#vampires hate him: local man wastes SO much fucking blood

[marielle-heller]

Why me? Who am I?

[kaleidoscopek9]

ALRIGHT-

SO

I've had this list of headcannons just sitting in my notes app of my phone and I wanna put it somewhere so 👀

(These are heavily inspired by what I could gather from the skele boys in @bonelyheartsclub! I just threw in a few of my own.)

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Sans

- Does a LOT of stargazing and has quite a few space-themed knicknacks and clothes in his room. He's got a telescope too!

- Dad jokes. Any time is prime dad joke time. He's never let an opportunity slip past him.

- He's an absolute prank master. You're considered lucky if you happen to avoid the ones he's planted around the house like bombs waiting to go off.

- He's cryptic as fuck. Always giving half-true answers to every question. Occasionally he may slip up and give you a brutally honest response, but that's only with the people he trusts most, and he finds being open to be very difficult.

- He's constantly referencing memes and vine quotes from days of yore. He practically has a database of every meme ever in his head, and he doesnt let it go to waste.

- Cuddling with him is basically a one way ticket to nap-town, and you constantly find yourself waking up to him smooshed against you on the couch after dozing off. For being a skeleton, he is a surprisingly comfortable snuggler.

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Papyrus

-So much baking and cooking. It's his favorite past time, and the kitchen never smells the same when he's done making whatever he's making in there (it's 12 times out of 10 pasta) And while his cooking may be sub-par, you never say no when he asks you to try his latest dish.

- He's always up to go shopping with you. It never matters where. Malls are his favorite, especially the big grand ones with fountains and huge windows. He makes it a point to bring spare cash because you KNOW he's going to ride the mini marry-go-round even if he can barely fit in the seats.

- You two love to binge watch cooking channels. Always discussing which foods would be the most fun to make, writing down recipies, and having a hell of a time trying to pause the show at the right points to get all the information down.

- Papyrus is notorious for game nights. He's always pulling out boards and cards that you've never heard of before and never starts a game until he's absolutely certain you know the rules. Winning of course, is always his prime goal when it comes to games, but if he senses you're on a particularly rough losing streak, he MAY slip up. Occasionally. Just enough so you can win a game or two. Or five.

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Blue

- Hyper as all hell. You give him a reasonable dose of sugar or caffeine and he could power an entire city for a few hours without breaking a sweat.

- If he had been in high school, Blue would have been a theater kid. He's always humming a tune from a Broadway show or Disney movie, and he's got a pretty good collection of songs on his brother's Spotify playlist.

- This guy will blast Steven Universe music at full volume he has no shame.

- If you are ever driving somewhere with him, an aux cord is a MUST. Singing in the car is a very frequent thing with you two, and you'll only get out after the song is over.

- He likes cryptids! Mothman is his favorite and he firmly believes he exists somewhere.

- He's your workout buddy. If he manages to drag you to the gym with him, that is.

- Blue hates seeing you down in the dumps, and is always trying to cheer you up with his quirky puns and jokes to get you smiling again.

- He'd be the best motivational poster ever. Whenever he picks up that you're going through a rough spot and falling behind on self-care, he knows just what to say to put the spark back in you again.

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Stretch

- Radiates goblin energy.

- A goddamn meme lord.

- He's made two or three widely known viral videos and nobody knows it was him.

- You need someone to go to an anime convention with? Stretch is your guy. He's god awful at planning stuff out, but he'll make sure you both have a good time, no matter what happens.

- He's really big into nerd culture, and he DMs for a dungeons and dragons game every week.

- He'll occasionally smoke, but he doesnt have lungs, so he does it more for shits and giggles than anything else.

- As lazy as he seems, he is very reliable. If he knows it's something important to you, he'll get it done. Chores though, he's a lot more iffy with.

- He really likes bees.

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Red

- Talks big talk, but he's actually a huge softie.

- He's basically a big pillow with sharp teeth that can curse.

- A nervous wreck.

- His brother shops at Hot Topic. He shops at Spencer's. Very convenient.

