#jingling my court jester bells

[boxylic]

gasp, my arm's been twisted. i will do my best- doodled bugs in skin below

borrowing from swaths of text with dearest @haonqq ;

A guy with great power a long long time ago used his powers to abuse and use his child's powers of foresight in his attempt to dominate everything that exists but the kids best friend in turn ripped them out the ritual their father was performing but . By doing that, the friends entire being went to shreds and split time and space into different dimensions and their best friend then went on a quest to bring them back. Not really relevant.

By tearing through time and space trying to bring his friend back, this guy brought a fragment of an alien parasite that had drained its original universe of the element they live off of, and also brought that element into our settings universe.

It takes about 1000 years before things start really happening, but by the year 3632: generators start to exist! The element infected some few humans and when those humans reproduce that element is passed onto their kids, and about half of everyone with this infection has the chance of being …reanimated by a 'beetle', upon their first natural death.

Beetles attach post-death at the spine, the connection is made during the first stage and the beetle needs to be removed and replaced with tech before the second stage begins or else the parasite is likely to overtake the host.

Each beetle allows the generators to tap into some sort of element to utilize/enhance their skills;

Solar- combustion, heat, nuclear fusion Arc- electricity, electromagnetism Void- dark energy/matter, gravitational attraction Stasis- cold, cessation of movement: slowing, detaining, shattering

Healers- some choice/combination of the subsets above that influence their particular healing abilities.

Civilian generators are tolerated and given the bare minimum to prevent a takeover of the host, though their tech isn't to the same standard as those who opt to join the military, and as such their life expectancy is much shorter than the near-eternity promised to military aligned generators.

what if i were a space worm. would u still love me

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

assorted scribbles and Love Bites!!!!

[grahamcore]

not to be delusional on main but i truly believe that tomgreg has the potential to go canon. greg’s dad is gay and if there’s one thing this show loves it’s generational similarities (and why bother having that be a plot point if not for later use). tom’s open marriage and hesitancy to cheat but easy intimacy with greg. the eventual crumbling of said marriage and tom’s subsequent closeness with greg as a blatant replacement for shiv. the ‘would you kiss me’ line, the ���you’re mine’ water bottle pelting scene, the forehead kiss. not to fucking mention nero and sporus. tom has killed his wife, pushed her down the metaphorical stairs, and all that’s left now is for him to dress greg in her clothes and kiss him on the lips. all i’m saying is that i think the writers of succession are too smart to lay all this foundation and not follow through. it’s too good a show for that.

[red-garden]

I really don’t post enough NMJ content for him being my favorite character…

Uuuuuuuhhhhhh Nie Mingjue oiled up, tits out, double Ds, double duties, double boyfriends. Single father, firstborn daughter, sect leader, babygirl, mother of my children. Insane, wretched little meow meow. Slut, virgin, bad at sex, 10 foot dick, build like a barbarian, hairy, jiggly, muscular

[candyklown]

Heenk Honk :0]

New trollsona! Once again made a joke with my friends that ended up with me drawing the actual thing- there was no way I could go around as candyklown and not have a purple trollsona so here they are!!!

[saturnsuv]

every time my mutuals reblog something from me i check what post it was so i know what pleased them

[cheer-nympho]

Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere��� “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

[so-very-small]

them: so, what’s your dream job?

me, thinking: i want to be a two inch tall court jester with a fancy little outfit and jingling bells. i want to work for a giant king who only i can make laugh, who only smiles at my antics. i want to woo this king so bad he falls in love with me, and we get married, and i am the jester-consort in lavish clown attire with a hotass giant king husband

me, out loud: i wanna be a writer :)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

whiteboard tomfoolery with me beloved @awkwardalphajay <3 aka we roleplayed monarch/jester with our sonas for like. Four Hours

aka we made an octopus board

the octopus in question:

[hearmeoutworthypoll]

200 follower mini celebration post!

Hearmeoutworthypoll Blog

Runs this blog, does not think it’s weird to be attracted to regular ass people (based on appearance, anyway). Soft green and brick red color palette. The Thing concept art profile pic. Sometimes drops the ball with the schedule and character research

I heard that admin has an 8-pack. One time admin punched me in the face, it was awesome. Popular with the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, d*ckheads. Smile like a breath of spring, voice is soft like summer rain. Once killed three men in a bar with a pencil

Reminder, the premise is “would a normie think it’s weird to find them attractive?” (Would they have to “hear me out?”)

[irishmammonagenda]

hii , do you mind doing diavolo x m!court jester reader?

i saw a post with a king x jester trope and i could not get it out of my head 😭 it can be headcanons or a short drabble, wtv you want!!

hihi! this is such an interesting thingy to write and i apologise for taking a while to write it, writing male characters is fun but lowkey kind of hard for me😔✊

i also dont know what jesters do and my knowledge is watching horrible histories when i was younger so this is widely inaccurate heehee

no but fr i think in another universe diavolo would be a jester tbh

dividers by @/ioveartfilm

grma for requesting <3!!!!

Funny Funny (I'm in love with you.) Diavolo X M!Court Jester Reader

He laughs at your jokes like a man on crack

You're his favourite employee in the castle and your room is right beside his chambers (he made sure of it)

You sneak into his room for sleepovers sometimes. Barbatos has given up on propriety.

The Little Ds help you with your super cool jester preformances. They're surprisingly good at dancing and balancing plates.

You use the Little Ds as juggling balls sometimes.

Diavolo has promoted you as much as possible, bro atp people think you're a consort instead of court jester.

like they will full on go up to you to pitch ideas or put in a good word for Diavolo since he'll listen to you.

Barbatos also forces you to tell Diavolo news that'll make him angry or upset since he takes it a lot better coming from you.

Unrelated but you'd 100% be friends with Solomon and Thirteen. Which is awkward when theyre in the same room together.

Apart from Barbatos and Lucifer occassionally disciplining you, you are untouchable.

"Your Heighness...." A noble bows in front of Diavolo's throne. Why that scumbag had requested an audience with the Demon Prince, you had no idea. Technically you weren't even supposed to be listening in, but no one had noticed you on the chandelier yet so that was their problem.

And your problem when Barbatos eventually found out. Said Demon standing beside Diavolo's throne.

You watch as Diavolo nods along, uncharacteristically serious. "What do you need?"

"Well...I believe if we stopped trading pickles to the humans it would be a lot less daunting to create them-"

You blink. What the fuck. Bro requested an audience for this? Damn, this was so unserious it was good material for your next stand up routine.

You watch from overhead as Diavolo blinks, his wings stiffening ever so slightly, the crimson-haired prince raises an eyebrow. "You want to stop trading pickles to the Human Realm?"

"Yes, My Lord." The noble responds earnestly.

"No."

The demon blinks, astounded.

"Excuse me, may I ask you repeat that, my Lord?"

"No. Human's love pickles. They're our main traders. It'd sour relations even more." Diavolo says, you watch as Barbatos takes a deep breath, and as the Demon Prince begins to get annoyed.

You stiffle a laugh at the noble squandering, which leads to your downfall as you move your hands over your mouth, taking them off of your jester hat.

Which falls.

All the way down to the ground.

The bells on the hat jingle.

Barbatos' eyes are trained on you like a hawk. So are Diavolo's, but his eyes are more of an excited child on christmas than anything else.

The noble's eyes widen.

"Sup?" You grin awkwardly. The noble, sensing a way out of this pickle debate uses this as an excuse to say his goodbyes and leave.

Diavolo doesn't even notice. Barbatos just shakes his head ever so slightly.

"That guy was in a real pickle...!...Haha...right guys?" You laugh awkwardly, and despite the fact you're not funny at all, the Prince cackles like it was the best stand up routine he'd ever heard in his life.

