chullochampion-blog

[chullochampion-blog]

“Glad we agree on something,” Craig said approvingly, flashing the man a thumbs up and resisting the urge to turn it into a middle finger for the time being. “But they are sentient. Stripe can do basic math and he’s always really happy when he finishes a problem right.” This he said with such pride in his voice that one would think he was talking about a Nobel Peace prize. “He can’t do stuff like, squares though. Just basic adding, subtracting, that stuff.”

Craig stuck out his tongue at him and finally let himself flip the bird at him, but nodded in affirmation, rocking his feet back and forth as he gave Tweek one last thought before returning to the situation at hand. Thinking about his best/boyfriend was always a nice thing to do, but he had to return to reality sometime.

“... Ohhh.” Craig didn’t fully buy it, honestly, he didn’t, but it was the most logical explanation for the ten year old at the moment, and quite frankly he couldn’t give less of a shit anymore as long as he didn’t cause any shit to happen. “That your part time job? Taking over the world after doin’ journalism?”

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For a moment he’s scared he’s disappointed him, but the kid bounces back quick. Daniel figures it’s a perk of being young. He wonders if he ever was like that—probably. It’s been so long since he was a child, the memories faded with age and alcoholism. “Yeah, exactly,” he agrees. “I don’t wanna fuck it up. It’s still a living being, even if it’s not sentient.”

He barely manages to stifle a chuckle—most things are delicate to him, now. He can’t hold a glass too hard for the fear he might snap it, has to be careful when he slams the door of his car on the occasional times he uses it. He’s learned how to monitor his strength early on—he’s sure a guinea pig won’t be difficult. He notices the smile. “Thinking about your boyfriend?” he guesses playfully.

Daniel can tell that he’s uneasy—he wipes his face again quickly, fabric rough against his skin. He wishes he didn’t have to lie, but he doesn’t want the kid to freak out and make a fuss. He doesn’t want to be recognised. So he forces a smile, lips tight over his fangs as if to hide them as he nods. “Yeah. I’m the numbers villain from James Bond, here to take over the world and everything.” A deliberate pause, a grin without teeth. “Actually, I can’t remember what the guy’s game was.”

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Craig deflated a little at his words, but soon perked up again, like any ten year old would. Despite being one of the more stoic fourth graders, he was still a kid, and prospects that involved his likes always made him bounce right back. “Allergies are bullshit, but I get it. Taking in a pet is always a really big change. That’s what my parents told me before they surprised me with Stripe.”

“Then that’s good,” Craig nodded sagely. “Guinea pigs aren’t like cats or dogs at all. They’re pretty delicate, so care is always needed.” Just like with Tweek, he mused mentally to himself, a different kind of smile crossing his face at the thought of his boyfriend.

The chullo wearing child was unsettled, on high alert because of the scent of blood, now fresher than the rather faint scent he thought he had caught earlier. His face reverting back to a deadpan, he tugged on a chullo flap for a few moments before hearing his explanation. His gaze lifted up to meet the older man’s, stoic, but he was biting his lip. “... Really?” He asked, after a few moments. He was still skeptical, but the parallel Dan had made made him just a little more lenient.

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“It’s a maybe, it’s a maybe,” he adds immediately. “I’d have to look into it. Allergies, and see if I could even fit it into my life and everything.” He’s not exactly lying about allergies—sometimes animals tend not to like him. It’s a hit and miss, and while Daniel can probably bespell people and animals by now, he doesn’t have the first clue how to do it—and he doesn’t feel up to doing it either. He doesn’t want to manipulate people.

“I can be careful.” He’s handled miniature worlds for decades, needing the gentlest of touch—guinea pigs are nothing compared to that. If there’s one power Daniel isn’t worried about, it’s his strength. He’s got enough control. The vampire can’t help but chuckle. Easily stressed? Join the club. Daniel operates on a so-stressed-I-stopped-caring kind of basis.

“No really, don’t—I can handle it myself.” He freezes when he realises his mistake, mouth snapping shut. He fumbles around for a handkerchief and instead wipes the tear on the black cuff of his jacket. He manages a nervous smile. “It’s—it’s nothing—don’t worry about it. I’m like that Bond villain. You know, the one with haemolacria? Uh—the one that cries blood.” Personally, he thinks it’s a nice on the spot safe—he tries not to be too proud just yet, hoping the kid will fall for it.

[chullochampion-blog]

Craig’s attention was immediately focused on Dan, eyes wide. “How do you- dude, you want to get a guinea pig?!” The boy wanted to stop smiling, but found that he couldn’t. This was a golden opportunity for someone to appreciate guinea pigs just as much as he did! “The key with guinea pigs is to be really, really careful with them. That’s all.” Pause. “Oh, and to give them lots of care, and to make them feel safe.”