- He's a pretty big flirt and throws out little compliments and things to butter you up from time to time.

- If you take Red into a Dave and Busters he will win the most expensive prize at the booth in about 2 hours. (He knows how to cheat at every single game)

- He's a competitive gamer, and has a pretty impressive following on Twitch.

- He can go from loud and brash to quiet and insecure in a matter of moments, depending on the situation.

- He loves to bake, although it's something he will never be caught dead doing.

- Comfort is not his strong suit, but he will defend you without a second thought.

- He can be a little clingy and will text you now and again to ask what you're up to, just to ease his mind.

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Boss

- Professionalism is his game.

- The walking embodiment of Hot Topic.

- He loves to listen to rock and screamo music. He's also got a thing for Disney villain songs.

- You need some punk biker or vampiric goth fashion advice? Boss got ya.

- Skellator Man.

- Out of all the skeletons, Boss has the biggest ego.

- He hates admitting he's wrong. He would rather DIE than admit he's fucked up something.

- "I am not nice-"

- He could kill a man with his high heels.

- If it's got spikes he'll probably wear it.

- Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsu

- Did I mention he's a cold blooded tsundere.

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Nox

- Small angery man.

- He listens to a lot of classic and instrumental music. He finds it very sophisticated.

- Wakes up obscenely early in the morning. Always followed by a cup of the most bitter coffee on the planet.

- Comes up with the best insults. He could roast someone so hard that they'd dissolve into a pile of soot. He could glare at you and you'd cease to exist. He's that good.

- WILL step on you without remorse.

- Threatens to kill someone on a daily basis.

- Very rarely has spare time for himself. He's always keeping busy doing something.

- Loves dark, dry humor. A child falling off a swing will have him laughing for a good five minutes.

- Has a stone cold poker face.

- He might have a softer side to him. You may never know because of the walls he's built up around him.

-----------*

Rus

- He absolutely adores animals. He volunteers at the local animal shelter and plans on adopting every single dog there.

- Rus has a massive sweet tooth. Donuts are his favorite, and you can easily bribe him with anything sugar coated.

- A road trip master. You put him in a camper and he knows exactly where he's going and what he's doing.

- "Going off grid, fuck yeah- I pull out my credit cards and shred 'em."

- Hiking, camping and geocaching are some of his favorite things to do. He loves to explore the wilderness and it's like he has a built-in compass for finding his way.

- His ideal date is going to a Wal-Mart and causing absolute chaos by riding bikes around and tossing all of the inflatable balls from their displays.

- Cryptidcore energy.

- Rus loves watching Buzzfeed Unsolved and ghost huntings. He's a big fan of Supernatural and Stranger Things, too.

- Stutters and slurs his words a lot. He's got some speech impediments from the gold canines in his mouth.

- A bit lacking when it comes to social skills, but he can be extremely caring and sweet.

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Ash

- Very soft-spoken and awkward. He doesn't get much social interaction and is still figuring some things out.

- He's very self-aware of the wound in his head. Whenever he has to leave the house he wears some sort of hat to cover it up.

- Practically lives in his garden. He understands plants more than he does human beings, and he spends time daily tending to whatever he's growing.

- Him and his brother are both vegetarians, and the smell or sight of meat makes them both feel sick to themselves.

- Has trouble sleeping due to his reoccurring nightmares. He will often sit in his garden late at night to help calm himself.

- Radiates soft energy. He would absolutely give the best hugs out of all the skeletons.

- Very touch-starved. Physical affection is something he rarely recieves, and he probably lingers with touches a lot longer than he should.

- Unintentionally makes God-teir jokes without realizing it.

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Poplar

- Very well-educated in a lot of things. He really likes stocking up on useless factoids and making up his own just to mess with people.

- He answers Jeopardy questions with concerning accuracy.

- He enjoys going out to eat, and he's always up to try fancy foods.

- He likes photography and reading. He is well into the Harry Potter series.

- Poplar is prepared for anything at any time. A lot of stuff doesnt phase him at all, and it's difficult to catch him off-guard.

- He's willing to try anything new, once.

