#the rattlesnake and the jester

[ahhhh-118]

THE RATTLESNAKE AND THE JESTER PAGE 5-6 🐍🍎🎪🎭

Page 3-4 - Page 7-8 (WIP)

[shizuma-akira]

Some random ass ZM OCs of mine I haven't drawn in months so they got yassified

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||Helluva Boss muse tag dump||

~Fizzarolli (Helluva Boss)

~Blitzo(Helluva boss)

~Verosika Mayday(Helluva boss)

~Striker (Helluva Boss)

~Asmodeus (Helluva Boss)  

~Millie (Helluva boss)

~Barbie wire(Helluva boss)

~Glitz (Helluva Boss)

~Glam (Helluva Boss)

[flightpolling]

All Polls | Results

If you are looking for a specific gene I would recommend ctrl+f to find this list is Long :) Gene Polls will be linked as/when they are posted and updated with Overall winning opinion once they close

Modern/Parallel Primaries

Bar - Positive Leaning Neutral (36.6%)

Basic - Neutral (44.5%)

Boa - Love! (45.4%)

Boulder - Love! (39.5%)

Cherub - Like (35.8%)

Chrysocolla - Love! (49.1%)

Cinder - Love! (60%)

Clown - Like (37.2%)

Crystal - Like ( 30.6%)

Fade - Love! (51.4%)

Falcon  - Like ( 38.6%)

Fern - Like (43.3%)

Flaunt - Love! (59.3%)

Giraffe - Like (43%)

Ground - Neutral (43.4%)

Harlequin - Love! (62.3%)

Iridescent - Like (32.8%)

Jaguar  - Love! (45.6%)

Jupiter - Neutral (42.9%)

Laced - Neutral (40.7%)

Leopard - Like (38.2%)

Lionfish - Like (32.3%)

Metallic - Like (36.6%)

Mosaic - Dislike (32.3%)

Petals - Like (37.1%)

Pharaoh - Love! (42.8%)

Piebald - Like (31.4%)

Pinstripe - Like (37.6%)

Poison - Love! (40%)

Python - Love! (49.2%)

Ribbon - Like (41.3%)

Ripple - Positive-leaning Neutral (35.6%)

Savannah - Like (41%)

Skink - Love! (45.6%)

Slime - Like (30%)

Speckle - Neutral (36.1%)

Starmap - Love! (42%)

Stitched - Neutral (28.3%)

Swirl - Like (44.7%)

Tapir - Like (41.3%)

Tide - Love! (40%)

Tiger - Like (43%)

Vipera - Neutral (41.7%)

Wasp - Love! (42.3%)

Modern/Parallel Secondaries

Alloy - Like (40.5%)

Basic - Neutral (48.9%)

Bee - Love! (69.2%)

Blaze - Love! (57%)

Blend - Love! (44.7%)

Breakup  - Neutral (31.3%)

Butterfly - Love! (44%)

Clouded - Neutral (48.6%)

Constellation - Love! (58.5%)

Current - Positive-leaning Neutral (36.3%)

Daub - Neutral (45.3%)

Edged - Neutral (40.6%)

Eel - Like (41.2%)

Eye Spots - Neutral (44.6%)

Facet - Like (33.8%)

Fissure - Neutral (45.2%)

Flair - Love! (73.7%)

Foam - Love! (51%)

Freckle - Neutral (39.7%)

Hex - Neutral (43.1%)

Hypnotic  - Negative-leaning Neutral (3.7%)

Jester - Love! (54.8%)

Malachite - Love! (48.6%)

Marbled - Like (45.4%)

Morph - Like (42.4%)

Myrid - Love (46.6%)

Noxtide - Love! (44.8%)

Paint - Neutral (33.5%)

Paisley - Like (41.5%)

Patchwork - Like (26.7%)

Peregrine - Like (40.5%)

Rosette - Like (34%)

Saddle - Like (48.9%)

Safari - Neutral (41.7%)

Sarcophagus - Love! (38.1%)

Saturn - Neutral ( 35.4%)

Seraph - Like (35.3%)

Shimmer - Like (36.2%)

Sludge - Like (31.6%)

Spinner  - Like (44.9%)

Striation - Like (41.5%)

Stripes - Neutral (44.1%)

Toxin - Like (41.6%)

Trail - Like (40.5%)

Modern/Parallel Tertiaries

Basic - Neutral (41.6)

Capsule - Love! (49.8%)

Circuit - Neutral (31.6%)

Contour - Positive-leaning Neutral ( 37%)

Crackle - Neutral (34.8%)

Filigree - Positive-Leaning Neutral (29.7%)

Firebreather - Like (34.1%)

Firefly - Like (31.7%)

Flecks - Like (37.5%)

Gembond - Neutral (34.7%)

Ghost - Like (38.3%)

Glimmer - Love! (60.2%)

Glowtail - Like (34.5%)

Keel - Dislike (36.7%)

Koi - Love! (45.1%)

Lace - Neutral ( 35%)

Okapi - Like (37.9%)

Opal  - Love! (40.5%)

Peacock - Like (34.2%)

Points - Neutral (38.1%)

Polkadot - Neutral (32.9%)

Ringlets - Neutral (37.7%)

Runes  - Love! (44.2%)

Scales  - Balanced Neutral (29.4%)

Smirch Dislike (36.8%)

Smoke - Neutral (37.2%)

Soap  - Like (31%)

Sparkle - Like (35.9%)

Spines  - Neutral (41.7%)

Stained - Love! (47.4%)

Thylacine - Like (36.1%)

Underbelly - Love! (36%)

Veined - Like (44%)

Wish - Like (32.2%)

Ancient Primaries

Arapaima (Sandsurge) - Like (36.8%)

Arc (Veilspun)  - Like (36.3%)

Bright (Veilspun) - Leaning Negative Neutral (36.8%)

Candy (Aether) - Neutral (35.8%)

Candycane (Banescale) - Neutral (46.6%)

Caterpillar (Auraboa) - Like (40.8%)

Checkers (Undertide) - Negative-leaning Neutral ( 30.6%)

Chevron (Banescale) - Like (42.7%)

Diamond (Aberration) - Like (38%)

Love (Auraboa) - Like (37.9%)

Marble (Banescale) - Like ( 34.8%)

Mochlus (Auraboa) - Love!! (60.2%)

Octopus (Undertide) - Like (39.3%)

Orb (Aberration) (Auraboa) - Like (31.9%)

Phantom (Gaoler) - Like (45.8%)

Ragged (Banescale) - Love! (45.4%)

Rattlesnake (Sandsurge) (Auraboa)  - Like (35.2%)

Sailfish (Sandsurge) - Love! (43.8%)

Shaggy (Gaoler) - Positive-leaning Neutral (45.7%)

Shell (Veilspun) - Like (37.3%)

Sphinxmoth (Veilspun) - Like (38.8%)

Spool (Aether) - Like (41.3%)

Twinkle (Aether) - Like (34.5%)

Varnish (Auraboa) - Love! (37.2%)

Wicker (Auraboa) - Neutral (44.3%)

Wolf (Undertide) - Positive-leaning Neutral (40.1%)

Wrought (Sandsurge) - Positive-leaning Neutral (37.7%)

Ancient Secondaries

Affection (Auraboa) - Like (38.3%)

Arowana (Sandsurge) - Like (45.9%)

Arrow (Banescale) - Like (43.8%)

Chess (Undertide) - Postive-leaning Neutral (33.1%)

Diamondback (Sandsurge) (Auraboa) - Like (50.3%)

Flicker (Aether) - Like (34.1%)

Hawkmoth (Veilspun) - Like (44.7%)

Icing (Aether) - Neutral (37.2%)

Lacquer (Auraboa) - Like (39.1%)

Larvae (Auraboa) - Like (40.2%)

Loop (Veilspun) - Like (49.3%)

Marlin (Sandsurge) - Love! (47.4%)

Mottle (Banescale)  - Neutral (45.9%)

Pack (Undertide) - Neutral (49. 3%)

Rings (Undertide) - Like (43.2%)

Riopa (Auraboa) - Love! (62.3%)

Spade (Aberration) - Like (42%)

Spire (Sandsurge) - Neutral (45.5%)

Spirit (Gaoler) - Neutral (51.9%)

Streak (Gaoler)  - Neutral (51.7%)

Sugarplum (Banescale) - Negative-leaning Neutral (40.6%)

Tear (Banescale) - Love! (44.4%)

Thread (Aether) - Like (45.6%)

Vivid (Veilspun) - Like (41.3%)

Weaver (Aberration) (Auraboa) - Like (41%)

Web (Veilspun) - Like (48.9%)

Woven (Auraboa) - Neutral (38.1%)

Ancient Tertiaries

Angler (Gaoler) (Veilspun) (Undertide) - Like (34.1%)

Augment (Aberration) (Sandsurge) - Love! (57.8%)

