Vampire Whump

Conditioned whumpee: vampire whumper tells them they can't exist without his guidance and they don't want to, submitting their minds completely to their new creator.

Living weapon whumpee: they don't know what their new powers are but they can feel the urges and the urges don't take no for an answer. Neither does their creator.

Pet whumpee: A little less popular but still prevalent. It's not difficult to make the fledgling bride feel beneath their master because their powers are so new. They may feel even less competent than their human selves because they had a better understanding of their bodies when they were living. Thus, it may be surprisingly easy for the vampire creator to convince the bride they are an inferior being, an animal in the vampiric courts, and must behave accordingly.

Last but not least.

Whumpee turned Whumper: here's the thing, bride whumpee's powers might be new...but so is their inhuman strength. Yes, their creator may have perfected the art of vampiric attack, but their creator is weak after using vampire blood to create them. The sun and moon have shifted to welcome this fledgling vampire. It's the perfect time for the scales of power to rebalance...

~~1870s ish, 300 and some years later~~

It had been a long day. Jack had been a the pub since sundown, and had been at lessons since sunrise. She always had trouble finding the time to sleep between the two. Only one hour more before she was able to go back to her bed and get some rest. Only one more hour of shenanigans and frustrations before she could eat and sleep. Except the night hours were always the worst, and the patrons seemed to be doing everything in their power to make it as excruciating as possible. 

It was a decent place, as the main pub for the whole town. Which of course was only about 300 or so people but, it made for a nice place to live, for the most part. Even still, most of the townspeople went to the neighboring towns for a pub, larger towns, more selection, or something of the sort. Which, honestly lead to a fairly nice work environment, on the whole. 

Most of the regulars never made much of a fuss, most paying on time. Just a nice place with a roof to get a drink and meal. Then there were the passer-bys, the people just traveling through. Always enough of them to take up a few tables, but would blend in well with the regulars, not making much of a fuss, but not staying long enough to make any real impression. Then there was the troublemakers. Now, some of course were regulars. But they were the worst of the regulars. They get plastered, they get into fights, make deals that go bad inside. Not to mention how they treat the staff. 

And for some reason, in this last hour of Jack’s shift… there was an abundance of these troublemakers. Far more than there usually was, normally only about five to ten. Tonight? It was half the seating area! Every time one would finally leave, it was like they multiplied outside, and three more would walk in. It was only the knowledge of her wages being docked if she lost her patience on them that she kept restrained. The pub needed all the money it could get, things were starting to get more expensive thanks to the crown’s drama. Not to mention, it was one of the safest jobs in the area, even if it paid less. It was significantly better than the new factory jobs popping up, and she could be replaced within the hour.  She didn’t want to lose that over a rough night. 

She set down the glass she was drinking from, after taking in the rest of the state of the pub. “Ready for the next round?” The barkeep asked, as Jack got up to go back to taking and delivering orders, and got a soft nod out of her. It was a small place, and the workers all looked out for one another. Jack put her cigarette out and asked it in the bowl as she walked around the bar, tucking the remainder into her inside pocket. Luckily, this was the last call, as it was only another hour till closing time. 

Table by table, bar seat by bar seat, she went around to the patrons with her usual closing time spiel, “could I get any of you a last food or drink? Last time in going around before we start kicking people out”. the patrons generally responded better to the slight teasing about the time, and they were too drunk to remember that it was what she always said. 

Most of them had finished, and simply took this round as their cue to leave, but one of her regular tables was the first to take her up on it. “Bertie wanted another pint, wherever he went, and just some more bread or whatever theres extra of in the back.” John replied for the table. John was a bit of burly guy, his time was most often spent working in the mines, collecting what then got sent to the factories. He had been quite protective of Jack for most of their friendship, and he would often be their free backup security if the pub needed it, well, free as a pint is. He was basically like Jack’s big brother that she never had.

“You can just go grab some, we just pulled out a fresh batch” Jack motioned to the bar, letting John go get it himself. This was their routine most nights that she worked, but the last time she told him to get it without asking, he complained it would be disrespectful and could run the chance of ruining her job. So she takes the order, and then he fetches it. Like a dance that they had made up themselves, one that the rest of the pub respected, and found a bit entertaining. 