- Always willing to help out with schoolwork if he thinks you're seriously struggling with it.

- He's always carrying around small planners and notebooks to write in so he can keep track of things.

[jaskierswolf]

The Viscount and The Witcher pt.1/4

(Note: Reposted from my old blog. The rest can be found on my Ao3 or on my pinned masterlist)

Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove was bored. He’d been bored for some time now. In his youth he’d dreamed of becoming a travelling bard. He’d even focused his time in Oxenfurt on the liberal arts and had graduated quite successfully from the academy, but before he’d even begun his journey to becoming renowned troubadour, he’d been called back to his family home. The news of his father’s death had been an unfortunate one and he’d been forced to step up and become head of his vast estate.

There had been a moment, in the dead of night, witching hour, when he’d very nearly picked up his lute and fled.

He hadn’t.

He’d turned over and gone back to sleep. He did have a rather luxurious bed and he’d not been short of company to fill it with. He often wondered what would have become of him if he had run away that night, at barely eighteen. He often dreamed of the songs he could have written, the people he could have met, the adventures he could have had.

A deep part of him sorely regretted the path not taken.

Instead he drowned his sorrows in the most delicious wine from Toussaint and lured beautiful people to his bedchamber. He was determined to enjoy the few pleasures left to him in gluttonous amounts.

He gazed out of the window of his study into the gardens. They were stunning at this time of year. They weren’t the most well kept gardens, but he liked that. He enjoyed the wild long grass and the litany of yellow, white and purple weeds that sprung up in the summer. The sounds of bees filled the air, a constant low buzzing that he found both soothing and wildly distracting. He enjoyed a long stroll in the gardens when he wasn’t buried under paperwork. Quite frankly he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the different silk sheets used in the guest bedrooms or whether the local houses were paying their taxes in time. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all of that diplomatic nonsense just disappeared?

Poverty could become a thing of the past. He’d given away vast amounts of his fortune whenever he could convince his lawyers to let the assets go but his estate only thrived more as the farmers, workers and merchants were able to work more efficiently and invested more funding into their livelihoods.

He couldn’t begrudge them that but he felt guilty for owning so much when they lived on so little so he kept feeding his money back into the surrounding villages and they kept growing and expanding their homes and businesses.

None of the surrounding lords or barons could understand how he did it.

He couldn’t exactly explain it himself.

He had been hoping to run his estate into the ground so he could run off and have the heroic adventures that he’d always dreamed of. Perhaps he would even run into one of those witchers. He was fascinated by witchers. He always had been, ever since he was a boy and he’d heard the rumours of the Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. The rumours were that the man had slaughtered an entire village with his bare hands in some kind of blood-fuelled frenzy.

Julian didn’t believe that for a second.

He’d snuck down to the library and buried himself under books, scrolls and parchments, anything in his father’s great library with even the whiff of a witcher. He’d read bestiaries and fairytales, utterly bewitched by the tales of fae, vampires and werewolves. He devoured everything he could by candlelight. It was what had driven him to his chosen career as a bard. He wanted to experience those stories himself, he needed to live it. His thirst for knowledge and innate curiosity had seen him through Oxenfurt with ease. He’d been able to spend far too long in taverns and brothels whilst his peers studied books and manuscripts that he’d read within the first months of attending the famous school. The library had been enviable and he’d been unable to stay away for months.

He sighed dramatically. It had all been a fucking waste of time. He closed the leather-bound book he’d been scrawling in, even after all these years he couldn’t help the flashes of creative inspiration that hit him. It was like a vampire’s thirst, burning in his throat and heart. He had to write, he had to play and sing and dance. He ran his fingers along the underside of his writing desk until he heard a faint click and a drawer popped open. He tucked the book neatly into the draw beneath the pressed dandelion.

Dandelion.

It was to be his stage name had he followed through with his plans.

He’d kept the pressed yellow flower as a reminder. He picked it up and twirled it between his fingers before sighing loudly.