Batty (Auraboa) - Neutral (41.4%)

Beard (Sandsurge) - Love! (28.7%)

Beetle (Veilspun) - Neutral (32.7%)

Blossom (Gaoler) (Undertide) - Love! (41.6%)

Braids (Aberration) (Gaoler) - Neutral (41.2%)

Branches (Veilspun) (Sandsurge) (Auraboa) (Undertide) - Love! (46.4%)

Brightshine (Undertide) (Veilspun)

Carnivore (All, except Auraboa) - Love! (34.7%)

Chitin (Sandsurge) - Like (33.9%)

Crest (Auraboa) (Sandsurge) - Neutral (5.5%)

Crystalline (Aether) (Gaoler) - Neutral (35.5%)

Darts (Sandsurge) - Like (49.1%)

Diaphanous (Veilspun) - Love! (44.1 %)

Fangs (Aberration) - Neutral (41.6%)

Fans (Aberration) (Banescale) (Gaoler) - Positive-leaning Neutral (38%)

Featherbeard (Undertide) - Neutral (41.9%)

Fishbone (Auraboa) (Sandsurge) - Like (39.8%)

Flameforger (Aberration) (Banescale) - Love! (42.1%)

Flutter (Aether) - Like (36.3%)

Frills (Aberration) - Like (31.4%)

Gliders (Banescale) - Neutral (37.9%)

Gnarlhorns (Gaoler) - Love! (38.9%)

Jellyfish (Undertide) - Love! (42,2%)

Jewels (Aberration) - Neutral (40.3%)

Kumo (Aberration) (Sandsurge) - Like ( 34%)

Medusa (Auraboa)  - Love! (34.4%)

Monarch (Aether) (Banescale) - Like (39%)

Mop (Veilspun) - Neutral (35.5%)

Mucus (Aberration) - Neutral (35.4%)

Nudibranch (Undertide) - Like (41%)

Paradise (Auraboa) - Like (39.1%)

Pinions (Gaoler) - Like (25.1%)

Plating (Undertide) - Neutral (38.9%)

Polypore (Aberration) - Love! (29.8%)

Porcupine (Auraboa) (Banescale) (Undertide) - Neutral (40.4%)

Pufferfish (Undertide) - Neutral (36.8%)

Remora (Undertide)  - Like (39.6%)

Riot (Aberration) (Gaoler) - Neutral (33.1%)

Rockbreaker (Auraboa) (Sandsurge) - Neutral (33.3%)

Sailfin (Undertide) (Auraboa) - Like (40.6%)

Scorpion (Gaoler)  - Positive-leaning Neutral (38.3%)

Scuttle (Auraboa) - Love! (39.6%)

Shardflank (Gaoler) - Like (40.1%)

Shark (Sandsurge) - Like (32.6%)

Skeletal (Aberration) (Banescale) - Like (35.5%)

Space (Aether) - Love! (24.8%)

Spectre (Sandsurge) - Like (40.6%)

Squiggle (Banescale) - Neutral (35%)

Starfall (Aether) (Sandsurge) - Like (38.1%)

Stinger (Aeth) (Aura) - Like (39.3%)

Tentacles (Undertide) - Positive-leaning Neutral (31.2%)

Terracotta (Auraboa) - Neutral (40.6%)

Thorns (Veilspun) (Auraboa) (Aberration) - Neutral (36.5%)

Thundercrack (Sandsurge) (Gaoler) - Like (41.7%)

Topcoat (Auraboa) - Like (36%) Trickmurk (Aether) (Veilspun) - Love! (42.7%)

Trimmings (Banescale) - Neutral (44.1%)

Weathered (Gaoler) - Like (50.8%)

Whiskers (Aether) - Positive-leaning Neutral (33.3%)

Willow (Auraboa) - Like (31.1%)

Wintercoat (Gaoler) - Neutral (43%)

Wraith (Banescale) - Love! (53.8%)

[sxyphen]

Gen 2 morphologies and outfits babyyyy

Zoey: outfit (Female Fae; cherry Clown, avocado Butterfly, and pink Firebreather)

Mike: outfit (Male Pearlcatcher; teal Bar, tarnish Fissure, and ice Capsule)

Svetlana: outfit (Female Pearlcatcher; stonewash Clown, tarnish Bee, and ice Lace)

Vito: outfit (Male Skydancer; ginger Falcon, phthalo Marbled, and metals Firebreather)

Manitoba: outfit (Male Pearlcatcher; denim Tiger, hickory Saturn, and bronze Okapi)

Mal: outfit (Male Ridgeback; abyss Boa, umber Current, and teal Underbelly)

Dakota: outfit (Female Skydancer; peach Poison, marigold Striation, and watermelon Opal)

B: outfit (Male Obelisk; slate Boulder, sand Malachite, and brown Capsule)

Brick: outfit (Male Wildclaw; murk Clown, ivory Malachite, and obsidian Thylacine)

Dawn: outfit (Female Nocturne; cream Giraffe, thicket Malachite, and sanddollar Firefly)

Jo: outfit (Female Wildclaw; charcoal Falcon, navy Fissure, and amber Runes)

Lightning: outfit (Male Guardian; sapphire Jupiter, ginger Noxtide, and lemon Veined)

Sam: outfit (Male Snapper; buttercup Python, amber Marbled, and turquoise Circuit)

Scott: outfit (Male Ridgeback; ivory Bar, white Current, and sunshine Crackle)

Staci: outfit (Female Bogsneak; pink Clown, plum Jester, and cherry Spines)

Cameron: outfit, dragon (Male Coatl; chocolate Tiger, carmine Patchwork, and maize Underbelly)

here are the ancient breed ones: Anne Maria (Female Auraboa; bronze Rattlesnake, umber Woven, and magenta Porcupine) Dakotazoid (Female Gaoler; saffron Wasp, radioactive Rosette, and fuchisa Carnivore)

[kandidandi]

A group of moths is an eclipse!

A group of apes is a shrewdness

A group of bears is a sloth/sleuth

A group of caterpillars is an army

Wild cats are a destruction

Cobras are a quiver eagles are a convocation

Elephants are a parade

Flies are a business

Foxes are a skulk/leash

Frogs are an army

Gnats are a cloud

Greyhounds are a leach

Hares are a down/husk

Hawks are a cast/kettle

Hippos are a bloat/thunder

Hyenas are a cackle

Jaguars are a shadow

Jellyfish are a smack

Lemurs are a conspiracy

Locust are a plague

Magpies are a tiding/tittering

Owls are a parliament

Parrots are a pandemonium

Rattlesnakes are a rhumba

Rhinos are a crash

Starlings are a murmuration

Woodpeckers are a descent

And finally, wombats are a wisdom

My fingers hurt

omg moth eclipse

omg sleuth jesters but bears

OHY MY GOD A CACKLE???????

[somelonelywordmonger]

Scry-A-Day #129

November 4, 2023 | Day 6 of Thundercrack Week

Meet Bridgette!

Olive Rattlesnake | Soil Jester | Chartreuse Thundercrack | Glowing Wind Eyes

[cl0wn-b0y]

Here’s a list of Alphabetically sorted ‘Call Signs’ for you if you: can’t figure out what yours would be, you need one for an OC, or for whatever other purpose! :)

!! Some of these came off the internet and are real call signs! Some are from Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick which is probably why some of them may seem familiar. Good luck aviators. !!

A: Angel, Alphabet, Agony, Arrow, Assassin, Aggy, Ace, Animal, Astro, Anxiety.

B: Black Cat, Bronco, Bruise, Brick, Basher, Bulldog, Breaker, Blaze, Boomerang, B.O.B, Blade, Bullet, Bull, Bullseye, Bucket, Biggie, Birdie, Boots, Bones, Badger, Buzz, Big-sky, Baby Bat, Bubbly, Butterscotch, BumbleBee, Bagman, Booty.

C: Cobra, Cypher, Casper, Charge, Cougar, Cyclone, Crow, Cyclops, Chipper, Coyote, Cargo, Charlie, Chaser, Cryo, Chuck, Creed, CooCoo, Cannonball, Circuit, Crash, Colt, Cruella, Creature, Chicken Little.

D: Dynamite, Dusty, Dash, Demo, Dice, Duck, Domino, Dover, Dozer, Diesel, Darling, Dasher, DoDo, Dipper, Digger, Deuce, Django, Dottie, Deception.

E: Elvis, Enigma, Egghead.

F: Flatline, Fireball, Fighter, Frost, Fancy, Feather, Flame, Frogman, Fifi, Firecracker, Fun-sized, Fruit Bat, Fungus.

G: Ghost, Goose, Giggles, Gucci, Ghostrider, Grizzly, Great White (shark), Gills, Gibbs, Gonzo, Ginger, Gator, Growler, Gretel, Graveyard, Ghoul, GG, G-Lord, Glassjaw.

