The Slaughter's Promenade

♦ Shaco. This is obviously a Shaco blog. ♦ It's in the name, just.. Just read the name... ♦ Second blog of jest-a-puppeteer ♦ Semi-Inactive ♦️

[shaco-s-laughter]

Horrid Shaco headcanons no one asked for.

- Before we get to the grim stuff, I will firstly explain what type of Shaco this is.

Demon? No. Puppet? Well, nearly.

- Basing Shaco on the current lore Riot have given him (a living puppet made by a nameless magical Prince) I've built this clown into something that makes sense to the canon, but also something I find fun.

- Shaco's creator (jest-a-puppeteer.tumblr.com) essentially has the same powers as Shaco, only he has the potential to be a lot stronger. Shaco is not only a creation, but also a clone which took a lot of his master's magic to create.. As well as some of his intelligence and sanity.

- While he is in fact flesh and bone like any mortal, he is fueled entirely by magic, not needing to eat or sleep or even breathe in order to survive. It doesn't mean he can't do those things though.

- The magic that keeps him alive also works hard to rebuild him when he needs it. Shaco's physical health is more often than not in peak condition. He feels pain and pleasure etc, but his senses to these things are rather numb.

- Shaco files his teeth down himself so they're better capable of biting into flesh. He has to do it frequently because they'll return to normal in a week.

- It's a good thing he can regenerate. Most of his injuries he causes to himself to add to the terrible performance he'll do before murdering someone.

- He feels both pleasure and pain but both of which are slightly dulled and the nerves are confused so most of the time he feels a combination of both sensations.

- Shaco does not need to eat anything, as he's sustained entirely by his maker's magic. Sometimes he can get a boost by eating part of someone who has magic in their veins but he doesn't go out of his way for that. Once again any acts of 'cannibalism' all contribute to whatever horrible display he wants to put on to peak a victim's terror.

- Yes, he gets off on fear and murder in general.

Any questions?

[perfect-fourth]

Out of the shadows, wisps of dark smoke clung to gloved fingertips as the arms coiled around the virtuoso's waist, snatching him close as a masked face rests atop the taller man's shoulder. "Guess who." This whisper low, resonating against the back of the mask.

Any typical response from him of being touched so intimately out of seemingly nowhere would have instantly landed a blow to the face of whoever offended his personal space, but this was not at all typical. The second he felt those hands at his waist he knew who it was; by sensation alone, he still felt part of himself coursing through the puppet man's physical form. The voice that followed only confirmed it, and sent a noteworthy chill down his spine that left him momentarily trembling beneath the jesters grasp. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his thoughts and nerves. There was absolutely no attempt to retaliate from his touch. He missed it.

"Clown."

[shaco-s-laughter]

An exhaled breath of amusement hummed against the back of the mask at the immediate tensing; The tremble of the taller man's body against his own at the touch. It was such a wonderful sensation. As soon as the lone word was uttered, the clown released Jhin's body immediately. All essence of contact severed, except for the touch of two fingertips against the Virtuoso's chest. The fingers stepped, tip-tapped their way up his torso, leading finally to a gentle touch to his chin before vanishing entirely. Wisps and whorls of magical vapor vanished from the air as quickly as they'd arrived. The clown's absence brought a coldness to the room- Or was that that cause of his presence? "Did you miiiss me?" Out of sight, the tuneful words came from everywhere and no-where, crooned in his ever-playful manner. Toying. Teasing.

[shaco-s-laughter]

The clown waddles out of an apartment, wearing a luxurious dressing gown that went to his knees and holding a cup of tea in one hand. He wore slippers with little jester faces on them, his face, which jingle jangled every step.

"Really isn't anything very interesting happening out here, is there?"

[shaco-s-laughter]

Wipes some blood off his mask and kisses the freshly cleaned spot.

The red eyes behind the mask narrowed slightly, betraying a smile on the clown's expression as he took a hold of the taller performer's hand and pulled him in for a much longer kiss, dipping him at the waist. Mask still firmly in place. Regardless, there was an exaggerated smooching sound accompanying the action. There was a twinkle of harp sounds in the background -Who was playing the harp? Stop it.

[shaco-s-laughter]

He screams like a little girl and launches himself at the clown, sobbing in an overly dramatic display of joy and sorrow. Soy? He's mumbling something through the pathetic sounds emanating from his lungs in his native tongue, but even a native Ionian probably wouldn't understand.

Shaco simply stood there, allowing himself to be draped on by the taller, slimmer killer. The eternally grinning mask he wore remained unchanged as ever, but his red eyes seemed to call a silent plea. He did not blink, his face scanning the area before them should someone notice what was happening; Which he'd be sure to rectify immediately.

The clown let Jhin continue to cry it out for now, not a single blink the entire time. He was, however, very tempted to vanish from the Virtuoso's arms, if only to witness the spectacle of the artist falling onto his face on the ground. Very tempted- He was able to restrain himself. Huh

[shaco-s-laughter]

"Oh, bugger. I vanished again didn't I?" The Jester asked himself, a fist resting upon his hip as the opposite hand tapped a fingertip against the smile of his mask in ponder. "I really ought not to do that. How else am I meant to uphold my reputation?..

Nevertheless~" Shaco crooned and dismissed the matter before pushing a clone of himself off the rafters of a theatre and into the crowd below.

A grotesque crunch of bones from the clone sounded, before a cartoonish popping noise accompanied as his double exploded into a cascade of knives. Screams echoed in the hall as people rushed to escape, the clown sitting himself down on a beam whilst remaining under the shawl of his power that kept him out of sight.

