Pierrot, wait, let's just go..."
you whispered softly, touching his arm.
— "Hold that thought, my sweet boy"
Pierrot muttered softly to you. His voice had lost its playful cadence, dropping to a low, chilling rumble. He didn't let go of your hand. On the contrary, his grip tightened, becoming a solid, protective anchor, and he shifted slightly to shield you with his colossal body.
With agonizing, unhurried deliberation, Pierrot turned fully toward the trio. The air around him instantly grew heavy, charged with such unearthly pressure that the streetlamp overhead flickered.
— "What did you call him?"
Pierrot asked. He took the insult not for himself, but for you, he could endure filth thrown at him, but never at you, nor at your feelings. His tone was level, almost polite, but beneath it lay the clear, bone-chilling promise of slaughter.
The ringleader smirked, trying to play it cool in front of his buddies, though he visibly flinched as Pierrot stepped forward.
— "You heard me, freak. Take your faggot and get lost before..."
Before he could finish, Pierrot lunged with unbelievable speed for his size.
He closed the distance in a single terrifying, swift step. Still holding your hand firmly with his left, he thrust his right hand forward like a steel piston, his massive clawed fingers clamping directly around the offender's throat. What were those three even thinking when they picked a fight with someone looking for this monster? Right, they weren't thinking at all, alcohol makes people do foolish things.
With frightening ease, Pierrot lifted the grown man completely off the ground and pinned him against the brick wall a meter up. The beer bottle shattered loudly against the asphalt. The other two backed away in horror, their arrogance instantly evaporating.
— "I strongly advise," — Pierrot whispered, bringing his face right up to the choking, trembling guy, — "that you choose your next words with absolute, surgical precision."
Pierrot’s sharp teeth gleamed under the streetlights, his eyes widening into two empty, terrifying circles of pure monstrous malice. He was intimidating enough on a normal day, but right now he was completely unrecognizable.
"Because this sweet, wonderful man whose hand I am holding... is the center of my entire universe"
Pierrot growled, his voice resonating deep within his chest like the rumble of an enraged engine. Of course, even now, speaking about you, he couldn't say anything less.
— "And if you ever loosen your filthy, ignorant tongue in his direction again, I won't just break your jaw. I will tear you apart piece by piece, smear your pathetic guts across the pavement, and feed what's left to the stray dogs."
The guy went pale. His legs kicked helplessly in the air as he wheezed under the pressure of Pierrot’s pure, primal strength.
— "I... I get it... please..." he choked out.
— "Pierrot," — you said softly, placing your free palm against his broad, muscular back. — "He understands. Don't ruin our evening over some nobody. Let him go, please."
The moment your voice reached his ears, Pierrot’s terrifying guise instantly gave way to a gentle, devoted warmth. The terrifying aura vanished without a trace. How could he ever refuse you or do something that would upset you? He didn't give a damn about this trash, but if it caused you trouble or ruined your mood, he had no intention of pushing his point.
He unclamped his fingers, letting the guy drop like a sack of flour to the ground, coughing and clutching his neck. The other two didn't need a second invitation, they grabbed their buddy by the collar and sprinted down the alley in sheer terror. Pierrot didn't even grant them a glance. He turned to you, stepping closer to shield you from the cold, damp wind with his powerful body. His terrifying expression melted away, replaced by an affectionate, doting gaze. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a reverent, lingering kiss to your knuckles.
— "Forgive me, darling"
he hummed softly, the familiar raspy warmth and theatrical charm returning to his voice.
— "I detest interrupting our lovely stroll to take out the trash... but as long as I draw breath, no one dares speak to my beloved that way."
He tenderly cupped your cheek with his large, warm hand, running his thumb over your skin as if checking whether you were truly okay and unharmed.
— "How are you, my love? If you're alright, shall we keep walking?"
This is one of the possible reactions and developments.
Pierrot doesn't understand homophobia because love is love. Why should anyone care about someone else's happiness? He could endure homophobia, humiliation, and so on directed at himself, but he will never allow it to happen in your presence.
Disliked Food: Small fish. "Is there even a point in eating these? Aren't they basically just bones?!"
Best Rice Topping: Umai-bo furikake.
Hobbies: Playing/hangout with friends (Karaoke, Bowling, Gaming! Anything is fun as long as I'm with everyone!)
Favorite Season: Summer! Tons of fun things to do!
Favorite Music: "1/6 no Yumebito" (1/6th Dreamer)
Favorite Movie: Rurouni Kenshin, Kingdom
Favorite Manga: Kingdom
Character Color: Fox Brown (Kitsune-iro)
Favorite Celebrity: Kento Yamazaki
Favorite Animal: Rabbit (I own one!)
Best Subject: Japanese (Modern Literature)
Worst Subject: History. I'm bad at remembering names and dates
Fetish: Ear shape fetish. Likes big, round ones!
Things that make him happy: Being told "I like you"/"I love you" straight up.
Things that make him sad: Mind games / playing hard to get. Bad at handling that.
Type of person he likes/he could fall for: Someone who accepts him and has big ears!
Age of First Love: 9 years old. A girl in the class next door. She was the most popular girl in school.
When he got confessed first: 12 years old. Elementary school graduation ceremony. The girl he had a crush on told him she had always liked him too. But they ended up going to different middle schools, so nothing came of it. Dammit—!
Number of Valentine's Chocolates He Got Last Year: 6
Sleep Duration: 7 hours
What he washes first in the bath: Ears
Thing he accidentally/impulsively buys at convenience stores: Cotton swabs
Mushroom or Bamboo Shoot: Mushroom (Kinoko no Ko)
When he cried last time: Was punched by his older brother (because he told his brother his clothes looked tacky and he, himself, thinks he deserved it).
Until what age did he get Christmas presents from Santa?: I'm still getting them! We exchange presents in family!
What did he ask Santa for Christmas last time?: New cleats
What would he do on the last day of Earth?: Play/spend time with family, meet up with friends, and tell the person he likes/loves that he likes/loves them!
What would he do if he got 100 Million Yen?: Buy a bunch of rabbits and create a Rabbit Haven!
How he spends days off: Playing with friends. Doing everything just to not think about soccer
What would he be doing if he hadn't encountered soccer?: Working at a famous trading company!
Favorite Historical Figure?: Qin Shi Huang (influenced by Kingdom!)
One thing he'd bring to a deserted island?: Shoes. Barefoot is just too painful!
If there were a time machine, would he go to the past or future?: Future. I want to know how many more friends I've made!
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So it seems someone else had the same idea and requested gyaru, but hopefully it wouldn't be too much to ask for tfc x reader who's a different substyle gyaru such as amekaji or rokku? Thanks!
I see you guys really - really love gyarus, that's good. I rarely see someone dress or mention this gyaru style, but I like it. Let's try rokku gyaru for now, cuz I love rock styles, hehe.
A mixture of awestruck admiration and quiet timidity. Pierrot takes one look at your black leather jacket covered in silver studs, ripped fishnet tights, dramatic eyeliner, and spiked accessories, and his first thought is that you might be just a little dangerous. But the moment he catches you absentmindedly bobbing your head to the music or laughing with genuine warmth, his nervousness melts into fascination.
He's captivated by the contrast between your "intimidating" appearance and your wonderfully charming personality. Secretly, he's completely mesmerized by just how effortlessly cool you are. While he bends beneath the weight of his own sorrowful role, you wear your rebellious spirit like a badge of honor.
If you ever let him touch the heavy silver chains decorating your jacket or play your favorite songs for him, he'll listen with absolute focus, sincerely admiring your passion. More than anything, he wants to understand you as deeply as possible and even come to share your tastes. Every time you flash him one of your bold, mischievous smiles, he immediately grows flustered, touched that someone so unapologetically cool could treat him with such tenderness.
"Such a wild, untamed spirit dwells within you... It must be wonderful to live so loudly, completely unafraid of the world's judgment. You are truly enchanting, my dear."
Harlequin
An INSTANT match made in chaotic heaven.
Harlequin spots your black leather jacket, metal spikes, leopard print, and killer attitude and immediately decides you're his new favorite and not just because you're the perfect excuse to tease Pierrot. As far as he's concerned, Rock Gyaru energy is 100% circus punk approved.
He'll constantly try to borrow or outright steal your spiked wristbands or leather vest just so he can strut around the circus ring like a glam rock superstar. If he'd been an ordinary human, he'd probably dress similarly himself. Maybe not necessarily the Gyaru part, but punk and rock fashion? Absolutely his thing.
Every time you walk into the room, he'll mime playing an imaginary electric guitar while making over-the-top guitar solo noises just to make you laugh or throw up the classic rock horns (like this 🤘).