H: Hangman, Hammer, Hijax, Hijinx, Hollywood, Hurricane, Howler, Heater, Hawk, Honey, High-Tech, Hard Shell, Hydra, Horns, Heebee-Jeebee, Heartbreak, Hellcat, Hansel.

I: Iceman, Ivy, Irishman.

J: Joker, Jinx, Jester, Jaws, Jacket, Judge, Jumper, Jaguar, Jigsaw, Judas.

K: Killer, Knight, Kanga, Krunch, Kindle.

L: Lucky, Legend, Little red, Lick, Lightbeam, Lambchop, Lover-boy, Lovebug, Lunch Money, Lucifer.

M: Maverick, Mouse, Mad Dog, Maniac, Machine, Mutt, Merlin, Mellow, Major, Mugsy, Mistletoe, Micro, Mamba, Mule, Mad, Memo, Magician, Monster, Moony, Midnight, Magic, Mastermind, Mare, Mustache, Moby, Mortician, Mortimer, Massacre, Mad Hatter.

N: Nova, Navigator, Nerd, Nugget, Nightlight, Nightcrawler.

O: Ox, Omen, Obi, Octave/Octavia, Oopsie Daisy.

P: Puddle, Porky, Poison, Payback, Phoenix, PopTop, Pyro, Pitch, Puggsy, Princess, Puke, Poltergeist, Phantom, Peacock, Puzzle, Peter Pan, Pandora.

Q: Quiver, Queenie, Q-tip.

R: Razor, Ripper, Rattlesnake, Rooster, Rebound, Rush, Red, Rags, Robin, Rusty, Rebel, Radiator, Rottweiler, Rapid, Rambo, Red Flag, Rockstar.

S: SHOCK, Skipper, Showoff, Sparrow, Slayer, Smiley, Songbird, Shadow, Scooby, Slider, Sundown, Stinger, Sludge, Shredder, Storm, Silence, Stretch, Serpent, Scout, Shark, Stag, Slick, Sassy, Scooter, Soprano, Spring, Strike, Scorpion, Showtopper, Stallion, Sweet ‘n Sour, Scarlet Witch, Surge, Spinach, Shanks, Shenanigan.

T: Tiger, Taz (Tasmanian Devil), Thunder, Twinkle-Toes, Tank, Tweety, T-Bone, Tumble Weed, Trouble, Tombstone, Tug, Toon, Twitch, Turbo, Tart, Teacup.

U: Uber, Unicorn, Ultimate, Unseen.

V: Viper, Vapor, Vampire, VooDoo, Vanilla, Vine, Venom.

W: Wiki, Wolfman, Wizard, Warlock, Wildcard, Wednesday, Wildfire, Wonderland, White Rabbit, Weasel, Weasley.

X: Xeno, X-man, Xanadu.

Y: Youngin.

Z: Zeus, Zebra, Zig-Zag, Zimm.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

joker | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: We all know the story. The jester and the shrink. A helpless, toxic thing. It can hardly be called a romance. But Min Yoongi has been manipulated for far too long and will not allow himself to be turned into the harlequin of of this joker.... right?

warnings: language, mentions of death (including death of family), female!Joker is insane and her behavior is not condoned, ok? ok; Yoongi's POV; a (very) loose role-reversal of the classic Joker story; 2k drabble

--

“Pain.”

Don’t let her manipulate you.

“Have you ever felt pain?”

He put a smile on his smile. “Everyone has felt pain. Emotional and physical.”

She smiled at him.

It made his skin crawl.

“No. Have you ever felt pain? Not willed it to go away. Not desperately clawing for a solution.” Her eyes stared into his. He had to purposefully force himself to hold the gaze. “Not erotic pain either,” she chided as if she was slapping a wandering wrist. “That is a means to an end. No, have you ever felt pain for pain?”

He furrowed his brows, frowning. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Behind the thick centimeters of plexiglass, the body was sitting down. Arms pinned against the torso, in a white straightjacket with threads poking out at the thick seams, the straps hanging limply at the sides. He knew she would have tried to rise if she didn’t have those shackles on her ankles and calves firmly pinning her legs to the metal chair.

She tiled her head at him.

A full forty-five degrees.

Grinning slowly.

In the past six months, twelve psychiatrists had given up on this case.

His was lucky number thirteen.

“When you feel pain,” she breathed. Hot and heavy. Exhale like a rattlesnake. “You learn that there’s nothing negative about it. To be honest, pain is a rather weak, simple feeling.” The sides of her mouth turned down, a mocking pout that sickened him. “It’s purely one-dimensional. A bodily reaction. It has no complexity of anger. It’s even more pathetic than fear.” She shook her head. “Isn’t that sad? Humans spend so much time running from pain, forgetting that what they’re really running from is what’s behind it. What it means.”

Yet another pointless, meaningless speech. He did not want to lose his temper. He couldn’t. He had to be objective and calm. That was his job.

“Ah. Is that what you wanted to tell me today?” he replied, shifting his hands on his clipboard.

The smile returned.

It made him sick because he was beginning to realize why she drove her psychiatrists insane.

He returned that smile with a faint one of his own. “When are you going to ask about me, I wonder?”

She tilted her head, corners of her lips still curved upward. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t that how you made all the others crazy? You got into their heads and mentally fucked them until they were either too scared to be in your presence anymore or too messed up to treat patients. So? When will you try to get into my head?”

Her smile morphed from aggressive mimicry to unveiled predator.

“When you become invested, of course.”

She stared and he stared back.

“I am invested. I am your psychiatrist.”

“As you stated, you’re not a comedian. Let’s not tell jokes, Min Yoongi.”

She purred his name liked a savored sweet, pink tongue licking her teeth. He could almost feel them scraping against his skin and he couldn’t shake the feeling.

“You’ve been sitting there, day after day, keeping a measured mental distance between you and I because you find me repulsive,” she hummed, swaying lightly in her chair. “It’s futile, you think. Whatever makes this chick tick, whatever has happened in her past, who gives a fuck? Just kill her. She’s clearly a threat to society.”

“I do not think that,” he responded calmly and evenly.

She chuckled and it was eerily ominous. “Oh, you don’t? You thought me enabling the downtrodden lowlifes of this shit city was a good thing? You thought me giving those poor fucks the tools and the plans to take out their anger on those that screwed them over was a magnificent gesture of rightful ethics?”

He clenched his jaw.

She continued, giving him that fake look of concern, pitching her voice and writhing in the chair. “Look at you, sitting there. A harlequin of the city, so, so worried about those poor shitheads nibbling on their handfuls of dog food and hoarding coins in coffee tins,” she seethed, wringing her stringy, over-processed hair. “I just gave everyone a fair shot in displaying their concerns, you know. You can’t have that unless everyone has the tools at their disposal to make things right. And we all deserve what’s right. Equal opportunity. Don’t we all deserve that?”

He gritted his teeth.

“Your followers blew up the city hospital and killed every single person inside.”

She stared at him with hollow eyes.

“But that’s the thing. They’re not my followers.”

One by one, her words sank deep into his ribcage, needling closer and closer to his heart.

“Civilians of a city are just like the subjects of a king,” she drawled. “A jester is just entertainment.”

“Killing people is not entertainment,” he spat.

She leaned back in the chair, the overheard lighting leaving harsh, inhuman shadows all over her angled, pale face framed in bright acid-green hair.

“The people were in pain,” she said softly. “They wanted the city to feel pain too. What better way to do it than to take away those committed to making the pain go away?”

He shot out of his chair, throwing the clipboard and knocking chair aside.

“You killed my parents.”

She tilted her head.

“You mean the ones that you’ve been leaving on life support for over two years now?”

His eyes widened and his skin crawled with goosebumps, realizing his anger had flooded to the surface, composure broken. No. Shattered.

No.

Blossomed.

Like a flower opening to the sun.

“The parents you always hated because they killed your dreams of composing music and forced you into the sciences, so you spited them by becoming a shrink instead, and then they got in that horrible, terrible car accident, leaving them in a vegetive state, and you, guilty, leaving them there for years because even if you hated their guts for taking your dreams away, you didn’t have the balls to pull the plug?”

His breath caught in his throat.

“Or?”

Her voice was gentle, coaxing his terrors to the surface.

“You left them there out of spite. If they killed your dreams, then you were going to let them dream forever and ever, until they wasted away, husks of their human selves, just like how they make you live this life until now.”

No.

He opened his mouth but he found he couldn’t speak.

Yes.

He stared into that pale face framed in green hair, those eyes like black holes, sucking him in.

I didn’t… It was an accident. I was being a good son. There was hope. That’s what the doctors said. They could wake up and live their normal lives again. Twenty percent chance. I shouldn’t give up on them, no matter how resentful I am. They gave birth to me. They wanted the best for me. No, they didn’t. Those selfish fucks wanted a trophy to put on a pedestal and tell everyone they had a prestigious son that made enough to fill their wallets, they didn’t give a single fuck to what I wanted, they never did, a child is a product, as parents we have to make sure you are used well, that’s what they always said, fine, if I’m a product then you’re the outdated model and about damn fucking time you become obsolete.

