#infectious hellspawn

[pico-digital-studios]

EXE May Part 3: Infectious Cases and other prompts

So, I decided to get these out much earlier than normal after ElectricSakura16 wound up in major controversy, but here are all of the remaining prompts for EXE May, the majority of which focus on Toxinfect, my own Sonic.exe entity!

Click "Keep reading" if you want to check them out! All sprites and assets belong to their original creators.

Day 16: Main Entity

You might remember him as "SoniKiller" from Sonic.EXE All-Stars 2/SonicAllStars2.exe, so you can consider this his new official self. To sum him up, he was created out of the universe's negativity (e.g., mere electrons), and as such, can feed on any and all negativity in our world and all others to grow stronger.

He once made an attempt at conquering one universe, though was driven out, so he's now starting from scratch and picking a much easier target; humanity as a whole. By engineering his own domain, using countless outlets and mediums to make it known, and bringing in his own creations whilst mimicking other entities, he has big plans to bring "peace and salvation" (actually mass extinction, eternal torment and the purging of almost all humankind) upon our world.

And when the end of time comes? He'll gladly restart the universe just so he can do it all over again!

Day 17: Faker

Toxinfect does one heck of a job masquerading as Sonic to lure future victims in, though often times, he doesn't really need said form. There are several oddities with it, like the gray in the ears, a red tint on both pupils, and white on the front of the shoes. Of course, it doesn't matter if you don't see him as Sonic. He'll drag you into his world regardless, and your fate is sealed the moment you make contact with any medium of his.

Day 18: Beast Form

Unfortunately, I can't really design a "true" form for him, due to him being pure negativity given life, and his true form would more than likely be too much for any mortal to bear witness to. The closest you get to seeing him manifest in real-life is either his File-0.X mimicry or his human form I'll touch on later, so I made a compromise with the second criteria for this prompt; bringing up Toxinfect's "Negative Failure" form!

Think Mario's Madness's Ultra M, but in the form of a hedgehog. This form is a major mish-mash of different components from other Sonic games, especially those that have gotten the most criticism from people over the years. This form is Toxinfect's second most powerful, and is almost impossible to destroy, but if he shifts into his even more powerful Perfected form, you might as well say your prayers, because victory against him at that point is all but impossible.

Day 19: Toxinfect's Victims

Specifically, these are some of the more notable victims that Toxinfect has claimed in the past, though not all are entirely helpless, nor are all outright innocent, either. From left-to-right:

Akzekuplen: Toxinfect's equivalent of Lord Mortis, a counterpart of Exetior (made by JaizKoys) who lost his winning streak to the Infect and now bides his time helping others, while reflecting on the blood on his hands.

Chinayu: The "Sonic" seen in Toxinfect's version of SONIC 0, who was thrown through countless deaths until they found a way out and escaped his clutches.

Tom Wilson: The titular protagonist of the original creepypasta. His real-world body was destroyed after he actively defied Toxinfect, so he now spends his existence helping others get back home.

Sadie Harolds: Toxinfect's counterpart of Sarah Henderson, who met her end via accidental murder and tormented her former friends until an alteration to a deal changed her orientation drastically.

Luke Arscott: Toxinfect's counterpart of Luther Artwright, still struggling with the idea of heroics after he refused to be complicit in Sadie's death, though still does his best anyway.

Raymond Parkinson: A victim who has cracked under repeated deaths and has lost all sanity, willingly massacring others in a hopeless bid to return home.

Layla: The alternate version of SonicPC's Alan, who overcame the trials and tribulations set out for her by Toxinfect and was one of the few lucky enough to return home in one piece.

Anaiya: Toxinfect's counterpart of Alice D'Imperatore, a former ally of the Cross of Purity (Toxinfect's version of the Cult of X) until Cadencia (the counterpart of Caffrin the Gamer Girl) came along and claimed her for chickening out. In spite of the terror she's endured, her determination and willingness to stop Toxinfect has kept her going time and time again.

Day 20: Laughing

This 20th one is for him laughing. Not much to say about it, really.

Day 21: The Victim's Level

This concept is within a level that's a mix of Egg Gauntlet Zone and Sandopolis Act 2, where the Tails victim for the run (Adam) is carefully treading through, all while Toxinfect lurks in the shadows to keep him on edge and mock him for his efforts to escape.

Day 22: You're Too Slow

Once Adam stepped into the final arena of the zone, it started filling up with oil. Desperate to survive, he started flying upwards, only for Toxinfect (mimicking a mix of JC X and 2011 X here) to show up on the ceiling and rip off his tails, sending him plummeting into the oil below. And if that wasn't enough, he opted to set the oil on fire to burn him alive! What a grisly way to go out, huh?

Day 23: D-Sides

I'd like to introduce you to Toxinfect's official D-Sides counterpart, known as "Toxinfected"!

Compared to the original Toxinfect, Toxinfected was once human, like you and me, in the form of Theo Igorian, though was murdered by three entitled students and found his soul tethered to his incomplete game project. Using it, he decided he'd be bringing justice against all toxicity, and those entitled students were right up at the top of the list. He only targets cruel/irredeemable people, though - kinder people see him as a pseudo-therapist if they've been through particularly rough patches.

Day 24: Mario Mix

You might notice that the sprite pick used for him here is different to that from his official sprite sheet. Well, I felt both that I went for fitted better for this scenario in question.

No matter what type of dimension Toxinfect appears in, he remains a massive terror to all; if Mario was the one who caught the Infect's eye rather than Sonic, this is essentially what you'd get! Then again, considering his domain is very vast, it's likely areas like this already exist.