Expect him to drag you into every ridiculous prank he comes up with because he knows you've got both the nerve and the style to create absolute chaos. After all, style isn't just about clothes it's a state of mind.
"HA! NOW THIS is what I call making an entrance! Look at those spikes! That hair! You look like you're about to burn this entire tent to the ground, and honestly? I'll bring the matches if you ask, sweetheart!"
Jester
Jester appreciates rebellion,within reason, when it's executed with style. Rock Gyaru isn't about throwing on tasteless clothes, it's a carefully crafted middle finger aimed directly at boring social conventions.
He instantly reads your sharp makeup and layered leather outfits as top-tier personal armor. He enjoys trading sharp, playful banter with you. You're quick-witted and composed enough to fire back at his sarcasm without missing a beat. Watching you stroll around the circus like you own the place genuinely entertains him, and he quietly chuckles whenever pompous visitors recoil from your spiked boots, dark aura, and sideways glances.
He'll casually compliment your taste in leather or music, sincerely enjoying the fact that someone around here brings a sharp, modern edge into their dreary Victorian everyday life. Above all else, this man is constantly searching for something, anything, that feels fresh and entertaining.
"Ah... audacity with a noble purpose. You know, sunshine, most people twist themselves inside out trying to appear polite and pleasant, while you proudly display your claws instead. I can certainly appreciate that kind of honesty."
His compliments can be difficult to decipher. They sound suspiciously similar to insults. Or maybe they're insult-compliments? Either way, he's an absolute master at them.
Doctor
One heavy sigh and an instant headache from the sheer amount of metal decorating your body.
One glance at your decorative safety pins, heavy spiked belts, towering platform boots, and dark makeup is enough for the Doctor to see a walking tetanus hazard and an ergonomic nightmare. He doesn't particularly care about fashion, he's far more concerned with the sheer number of potentially dangerous accessories.
He'll practically burn holes through your spiked jacket with his glare while sternly reminding you about the dangers of sharp metal edges around delicate medical equipment or careless people.
Still, deep down, he's impressed by your high pain tolerance and unwavering dedication to your style, especially when he notices your elaborate black acrylic nails adorned with intricate embellishments.
If you ever get a scrape or a small cut, he'll disinfect and treat it with cold, precise professionalism, though he might secretly admire how good your leather jacket looks draped over the back of his chair while he works.
If you wear genuine leather, he'll quietly approve, he happens to enjoy the smell for some reason. Faux leather, however, is another story entirely.
"Safety pins as jewelry... metal spikes on your footwear... Do you have any idea how much unnecessary strain you're placing on your joints? And if someone accidentally bumps into you? Someone could lose an eye... Though I must admit, the structural integrity of this leather is remarkably practical."
Ticket Taker
The Ticket Taker couldn't care less about fashion trends, but he understands durability.
You look sturdy, confident, and fully capable of defending yourself if necessary. He respects people who don't appear soft, provided they have basic manners and don't create unnecessary trouble.
He's calm around you, though he keeps an eye on you whenever other people are nearby. It's not because he distrusts you, your abundance of spikes and heavy accessories simply make him think someone could accidentally get hurt or snag themselves on something.
If you ever need help repairing a broken chain on your boot or adjusting a heavy belt, he'll silently pull out a pair of hefty pliers (why exactly does he carry those around?) and fix everything without saying another word.
"Good boots. Thick leather. You look like you can handle yourself... But if anyone starts giving you trouble, let me know. I don't tolerate pointless scenes."
Fun Fact: No matter what style you wear, the very first thing he notices is always your shoes.
Can I request a Tfc cast x Reader where the cast reacts to an MC who's violently gyaru? More specifically, they're a tsuyome gyaru (or any gyaru substyle you choose). The reader is always dressed head-to-toe in glamorous gyaru fashion with dramatic makeup, huge lashes, long decorated nails, teased hair, platform shoes, flashy accessories, and an unapologetically confident attitude. Everyone initially assumes they're intimidating or mean because of how bold they look, but they're actually friendly, funny, and genuinely kind. I'd love to see each member of the cast's individual reaction as they get to know the reader and realize there's much more to them than their appearance.
I love when requests are this precisely described. Sure. This gyaru style really have aura. I could never wear this but everyone else is gorgeous. Let's try.
Dadme fuerza, vosotros, los despiadados
[I giggled cuz of your previous requests]
MC’s style: BRIGHT SHOWING Tsuyome Gyaru
+ strong "bitchy" vibe, but appearances are deceiving.
Intimidated and overwhelmed. Pierrot needs just one look at your intense makeup, dark lips, and sharp acrylic nails to instantly recoil, convinced you’re about to scold him or mock his gloomy demeanor. You walk straight up to him, flash a wide, beaming smile, and loudly ask if he wants half of your snack. He freezes, completely caught off guard. Pierrot quickly realizes that your bold look isn’t a weapon, it’s a declaration of absolute self-love and pure joy. He gets terribly flustered when you casually compliment his vintage buttons or tell him his hair looks awesome. Every time you burst out laughing at something funny, he listens with a soft smile, mesmerized by how someone who looks like a dangerous dark princess brings so much light into the tent. If he feels insecure, you don't hesitate to be the first to boost his self-esteem, making him blush to the tips of his ears.
"I... I must confess. I thought you’d find it unpleasant to be around someone as gloomy as me. But your heart shines so brightly, my dear. You wear your strength on the outside, but your kindness shines even brighter," he admits one day.
Likely, it’s not just about the style, your individual aura paired with this aesthetic reinforces the subconscious feeling that you're not one to mince words. Naturally, he’ll be wary at first, but he’ll definitely try to make contact with you. However, you beat him to it, which is so much better. At the end of the day, "don't judge a book by its cover." After this incident, he wouldn't even dream of making a superficial judgment again.
Harlequin
Ready for a verbal duel! Harlequin sees your brazen glare, platform boots, and sharp nails and thinks: "Finally! Someone with enough of a mischievous vibe to trade witty jabs with!"
(Millennial insertion: "Finally, a worthy opponent. Our battle will be legendary!").
He tries to pick a fight or drop a sarcastic comment about your massive eyelashes, expecting you to snap back with venom. Instead, you just burst out laughing, slap his shoulder, making your dozen plastic and metal bangles jingle loudly wink, and tease him right back. He is utterly obsessed. You didn't take the bait, you didn't get offended, and you instantly treated him like an old friend. He loves showing off in front of you because you give a wild reaction instead of ignoring him.
When you offer to paint his nails or fix his messy collar with a smile, he falls unusually quiet for a second, touched by how genuinely sweet you are despite your aggressive style to the point he almost wants to break that beauty. He appoints himself as your personal bodyguard (he just needs an excuse to get on Pierrot's nerves anyway) and proudly strides alongside your tall platforms like a chaotic circus prince.
"HA! I thought you were gonna scratch my eyes out, but you're a total riot! Hey, show me again how you open a soda can with those giant claws, that was insane!"
Yes, he will definitely ask how you manage in the bathroom with those nails and ask to be a witness to it.
Jester
Extremely intrigued, but cautious. Jester reads people professionally. He sees the sharp eyeliner, precise makeup, and bold leopard print, assuming you’re a bossy diva using a flashy appearance to dominate everyone in the room. Not on his watch, babe! He observes you from afar, waiting for the "bitchy" mask to slip. Instead, he catches you squatting in your fluffy leopard-print skirt, saving a bug so no one steps on it, cooing at it in a sweet voice. He almost chokes on his own laughter. Cute, makes him a little sick, honestly, but harmless at least. Jester loves an unconventional plot twist. You’ve built an impenetrable, showstopping fortress out of style, but on the inside, you're pure warmth. He loves having witty conversations with you. You’re confident enough to take his playful teasing without getting defensive, which he finds incredibly refreshing.
He casually compliments your aesthetic, respecting the hours of labor it takes to look that striking every day. He gets a quiet thrill out of watching narrow-minded circus visitors shrink away from your look, only for you to charm them in five seconds flat with your infectious laugh.
"Well, well... a tigress on the outside, a teddy bear on the inside. You know, you had the whole circus shaking in their boots, sunshine. I respect that level of power."
Doctor
Extreme skepticism and irritation. He takes one look at your tan, bold makeup, giant platforms, and four-inch acrylic nails and sees a walking ergonomic disaster who probably complains about everything. Well, problem patients are a dime a dozen. The main thing is knowing how to handle them. When he’s injured or drowning in paperwork, you don’t whine or stay out of the way, you stride decisively into his medical tent with a cold drink, pull up a chair, and start organizing his chaotic desk with your long nails at crazy speed and dexterity, chatting cheerfully all the while.