You were currently at a banquet talking to the Little D's about your next juggling stunt when a demon approached you.

"Hello." She smiles, her red lips glossy.

"Sup."

"Well, I was wondering if I could ask a favour or two....." She looks hesitant but composed.

You nods your head, the bells on your hat jingling. You're convinced Diavolo put them on there to serve as some sort of cat bell.

"Well....I had an idea for expanding our trades of magical herbs to human world Alaska...since a few witches have been living on quote on quote 'lesbian cottages' there."

You whistle. "Damn. Do they have huskies?"

"A lot of them, from what I hear." She nods, her tail wrapping around her leg absentmindedly. "Could you put in good word for Lord Diavolo for me?"

"Sure?" You tilt your head, the bells jingle slightly.

The demon grins, "Thanks he'll listen to you more thoroughly!"

Little D No.2 pops out from your breast pocket. "That's because everyone thinks you two are gay for eachother."

You yank him out of there. "Go annoy Mammon."

"Sir yes sir!"

At this point you should be the Avatar of Pride.

"Sire. I'm telling you. He just stabbed several upper class demons with a rusty spoon!" The demon knight urges Diavolo, who isn't even looking at him.

"You expect me to believe that?" Diavolo tilts his head. You nod vigorously from where you're covered in entrails and holding a rusty spoon in your hands. "MC wouldn't hurt a fly."

The knight looks from you to him with a lax jaw.

What.

The.

Fuck.

That knight's putting his two weeks in now icl.

^^ idea from that one person on tiktok (sirleoninsunglasses) i cant get it out of my head.

can you tell im a merlin fan.

gang idk what noble people talk about i made these discussions up as i went along but i can assure you that pickle trading and lesbian witches in alaska are actually the only thing nobles talked about in history i pinky promise

[roseredcheeks]

I just can’t shake off the thought of being my daddy’s little court jester…

I mean, not much would change. I already worship and adore my daddy, @storytimewithwambo , as a king like he deserves. My only purpose and concern is pleasing him, fulfilling his every request. But to be given the honour of having everyone know thats my role, my duty… oh I just want nothing more😍🤤

To be presented in front of everyone in the most humiliating, degrading jester costume, the makeup, ruffles, bells.. all of it; not to mention my big, cartoonishly bulky diaper out on display for everyone to see, daddy would have it no other way and it’s not like I would put up a fight or go against what he wants.

The outfits only purpose being to make everyone laugh and to make me look like more of a joke than I already am… an outfit no self-respecting woman with any dignity left would EVER wear. Everyone already letting out chuckles at the sight of me while daddy sits on his throne, looking down at me, unimpressed. He knows I can do better.

But even by just hearing everyone’s chuckles I would get so horny, because all I am is just a simple minded, tits for brains with a NEED to be laughed at; a pathetic little diaper girl who gets off on being laughed at and loves every second of it.

Desperately doing everything I can to make my daddy laugh: dancing as all my bells jingle, boobies jiggled and my big-babyish-booties honked and squeaked.

Getting all the actual adults in the room to ask me questions, basic first-grade questions because I know it will just embarrass me further as I’m just too dumb to answer any of them correctly; so to showcase my actual skills: all I do is suck on my thumb to show off how good I am with my mouth, while squatting down to push out a huge mess in the back of my diaper as my farts echoed throughout the throne room, doing this all with an ear-to-ear ditzy grin on my face. As I go to stand back up, I clumsily trip myself up and land straight on my fresh, muddy behind with a loud SQUELCH!!

All the adults erupt with laughter, I couldn’t help but bounce up and down in my mess just to get more out of them. But as I look up at daddy, all he’s giving me is an expected grin… He’s right, I can do better!! I didn’t care that all the other adults in the room are laughing I want HIS laughter, I NEED his laughter.

I push myself up by my mitten covered hands, droopy butt sticking up in the air, holding my arms out as I gained my balance. I waddle my way up to my daddy, getting lost in his eyes along the way.. he’s just so dashingly handsome even a girl with an actual useful brain wouldn’t be able to help themselves! As I present myself before him, he bends down for me to give him an expected kiss on the cheek, just like always to show my respect, I do just that before taking his goblet filled with wine

And pour it into my diaper.

And thats when that gorgeous, hypnotic sound entered my ears.. daddy’s laughter. If I had any shred of dignity left it was gone, nowhere to be recovered as I started shamelessly rubbing my diaper up against me, tongue out, eyes crossed and dazed, drool dripping off my chin and straight onto my breasts.

This is all I was, this is what I lived for,

Daddy’s laughter.

AMAZING, OUTSTANDING artwork drawn by my talented daddy: @storytimewithwambo 😍😍 I’m such a lucky girl🥰

[tyrantisterror]

Wherefore Art Thou Clownfucker?

A while back I made a post explaining why vampires appeal to me, and while it was mostly in a more general sense, there was a specific focus on why I find them, you know, hot. And it was that was in part because I had recently discovered that I'm apparently surrounded by Werewolf fuckers on here, much to my dismay as a Vampire fucker. It's like being the only goth kid at a rockabilly concert or something. I felt defensive, is the point! I needed to go to bat (heh) for my pale ladies (and Astarion.... and Spike)!

And now, because Muncher compels me to do so, I'm doing the same for Clowns. My other pale ladies.

Now, keep in mind the fact that I'm a monsterfucker first and foremost, and that my clownfuckery is really more derived from my monsterfuckery. I imagine the middle section of the Clownfucker/Monsterfucker diagram is pretty big, but I also know there are some clownfuckers who are very much NOT monsterfuckers, and vice versa. This is not the case for vampirefuckers, who are nestled firmly within the monsterfucker circle, because while all vampires are monsters, not all clowns are monsters. I bring this up because while I'm gonna try to explain clownfuckery on its own terms, there is likely going to be some monsterfucker bias in my explanations and defense. That's just how it is on this bitch of an earth!

I'm gonna get real pretentious here and talk about the historic role of clowns for a moment. From Comedia del Arte harlequins to medieval court Jesters, the clown's role has always been that of Comic Relief. They are, simply put, here to be tonally dissonant - when everyone else is serious and dramatic, a clown comes in as this weird, silly, incongruously hilarious element that contrasts the gravity of everything around them. "Relief" is really the key word here - a clown's job is to provide levity when otherwise there would be none. When everything is dark, they provide a little light.

That's the core emotional appeal of clownfucking - a clown is/should be someone who can make you smile when you need it the most. Kingdom's at war, family's fighting, your life's in shambles? The clown will make you laugh. Everything feels dark and gloomy and depressing? Here comes a silly little goofball wearing bright, clashing colors and jingling with each step because they're covered in bells, and all they want to do is tell jokes until you start laughing. Clowns are, by intent, that sweet sweet hit of dopamine personified.

Clowns are here to make you smile.

Another important historical detail about clowns is their unique place in the hierarchy of society - namely, being entirely outside of it. A jester was in some respects the lowest person on the totem pole, a fool that had power over no one and nothing, living to be laughed at. Yet, because they had no power over anyone, it was generally poor taste to take offense to anything a jester said, which meant they could talk more freely than anyone else - when everyone else acts like a butt-kissing sycophant, a jester is free to talk shit and speak their mind.

The traditional attire and appearance of clowns plays into both of these traits: the bright, gaudy clothing and makeup is silly, yes, but it's also a sign that the clown does not give a single shit about fashion and other social norms. A clown is, by nature, an anomaly, a misfit, a rebel.

Nowadays we have another word for people with that attitude. Clowns are punk.

Weird makeup, crayola red hair, patchwork clothes...