“So funny that the reason you’ll become famous is because of their death.”

He broke out of the spiral of his thoughts, panting. Eyes shifting up, staring into hers. Tilted his head, his neatly parted hair broken, leaving black strands floating over his right eye.

“What are you talking about?” he snarled.

She smiled.

It was strangely serene.

“Me. I’m going to give you the prestige your parents were always going on about.” She laughed, harrowing and raspy. “Not anymore, of course. They’re dead.”

I didn’t kill them.

He narrowed his eyes.

It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything but be a good son.

“No one is accusing you, Yoongi.”

“There’s nothing to accuse me of,” he spat back. “I didn’t do anything.”

She smiled at him, soft and serene.

“You’re a manipulative sociopath and your silver tongue won’t work on me,” he panted, his throat feeling rough and painful.

She shrugged.

“I know.”

Tension seeped into his veins. He sharpened his gaze, wary.

“I have no desire to manipulate you, which is why I haven’t tried yet.”

She sighed, falling back in her chair, her legs spread as wide as the shackles would allow.

“You’ve had enough manipulation in your life, I think. Let’s face it, your parents are dead. You could quit right now and go do whatever you want to do. In fact, you should. Why stand here and talk to me? I’m crazy,” she cackled, roguish and lively, shaking her head. “Dream your dreams. You’re wasting your time here.”

Min Yoongi could feel each breath sinking into his lungs, burning him with oxygen.

Those eyes watched him, the jester of this city.

He bent down and picked up the chair. Straightened it. Picked up his clipboard and sat down. Inhale. Exhale. Burning. Looked into her eyes. They looked back. They did not pity him. They did not gloat. They did not glitter in triumph.

They did not expect anything at all out of him and that was somehow a relief.

“How did you know about my parents?”

The side of her lips quirked upward.

“This is my city.”

He didn’t know why he bothered asking. She could probably squeeze information out of a crack in a concrete wall. Those were plentiful in this maximum-security prison.

He cocked his head. “Did you always own it?”

Her chin rose, lazily tipping her head back. “The jester owns nothing. I was appointed for entertainment, remember?”

He found himself observing her face. Every curve and corner, memorizing the shape. Could almost feel his fingers grazing across her jaw, caressing the near-white skin with his fingertips.

Is her skin cold or hot?

He raised an eyebrow. “Who appointed you?”

Her gaze darkened.

“Those that needed to be entertained.”

She leaned forward again, slowly, her head turning. Surveying him closely, looking him up and down. He waited, calmly holding the clipboard. The tip of her pink tongue darted out and licked her dry lips, making them glisten in the ugly overhead light.

“You haven’t taken a pen out to write on your clipboard, Yoongi.”

She kept calling him by his given name to mock him and his authority. He didn’t care. It was a childish action that was meant to rile him up. He knew how this worked.

“I remember what you say to me.”

“Are you holding it so I can’t see your hands shaking?”

He frowned. Then he raised one hand, relaxing his fingers in the air.

“My hand isn’t shaking.”

Her eyes slid.

“But it is.”

He turned his head.

His fingers twitched in the air, moving as if they were on piano keys.

One, two, three.

He lowered it, shifting his eyes back to her, saying nothing.

She smiled.

The hanging overhead light was harsh, casting hideous shadows. Her face was pallid, her dyed green hair poorly taken care of due to prison showers, and yet there was something undeniably enticing in that small smile, an expression that injected a dose of bravery into his veins, murmuring to his blood, you can do anything.

And maybe he could.

He just needed someone to believe and, those eyes that watched him now, well, they believed that he could do anything. Ah, yes. He could feel it.

“If you are a jester,” Yoongi found himself saying., slow and deep. A low, coaxing purr. “Entertain me.”

She grinned.

Insane and alive.

“Sure, puddin’.”

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[f1restart3rr]

"Madness is merry and merriment's might, when the jester comes calling with his knife in the night..."

1. Chase Holfelder - With Or Without You 2. The Antlers - Kettering 3. Paloma Faith - Upside Down 4. Moncrieff ft. JUDGE - Serial Killer 5.My Chemical Romance - Mama 6. Paramore - Fences 7. The Vincent Black Shadow - Surgery 8. Billie Eilish - Bury A Friend 9. Eliza Rickman - Pretty Little Head 10. Hozier - Take Me To Church 11. Hozier - Dinner & Diatribes 12. Blue Kid - The Dismemberment Song 13. Layto - Little Poor Me 14. Mother Mother - Arms Tonight 15. Em Harriss ft. Dials - Are Things Still Burning 16. Kabaret Sybarit - Rattlesnake 17. Stars - Do You Want To Die Together? 18. Scissor Sisters - I Can’t Decide 19. Weathers - I’m Not Okay 20. Weathers - Happy Pills 21. HOLYCHILD - You Make Me Sick 22. Nothing But Thieves - Number 13 23. Mikky Ekko - We Must Be Killers 24. Billie Eilish - Hostage 25. Rory Webley - Joker 26. Thirty Seconds To Mars - Up In The Air 27. Måneskin - I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE

listen here (spotify)

[kazeofthemagun]

You Welcomed Me Yourselves - Anarchy's Devil Parade

The luminous hand stilled, cyan eye searching for its master. And there they were, stainless in all their carnage, as though the rivers of blood streaming down the streets shied from the very fabric of their clothes. "That's too fast. You forgot what I am already? I told her to sing for me."

[Drabble about the Shadow Troupe of Gaudium, character introduction - Anarchy, Yarukiel, the Hatter, return of Herba and Oscha. A new plague arises. Post-series, prequel to The Creeping Shadows of Anarchy. 2.8k words]

[cw: blood, gore, mental and physical torture]

The night was young yet and the moon had only barely begun to show through darkened clouds. A lazy silver sheen illuminated the town, accompanied by the gold of streetlights and uncovered windows. Life carried on in the absence of Wonderland's evil ruler, and for the first time people could breathe.

Men, women and otherwise of various races and worlds breathed deep with a weight lifted from terrorized hearts, walking down alleyways and enjoying the scent of night. The district bustled with life and light, businesses carrying out their work and pushing the lifeblood of economy through narrow streets like veins.

All seemed to be well. In fact, all seemed to be too well.

Mechanical, like clockwork, did all these people move - and a pair of pale blue orbs that watched from the shadows could not say they approved of the monotony of such a life.

The being's lips stretched into a wide smirk, a smile that did not quite reach focused eyes. It was as though in that very moment, two seperate halves made up that pale face framed by pastel pink hair, one that warped in some twisted amusement and another that glared on from above through predatory orbs. What appeared to be red tendrils extended from their neck, half-hidden in an ornate white frill of their vestments; Ones with armored shoulders decorated with golden spikes. In their hands they held a creature, its body lifeless and woven out of silken fabric. Beady black buttons stared aimlessly off into the night as green and red fur bent under the caress of a gloved hand.

A head of vibrant color turned to look at the tall and crooked shadow looming behind. "Well, Oscha, what do you think? I say this is a prime night.. for our debut."

The shadow bent in an exaggerated bow, its mask - one that bore resemblance to a mask of tragedy - concealing whatever inhuman features lay beneath. Or lack thereof. Despite the shade's crooked appearance, horns made of fabric drooping like the branches of a willow tree, the male voice that seeped from the downturned grimace of its mouth was alike to a melodic chime, a sound too silken for the monster that it was. For it was anything but a man.

"Ah, yes, Your Frabjousness." The shadow jester dragged the strange-sounding title, earning a widening of the other's grin. The black crescent moons on Oscha's mask disclosed no emotion, even as crimson eyes gazed from beneath his cover. "I do indeed think this quaint little place could benefit from a little entertainment."

"That's what they wanted, so that's what they shall have!" A female voice chimed in, parasol resting on her shoulder and a hand on her hip. A woman not of flesh, but of plant fibre, a splendid and luminous flower blooming atop her head as hair.

A figure tall as two grown men loomed wordlessly behind, its shape one of a beast that stood slumped forward, long rattlesnake tail slithering slowly along the ground. No words or sounds - and that beast’s sounds hurt ears and minds alike - came out of its muzzle, or whatever its front could be called; A head that bore the likeness of a golden gramophone.

"Has your momma not taught you it is impolite to breathe down people's necks with a breath as bad as yours, Yarukiel?" Herba complained, tipping back with her parasol the gilded sheet of metal that lingered just above her head. "Ew."

The radio demon took one lazy step back.

In the very back of the group, there stood another man, one whose dishevelled blue hair obscured what little of his face could be seen from beneath his sizable top hat. A neon cyan eye gazed briefly before closing once again. He adjusted his gloves, dark green coattails swaying softly in the wind. "Let's just get this over with. I have a score to settle."