“Guinea pigs are kind of easily stressed, so it’s very important that you treat them carefully,” Craig held his hands up in such a way that it looked like he was holding an invisible guinea pig up to his chest. “And then when you’ve got them, hold them to your chest or on your lap so he feels safe. Stripe’s already used to me so he kinda climbs up on my lap on his own now, but new guinea pigs usually need to have this done to them.”

Craig gazed at him seriously. “I shouldn’t, but I can, and I will if you’ll let me, y’know?” He’s pretty sure he can take on an adult - probably. It’s probably another adult with much less sense than his current seatmate that told him that. He was about to add further to it when his nose immediately caught the metallic scent of blood, and he froze, eyes immediately zoning in on the tear of blood on his cheek. “D-Dan?!” The fuck? Is he crying blood?!

bus 15 | open

Daniel doesn’t like describing himself by his tragedies. Sure, he bumped into a vampire or two. Yeah, he was severely messed up. Sometimes he forgets what century it is, sometimes he jolts at red curling hair. So what? He’s working on it. But here’s the thing—Daniel is a sum of his tragedies. The years of being chased means that he has little friends. He’s different from his fellow vampires in that he’s younger, more adaptable—and it’s isolated him to the point where he’s got very little moral support.

So when he looks just to the side, not meeting the boy’s eyes and hums a noncommittal “yeah, of course,” it’s a blatant lie. He’s had alcohol in lieu of a support system for a long time in his life. Daniel shrugs again before forcing a little smile.  “So, say you’d convinced me of getting a guinea pig—how do you even tame them and everything?”

He’s quiet for a second before he bursts out in a laugh, managing to cover his mouth a few seconds too late. “Oh god—that’s a great offer but you really shouldn’t.” Marius would be amused—he never gets angry, means well in his own twisted way—but Armand facing off a ten year old is not something Daniel’d want to see. Especially because it’d mean Daniel would have to intervene and—well he’s not thinking about it. Even so, the mental image is funny to the vampire, to the point where a tear of blood escapes his eye as he clutches at his stomach from laughing.

[chullochampion-blog]

Craig looked rather relieved that the subject of the giant killer guinea pigs had been dropped - his posture had relaxed just a little more as he glanced up at the man, though he had the nagging feeling Dan wanted to ask a little more about them. He couldn’t really blame him - it would have been interesting if he hadn’t been part of the prophecy that got rid of them.

“Yeah... it’s always a really good feeling.” Craig’s smile was wistful as his fingers twitched, as if running them through an imaginary guinea pig’s fur. “Stripe is one of my best friends. He’s always been there for me no matter what, and I know he’ll cheer me up whenever I come home sad. It’s nice to have someone like that in your life, right?”

The chuckle wasn’t very reassuring to the ten year old, but otherwise he cocked his head to the side, waiting for his answer. Once he got it, however, Craig gave no less than three seconds of processing it before flipping him off and saying, “I’ll kick their ass if you want me to.” He’d do it. He really would - but it’d be less reckless than if anyone from Kyle’s group of friends tried to kick someone’s ass.

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“I…don’t know.” He’s genuinely stumped for a moment. Daniel hails from a species that is ridiculous by nature. Explaining the vampiric origin makes him cringe, sometimes, because while caught up in it he was in love with the mystery, with the allure of it, thirty years after date he realises that yeah. It’s weird and messed up. But giant killer guinea pigs? Yeah, that goes beyond him. “Okay,” he says, for the kid’s sake, but it’s clear he’s still really curious about this.

He smiles. “Hadn’t heard of it, but it sounds cute. It’s nice to know somebody’s happy to see you.” Maybe he should get a guinea pig. Daniel’s not often greeted with any kind of happiness—Marius excluded, but even then Daniel’s keenly aware that the older vampire simply likes taking care of him. “You really love your guinea pig, huh?”

His chuckle is vaguely grim. Keeping up appearances is all he did—nowadays. Only hidden away in his own home, internet turned off, could he have any semblance of just being himself. “I guess,” he says, and he doesn’t have much else to say that wouldn’t break the dam. The vampire figures he should just shut up. He looks thoughtful as he considers the words—delirious, is one of the descriptors he’s gotten a lot. Mad. Idiotic. He shrugs. “Dunno. I guess sensible is a word you could use,” he admits, “but there’s a lot of people who’d disagree with you.”