I would say the very fact that "normal" people look at clownfucking as some sort of inexplicable fetish is, in fact, part of the appeal. It's a form of xenophilia, of attraction to things that are different and othered, a love for outsiders and misfits and oddballs. To fuck a clown is to show love and adoration for something outside of the realm of what is socially acceptable - something silly, goofy, and weird, yet also often harmless. After all, a clown's main purpose is to make you smile.

That's not to say that clowns have to be harmless to be attractive, mind you. Tons of people, many much smarter than I, have talked about the cultural shift of our perception of clowns that began somewhere in the 1980's. Clowns went from being viewed as genuinely fun and cute to primarily being figures of fear and terror - if a clown shows up in modern media, even if it's innocuous, there will always be at least one character who vocally talks about how creepy they think clowns are.

That may in part be due to the fact that clowns have such a benign mission statement - a lot of people, especially nowadays, do not trust a person who claims they just want to make others happy. Anyone who acts like that MUST be up to something - there must be something nefarious going on, some evil plan, some lurking danger.

Which is where you REALLY bring the monsterfuckers in.

You really don't need to do that much with a clown's design to push it firmly into monster territory - "a pale person with sharp teeth" is the bare minimum it takes to make a vampire, after all (and even the pale part can be downplayed).

And a clown's dedication to making things "funny" can make for a very enjoyably-scary persona for a monster - hell, half the appeal of the Addams Family is that they're a bunch of freakish inhuman monsters who react to a bunch of scary shit with absolute delight and adoration. Again, the tonal dissonance element is at play here, albeit in a different way - even when Clowns are the darkness in your world, they still bring light in the sense that they view it that darkness as funny in of itself.

(hell, the word "harlequin" means "five horns," and may be rooted in folkloric monsters like Herne the Hunter depending on who you ask, so in a way clowns have always been monster-coded)

I think all of this is pretty well exemplified in the current Patron Saint of Clownfuckers, the goddess of Clownfuckery if you will, Harley Quinn. Hailing from a story whose main setting is such a Gothic Horror-inspired nightmarish shithole of a city that it's literally called Gotham, surrounded by characters who are at least 60% gothic horror archetypes by volume, opposed by a hero who literally dresses like a Dracula, it is inarguable that Harley Quinn is surrounded by darkness that's both literal and figurative.

But she's always smiling, and not in an ironic way.

Harley Quinn suffers intense abuse, she's drawn into wicked schemes, and in the way of most modern clowns, she causes no small amount of mayhem and suffering herself. But even at her darkest, she's always smiling, always trying to find the bright side.

She's a rebel, she's a punk. Almost everyone thinks she's beneath them. Almost all of those people get proven they're wrong. In a world full of tyrannical hierarchies, she steps outside of them.

She's an outsider, a misfit, an oddball. And she wants to make you smile.

I think you can probably see the appeal of that.

[ratking-mo]

My king, My jester

Synopsis: You are the king’s Jester, one of the most valuable members of his court. You are the only thing that’s able to pick him up from his dreary, stressed out mood. Though this time around, he seemed to be in a worse mood than usual. And you know just how to get him to bring him back to his old self.

Tags: Dom!Switch reader, Sub!Switch character, nipple play, slight dumbification, reader is silly, rim stimulation

Word count: 3.1k

Authors note: the people that know how to write moaning/begging are real ones fr; might end up writing a part two in the future

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“FOOL!”

A low, booming voice shouted out throughout the castle halls.

Your head lifts slightly, the bells decorating your ivory and black felted hat jingling lightly as you move. A wide grin spread itself across your lips as you let out a soft, giddy laugh. It seemed like your king requested your presence.

And who are you to deny him the need?

You skip gleefully down the cinder-colored palace, a labyrinth you've grown to become quite familiar with. The walls, holding canvases decorated with oil paint, were strewn about. Some paintings depicted a different descendant of the royal family, while others depicted different environmental scenes. Useless decor to show off, really. Your pointed shoes lightly thumped against the hard red carpet as you turned the corner, walking through the quiet corridor as your smile began to grow into an open-mouth grin.

Your bells came to a halt as you finally entered the throne room, taking a knee in front of your King.

There sat King Istemi, plastered broadly against the dark wooden throne and soft blue cushions. Around him sat two, quartz pillars. The farther they went into the air, the closer they leaned into one another, soon conjoining and creating a slightly damaged alter of sorts. The throne room itself was a large, circular room. Two other large entryways sat on the right and left of you, two knights on either side as large flames sat beside them to dimly illuminate the room.

Istemi slowly lifted his head when the jingle of your being ceased, amber-hued eyes boring into your gaze. Yet your stature was unrelenting.

“What is it that you desired of me, my liege?” You spoke, voice lightly bouncing off the walls as you lifted your head up

Istemi lifted his left hand slowly, waving it back and forth dismissively. And with that, the four knights took their silent leave, leaving the two of you alone. Your king let out a harsh, disgruntled sigh, slumping within his chair. “Ive grown overstretched, my dearest jester..” he spoke, his tone growing into a more softer one. “My duties as your king have begun to push me to my limits, and I fear the day that my mind wanders into distances I cannot come back from..”

Istemi lifted once more, motioning for you to rise. And you do not skip a beat. You hop up onto your feet. “Poor thing..” You cooed out, skipping off towards the throne. Once you reach it, your hands gently graze against the crest rail. You dangle your head over slightly, your hat nearly tipping off as the bells jangled. “Your pity towards our kingdom is appreciated in ten full. Though, if I may comment,” you move your hand up, gently playing with the tips of his crown. “If you keep this up, you’ll end up going mental by the morrow!” you giggled out in a teasing manner.

Istemi’s eyes opened up more before he quickly moved to face you, a lock of his chestnut-colored hair falling in front of his eyes. He seemed rather frantic, worried that he may lose himself so soon in his rain. He has only been king for six years, how embarrassing would that be to his bloodline? “W-what are you saying??” He demanded an elaboration, his hands moving to grab onto the arm of the chair. “Keep what up? I am only doing what is demanded of me!” He lifted his hands gazing down at the palms of his hands as he struggled to figure out any possible meaning to what you said.

“And that is your problem,” You pointed out before leaning backward. The spine of your back bent inwards as you pressed firmly against the ground, soon kicking your legs upwards and causing the bells on your shoes to jingle lightly. You stand tall. If you could even call a handstand standing, that is. “You push yourself to follow your duties every single day, despite your psyche.” You then tilt yourself to the side, your left foot colliding against the ground as you flip yourself into a proper standing position. “It is quite pathetic, once you think about it..” You laugh lightly, placing the tips of your fingers over your mouth as you look to the side.

“Fool, your words are not making any sense,” Istemi mumbled, his index finger and thumb lightly rubbing at his eyelids as a shaky sigh emitted from his throat. “You have not a clue what I go through every day… From the moment I rise, to the moment I must leave to my chambers, it is nonstop motion.” He explained, eyes slowly lifting upwards to make mutual eye contact with you.

While he was looking at you, it was as if he was off somewhere else, somewhere distant. He wanted oh so desperately to be back on the same plane of freedom as you, but something was stopping him. He ached to stop this senseless carousel of thought for at least a brief hour.

Istemi lowered his head slightly, placing his hands within his hair as he sighed out. His gold-laced crown shuffled slightly on his head due to the constant movement, so you took the rare liberty of removing it. You held it delicately in the air, pretending to analyze the accessory in scrutinizing detail. “Ugly thing, this is..” You commented offhandedly.

“Now don’t say that, fool..” Istemi muttered, lightly nudging at you with his foot before he went back to focus on his anguish. “I just wish for a break… A break where I am not demanded, not pushed into the constant stream to fix others' problems, or to do my duties.. Just once, I wish to be free from thought itself.” He mused, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Your eyes shifted to look at him for a moment, your arms lowering the crown as your head slowly tilted to the side. How rare it was to see your King in such a weakened state. And even rarer it was to have someone such as him, confide in someone like you.