The figure at the front of the gathering spun theatrically on their heel, pointing finger aimed at their rather gruff companion. "All in due time, Hatter, my friend! Furthermore, you are aware you sound quite like one of those you so hate, are you not?"

The Hatter sputtered, ornate watch clicking closed in his hand.

"For now, why don't you join for tea? We wait until the ghastly hour. The devil's hour!"

A snap of gloved fingers, pale eyes and bubblegum hair illuminated by some red, wild magic. With a puff of white smoke and multicolor glitter a table and chairs appeared already set, intricate porcelain cups already filled with steaming liquid landing on snowy sheets and somehow spilling not a single drop. The magician gave another self-satisfied smirk, and claimed a chair at the top of the table, sitting with one leg over another.

The group all took their own seats - with Yarukiel lying down along the side - and had their late-night tea (with the notable exception of Oscha, of course.) Feather-stuffed monstrosities of sewn velvet and empty button eyes walked and refilled cups, while thorned walking plants guarded the perimeter. The faceless, 12-foot tall monster strewn at the base of the table somehow absorbed tea telekinetically through the tube of its gramophone. The floral jester made a disgusted face and ostentatiously pinched her nose, then changed seat. Yarukiel followed and Herba was forced to repeat the manouever a few times until pale blue eyes focused on her. All it took was a single, meaningful look and the woman sat down and politely remained. "Thank you, Herba." The magician sounded. Their head then turned towards their newest companion. "Hey, Hatter. What's the time? I do admit I’m growing impatient."

A cyan orb opened with the click of his watch. "It is nearly the ghastly hour, my Lord."

"Excellent!" And with a resounding clap, the table and chairs disappeared - sending Herba rump-first to the floor while both Oscha and the blue-headed man seemed to have been well prepared. "Ow." The woman exclaimed. Nobody paid her any heed, though. Nobody except the radio demon, who proceeded to loom. The jester grimaced.

The pink-haired magician gestured at the group to follow, and somehow, their two-tailed scarf did the same, golden claws bending like real fingers. Was it another kind of magic that set fabric into motion - or was the patterned garment a part of the being's own body - a mystery perhaps best left unsolved.

Slowly but steadily did the procession roll down the hill, lanterns lit with distinct reddish fire carried in the claws, hands, and tendrils of many vibrant monsters. Next to the moon's silver, and the town's gold; Their glow arose just as bright, out to challenge the order that had settled into the wounded land. A traveling circus, bearing many instruments and too-wide smiles.

A soft mist had descended into the valley, one breathed not by the Swordsman but rather nature's herald of morning. Before the moon stepped down from her pedestal and welcomed the sun, blanketing the city with a layer of snow-light vapor. Gradually, did the white shroud flicker; Crimson peering through its haze like distant, flaring eyes.

And then came the song. At first, a muted hum, the cry of woodland birds. Then, men's and women's voices and the guttural growling of beasts. The honking of trumpets, the melody of laughter that would come to haunt Wonderland like a boogeyman haunted terrified children.

"...Still heart-beats the garbled cry

Awakened hath the downturned eye!

Deliver rapture, vying fear

Come listen here! Our song draws near!"

It was a cacophonous song of cacophonous meanings, as if a hundred voices attempted to sing a hundred verses. Somehow, it all mangled and mixed together, a joyous nonsense tune that assaulted the ears in dying moonlight.

The perimeter of the town was less densely inhabited, and the sounds of night-life were not as loud. The first listeners turned their heads, peeked out of their homes, seeking the source of the song. A cranky old man yelled obscenities into the ether, splattering spittle against the window until his family gently ushered him away and back to bed.

"Belligerent the empty throne

Bled dry the wonder-licious mone!

With beat of wings and frabjous tings

From vivant shades the Parade sings!"

The red shone brighter, like fairy lights within a forest. From the fog, marching feet could be made out - faded, dark silhouettes, approaching steadily with lifted instruments and hoisted banners. A jester juggling jingly orbs; Making noise. They were noise personified. More gold lit up in the city, windows opening, people waking. Drawn from slumber by the nonsense song. The hollering heralds of a new age dawning.

"They are coming! Here they come!

Arisen is the throneless Lord!

Inverted eye and rhythmic drone

Twists and turns the joyous horde!"

A steady, resounding clapping - adhering strictly to the tune. A wide smile, wider yet, red light reflected within narrowed pupils. Face warped like the mask of comedy; With tragedy trailing right behind.

"Dead of night it spawns new light

The Troupe sings on with all their might!

Structured thought their dance does scorn

Of bloody smiles and golden thorns!"

Guards bearing spears and primitive rifles stood a wall between the parade and the town gate; The grinning magician stepped forward in a prance, tapping their feet and clicking heels. With a snap, blood-red tendrils wrapped around the sentries' feet - and glitter dust rained from above as the hovering Herba spun her parasol. Sharp eyes suddenly blanked, and weapons clattered against the ground. The crimson coils released as more dancing feet joined the parade, the men's voices a hearty bellow of joyous song.

"Still heart-beats the garbled cry!

Awakened hath the downturned eye!

Embrace your fear and tap your heel

Callooh! Callay! The Lord is here!"

And they arrived, joined along the way by hapless souls entranced by the dark magic that followed in their path. "Welcome, welcome!"

"..Of bloody smiles and golden thorns!"

The Shadow Troupe and all they enslaved roared with laughter, and whoever could not keep up collapsed along the way, suffocated by sickly joy. More pollen blanketed the area like the dust off a butterfly's wings - the culprit giggling madly as she glided through the air with her antigrav parasol.

Doors opened and people vacated their homes, lulled to insanity by the parade of nightmares. The town was up on their feet, and they danced and sang, more and more souls to reinforce the maddened crowd. The Shadow Troupe smiled in unison - even the demon Yarukiel let out a raspy laugh, the distorted voice from a smashed radio tower. "̵E̷n̶j̵o̷y̸ ̴y̷o̶u̵r̵ ̷g̸o̴o̸d̴ ̷t̵i̵m̴e̵s̸!̵ ̷E̸n̷j̵o̴y̶ ̸y̷o̶u̶r̴ ̷g̶o̸o̸d̸ ̷t̵i̶m̵e̷s̴!̸ ̵E̵n̷j̷o̴y̷!̵ ̵H̶a̷-̶h̷a̶!̷"̶

"Firaga!"

The beast's laughter was interrupted when a blast of flame zipped through the air, crashing into black hide and sending the creature hissing like an overtuned mic.

A gray-robed figure dashed into the fray, remnants of her spell crackling at her fingertips. Wild silver hair puffed out still from latent magic, and orange eyes glared defiantly with unbridled fury. A voice not of madness, and not one belonging to any of the Shadow Lords, either. "Who are you?! Why are you doing this?!"

Pale blues came to rest on fiery ambers as the Shadow Troupemaster drawled. "Sorry, but who are you? You should know better than to demand someone's name and not introduce yourself first."

More guards - somehow not mindwiped - rushed out into the main plaza, a shimmering blue gleam around their forms. Just like the mage's. The Troupemaster's eyes narrowed. "Magic Barrier, huh? Frankly, I feel quite insul -"

“Thundaga!”

A spell blitzed through the air - a massive thunderbolt plunged from the blue right into the pink-haired magician's form, electrifying nerves and sending a high-pitched yelp of surprise bursting through parted lips.

Instead of toppling over dead, however, the entity merely wobbled slightly and steadied - splaying the golden claws of their scarf as orange eyes widened in shock.

"Oh-o-ho-ho my! How rude." They chimed, happy-go-lucky voice suddenly dripping with venom. Though they looked comical with their clothes charred and hair standing on end, their right hand rose and fingers snapped. With a puff of smoke, everything about them was orderly once again.

Except that smile. That too-wide, too-white, chaotic smile. "No need to introduce ourselves, then. Sing for me."

The pavement below all but exploded - blood-red vines shooting out from the very earth and impaling unsuspecting defenders. They split and branched like capillaries, covering the entire town square in a wretched lattice.

Utter destruction. Death by a hundred spears - gored bodies flew through the air, the earth they had once walked on opening up to swallow them whole. Within, there was a maw of golden teeth. The parade laughed and continued onward with song on their lips, not caring whether the ground was no longer there to support them.

"̵S̸i̸n̸g̸!̷ ̴P̴l̷a̸y̸!̸ ̷L̶a̶u̶g̶h̸!̸ ̸N̸o̶t̷h̸i̸n̴g̷ ̵b̸e̸a̴t̶s̸ ̷t̵h̸e̸ ̵g̶o̶o̷d̷ ̷'̵o̸l̷ ̶d̴a̸y̶s̶!̶"̸ A corrupted recording erupted from behind the remaining guards' backs as Yarukiel leapt from the rooftops, slashing wildly with bone-white claws. Screaming erupted, magic flashed - lightning stake slamming into the evil spirit's hide. Herba descended to the ground, opening her parasol as hypnotic patterns began to form, the vents of her weapon spraying lung-corrupting pollen. Oscha’s wooden puppets-turned-alive swarmed the defenders, overwhelming them with sheer numbers. The massive radio beast recovered and coiled around itself, bringing its rattlesnake tail to a gramophone mouth. The plating shifted, the sound of a tuned microphone as a crushing wave of sound erupted from the golden tube, sending warriors flying with blood and brain matter bursting out their ears.