“Master Dandelion, renowned troubadour and poet.” He pouted before gently returning the flower to its cage and closing the drawer shut, it vanished into the wooden desk without a trace. “I supposed it is quite poetic,” He whined. “I am like the flower trapped in my own cage from which I cannot escape. The flower which holds my name and soul shares my fate.”

He groaned and bumped his head against the desk. The long feather in his hat flopped down, tickling his nose. He promptly sneezed.

“Ah. To the gods! Even my own hat hates me.” He moaned.

Thankfully he was pulled from his self-pity by a knock at the door. He jumped to his feet and straightened his hat, tucking the treacherous heron feather back into place.

“Come in!” He trilled.

Annabelle, a pretty redhead and one of his longest serving maids entered the room. “ Lord Lettenhove.” Annabelle curtsied.

Julian rolled his eyes and pulled the girl to her feet. “Annabelle, dearest, how many times must I ask you to call me Julian and none of this grovelling nonsense. Tell me, how are your family? Your mother was sick, is she feeling any better? I trust she received the medicine I sent.”

Annabelle blushed and smiled up at him. “Yes Lord Let - Lord Julian. Thank you very much. You are too kind to us.”

“My darling, I simply have nothing better to do with my fortune than ensure my staff are well looked after. How’s the little one, Eleanor if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, Lord Julian. She’s growing up fast. My sister told me she started to crawl yesterday.” Annabelle answered meekly.

Julian gasped and put his hand to his chest. “And you missed it! Oh my dear, my sincerest apologies.”

Annabelle shook her head. “I love my job, Lord Julian. There is no reason to apologise. You’ve already done far too much for my family.”

It was Julian’s time to blush. He hated how much his staff revered him, didn’t they realise his motivations were purely selfish? He just wanted to get out of this house! He wanted to leave them. They just didn’t see any of that but he didn’t let his frustration show. “Now now, they’ll be time to sing my praises later, my dear, what was it that you needed? We are not due another order from the farms yet are we?”

The girl laughed quietly. “No, nothing like that. Forgive me, Lord Julian, I don’t mean to make assumptions.”

She shuffled awkwardly on her feet. “Well go on! Don’t keep me in suspense like this.” He pouted with a hand on his hips.

“There’s a rumour going round, Lord Julian.” She blushed. “About a witcher in one of the outer villages. They were having problems on the full moon. Mysterious and gruesome murders.”

Julian wanted to jump for joy.

A real witcher.

On his land.

“Oh my!” He clapped his hands together. “We must send for him at once!” He ran to his desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment. “Now tell me Annabelle what monsters are more enticing to a monster hunter, vampires or werewolves?” He scoffed before she could answer. “No no, that’s too obvious, and unbearably dull. Nekkers? Oooh, what about a draconid? A forktail perhaps?”

Annabelle kept opening and closing her mouth but there was no interrupting Julian when he got like this. He barely even noticed he still had company.

“Or a wraith!” He laughed gaily. “Oh yes that will do nicely! A wraith haunting the attic! Then we may get to see the witcher in action, oh the tales I could write! Maybe I could publish them under a pseudonym, Master Dandelion may yet still live!”

His hands flew over the paper as he scrawled as quickly and elegantly as he could. Once he was finished he read it over quickly, cornflower blue eyes scanning over the words quick as lightning.

     My dear witcher,    

     On behalf of Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove, I would like to thank you for offering your services to assist our villagers with their furry little problem. I write this letter before the news of your success has reached me but I have no doubt that you will succeed in your quest! You must tell me whether you have slain the beast or cured it of the lycanthropy. I await the tale of your heroic adventure with great anticipation.    

     The Lord Lettenhove requests your presence at his estate. You see, my dearest witcher, we have a little pest problem of our own. A wraith haunts the house and our poor chambermaids are quite at their wits end with fright.    

     I beseech you. Don’t delay.    

     Yours, Dandelion.    

He chuckled at the name. He was going to have a lot of fun with this witcher, whoever it maybe, and he didn’t need the witcher knowing exactly who he was just yet. He sealed the letter swiftly and all but shoved poor Annabelle from the room so that she could deliver it hastily.