While he went to grab the bread from the kitchen, Jack filled up another pint for Bertie. Once they were settled, she continued on her rounds, clearing tables and taking last orders. She had about twelve left, and she had left the rowdiest bunch of the night for last, knowing they would likely be difficult. Of the remaining tables, she started with the ones she had never seen, hoping they would just go home for the night. “We’re about to close up on the kitchen and pints, any last things I can get for you?” 

Dripping with the annoyance of patrons being withheld a drink, one of them responded, “Do you happen to know why your establishment was being advertised as having off the books products? When none of you seem to know about it? Is your employer?” He finished talking, nodded, and the whole group left. 

Jack shook off the confusion as to what just happened and simply logged it in memory as one less table to circle back to. But the question stuck at the back of her mind - what the hell was he talking about ? 

She looked around to see if John’s table had witnessed that, but it didn’t seem so. Neither had the other barmaids, or anyone else in the place it seemed. At least no one had reacted as if they’d seen anything. She went back to deal with the rest of the tables, and took a mental note to ask about it after close. 

Actually pushing the thought out of her mind now, she quickened her pace, wanting to be done even more than she was moments ago. She sped through most of the remaining tables, and it wasn’t until she had only a few  left that anything else odd occurred. 

As she rounded to those last few, the pub had emptied out nearly enough to be able to hear the conversation from a few feet away. “I think it was bait. Nobody else got it, they have no idea, and we can’t even smell it. It’s not here.” This was enough to bring back her earlier interaction, but at this point she just wanted the day to be over with, so she approached the table to take their order. She asked, same as she always does, and he gave what was likely the winner for worst response she had ever gotten, and replied “Are you offering yourself as a fresh tap?” 

He said it seriously, not an ounce of joke to his voice. But she didn’t know what to make of it, so she stood there for a moment slightly confused.

That was all the table needed, as the man once again, speaking to the other three at the table, “it’s clearly not here, I seem to need to have a casual little chat with our informant.” 

Jack didn’t know what to make of any of this, and had no idea who their informant would be. 

“Well if theres nothing else I can get for you enjoy your night!” She began to walk to her last table, when another at the table said, at the perfect volume for only her to hear, “Don’t worry. We will.” 

The weirdness of the day was beginning to break Jack down, it was practically enough weird-ness for a whole month! The patrons being rowdy was far more manageable, all she really had to do was sick John on anyone who gets too out of control, and he loved to do it. But the weird just rubbed at her wrong. Something about just felt, off. 

After pausing for a moment to process, Jack realized that the last table had left during the last conversation. With her tables finished, she rushed back to the bar to talk about what had happened and start closing up.

Only a few of the others had reached the back around when she did, others still finishing up their rounds, but it was enough to ask, “Have any of you heard of anything around here with a new drink or anything like that? I’ve had the oddest of interactions with people today.” 

““I think the house down the street has a new wine for headaches, but I’m pretty sure it’s just got the medicine houses used leeches…” reported the newest hire. No one else seemed to know of anything, a few shaking their heads and the rest looking to see if anyone else knew. The ones missing were asked when they came back, but nobody seemed to know.

Their speculation was halted when Cecilia, one of the most original staff there, quickly chimed in “It’s best to just ignore that kind of thing. They almost definitely won’t be back, so leave it. 

 That certainly shut the conversation down. When she said something, you do it. Chain of command and all, but mostly due to respect. She had been around long enough that she knew the ins and out of the place, and when things went very wrong, she was the one to fix it. No stepping on Cecilia’s toes. 

And with the conversation now over, Jack finished her cleaning, collected her things, grabbed the two bread loaves allotted for her to take home, and left out the back entrance. 

Turning to walk down the alley, she reached behind a few dislodged but overall unsuspecting bricks along the building, and pulled out a dark green cloak. Quickly but routinely wrapping it into her arms so that no one could see, and continued on down the dark and musty alleyway. 