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“Do giant killer guinea pigs count as wild guinea pigs?” Craig wondered out loud, before shrugging, shaking his head firmly at the thought, eyes shutting tightly. He hated remembering the Peru incident - he lost a hundred dollars to those assholes, goddammit -, but it was kind of hard to forget when you could still shoot sparks out of your eyes, even after the incident. “Ugh... never mind. Pretend I didn’t ask that.”

At the next question, Craig opened his eyes, and he glanced up at Dan. “Popcorning’s when guinea pigs run around, jump in the air, and do it over and over again. It means they’re super happy. That’s how I know Stripe likes being walked.” Craig smiled again at remembering his guinea pig. Stripe was such a good pet. “It’s always really heartwarming to see them popcorn because you know they’re happy enough to do that when they see you...”

“... Yeah, I guess that’s true. But still, it’s nice if you’re keeping up appearances, or... something.” Craig looked out towards the window again, wondering if his little sister Ruby had let Stripe out again before bed. If he gets lost I swear to God... “... What would you use then, if not sensible? You make more sense than all the adults in South Park combined.” He turned back to the man, an eyebrow raised, as if daring him to think of a much more appropriate word.

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“Do they? Didn’t know that. I never had guinea pigs before.” He’s had a relative who had a pet, maybe, if he remembers correctly, but that was about it. His family couldn’t be bothered and his lifestyle had never suited it. “Makes sense, I guess. They probably get a lot more exercise in the wild.” He pauses. “If wild guinea pigs are a thing.” He realises he doesn’t actually know. The vampire frowns, head tilted for a second. “What’s popcorning?”

He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Nobody’s ever as they seem, kid. Just because I look like I’ve got my shit in order doesn’t mean I actually have.” With a bit of money and a bit of blood Daniel can make himself seem like any other functioning member of society—but that doesn’t account for the nights spent hidden away in his apartment, staring up at the ceiling, or the lonely evening spent wandering familiar places like a worn out ghost.

“Sensible’s not the word I’d use, but I’m gonna take it as a compliment anyway.” He grins playfully. Most of the time he’s getting ‘really?’s and ‘oh Daniel’s and what not—he’s the coven’s equivalent of a well-meaning idiot. And the well-meaning idiot can tell that Dan doesn’t sit well in the kid’s mouth. He’d love to give his actual name, but he doesn’t want to risk anything. He might’ve given away too much already: is worried about writing something on South Park and giving himself away now as it is.

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Craig’s face cleared, his mouth pursing as he let out an “Oh,”’ at the definition. Idly he recalled his former teacher having used it before while talking shit about the government, and at the memory, a snicker involuntarily made its way past his lips, though he didn’t really do anything to cover it up afterwards. “That makes sense.”

“It should be a thing people with guinea pigs do,” Craig argued. “How else are they going to get any exercise and fresh air? Guinea pigs like Stripe shouldn’t be confined to just their cages; they need to walk just as much as cats and dogs do.” With a huff, the boy sulked, “People look at me weird when I do it, but I don’t care. Stripe likes it, I know he does; he always popcorns when we get back home after his walks.”

At his words, Craig looked doubtful. “You don’t seem like a mess. You look like you’ve got everything in order, anyway. Maybe. I dunno.” He looked back at the window. Just a little more, and the long road to South Park would be over. “I think it’d be cool if more adults were sensible like you though, Dan.” Saying his name felt foreign, and initially Craig had a biting feeling that made him feel queasy, not referring to the adult properly.

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Oops. Probably too big a word for a ten-year-old. “It’s when people try to fix a neighbourhood,” he explains quickly. “It’s not always good though.” Daniel makes a metal note to hang out with some younger and then immediately scratches that idea. Kids are giving him a headache online already—why would he do this to himself? “Hm, let’s hope things stay nice and boring then.”

The vampire can’t help but smile—his world is death and decay and a bit of inherent hopelessness. So to hear a kid talk about just how much he loves his pet is…refreshing. There’s still the green eyed monster of jealousy, the bitterness lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, but he tries to ignore it. “You walk your guinea pig? That’s something people do?” He genuinely didn’t know that. “He…he seems like a good pet.”

Daniel can’t help but laugh like he’s just been told a particularly good joke. “If the whole world was like me then it’d be a goddamn mess.” After all, what is he really? Daniel knew his flaws –cowardice, prone to addiction, mental drama from here ‘till the moon, and those are only a choice selection of them. He doesn’t wish himself on anyone else.

He nods eagerly a few times, thinking himself safe. “Yeah. No need to call me sir—makes me feel old. Like I need to check for wrinkles and grey hairs.” And when he grins now, it’s genuine, because that’s a fear that he won’t have to face anymore. Even now, nearing thirty-one years, it still sends a spark of relief through his body.