Perhaps even, someone like you could help him, if he so wishes.

You take a minute to weigh your options and gather your thoughts, before deciding it was best to act. You move a step closer, placing the crown on one of the arms of the chair. “My liege,” you start, reaching your hand out. “It hurts me to see you in such a state… I would give nothing more than to aid you in any way I can.” You pledge, gently resting the palm of your hands on his stubble-ridden cheek.

Istemi seemingly stiffened at the sudden touch, his eyes popping open once more in an instant. He slowly moved his hand, about to place it over yours.

“My knowledge may be limited, unlike yours,” You acknowledged, soothingly beginning to rub the thumb of your finger back and forth. “But I certainly know a few… Options we could test. One is bound to put you in a better mood.”

“…” Istemi’s mouth opened slightly as he gave a shaky, hesitant inhale. He closed his eyes as his eyebrows knitted together, cheeks beginning to heat up. He was not used to such gentle care (or any care, at that.) He began to push his head further into your hand, sighing.”… I trust you, my jester.” He confided quietly.

You hum at that lightly, leaning forward and gently pressing your forehead against Istemi’s. The bells gave a quiet jingle due to this. “You won't need to have a single thought until I'm done with you, my King.”

!!

You remove yourself away from him for a brief moment, breaking the warm contact shared between the two of you. Istemi gave a small frown, opening up his mouth to protest the separation but was nearly immediately interrupted.

You gently pressed your lips against your king’s, bringing him into a warm, sweet kiss. For you, it was a decent enough opening to lead him into the rest of your little excursion. Not that you were hating, this, however. Itsemi’s lips were slightly chapped, and the lower one was cold to the touch. It was as if he had been biting on it for quite a while. For Istemi, the kiss was rather unexpected, to say the least. He didn’t know what to expect, however, but it certainly wasn’t this. But that didn’t stop his trust in you. It seemed to only heighten it. His eyes slowly began to flutter shut as he leaned into the kiss, his lips following behind the rhythm that was set by yours.

Your hand began to travel downwards as the two of you focused on the other’s lips, your right hand giving a firm squeeze at the corresponding pec. This caused Itsemi to gasp out, the blush on his increasing. You took the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth, the muscle lightly swiping against your king’s as he tried to keep up with your pace. He tasted like salt, mostly, with the faint flavor of fermented grape. Istemi shivered slightly in your hold as your gloved hand groped his clothed chest. What a sensation, both of them. The feeling to be ravaged and tasted in such a way, the feeling to be grabbed like you have never felt anything like it. The dual sensations were causing his mind to grow flooded, despite how minuscule they were. He was struggling to focus on them, his overwhelming grip slowly slipping to a thankful lucidity.

Istemi arched his back slightly, further pushing his chest in your hand as it wandered. You then pulled your lips away with a soft gasp, a trail of saliva faintly following your tongue stemming from your King’s mouth. Istemi let out a small whine, eyes squinting to gaze at you. “Wha..why’d you stop..?” he whispered out groggily.

“Because sharing a kiss won't fix your problems that easily, my liege.” You responded harmonically, a soft dust of blush coating your cheeks as you gazed at Itsemi. You then moved to place your left hand against his chest, firmly holding it before glancing up at Istemi. “My Liege, may I remove of your fabrics?”

Istemi gazed down at you with half-lidded eyes, face flushing at the thought. He seemed a bit hesitant to fully reveal himself to you, those thoughts of his demands, duties, and status still holding him back, You take notice of this. You soothingly began rubbing at his sides, thinking of some way to encourage him. Hm, how to take this in a different approach. You then had an idea. You lean forward, mouth close to your King’s ear as you whisper out. “Come now,” you breathe. “I love your mantle so much, but you won't be needing it anymore… Be good for me,” you spoke, planting a gentle kiss on the lobe of his ear. “Will you?’

Istemi let out a quiet whine at the feeling of your warm breath against his ear, once again arching his back in an involuntary response. He opened his mouth, taking a moment to form any coherent words before quickly sputtering out. “Y-yes, please..” he whispered out, eyes drifting over to look at you. “I-I’ll be good, just.. Please.” He pleaded out, shedding off any inhibitions that once held him captive.

You take this and act quickly, disrobing him cloth after cloth in a steady succession. Istemi’s head lazily drifted to the side, eyes following your hands after each movement. His typically stiffened form was like putty in your hands, warmth radiating with every delicate touch. After finally pushing off the last barrier of clothing, it falling to the sides and joining the others in a small pile on the throne, you were greeted with his undershirt. “Such a sight this is,” You commented, gently placing your cheek against the palm of your right hand while the left hand pushed up the bottom of his shirt. A bit of his stomach and pelvis came into view, you pulling a lazy grin. “To see my King in such a weakened state..” you added, slowly trailing upwards. The shirt began to ride upwards against the wrist of your hand, Itsemi beginning to shutter at the feeling of your felt-covered hand sending shockwaves through his body.

“What a waste, this body is, on such a wandought man like you!” You teased in a laughing tone. Itsemi whined a bit at that as he evaded eye contact, his face complementing a soft red hue.

It was hard to tell if that was from arousal or embarrassment, however. Perhaps both?

“Do not tease me with such words, fool..” He croaked out, tilting his head back slightly. “Oh, my King,” Your hand finally reached its destination, cupping it for a brief moment. The hairs decorated across his body pricked through your gloves ever so slightly, due to the weak material. Though, you were undeterred. You lifted your thumb, beginning to circle his nipple in a rhythmic motion. “Is it really I who is the fool at this moment?” You question.

“You-”Istemi stopped mid-sentence, letting out a shaky moan at the sensation. “O-oh.. Heavens..~” he whispered out, pushing himself further into you as he partially covered up his mouth. You chuckle lightly at that, finding it rather cute. You free your right hand from the grasp of your cheek, pulling Itsemi’s shirt further upwards. “Be a dear and hold this for me?” You requested before shutting his hands. “With whatever you can, kindly.” Istemi took a moment to even register your words before giving a small nod, lowering his hand. He knew that he’d most likely get tired of holding his shirt up for however long with his hands, so he chose the next best option. He leaned forward slightly, opening up his mouth in a small ‘O’ shape before biting down, holding up his shirt with his mouth. You give your trademark smile, closing your eyes. “Good boy.” You praised him, causing Itsemi to visibly stiffen slightly as his body somehow got redder. You laugh sweetly at his reaction. “What a reaction!” You teased, placing both hands against your cheeks. “I wonder just how red you can get till you resemble a tomato.” he jeered, causing Itsemi to whine at you in embarrassment. You hum, waving your hands back and forth dismissively. “I kid, I kid..” You clarify, leaning downwards till you are in the eyeline with the bud. “Now, let us get back to it..” You whisper out before opening up your mouth slightly, taking in his left nipple before gently rubbing and pinching at the right. Your lips locked around the hardened nipple, your tongue teasingly rubbing around it while giving light nips now and then. You could feel each steadily getting warmer the more you showed attention to the two.

Istemi’s body shook slightly at the new sensation, feeling an overwhelming amount of warmth fill his senses. “F-fuck–” He cursed his head tilting back slightly as he felt your teeth graze over his bud. He lifted his hands, his fingers nestling themselves underneath your belled hat as he gripped onto your hair. “Ke- Uhn– K-keep going, please-.” He pleaded, squeezing his eyes tightly. You move your freehand slowly, trailing it down towards the tent slowly forming within Itsemi’s pants. The palm of your hand pressed down against his clothed tip, grinding it down in a firm motion. You could feel Istemi’s body tense up underneath you, him letting out a low moan in a content response. You decide to push forward, tucking your hand into the crotch of his pants. His undergarment was rather thin, to the touch it felt like the thinnest of lenins.