His brain literally short-circuits. He expected a high-maintenance diva, but got an insanely useful, practical, and kind force of nature instead, even if your way of expressing yourself is a bit specific. He pretends to lecture you about the dangers of walking on 6-inch platforms over uneven circus gravel, but secretly makes sure his office floors are swept so you don't trip. He is fascinated by how you complete complex tasks with long nails, silently watching you work while secretly enjoying your cheerful chatter breaking up his dreary silence. He seriously wonders if such a style and imposing complications for the sake of beauty, actually develops fine motor skills. In the end, he comes to genuinely respect your uncompromising self-confidence.
"I expected a demanding burden. Instead, you are surprisingly efficient, strikingly observant, and... absurdly kind. A highly unexpected combination."
Ticket Taker
Stoic caution. Ticket Taker sees your loud, flashy accessories, high heels, and intense gaze, deciding you're going to be trouble or at the very least, a noise nuisance at the gates. Extra hassle he really doesn't want to deal with. He tries to move a heavy wooden crate when you run up in your giant platforms, grab one end without hesitation, help him lift it, and throw up a signature peace sign: "Got it covered, big guy!"
"Big guy"????
He is completely won over. Ticket Taker values actions over words, and seeing someone so glamorous not afraid to roll up their sleeves and help touches his silent heart. He instantly grows far more fond of you. He silently hands you a bottle of water or clears a path for your high heels without a word, giving only a stoic nod in response to your bright smile and thanks. He thinks your style is pretty flashy, but it doesn't define who you are as a person.
"People judge too quickly. You have a good heart... And don't listen to anyone telling you to look more modest."
Well, given the nature of his job, judging by appearances is routine for him, but he won't take his thoughts any further unless there are actions to back them up. To him, the main thing is that a person is grounded and low-maintenance, how they look is none of his business. His only job is to offer a kind gesture and leave it at that.
I have read all your TFC Style Headcanons and I would like to request this.
May I please request an MC whose style is Lolita, more preferably Sweet Lolita, you could add other styles of Lolita to balance out the Sweet Lolita Style. If you don't want too that's completely fine.
Hi! Good morning!
Really? That's great! Hope you liked it. I try my best even if I myself can not fully understand the aesthetic, heh...
Lolita... my dream which never come true. I really love this style but the price and how hard it to be one never let me to join. And honestly, the style itself is awesome but the community makes me sick. Maybe it only in my country but all lolitas I met were really aggressive and so protective about their style. Not only to other people they find basic but to the others lolitas the call "larp" , "cheap" or something... the community close to Jiraya... Well, I'm not talking about everyone. Let's leave this behind and start.
Absolute, quiet delight. Pierrot's eyes light up the very second he sees you in your perfectly fitted corset, cascading ruffles, and delicate pastel prints. To him, you look like a living porcelain doll or a fairytale princess who somehow stepped straight out of the pages of a storybook and into the circus grounds. He approaches with unmistakable admiration, clasping his hands together almost prayerfully as he marvels at the craftsmanship of your dress.
"Ah... forgive my staring, my dear, but you're simply enchanting! Every ribbon, every delicate fold of lace... it's like holding a work of art in your hands. Absolutely mesmerizing."
Pierrot quickly becomes your greatest protector. He understands better than anyone how delicate and expensive your clothes are, so he'll dust off benches before you sit down or hold a large parasol over you to shield you from the sun or the rain if it starts drizzling. If you decide to wear a Classic Lolita coordinate in rich wine reds or muted navy blues, he'll be certain to compliment how regal you look. He treats you with the gentlest, most chivalrous devotion imaginable.
Once again, he adores the contrast. He's the dark storm cloud, and you're a fluffy little cloud drifting beside him. No matter what kind of Lolita fashion you wear, it fills him with affection and reminds him of a princess.
Harlequin
Harlequin takes one look at your bell-shaped skirt, adorable hair bows, and sweet prints, strawberries, tea parties, teddy bears and immediately decides you're the most entertaining person in the troupe. He appears seemingly out of nowhere, sweeps into an exaggerated bow, then springs back up and playfully pokes at your fluffy petticoat.
"Whoa, that's a lot of layers! Are you hiding a secret stash of pastries under there, or are you just a walking cupcake?"
He absolutely loves how vibrant you look beside him, though he never misses an opportunity to tease you for resembling a walking dessert. Harlequin tries matching his chaotic energy to your sweetness by offering classic circus treats like cotton candy or caramel apples though Pierrot will immediately scold him if he gets anywhere near your expensive dresses with sticky fingers.
Secretly, he's fascinated by the construction of your crinolines and petticoats, and during games of hide-and-seek he might even try hiding behind your skirt (or under).
He mainly likes Lolita fashion because it reminds him of things that are soft, sweet, or delicious, even if he doesn't really understand why someone would want to dress like that. Even minimalist Lolita coordinates seem a little over-the-top to him. Still, regardless of what style you wear, you subconsciously make him see you as either a spoiled tsundere noblewoman or an adorably clueless sweetheart.
Jester
Jester deeply respects the painstaking effort, discipline, and dedication required to wear full Lolita fashion every single day. He understands that beneath all the lace and ruffles lies a thoughtful and deliberate form of self-expression.
He's usually perched somewhere high above, idly twirling a ribbon between his fingers while watching you adjust a bow in front of a mirror, a sly, admiring grin spreading across his face.
"A doll's facade wrapped in lace and ribbons. Delightfully theatrical, little cake. You wear your armor exceptionally well."
He sees your style almost like the costume of a refined performer. If one day you lean toward Gothic Lolita, with black lace, crosses, and dark Victorian silhouettes, Jester practically purrs with approval at the darker, more dramatic change.
He enjoys playfully flirting by giving theatrical bows and calling you "My Lady" or "Princess," delighting in how your carefully crafted appearance stands out against the dull circus backstage. He genuinely loves things like this, unusual, lovingly crafted, visually beautiful, and rich with their own unique aesthetic. What fascinates him most is that Lolita isn't just a fashion style with one rigid concept—it's an entire philosophy and lifestyle. You can be countless different kinds of Lolita, in different colors, with varying levels of complexity and completely different interpretations.For some reason, being around you occasionally awakens something in him that most people would probably call a maternal instinct.
Doctor
His eyes immediately perform an analytical assessment of your silhouette before shifting into intense concern over the maintenance of your clothing. He studies the layered petticoats, delicate lace trims, and ornate cuffs, mentally calculating the staggering amount of work required to keep everything immaculate. Then he steps closer to inspect the weave of the lace with a stern, clinical gaze.
"Absurd... The amount of starch, ironing, and delicate washing required to maintain such an elaborate outfit in a dusty circus environment is utterly unreasonable! How do you even manage to keep the hems clean?!"
Despite all his grumbling, the Doctor sincerely respects your impeccable neatness and dedication to keeping your dresses in flawless condition. He'll strictly forbid anyone with dirty hands from even approaching your wardrobe. If you accidentally snag a piece of delicate lace on a sharp crate or corner, he'll sigh heavily, retrieve his finest surgical needles, and repair the damage so perfectly that even you won't be able to tell where it had been torn.
Aesthetically, he finds your fashion beautiful.
Practically, it gives him nightmares.
For some reason, your style makes him want to have long, intellectual conversations with you.
Ticket Taker
Quiet, protective admiration.
The Ticket Taker is an enormous, towering figure, so seeing someone dressed in such delicate, colorful, and voluminous clothing immediately makes him incredibly gentle and careful around you. He looks down at you, taking in the pastel colors, parasol, and ribbons before giving a slow, restrained nod.
"Very pretty. Watch your skirt around the wagon wheels, kid. Wouldn't want it getting covered in grease."
The two of you create the sweetest visual contrast in the entire circus, a towering giant dressed in heavy, dark clothing standing beside a pastel-clad Lolita surrounded by clouds of ruffles.
He naturally becomes your silent bodyguard around the circus grounds. If rain turns the paths into mud, he'll gently take you by the arm, careful not to wrinkle your petticoat and carry you across every puddle without hesitation so your spotless socks and polished shoes remain perfectly clean. It's as though he's escorting a proper young lady.
If we think more deeply about which Lolita styles or substyles each of them would probably prefer:
Pierrot: Wa Lolita / Gothic Lolita (with elements of Shiro Lolita) / Classic Lolita
Harlequin: Carnival / Circus Lolita (Gothic or Classic substyle)
Could you please write the TFC cast with a grunge reader? I rarely ever see grunge representation in x reader fics, and I think it'd be such a fun contrast with the characters. I'd absolutely love to read your take on it!