She did this every night. After all, if her mother found out she was working in a pub, she’d be furious. As far as Jack’s mother was aware, she was studying her lessons with the other students. Her mother worked hard to ensure she could have access to them, it was a very expensive thing, especially since they had to pay the increased fee. Jack was a girl after all, and that also meant she was hardly allowed to even have an opinion in her classes. This only added to her dislike of them. She took them seriously, but also refused to place her entire focus onto them, much to the dismay of her tutors, and the would be horror of her mother. 

Jack accidentally tripped on a dislodged cobblestone, getting so lost in her own thoughts she forgot for a moment where she was. Shaking off the thoughts, she continued nearing the edge of town. 

She crossed to the last alley before the river, seamlessly opened up the cloak, draped it over herself, cloaked herself under the hood. This was the riskiest part, but after doing it for two months she had her routine nearly perfected.

The air blew in such a way the cloak suctioned to her skin, which meant tonight would be an easy crossing anyways. She just had to get over the stone bridge, which wasn’t hard, as the guard always accepted the peace offering of silence for one of her bread loaves. 

She doubted the guard would tell anyone, but she wanted to be proactive about it. After that, a simply four alleyways and she would be home. 

As per usual, when she arrived at the top of the bridge, the guard was waiting, although for once he didn’t seem half asleep and bored. He looked, well, concerned. She resisted the urge to connect this to the events at work, and walked up to him.

“Busier night that usual?” She asked disarmingly while pulling out the usual loaf and outstretching it to him. 

Taking the loaf, he shook his head.“Not so much busy, we keep getting word that there may be extra bandits or something of the sort  in town. It’s all been vague hearsay. Been hearing things from the hospitals, mostly.” He didn’t seem alarmed at the matter, and sounded mostly annoyed that the issue was even happening in the first place. “Word on the street is they’ll be doubling up the guard soon anyways, so decide if you’ll want us splitting the loaf or if you wanna bring two” he joked, while gently trying to shoo her off, the joke a thin disguise of the speculative concern underneath. 

This diffused some of the worry on Jacks face, but it was clear the Guard was serious that there may be more guard up soon. “I’ll bring two loaves, there’s always at least ten at the end of the night. Thanks for the heads up though.” 

She walked down the other side of the bridge, and slipped into the damp alley. Her mind began to wander towards the ideas of what danger could be around, given all the odd experiences of the day. 

She had always felt safer in the alleys than out in the street. The street was full of just about anyone, some desperate, some wealthy enough to get away with anything. Overall a much more dangerous bargain than the alley. They were after all, particularly invested in keeping the areas calm and safe. It was their home after all.

Word was hard to come by, and housing even more so. The factories had helped in employing more people, but it destroyed many homes in the process of being built, and just as many got fired as they got hired, leaving many to find makeshift shelter in the alleyways. So long as there was people in the alleys, it was safe. It was the empty ones she had grown to be wary of. They were oft empty on purpose, for one reason or another. 

She turned into the next alley, that connected back around the other side of the river, and was stopped in her thoughts. She had only gotten a few steps in, but quickly noticed the silence. Her pace slowed, not enough to seem caught of guard, but enough to give her time to surveil her surroundings and still turn around, she noticed the alley was empty. Great. 

The air around her turned cold, and she felt as the wind went from a warm small breeze to freezing, nearly a full gust. Whether it was due to the size of the alley or other means, she did not know. The silence was deafening. An empty alley didn’t mean much but danger, and the wind certainly added to its creep factor. . 

Jack didn’t know what possessed her to have the confidence, or stupidity, to walk through the alley anyways, but she did. The other route was through the main road, or she would have to swim. She couldn’t take the main road, as she was meant to be coming from the other direction and one of her mother, or her coworkers, may see her. But she wasn’t thinking about that. She just, kept walking. 

As she reached just past what seemed like halfway through the alley, she noticed on the edge of the wall was a dripping into a small dark and shiny pool of liquid. Given that there was no one around, Jack assumed the threat had happened earlier, and she was just the first to go back through. With no one in the alley, it’s not like it was going to be cleaned up any time soon.

Then she heard a loud clang behind her, and her heart nearly stopped. Forcing herself to remain composed, as it was her best, or, only, chance of survival, she calmly but quickly turned to see where the noise came from, after giving the area in front of her the quickest scan she to ensure it came from behind and wasn’t an ambush. As she turned, she saw two figures towards the entrance of the alley, that she had just come from, fighting. 