It didn't leave much to mystery.

Your fingers traversed past his ever-aching erection, going to farther nether regions. Soon the distance and space you were given began to close in, your fingers beginning to grow encased between your King’s two firm, chiseled cheeks. It was warm, cramped, and ever so slightly hairy. It's a sense and texture that only you will ever get to know. Lucky you! Then; the pads of your fingers touched his puckered hole. Itsemi tensed up for a moment at the sudden touch.

“Ho–” he breathed out, grip tightening within the locks of your hair. “My g- haah–” his voice struggled to croak out, struggling to search for words. Nothing for him was connecting, not a word on the tip of his tongue. All that was able to formulate for him, was thoughts of pleasure and you. “I-”

“Hm?” You look upwards, eyes meeting Istemi’s finally. You slowly pull your lips away from his nipple, saliva now coating it in a faint glaze. “I- Uhnn..” He faintly whimpered out, closing his eyes firmly as he ground his rear further down against your fingers. “Use your words, my King.” You encouraged, your freehand lightly nudging at Istemi’s side.

“In,” Istemi finally gasped out, eyes fluttering open as the bottom of his shirt fell from his teeth. “In, please, in.” He pleaded, letting out a choked-out moan. “Yes, dearest.” You respond in a gentle tone. “But I do feel it is best to tell you that if I go in dry, I-”

Istemi reached up, his hand roughly grasping the ruff of your ensemble. He yanked you up towards his face, the two of you making close contact once more. “IN,” he demanded, voice going low once more. “This is an order from your king, fool.” he spoke to you slowly as his chest rose and fell, a soft color of red remaining on his form. You stare up at him for a good moment, eyes wide before giving a simper across your face. “Well!” you let out a giddy laugh, hands clasping together eagerly as you held them up. “You certainly know what you want now, don’t you?” you prompted the King before letting go.

“Bet that didn’t take much thought now, did it?” You wink at him playfully before pushing both of your hands underneath his legs. “What are y-” Before Istemi could finish his question, you lifted his legs with ease, causing him to slump in his chair with a startled yelp. His hands moved to grab onto the sides of the chair loosely, making sheepish eye contact with you. You let out a soft giggle, placing his legs on both of your shoulders gently. “Now,” a joyful glint filled your eyes. “To carry out my king’s order.”

[knifedancer]

What-If: MultiFelix

What if Felix met Multimouse before his appearance in canon?