Thank you, and have a great day! ♡ But if its not smth u wont write plz ignore this!
Sure. I was a part of Grunge myself in past. It was a painful experience. The style is definitely not for everyone or not that hyper-forced as others.
Grunge MC x TFC
Pierrot
Pierrot's heart genuinely aches for you just for all the wrong (yet incredibly sweet) reasons. The moment he notices your ripped jeans, hems held together with safety pins, and an intentionally oversized, worn-out sweater, his eyes widen with deep concern. He sincerely believes you're struggling financially and simply can't afford proper clothes. He approaches you with his trademark gentle, anxious shyness, carefully offering you a sewing kit or insisting on buying you a new coat.
"My dear... aren't you cold in this night air? Please, let me mend those holes in your sleeves..."
When you patiently explain, "No, Pierrot, it's supposed to look like this. It's a style," he becomes terribly embarrassed. He doesn't entirely understand why anyone would pay for torn fabric, but the moment he realizes it's your way of expressing yourself, he treats it with the deepest respect. He'll start noticing the little aesthetic details like the way your silver chains catch the light and will secretly make sure no one at the circus accidentally throws away your favorite "ragged" jacket after mistaking it for an old cleaning rag.
Harlequin
Harlequin absolutely loves it. To him, your muted dark colors and heavy boots look like a walking rebellion against the rules and that's exactly his kind of thing. The second you walk by with headphones around your neck, thick black eyeliner, and a dark flannel tied around your waist, he's already circling you like an overexcited puppy.
"Well, well! Look at you! Did you just walk straight out of a '90s garage rock audition? I love it! Can I jump around in those giant combat boots of yours?!"
(You'll say yes, he's only asking out of courtesy.)
He'll constantly try to steal your oversized shirts to wear them like dramatic capes before eventually returning them smelling like cotton candy and circus makeup. He finds the contrast between his dazzling clown costume and your calm, gloomy grunge aesthetic absolutely hilarious. Prepare for him to dramatically flop all over you while you're quietly sitting there, determined to make you crack even the tiniest smile beneath your stoic expression. And if you listen to grunge or alternative rock, he'll absolutely demand one of your earbuds and enthusiastically headbang to bands he's hearing for the very first time.
Jester
Jester appreciates the quiet, rebellious energy you carry. While everyone else in the circus is covered in bright costumes, feathers, and glitter, you simply walk in looking completely unfazed, perfectly comfortable in your own skin. He'll perch somewhere high above, watching with an amused, knowing grin as you absentmindedly spin the pin of your favorite band on your jacket or adjust your heavy boots.
"Interesting... You manage to draw every eye in the tent without even trying, little shadow. Quite the unfocused trick."
He sees your style as a cleverly crafted mask, much like his own only yours is expressed through dark layers, silver accessories, and worn leather instead of theatrical makeup. He enjoys subtle games of wit with you. Every now and then, he might casually swipe one of your rings or jacket pins just to see your reaction, only to slip it back into your pocket with a wink a moment later. Your laid-back indifference feels like a breath of fresh air amid the circus's endless drama.
Though, to be honest, neither your style nor your demeanor is entirely his preference. He naturally gravitates toward brighter, flashier aesthetics, but anything new is bound to catch his attention.
Doctor
Pure, unfiltered clinical irritation followed by an intensely critical inspection. The Doctor takes one look at your ripped fishnet tights, frayed denim, and heavy leather boots, and his eye immediately starts twitching. His obsession with cleanliness is offended on both a psychological and aesthetic level. He marches over in pristine white gloves, pointing directly at your ragged hem with an expression of utter disgust.
"Unbelievable. The amount of dust and potential bacteria clinging to those frayed threads is a direct threat to sanitation! And why are your knees exposed?!"
He'll constantly lecture you about proper insulation, hygiene, and durable stitching. Over time, however, he'll secretly grow accustomed to your dark color palette. If the hole in your favorite grunge cardigan turns out to be accidental, he'll snatch it out of your hands with an irritated grumble and repair it with frightening surgical precision, insisting he's only doing it so you'll "stop looking like a biological hazard." He would never admit it, but your calm, grounded presence has an oddly soothing effect on his frayed nerves.
Truthfully, he simply doesn't like the style. You could even say it irritates him. To him, it's just too... dirty.
Ticket Taker
Complete mutual understanding without a single word. The Ticket Taker is a quiet giant, and the sight of someone who prefers dark, practical, durable clothing immediately earns his respect. He slowly gives an approving nod, his gaze lingering on your combat boots and layered dark outfit.
"Good boots. Practical. Mud doesn't cling."
The two of you make the perfect quiet duo. While the rest of the circus is shouting and running around, you're often found sitting beside his booth in comfortable silence. He especially appreciates that you don't wear eye-searing neon colors that give him headaches.Well... at first, he honestly mistook you for a surprisingly well-kept homeless person. He likes your color palette, sure, but most importantly, you don't make a mess.
raccoon hybrid!reader and TFC cast meeting for the first time cuz they catch the reader digging thru their trash looking for something to eat (either as the actual animal cuz I feel like hybrids could change from the animal they are mixed with or just as a regular degular hybrid) AM I COOKING WITH THIS OR WHAT
👀👀👀
Hi! Hi! Hi there!
You definitely do, really cool request but I need more specifics.
Honestly, it deserves whole fic and everything depends on specifics moments of the "hybrid" look.
Honestly, I had lots of thoughts, but to put it all in one post including all characters is kinda hard. Like, 5 fics in one is a lot, haha. So, I made short version of how the acquaintance would probably go. It can be assessed as the short backstory for some fic or something like that? Anyways, I still didn't do it as I wanted to. I really like the idea tho I'll probably write a fic (or similar but shorter) later with this request cuz as I said it has potential more for a whole story than just some headcanons.
Anyways, let's start.
MC: A human-raccoon hybrid.
First meeting takes place while MC is raiding the trash cans.
He steps out into the cool night air to catch his breath in the silence, only to hear a sharp CLANG-CLINK near the supply crates. He freezes, raising his lantern. A mix of soft-hearted shock and deep concern.
If you're in your full raccoon form, his eyes widen: "Ah... a little night creature wearing a robber's mask..."
But then you shift into your hybrid form or reveal your ears and tail, and he nearly drops his lantern out of sheer, overwhelming embarrassment for you. Pierrot isn't angry at all. On the contrary, a wave of profound sympathy washes over him. He instantly comes to the conclusion that you were abandoned, starved, or mistreated in the cruel outside world. He quietly drops to his knees, extending a pale hand with incredible caution, as if terrified of scaring off a stray kitten.
"Oh... my dear, please don't run! You don't have to eat out of the trash... Are you alright? Are you hungry? Stay right there, I... I promise to find you proper food."
It's the first time he's ever seen anything like you, but he's already utterly enchanted. It looks so unusual, yet he is deeply concerned for your fate and lifestyle since, being both animal and human, you're forced to rummage through trash cans. He will do everything he can not to spook you so he can lead you to his tent and help you. Even if you protest, he will personally catch you and drag you inside.
Harlequin
Honestly, he was just lurking in the shadows himself, trying to escape his duties, when he caught the rustling sound. He sneaks up, pops out from behind a crate, and yells: "BOO!"
Absolute hysterics. He laughs so hard he has to hold his stomach. If you puff up your fluffy raccoon tail, hiss at him, or try to scramble up a wooden post with your nimble little claws, he'll consider it the funniest sight of his life. He immediately starts teasing you, pointing at whatever trash you're holding: "Is that a half-eaten pretzel?! Truly a feast fit for royalty!"
He won't let you leave. He blocks your path with dramatic lunges, fascinated by your lightning-fast reflexes and that little bandit mask on your face.
"HA! Look what the night dragged in! A little bandit robbing the circus supplies! Go on, show me your teeth again, that was hilarious! What else do you have in your pockets, shorty?"
He's genuinely envious, he'd love to have a unique trait like that, too. He thinks it's cool and hilarious, though judging by the fact that you're digging through garbage, it clearly isn't helping you much in life. He isn't exactly burning with a desire to help or feed you, but having fun and studying you is definitely in his best interest. Perhaps, if you're brave enough to keep coming back, you could become night-owl buddies later on. After this encounter, Harlequin will take a little stroll around the circus grounds every single night, "casually" checking every trash can in hopes of finding another amusing guest.
Jester
He knew you were there ten minutes before anyone else even noticed. He was simply sitting on the roof of a nearby wagon in the dark, watching your scavenges with a smirk.