Day 25: Any Other Mix

For this occasion, I decided to go for Undertale as my personal pick!Toxinfect's vessel is themed around the unused assets for Chara, making him appear more off compared to everyone else, and consistently stalking you controlling Frisk throughout the domain formed after the Underground. But that's not to say survivors don't exist here as well, even from the most unlikely of vessels like Monster Kid!

Day 26: Super Form

This one's themed around his "Gold" appearance via the PCX mimicry, albeit with normal skin and without the inhibitor rings present. This is the closest you'll get to seeing such a form, as it's nothing compared to his Negative Failure and Perfected forms.

Day 27: Werehog

The sprite used is that from the Java version of Sonic Unleashed, and I decided to see what I could do with only the colours presented. I'd say it came out quite well, even if such a form is currently non-canon to Toxinfect.

Day 28: Humanised

Toxinfect does something unique in that he's not solely bound to one particular human form when blending in amongst us - he can adopt any skin tone, any hair colour, and any match of clothing. His hairstyle could even be different to throw off those who think they've caught on. Extra images are present to show what some of these are like, including a look he adopts when around the Cross of Purity.

Day 29: FNF Concept

This one focuses around an FNF concept for Toxinfect, known as "Sonic's True Enlightenment", of which he took inspiration from Mario's Madness and its ending where Boyfriend and Girlfriend bit the dust.

The mod itself is mostly a normal one in the vein of MM, but the "Soulless" difficulty must be avoided at all costs if you do not wish to be imprisoned with him and forced to sing your lungs out for an eternity. Only two have managed to slip past the cracks, while many others still remain stuck in the endless cycles that bind them to a lack of sunshine. Perhaps all of us are too slow to escape the terror of chaos...

Day 30: Personal Favourite Sonicpastas

This one is for my personal favourite Sonic the Hedgehog creepypastas/horrorbrews. From left-to-right, these are:

Shadow.exe by SoulCaptor: A seemingly normal EXE game which hides dark secrets, and the path of a serial killer obsessed with slaughtering the only survivor of a separated family.

The Sonic Bootleg Tape of 1995 by RodrigoJogos: A direct-to-video remake of AoSTH Episode 66, depicting a bootleg episode by Cartoons R Fun that has much more graphic material than any AoSTH episode would ever contain.

Tails Doll: Ever unsettling to look at, and some feared that Sonic R was its gateway through to us. No surprise that many a creepypasta spawned for the voodoo doll.

Friendship: A Sonic 2 Creepypasta by NotSoDevy: An alternate ending to Sonic 2 GG/SMS where Sonic runs through West Side Island without Tails, and ultimately pays the price for discovering what became of his best friend...

A Frozen Trap: One player messed around too much with Sonic Advance and caused a slow but painful and cold death for the Amy Rose within, and when faced with something like this, she proved powerless to do anything about it.

El Pendrive Azul/Blue Pendrive by Sinuois: A Spanish creepypasta predating Sonic.exe, with a malicious program on a blue pendrive capable of being harmful to anyone who suffers from epilepsy.

Sonic 3 Hacked Cartridge: Two friends discover a hacked pair of Sonic 3 and Sonic & Knuckles cartridges, depicting strange things, including the presence of a Sally Acorn. The writer discovering it later got the attention of the cartridges' original owner, who always watches... in the walls... under the floors...

Day 31: GAME OVER

And that brings us to this point! All games must come to an end at some point, and this one is no exception. For now, though, it's GAME OVER.

Bonus: Alien Message

(CONTINUATION OF THE SONIC.EXE/SALLY.EXE TAKE MADE FOR THIS EVENT)

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

[Hello , friend! Just dropping by to say - i love how you talk about HellSpawn every time! The way I see it - if you're going to dedicate yourself to something - you have to do it with much love and passion, or not at all! And you're doing it perfectly. Keep on spreading your infectious positive attitude with the world, and your love for the characters on your blog always! ♡ ]

Unprompted Ask Love || Always Accepting

// Aaaah, thank you Pandora! I'm so glad it's coming across so positively. I adore them both so much. Haven't found a ship this in depth and fun to explore in a while so I probably come across as obsessive sometimes, I confess XD. But I'm glad you got joy out of reading my explanation!

// You carry on with your positivity too, you beautiful person! <3

[critcast]

* muse list.

click the names for extensive bios.

Seraphina Vesper ( neutral evil, occultist, dark sorceress ).

Seraphina Vesper is a 29-year-old human dark sorceress and occultist with a tragic past. Born into a family obsessed with dark magic, she was subjected to brutal rituals that awakened a dormant demonic bloodline within her. This led to the manifestation of Malphas, an ancient and malevolent demon, who now resides within her, constantly vying for control over her mind and soul.

Seraphina is a complex character, deeply intelligent, resourceful, and coldly calculating, yet tormented by the constant struggle to maintain her humanity against Malphas's corrupting influence. Her appearance reflects this inner battle—normally ethereal and pale, but when the demon's influence grows, her skin darkens to a sickly grayish-blue, and her demeanor becomes more menacing.

Her powers are rooted in dark magic, specializing in psychological manipulation, nightmare induction, and shadowmancy, allowing her to break the minds of her enemies as much as their bodies. However, this power comes at the cost of her own sanity and soul, as Malphas seeks to dominate her entirely.

verses

Lexori “Lex” Zynari ( chaotic good, traveling bard, occasional adventurer )

Lexori Zynari is a 25-year-old pink-skinned tiefling bard, known for her sharp wit, infectious humor, and deep empathy. Despite her playful and fun-loving nature, Lexori carries the weight of a tragic past. As a child, she survived the massacre of her village, Cindervale, at the hands of a fanatical group known as the Order of the Purifying Flame. The zealots, led by Inquisitor Hargrave, attacked her village believing that tieflings were hellspawn that needed to be eradicated. Lexori's parents died defending her, leaving her as the sole survivor.