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Craig made a face at the word ‘gentrification’, trying to remember who used it and in what context before replying. “I know change is inevitable, but as long as it doesn’t change what I know too drastically, I don’t think I care about it happening.” His lip curled as he added petulantly, “As long as it stays generally nice and boring, that’s okay, I guess.”

“You want me to talk about Stripe?” Craig literally lit up at the prospect, an image of his beloved heart popping into his mind: a mostly brownish-orange guinea pig, with bands of white on its body. The image makes the ten year old smile, and, with the adult’s permission, began to ramble a bit. “Stripe’s the best guinea pig in the world. I take him for walks before and after school and he’s really good at running. I bet he’s as fast as Marsh’s dog if he tried to race it. He likes it when I read to him about constellations and galaxies, and he always stays in my room if he’s somehow let out of his cage without my permission by one of my friends.” He tugged on a chullo flap, still smiling. “He makes me sooooo happy.”

Craig nodded. “You gotta work to get anywhere. Like how I have to work to get out of South Park when I can. It’s the kind of rut I wouldn’t wish on anybody.” He interlaced his fingers with each other and rested his hands on his lap. “But yeah, you still got really lucky. If everyone was like you, we’d probably have next to no problems with our lives and we wouldn’t be so pissy all the time because of shitty but high paying jobs.”

“...” Craig tested his name on his tongue. “Dan. Danny. It sounds so weird if I don’t say sir before Dan. Are you sure I can do that?”

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“You never know. Maybe someone comes along and sees potential and gentrifies the whole place.” He pauses for a second, shrugging with one shoulder. “Not that that’s always a good thing, but you know…change is change. Can’t stop it. Delay it, maybe, but never stop it.” Why’s he trying to spew wisdom and somebody a sixth of his age? He’s been hanging around Marius for too long, the scholar-vampire’s habits rubbing off on him, somehow. Daniel’s not usually the one preaching—he’s the one listening.

“Guinea pig?” Daniel tries not to peek into the kid’s head, truly—but there’s such a burst of love there that he can kind of sense it anyway. Nice for him, Daniel thinks. He wishes he still had that capability to care, something so nice and pure. He’s old and bitter now, too many marks on his heart. He swallows that bitterness and says instead; “Tell me about your guinea pig?”

“I just got lucky with my job.” The vampire can’t help but let out a little laugh. He says freelance because he isn’t really employed. He’s got a journalism degree alright—but he’s doing this for shits and giggles. With the heaps on money somewhere on his bank accounts, Daniel has no need to do anything for money.  “I’m sure that with your determination you’ll get there. Just gotta work for it, but really—what’s there in life you don’t have to work for?”

Daniel doesn’t need to read minds to know that the kid thinks he’s bullshitting him—and he’s right. Were he human, his mouth would’ve gone dry at this point. Here’s the thing: after spending so long with mindreaders, Daniel’s lost his ability to lie. While try when there’s a vampire that peeks into your mind anyway? He takes a second, probably a second too long, to answer the question. 

“Dan. Danny—one of those.” It’s been ages since he’s introduced himself by Danny Molloy. ‘Danny’ had gone out of the window once he met Armand– vampires don’t know how to do nicknames below three words to save their unlives, let alone shortening names.

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“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Craig replied almost bitterly, thinking of Eric Cartman yet again. It was amazing how he even managed to get on his nerves, and he usually didn’t give a fuck. “For the better for me is nice and boring, ninety nine percent of the time, and that’s not happening. Ever. It’s just how it is.” Still, he huffed, and rocked his feet back and forth again. “But yeah, I guess I should just see for myself if it ever changes, huh?”

At the older man’s grimace, Craig’s laugh is short. “Ehhhh. Like I said, we got better. Mostly.” He blew away a lock of hair from his face. “I still give less fucks than an average person, but I now give a fuck about something besides space and my guinea pig.” At the mention of his pet, Craig grins in an almost goofy fashion. Stripe was such a good guinea pig; Craig loved Stripe like his own child. Stripe was one of the few things that still brought a smile to his face no matter what.

“My dad always says get a job for the money if you can’t get a job doing what you want and for the money...” Craig hummed, tilting his head to the side, the left flap of his chullo brushing his shoulder. “And it sounds like you really like doing your job, so that’s cool. I want to get a job as an astronaut or a racecar driver when I grow up because I like space and Red Racer lots... maybe a guinea pig doctor.”

Idly, he listened to the adult’s response, and he nodded. “My friend told me royalty has either no time or too much free time. There is no in between. And maybe?” Craig gives him a look that clearly says ‘bullshit’, but he dismisses it for the moment, instead replying, “Mom taught me manners, so I have to, even if I don’t like it.” Beat. “If I can’t call you sir, what do I call you, then?”