He followed after her and practically ran down the corridor and up the stairs to the master bedroom. He flung open his wardrobe as he hummed a new melody under his breath. He needed to choose an outfit. Something that was less Viscount and more genius bard.

He stripped off his golden doublet and trousers in exchange for his favourite plum set. It had intricate embroidery around the collar that he just adored. He paired the doublet with a white undershirt with lace around the cuffs and collar.

He took off his hat and twirled a strand of his soft golden blond hair in between his fingers. He’d been growing it out lately, he was really just so bored, and he’d been considering experimenting with some curling irons like he’d seen his cook use. He was certain that Hanna would show him how to use them if he asked nicely.

But did he have enough time for that?

He still needed to set up his wraith problem, and it needed to be convincing enough to keep the witcher around long enough to get to know him, perhaps he could even lure the man to his bedroom if he were that way inclined.

Gods he hoped he was.

It had been too long since Julian, no, Dandelion, had had a male lover.

Well, if he was planning to seduce the man then he really should look his best but first he needed to make sure that they stage was set. He picked up his old forgotten lute from the corner of the bedroom, gently trailing a finger down the neck of the instrument before quickly plucking at the strings and fiddling with the pegs to make sure she was still in tune.

“I am so sorry darling.” He cooed to the instrument. “It’s been too long.”

He tucked her into his old lute case and appraised his reflection in his mirror.

“Hmm…” He stuck his tongue out as he concentrated. “Not quite right. Oh yes! My hat!” He swiped up a matching plum coloured bonnet and pinned a feather in place because plopping it onto his head. He looked back at his reflection with a furrowed brow and then inspiration hit him and he tilted his hat so he fell slightly to one side. “Perfect!”

He giggled and bowed dramatically to his reflection. “Master Dandelion, at your service!” He grinned seductively.

Oh this witcher would have no idea what hit him.

[vampirepatrickau]

hmmmmm hmmmmmmmmm i wonder whos been too unfocused to actually write hmmmmmmmmmmmmm anyways heres a drabble

Joe opened Patrick's door hesitantly, stepping in once Patrick was aware that it wasn't some rando coming in. “Have you never locked a door before, Patrick? Jesus Christ, man,” He said playfully, closing the door and locking it behind him. The vampire didn't move from his place on the bed, only gesturing slightly to sit down. “The party is shit, by the way, everyone's too wasted to be fun.”

“You're not drinking?” Patrick asked quietly. “I would've liked a beer if you grabbed me one.”

“I can go get you one if you want.”

“No, don't. I don't feel like getting drunk if you have to leave. Why aren't you drinking, though, I thought you'd be enjoying yourself, 'n’ shit.”

“I was actually kinda, kinda thinking about sneaking out with you and going out on some sort of date, tonight, right?” Joe reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out his keys. He jingled them, a goofy grin on his face. “If you want to, of course.”

“What kind of date are you, like, are you considering?”

“Something cheap, like, like, we go to a park and walk around or something, then go 'n’ get a quick bite to eat, or something, then go home.”

Patrick thought a moment. “Sure, Joe. Does—does Andy know?”

“Yeah, Andy knows.”

“Okay, that's good, I don't want us to get, like, hurt or anything, and for him to not know that we're out at all.”

“We won't be getting hurt, man.”

“What if we do? I mean, there aren't any, any local hunters out, they're all here, so who's to say?”

“We won't get hurt, promise. I'm not gonna let anything happen, we can drive pretty far out, so we're out of range for most gangs, okay?”

“Okay, babe. I'm not gonna not trust you, y'know, but…”

Joe wrapped his arms around Patrick and kissed him, pulling him upright. They separated slowly. “You're cute, get dressed.”

“That sounds like a bit of an oxymoron, Joey,” He teased.

Joe scoffed. “Yeah, whatever.”

Patrick threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, then kissed Joe. “Okay, I'm ready, how are we leaving? Through, like, the window, or..?”

Joe took Patrick's hand and escorted him through the apartment, out the front door.

