#knightriders whiteface

[x-xphantomime]

get silly with it

[h3llish0ttt]

YALL- he’s too damn cute. JOHN AMPLAS AND HIS BABY FACE>>>

also peep his greasepaint coming off 😭😭

[nerdyqueerr]

Ok done Knightriders posting for tn. You all need to stop thirsting over that background clown acrobat guy btw what the hell is wrong with you people

[pumpkinpowder]

Them <3

[obscureoperations]

Whiteface is just too cute to exist

He really is tho! It’s not even fair!! I mean look at him!! Ngl I’d love it if he would teach me to juggle!

🥹😭

[poparthuriana]

@empressofthelibrary’s tags

I made the questionable decision to check out the Knightriders tag before I’d seen the movie, which gave me the impression that Whiteface the mime was a well-liked side character, but no. The most accurate descriptor might be “recurring extra”. Sometimes he’s entertaining, like when people are having a conversation and there’s just randomly a juggling dude half in the frame, but the only thing he does which affects other characters is hold a baby at one point, and someone else could have done that too. Altogether he changes very little in the movie. You don’t see people talking about other lineless characters. You also don’t see people talking about Pippin, which surprises me. He’s a sympathetic, well-acted, non-stereotypically portrayed gay character in an ‘80s movie who has his own story arc and a fair number of good lines (“Were we just married on radio?”) but seems to have been ignored by the fandom. Punch and Rocky, the other queer characters, say fairly little, but they’re much larger presences than Whiteface. Rocky seems to get a little attention, at least. Anyway, that’s my longwinded way of saying I agree. Also, the Julie movie sounds great. My interpretation was that she was supposed to be one of the Elaines from Arthurian legend—maybe Elaine of Corbenic—but it’s still awful and makes no sense without that possibly erroneous context.

Y'know, knowing this website, I should have expected the Knightriders tag to be full of people drooling over the acrobat jester with zero lines

Setting that aside, it was a very good movie about the line between feeding the soul vs feeding the stomach, and how and where you find the balance. My only hangup was that Alan shouldn't have left Julie at that house. I wanna see her show up on her own bike later and join for real.

[reebunny]

Watched Knightriders the other day with @pretty-h8-mach1ne and I got screenshots of John Amplas/Whiteface since I've seen nobody do so which I know why.

Not only is he a side character but a swift one who is off screen as fast as he comes on screen.

Either way enjoy these (kinda low quality) pictures

(1/2)

[obscureoperations]

MC says the most absurd and lewd things to Mr Mime whilst heavily drunk out of their mind. 💀

I think he'd be terrified. I don't know, I'm in a weird ass mood

Omg I love it! The man’s would have no idea how to react😳 Especially if the two of you were alone in the tent and you start to whisper all the things you wanted to do to him! 👀

I think it’d be hilarious especially if you were typically the shy type. To hear such words coming from your mouth?! But if you weren’t.. it made it all the more embarrassingly alluring. He knew you weren’t just drunk.. you were telling the truth. You wanted to do what to him?!?

I can picture him completely flustered… blushing despite the grease paint. Flushed to the tip of his ears as he buries his face in his hands.

[queer-ragnelle]

@ultimatecryptid Was it Knightriders (1981)? It was a very clever handling and also funny since almost no one else had Arthurian names??? There was literally Ewain, Marhaus, Bors, Kay…..that’s it. Oh and Merlin. But everyone else had common modern names or carny names like Punch or Whiteface the jester. Then again…Morgan works for Mordred only if Morgan le Fay isn’t there too. So many options….

hey question for ya-- if you were to rename mordred into something more "normie" (like how percival can become percy), what would you choose and why?

*context: i'm writing an arthur play that's messing with the lines btwn modern theatre and myth, so i'm trying to use names that are reminiscent of the characters' traditional ones but also unique to these newer characters, now*

Hey there! This sounds super cool!

Mordred doesn’t shorten as neatly as Percival does it? Haha. For me, it would depend on the tone of your project.

If Mordred is a serious character, “Mo” works. That’s what I call him for short. It’s simple and doesn’t distract too much/feel forced. Although I didn’t care for the book, The Winter Knight by Jes Battis called him Mo, which was far superior to renaming Gawain “Wayne.”

If it’s a more light hearted/satirical play, “Mordie” would be funny. Sort of in the same vein Galahad is nicknamed “Gally” in The Book of Mordred by Peter Hanratty and in A Young Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1995).