What if Adrien wasn’t the only blond crushing on a super heroine in the family?

~~~~~~~ “Shit!” Felix cursed as he dodged a wayward akuma blast, the wall of the store he had been hiding beside becoming nothing more than a crumbling pile of bricks in his wake. He stumbled as the ground shook again, hazel eyes darting around to seek out another route away from the battlefront before the akuma-of-the-week targeted the blond directly instead of the thinning crowds around him.

‘There! I can hide in that alley!’ Felix rushed forward, panting as he sprinted across the street towards perceived safety. However, just before he could breach it, another blast struck the building to the left and the debris blocked the mouth of the alleyway – a few bricks slammed into his left leg, their bruising impacts ripping his pants and leaving a smattering of cuts on his thigh. By the way the material of his black slacks bloomed matching glossy spots, there were likely more bloody wounds than those visible through the tears. Cursing under his breath, he spun to his right to begin limping further down the avenue when the sound of maniacal laughter sent chills down his spine. Felix turned and dropped into a fighting stance; hazel eyes focused on the threat approaching slowly. The akuma was dressed as a Medieval court jester; bells jingling as they bounced from foot to foot, legs and arms as pale as snow and unnaturally long like some sort of spider. Eyes wild and toothy grin wide, their head tilted like an inquisitive puppy looking at a new toy.

‘Well, new fear unlocked…’ Felix thought, his rising panic hidden behind a carefully constructed mask of indifference and splotches of plaster dust.

“When I was a lad, I was gloomy and sad / As I was from the day I was born / When other babes giggled and gurgled and wiggled / I proudly was loudly forlorn. / My friends and my family looked at me clammily / Thought there was something amiss…” the akuma’s unhinged, sing-songed limerick coming out dejected as it approached slowly, their grin temporarily dropping into an overexaggerated frown. Felix took a cautious step back, was this the victim’s backstory?

“What else could he be but a Jester? / A Jester? A Jester! / A funny idea, a Jester!” Suddenly the akuma’s mouth stretched up into an unnaturally feral grin, like some sort of horror game villain – equal parts terrifying and disturbing that would certainly not haunt his dreams later – and squealed with joy, clapping its hands around their marotte. “Only the sharpest eye, the keenest nose / the quickest ear and the fleetest toes / Can ever outfox the Jester! Can ever outfox the Jester! / Only the stoutest arm, the bravest heart / with a magic charm and a good head start / Will ever outfox the Jester!”

The hazel-eyed teen braced himself to fight as the akuma lunged with a sharp jingle, marotte extended above their head as if to club the blond over his skull rather than shoot a blast from the tip. Out of nowhere and with a quiet fwip, a pink jump rope shot in front of the jester, tripping them. Just as soon as the rope appeared, it retracted in the blink of an eye and, in its place, a grey dressed figure somersaulted in the air directly above the flattened akuma. Time seemed to slow as Felix watched her pink hair ribbons flutter in the air behind the space buns holding back her hair, tresses as dark as a raven’s wing. His breath briefly caught as bright, bluebell eyes flashed – focused and calculating – from behind the edges of a baby pink domino mask. She brought her black booted feet together and ruthlessly planted them directly into the back of the akuma’s skull, impaling their head into the pavement like some sort of avenging Valkyrie taking down a mythical beast. Felix felt breathless and his knees turned to putty watching the graceful, powerful display. Just who was she?

Shaking off the foreign feelings clouding his mind, the blond limped backwards, unsure if this lithe woman was a friend or foe. Perhaps she would attack him next. Why did he feel a thrill at the idea of sparring with her? Focus! The movement drew the attention of those enchanting blue eyes. She squeaked in surprise, as if just noticing him for the first time. However, they took on an intelligent gleam, quickly assessing his physical state – those eyes pausing on his leg – as she approached him with her hands outstretched in a placating manner. “Um. Excuse me, garçon, I’m here to help. You need to evacuate. Are you badly injured?”

Ignoring the way that her sweet voice – which sounded like silk wrapped around steel – made his heartbeat quicken, he evaluated her for a threat. She was petite and so thin that it looked like the next strong breeze might knock her over. Hazel eyes trailed down the woman’s grey suit – lines of pink breaking the black and grey tightly hugging her tiny frame, the fabric caressing each toned curve and valley in a way that made his mouth run dry – before taking note of a familiar pink jump rope hanging around her waist like a tail. He relaxed fractionally and cleared his throat. “You were the one that tripped him before, weren’t you?” he questioned, gesturing to the now thrashing akuma attempting to free itself from the ground. If Jester had not been struggling to free themselves, Felix would liken the akuma’s current state to an ostrich hiding their head in a hole – the blond choked on a laugh over that mental image!

The grey suited woman glanced back and nodded, “I apologize but…we need to get you out of here before Jester sees us and decides to get revenge.” She drew out the jump rope and stepped into his personal space. Felix realized just how much shorter she was, the top of her head just barely clearing his shoulder, before her words finally registered.

“W-wait, what are you—OOF!” The lithe figure quickly lifted him in a fireman’s carry over her shoulder with shockingly little effort before whipping out the rope and tugging them into the air as if snapping a rubber band. Watching the ground flash by beneath them at a dizzying speed, Felix was pretty sure he was going to be sick. ‘What a way to go…throwing up while escaping an akuma, being manhandled by some superhuman, spandex wearing, midget!’ He refused to admit that this position also provided a lovely angle on some of her finer assets…which was distracting enough to assuage the rising bile in his throat.

With a jolt, they landed on a rooftop, but she only paused for a moment. The woman returned the rope to her waist and shifted him into a bridal carry before dashing quickly across the uneven terrain as if it were second nature. Felix’s arms instinctually wrapped around her neck in a desperate attempt to prevent being dropped. He glanced over her shoulder to see the rapidly expanding distance from whence he was kidnapped – perhaps rescued? – off the street while the wind whipped noisily past his ears. ‘It appears she’s just as strong and fast, even with my added weight,’ the blond thought with mounting admiration. The grey suited woman began to slow and hopped onto a flat roof with a small garden next to a fire escape, finally halting their advance and gingerly returning him to his feet. The blond attributed his racing heart from the unexpected flight rather than their proximity.

“Sorry about that! We didn’t have much time and I needed to get you away from that akuma before they freed themselves. You should be safe here and, if you’re not in too much pain, you can easily take the fire escape down to the streets. Just try to avoid Rue de Rivoli or else you might bump into our crazed jester friend again.” Her lips curved into a gentle smile that made him feel fluttery—er, reassured.

Felix furrowed his brow, “Who even are you?”

The woman blinked and opened her mouth to reply when a cry of “MOUSINETTE!” came from his right, followed by a black blur crashing into the grey suited woman. She stumbled back a few steps with a giggle that sounded like wind chimes dancing in sunlight. Wrapped around Felix’s savior, belt tail seemingly interweaving with the hanging jump rope length, was none other than a grinning Chat Noir. “What are you doing here?! Milady said she was sending in help, but I didn’t think she’d send you after…” The cat hero trailed off, one hand gesturing towards her mask. Now what was that about?

“O-Oh…Yeah…She said that it was just temp-temporary since she’s…uh…” The young woman glanced over towards Felix and then back to Chat, dropping her voice to a soft whisper, “…indisposed.”

“Indisposed? But isn’t her kwam—” Chat Noir looked confused before finally realizing they had company, his mouth dropping into a silent ‘oh’. “Gotcha. Ixnay.” Then he grinned again and ruffled her hair, “It’s good to see you again, Little Mouse! No one deserves it more than you!”

Her cheeks flared in rosy embarrassment and her lips protruded in a pout at the hero’s praise. “Um…I-I…Thank you, Chat. That’s very sweet but…uh, don’t get your hopes up?” The mousey girl cringed and backed away, tugging her jump rope free as she prepared for her departure.

Felix’s lips quirked up slightly at her increased nervous vocal quirks, ‘First she’s badass, then she’s adorable. Just who is she?’

“Since you’re more, uh experienced than me, wo-would you mind checking out this man’s le-leg? I’m heading back to see if Jester has um…broken free from where I…uh…left him.” With that, she scurried away, using her jump rope to swing back towards the akuma.

“Wow! You don’t know it, sir, but you’re a very lucky man… saved by THE Multimouse!” Chat crowed with joy while slitted eyes watched her disappear from sight.

“…Multi-who?” Felix questioned awkwardly, wondering why the cat hero appeared to be so excited.

Chat chuckled softly before turning to him, “Multimouse. She’s smart and funny and strong and sweet…She’s one of the temporary heroes, our greatest strategist (next to my Bugaboo, of course)! Our heavy hitter!”

“Is she some sort of stealth hero? I don’t recall ever hearing about her online…” In fact, he had researched all the heroes before this trip and found not a single mention of a mouse hero.

The black clad cat deflated slightly and sighed, “Yeah…she’s only been out once or twice before this…never really been caught on camera but something happened last time and…well, Ladybug said we couldn’t call her back out. I guess Milady decided it was enough of an emergency… Not that I mind!”

Felix took in the goofy smile that slowly stretched across Chat’s face while he looked off in the direction Multimouse had retreated. Suddenly he felt nauseous, as if something ugly was twisting up and clenching in his stomach, causing his neck to burn red. Unable to control his emotions any longer, his tone became clipped and hard as a lump of anger gripped his vocal cords. “Aren’t you…supposed to be in love with Ladybug?” Did he sound jealous? It was definitely not jealousy!

Chat Noir’s eyes widened comically, his arms swinging wildly in the air as if to physically dispel any misunderstanding. “Yes! Milady is the only one for me! B-but—wait...” Green eyes narrowed with suspicion and the cat stalked closer to the injured teen, his entire demeanor flipping like a switch: from nervous house cat to dangerous panther. Felix struggled to keep himself calm and attention locked on the approaching predator so that he could leap away at a moment’s notice. The cat leaned into his face before a huge grin broke through, his voice a smug murmur. “Do you have a crush on Mousinette?”

Now it was Felix’s turn to panic – eyes widening, heart racing, body trembling, and face burning red – as the image of a grey suited, blue-eyed Valkyrie popped up in his head. His mind replayed the way the breeze tugged at the ribbons in her hair, the obvious strength her petite body contained while effortlessly holding him, the intelligence that showed in her eyes, the blush painted across her cheeks and a giggle that made something inside him sing!

‘Oh…’ he thought dazedly. Sure, Felix had always heard of ‘love at first sight’ but had excused it as nothing more than romantic fantasy! Some unrealistic and overused movie trope! Yet here he was…falling for some mystery heroine that hadn’t even spoken more than a handful of meaningless sentences to him. Mortification bled through the warmth expanding in his chest.

Chat Noir’s grin became sharp, as if he could hear the hazel-eyed blond’s heart beating in time to the heroine’s name. “You and I aren’t so different; I was the same way for Ladybug. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

~~~

He refreshed the Ladyblog and scrolled through the latest posts for possibly the hundredth time, the habit becoming a daily routine for the blond. There was no real evidence of Multimouse’s existence, merely anecdotal or the occasional passing comment about a pink jump rope appearing during a time of crisis. The only images captured during the Jester akuma were blurry and taken at too far of a distance, Felix checked. Thoroughly. He questioned his memory more with each passing day as little details seemed to slip away, like a well-worn film played so many times that the sound and images began to distort. He could recall that her voice and laughter were sweet but why was it so hard to remember the exact tone? Was she really as lovely as in his dreams? Did her eyes sparkle like the sun glancing off a lake’s surface or were they more like the color of a cloudless sky at noon? What was the shape of her face like again? Did she have freckles?

Frustrated, the blond refreshed the page yet again.

The next time that Felix visited Paris, he watched the skies for a streak of grey and pink. No matter how many akumas appeared, it was simply the original pair: Ladybug and Chat Noir. His attention was divided between his phone and the skies, constantly hoping for another glimpse of the heroine that stole his heart; enough that even his cousin seemed to notice the level of his distraction.

“Hey Fe, you seem really out of it. You okay?” Adrien asked, concern seeming to drip from every pore.

Felix sighed and dropped his phone back down into his lap, “Yes. Apologies, cousin, I’m simply…” He made a motion with one hand as if scrolling through a list of words before settling on one, “…distracted.”

The model approached and hung himself over the back of the couch like a discarded throw blanket, glancing down at what had captured his interest on the screen. “Oh, are you checking out the Ladyblog? My friend, Alya, actually runs it!”

The hazel eyed teen turned with interest, desperately he tried to keep hope from bleeding into his voice. “Do you know if she has a database of images of the various heroes, perchance?”

“Besides the gallery on the blog itself, no, I don’t think so. Why?”

Felix’s posture deflated a bit as he stifled a groan, “It’s…nothing.��

“Are you looking for a certain hero, maybe?” Adrien innocently asked.