A standard drunken fight. They had come from the alley intersection. Entirely separate to anything happening in the one she currently inhabited and uninterested in her. 

Feeling her heart slowly go back to normal, realizing there was not an imminent threat, she turned back to head the rest of the way out of the alley. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the walk home was uneventful, and Jack was incredibly grateful for it. Arriving at home looking like she had seen a ghost would certainly cause her mother to ask questions that she wouldn’t be able to answer, and it gave her time to fully regain her composure. 

Her street was one of the only remaining areas in the town that hadn’t been fully impacted by the new construction of factories across it. Since the town was closer to the city, they were getting more factories than the neighboring towns. When people left the factories all they did was sleep, to prepare for their next shift, it was practically all they had time for. 

After all, those that came to work tired often left with missing limbs, hair, clothes, sometimes they didn’t even leave. Like her little brother. Being so tired that you couldn’t work is the best way to ensure that you would be replaced before your next shift, especially with how many children were always lining up for jobs. There was always a small child ready to replace you, and they could do it better. They were smaller. Easier with the intricate mechanics. But they also got hurt more. The paper stopped reporting how many little ones died in the factories within a week of them opening. Just took too much ink, too expensive. 

Since the factory had been built, more carriages had been going through the town, which would break the cobblestone roads faster than they could be fixed. Jack’s street was only saved due to the street being too small.The carriages didn’t fit. It only took three getting stuck for the word to be put out to not travel by the road, even though it connected directly. It was sheer luck. And it was the only reason the houses were still there. It was far cheaper to only have to build, not rebuild a road in the process. 

Her house was the last on a row of eight houses, except hers was technically the last two - about a decade ago her mother and the neighbor combined their homes. By connecting, they were able to put a shop downstairs. Nothing fancy, but it provided most of the basic goods for the street, and the girls help out with the tailoring and mending service they run out of the back corner. The combination was essential to their keeping the houses. When Jacks father died, her mother wouldn’t have been able to keep the house, and this ensured stable housing and extra money for both families. 

It ended up working out quite well, luckily Jack and the neighbors daughter had always gotten along. They shared the small room, with the adults sleeping in the other two rooms. Where the fourth bedroom would’ve been was turned into the hallway during the combination, and was too small to have added a room. 

It was about the right size for a hypothetical indoor bathroom though, and Demetrius (the neighbor), was determined to eventually have one, except for the fact that even the royals were only just getting them installed. They would never afford it. Still, he dreamed, so they weren’t allowed to use the small corner for much else but storage. 

a writing exercise i did a while back

The street light outside was flickering again as a light drizzle began but Essie hardly noticed. She was trying her hardest to get through the closing tasks at Forevermore, the rare and used bookstore she worked at after graduating university. She thought it’d be a good step. Besides, her major in classic literature had her surrounded with books and she decided that’s where she wanted to stay.

But staying meant not leaving and not leaving meant giving up her dreams to be comfortable. She didn’t want to be comfortable. Essie wanted to travel the world, go to the places that her classic stories told about, and finally have enough inspiration to finish her own novel. Maybe it was an impulsive decision but Essie thought of it as destiny. In two days from now, she’d be on a plane to Transylvania. She gripped hard on the broom she was holding and pushed it close to her chest in happiness. She couldn’t believe she, of all people, would be going to the land of vampires. The print on her beloved ‘TRUE LOVE NEVER DIES’ shirt that had Dracula and his brides displayed across it, crinkled underneath her touch. She couldn’t help but let out a sequel of joy and jump around. She was finally living.

The door bell of the shop rang out its high pitched sound. Essie pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the time, 8:55 p.m. Damn I should’ve locked the door, she thought. Then absentmindedly placed the broom against a wall and made her way to tell the customer to get out. She wasn’t going to be late for the beginning of her victory tour. The first stop was at her and her friend’s favorite bar, Lucky Jack’s.

Essie rounded the long hallway with a sudden stop. A sopping wet man, with a coat so black he blended in with the shadows, was scouring the rare books section. His hands flew over the books with a vigor that Essie had only witnessed when a college student was running late to class. His unnatural speed scared her a little. 