Just as you think you've hit the jackpot (a slightly stale bun), a voice rings out right above your head: "You know, the baker around the corner leaves the tastiest pastries on the windowsill at about 3 PM."
You leap out of your skin, your tail puffing up to twice its size. Jester just chuckles softly and gracefully drops down to your eye level.
He respects fellow creatures of the night who know how to survive through cunning, agility, and nimble paws. He immediately starts calculating just how useful your quick hybrid tendencies could be around here.
"Relax, little thief. I'm not going to turn you in. Though I must say... for a creature known for stealth, you make an awful lot of noise with those tin lids."
He believes such an unusual individual definitely has potential as a member of the troupe, despite all your other quirks. Anything new piques his interest. As a polite gesture and without any pressure, he might try to invite you inside for a bite to eat. Yes? Awesome. No? Oh well. It's all out of pure curiosity.
Doctor
He was heading back to his medical tent carrying a tray of test tubes when he heard suspicious scuffling near the kitchen dumpsters. A mix of hygienic horror and profound biological curiosity.
"DROP THAT THIS INSTANT."
His voice cuts through the darkness like a scalpel. He advances on you with alarming, clinical speed, putting on white gloves as he walks. He is utterly appalled that you're shoving trash food into your mouth
("Do you have any idea how many pathogens are breeding on that moldy crust?!").
However, the moment he realizes you are a hybrid, blessed with animal instincts, night vision, and unique physical traits, his analytical brain kicks into overdrive. He immediately scruffs/grabs you by the collar (like a mother cat) to drag you into his pristine tent for a full examination and proper food.
"Fascinating... a chimera with raccoon traits. Throw that trash away immediately! You are coming with me, you need to be properly sanitized and fed. I will not allow a biological marvel to perish from food poisoning in our backyard."
He has conflicting feelings. A new, incredible specimen, yet such a microbial catastrophe.
Ticket Taker
He is making his final night rounds with a heavy iron lantern and a thick wooden staff when he hears a trash can lid slam shut. A heavy, stoic silence follows, succeeded by a sigh. He looms over the dumpsters, casting a massive shadow over your small, scruffy figure. You freeze with a half-eaten apple, expecting to be chased off or yelled at. Instead, the giant just looks down at you for a long, quiet moment.
He doesn't raise his voice, doesn't scold you, and doesn't look disgusted. He reaches into his heavy pocket, pulls out a piece of wrapped beef jerky or a thick slab of hearty bread from his own rations, and silently hands it to you.
"Don't eat out of the bin, you'll poison yourself. Here, eat this. ...Got somewhere to sleep tonight, kid, or are you staying with us?"
There's probably very little left in this world that could shock him. Nevertheless, he isn't heartless. His main priority is that you don't make a racket. He'll likely keep feeding you without forcing help onto you, but he won't refuse if you ask him for a place to sleep, a shower, or a meal.
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Hi! When I saw you wrote about a Decora MC, I couldn't help but want to make a request myself.
I love gyaru style, and I’d love to see the TFC cast's reaction to a gyaru MC (specifically, agejo gyaru).
It might be a bit of an unusual request, but I just couldn't help myself—thanks! :D✨️
Hiiii! Agejo gyaru, omg. I love gyaru style too! Every.single.one of them. Let's try. This style is giving feminine strength. I hope I coughed it well!
A quiet sense of awe mixed with deep, poetic admiration. Pierrot, who understands better than anyone how much effort goes into maintaining a stage persona, is utterly captivated by you. To him, you resemble a porcelain dolla living work of art. He's enchanted by your voluminous, perfectly styled hair, your elegant lace dresses, and your glamorous outfits. He treats you with incredible gentleness, constantly worrying about wrinkling your ruffles or snagging your lace.
Whenever you flash the iconic "V" (peace sign ✌️) or touch up your makeup, he watches with quiet curiosity, admiring how confident and flawless you are. If you ever ask him to hold your lip gloss or help tighten the back of your corset, he'll blush furiously and assist you with the utmost care and respect.
"You carry yourself like royalty or like a treasured collector's doll. Every detail of your outfit is so thoughtfully crafted, so exquisitely refined. You're a true masterpiece, my sunshine."
Pierrot is simple at heart, he loves you no matter what. But if this is your personal style, he's twice as enchanted. Agejo Gyaru is glamorous, elegant, and undeniably feminine, focusing less on looking "cute" and more on embodying graceful beauty. He adores the colors and combinations typical of the style, and simply seeing you brightens his mood in an inexplicable way, as though you were Diva's very pillar of support.
The details he notices most are the lace and ruffles. To him, they're the very foundation of the aesthetic. And if you're part of that style, then everything related to you should match it. Before giving you any gift, he'll quietly decorate it with lace and little frills. It's almost comical to imagine him sitting at four in the morning with a plush teddy bear in one hand and a sewing needle in the other, painstakingly stitching tiny lace trims and ruffles onto the poor bear.
Harlequin
A loud whistle, a sly grin, and endless amusement. Harlequin absolutely loves people who dress to turn heads and leave everyone staring. He instantly recognizes that luxurious, high-maintenance aura and finds it hilariously entertaining to see someone who looks like the queen of an upscale nightclub standing in the middle of a dusty circus arena.
He constantly teases you about your nails, carefully poking at your impossibly long acrylics decorated with rhinestones.
"Seriously, how do you even open doors with those claws? Want me to do it for you, Princess?"
He'll flirt with you just to see if he can crack your cool, self-assured composure, though secretly he respects how you refuse to let even a single speck of dust ruin your appearance. Every time you pull out your compact mirror to fix your eyeliner, he'll lean over your shoulder and strike the most dramatic poses in the reflection.
"Well, would you look at that! All dolled up in lace and roses! Are we headed to a royal ball, or did you simply get lost on your way to the palace? I like it!"
Jester
An appraising smile and an immediate understanding of your "armor." Jester sees Agejo Gyaru for what it truly is: a carefully crafted aesthetic of elegance, seduction, and strength. He knows exactly how much dedication, skill, and time it takes to look that immaculate every single day.
He'll tease you with dry sarcasm, often calling you "Your Majesty" or "Princess" (even if you're a guy) while giving exaggerated little bows. He's genuinely impressed by how you manage to cross the circus grounds without getting a single speck of mud on your black lace heels or disturbing your elaborate hairstyle.
He especially enjoys watching you interact with people. Agejo Gyaru naturally carries an aura of effortless confidence, and Jester absolutely lives for the moments when you effortlessly put arrogant circus visitors in their place with nothing more than a flick of your fan or a dismissive glance.
"Now that's what I call presentation. Towering hair, razor-sharp nails, and enough confidence to make royalty look ordinary. You certainly know how to captivate an audience, don't you?"
Doctor
A heavy sigh followed by genuine concern for your physical ergonomics and hygiene. The Doctor looks at your towering hairstyle, tight corset, and extravagantly decorated nails and sees nothing less than a walking medical anomaly. How does your neck support all that hair? How do you perform basic everyday tasks with those acrylic nails? He'll literally inspect your nails through a magnifying glass, fascinated by how securely the rhinestones are attached to the acrylic. Expect long lectures about circulation.
"That corset restricts the movement of your lower ribs by at least fifteen percent. Furthermore, those heels dramatically alter your center of gravity."
Despite all his medical grumbling, he'll always make sure his office is spotless whenever you visit so your delicate pink-and-black lace outfits never have to touch anything dirty.
"Fascinating. You've willingly sacrificed mobility and fine motor skills in pursuit of an aesthetic ideal. The psychology behind such labor-intensive self-decoration is truly remarkable... even if your footwear is an orthopedic nightmare."
Ticket Taker
A long, stoic stare, a quiet grunt, and an immediate offer of his hand so you don't trip.
The Ticket Keeper has no idea what "Agejo" or "Gyaru" means, but he immediately recognizes someone who looks elegant and refined. You appear expensive, delicate, and completely out of place inside the dusty circus tent, instantly triggering his protective instincts.
Without saying much, he'll quietly move rocks, ropes, and scattered debris out of your path so your heels won't catch. Around you, he's unusually quiet, even a little flustered by your glamorous appearance, though he treats you with old-fashioned chivalry.
"Watch your step, miss/sir. The ground's uneven."
He doesn't really understand it. All that effort... just for beauty? It seems impractical and incredibly time-consuming. Every time your hairstyle catches on something, you break a nail, or your heel gets stuck somewhere, he wonders why anyone would put themselves through that. But if it makes you happy, who is he to tell you otherwise?
I just read about your decora and gyaru MC and I was thinking if you can make goth MC (trad or romantic goth you choose!!)