Taken in by a traveling troupe of performers, Lexori found solace and purpose in music and storytelling. She uses her bardic talents to bring light and laughter to others, masking her pain with her vibrant personality. Driven by a desire to prevent others from suffering as she did, Lexori travels the world, helping those in need and standing up against cruelty and injustice. Despite the scars of her past, she remains resilient, compassionate, and determined to create a better world.

verses

Fox Windwhisper ( neutral good, druid, wanderer )

Fox Windwhisper is a non-binary wood elf druid with a deep connection to nature and a sorrowful past. Born in a small, secluded village that was destroyed by human settlers, they were one of the few survivors, saved by the sacrifice of their elders. This traumatic event set them on a path as a wanderer and protector of the wild, driven by a desire to heal both the natural world and their own wounded soul. Fox's appearance is strikingly androgynous, with long blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a dusting of freckles.

Accompanied by their loyal companion, Whisper—a mystical Feywild Spiritfox—Fox travels the world, using their druidic powers to protect the balance of nature. Whisper, with her silver fur and fey magic, is not just a companion but a spiritual guide, sharing an unbreakable bond with Fox that transcends the ordinary. Together, they face the challenges of a world that can be both beautiful and harsh, embodying the harmonious yet unpredictable nature of the wild. Fox's gentle, empathetic demeanor hides a fierce determination to protect what they love.

verses

Draxen Maelthar ( chaotic evil, cambion, soul harvester )

Draxen "Drax" Maelthar is a complex and sinister figure, a Cambion born from the dark union of a human mother and an incubus father. His existence is a constant struggle between the remnants of his humanity and the overwhelming pull of his infernal heritage. Drax’s mother, a kind-hearted woman, tried to raise him with love, but his inherent darkness and the whispers of his father led him down a path of darkness. After accidentally causing the death of his mother and the destruction of his village with his emerging powers, Drax embraced his darker nature, turning away from any vestige of humanity and fully accepting the demonic blood that flows through his veins.

Drax’s true power lies in his ability to switch between his human and devil forms, though maintaining his human appearance requires him to feed on the souls of mortals. This need for souls drives much of Drax’s actions, forcing him to manipulate, deceive, and occasionally murder to sustain himself. While he is a cunning and charismatic figure, capable of charming others with ease, he is also deeply embittered and harbors a burning desire for power and revenge. Drax walks a fine line between control and chaos, always teetering on the edge of complete corruption as he grapples with his infernal legacy and the darkness that threatens to consume him.

verses

CANON MUSES

( had an URGE to write one of my fave canon characters from an old comfort fandom. she has a bg3 verse that ties her into the main plot well enough, so you don’t need to know the show true blood to write with her! )

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort ( vampire, bar owner, bitch )

Pam is a central character in the television show True Blood. She is a fiercely loyal and sharp-witted vampire, known for her dry humor, sarcasm, and unapologetically blunt demeanor. Pam was turned by Eric Northman, her maker and long-time companion, with whom she shares a deep bond. Originally a madam in early 20th-century San Francisco, Pam embraced her vampire nature fully, becoming Eric’s right-hand and co-owner of the vampire bar, Fangtasia.

Pam is highly pragmatic and often displays a disdain for human emotions and morality, though she does show care for those close to her, particularly Eric. Throughout the series, her character is defined by her loyalty, strength, and independence, as well as her struggle to maintain her connection with Eric in the face of various threats. Pam’s journey in the series highlights her resilience, as well as her complex relationships with both humans and vampires alike.

verses

[carelessflower]

Before the waitress walked away, Alec made sure to add.

"Oh- And no onions for my friend here. Thanks."

Magnus huffed, "Alexander, why are you exposing my weakness in front of everyone? I thought I could trust you."

"Hating onion isn't a damn weakness," Alec rolled his eyes. "And I don't want you to spend the whole lunch picking your bowl while complaining like last time."

"I did no such thing."

"Last Tuesday's lunch," Alec said, deadpanned.

"But I did finish it didn't I? Those hellspawn vegetables had nothing on me."

"Only because I picked and ate all the onions from your burger. And the soup. And the salad. Honestly why do I even bother at this point?" 

Magnus burst into laughter, a pleasant sound that drowned out all the background noise in Alec's ears. He smiled back, helplessly. Magnus had the kind of joy that was infectious everywhere he went, infinite constellations that pulled people in. Alec never stood a chance against him.

Leon snickered, then attempted to redeem that by covering his mouth. Alec was suddenly reminded of their surroundings.

He glanced at Sylvia, noticing the slight curl on her lips, a telling point that betrayed an otherwise perfectly crafted happy face. Good. The tiniest crack was the start of the crumbling dam.

problematic!alec-snippet from the double date from hell. break up with your girlfriend im bored is probably playing in the background @magnus-the-maqnificent @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @raziyekroos @wtf-is-reality @thelightofthebane @justaburningpile 

[liarian]

Hope

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9

Tanako picked up the brochure, horrified by the garish colors, the Comic Sans typography and the oversaturation of the layout. After years as a graphic designer, she had never seen anything as horrible as that hellspawn that seemed to be advertising some kind of parapsychology service. Tanako had seen all kinds of charlatans since the day Katsuya had turned out to be not quite normal. None screamed scam as much as "Spirits and such."

Her first reaction was to throw the paper in the trash and forget that the infectious thing had ever crossed her life. With a resigned sigh, she reread the information on the brochure. The address was not too far from there and Tanako had already tried every place that could be considered respectable. It didn't hurt to try if any of what it said there was true. Katsuya needed help and Tanako was desperate to get it for him any way she could.