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Eight years still isn’t really anything to him anymore. But Daniel tries to do this fun thing called trying to understand somebody else’s situation and yeah, maybe eight years is long for somebody’s who’s ten. “Well,” he says with a shrug, “maybe South Park’ll change for the better in those eight years. Who knows?” He follows the kid’s glance outside, preternatural eyes picking up all kinds of details even at the speed the bus is going. Daniel forces himself to look away before he gets caught up in it.

The vampire grimaces briefly. “Sounds like a hassle.” Did his family have a longstanding problem with slow spirals into madness and depression? He can’t quite remember—doesn’t even remember his own mother’s face, and he doesn’t feel guilty about it. It wasn’t that they were on bad terms—they just weren’t really close. And then he lost contact, because he died, because he was being chased by a short, auburn vampire, because. “I’m sorry to hear,” he offers awkwardly after a moment, not quite sure what to say.

“I don’t know—is it cool when it’s just a job?” Not that he has any qualms about doing the job. It gets him back into the world after twenty years of isolation, of madness. (And now he’s screwing it up by outing himself as vampire however he goes. Marius would be so proud, wouldn’t he?) “I guess with the introduction of smartphones it’s easier for them to blog on the go? But they are online a lot of the time for people supposed to rule countries.” Daniel licks his lip, a little nervously, before shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe? And you don’t have to call me sir. Makes me feel old.”

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“Eight years in South Park is still a long time...” Craig intoned, still not too keen on the idea. “But I guess with my friends still hanging around to keep me sane... it wouldn’t be too bad. I just hope nothing really fucking crazy happens agai- oh, what am I saying, South Park is literally the worst.” As if giving up, he slumped back on his seat, glancing out the window again. Not too far now.

Craig glanced down at his hands. “... It might be a running trend in our family, actually, but we’ve gotten better. Mostly.” A half-truth; his mother and father certainly weren’t as apathetic as he was around a year ago. He had developed it after hanging around Cartman and the other three and it had magnified during the Peru incident.

“Oh. Still, it’s really cool you have two.” For a moment, Craig almost swore he could smell the metallic tang of blood - he remembered the smell, beating up a friend before you became friends did things to you - , but he dismissed it as one of the mixed scents in the bus. He didn’t have too strong of a sense of smell, anyway. “It’s really weird. Aren’t they supposed to be busy ruling kingdoms or something? And the vampires- wait,” His nose scrunched up. “No, the vampires by this point are normal. I’ve seen enough shit to think it’s normal. Have you encountered any of them, sir?”

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“Eight year’s nothing. You think that’s long now, but they’ll fly by before you know.” After all, Daniel somehow managed to look up and notice that on, twenty years had flown by, no big deal. He doesn’t stop to consider that his wrecked sense of time might have something to do with being a vampire or spiralling into madness. “You seem like a close-knit bunch. I’m sure that even if you guys won’t be able to stay together you’ll still keep in contact.” Oh jealousy, you green eyed monster lurking in the back of Daniel’s mind. If only he and his coven were that close, instead of fractured and spread all over the corners of the earth.

“Definitely an improvement,” he agreed. “Apathy’s one of the worst things.” He can’t believe he’s having this conversation with a ten-year-old on a bus taking him out of the city. But Daniel’s familiar with the apathy, is familiar with all kinds of negative experiences. The part of him that’s still twenty-year old and has some sort of sympathy for other beings beyond his limited circle aches a little for this kid, ten years and already familiar with apathy.

“I’m not really­ using the second one, I guess.” Daniel prays to whatever deity’s and their braindead queen of the damned that he isn’t sweating blood. God, that’d give him away. He scratches the back of his neck and it comes away dry. Alright, keep calm. (Why don’t they make blood-proof deodorant?) “Huh,” he hums vaguely. “Royalty and vampires. Yeah, I can see why your mom wouldn’t like that, kid. Wow, who would’ve guessed royalty would have the time to keep up blogs, huh?” Who would’ve guessed Daniel would bump into this kid and face vampire accusations tonight.

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“I’m ten,” Craig said after a moment’s pause. “That’s like...” He counted on his fingers for a few moments before continuing. “Eight more years, right? That’s still a really long time, and I hear college is hell in a basket.” He tugged on his chullo’s flaps a little as he thought about it. “Mmm, yeah, I hope so. I just hope none of them leave South Park without me if ever though. I’m hitching a ride out of there if I have to.” He’d always thought about it - him and his friends, out of South Park, even if it’s probably just Denver, just away from South Park, attending a decent college, being roommates, having fun, being young adults. It seemed like a cool idea, and he knew Token’s funds would help them at least a little if ever.