It was a pleasant drive, the two of them singing along to Queen as they got to whatever park Joe was going to. It went by all too fast, really, there was a sense of camaraderie that being around Pete and even Andy couldn't provide. Maybe it was because they were, like, dating. Or whatever.

They got out of the car and Patrick immediately went towards the bunk, opening it and pulling out two stakes. “You don't need to,” Joe mumbled. Patrick shook his head and threw one to Joe, then grabbed another.

“Just in case.” He said, testing his hold on the both of them before shoving one in his pocket. “Okay, so, like… was the party actually shit, or what?”

“I don't necessarily like Pete's friends, man. They're too try-hard. I'd rather spend time with you.” Joe closed the bunk, then took Patrick's open hand. “You're nicer, anyways.”

“Are you just saying that 'cause they hate my kind?”

“No, I'm saying that 'cause I hung out in the bathroom with Andy the whole time.”

Patrick laughed. “Are you cheating on me, Joe? Cuz it seems like, like….”

Joe chuckled. “If I were, I wouldn't tell you,” He replied, kissing Patrick on the cheek. “Seriously, though, of course not.”

“I know, I know. You're an absolute sweetheart, I don't expect you to.” Patrick thought a moment, then stuck out his tongue. “Dummy.”

Joe laughed. “Hey! You're mean, Rick!”

“It’s a vamp thing, if you don't suck blood, you wouldn't understand. Hey, Joe, can we not just hang out in front of our car the whole night?”

“I…” Joe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let's go walk around.”

It was a nature park, entirely trails, and Joe expected it probably wasn't actually open that late at night. But, whatever, they could hopefully deal with the ticket, if Pete remembered to renew the license. Joe glanced at the plate, and the numbers didn't look off, at least. Joe half-pulled, half-walked-with Patrick to what seemed to be the main trail. The air was crisp, slightly too cold, but it felt nice. It was kinda hard to… to see, but Patrick could probably see fine, so it didn't matter. Patrick pushed up against him, his head against Joe's shoulder. So Joe put his arm around Patrick. They didn't actually talk much, mostly just enjoying each other's company, It was really nice.

“Something's off,” Patrick said out of completely nowhere, under his breath.

“What?” Joe felt too loud.

“There are… they know I know, I think. I think.” Patrick glanced around. “Yeah, yeah. Grab your stake, babe, there's maybe half a dozen.”

“How do you…?”

“It's like cat eyes, Joe, cat eyes. They shine a bit, maybe it's too dull for you, but I can see it.”

Joe looked around, moving away from Patrick slightly and pulling out his stake, finding himself seeing a rather dull glitter around them. “Fuck,” He whispered.

“If they won't fight, don't try to fight, Joe.”

“I'm not a dumbass, Rick.”

They kept walking.

And it took until they got back for any vampires to show themselves. Specifically, two were sitting on their car, one trying to open the back, and all three of them talking loudly to each other in very fake British accents. They quieted themselves, though, looking to the couple. They had a rather smug attitude about them. Patrick took a tentative step closer, grabbing his second stake. “Get away from my fucking car,” he hissed, then took another step forward. They didn't move. Patrick glanced to Joe, making sure he knew that they were about to fight. But Patrick didn't use his speed to go forward, surprisingly, instead going just into the brush and killing a vamp, or at least, causing a scream of pain to be cut off in a way that Joe could only assume was a vampire being turned to dust. It took Joe a few seconds before he followed suit, adjusting his grip on his stake, and looking to his side, then back, and identifying a rather close vampire. He ran towards it, hopefully taking the thing by surprise, and then threw the stake.

The hunter thought he missed his mark, but the vampire didn't get a time to retaliate before he started to turn to ash. He ran up to it, pulled his stake out of the vamp's stomach, and properly pushed it through its heart. He turned, and another was practically on top of him. His attempt at stabbing it with his stake went about as well as he thought it would go, that is, his stake was now out of his reach in the underbrush.

He managed to get his foot to connect, though, and kicked it just hard enough to trample his way into the brush, trying to find, at the very least, a sharp enough stick to work as a stake, if not his actual stake. Joe tripped as he tried to run, but managed to keep himself from fully falling into anything, hanging onto a branch to balance himself.