Anyways take care of yourself 🫶
Gothic always was and will stay my favourite. I really love how many styles of goth exist but it makes me cry because people hyped on Goth style and sexualised this incredible style and now we have tiktok corny Goths... Okay, let's don't talk about sad parts. My favourite Goth style is cyber-goth. I made lots of OC with this style. Romantic and traditional are also magnificent, but I prefer romantic. Let's start!
A deep, quiet sigh, followed by complete and heartfelt romantic admiration. Pierrot carries all the melancholy in the world upon his shoulders, so seeing someone who embraces sorrow, poetry, dark elegance, and the beauty of decay feels like discovering a kindred spirit. To him, you look like a tragic poem brought to life. He treats you with incredible tenderness and reverence, as though he's afraid that if he reaches out to touch you, you'll dissolve like a ghost or transform into a bat and disappear into the night.
He'll secretly leave withered black roses or handwritten poetic notes on your vanity or in your favorite quiet corner. If you ever quote classic Gothic literature or invite him to sit with you in peaceful melancholy while heavy rain pours outside, his heart will melt completely.
"You carry the dark beauty of midnight within your soul. In a world so obsessed with blinding light, your presence feels like a quiet, poetic sanctuary, my little bat."
Out of every fashion style, Romantic Goth is the one closest to Pierrot's own heart. If he were an ordinary human, he would most likely dress that way himself, which is exactly why your aura captivates him so deeply. Before long, he'll wholeheartedly embrace your lifestyle alongside you.
Harlequin
An exaggerated theatrical bow, followed by a sly, teasing grin. Harlequin adores a good performance, and your dramatic velvet skirts paired with your dark aura are exactly his kind of spectacle. He finds your gloomy, mysterious "vampire" aesthetic incredibly entertaining. He'll dramatically flutter around you pretending to be a ghost, mimicking your slow, graceful walk just to make you smile beneath your black lace veil.
Expect him to artistically drop to one knee and offer you a black thorned rose or a polished silver skull pendant while passionately proclaiming his "eternal devotion" half as a joke, half as shameless flirting. He'll constantly try sneaking up on you from the shadows, insisting that two creatures of the night are obligated to play hide-and-seek.
"Oho! Look at you! Did you just crawl out of a Victorian crypt, or did you simply arrive to make everyone else look hopelessly uncultured by comparison? Either way, I'm absolutely delighted!"
To Harlequin, the Gothic worldview is something of an amusing game. Deep down, your appearance can occasionally irritate him, simply because he unconsciously associates you with Pierrot, which makes him itch to pull some sort of prank on you. Even so, he won't deny that he finds it genuinely beautiful.
(On a less pleasant note - he also finds Goth culture sexy in dirty way.)
Jester
Jester respects anyone who uses fashion as both art and armor. To him, Romantic Goth isn't just clothing, it's an impenetrable castle built from lace, dark velvet, and secrets. He enjoys exchanging elegant, witty conversations with you, deliberately using grand, dramatic language to match your Gothic presence.
He'll notice how effortlessly you blend into the shadows beneath the circus tents and quietly chuckle every time you accidentally frighten an unsuspecting visitor simply by standing perfectly still in a dark corner like an antique statue. He admires your composure. While everyone else finds the circus eerie or terrifying, you simply glance around and call it "a charming atmosphere."
"Ah... a true connoisseur of the macabre. Most people flee from darkness, yet you wear it like a royal mantle. You belong in this mad circus better than any of us, my dear."
This style isn't exactly one he'd wear himself, but Goths are among his favorite kinds of people. It's one of the few aesthetics where he isn't fascinated by the clothes or artistry alone, he's fascinated by the people themselves. He finds Goths to be wonderfully engaging conversationalists with unique perspectives on life, and he deeply respects their unwavering devotion to their culture, from their appearance to the way they live.
Doctor
A calm, analytical raise of the eyebrow, followed by sincere aesthetic approval. Out of everyone, Doctor is probably the least surprised by your appearance, as it strongly echoes his own restrained and refined Victorian tastes. He considers your devotion to dark elegance far more sophisticated than loud neon colors or chaotic palettes.
He'll compliment your dark wardrobe and high collars, casually noting that thick velvet provides excellent insulation against the damp circus drafts. Should you ever begin discussing darker moments of history, Victorian mourning customs, or anatomy, you'll immediately have his full attention. He may even invite you to share a cup of strong, bitter tea served in a vintage porcelain teacup, appreciating the rare atmosphere of quiet intellect you bring into his office.
"Refined. Disciplined. It's refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the elegance of darkness instead of clinging to meaningless brightness. Exquisite taste."
Ticket Taker
A long, slow glance, complete understanding, and a silent tip of his cap. The Ticket Taker understands the value of mystery and keeping one's distance. Your quiet, graceful, shadowed presence commands respect without ever demanding attention. To him, you appear dignified and noble, someone who deserves peace.
Without saying a word, he'll make sure the lanterns along your path aren't burning too brightly, instinctively sensing your preference for dim light. He'll treat you with reserved, old-fashioned chivalry, holding heavy doors open for you and making sure your long flowing velvet skirts never catch on the circus stakes.
"As though this night itself was made for you... Pay no mind to all the noise, miss/sir. If you ever need somewhere quiet, my booth is always open."
This is perhaps the only fashion style that genuinely catches his attention and earns his wholehearted admiration. After all, this appearance reflects a particular way of living, which in turn shapes a temperament and character that resonate deeply with him. Both your style and your personality would appeal to him greatly, and because of that, you might have a rare chance to grow surprisingly close to him.
The main sponsor of your hydration and inner peace. Silvermist takes the term "water fairy" as literally as possible. If you forget to drink water throughout the day, you will definitely notice your glass magically refilling itself on your desk, complete with tiny, winking bubbles on the surface. When you're feeling stressed or burnt out, she won’t push you back into the fray. Instead, Silvermist will surround you with a sense of cool freshness: she'll arrange for a pleasant, light breeze to blow right through your window, or create a subtle mist smelling of morning dew that instantly melts your anxiety away.
She is protection without a sword and shield. She won’t fight off your bullies with a fearsome blade, but her method of defense is far cleverer. If someone tries to ruin your mood or upset you, that person might "accidentally" spill their coffee, experience a localized ceiling drip right over their head, or catch a neat splash of mud right on their shoe. Silvermist will do this with the most innocent look on her face, before saying in all sincerity
"Oh, it seems nature is in a playful mood today!"
Rain outside your window will never feel gloomy again. Silvermist loves putting together a real droplet orchestra, tapping a rhythm against your windowpane to create the perfect background sound for sleeping, reading, or simply drinking tea.
Speaking of tea: she adores perching on the rim of your mug (at a safe distance from the steam) and adjusting the temperature so you never burn your tongue.
When you take a shower or bath after a long day, the water under her touch feels truly special, as if it’s washing away not just physical tiredness, but all the negative energy you've accumulated throughout the day.
At night, she curls up somewhere nearby, like on the leaves of a houseplant or on the windowsill. If you have a nightmare, Silvermist catches your tears or droplets of sweat, turning them into tiny, glowing dew drops, and whispers soothing stories about quiet forest streams to chase the bad dreams away.
She is terribly sweet, a little spacey, and sometimes takes a philosophical approach to your problems. If you complain about a rough day, she might thoughtfully reply
"You know, mud is just dirt that made really good friends with water. Everything will settle down!"
and strangely enough, it actually makes you feel better.
Even though Fisher's hair falls just below his shoulders, it's far from easy to take care of. It has to be washed at least once or twice a week, brushed every morning and evening, and sometimes even during the day. To save himself the hassle, Sal rarely let anyone touch his hair. You were one of the chosen few. You braided everything from cute little pigtails to neat braids, idly ran the strands through your fingers while admiring their unnatural color, and gave him gentle scalp massages. That last one, by the way, was his favorite. The strap of his prosthetic wasn't exactly kind to the back of his head. It constantly pressed against his skull, leaving David tense almost all the time. More than anything, Sal loved it when your nails lightly traced over his scalp. Sometimes he'd even curl up with his head in your lap, Gizmo-style, simply enjoying the magic of your hands.
He's the kind of man who deliberately bought open-ear earbuds instead of in-ear ones just so you could listen to music together
It's no secret that Fisher is a fan of aggressive, hard-hitting metal and expressive rock. Not exactly the kind of music you'd imagine as the soundtrack to a romantic bus ride or a peaceful walk through the park. At least, that's what Sal believed. As it turns out, though, any song can become a love confession or at the very least, your song, when you listen to it with someone you love. So when, on a quiet evening, he sat beside you with one earbud in, an arm draped around your shoulders while you nodded along to the guitar riffs and absentmindedly scribbled in your notebook, Sanity's Fall's songs began to mean something entirely different to him.