Tanako didn't know what to expect from a place that advertised with that kind of publicity but what she found was a completely nondescript office building like the thousand identical ones that could be found in the city. She could hardly believe that she had passed by it dozens of times without noticing the sign on the facade.

Tanako took out the pamphlet and checked the apartment and the door before ringing the intercom. The door was open when she reached the second floor. The inside of the office didn't look much different from the dozen or so offices she'd had to wait to be told if they could help her son. The furniture looked cheap but was well-kept, light-colored. Two black chairs made the waiting room in front of the reception desk. Tanako stood.

"One moment, please." For a moment she had thought no one was there when the words caught her attention.

The voice belonged to a boy sitting in front of the desk in the back. He seemed to be concentrating on typing something on his computer. At some point, there had to have been more people but Tanako didn't see anyone else.

"This is a horrible brochure" Tanako said as she saw the piece of paper still in her hands. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to."

"I think so too." The boy stood up walking over to her. "My assistant thinks it draws more attention this way."

The boy was the opposite of what Tanako might have expected looking at the design of the pamphlet. He couldn't have been more than twenty-six or twenty-seven, with completely straight black hair covering his forehead and an almost expressionless grimace.

"Tea?" he asked leading her to the sofas by his desk and putting the water in the electric kettle on the table to boil. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name."

"Tanako Serizawa" she said accepting the offer and sitting down on one of the sofas.

"Shigeo Kageyama, nice to meet you." The boy drew a small grimace that was intended to be a smile. "How can I help you, Mrs. Serizawa?"

Tanako fiddled nervously with her hands not quite knowing what to say. No matter how many times she had explained Katsuya's problem, it was never simple. She left herself a moment to think, picking up the cup and letting the warmth help her calm her nerves.

"It's because of my son," she said at last after taking a sip. "He needs help and maybe you can do something."

----------------------------------------------------------

Tanako walked up to the door of Katsuya's room and listened as she tried to guess her son's movements on the other side. She was barely able to make out the sound of footsteps and the creaking of the chair. It had been days since Tanako had barely seen bits of the hunched figure residing in there. At times, she had the impression of living with a ghost.

Tanako had been unable to stand still for a moment all morning. She didn't know how many times she had rearranged the shelves of the dining room cabinet. Kageyama had told her he would stop by around four o'clock and it was already five minutes past.

Nerves were going to get the better of her. Tanako still remembered the last time a professional had come to see Katsuya and it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat.

At least Kageyama had been honest about what to expect. Katsuya wasn't cursed and there was no magic concoction that was going to spontaneously cure him. The only one who could get him out of his room was Katsuya himself.

Tanako was startled when she heard the doorbell.

Kageyama looked too normal. Nothing would have made her think that that boy could really be anything extraordinary. Maybe that boy was nothing more than a scam but something about the way Kageyama had spoken to her the day before made her hopeful.

For the first time in a long time, Tanako had had the impression that someone understood her.

"Is he in the room down the hall?" Kageyama asked as soon as he entered.

Takako nodded her head.

"Today is a bad day." She led him to the room where Katsuya had been confined for over three months now. "I'm not sure he's going to want to talk."

"I can at least try." Kageyama shrugged. "And I can always come back another day."

"Just be careful."

Tanako was never going to be able to forget that her son was dangerous. She watched the boy one last time before knocking on the door. She just hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 20: The Guests of Honor

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Locals, tourists, and travelers around the world over take to the streets of New Orleans for the biggest celebration of the year. The Council comes together at the Beau-Keyes House for their annual Mardi Gras party.

[READ IT ON AO3]

March 5th. Mardi Gras.

Behind him Nik announces himself with a loud and pointed cough. Taylor doesn’t acknowledge it but he enters anyway, keeps his distance.

Kristin’s vitals beep softly on the monitors beside the bed. Both fill the space between them and somehow make it that much wider.

“Don’t go sayin’ goodbyes.” Advice from a man who sounds like he’s said far too many — or maybe too few.

But he appreciates the gesture anyway. “I’m not. Actually I was just promising to make it up to her; missing Mardi Gras I mean.”

“I swear some people treat this party like a whole damn religion.”

Taylor throws a little grin back Nik’s way.

“We’ve been planning this for years. When she wakes up she’s gonna be so mad she missed it.”

When there’s no answer he fully turns and catches the look on Nik’s face; the sharp cuts of him softer, the crinkles in his eyes smoothed away.

There are people wait their whole lives for someone to look at them like that. Walls down and gates open and any other locked barrier metaphor he can think of. Honest and unguarded and…

And the sheer fact that it doesn’t vanish the moment Nik realizes he’s been caught means a lot of things that neither of them can talk about right now because it’ll feel too much like the goodbyes they just agreed not to say.

“What?” he asks; doesn’t miss the tiniest spark in the man’s eyes at how breathless he sounds. “What?”

“You realize you said ‘when?’”

Yeah, he did.

“Sorry, I —” shaking his head, Taylor stands, “— are they all finished up downstairs?”

“They’re finishin’ the papers now, but yeah they wanted me to get ya.”

“Probably shouldn’t keep them waiting then.”

“Yeah, prob’ly.”

He said he wasn’t going to say goodbye so he doesn’t — not out loud. Hopefully that thing about coma patients hearing the world around them applies for sensations, too, because squeezing her hand before they take off is the next best thing.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that Vera and Tonya are already in an argument when they arrive.

Even without the powers her Curse granted her, Lady Smoke smooths out a fresh pair of gloves along her upper arm. Must be wearing a spare of Vera’s since they probably didn’t plan on matching.