“No!” The Londoner answered a little too quickly, unable to keep his ears from turning bright red as he denied the question emphatically.

A playful grin spread across the green-eyed blond’s face, “Yes, you are, Fe! Who is it? Was it a temporary hero during that attack you were caught up in last time?”

He gripped his phone and clenched his teeth, attempting to stifle the spread of the blush now blooming across his cheeks. Good gods, he would never live this down…but his cousin was a fan of the heroes, surely, he might have some information? He hated feeling vulnerable. Felix pressed his eyes shut as if pained to admit it, his voice coming out as more of a whispered hiss than he would care to admit. “…Yes.”

Adrien seemed to light up, “Really? Who was it?” Bouncing like a puppy with a new toy, the model’s eyes gleamed. “Viperion? Or perhaps Ryuko? Rena Rouge? Or...Carapace?! No judgment.”

Felix scoffed and looked down into his lap pensively, his fingers gliding over the darkened surface of his phone’s screen as he struggled to open up. “No…none of them. She doesn’t appear on the Ladyblog anywhere and there’s no pictures of her in battle…I—”

The model gently set a hand on his shoulder, finally hazel met green. “Hey, it’s okay to have a crush on whoever it is. I mean I…” He watched as his cousin blushed, his eyes looking out the wall of windows with a dreamy, far-off look. Felix couldn’t help but think that his cousin looked like some sort of melancholic-romantic lead pining for their lover. “I’ve…had a huge crush on Ladybug ever since she saved me.”

The formal boy stared at his cousin’s profile, dumbfounded at finding common ground with his lookalike. They had been raised so differently, had lost contact, lost parents, and pursued different routes in life… The model was like sunshine incarnate while the magician resembled that of a thunderstorm. All their lives, Felix had always been compared to Adrien and found lacking. Perhaps they weren’t so different after all?

Adrien sighed softly and turned his gaze back towards him, excited once more. “So? What was she like?”

“She…” He allowed his eyes to drift up briefly as he recalled the encounter once again. “She was…strong and agile. Small, but powerful, like some sort of petite battle angel.”

“Yeah… I’m a sucker for a strong woman, too.” Adrien climbed over the sofa and settled beside him with a chuckle, leaning back so that the model’s face looked up at the ceiling. “And beautiful.”

“Graceful,” Felix supplied with an agreeable hum, lost in thought as his eyes drifted down to his lap once again. Fingers tracing the edges of his phone case as the image of bright eyes framed by a pink mask flooded his memories.

“Kind,” his cousin sighed into the air around them, his mind’s eye bringing forward images of his Lady.

“Capable.”

“Smart.”

“Clever.”

“Confident.”

“…yet adorable.”

“Especially how her nose crinkles when she laughs…”

“Laughter that makes your heart dance.”

“And a smile that makes you feel warm all over.”

“With blue eyes as clear as crystal…”

“Hair the color of the midnight sky…”

Felix laughed wryly, “Almost sounds like we’re in love with the same girl.”

“Oh gods, I think we have a type!” Adrien’s whole body shook with his laughter.

“Seems so, cousin!” The formal boy’s chuckles died out as the original issue arose to the forefront of his mind yet again. “At least you can find pictures of Ladybug all over the blog. Multimouse doesn’t appear on camera nor is she called out much. It’s…It’s like she never existed!” He ran a hand through his hair in visible frustration.

“Yeah, I’ve…uh…heard rumors of a mouse hero. But I’ve um, never seen her myself,” the model admitted while twisting his ring. “Wait! What if I ask Chat Noir – he, uh…patrols nearby sometimes – to get you a picture?”

Felix scoffed at the idea, “That’s not likely to happen. Even that cat mentioned that she is hardly ever called out to help. Besides, I don’t need any of the heroes to find out about my…inclinations. They might think I’m some sort of stalker and never call her out again.” Crossing his arms, he glared at the tops of his knees.

“Oh. Um.” Adrien seemed to deflate a little, his eyes twitching back and forth pensively as if trying to find an answer. “Then…what if you describe her to me and I can try to get my friend to draw her for you? His name’s Nathaniel, he’s really good – even has his own Ladybug comic book! Here, I’ll show you some of his work.”

Felix watched as his cousin pulled up a few screenshots he had saved of the bug heroine – obviously full colored, pre-print cells from the final draft – and was begrudgingly impressed. “That…that might just work. I…” He furrowed his brow and cleared his throat; an uncomfortable tightness having lodged deep in his chest. Hazel eyes rose to look into the model’s face once again, his voice a murmur of gratitude. “Thank you, Adrien.”

A genuine smile stretched across the model’s face. “Hey, what is family for?”

~~~

A few weeks later, a small package arrived at Felix’s door in London with a return address from Paris.

Retreating to the privacy of his room, the blond allowed his emotions to go unguarded as he quickly peeled back the tape with anticipation. A small gasp echoed in the silent room as hazel eyes finally laid upon the contents. Inside the rigid packaging and protected by a stiff plastic sleeve, lay three realistic drawings of various sizes and poses, all professionally colored and inked in a way that made it seem almost like the heroine could jump straight off the page.

“Multimouse…” his whispered voice filled with awe and admiration.

Felix pulled the largest image from the sleeve, an action shot that he had described in great detail – repetitively – to Adrien. Jump rope curled around her waist, ribbons blowing in the breeze, her booted feet together and arms extended above her head as she came down upon the akuma… Suddenly he felt as if he was right back in that moment! The artist had drawn her form as if hovering in the air, looking like an instant frozen in time, and filled in the background with a simple watercolor burst that accentuated the grays, pinks, and dark blues in the rest of the piece. With trembling fingers, he reverently traced the curve of Multimouse’s domino mask. He gazed into the bright blue eyes that had bewitched him and haunted his dreams. Somehow Adrien’s artist friend had even perfectly captured the determined sparkle in her eyes!

Gently setting that drawing aside, he pulled the medium sized image out next and found another action shot of the heroine mid-flight. Jump rope extended beyond the paper’s edges, legs extended behind her in freefall, her eyes partially closed against the wind whipping at her face – it was a beautiful vision! However, what captured his interest and stole his breath was the bright smile stretched across her face. She looked so carefree and relaxed, as if she were simply patrolling the rooftops with the rest of the team. Had they used Ladybug for reference? Or did someone see her recently?

No, if she had been seen, it would have been on the Ladyblog.

Placing that piece beside the other on his desktop, Felix finally pulled the last from the sleeve. Unlike the others, this one was laminated and covered by a sticky note in Adrien’s usual scrawl.

Dear Fe, I asked Nath to make this one small enough to fit in your wallet. We asked my very good friend, Marinette, to pose for it. I hope you like it! ~AA

The hazel eyed teen scoffed and peeled it away, freezing once he revealed the image beneath. The mouse heroine was pictured sitting on the edge of a building, reclined back on one arm while glancing over her shoulder almost flirtatiously, the sunset and Eiffel Tower behind her so that part of her face was cast in shadow. One delicate hand was brushing her bangs from her eyes, a shy smile upon her lips, her body language open and comfortable. The angle was close enough to make out long lashes and a light blush on her freckled cheeks. It almost felt as if she were looking right at him!

Knees shaking from the weight of his overwhelming emotions and eyes still locked on the small drawing, he sat heavily into the desk chair with a sharp creak in protest. Felix raised a hand to his chest, as if trying to calm the rapidly thumping organ currently threatening to flee from his body. His imagination ran wild – supplanting memories of the Jester with daydreams of shy smiles, sweet giggles, and teasing banter as they watched the sunset…

‘Wow…’ thought Felix, looking back over the three drawings before his eyes settled back on the one still in his hand. ‘I don’t know how I’m ever going to return the favor for this… Perhaps I can help my cousin with his crush the next time I visit?’

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

~~~~~~~Author's Notes: I had a this thought and decided to type it up. I'm the only one to blame here. I couldn't stop myself if I tried. I swear, I don't know why my brain spits this stuff out…

Jester lines are modified prose from character dialogue in 'The Court Jester' (1955).