"Damnation..." The spellcaster cussed, evading a blow that came from a green-clad man. His white gloves now removed and palms glowing with spectral blue light, he thrust out his right to catch the defending mage. Fingers grazed against cloth; A massive spark of lightning and the barrier shattered.

No! Furious amber glanced frantically between the invaders, the maddened crowd and the failing defensive. Just.. who were these people? No - these monsters. They were monsters. As monstrous as Chaos itself. A Chaos Parade.

A Devil Parade.

Alas, she had little time to ponder. The warrior mage weaved through the air, dodging rapidly to create distance. Anything to cast the barrier again before that accursed song eroded her mind.

"Callooh! Callay! The Lord is here!"

Anything to get that sound out of her br -

A hand watch clicked open. Something glowed from beneath a shroud of blue hair.

"Slow."

On cue, a bubble of warped spacetime encased the mage, and suddenly, movement became difficult. Time's passage decelerated, leaving the defender stuck in limbo moving at one hundredth of her pace. Trapped.

"Haste."

The watch clicked closed as the Hatter walked forward in a leisurely stroll, encased in another bubble. He entered the mage's own bubble, the opposite force-fields cancelling out and allowing the man to walk at normal speed. A glowing, blue hand traveled towards his foe's chest. A hand of annihilation, like dark matter erasing matter. "Nothing personal." A deadpanned remark.

"Stop, Omega."

The luminous hand stilled, cyan eye searching for its master. And there they were, stainless in all their carnage, as though the rivers of blood streaming down the streets shied from the very fabric of their clothes. "That's too fast. You forgot what I am already? I told her to sing for me."

Glistening white teeth smiled incessantly. Moonlike blues rested on their prey. "She will sing of me so sweetly. Of me and my Devil Parade. Now, now, if we leave no survivors, nobody will spread the word, now, will they?"

A weak swallow from the trapped mage, amber flashing wildly. Red vines crept from beneath tiles, poking through the distortion bubble and reaching their target, unaffected by the field. Slowly, like snakes, did they wrap around slender joints and a gasping throat. Slithered into the ears.

"...I am the God of Joy and if it is freedom you so desperately sought, then freedom you shall receive. Freedom from your minds. My last incarnation was too good for you, you animals."

"You... you can't be..." A gargled whisper from a tightly-squeezed throat.

Red vines pushed deeper, and sing the mage did.

She sang. In a high pitched voice of pain she sang for Chaos and Chaos before her smiled a pearl-white smile.

"As for why I am doing this? Why, the people welcomed me. My people welcomed me when they slew he who ruled Wonderland. They welcomed me.. Anarchy. I am the God who takes the shape their followers yearn to witness."

The most deranged of ironies.

"..I, Chaos, am the reflection of all of your darkness. I am the sum of your sins. And I am inevitable." A snap of the fingers, and she saw it in the sky. Gazing down, a swirling galaxy. Feasting on the pain and confusion.

Growing.

In the end, however, the devil magician grew weary of her screams and released their hold. The Hatter undid his magic with a click, Yarukiel cackled madly in a voice of static, Herba blew a venomous kiss and Oscha emerged from a wall, pooling shadows still hungering for the warmth of souls. Anarchy's tendrils crept back underground, the red lines on their skin giving way only to near-deathly pale flesh. Another toy broken, but what loss was there in the loss of sanity, when the Chaos that ensued in their path was oh, so very sweet?

"...Wonderland and all that lies beyond will sing for me just the same."

With a wave of their hand, the Parade went silent and followed in tow. Red lights went out as the first rays of the sun slowly trickled down bloodstained walls, and just like ghosts, they disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a few still-crying bodies with no thoughts. Their cries were a droning tune.

A song of praise for all to hear.

[ahhhh-118]

Thank you to all who interacted with the recent pages of “The Rattlesnake and the Jester” your comments are so sweet 🥹❤️

In the meantime, while I work on the next page, here are some doodles I made a while back of Rocky and Maríanne

(Forgot to add this on the recent pages but Rocky Rickaby belongs to Tracy Butler of the Lackadaisy series)

[spoiler1001]

Prompt: Mollycat and Caleb. Do what you want with that.

"You are an absolute menace." Caleb laughed as Molly looked at him with big red eyes. 

"But I'm your menace." Molly purred. Caleb smiled. He couldn't argue with that. 

Caleb took a step back to look at Molly. He was wearing a suit made from hand woven lace. His hair was long and at the center of his back.

"I am truly happy to be here." Caleb placed a kiss on Molly's cheek. Two many bad things happened to get them here, but thankfully even more good things happened. So many miracles. 

"I know. I am happy to be here with you." Molly grinned. He understood where Caleb was coming from. It was better to celebrate the good things, like a wedding. The new shared room in the tower had a stained glass window and the ring on Molly's finger shined in the light of the window. "I'm with you until the end and then some." Molly nuzzled under Caleb's jaw. 

"And I will love you the entire time." Caleb smiled. Molly purred and smiled, the tail of his waving into the air. Molly took a breath and his tail dropped. 

"Caleb, there's been something I've been wanting to ask. I know Lucien is a sore spot, for all of us-" Molly asked into Caleb's neck. 

"Do you still have nightmares?" Caleb asked, cupping the back of Molly's head.

"I'll always have the nightmares, but there was a moment with Jester," Molly took a deep breath. 

"Mollymauk, do you want to go through the cat tunnels?" Caleb laughed.

"I know, it's our wedding night but-" Molly pouted and looked up at Caleb with big red eyes. 

"We can do whatever we want." Caleb smiled and two rings shone on Caleb's hand. One was his wedding ring, reforged, which along with Mollymauk's own ring, was reforged from Caleb's parents with some gold blessed by the Moonweaver. The other was Jester's wedding gift, made with the careful hands of the Pumats sol, a spell splitting ring. Molly grinned, all teeth but no malice.

Caleb returned the smile and picked up Molly. The both laughed. Molly kissed Caleb and closed his eyes as Caleb spun them. When Molly opened his eyes he had fur. 

The room was so much bigger now. He felt lighter. Of course there were important things to worry about right now, but Molly was happy. Overjoyed. Molly looked over to see Caleb and he stopped for a moment. 

Caleb turned himself into a forest cat of sorts. He was big  and fluffy and orange, but not like Frumpkin. Where Fumpkin was bright orange and white, Caleb had his orange as a more coppery. There was brown and black patches of fur and a bright red eye on his shoulder. 

Molly gently headbutted the eye mark and Caleb let out a chirping noise and Molly meowed back. 

Molly looked down, only to see that he was just as fluffy as Caleb, and purple with green markings, and covered in the red eyes. Except there was a golden ring around his left paw. Molly looked over and the matching ring was on Caleb's left paw. Molly's head tilted to the side and Caleb stood up and stretched. He gracefully jumped up to the ledge that led up to the cat trail, turning around to look at Molly. Molly yelled a quick meow and took off after Caleb, catching up easily. There were no cats in the tubes, which allowed for them to go wherever they liked. The tubes themselves were clean, hardly full of dust. It smelled clean. Caleb didn't leave Molly's side. Of course Molly thought. They only had an hour for this and Molly didn't know time that well. Caleb was purring the entire time, rubbing against Molly and making sure he was there right by him. 

They went around the center of the tower to many of the rooms. Molly stopped by the kitchen, where the cats were baking sweets. Molly was able to grab two before the cats saw and meowed at them loudly. Molly dropped the cookies for both of them into the cat area. One of the cooking cats stuck his head into the pathway, causing Caleb and Molly to take off running, stopping at the library. Molly was taken away by the view from the tube. Instead of the memorial glass that once stood there, there was a new picture. It showed a sunset and two figures dancing. One was human with red hair, the other was a purple tiefling. There was no facial expression but the body language was happy. Molly jumped down to get a closer look at it. Caleb let Molly walk up to it staying behind. Molly was mesmerized by it, focusing on the colors and the brightness. Instead of the mistake that the old mural focused on, this one showed a future all his own. 

And with that, the hour was up. Molly went back to tiefling form and sat on the floor. Caleb sat behind him, allowing Molly to lean back and against his wizard. Caleb brushed the hair out of his face.

"Caleb…"

Caleb hummed in response.

"I see why Frumpkin prefers to be a cat." Molly chuckled. "It's only you and the moment. Worries are nonexistent." 