“I will not be looked down upon, Vera.”

“You’re takin’ it too seriously. Dr. Ramsey barely let you sign yourself out and that’s sayin’ something. Just stay in the damn chair Momma!”

Maybe at her full strength Tonya could have fought off the one-handed grip her daughter uses to keep her seated in the hospital wheelchair, but she certainly can’t looking like she’s a hop and a skip from unconsciousness.

But she’s a fighter. She tries.

Vera throws them a pleading look on approach. Probably why Ryder doesn’t shy away from hard heavy pats to the shoulder of the most powerful mobster in the city.

Former most powerful? He doesn’t know anymore — is sure that same uncertainty is the reason Momma Reimonenq is so adamant to leave on her own two feet.

But Ryder wants to savor it for just a little longer. “We all signed and ready to get movin’? Heard from Kathy on the way down — they’re almost there.”

Vera nods. Literally goes over Tonya’s head with the conclusion that ignoring her is better for everyone.

“The car is pullin’ around,” and with a twinge of worry in her brow, “anybody heard from Cal?”

No answer is an answer. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We should’a went with him, swung by the hospital after.”

If Tonya takes offense to sounding less important than the werewolf she doesn’t say it. She does fall quiet, though.

“He’s a big wolf, he’ll be fine.”

Getting a firm grasp on the handles of the chair Ryder swings Tonya around — with no lack of glee at her shouted protest — and starts pushing her out to the hospital curb.

But Taylor shares the same concern. Doesn’t write Vera off as she tucks herself against his side while they follow behind.

“He’s not wrong, but Cal isn’t alone, remember?”

She snorts. “Nothin’ against him personally but I don’t think sendin’ Cadence counts. I dunno if you noticed, Tay, but the wolves and vampires don’t exactly get along.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Don’t you gimme that lip. What if we just made it worse on him?”

And he feels for her, he does. Knows her concern is coming from a place of care and, if Taylor’s reading the vibes she’s putting out right, empathy for an ‘odd one out’ like herself.

So he reminds her, “You came here for your mom and lived to tell the tale. Don’t sell Cal so short.”

“Yeah… I guess.”

“We need Kristof for this to work.”

“An’ I know that! Just wonderin’ if it wouldn’t’ve been easier to tackle demons who weren’t our own.”

“Hey,” he wipes away a nonexistent tear in mock-offense, “speak for yourself. I gave mine the cliffnotes of Shakespeare.”

They’re both pretty sure the hospital wheelchairs aren’t things to be rented out, but neither of them have the guts to argue with Nik as he gives a shout of frustrated victory at maneuvering the folded frame into the trunk of their ride.

He slams the lid closed with more force than necessary; muttering to himself as they pile into the sleek black SUV.

“Here’s the address.” Ryder grunts, offers the driver a scrap of paper once part of Cade’s notes. The man doesn’t take it without shooting Lady Smoke query for approval first.

Her focus is ardent on something—maybe nothing, maybe anything but the indignity she feels—out the window but with the barest nod the engine rumbles to life, begins the agonizing process of navigating through the police-issued barricades for the forthcoming parade.

If this works, holy shit.

If it doesn’t…

He takes Nik’s hand in his and squeezes tight.

You’d think after living there for a few centuries the supernatural community — the immortal lives of the fair folk specifically — would have had some kind of effect on the culture of New Orleans.

On the contrary; the vibrant blend of ancestry that made the Big Easy so prominent had come out stronger, taken what was apparently a rather somber tradition-bred people and made them savor the beauty of a life that was not guaranteed to be forever.

Which helps give a little bit of contextual understanding to just how amazing the Beauregard-Keyes House looks?

In the entryway he catches glimpse of more than a few fae, the same citizens of Lamrian he saw carrying candle-lanterns and humming a solemn hymn of mourning mere days ago, flitting this way and that for final touches.

Lights without flame or fuel dance in soft orbs across the ceilings; colliding into one another with bright flashes of the traditional Mardi Gras purple, gold, and green. Beads hang on decorated furniture and lay spread out on tables for the taking.

There’s an entire wall of face masks ahead; ranging from just the eyes to full-on faces painted by delicate and skilled hands. No two masks are exactly the same, so bursting with personality they’re practically alive.

They pass a doorway where a young fae waves their hands exuberantly only for bright violet ivy to grow and flourish around the molding; still sparkling of morning dew that shouldn’t be there for hours let alone indoors.

If they weren’t setting an elaborate trap for a skeletal hellspawn by literally handing it everyone it wants to kill on a decorative golden platter it would be the kind of party to bring up every time someone mentions a good time.

Taylor catches a familiar laugh off to the right of the front parlor and, after a tug to Ryder’s arm and a jerk of the head, leaves him and Vera to finish explaining the machinations of said elaborate plan to Lady Smoke. Delves further and through a doorway that dusts golden glitter like falling snow. Before he can brush it off his shoulders it fades into nothing, because apparently even elves know glitter is an infectious disease.

Garrus is accustomed to working his magic at a larger bar top and it shows — doesn’t mean the magical mixologist isn’t working some serious moves on the antique bar hosting a freshly-stocked wall of selections behind him.

Ivy continues to laugh unabashedly at Krom and now Taylor can see why. His stony face lips and eyes squeezed shut and puckered up in some form of resistance.

And if that wasn’t a silly enough sight on its own the flurry of tiny fizzing dragonflies that erupt from his tusked maw when he burps definitely is.

They lift up into the air as little bubbles, popping and crackling like the top of a freshly poured cola. Collide with one another in midair to make miniature fireworks that leaves Krom staring in in horror and Ivy clapping exuberantly with cheers of “Encore, encore~!” while Garrus bows.