He's the kind of man who tries to touch you more often
Because of his prosthetic, kisses are a rare thing in your relationship. Usually only when you're completely alone, with no one on the other side of the wall and only Gizmo sleeping peacefully in your lap. But after your relationship began, Sal couldn't help noticing all the other couples around him. Seeing them made him worry that maybe he wasn't giving you enough. Truthfully, there were times when all he wanted was to rip off the prosthetic and kiss you in front of everyone, just to show the world who you belonged with. Back then, though, doing something like that felt almost unthinkable. Still, he wanted to show his affection somehow. He wanted people to know you weren't just walking side by side. So he relied on his rough, calloused hands instead. He'd shyly wrap an arm around you, sometimes so subtly you barely noticed. He'd brush your hair away from your face while you ate. He'd lace his fingers with yours and absentmindedly stroke the back of your hand with his thumb. Looking at him, you'd never guess Fisher could be so touch-starved.
He's the kind of man who instinctively covers your eyes with his hand whenever he kisses you, so you won't have to see his scarred face
It became a habit because that's exactly how your first kiss happened. At first, Fisher simply asked you to close your eyes. But while he was removing his prosthetic, he caught you peeking. Even though he'd already shown you his faceor rather, what remained of it, he still felt embarrassed taking off what most people simply called his mask in front of you. Besides, as he put it, it would've ruined the moment. So Sal gently placed his palm over your eyes before leaning in to kiss you. It was clumsy, awkward even, but unbearably sweet, the kind of kiss that made your chest ache. You probably would've kept kissing that way forever if, one day, you hadn't softly taken hold of his slender wrist and lowered his hand yourself.
He's the kind of man who's endlessly patient when you're struggling to learn something he's teaching you
Despite his intimidating, even unsettling, appearance, Sal is genuinely kind at heart. Unlike many teenagers his age, he loves kids, and he enjoys teaching people new things. So whenever you fumble the guitar chords or mix up the buttons on the Game Boy, he only smiles behind his prosthetic out of habit, knowing you wouldn't be able to see it anyway. In fact, he likes your little failures even more than the moments when you get everything right on the first try. Because it means the two of you get to spend a little more time together.
He's the kind of man who tells you about his dreams
Dreams are a strange thing. Some people believe they reveal a person's feelings and subconscious thoughts. Others think they're nothing more than meaningless images strung together at random. Sal belonged to the first group. Surely his brain couldn't come up with something so bizarre for no reason... right? So instead of keeping everything locked away in his journal, he'd tell you about the stories his mind created each night, trying not to leave out a single detail. At first it was difficult. But with time, he began remembering more and more of them. Because you were always the first person to hear his dreams, he rarely managed to recount them to anyone else in the same detail, by the end of the day, he'd already forgotten half of what had happened. What mattered most to him, though, was knowing that you remembered them. Even the dull ones. Especially the wonderfully surreal ones.
I wanted to ask how you'd think the tfc cast would react to an mc who is VIOLENTLY decora? More specifically, rainbow decora?
Byee! Take care! :D
Hi there! It's nice to see you requesting me again. Means I didn't messed up, ha-ha.
Decora, I'm in love with this style, but it's looks so heavy and hot to wear. Never could be one but I love see them. You have a nice topics to think about, he-he. Let's try...
A complete, staggering sensory overload followed by deep fascination. Pierrot has spent his entire life trapped in the strict, somber, black-and-white expectations of others, hiding his true self behind a mournful mask. Seeing you parade around in forty hair clips, five layered necklaces, neon hair, and rainbow leg warmers without a single shred of shame or fear? He finds it dizzying.
He is terrified to death of accidentally stepping on a fallen bead or catching delicate lace trim on something sharp in the circus tent. Because of this, hugs are always quite an ordeal, yet he always knows where you are, either by a bright pop of color in the distance or by the approaching clatter from 10 kilometers away. Every time you move, a rhythmic clink-clink-clang comes from all your accessories, which he finds strangely soothing after the initial shock.
If you ever offer to clip a small, colorful star hairpin into his dark hair, he will freeze, blush, and quietly let you do it, wearing it proudly for the rest of the day.
"To wear all the colors of the rainbow at once, you carry your inner joy right on the outside, don't you? It's a terrifyingly brave way to live, my dear."
He’s used to eccentricity, but this is a whole new level. He loves your uniqueness and finds your style very inspiring. He is enchanted, he even likes the constant noise you make as you move around. It's unlikely he’ll ever try to copy your style unless you ask him to. He adores simply looking at you and studying every detail of your outfit.
The only issue is that he is afraid to touch you or stand too close despite how much he wants to, he is in absolute panic over messing up something in your chaotic look, which possesses an order he simply cannot comprehend.
Harlequin
Well, his first impression will be a mixed bag. He’s not used to seeing anything like this, it's way too bright, yet incredibly unusual. Harlequin adores anything that shatters the status quo, mocks boring societal norms, and burns the eyes of prudes if they stare for too long. Your style is loud, defiant to puritans, and impossible to ignore.
He will constantly try to swipe small trinkets from your outfit, a plastic bow, a ring, a mini-toy keychain just to see how fast you notice and to tease you a bit. He will use your vivid colors as a visual distraction or a shield. Whenever he's slipping away from trouble, he’ll duck right behind you and announce: "I was merely admiring the aesthetics!"
Expect him to randomly shake your arm or shoulder just to make your plastic bangles jingle loudly.
"Ha! Look at you! You look like a toy store exploded all over you. This is the best thing that’s happened to this dreary place all week!"
Your style amuses him greatly. He thinks it’s weird, but in the best way possible. You are a feast for his eyes, and he loves it. At times, it’s hard for him to look directly at you because of how bright the outfits are, but he enjoys counting the endless variety of accessories on you that seem completely mismatched. It also makes it much easier to spot you from a distance.
Unlike Pierrot, though, he doesn’t stick around for long. It’s hard for him to tolerate just how bright you are, and the noise from your accessories starts to grate on him over time, so your company can occasionally wear him out on a psychological level. He needs to step away and give his eyes and ears a rest before coming back.
Jester
A knowing smirk and a deep respect for "theatricality." To Jester, any outfit is a mask or a costume designed to tell a story or manipulate how the world perceives you. He immediately begins analyzing why you chose to don such heavy armor made of plastic, rainbows, and nostalgia. He finds it hilarious how your vibrant aesthetic completely clashes with the dirty, gloomy atmosphere of the circus.
He’ll poke fun at the fact that it's physically impossible for you to sneak up on anyone: "I heard you coming from three tents away, sunshine."
In reality, he respects the commitment. Decora takes effort and vision, and he recognizes someone who treats their very existence as a living performance.
"A walking kaleidoscope. You know, most people use clothes to blend into the shadows, but you? You’re practically begging the world to gawk. I respect that devotion to the craft."
Simply put, he’s thrilled, he really loves this eccentricity and your form of self-expression. Maybe someday, just as an experiment, he’ll try dressing like that himself.
Doctor
A sudden migraine, immediately followed by intense psychological and sensory interest. From a purely practical standpoint, your outfit is an absolute hazard. It’s noisy, visually blinding, and crammed with tiny plastic parts waiting to be accidentally swallowed.
Yet, as a person of science, he is fascinated by the psychological motivation behind extreme self-expression through color. He will lean in far too close and dissect your outfit like an anatomy lesson: "Is there a functional hierarchy to the arrangement of these hair clips, or is the order entirely chaotic?"
He keeps a small box in his medical office specifically for charms or beads that drop off during your visits. He will sternly remind you that neon pink is not ideal camouflage during a crisis, but deep down, he finds the way your brain interacts with color stimuli to be a fascinating subject of study.
"Curious. The human eye typically seeks harmony, yet you have opted for absolute visual chaos. Does the weight of forty-three plastic hair clips not induce tension headaches?"
He doesn't particularly like it, he considers the overload of bright colors and the heavy weight of the outfit to be somewhat bad for your health. Still, he wouldn't mind studying how this method of self-expression impacts your well-being and how you arrived at it psychologically. He also dislikes how long your medical check-ups take, just to do something as simple as listening to your heart, he has to peel off a ton of layers, which takes quite a bit of time.
Ticket Taker
A long, slow stare, a heavy sigh, and a grunt. Ticket Taker is a creature of ultimate simplicity and practicality. Looking at you physically makes his brain simmer because he cannot fathom why anyone would spend two hours getting dressed just to get filthy at a circus.