“No, no, no,” the man murmured as his hands brushed past each text.

“Excuse me, but we close in five minutes. Is there anything I can help you with before I lock up?” This was Essie’s polite way of saying “let me help you or get the hell out of here.”

“The Moronocti. Where is it? The shipment said it’d arrive here today.” Essie looked at the man confused. She never heard of a ‘Moronocti’ in all of her studies. Nor did she remember anyone ordering such a book.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Essie said, keeping her body glued to the farthest wall away from him. The energy that radiated off his person felt something like fear, but also want. 

She remembered, “But we did have a shipment of rare books come in late today.”

“Yes, yes! Check it.” She finally saw his face now. His jet black hair was glued to his forehead from the rain occurring outside but made him all the more alluring. His gorgeous skin, perfectly set eyes, and marble carved features made Essie think she was looking at an example of perfect facial symmetry. The scent of musk and fresh water wafted over to her so strongly she was confused as to why she’d never smelled it before.

She shook her head, remembering she needed to be at Lucky’s by now, sipping her strawberry daiquiri with joyful bliss. She scoured at the stranger then stomped off down the hall. Leaving him in the front room.

The largest shipment of books they’d ever received sat at the back of the office. It came in a wood crate that took Essie way too long to pry open. I don’t know why I didn’t tell that asshole to come back tomorrow, she thought as the crate finally cracked. She looked at her phone again, 9:20 p.m. Whatever this book is worth, that asshole is paying double.

Essie dug through the packing materials pulling out every book but this mysterious, ‘Moronocti’.

“Did you find it?” The voice startled her and caused her body to pulse forward with fear and flung her over the crate. She landed like a ragdoll on top of something incredibly hard.

“Just did,” Essie bit back and angrily climbed out of the box. The temperature in her body had risen a million degrees and her fuse was about to blow. She looked the stranger in the face again, glowering at him this time, then reached into the box to grab the book.

Her hands grasped a book so cold and heavy she was sure it was made of stone. She struggled to pull the book out and sat it on the edge of the crate, “I’ll meet you at the front to–”

“No,” she heard the click of the safety release before she saw the gun. Essie’s blood ran cold and her grip on the book tightened. If only this damn thing wasn’t so heavy, I could use it as a weapon, she thought. The man took a step closer and bore his teeth. The sharp points of his canines glinted unnaturally in the little light that flooded in from the hall. His scent encapsulated her, sending her eyelids to flutter.

1536. Somewhere in North West England, half a days walk from the coast. 

A castle once belonging to a long dead noble of forgotten titles and names, lost in the crossover of  monarchy and power, now belonging to a pair of siblings. 

It wasn’t a fully operational castle by any means, but there was enough of them to keep it mostly running. Some worked in the gardens, some the kitchens, some the armory, some preferred cleaning duty. Between the siblings and their pupils, they managed to take care of themselves.

Now, they didn’t actually need the food. It was more-so done as a rehabilitation activity. You see, it was essentially a hospital. The siblings would take daily trips down to the local morgues, and see if any of the dead would rise. Those that would, would find a home here. It taught them how to feel resourcefully, without giving into the emotions of the circumstance. It was a way to save those with untimely and tragic ends. And it lightened up the load of the morgue, and with plague or war upon war or plague they took that whenever they could. 

This, over time, turned into a whole school. They had started it up a few times, having to move. They got caught a few times. But they had always managed to rebuild it. After all, prior to finding this place, they had been living out of much smaller places. Only time for one or two pupils at a time. Here, they were able to save far more people than that. And they were able to pick up those that the less, considerate, of their kind left behind, and take care of them as well. 

Most of the others thought the siblings were slightly insane for what they were doing, always being met with frustrations or limitations about being solitary and avoiding packs - but they never believed it. After all, they hadn’t even had a bad egg yet. Of all their pupils, 26 of which had already left to go help elsewhere or just, go live, none had rejected it. All were, of their own words, better for it. 