Craig laughed this time. “I used to get up all the time for the simple reason of wanting to flip off someone. I mean, I still do, but... now it’s not just apathy, apathy, blah blah blah. Still kind of apathetic, but... not as much now. That’s better, right?” Pause. “... Hunger too.”

“Wow, you’re keeping up with two? That’s way too much effort. I kind of like keeping things nice and simple, so just one blog’s enough for me.” Confusion flitted across his face at the sight of the adult’s frown, and mentally, he wonders if he said something wrong, before he continues. “Yeah, it’s pretty great. I get to talk with lots of other people that I normally wouldn’t talk to unless they’re like from South Park too. Royalty, vampires, and some other kids like me. Mom would probably kick my ass if she found out I was talking to people like queens and vampires like a little shit though.”

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“At the moment,” Daniel repeats meaningfully. “Doesn’t mean you can’t get out as soon as possible. If I’m hearing this right, you’re already planning on it. You’re what? Eleven, twelve? Just a few more years and you can go to college, or something. And until then you’ve got your friends and everything.” The vampire suddenly realises what he’s doing and feels a bit awkward for it. He’s no wise figure with life lessons—he has no business peptalking a kid. Especially because he can feel the slightest stirrings of jealousy. He hasn’t had a steady home and community in what—forty years now?

“I probably shouldn’t be encouraging this or something but—good for you.” He pauses and considers his words before shrugging. Oh what the hell. “Everyone’s always talking about learning to forgive, but sometimes, the only thing getting me out of bed is pure spite.” A grin brightens his face a moment later. “Though mostly it’s just because I’m bored or hungry. Usually bored.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever looked up that specific term.” He chuckles before shrugging with a sole shoulder. “Two actually. One personal blog and one I’m trying to get some more articles on. Writing’s been slow, though.” His brows crease into a frown as it hits him and oh fuck. He’s got a vague suspicion about this whole thing and he’s really not feeling being hit with vampire accusations. Even if they’re true. “Sounds nice. The whole government internet thing is really working out, huh?” He wishes he could swallow his words and bite his tongue off, and how does he always end up in these kind of situations?

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“I’ve always wanted to leave South Park because it’s literally one of the worst, if not the worst,” Craig twiddled his thumbs as he glanced out the window. The rain was still pouring, but he was beginning to recognize the surroundings more now that the bus was going through familiar territory. It was still quite a ways from South Park, but by this point Craig could recognize the neighboring areas around it and the road leading to it. “But at the moment, it’s all I’ve got.”

“Hah, okay,” Craig chuckles, looking up at the man with respect in his gaze. He liked him, he decided - he was pretty cool and not like the adults in South Park. “I actually decided to hate those who made me hate my boyfriend first after that, so there’s that. Well, actually I just hate one of them - I dislike the other three.” He and Kyle were friends now, after all, and he treated Stan and Kenny with some form of respect. Cartman? Fuck no.

The chullo wearing boy blinked at his words, then rolled his eyes. “If you looked up ‘redneck mountain town’ at least once in your life that’s probably the reason why it’s familia- you run a blog?” This garnered the child’s attention, and he faced the adult fully, or as fully as he could get in a bus seat. “That’s pretty neato; you’d probably really love seeing the weird shit in our town. My friend and I run blogs too, but I mostly just blog about space and he blogs book quotes and stuff.”

bus 15 | open

Vampire ears pick up on the string of mumbling the same time a vampire mind catches up on a string of thought before he forces himself to real back. Daniel doesn’t want to intrude upon anyone’s mind, least of all a kid’s. He mournfully wishes he didn’t have a capability of mindreading far beyond his age. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Daniel admits. “At least you know what you’ve got.”

He makes the kid smile, and Daniel thinks good job to himself. He may be a vampire who sucks (pun not intended) at pretending to be a human, but at least he can make a kid smile. “That’s a nice thought,” he says with a nod. “And for future reference, just say fuck it when people try to decide who you should hate.” He thinks there’s something sweet about the way the kid talks about his boyfriend. There’s something sweet about all of it, completely opposite of Daniel’s own love life.

“South Park, huh? Sounds familiar.” His face twists into something thoughtful as he tries to figure out where he’s heard the name before. When one spends a lot of time out his own head, either purposefully or not, memories and things to remember tend to get meddled. “Definitely sounds like a place to check out.” He grins. “Weird shit is kind of up my alley. I run this blog, Creatures of Telaortus, just to write about weird stuff happening all over the country.”