"But how else would we kiss." Caleb hummed. 

"That is true." Molly mused. The conversation fell to comfortable silence. Well, as silent as it could be with molly purring. In the quiet of the room, Molly's purrs sounded like a rattlesnake about to strike. It would have been terrifying if Lucien was making the noise, but that ghost was gone. This was their Molly. The man from the circus. Caleb placed a kiss on Molly's head.

"Do you think the cats will let us back into the kitchen?" Molly asked. 

"It would be better to just go back into our room." Caleb laughed and stood up. "There can be many more adventures tomorrow." Caleb promised and placed a kiss on the back of Molly's hand.

[blushing-starker]

Listen. I know it's been done before. But @starkermoodboards and I were sighing dreamily at starker when I had a miniature epiphany. A lot of content revolves around Peter being mafia boss Tony's lover and not taking part in the illegal business, and I am here for it. It's an amazing concept that I appreciate wholeheartedly. I just decided to shift the dynamic and see how it played out.

The man who runs the sandwich shop can't pay up because his daughter had a rollerblading accident? No problem, Peter will leave her flowers, fill the hospital room with teddy bears and extend the due date. You missed the meeting because pay day came in from the day job and you blew it on beer and cocaine? The kid, usually seen smiling and laughing with nearly everyone, doesn't appear all that threatening. Barnes does. But then this beanpole from Queens decks you so hard two teeth go flying. Consider the due date changed. There are now twelve hours on the clock before Peter comes by to collect. Hiding makes it worse. Tony's enforcers, particularly Peter, Clint, Wade and Pietro, love when people run for cover. It helps keep them in shape and breaks the routine.

But then a new boss rolls into town, a so called Killian (Iron Man 3, I can't remember the name) that tries to steal Pepper and his customers. None leave Tony, of course. Those with small businesses, the little guys, appreciate how compassionate Iron Man is. Even the people that often see Peter's knuckles up close don't turn on him; the prices are  extremely fair and the Starks' always go through with the deals. So this peacock decides to challenge Tony for the throne. It's a political suicide, a new comer daring to impose upon such an honorable house. Not only that, Tony's been in Queens for decades and he's never once betrayed those that were loyal to him. The man had helped the city become a thriving community, often offering assistance to the people while the government's hands were tied. To challenge Tony was to challenge the principles of the entire system. Thing is, it was technically allowed.

The laws state that any person who believes they have fair reason to challenge another member may do so only if the ensuing fight is overseen by the council. There is no room for competitors to initiate wars based on faux insults. Tony couldn't take out Killian's safe house as retaliation for the challenge. Killian was unable to bomb the Stark headquarters to establish dominance. It was the mafia, not an anarchic society. There was order to these types of things.

Peter arrives early with the team, sweeping the area and making sure the ring hides no lethal secrets. He's been to plenty of these fights, but Tony hasn't been challenged in nearly two decades and the man almost never has to fight someone when there are bodyguards to be found everywhere. Nonetheless, the older enforcers can easily recall the last time Anthony Stark was in the ring and they assure the young man Killian will be out like a light after the boss steps in. They wait, silent and solemn, eyeing the competition for any threats or tricks. The men on the other side are from neighboring cities, names hazy but reputations sparkling. There will be no illusions today. Except from the jester with slicked back hair and a haughty attitude.

The insults rain down and they don't flinch. This behavior is inappropriate, for there is honor among thieves and devils. If one is to seriously fight, one keeps quiet and stays with their own. Most fights that occur between opposing families are mere squabbles, friendly rivalries that keep the atmosphere thrumming during boring weekends or holidays. Barnes has a hobby of coaching Steve in the ring after work and Natasha tends to employ her knife throwing skills against Clint's bow and arrow. They would fight members of the same family for fun, for fuck's sake. But no matter the cause or how drunk people were, insults were looked down upon.

It starts with their abilities as enforcers. Peter stares straight ahead at the wall, they all do. The Stark members were considered some of the fiercest fighters by the community, matched only by the legendary Black Panthers. The little boy criticising their skills does not know how in the wrong he is. But he's a quick learner. The tone shifts slowly, and shift it does. Ten minutes before Tony arrives, his rival begins claiming how incompetent and worthless he is. That makes every person grind their teeth simultaneously.

Whether or not you were a member of the Starks did not matter. It was clear Iron Man was an efficient leader ready to help the entire city evolve into something better. So when Killian leans towards Peter, boasting how he'd do a much better job of ruling, him, a nobody that can't even follow the protocols, the kid very nearly rips him a new one. But that is not allowed and a Stark enforcer does not break a law unless absolutely necessary. He would not bring dishonor upon his job, his fellow coworkers, his family; he would not tarnish the Stark name, let alone allow this weakling to get the better of him. Peter loves Tony and he'd let Bucky put a bullet in him if he ever harmed his boyfriend in any way. Not only had Tony saved his life, he'd shown Peter a better reality that let him thrive. He'd shown the young man how to love himself. Taught him he could be loved by another without anguish souring the relationship.

He was Tony Stark's right hand man, one of the best bodyguards in the mafia. Not just a powerful enforcer either. Peter was more than a Stark; he was the goddamn Spider and that meant something here. Before Stark dropped into his life like a fallen angel, Peter Parker ruled the ring. They considered Ben Parker's nephew a legend years ago, a warrior that could go head to head with the best without dying. Fighting against people like Black Widow and the Winter Soldier had earned him his reputation. Every knocked out tooth, jagged scar and black eye made it clear to all: he was a menace unwilling to break for anyone. Becoming Tony's lover and enforcer only resulted in more respect, but the community hadn't viewed Peter as strong for the first time when he exchanged kisses with the Iron Man. They realized the kid was strong the second he looked Bucky in the eye and grinned at the challenge.

(Peter guessed that's why they get along so great. Buck was a puppy. A lethal one that could rip your arm out, but still a puppy to him. The older of the two appreciated being seen as more than just a good fighter.)

Peter vows not to break. And then Killian is claiming he could breed Tony's bitch, show Peter how a real man fucks. The man gets so close he tastes the spit that comes flying two seconds later.

"Tony Stark is unworthy of his seat. And he sure as hell doesn't deserve such a pretty little thing like you."

It's sneered at him, Killian smirking at him wildly. The whole place changes, white tiles morphing into shades of red and Peter wants.

Barnes snarls at Tony's rival with eyes gone dark, Natasha lets out a hiss reminding him of rattlesnakes and the two russian speakers pounce at the same time. If Clint and Steve weren't so attuned to their family and strong as hell, Killian would be sliced ribbons decorating the floor. All in all, a fairly restrained reaction. Peter's proud of Nat and Bucky for not killing the man on the spot. Makes a mental note to get them new punching bags and cover Clint and Steve's shifts should they need the extra hours.

Killian doesn't move from his spot when the room becomes alive with furious shouts of indignation and Peter has to admit it's impressive. But this is a child, and children respond best to the monsters hiding in the closet, not the ones standing in the light. So Peter thinks about the audacity this creature has, insulting his lover, criticising decades of hard work and dedication, diminishing their relationship and in the process implying that his fellow enforcers were just pieces of meat to satisfy lust, inadequate at their jobs. For to attempt to dishonor or belittle one enforcer meant questioning everyone's competency. Not only that, this scum thought Peter was nothing but a whore. He hadn't fought enhanced assassins just so an arrogant dick would take one look at him and dismiss him as a threat.

Peter doesn't raise a hand or growl or yell or shoot him. He could, the council would see it as fair. After all, Killian had insulted all aspects of Peter's life. Doing any of that wouldn't lead to Killian being beaten, though. And Peter wants him to submit. So Peter smiles and the Spider comes out to play.

By the time Tony arrives, his baby has two buttons undone and a single strand of hair out of place from where he stands in the ring. He knows an enraged Peter when he sees it.

The crowd parts for him, bowing slightly and falling quiet. Only the bosses held in high esteem get such a treatment and it's been years since the community behaved in such a way towards him. The Stark heir was arrogant, but he'd always preferred that the people's respect be shown in a different way, one more subtle.

The bowing reminded him too much of his father's reign, the silence that would engulf him as a child and choke the air out of his lungs with the pressure of Howard Stark's legacy. No matter where they went, the roar of nothing followed. Besides, he was always trying to remind the community that they were all equals. Tony was only in his position because of the people that chose him, the people with the actual power.

So for them to actually bow as low as possible and simply cease conversing, knowing how much Tony abhors the sight, it tells him just how deeply Killian fucked up.

By the hate found in Barnes' face and Nat's curled fist, his rival must have hit a little too close to home. But the man was still alive, leaning against a marble column. Which meant Peter, his genius lover, had somehow initiated a course of action that would lead to satisfaction for all those here. The mafia was made up of untamed creatures. For a hundred people to agree not to rip an intruder's throat when the man had so obviously comitted a heinous act, Peter must have pulled out the big guns.