At least it had been that way. It seems one of the pupils was determined to prove the opposite of the siblings. That no matter what they did - the vampire is a violent, cruel, and isolated creature. One meant to destroy humanity. No matter what they did. He refused the possibility of anything else.

And aside from the month being difficult due to the new prospect of how to handle a bad egg, it had been a normal day. The hunters brought back a new pupil, as well as enough animals for a few days of blood. The blood was prepped and stored, the kitchens had just gotten hold of a new fruit and made a pie. 

Until the sun set. And a haze fell in the air. Allowing the faintest of lights in the distance to appear. Lights that were not usually visible - they were miles from any others. Someone was specifically looking for them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain pattered upon the window, a woman sitting at a desk, only lit by the glow of a candle as she scribbled away in a journal. Through the window something flickers in the distance. gone by the time she looks up. A knock at the door startles her, bit only enough to elicit a small jump. And them she returned to her writing. 

“I think it’s just about time” the voice behind her said, it was dark and grumbly filled with urgent sense of calm. 

She ignored him, not pausing in her writing. Getting as much written down as possible. 

“Lenore please. The time to leave is closing.” He continued, the calm disappearing with each additional moment. 

She paused her writing for a moment, looking straight out the window. Multiple flickers now in the distance. Hardly above her breath, but just enough for him to hear, she softly began.“There is nothing we can do.” She paused, but unfinished, as she slowly stood up to turn and face him. “One of our own has brought this upon us. I heard him before he left this morning. There is no where we could go. Either we let them go, untrained and unprepared, to be unleashed upon humanity like an invasive plague, or we stay. And get them all killed anyways. There were no options form the moment he decided to go to the crown.” With that, she picked up her books, and there had been many, and tried to walk past and out the door. 

“You knew all of this HOURS ago and told none of us? You didn’t think that might be important information? Give us lead time? Time to make any choices?” He was restraining a yell, so as not to worry the students, but it was nearly impossible, and he was beginning to think worrying them might be the best course of action. 

She locked eyes with him, books cradled into her arms. “You do whatever you want to do from here. But I have to go do this. He has sent in motion a plan we cannot stop. But if you let me go do this - one day there will be people to stop it. But I am sorry. Time could not be wasted on us. Our fates have been sealed.” And then managed to scoot out the door and past him, and the moment she had, burst into a run. She went out the back of the building, fewer lights flickering in the distance. 

Back inside, watching his sister leave them all to die. Only minutes till the crown-backed-mob attacked. Over 30 pupils. And only one of him. 

How do you tell them. How do you prepare 30 mostly brand new vampires that one of their own just sent the crown after them and there was nothing meaningful they could do. Rooms of brand new immortals. All just to die again anyways. 

Glancing back outside again, the flickers ever closer, nearing the point of being able to make out the bodies. And horses. It was looking bad. The building was at least stone, so they couldn’t burn it - again. 

But there had to be at least 200 out there. If not more. 

Still. He had to do something. So he began, going room to room. Telling them to go into the basement. To get into the armory. They had, even if still marginally slim, a chance if they got down there. 

But by the time he had reached some of the last rooms, and they were only just making their way down, did the villagers start filing in. 

First it was just the door, the pound of them trying to break it open. But before they managed to, the first window shattered. Then a second. Then a third. Then he lost count as the chaos began. 

The three that had reached the armory ran back up, in an effort to help the others. From the upstairs he could see it all. a few dragged away and into the carriages, likely pre chosen. Most began dropping like flies. A few of them were such new recruits. One hadn’t even had a first blood meal. 

Then the door flung open. all of that and the front door hadn’t even been open. 

And there he was. last seen at that door as a friend, a pupil. Now bringing the reign of terror to his previous friends. A pride on his face, as he looked at the carnage he had directly caused. 

Then he started counting. looking one by one at all the dead on the ground. A whisper to another, checking how many had been taken. 

The last few around the edges of the house had fallen as he counted, and before he turned to leave satisfied with himself, looked up at Clement with such satisfied distain that it could freeze a sun. and then walked out, without saying a word, the rest of the village following. 

And once again - for the third time, the program failed. The first two due to failing to stay separate of town. Now, because one of their own. volunteering them. Announcing them. All for what? Because he found his want to pillage more important than anything else. Including all of his new family. 