Secret third option—renaming Mordred something completely different from his medieval name to conceal his “true” identity. If you go that route, I’d advise keeping the first letter “M” at the very least. I know Gawain’s name changes drastically between texts, but calling Mordred “Carl” or something would really kill the vibe. You could find something with the same sounds too. Morris. Mordecai. Morley. You get the idea.

Hope that helps! Just my opinion of course. Good luck with your writing! Take care. :^)

[obscureoperations]

okay literally whenever you describe whiteface as " a bundle of nerves "

I don't why

But it gives me this warm feeling like I wanna hold him in my hands and slowly squeeze the life out of him in a loving way-

Idk bye bye, have a lovely day/night/other

Ello lovely!

Trying to remember when I actually called him that.. but it sounds like something I would say. I mean look at him! He seems like such an avid performer yet weird and anxious in real life…Just imagine how nervous he would get if you moved to grasp his hand..

Tbh the character himself is just super cute! Just how did he wrangle himself into the gang.. where did they find him? Was ithe mime aspect simply a character, or was he really hearing impaired?

Such an iconic character but with limited screen time..(coughAllOfJA’scharacters)

[obscureoperations]

okay but what does whiteface do when reader is on her monthly

like- I dont think hed know what to do

Oh man, he would absolutely have no idea what to do!😭 For some reason, I figure that this is his first actual relationship.. so he’d have numerous questions.

I think his first reaction was to immediately consult with Merlin. Surely he had some sort of cure. Not realizing that it was a completely normal occurrence… he only wanted to find a solution. They were in pain and he couldn’t bear it, though I don’t think he’d have much of a problem with blood.

He tried to be as helpful as he could, he’d often put off performing if his partner needed him. They never really did, not wanting to throw off his entire schedule for something so natural for them. They loved the fact that he wanted to be so attentive, but it was never really that big of a deal.

With that in mind, I don’t think Whitey would have a problem with period xes.. if that was what his partner truly wanted. Dispite his silence.. the man is not easily phased. He just wants to make sure they were okay.

[reebunny]

(2/2+bonus)

More pictures yay

Bonus poster image I found somewhere I forgot (probably google)

[obscureoperations]

Martin and Whiteface fucking the reader.

if you're doing requests/okay with writing this

Ohhh man..now this is a thot! For some reason I've always pinned Whiteface as being a service bottom..but listen! It was a bit hard to try and get the universes to mesh so I said fuck it..lets goooo! 

~

At times you had to wonder how you found yourself in such situations, but in the moment you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You were on fire, heartbeat hammering against your ribs as you lean back against the familiarity that was Martin. Long nimble fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you prone-- his tongue moves expertly over your heated flesh. It was too much...the limber sprite was full of surprises. How on earth was he that good with his mouth?

Martin begins to press kisses at the nape of your neck, strong arms wrap around you tightly. Whispering not so sweet nothings against your ear.

"Look at him y/n... he wants to devour you.."

A broken moan escapes your throat, you glance down to see Martin smooth the Jester's bangs away from his face. Splotches of white began to fade revealing bits of his actual skin-- their similarities were uncanny. Like something from one of your fantasies. For the longest time Martin was enough, the boy was actually perfect for you. The two of you understood each other in an a nearly supernatural way. He was everything to you, but the sheer erotic indulgence of having two? How could you possibly refuse?"

Despite the mime’s eerie silence, his breath comes out in heated puffs. Small moans forming at the back of his throat as he begins to stroke himself in full. This was the first time that he was allowed to take you--his usual role in the bedroom was strictly limited to prep and clean up. He knew his place. You would often times find yourself staring at the man-- in quiet fascination as he patches you up after a particularly rough session. He was beautiful that much you could tell despite the make up. Once he removed it they were damn near identical.

You had practically begged Martin for weeks. You only wanted to know if the two of them felt the same. In a way your boyfriend couldn’t be upset, they were both so strangely identical. After a few weeks or so, Martin reluctantly agreed. 

 At least he seemed to be enjoying the view. His hands began to flitter across your torso. Kneading at your breasts almost painfully as another wave of release washes over. 

Spine arching like a bow, Martin takes a moment to cup your chin. Craning your neck back gently, he kisses you softly  “Tell me, y/n.. do you prefer his mouth or mine?” 

Before you have a chance to answer he shifts away, leaving you momentarily cold. Sinking back against the sheets, grasping at the comforter..in your haze, you watch as the mime emerges from between your legs. Bathed in moonlight, you would have sworn that it was Martin, the blotchy greasepaint made it all the more surreal. Your legs ached, the wonderful feeling forming at the pit of your stomach... Martin was prompting you to turn over.