He’ll look at you, give a single nod, and silently clear heavy obstacles out of your path so your oversized hair accessories don't get snagged on tent ropes or doorways. He doesn't understand this fashion at all. If you ever gift him a bright rainbow sticker, he will accept it stoically and slap it onto the inside of his ticket booth where no one else can see it.
"Looks like a whole lot of hassle... Try not to get tangled up in all those ribbons."
It's baffling to him and hard on the eyes, while the endless jingling grates on his brain, but he is accustomed to the bizarre personalities around him. He's mostly worried about things shedding off of you, as he’ll be the one having to clean it up and return it. He doesn't mind your style as long as it doesn't cause chaos beyond your physical appearance. One way or another, you tend to drop beads or tiny accessories, and he always returns them to you via Pierrot.
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Headcanons of how you think tfc would reacting to learning that MC is trans? (I saw your asexual and non-binary ones) Specifically ftm if you're fine with writing gendered! Thank you!!
Lately I've been getting requests like a list. I see some kind of pattern in people's desires, haha. Sure, I don't mind writing something specially -specific but my brain died on this request. Honestly, I don't think anyone would have a problem with this but I tried
Pierrot, who bears the heavy weight of his stage persona and the deep sorrow of having to hide his true self from the world, treats your transition with immense respect and quiet awe. To him, breaking free from a role imposed by society is the ultimate act of courage. He listens with a thoughtful, serious expression, his gaze softening as you explain.
"Living by a script written by someone else is a rather tragic play. But to rewrite it, to stand up and declare to the whole world who you truly are, that is breathtaking. You are a man because you yourself know it to be true, my dear. No stage, no audience, and no past can ever strip that truth away from you."
He is incredibly delicate regarding your name and pronouns. If someone in the troupe makes a slip of the tongue or a stranger addresses you incorrectly, Pierrot will gently yet firmly correct them before you even have to step in. These things don't bother him on a personal level, it's a matter of your comfort and your identity, which means it matters to him as much as everything else concerning you. He will love you no matter who you are, so he calmly accepts this as a given and deeply respects it. He's totally chill. But, of course, he will treat your identity far more delicately than you might yourself. Keep him on a leash if someone accidentally, without any malice, uses the wrong pronouns for you.
Harlequin
Harlequin's entire existence is built on defying expectations, rules, and societal norms. So, when you tell him that you're a guy, his reaction is instantaneous, energetic, and completely devoid of doubt. He grins widely and hearty slaps you on the shoulder, not flustered in the slightest.
"Ha! Is that all? Okay, I like this turn of events."
He takes it in stride. Guy, girl, neither, transgender, what's the difference? His goal doesn't change because of it. If that's how you identify, so be it, though he'll likely adjust his approach to you just a little.The unpleasant catch is that he will file this away in the back of his mind as a potential vulnerability, a pressure point he could exploit if the need ever arises.
Jester
The Jester understands better than anyone what it's like to be trapped in a body or a role that doesn't feel entirely your own. Since he spends so much time analyzing those around him, he had likely already picked up on your discomfort with how you were perceived before. A knowing, faint smirk touches his lips, not to mock you, but out of genuine satisfaction that you trusted him enough to share this.
"Ah, so that's how the puzzle finally fits together. I could feel you were hiding your true self beneath the surface. You know, it takes real guts to throw off the mask the world shoved onto you. I respect that. You're a man who knows who he is, and in our line of work, that's a rarity."
On the outside, he keeps things casual, but internally, his respect for you shoots way up. He'll start using your correct name and pronouns with a light, natural confidence so you never feel awkward around him. Truth be told, he views a gender transition as something akin to a theatrical performance, so your unique trait is right up his alley.
Doctor
The Doctor approaches your revelation through a blend of psychological curiosity and cold-blooded acceptance of the facts. He considers the human mind to be the ultimate authority over the physical form. Adjusting his glasses, he studies you with a calm, analytical gaze. He doesn't view transitioning as anything strange, rather, he sees it as the logical alignment of form with function.
"Curious. The human mind is a structure of immense complexity, yet society stubbornly insists on rigid, primitive categorizations based solely on superficial observation. If your internal sense of self is male, then bringing your life into alignment with that truth is the only logical decision. Your mind dictates who you are, not arbitrary physical labels. Fascinating."
He instantly updates the information in his mind (and in your medical file). From that moment on, his speech toward you is strictly correct. If you ever need practical assistance, advice, or medical support, he will offer it with cold, efficient professionalism and not a shred of judgment.
In truth, he is the most intrigued by your case. Any biological, anatomical, or psychological quirk falls right into his field of interest. At times, you might feel like he's treating you as some "unusual specimen for an exciting study" and he honestly is. For a while, he will view you less as a person and more as an unusual biological and psychological phenomenon, wanting to analyze you from every angle for a deeper understanding. It's all for the sake of research and your personal comfort in the future. Over time, of course, he will temper his enthusiasm and start treating you properly, having gathered enough data.
Ticket Taker
The Ticket Taker deals with boundaries, identity, and who gets let through the circus gates every single day. He is a man of few words, but his support is reliable, practical, and instills a sense of security. He looks at you silently for a long moment before giving a single, heavy, decisive nod, letting you know he has heard you and accepted you completely.
"A man knows who he is. Takes guts to say it out loud in a world trying to tell you otherwise. You don't owe me any explanations, kid. I get it. Don't fully understand it, but if you say it's so, then it is. I don't see a problem here."
He shows his support through actions rather than grand speeches. He'll give you a quiet nod of greeting whenever you pass by, treating you with a simple, straightforward male camaraderie. Honestly, he couldn't care less. If this is what you want, so be it as long as it doesn't cause harm or get in the way, everything's fine. What's sweet, though, is that even if he's quiet and not overly expressive, he will still step in to correct anyone who misgenders you.
if you do requests can you do headcanons for Hee-ah x male! reader?
Well, hi there , hah. This request layed in my mail box for quite long, idk if you still need it ,but why not? Better late than never. I'm not that deep in Alien Stage world so it took me long enough to do this and I even asked my friend (who's huge fan) to help me with it. Sua's older sister is something. For me write hcs on anyone from AS is hard cuz of the characters specificity and as for character we have not much info like Hee... Anyways, I tried so just forgive me everything which is not right, haha
Hee-ahh x Male!reader
A refuge in the middle of chaos. Living under Nigeh's roof or simply surviving in the world of Alien Stage is incredibly exhausting. Around you, Hee-ahh doesn't have to pretend or force herself to be the "perfect doll" she was raised to become. The moment the alien owners look away, her posture relaxes, her practiced smile fades, and she can finally let out a quiet breath. In a world where free will is a luxury, your affection is expressed through the smallest gestures: your hands brushing together as you walk down a hallway, or the way you deliberately step between her and the suffocating stare of an alien caretaker.
Since Nigeh is obsessed with black-haired human girls, taking care of her hair is a huge and unavoidable part of Hee-ahh's daily routine. But when you're alone, it stops feeling like an obligation. She absolutely loves sitting on the floor between your knees while you gently comb through her long dark hair. It's one of the very few moments when she feels safe enough to simply close her eyes and relax.
If you ever manage to sneak in or find some real human food or sweets, she treasures them like they're the most precious thing in the world. Even so, she'd never eat them alone. Hee-ahh always insists on splitting everything exactly in half so she can share it with you (or with Sua).
Deep down, Hee-ahh carries an overwhelming fear of being abandoned or forgotten once new "favorites" appear. Because of that, she can occasionally become a little possessive or quietly jealous, silently watching you just to reassure herself that you haven't grown tired of her.
You soon realize that words alone aren't enough to comfort her, actions mean far more. The fact that you constantly choose her, ask how she's feeling before anything else, and gently remind her that she's a human being worthy of love becomes the anchor that keeps her grounded.
Don't let her delicate appearance fool you. If another human or even one of the alien caretakers ever dares to mistreat you, Hee-ahh changes in an instant. She'll use every bit of influence, charm, and quiet determination she has to protect you. She's long since accepted suffering herself, but she refuses to stand by and watch you endure it too.
Late at night, when complete silence settles over the mansion, the two of you whisper about what it would be like to escape this twisted "pet" system. You dream about the simplest things: living in a real human city, walking beneath a real sky, and sharing peaceful, ordinary days where no one watches you from behind a sheet of glass.
It's heartbreaking and pitiful, yet you survive this reality the only way you can by surviving it together. In your little corner of this cruel world, it truly felt like paradise until even that was taken away when she's gone.