Clement stared down at the mess before him. He couldn’t save any of them. They were already turned. Already dead. Now they’re just, more dead. All that work to save them the first time. 

The sun rose. Then the sun set again. At some point clement sat along the rail. Just staring at the catastrophic failure. Eventually, after a few more sun sets, he began to stand. Practically starving at this point, he basically tumbled his was down the stairs, and out into the forest surrounding the house. After managing to grab a fox, it only satiated a bit of the hunger. But it was enough to start. 

He walked all the way over the a pavilion down the stream, and began to dig a hole for each. They each technically already had coffins. And it would be a long time till he ever started the program back up. If he ever did. He dragged each coffin out of their rooms, down the stairs, and out to the pavilion. It took three days. 

Then he took each of them, and laid them in their coffins. Each already personalized by them. So it was easy to tell who went where. Which at least allowed for one part of the process to be easy. 

The littlest, she was only 6. River drowning. Had managed to bring her back. She was always making everyone things out of flowers, so they had decorated hers in flowers. She had been one of the first out. Her surrogate older sister was next, she fell first. the knife still gripped in her hand was covered in blood. So she at least did manage to put up somewhat of a fight. She had come from the stables. The horses had nearly killed her, she just got stuck. Wrong place at the wrong time. Twice now. But un-savable this time. 

Then more. Then more. Then more. Each of the 30 they currently had. He could have sent for some of the graduates, but how. And would that not put them in farther danger? 

Once all the pupils had been burying and covered, he went back into the house, and boarded up the windows. Fixed the door. And locked it. 

Whumper takes them in with one marveling gaze. "Hello, there; aren't you beautiful?"

Whumpee seems to be unsure of what to think. They shudder when Whumper's gloved hand touches their face, but Whumper gently undoes the bow sealing their lips.

"What's your name, then, hm?"

Whumpee's lips appear cracked and they mechanically repeat the name written on the tag.

"Was that your name before they wrapped you up for me?"

A bewildered look crosses Whumpee's face, then a sad frown. "...no."

Whumper shakes their head with a knowing smile, "Petty bastards," they remark, glancing towards the host, "What's your name, then?" they pull Whumpee a little closer, Whumpee's ribbons teasing down dangerously low, "That name?"

Whumpee glances down at their upset ribboning, then inclines their head nearer Whumper's.

"They'll hear it..."

Whumper takes a drought of their scent, "Mmm, I hope they do. But they won't hear if I drink."

Fangs tease Whumpee's neck and Whumper indulges in their veins. With a choked gasp, Whumpee buries their face into the crook of Whumper's shoulder, hiding from the gala, the vampires...themselves.

Whatever name they give Whumper is murmured low enough that no one else hears it.

But Whumper never needs to ask them again what their true name is.

Not that night.

Whumper caresses their hair, "How are you feeling?"

Whumpee slumps at the touch, leaning towards Whumper's hand, "Fu...fine."

Vampire boyfriend who finds joy in the mundane things again because of you. Who loves watching you cook, fold clothes or going grocery shopping.

The way you’ve brought so much light to his dismal world has shown him a new meaning of living. He’s living for you. Living to see you smile. Living to hear you say “I love you” living every moment as happy as he can with you by his side.

He’s absolutely head over heels with you. You beg him constantly to turn you so you two can spend forever together. He’s hesitant at first but as time goes on you were him down. He makes a day of it calling it your new birth. When he turns you, the bite leaves smalls scars on your neck. Almost making him to happy seeing you, with a lasting imprint, a lasting mark of him always on you.

Now you both can spend eternity together. Living life as full as you both can. Together.

They know they can trust their partner, but their body doesn’t. A primal sense wells up in them that they’ve never felt before. They’ve never needed to until now. Their body doesn’t realize it’s their lover, and their nervous system doesn’t register their trust. All their instincts see is a natural predator.

They can’t help it. It just happens whenever their lover is near. Their pupils dilate, their heart pounds in their chest, their muscles tense in preparation. They can never truly relax, even though they know it’s safe for them to do so. *They* know their partner won’t hurt them, but their body never will. They’ll always be just a little bit on edge, no matter what.