Branch.

He snapped it off of the tree, pointing it like a spear towards the vampire. It appeared to back off slightly, like the longer distance was more dangerous, even if it was a less sharp edge. He stabbed it at him, realizing that the hunter would be no match against the sheer speed that vampires could possess.

The gunshot that rang out from the parking lot told him that Patrick was probably having a significantly more difficult time than he was. It was almost tempting to run out and see if he was okay, it really was, but he had his own life to account for. After a few minutes of trying to dodge the vampire, Joe managed to land a hit, likely off from the heart. After all, only the vampire's arm had dissipated, the rest of it seemingly fine, although that was likely just due to the weapon Joe was using. He stabbed again, missing, and then again, landing another hit and a strangled cry, despite the fact that he only hit the thing's shoulder. He had to run, at that point, moving through the brush as quickly as he could.

And he was on the ground, face in the dirt. Shit.

What was interesting was that he wasn't being turned, or attacked at all. He flipped over, and saw the vampire pinned against a tree, struggling against Patrick.

“Who's gang are you from?” He asked, voice low. The vampire just struggled, so Patrick repeated himself.

“The—the Dandies, sir,” The vampire managed, still speaking in that all-too-fake accent.

“Who leads?”

“Mister Beckett, sir, please—”

Patrick shot him in the jaw, and the vamp was now a pile of ash. He turned slowly to Joe, and helped him up. “Silver bullets, must have some humans in their cohorts.”

“Who the fuck are the Dandies?”

“No clue. Must be from somewhere else, I've never seen such tacky costumes in Chicago. But they're all dead, now, I hope, so it shouldn't be a problem.”

“I thought you didn't like killing 'em. Vamps, I mean.”

“Did you see their skin, their eyes? They all seemed so feral, a bit older than most gang members, um.. I've done a, a good job of keeping myself sane, over the years, but they sure as hell haven't.” Patrick shivered slightly. “Let's get home, yeah? I don't wanna deal with more of these creeps.”

“Yeah, yeah, let's go.” Joe hooked their arms together as they walked back to the car.

It was four in the morning when they got back to the apartment to the start of a stern talking-to from Andy, followed by confusion as to why Joe was covered in mud and both of them were covered in scratches. They shrugged it off, citing their tiredness as a reason not to talk about it, Patrick cleaning up his cuts as well as possible while Joe took a shower to wash off all the dirt.

[kingveverhart]

Antoinette gets pregnant. 

Normally, between a couple who are committed, financially well off and already proven to raise one successful spawn (example A: Elvis) this is not such a big deal. These things happen.

Except when they don't, or rather shouldn't. 

-because Antoniette is a vampire, and it takes them a grand two months to realize what is happening to her (when her stomach has a more noticeable bump than she can pass off as food babies). 

"So..." She stares at Charlie, who has a distant gaze at her. Or rather at the bump. Between them, on the table is an assortment of magical tools (runes, tarot cards, bloody entrails of critters that the dogs are whining to get to), dubious old wives tell items (if you chew this water reed twice and it becomes blue, you're knocked up the duff, if red it's twins.) and three of the best pregnancy sticks the local shop had to offer. 

-and in the corner is a put out looking Roman (who had confirmed it as well, but tilting his head and looking at Antoniette weirdly). 

Everyone is silent, grave and waiting. 

"So. I'm going to be a big brother? Awesome." Elvis breaks it and smiles. "Feels a bit weird considering I'm in my twenties and mum's a vamp, but hey. We were already a weird family, right? High five to us for raising the bar." He waltzes over to his mother, kisses her cheek and high fives her with a gentle slap. 

It's weird, it's impossible and dangerous; but it's also theirs. 

+

Charlie never really figures it out, the best he can assume is that it was simply a matter of timing. Turning vampires human for short periods of time is something he can do. Has. Usually however it takes concentration, and takes a great deal of energy and power from him...but Charlie also likes to experiment with drugs, concoctions and potions just to see what happens. Sometimes that makes his power spike, sometimes the effects make him horny and hungry and it's very very possibly that he and Toni fucked during one of those spikes and voila, magica pregnancy. 