On your hands and knees, staring at the cracking drywall, the Jester enters you with one sharp thrust. You cry out, it was all so blissfully familiar,but now you had Martin watching the two of you like a hawk. You could feel the weight of his attention, eyes glued to your face as he smoothes the bangs away from your eyes.

 All eyes on you as he gently cups your chin, kissing you sweetly. 

“Go on baby.. use it.. “he whispers, rising to his knees. He positions his cock in front of your parted lips.

The jester begins to smooth his hands across your back in a soothing caress as he pick up the pace. You weren’t used to this position, Martin preferred to have you on your back. Face to face. He could see you, and kiss you freely whenever he wanted. The unfamiliar angle causes something inside to ignite, every stroke felt better than the last.

The tip of Martin’s cock probes your lips, out of instinct you take him into your willing mouth. The slight saltiness on your tongue causes a moan to form in your throat.. the familiar taste spurs you on.

You were reeling.. the blunt tips of the jesters nails begin to dig into your hips. His thrusts becoming more erratic. You wondered if he would actually come inside of you. Surprisingly the three of you never discussed it. Would Martin be upset? As if on cue, our boyfriend speaks up. “You should see him.. y/n. H-he’s completely wrecked..” He whispers. You can feel the man tremble behind you, grasping your hips and pumping into you in a frenzy. 

“I think he’s gonna cum soon..y/n..Would you like that? You want him to cum deep inside?” The teasing tone causes your ears to burn, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. You weren’t really in any place to answer, instead you let out a moan, the vibrations causes Martin to cry out, grasping a fistful of your hair. “J--just like that..” he whispers. 

The backs of your thighs and triceps start to burn, your jaw was tired. Somehow the two men had it in them to keep going. Pausing from time to time, Martin releases your mouth to kiss you sweetly, massage your jaw--you were pretty sure the mime was simply edging himself behind you. Removing himself from you entirely, fingers playing over your heated flesh as he teases himself with his other hand. You were still surprised at the curious expression on Martin’s face as he observes Whiteface intently.

 With a sigh he shifts back onto his knees, positioning himself in front of your mouth. As if on cue,The mime follows suit. He enters you sharply, holding your hips in place as he slowly rolls his hips. You were on fire, the preciseness of the angle causes you your knees to grow weak. His breath comes out in heated puffs, barely audible moans and the occasional gasp. You were momentarily regretful you couldn’t see his face. Overcome with the urge to watch him unravel...you knew that one day you would get him to speak.

[obscureoperations]

What if they accidentally hurt the reader. '-'

Then, like the reader gets really quiet... and nervous around them....

I don't know... You don't have to write this, it's just something I was curious about...

Ohh man that would be a rough situation for everyone involved. Especially if it was early on in the relationship.Martin especially wouldn't want to lose any progress with you--he already felt like he was walking on eggshells.

Martin

Would be completely distraught, already convinced he had royally screwed up. You were the most important person in the world to him..why did he have to be so clumsy? The sight of the bruise on your upper cheek makes him sick--the fact that he was the one who caused it. Internalizing his emotions he always felt deep down he was a monster. He only proved that he was capable of hurting you even in his sleep.

You had long since gotten used to his night terrors, and after a while they seemed to subside. The episodes were far and few in between, though last night's episode was particularly severe. He could feel the weight of the wooden stake as pierced the flesh, the sound of it crunching through bone. You were there in the background sobbing hysterically as you tried to tear away from the hooded figures. I was too late, he could feel coldness seep into his bones until everything eventually went black.

The next thing he knew, the lamp was knocked over from the dresser, he was sweating profusely, and you were clutching your cheek. There was a slight ache in his right hand, his knuckles were stiff. "Y/n... what did I do?"

He already knew that you had forgiven him.. but it was only natural for you to be a bit wary. The way you would flinch away from him the next couple days causes his heart to break. He would go out of his way to give you space--He even offered to sleep on the couch until you felt comfortable enough again. You were having none of it even the night of the incident. After he cleaned you up in the bathroom, the two of you silently went back to sleep.

His actions can only be described as gentle. The tone of his voice when he would speak you you, you had to know it was an accident right? Checking in to see how you are, bringing you small gifts just to get you to smile. He even considered talking to someone about the nightmares.. a doctor. The thought alone made him sick but if it could prevent him from accidentally hurting you again, it was a calculated risk.