“Thank you, thank you,” and more sincerely to Krom, “Your never-ending patience is something I will never be worthy of, darling.”

Krom who gulps down a nearby glass of water, voice wavering. “I’m happy to—to try things out. Just nothing that flies out of me next time, please?”

“I’ll try, but I make no promises.”

And they all know what that’s code for. Of course he promises. He cares too much about the softest Stone Troll to do anything else. But points for keeping up the bravado.

Taylor doesn’t get the chance to speak before he catches Katherine’s eye where she sits with a tumbler of something honey-colored and smelling strongly of the last vestiges of a bonfire at dawn. The huntress downs her liquor like a shot and slides off her stool.

“Ryder?”

He nods to the doorway through which he’d come and gets a passing pat on the back as his only thanks. Better than nothing.

By the time he takes up her place Garrus already has a replacement soda with a speared cherry resting on the rim sliding his way.

And Taylor’s happy to take the offer; only he stops just shy of bubbling carbonation touching his lips.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Excusez-moi?” Garrus clasps a pale hand to his chest. “Are you implying I’ve somehow tampered with your beverage, sir?”

“Obviously.”

The elven man wilts dramatically and with a number of expressive hand gestures. Braces himself first against the bar then the shelves behind him while lamenting over the pain of accusation like his neck is on the line.

He’s just the usual Garrus, silly with a touch of sass. And judging by some of the looks his kindred throw in their direction they ought to try and be a bit more serious given the circumstances but no—no they won’t.

Everyone could use a genuine laugh right now. Garrus is doing more for them all than he knows.

The soft “ah-hem” of a cleared throat drags Taylor’s focus off and aside — where a familiar wave of gossamer hair lingers inside a doorway.

He may not be in a wheelchair or sport stitches or wrappings but Elric is still recovering from the attack at the theatre. Each step a little less graceful and fluid, his eyes alight only because he’s looking at Taylor.

Krom stops Garrus mid-word with an outstretched hand.

The fae lord reaches out a touch that Taylor doesn’t shy away from. The hairs on his arms stand up but that’s only because Elric exudes an aura of power even when weakened.

“May I borrow my son, Garrus?”

And though there’s considerably less mirth in the bartender’s voice when he answers— “that’s something you should be asking him” —it isn’t the same cold dismissal as before.

Elric clearly means to, but Taylor nods before he can.

The only place they can find to be alone is a closed-off office space. Deemed not worth the decoration the doors are drawn closed but remain unlocked.

A wave of Elric’s hand brings a pale pink fire whispering to life in the hearth across the room. Fills the room with a warmth Taylor can’t quite put his finger on and casts both their faces in undulating shadows.

“Thanks for pulling this off so quickly,” Taylor goes first only because he’s had it on the brain ever since the end of their call. “Guess some stereotypes aren’t just myth huh?”

“Pardon?”

“Elves and parties.”

“I do not understand.”

A sigh. Of course he doesn’t. “Nevermind — just… thanks.”

He reaches out a hand for Elric to grasp, or shake, or whatever odd greeting the fae may have he’s yet to learn.

And Elric accepts — goes one step further. Before Taylor knows what’s happening he’s in a crushing embrace, can feel the man’s sharp features on the top of his head with arms pinned at his sides.

Hugging has never been his forte. Purely a body dysphoria thing — he can’t not be conscious of the way his body feels against another.

Then he feels the way Elric is shaking like a leaf. Just this once, then.

When they part pale hands cup his cheeks. A critical eye surveying him for the smallest cut or remnants of a bruise. The relief when he finds nothing flows from Elric in waves.

“Had I the strength left to conjure a glamour I would not have abandoned you.”

Oh, he hadn’t even thought about it. “You got flattened by a giant heap of metal for me. I’d hardly call that abandonment.”

“Even with the creature gone, I should have stayed.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” and when the man recoils, “it gave you a chance to recover. To get all this going.”

He gestures to the decorated house beyond.

Elric quickly accepts that his guilt doesn’t need an excuse; good, too, because they don’t have a lot of time to spend on heart-to-hearts.

“You have dedicated yourself to this plan, then.”

It catches Taylor by surprise. “If you mean this is what we’re going with? Then yes. We all agreed it’s worth the risk.”

Well, not all. Not Tonya — she had no choice. Not Isadora or Kristof or even Elric. But Isadora had come.

Elric was here, in front of him. And he’s giving his son a look of scrutiny that feels a little too judgmental for their current predicament.

“Something has changed about you.”

“I mean, I could use a shower.”

“Not about you,” like that’s not what he just said, “but about you. A change clings to your soul.

“It says…” his eyes widen with realization, “you truly believe this can work?”

He’s not questioning Taylor’s resolve. That he somehow knows unspoken. But it makes sense… up until now (and really still, only with a little more coffee and a lot more planning) he’s been Mister Negativity, Mister Ready-to-Die.

Why wouldn’t he be? No clue, no hope, no faith — no power. And not much is situationally different, yet still.

He chooses his words carefully. “I think we have a better chance this time around.”

“Time to plan, perhaps. Yet these same numbers you gather here could do nothing to it before. Unless you’ve found the creature’s weakness.”

“Jeez, Dad, can you just trust me on this?”

The words come out of him at an unnatural angle. The way they feel habitual but definitely aren’t — that first time you fuck up and call a teacher ‘Mom’ in kindergarten.

They’ve got the same dumb look on their face, haven’t they?

Catching scaffolding with his back isn’t enough to suddenly make Taylor want to look into every other weekend and major holidays with the man but it’s certainly not nothing.