[chullochampion-blog]

“Do do do do do, do do do do do, do it healthy...” Craig mumbled, almost as an afterthought, remembering the series of videos Clyde had insisted their group of friends marathon at 1 in the morning in Token’s movie room. It had scared the literal shit out of Tweek and Craig had flipped Clyde over for it. “Not like I eat a lot of those organics, anyway. In the end we’re still kind of a redneck mountain town who follows its own rules, so fuck it.”

At his comment, Craig cannot stop the small smile that crosses his face, the typical look of joy whenever a child gets praised crossing his face for the shortest of moments before it faded back into deadpan right again. “I like to think that I’m making up for the time we beat each other up because some kids convinced us we hated each other in the third grade... so that’s good to hear. He’s... really cool. And really nice.”

“... A freelance journalist looking for a story?” Craig pondered this, pulling on one of the flaps of his chullo for a minute while thinking. “Well, you could always check out my town, South Park if you wanted some weird stuff? It’s got so much weird shit in it that I think we’re the centerpoint of weirdness.” He held out a hand, and began counting occurrences. “We once had giant killer guinea pigs come through, you know? And... and a giant robot dinosaur thing that looked like Barbra Streisand.”

bus 15 | open

“Guess that works as well. I mean, something is happening if all those people show up in your town for Whole Foods. And at least it means job opportunities and all that.” Daniel shrugs. “More organic doesn’t always mean good, though. Have you ever seen that thing where one of the products says ‘do not eat too many of these, might cause cyanide poisoning’? Now I’m not a biologist, but I’m pretty sure that means it isn’t all that healthy.”

The vampire grins at the middle finger. He can tell it’s a thoughtless habit, considering he’s done it plenty of times too. There’s something careless about it. “Yeah, I feel you about that. This bag’s fraying on the insides so I really should replace it because I’ve lost my wallet in there several times, but…” He trails off with another shrug. It’s not like he doesn’t have the money to replace his bags—has more money than he knows what to do with—but Daniel prefers to have a standard bag with standard equipment. He doesn’t need anything fancy. (He says, wearing brand clothes and a expensive watch.)

“Huh.” The vampire pauses, considers, considers some more and hums. Perhaps that is a good basis for a relationship—a friendship first. Maybe something to keep in mind. Daniel’s previous relationship wasn’t built on friendship—sometimes, Daniel wonders if he’d even trusted him.  Realising he’s drifting off into his own mind, Daniel says; “I think that’s nice. You’re a good friend.” He chuckles and shakes his head. He can see where the kid gets the impression from, but he’s wrong. “I’m going to work. Sorta. I’m a freelance journalist. I’m just here looking for my next story.”

[chullochampion-blog]

“More like they want to prove we’re not just a redneck mountain town...” Craig mumbled, almost kicking the seat in front of him as he swung his legs further and back. It was ridiculous, really, the lengths his town went to prove they were anything but what they were, and while in his opinion it only solidified the fact, adults in South Park were stupid enough to be convinced that the addition of Whole Foods would change the town for the better. “Sure, I guess it’s more organic. But my friend Token has all the junk food in his mansion... so there’s not much difference.”

At his comment, Craig flipped him the bird, but this time it was more out of habit than anything, not really meaning anything offensive with it. It still looked like he was serious, but his words held a different meaning. “The bags I have are usually really worn out because I refuse to change them out until I literally can’t use them, so my notebooks get really soaked most of the time, so yeah, I feel you.”

“... I think it’s considered being a good friend first, since he was one of my best friends first...” Craig considered this, and nodded, as if to affirm his own statement. Yes, that was it; good friends were concerned and didn’t want their best friends to go bald with worry. The ten year old’s mouth curled up in an almost wistful smile before it faded back into his usual deadpan look, looking up at his seatmate. “Are you going home too? You look like you came from work or something, just like my dad.”

bus 15 | open

“People are that eager to get their healthy food, huh? Give me a burger any day, if you ask me.” That he still has the ability to eat burgers, but that was beside the point. He has lived through a brief period where his maker-lover Armand was obsessed with making Daniel eat healthy, potentially countering the incredible damage the nightly consumption of alcohol had done to his body. In retaliation, Daniel had started eating unhealthier. Life threatening passive-aggressiveness had been the norm in those nights.

Daniel flashes the kid a grin, something amused but close-lipped lest he flashes his fangs. Good, no kids had been corrupted here tonight. “You kiss your mom with that mouth?” he teases. The vampire glances at the staring people, raising an eyebrow before he diverts his attention back to the kid. “Honestly though. I don’t mind getting wet, but I hate having to rummage through a wet bag.”