Awkwardly enough it's not his first. 

The only difference this time around, Antoinette is not only a woman, but she's also carrying child and it becomes clear that it's at an accelerated rate. One month she's hardly showing the next she can't sit up without help. 

"This. This is frustrating." She snaps, rolling to and fro to get out of their bed and failing, a week ago she could. Now, she can't. She looks six months pregnant and fucking feels it. "I want doughnuts, Charlie. And chocolate. And Ice cream. And Fries-"

She gorges herself on food more than usual, because she can no longer stand the taste of blood nor drink it. The baby has hijacked her body, her taste buds and stomach. If it were any other vampire, they would have wasted away, but Toni is old and strong and while she does become weaken it's not more than the average mortal would be. 

Except it gets worse and worse, and by the time they are read for the birth; they aren't.

(That's not true, Elvis takes his role of older brother seriously and goes out of his way to help his parents prepare, including painting the baby's room, setting it up and throwing them a baby shower. Elvis is the one who reads all the how to books and questions them like pop quizzes on how they raised him.)

What they aren't prepared for is how to get the baby out. Toni can't push the baby out, her body won't allow that amount of tearing and natural pain to happen. They can't go to any doctor -mortal or wizard wise, because vampire births are not a thing and if they ever want their child to have a normal life whatsoever, it's better that no one knows. 

So it's up to Charlie.

"I've only done this on corpses." He tells her, making a face and holding up the blade. Flesh is flesh, and yes he knows the insides of bodies and yes, he's worked through still hot blood and guts...but never while the body could talk or move. 

"I mean, if it helps, I kinda still am?" Toni huffs at him, there's sweat on her face and dripping down her back from the exturation she uses to refrain from screaming. The pain mounts and she shuts her eyes. "Do it now, Charlie." Charlie does his best to use his magic to keep her body from feeling anything -but she feels his hands. Moving and sparking within, his powers dipping in and coaxing the new life out. For a second her vision whitens into nothing -but a baby's cry brings her back and she laughs. 

She has a child. Born of her body, with the man she loves. 

+

Charlie hands the wet, messy babe to Toni and sews her up with the tightest stitches possible even though her body is already healing as it should. 

"It's a boy." Toni whispers, cuddling her son. She kisses his cheek, he squawks indignantly as only an infant can and she attempts to wrap him up in a blanket that Elvis hands her the second he rushes in. 

"Aw, damn. I was hoping for a little sister." Elvis settles into a chair and looks over his sibling, "So out with it, what's the poor bastard's name? I know you have something. I mean, look what I got burdened with."

"You mean my name?" Charlie turns and washes his hands of blood, moving towards his little family. "I was thinking James or Hale. My older brothers..."

"Or. Hey. Maybe something original? What about Todd or Tom? Tommy boy!" Elvis unhelpfully suggests, "I could trade. I'll pick a new name and he can be Charlie Elvis Everhart the Second. You know since, he's actually your offspring of normal means, kinda?"

"Shut up, don't think you can get out of the family that easy." Toni whispers, her voice soft because of the child. "You're our son."

Elvis pretends not to melt, and instead simply leans into her space. 

"Fine, but if I have to have family name, so does he." Elvis thinks hard. He actually doesn't know too much about the Everharts, other than what they've done. He knows in another time, in another country he had numerous aunts and uncles. He knows that their grandmother had a fondness for music that comes through in their middle names, that their grandfather escaped a curse and-"What about Casanova, for Grandpa?"

Charlie stills. In his new happiness, he doesn't like to think about his own father, and the disappointment he must be....but perhaps this will be a step in the right direction. "Casanova Reed, for Lou Reed." 

"Cas for short." Elvis interjects, "You lucky bastard, you get a cool nickname.”

"We could always nickname him Casper." Toni points out, grinning. "Witch, Vampire and Ghost. Get it? Like a supernatural sitcom."

Cas starts crying as if he hates the nickname.