Whiteface

He would be a bundle of nerves, almost to anxious to perform. It was an accident, he was only trying to show you one of his acrobatic tricks-you'd practically begged him to teach you. Against his better judgement, he complied--after all you were rather astute. It was nothing too dangerous, it didn't involve fire or heights--but somehow you managed to sprain your wrist. He felt awful.

He didn't understand how he managed to let you slip--fine tuned reflexes from years of practice. It was over faster than it began, you sat on the grass clutching your wrist. He rushed over to you in a frenzy, noting how you instinctively linch. He face falls as a wave of sadness washed over him. You come to your senses as he ushers you to the tent.

You weren't intentionally avoiding him, but there was a slight skittishness about you for the next couple days. He tried not to let it get to him, it reminded him of a small animal after getting injured. It only made him want to protect you, but he felt it better to give you some space. Accompanying Merlin when he brought you herbal teas to help the swelling. He remained quietly perched at your side. The day that you finally reached out to take his hand he was elated. Things wold soon be back to normal again.

Abe

Now that would be a bit of a different story, he might even get annoyed at your skittish behavior. You were acting like a child..surely you had to know by now that he'd never hurt you intentionally. He was the one to defend you from his brothers from day one. Abe was no fool, he knew that you had to trust im--at least just a little by this point in your relationship. He had to admit you managed to get to him..worming your way into his heart.

That's why it was hard for him not to up and call you stupid for getting hurt in such way. You knew not to play with any of the knives in his collection. They were special. The flicker of irritation as he walked in the room to find you standing over the wooden box. You had Ace in your hand.. the black thirteen inch bowie knife--the one he's owned since he was ten.

Never one to be careless with blades, he calmly walked over to where you were standing pinching the bridge of his nose at a safe distance. "Pookie...what on earth are you doing?" You nearly drop the knife at the sound of his voice--that wold have been a really bad thing. Out of instinct he reaches for it in such a way, it slices the palm of your hand. Coulda been worse.

While extremely apologetic for invading his space he could see you waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even after he bandages you up, and you're eating supper..you barely spare him a glance. He knew you were sorry for the intrusion, but somehow you seemed so afraid. He didn't like it. It reminded him of the early days in your relationship, in his opinion, the two of you had come so far. Surely you knew that he would never physically harm you, even when you went out of your way to annoy him.

He gives you some space, almost mocking the incident--calling you a naughty lil thing for playing with knives. If he could get you to see him making fun of the situation, you had to lighten up right. Eventually after a day of your nonsense, he has to sit you down in the kitchen. "Y/n.. you apologized and I forgave you. Lets just forget about it now." As you move to speak. "I already know, This ain't some weird trick. I want us to go back to being nice to each other."

[obscureoperations]

them w/an s/o apologizing for being a pathetic waste of time <3

Noooo! 🥺😭Mkay here goes..

Martin:

It was rare that Martin got to witness you in such a way, usually you were the beacon of positivity. It was one of the things that first attracted him to you..your ability to light up a room. You balanced each other out perfectly, you offset his somber demeanor. He found himself starting to smile and laugh more from the very day that he met you.

But this was something different entirely, the young man had no idea what to do. You seemed to grow progressively somber and withdrawn over the past few days. He found you sitting at the edge of the windowsill around two thirty in the afternoon. He had gotten off work early and was surprised to see your car in the driveway. He was so excited to come in and see you.

He watched you for a moment from the doorframe, with your head in your hands. What was wrong. The moment he heard you sniffle, he's instantly at your side.. you were still startled to see him. Wiping at your eyes, you try your best to offer a cheery smile. Martin was having none of it. Wiping at your cheeks leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"Y/n?"

"I-Im sorry..."

He was extremely confused. He was used to being the one to dish out apologies. With a sigh, he leans in pressing his forehead against yours.

"Sorry for what love?"

A woosh of air escapes your lungs and Martin pulls you close.

"F-for being such a waste of space."

He was baffled, honestly at a loss for words. What did you mean a waste of space? You were the most important person in the world to him, surely you knew that.

"Don't..y/n.."

More tears begin to stream down your cheeks , and st as qickly Martin wipes them away.

"Don't ever say that. I--I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you."

Whiteface:

The past few months sped by in a blur, the mime was the happiest he had ever been. To think the two of you met completely by accident when he spotted your bike at the side of the road. The gang pulled over instantly when they saw you crumpled down on the pavement. The mirror of your bike was completely shattered laying a few feet to the left.