“Probably a good idea to go home then. Wouldn’t want a thing like that to happen. I’m pretty sure that’s considered being a bad boyfriend or something.” For a moment Daniel considers asking if the boy isn’t perhaps a little young for a boyfriend, but who is he to judge? Daniel Molloy, mess extraordinaire, who hasn’t had a healthy relationship since he was twenty and didn’t know anything about vampires. Yeah.

[chullochampion-blog]

Craig’s eyebrows rose at the state of Daniel’s clothes as he took a seat. His gaze momentarily flickered to the umbrella he jammed in between the window and his seat so that it didn’t fall before he shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. Lots of people. I never saw this much people in my town around a year ago, but ever since a Whole Foods got built there, there’s more strangers.”

“...” His gaze had traveled to the window again for only a split second before he caught the beginnings of ‘fuck’ on the man’s lips, and instantly his head whirled around, only for a snicker to escape him at the older male’s last minute correction. “Yeah. Fuck the weather.” He rocked his feet back and forth, and then, after some thinking, flipped the bird at the raindrops hitting the window, the people in the seat across from him staring, but he didn’t mind.

He settled back down before anyone could comment, and gave him a sideways look, tilting his head to the side. “I’m going home. My mom wants me home soon and if I don’t get home soon, my boyfriend’s going to probably go bald pulling his hair out.” He wasn’t really lying; Tweek was dangerous whenever he was left alone to worry about things like underpants and Craig. It made Craig smile to see that he was improving from the Tweek he used to be, but he still had to make sure he helped in his recovery process.

bus 15 | open

“Thanks, man.” Daniel flashes the kid a smile and takes the seat. He runs a hand through his hair and wipes the drops off his glasses. Even though his clothes are soaked, the vampire himself isn’t cold. Cold isn’t a thing that happens to vampire because temperature isn’t a thing that happens to vampires. “It’s kinda busy tonight.”

He stretches his long legs ahead of him, or at the very least, for as much as he can in the cramped bus seats. Crosses them at the ankles and settles in for the ride. For all his riches, Daniel often forgets he can just call someone to pick him up. And he prefers it this way—he enjoys the interactions required on public transport.

“F—screw the weather, huh?” he starts. Daniel might be a literal monster, come straight from the pages of gothic horror, but he’s also lived with enough saintly literal monsters that he figures he’d get an earful about cursing around kids. But hey, at least he’s interacting with people. Someone give this immortal a trophy. “Seems like everyone’s chosen to catch the bus. You heading somewhere?”

[chullochampion-blog]

Craig borderline disliked bus rides, if anyone asked him about it. It wasn’t particularly a fun way to travel if you were alone, but it was usually airconditioned, and at least you were dry and not somewhere just standing around waiting for a cab that would probably never come. He would have taken a cab, but his mother had explicitly warned him not to ride one in case the driver was some weirdo who wouldn’t take him back to South Park. He had only sighed in response before flipping her off even though she couldn’t see it.

He had been alone for a good duration of the bus ride. There was an empty seat next to him, but nobody really deigned to sit with the surly looking ten year old in the blue chullo, so he had forced himself to stare outside the window, trying to look interested, when he felt someone pause by the empty seat. He looked up at the dripping wet man.

“...” Craig considered the seat, and shook his head. “Go ahead. Not like you’ve got any other option, anyway,” Carefully, he scrambled up his seat while clutching the one in front to look around. “... Yep. Every other seat’s empty. Might as well...” He sat back down, and looked back up at the man, almost expectantly.

bus 15 | open

It’s one of those summer nights, where the sudden downpour comes after sunset. The smell of ozone hangs in the air as earth greedily soaks up the water it’s been denied for so long. It overpowers the stench of city life, washes away blood. The streets become slick and wet, lights reflected in puddles. The air is humid with it.

Somewhere on these wet streets an immortal affects a run to catch the bus, slipping the driver a bill before shuffling further into the vehicle. The sole free seat is next to a taken seat. Cheeks still rosy from the hunt; non-prescription glasses flecked with raindrops; hair slicked to his face with water, Daniel smiles.

“Hey,” he says, “mind if I sit here?”

[chullochampion-blog]

we promise to be on our best behavior queen corrin

because it’s either that or i get my ass served

Royal supervision… 

Oh dear, seems there’s a lot to live up to–!

[chullochampion-blog]

dude dude listen have you ever heard of ‘royal supervision’

we’re at a gala, we have to be behaved; it’s a queen hosting this thing i don’t want to get my ass kicked by a queen. i’m sure your mom will let you guys go when she hears theres a queen

Aw dude, of course I wouldn’t bring him! He’d probably ruin it for everybody! And sure, maybe I could ask if Stan wanted to go!

I’d have to ask my mom though. This is pretty serious business - it’s not even in Northedge anymore, dude!