Their partner can tell, obviously. It’s hard not to. It’s impossible not to notice the way their beloved shudders each time they see their fangs. They offer constant reassurance, assuring their partner that they would never hurt them. They won’t bite unless their partner wants them to. They start getting blood from drives rather than live donors to appear less predatory. They know that nothing will work, obviously.

There will always be that sense of subconscious danger, an instinct that spans thousands of years. Their system will always be filled with doubt. An endless cycle of unwilling what-if's that keeps them tense.

It's weird. Some people say everything's ok now and that vampires have full rights, and you know for a fact that it's not true. Society still is ruled by humans, still privileged for humans, still deeply afraid of vampires and other such creatures. At the same time when people say nothing has gotten better it seems just as untrue. You can do things you never thought you'd be allowed to do. Are people really not able to understand the neuance that progress can have been made, and still need to be made, is that too much for a world where essays have been replaced with posts?

The humans around you don't realize how much like humans in the past they are. They think they accept vampires, because they pity you, but that still means they see you as lesser. Domestic women with their chattering support who still think that it would be the worst fate imaginable to have their child become a vampire. A society that calls itself accepting but still can only understand siring new vampires as am act of violence. A society that says its abolished monster hunters but then has policemen and three letter organizations do the same job. They say you're welcome in this world but threaten you if you don't enter it. Because their society was never built for someone with centuries of personal history, or someone who might have had to kill to survive two hundred years ago, or the family like relationships bound by those who'll never have children and never grow old. It's still hard for most people you know to get blood, still hard to find work if you can't go out at night, and you're still stuck with the knowledge that if you scare the wrong human you'll be treated just as much hostility as you would four hundred years ago. So many humans, mabye not all but too many, act like the kings who tried to make deals with their nations' monsters centuries ago, they call it generosity that they don't kill you, and don't realize that means they think they have a right to kill you.

Meanwhile looking at vampiric social media makes you feel so cold and alone. All humans are treated as evil, even when you've been on the same side as the marginalized of humanity so many times. People argue over if vampires should have solidarity with ghouls or werewolves or other monsters, and if they're more or less privileged then eachother, and who has a right to talk to eachother. There's arguments about what terms who can use, and whose even a real monster. There's argument over age gaps between immortals, and if you're the age you're bitten or the age you currently are (you've always seen yourself as both but that's too much for most of social media). You're considered privileged for passing as human, which you are, your only inhuman traits are fangs and a lack of genitals, but vampires with entirely inhuman appearances are a lot less privileged then you. But when they call you less privileged its always as an accusation, always as some sort of sin the be punished, with the same fervor as the catholics who once hunted you down. There are people on social media who consider themselves vampire affirming Christians, and they're never really vampire affirming. You remember being in person for centuries and there wasn't this individualist sense of fighting, there was a time when you traveled with vampires, some of whom looked less human then you, and you traveled with werewolves because they were hunted too, and you'd travel with humans who were hunted by the same society that hunted you. And it's easy to forget that there's still in person interactions you can have like that, when the glow of a screen pretends to be the entire world.

You had a friend, who traveled with you for centuries, who claimed vampires would never be free, that there was no hope agaisnt humanity's rule. She died in 1819, never having a reason to think otherwise. You wished you could show her this world and prove her wrong, tell her something could be done. You want to hope, you want to believe she'd actually be proven wrong, that she'd say this wasn't just another deal that humanity would one day forget.

oh? You mean to say that this character, who has lived in uncontested luxury, in tyranny and sated bloodlust, is getting their comeuppance? AND said comeuppance is in the form of someone they find extremely hot???

you mean to tell me that this person, undeterred by the nature of their ‘inherent’ role as prey, has instead dawned the agency of hunter? that they, despite all advantages their enemy has over them, are certain that they may find the strength to outwit and overpower the embodiment of sateless hunger? and they do so with cunning?

sign me uppppppp

Clawed fingers slipping between cloth and skin. Teasing nibbles that remind Whumpee their master acts with restraint.

Material shifting over quivering shoulders, pooling around the taut waist as Whumpee is unwrapped like a gift...or a meal.