He settles next to Steve, but all his enforcers surround him anyway. In fact, every person in their side of the room shifts closer. It warms his heart. He'll let them break Killian when this is done, show his appreciation for their care and protection.

Well. If Peter actually leaves something to break.

A body slides out of the ring, ends up at his feet. It's a man the size of Thor, someone living two cities over. The tattoos on his right hand are what clue Tony in. Peter's played fair. The guy will need all his teeth replaced and that scar will definitely make a lovely crisscross pattern on his face. Bruce and Strange are already there, dragging him to a corner filled with more groaning bodies and hard working nurses disinfecting wounds. Each man will showcase those scars proudly. They went against the Spider and lived to tell the tale with proof right on their bodies.

He counts ten. Turns to find Peter staring at him, expressionless face morphing into the one he's most familiar again. A grin confirms his suspicion; his darling isn't even sporting a bloody lip. The grin he gives in return appears instinctively, pride overflowing and resulting in Tony Stark beaming at the Spider. It's both unsettling and a relief. The community was used to a happy Peter so the interaction helped remind them who the Spider was. That familiar sense of comfort vanished because Jesus, Tony Stark was beaming.

"Feeling merciful, sweetheart? Giving them a minute is twenty times longer than usual." His tone is light, not wanting to imply Peter has gotten slow or rusty. Sure, it's been a while since his boyfriend was in the ring, but you don't offend the Spider when he's already in a bad mood.

Steve and Bucky tense up, eyeing Peter in case they need to fight him out of the ring. If he gets even more pissed, Killian's men don't stand a chance. Tony could stomach murder. Peter couldn't. The enhanced soldiers prefer the possibility of bruised ribs to Peter with a heavy conscience.

His boyfriend doesn't twitch and Tony thanks whatever entity exists for giving Peter some self control.

"Figured it'd be best I don't get the suit too dirty. May is always complaining about getting the blood stains out. It hurts her hands so I'm trying to help out. If I take the jacket off, the shirt will stain faster."

God, Peter could really pull at his heartstrings without meaning to. He falls in love with him a little more.

The eleventh man tries to catch Peter and tackle him to the ground. The kid just slides to the right, drops down, sweeps the guy off his feet and knocks him out with two punches. It's the loveliest thing Tony's fucking seen and he's thankful Jarvis is taking pictures. He settles the sunglasses onto his lapel, happy to let the A.I immortalize this moment from that vantage point.

"I'm gonna guess what's going on and you'll stop me if I'm wrong, right?" Peter nods and Tony is ridiculously happy for the chance to do this in front of Killian.

He glances at Nat, sizes up Barnes, reads Peter's posture and Steve's facial cues and just knows.

His father used to hate when his only child pointed at things before analysing them. Found it too mundane, or some shit like that. Tony makes sure to point at Killian with both index fingers.

"You were disrespectful to my people. That's common with you. They shouldn't take anyone's insults, but they can and they did. The council probably thinks they were exemplary, hell, Fury probably thinks they were the textbook definition of good. But you kept pushing. Just poking at their buttons. Because it's Peter in the ring, you're little stunt turned personal. You insulted him, his family, me. If it had been one of the others members, Peter would have cut you a nice scar. But tradition is tradition. Even if he could have challenged you, which he could have, Peter would have stepped aside in that case. The recipient of the insult should have a role in the fight. You pissed him off before I got here. Thought he was weak. The last person to be that naive learned how ridiculous that assumption was when Peter beat their ass."

Peter had knocked Tony flat on his back when he'd made a comment about frail sheltered boys not knowing how to fight. He hadn't seen the kid fight before that; hadn't processed the fact that soft looking Peter Parker was the menacing Spider. That was two years ago. Not a single soul has thought Peter weak since then. Until now.

"The law states your men can take your place against your rival. Which is honorable if you're at a disadvantage. Broken bones, flu, life handing you shit right before the day of the fight. It isn't really put in practice, though, because the council knows how hard it is for everyone to synchronize their schedules for a second round if there are problems. They plan weeks ahead of time to ensure participants are in perfect condition. You seem to be just fine. Putting your men in danger by having them take your place against Peter just for the hell of it, just so you survive, sounds like what an idiot boss would do. If you had courage, you'd fight Peter. You'd fight me, but I doubt you're man enough."

The taunting does its work. Tony knows Peter can just knock him out before Killian even gets close. He could switch with his lover, but Peter needed to establish his reputation once again, make it impossible for any to doubt his abilities. By saying Killian is a coward, the Stark heir challenges his claim of being good enough for the throne. No mafia member would accept his reign if they knew Killian lacked bravery. Well. They already knew this, it just needed to be finalized so the council could have it all in record.

The man has just witnessed what happened when Peter wished for destruction and justice. He could get in the ring, be knocked out and none would laugh. The community would talk about it, but they never mocked the loser. Killian would be seen as an incompetent asshole that at least had courage. If he refused…

Every Stark enforcer/member grinned when the peacock snarled and entered the ring. Until a butterfly knife gleamed and slashed through wool, cotton and flesh.

It feels odd, being stabbed. You'd think the cold blade would send goosebumps everywhere, but Peter doesn't register the cold. Would he be cold if the blade was bigger? Or if Killian hadn't been holding the knife for an hour? He knows his reaction is ridiculous. Who the fuck was wondering about the temperature when they had a knife piercing their abdomen?

Although, it could be the shock. Yeah, he remembers Bruce's lessons on the effects of stabbing. Natasha had also reminded him of the shock, so at least that's a normal symptom. What isn't normal are his other ... responses to being stabbed.

"Are you gonna need this back?" is asked sweetly, nearly sickly so. The Spider has a thing for contrasting aesthetics . Being a little shit while a knife is rearranging his intestines does not sound common, but Peter takes pleasure in behaving oddly.

Killian gapes at him, mouth wide and eyes wider. He shakes his head, careful not to jostle Peter too much. Not like it matters much. There's a metal arm dragging him to safety, sliding over the ring's edge and onto a stretcher. Bucky is being as gentle as possible, he knows. It still feels horrible to move and have the knife shift in time with his breathing. Nat is there to rip open the suit, nails clearing the area around the intrusion and Doctor Strange appearing with antiseptic and everything Peter needs. He loves the Doctor.

And yes, definitely in shock. As he's being wheeled away to the med corner, there's a roar similar to that of a lion and Peter catches sight of Tony leaping at Killian. His clothes, jacket, vest, shirt and wife beater lay in a heap by Steve. Tony's expensive shoes are guarded by Sam. The shoemaker was a nice woman. She bought him a churro once. After that, his boyfriend would always buy his shoes at her store. Peter appreciated Tony helping out the little people. It was nice being what society thought was a bad guy while not actually being a bad guy. Like capitalist loving jerks like Brad. The room's spinning a bit and oh look, sparkly lights.

Afterwards, Jarvis shows him pictures of Killian, explains how the man landed in prison five days after the fight. The council had convened with their counterparts from five different cities. All had tales of Killian's horrible behavior. It wasn't hard to call in a few favors and dump him in jail. It was a bit hard to recognize him, though. Tony had gone berserk and no self respecting person was going into the ring to drag him off his rival.

Killian played dirty, so his boyfriend had first claim to fight while Peter was being treated. Steve and Bucky only hauled him away when five minutes had passed, not wanting their boss to have more blood on his hands.

Peter himself only remembers the dull sting of a needle meant to calm him, Nat's gentle cooing and Sam wiping away the sweat near a disheveled curl. Bruce and Strange had murmured assurances during all of it, careful to work on Peter away from Tony's eyes. If Iron Man thought he'd lose his lover, Killian would've been dead in two minutes.

He'd woken up a few hours later, Tony sitting by his side and sobbing. His boyfriend was sniffling as he wrapped Peter's hand in bandages. Apart from the new scar on his stomach, only his knuckles were slightly bruised. Even so, the mafia's most efficient leader was tenderly applying antibiotic cream to the tiny nicks, letting enough space between bandage and skin for the area to breathe. Tony had never once been violent with him, but Peter thinks this is the first time he's seen his boyfriend be so gentle.

The angle was odd and uncomfortable with him being unable to bend much at the waist. That didn't stop the legendary Spider from kissing Iron Man softly, barely there whispers filling the centimetres between them.

"I love you, Tony. And I'd do it all over again for you. I love you, I love you, I love you 3000.

Alright, here we go! My mind associated Killian's body with Yinsen's name and I've no idea why, but here's the correct version.

[hlvrc]

This is so chaotic, I love it! -Jester I really hope tommy is okay, poor guy -Corrupted

Tom- tommy is doing just fine! Dad’s finally taking me back to the circus - we should be home soon. F- faster than a rattlesnake’s tail!

[hes-in-a-wheelchair]

*Despite being now a rattlesnake, Jockington holds the little jester and protects him from Susie. There's no way she was going to hurt him.

...