Nor is his exclamation, not kind or pleading by any means but filled with frustration sometimes only a parent can bring bursting forth.

He steps out of arms’ reach just in case.

Because Elric looks like he’s about to start weeping.

“I do. And I am sorry for not… for conveying that improperly.”

“Apology accepted.”

But the deed is done; their dynamic forever changed. For some reason the first thing Taylor thinks of is Elric taking him to sit in the nosebleeds at a football game — in full Lamrian splendor but with a Saints hat covering his ears.

And the only protest his dumb brain can come up with? That he hates football. Like nothing else is wrong with that mental image.

Focus, Taylor, focus.

“We know things now that we didn’t before. We’ll be expecting an attack this time.”

“You are certain it will come?”

“I’d stake my life on it.” Poor choice of words.

“You will do no such thing.” His expression going dark, Elric’s jaw clenches firm. “I do not regret my attempts to stay out of this battle for my people, or those to try and keep you safe by whatever means kept you from the fight.

“But I watched my son turn his back on me — a braver soul than I and in so few years. For the past I will do whatever can be done in the present.”

“Yeah yeah, heard it all before.”

But it isn’t dismissal for dismissal’s sake — says that enough in the long look they exchange.

In Lamrian he remembers with clarity; had seen standing before him a coward.

And that may very well have been true. But Taylor isn’t the only one who has a change about him, clinging to him like a thin film.

He’s trying. And that’s all any of them can do.

You know who’s not so keen on trying?

Three guesses. Go on.

“Go over it just one more time for me.”

“There’s nothing more to add, Ryder.”

“I mean I ain’t questionin’ your memory but…”

“For once I’m inclined to agree. But that’s really all there was to it.”

Beside them Cal adjusts the thawing T-Bone higher on his face. “Speak for yourself.”

Taylor snatches a peek of the swollen, purpled eye beneath it and cringes. “Are you sure there’s nothing Ivy can do?”

“Nah,” the wolf’s sigh is a little too heavy, “was my damn fault for thinkin’ I could call an Alpha’s honor into question anyway. I jus’ got caught up thinkin’ about the stakes, and seein’ Donny, and all that energy he was puttin’ out…”

Vera shushes him, manages to get a more sanitary solution to the wounds with small dabs of antibacterial paste. “This — men don’t do this, Cal. Animals do this.” And even with only one good eye the look he gives her says it all. “You know what I mean.”

“There’re some things that just gotta be settled with the wolf.”

Cadence makes a conscious effort to keep his pat to Cal’s back on the gentler side but the man still winces, sore. “Well I had every confidence in you. It was rather fascinating to watch, actually.”

“Wait wait —” all eyes on the vampire who blinks owlish; innocent, and Taylor can’t believe what he’s hearing; “— you just stood and watched?”

And though the blond splutters a number of protests, the group’s collective sympathy is lacking.

“The same man who broke a Minotaur’s spine in six diff’rent places for that same pack of wolves.”

Only maybe because he’s a vampire his face can’t blush red — no, no he’s seen it. So why then does Cadence go pale all the way to the lips?

“That was a… unique situation.”

“Relax, guys, there was nothin’ he could’a done anyway.” There’s an unspoken irony in Cal being the one to call off the dogs, but it works.

But it’s not like their group vampire hasn’t been strange from the beginning. Taylor’s still not convinced it wasn’t someone else, like an evil double, who threatened his way into Persephone’s cage to fight on Donny’s behalf. He certainly can’t imagine the man in front of him doing it — plaid sweater aside.

When Taylor catches Cade catching him stare he fumbles, doesn’t really have an excuse but thankfully doesn’t need one. Not when the entire House can hear Kristof shouting somewhere unseen, something about “Who do I gotta see about gettin’ a six pack around here?!”

By process of eliminating who Kristof wouldn’t immediately attack it’s Vera who sighs and pushes onward. Taylor would go himself but he hangs back instead — gently grabs for Cal’s arm and attention.

So much of their plan rests on every single person the Coven Elders are targeting being in one place tonight. They can’t risk Kristof leaving in a wild stampede.

But he never meant for this — for every grunted effort as Cal’s body actually puts conscious effort into healing in time.

Because it isn’t a matter of if Reimonenq the Wraith will come — but when.

“I know that look Taylor, you’re overthinkin’,” the smile Cal gives him isn’t betrayed by his pain — or maybe just stronger than it, “I knew what I was doin’ and I’d do it again if need be.”

“You mean for that to be reassuring but it’s not reassuring Cal, it’s not.”

“We all played our part.”

“Yeah, but we all didn’t have a dick of a guy play Whack-a-Mole with our faces.”

Cal throws his head back and laughs until it physically hurts. He insists he’ll be fine after a few drinks and some rest. Taylor just hopes they can afford to give him that time.

When they finally move to join the others he offers his shoulder for the wolf to prop himself up on. The pride in his eyes says no but the arm that seeps lava-like warmth through Taylor’s clothes acts otherwise.

“I wasn’t so keen on the beating,” Cal mumbles just before they reach the garden doors, “but I’d take a lot worse to go back there for longer.”

He doesn’t need to ask why. They both know. “Donny holding up okay?”

“He’s a Lowell — he’ll be just fine.”

He will be, though, that’s the implication and it makes his heart sink.

Remember what The Fate said. He’s alive — that matters.

There’s only one ward this time — the point already proven that it’s more for decoration than any real use. But trying to keep something out is the exact opposite of the point.

The noise from the hustle and bustle of the French Quarter fills in in lieu of music. Gives a boisterous abandon to the air where otherwise it hangs like a noose around their precariously balancing necks.