Jester's visuals were inspired by a combination of Spinel (corrupted) from 'Steven Universe', Joker from 'Batman', and Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Longlegs from 'Poppy's Playtime'. Disturbing enough? Check.

Marotte: Originally the medieval fool's stick or sceptre, a short rod topped with a small head.

Adrien hints about Marinette's secret mouse identity, said hint goes right over Felix's head.

[wisttwist]

jester's privilege

(past) nebu (nathaniel) & reader, morningstar (ithaqua) & reader cliche scene where the hero enters the defeated kings bedroom and all the concubines are crawling all over him but instead of a dozen concubines trying to seduce him it's a single crusty manservant making middle school tier jokes warnings: mentions of canon typical war crimes etc

...

There was a small, breathtakingly ugly cushion in the corner of the room, bright primary colours clashing with the creams and golds of the late Tower Lord's interior design (which was also ugly, Helel would like to append).

A similarly small and breathtakingly ugly servant (?) sits on this cushion, presently engaged in thrilling (mind numbing) icebreakers (he would like to break some ice over your head, yes) with the Sun Eater as he idly turned over Nebuchadnezzar's royal paraphernalia.

"So he doesn't bed you and you aren't politically valuable. Then why are you in here, and not out there?" He gestures to the smoke from the mines, visible from the tower window.

"He doesn't send me to the quarries because I'm special. I'm his special boy."

"He calls you that?"

"No."

Helel made the temporary generalization that conversation with you was a waste of oxygen and stalks off to continue his inspection of the room, deaf to your remarks.

A voice comes from right behind his shoulder. "What do I call you?" Somehow, you'd soundlessly traversed the cluttered floor to stand uncomfortably close.

He scowls. So much for ignoring you. "Don't you know who I am?"

"I do live in a cell." You mumble, picking your nose and wiping the snot on your pants.

For a second, the Eclipse considers retelling the story of his conquest for the nth time but honestly, he wasn't sure how much more gloating he could wring out of it, especially with this audience. "It doesn't matter who I am. Just know that I'm the new king."

"Your voice is very familiar."

"No it's not."

"Very well. It's not." You fidget on the spot, bell-studded clothes jingling. "Do I call you sire? Or are you more formal?"

"Do as you wish."

Satisfied with his vague and minimalist answers, he returns to his prior task of sorting through the Sun King's old shit; mentally categorizing them for later: keep, trash, take to the thrift store, incinerate. Surveying the shelves, he sighs. This would be a lengthy task.

…

"Do you want a tour?" Breathing on the back of his neck, again. Uncomfortably close, again.

Helel gives you a firm push back. "No."

"Are you still wondering what my purpose was?" You chirp, undeterred as ever.

"If I recall correctly, the Sun King already had a clown in his court. I freed him way back when." Maybe if Helel paid more attention to that event, he'd note that the Encroached did mention an irritating bell-wearing obstacle between him and his master. Not that you can prepare for this brand of mild but persistent evil. "But considering this room is full of useless junk, it's not hard to guess why you're here."

Ignoring his jab, you sidle close once more, plotting another invasion attempt on his personal space. "Jesters and clowns are two different things."

Yeah, you were different. The other guy was less annoying. Mercifully, he elects to give a noncommittal grunt instead of mentioning this detail, hoping that you'll lose interest in trying to continue your conversation.

The Sun Eater lifts up a decanter of mystery fluid (pale and golden like everything else). He's about to lean in to give it a smell test when you stop him. "That's not wine, sire."

Owlishly, his head swivels around to face you.

You close your eyes sagely and pause for dramatic effect, wasting more of Helel's time on waiting for you to elaborate. "It's pee."

The decanter shatters on the floor. You watch him frantically wipe his hands off on the expensive curtains. "What the fuck?"

A good poker face is a crucial survival skill for your occupation, but given your employer is currently burning in hell, you are very much off the clock right now. You double over with laughter. "Oh heavens, sire. You're too gullible, oh stars and suns, oh- Oh!"

Helel's clawed hand yanks you up by the hair. "Are you five years old. Greater men have died for lesser-"

"Let me down, please, sire!" The twinge of stifled laughter slurring your pleas for your life don't help your case. "I'm sorry! Please!"

You're dropped in a crumpled, jingling heap on the floor. Briefly, the Morning Star considers sending you to the gallows, but is it really worth the effort? Your transgressions, frequent as they were, weren't significant enough for that. Besides, on a smaller level he won't admit, his pride refuses to let you get to him. "I'll take you up on the tour offer." He declares with finality, crossing his arms. "You touch everything before I do."

"Yes, sire!" You jump up to attention, back ramrod straight in a mockery of military obedience. "Does that make me the royal toucher? Or king's toucher? That's like being a king's taster but instead of tasting-"

Your voice trails off as you feel Helel's glare burning through his mask and into your skull.

"Ahem. On the left, we have war spoils from the southeastern peninsula…"

… 

Truly, the home renovation aspect of overthrowing corrupt tyrants is underestimated. The remainder of the afternoon was spent sorting doohickeys into piles in the middle of the floor for future storage. Or rather, Helel did the majority of the heavy lifting while you (un)helpfully stood in the corner, regaling him with tales of the previous regime and the exact happenings of court life. He wants to tell you to stop talking for 5 minutes and do something useful but you would probably cite the importance of 'moral support' and try to weasel your way out of it. Besides, even if you were trying to do something of substance, it probably involved inventing new ways to fuck up moving furniture, fiddling with his temper even further. You were like a mosquito, he decides. Too little to do real damage, too much to be ignored.

"There was this one time I was doing a bit about his virility and he said he could prove me wrong right there if I wanted." You were presently cross legged on an intricate rug (tribute from the Sun King's unfortunate allies), juggling a series of crystal balls (priceless artifacts, stained with blood by the 'divine' conqueror). "So I said 'You should know that I'm a eunuch', and he went, 'It doesn't matter.' We were hilarious."

The Usurper scratches his chin, half listening. It didn't sound hilarious, just weird. "You're sure he didn't bed you?"

"A joke is just a joke, you know."

"Okay. Just checking." Helel paused. "Then are you really a eunuch?"

"Are you gonna check that too?"

"No." You were really getting your money's worth from that previous temporary generalization.

…

After the walls and shelves were bare, and the loot was bundled up in leather bags, the Eclipse sank into one of the plush chairs, kicking his feet onto the table and massaging his temples. With any luck, you were as tired as he was, and he could slip away while you rested.

You yawned. "Ahh. That's enough for one day, I think." Helel watched as you plopped back down on your hideous cushion, procuring a lit pipe from thin air and taking a hefty drag. "Will you be looking for new furnishings?"

"Probably. This stuff is way too tacky."

A wisp of smoke drifts past, and the Morning Star feels that tell-tale foreboding feeling behind his shoulder again. "Will you be looking for new castle staff?" You bat your eyelashes.

He meets your expectant gaze with the exhaustion of someone who just fought another war and lost. "You're staying?"

Deliberately misinterpreting his question as a statement, you perk up, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, I can't refuse a direct order such as that! Especially not from his most esteemed, illustrious (and if I may add, very handsome) Majesty!" Bowing at the waist with a bell-bedecked flourish, you shoot back to eye level with hands clasped, nearly butting him in the head with your stupid hat. "When do I start work?"

...

(jump cut to jester being tossed out of tower window) this is too long to be funny but idc anymore. next time i'll write romance but i needed to fulfill my desire to annoy him