Needless to say they came to a complete still and alerted the medic, Whiteface had no idea what was going on. Carefully peering out the side of the traveling tent, he finally realized there was an accident. Not one to be able to stomach blood and gore, the slender sprite stayed in the tent. Oddly anxious, he found himself praying that this stranger would be alright. 

Days pass and apparently they decided to scoop you up and take you to your actual destination. They didn't mind, Billy had officially taken the crown of another city, so for the most part the crew was just celebrating the win. He liked to stay in the tent with Merlin as he tends to your wounds and brings you sacred offerings. Things that would help you heal, Small satchels filled with various powders.

He grew to really enjoy your presence and for the most part, you seemed to like the company. You always made a point to apologize for being such an inconvenience.. The mime tried his best to assure that was not the case. Personal improvisational shows, juggling various objects he fond in the room. The sound of your laughter was msic to his ears--it was rare that he got to get this close to his audience.

As time passes, the mime finds himself liking you more than he actually should. The moment he arose, he couldn't wait to get to your bunker. He wanted to see how well Merlin's magic was working. You seemed to grow stronger by the day, and it excited him--but at the same time left him with a sense of dread. You were gonna leave eventually. That much could have been expected, but the mime really didn’t think about that. Too wrapped up in basking in your  presence-- it surprised him to find you quietly sniffling in the corner of the room one morning.

The moment, he unzip the tent you appear startled, quickly wiping at your eyes. His first thought was that you were in pain, and contemplated calling for Merlin. You try your best to play it off. “Mornin’ sunshine..” That was the nickname you officially gave him. He was having none of it.. the sprite eases his way into the tent, clasping it behind him, before rushing to your side.

In an attempt to meet your gaze, you glance away even as he moves to cup your cheeks. Wiping the stray tears away, his heart hammers against his ribs like a caged bird. This was the closest he’s ever been to you. Actually touching you in a way not merely in passing. He hated seeing you in pain. What happened? Whiteface tries his best to get you to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” you finally whisper. At this point he was completely baffled. He settles on lightly pressing his forehead against yours, silently hoping that you’d continue to speak.

“I’m sorry for being such a waste of space..” 

Where on earth was this coming from.. did someone say something? The wheels begin to spin in his mind. All of the gang, himself included were happy to have you along for the ride. The more the merrier. You told such funny stories from your travels, if anything you seemed to bring new life to the crew. A solo cyclist.. none of them could fathom such a thing.

A few more tears spill which you promptly wipe away, he could  tell you were growing increasingly embarrassed. 

“I’m healing up now.. I should probably try to work on my bik-”

In an instant, His lips are on yours, just lightly..as if testing the waters. You can feel his heartbeat hammering against his ribs..he was so nervous. But why?

You draw him close as you deepen the kiss

Abe:

Sweetness was not in the realm of Abe’s vocabulary, something seemed to switch over the day that he met you. Shivering, curled away at the furthest corner of the kennel--repulsed at the sound of his voice. He had nearly beaten his brother to a bloody pulp the moment he had the audacity to slap you. you were his. No harvest, no offerings. You were going to stay in that house with him. You were going to love him eventually.

 Abe left Luke stalking off to his room with a broken nose and quite a few bruises--at this point he didn’t really care. The hose was empty, Luke had gone off to take out his aggression, Cynthia left to collect some herbs. He could hear you scurrying around in the kennel and decided it was time for you to eat.

Taking his time to heat up a can of soup on the gas stove, Abe begins rummaging through the cabinets. In search of garlic powder, black pepper, anything that would make the meal in itself all the more rewarding. With a sigh, he carries the steaming bowl over to the kennel, only to find you huddled up at the farthest corner of the cage.

“Pookie!” He whistles, kicking at the kennel causing you to wince and cover your ears. So cute. He loosens a few buttons on his shirt before easing the steaming bowl into the cage.

“You need to eat darlin’“

You practically convulse, you had no idea when he slipped open the locks. You needed to escape but the warm savoury scent began to overwhelm you. Plain chicken sop the way your dad used to make. The scent was both comforting and completely nauseating. More tears begin to spill. Incoherent words as you try and convince him to let you go. Not good for the harvest. You weren’t a virgin. Yo had so many impurities in your system.

“I-’m just-- a waste of space.. please just let me go..”

You weren’t a waste of anything. You were his chance at a semblance or normality.

Abe found himself leaning in reaching for the lapel of your shirt. He presses his face to your neck inhaling your scent.

“You’re not a waste of nothin’ sweetheart. I’ll see if I can get you strong enough to run away from me.”