It’s a party worthy of dozens; crowds of people from all walks of life — Pack or gang or family it didn’t matter with the celebration at hand. Or it would if there were more than the bare essentials; than Taylor and the rest, those left making up the Council that aren’t actively trying to kill them all or, in the Mayor’s case, woefully oblivious.

Then Ryder is at his side, flask in familiar hand. He tries—and fails—to cover up when he reaches for Taylor like holding on to any part of him will get them through this unscathed.

Mostly because in the process of faking a yawn he just swallows a mouthful of liquor.

“You look like you’re overthinkin’ this.”

Of course he is. Aren’t they all? “Actually, I was just admiring how much they were able to get done. This place looks like an actual celebration.”

Because it doesn’t matter how many attendees the party is worthy of. All that matters is the one they need to show up.

Nik’s eyes sweep the garden with a satisfied nod. “Definitely the most gussied-up trap I’ve ever taken part in. You’ve got a real eye for this, Rook.”

“Does that mean if I decide to go into the oddly specific party-slash-hellspawn-trap planning business you’ll join me?”

“There’s prob’ly better money in it.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

They laugh. They lock eyes.

They both know it would be the perfect moment if absolutely everything about it was different.

Taylor inhales to keep from smelling the whiskey on his breath as Nik leans forward — places a firm kiss right at his hairline.

Okay… maybe not everything needs to be different.

“Last chance to veto the plan.”

He murmurs it into the sweat and dirt on the man’s skin; knows that with all they’ve rushed to put together in the final hours of the final days he can’t possibly smell any better.

It takes Nik a pause to respond; to keep his tone steady and certain and rock-solid. One of them has to be.

“Do you want me to?”

“Only if you have a better one.”

And they both know this plan is it. The last chance, the only thing they have left up their collective sleeves. If it doesn’t work…

If it doesn’t work then at least Taylor knows he did his best, and that his last moments were ones like this.

“We could always make a run for it,” but before he can pull back, before he can tell Nik it isn’t a funny joke, he’s held closer; almost painfully so, “jus’ you an’ me on the open road. Doubt they’d come after us once we’re clear of here… An’ yeah, means we could never come back but I ain’t exactly Mister ‘Community Ties.’”

“You’d really leave our friends behind?”

“Fine, they can come too.”

“Are we all piled on top of your motorcycle in this scenario?”

“Nah… maybe a trailer or somethin’. I know a couple of lifers who live at RV outposts off the beaten path.”

It isn’t the idea of leaving New Orleans—the Council—the whole shadow community to their fates that’s the appeal. The appeal is a happier time; a better way. Even if it’s rough and a little uncomfortable and quickly pushing aside thoughts of Wolfman Cal and an RV that never doesn’t smell like wet dog… it would be their life. One they carved for themselves.

No intervention (or lack thereof) from higher powers to speak of.

“All right—you’ve convinced me. Let’s scram.” Taylor teases. Neither of them moves an inch.

Not even when they start to squeeze one another so hard it hurts.

“Should leave before anyone notices.”

“Probably.”

The two men part. Because he’s not meant to notice the single wet streak down Nik’s cheek, he doesn’t.

Calloused fingertips tickle the barely-there hair on his chin; coax Taylor to lift his head where he catches the last light in the Nighthunter’s eyes before a single bottle rocket goes off behind him and showers his dark head in a halo.

“This is a good plan, Rook. I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

“That’s because you’re not used to having a plan.”

“You… well you ain’t wrong.”

Eventually the fireworks begin to go off near the Mississippi — sparkling showers a brighter white than the moon itself, dazzling configurations in spirals and spheres and one memorable golden fleur de lis — and there’s a shift to the air within the garden walls.

It’s nearly midnight.

It’s time.

“Is everyone gathered?” asks Elric of his son, suddenly at his side — joining him in looking to the sky to admire human handiwork.

He knows the answer but quadruple-checks anyway. His heart picks up a few beats with every familiar face taken in.

Bring everyone together. Draw the Elders out of hiding.

Kristof. Elric. Isadora. The Coven’s final obstacles.

Do whatever it takes to force their hands; to bring the bloodwraith Derek Reimonenq down on them like a final reckoning.

Cadence. Tonya. The bloodwraith’s personal vendetta.

And hope this works.

Just there, behind Vera’s forced smile under the glowing apples of light on a garden tree — a face half-hidden in shadow. A young man, probably around Taylor’s age; burdened with the knowledge of how this will end and only able to stand witness.

He looks away from The Fate and finds a little bit of that hope he needs so desperately in the way Elric looks at him with pride.

“Take it down.”

This time Lord Elric takes the duty on his own shoulders rather than those of his subjects. Raises his hands high to the dark sky and begins to unravel the threads of his strongest wards.

Fresh night air prickles gooseflesh down his arms. They are coming.

Then the earth is warm beneath his shoes. The smell of fresh blossoms and fae-ripened fruits replaced with the embers of an all-consuming inferno.

They’re here.

Across the garden Taylor and Elder Daniels lock eyes and are held, bound, by something more than magic. Something that permeates the material world around them and isn’t easily defined.

But if he had to pick he would only need one word: conviction.

He thrusts his soda can out at her in toast. Gathers up all of his voice and shouts with a face-splitting grin.

“Laissez les bon temps rouler!”

[rawmeknockout]

i am NOT antivax and am very offended that anon would think that of me, i am just very horny for whirl specifically and ya know if an infectious disease is the cost then so be it anyways please vaccinate your fucking hellspawn

ur gonna need to vaccinate the hellspawn whirl implants in u have fun wrangling child support out of him

[desertwindhounds]

I don't care about the new year. I just want the local hellspawn to go back to school and stop spreading their infectious greeblies everywhere.