Rats, the performers had left too!- Well, some of them are dead. Now he'll never know how the story ends.

[shaco-s-laughter]

I'm ready to PLAY. Who wants to DANCE?

[shaco-s-laughter]

Clad in red from head to toe, the jester's outfit was otherwise unchanged; Apart from the white fluffy lining and the bells- Well there'd always been bells on his clothes, but now there was more! Shaco was perched atop a building with a curly white beard and moustache affixed to his grinning mask and peered down at the street and festivities below. How lovely! How magical it was this time of year! Putting his palms together, he dove off the roof as though it was a diving board. Luckily for all of us, he survived, his body vanishing into shadow during the fall. Reappearing moments later with a large sack slung over his shoulder, the clown began distributing gifts to passersby and scattered some across the floor for people to help themselves to, how kind he was! Upping reaching the end of the street, Shaco twirled on one foot, stripped his mask of the facial hair and threw it into the air with a majestic flourish at the crowd as- Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. The crestfallen jester out a hand to his hip and started tapping a jingling foot against the ground. "Oh bugger, I really messed up the timing on that didn't I? This is why I don't do performances, you know? It takes far too mu-" All of the boxes exploded and sent shrapnel flying out into the crowd, several shards embedding themselves in the Jester's own chest, but honestly this whole situation was bad enough he didn't even care about that. People scattered, screaming and bleeding, alarms were ringing and there was crashing. Shaco laid beside a grievously injured man and lamented, throwing the back of his hand up to the forehead of his mask. "It's just not the same, Kevin. No one's scared of me any more. They barely remember me! Whatever will become of me?!" The man beside the clown wept as he was bleeding out, to which Shaco was kind enough to console him with minimal pats to his face. "Ssshhh Kevin, it'll be fine. I just need to figure out how to get people to remember me again." Happy Snowdown.

[shaco-s-laughter]

"I think this giant celestial goat snake man wants to do unspeakable things to my body Shaco what do I do?"

"For goodness sake Jhin, I just got home!" He wafted a hand almost dismissively before putting his suitcase down onto the floor.

Why did he have a suitcase? This wasn't his. The clown picked the case up and threw it out the window.

"Oh let him do whatever you want him to, dear. If you don't want him to do anything then feel free to let him know I'll be naked in the garden later. Good evening, by the way." Standing on one foot, the clown propped himself up on his tiptoes and pressed his mask against the Virtuoso's briefly, adding an exaggerated and audible smooching sound with the action.

[shaco-s-laughter]

anon love AWAY! *showers you and your muse with flowers (and if you’re allergic, you get a cute paper flower instead)*

The clown stands with his mask firmly in pace as multi-coloured flowers rain down upon him, the expression behind the eternal grin unreadable. He catches a bloom and tucks it into the top of his hat , before both hands go to either side of his face and rests against the cheeks of his mask. The background behind him is flooded in a pastel pink colour as dark red eyes glimmer. ~*🎀 𝒦𝒶𝓌𝒶𝒾𝒾 ❢ 🎀 *~

As sweet as the gesture is, this does not secure the Anon's safety, as they will promptly be murdered by the menacing, terrifying yet adorable jester.

[shaco-s-laughter]

He smokes a cigar, whilst reading a bloodied newspaper in someone else's house, sat in someone else's armchair. Hat and mask were still being worn, yes even as he's smoking somehow, though apart from that he just seemed to be wearing a frilled dressing robe which left the bottom half of his legs on display, and a pair of slippers.

[shaco-s-laughter]

Before I even slightly start making up a verse for this new skin, (because I will, I have no control over it) would anyone actually interact with him?

You don't count Jhin, you're biased.

[shaco-s-laughter]

Something something new skin something

*blows a party tooter*

[front-line-head-line]

Thought of the Day:  The Alien dream is to dance on the grave of Mankind.

[shaco-s-laughter]

He holds out the sad, shaven remnants of Draven's beloved mustache up like a trophy. "Alright. We can leave now. I've taken care of my unfinished business. Pack your belongings, to Piltover we go."

Taking the whiskers between two fingers, the clown ponders briefly before turning away from the virtuoso. He looks back around with the hair adhered to the upper lip of his mask. He is the Draven now.

"I don't have any belongings." Shaco spoke in a very serious tone. Facial hair was no laughing matter.

[shaco-s-laughter]

"I hate Noxus. Are you feeling well enough to travel in the middle of an undead apocalypse, or do you need more magic?"

"Implying my desire to consume magical creatures could ever be sated~ No, no we can leave. Dreary, unimpressive little place."

[the-hexenringe]

  𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘢, 𝘕𝘰𝘹𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘫𝘰𝘳𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸-𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦. 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘕𝘰𝘹𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.   𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯.    𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯.                𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯.

   ☽ ƈօʋɛռ ʟɨֆֆǟռɖʀǟ ★ ʟɨȶɛʀǟȶɛ ʟɛǟɢʊɛ օʄ ʟɛɢɛռɖֆ ʀօʟɛքʟǟʏ ɮʟօɢ ☾               ⋆ 18+ ǟɖʍɨռ ⋆10+ ʏɛǟʀֆ օʄ ʀօʟɛքʟǟʏ ɛӼքɛʀɨɛռƈɛ ⋆                                             [ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ] [ʟᴏʀᴇ] [ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ]                                   օȶɦɛʀ ɮʟօɢֆ: ⋆ 🃏 ⋆ 🥁 ⋆