#beanwhump

[itswhumpday]

GIVE ME NICE WHUMPER!! GIVE IT TO MEEEE!! Open... the nice whumper vault. Stop... having it be closed. D : asdfghjkl

Hhhhhhhhhhnnnngggg… Fine! Just this once. 

---

“I’ll be right here when you come out, alright?” 

Whumper’s voice was always the last thing Whumpee heard before everything went to shit. They tried to remind themselves it wasn’t Whumper’s fault. But it was damn hard not to hate their guts when it hurt like this. 

The tests were a stepping stone on the way to a cure. A cure for humanity. Whumpee just had to suck it up. They were the ones who had begged to join the program anyway. And Whumper always said their life meant nothing when compared to the survival of the species. 

First, the new drug would go into the bloodstream. The effects of each one were always a fun surprise. The disease took over the entire body, with symptoms that varied from case to case, with a few common ones. More than just a cure, they helped develop medicine for the symptoms. Only one thing was always the same: the burning sensation spreading through their flesh as the liquid travelled. 

“Steady,” Whumper said, holding Whumpee down as they struggled against the uncomfortable restraints that held them to the table. There were still bruises where they had been held down before. The restraints weren’t enough. When the drug spread… every instinct they had yelled that they had to leave. A spasm made Whumpee try to pull their arm away and Whumper slammed them down. “Steady, now!” 

“I heard!” Whumpee spits back, trying to hold still. It was like trying to keep smoke inside. You can do it for a while, but one the burning gets too intense, builds up too high, you have to let it out or it consumes you. 

The burning was on their chest now, their breathing getting labored. Sweat covered their entire body within a few minutes. Ah, so this was what they were trying to treat this time… 

“Hey. Don’t fall asleep.” Whumper gave them a little slap to the cheek. Whumpee held back the instinct to bite them. 

“Wasn’t… planning… on it.” Whumpee managed, as their throat kept closing up. 

“I mean it. If you embarrass me, I’ll stop giving you extra pudding.” 

“No… You won’t.” Whumpee’s back rose off of the table as a new wave of searing pain crossed their chest as if scorching iron was being touched to the skin and let out a pained scream before falling back down, breathless. They felt Whumper cleaning their face with a glorious cold compress. “You… hate… pudding,” Whumpee continued, as if nothing had happened, although dark spots were swimming around their vision. 

“That’s true.” Whumper always seemed casual during these sessions. Whumpee didn’t know if it was all an act, or if they were truly this able to ignore another’s feelings. Whumper held them by the neck - not hard, but enough to cut the limited supply of air. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make your life much worse if you don’t fight.” 

Whumpee fought. They rose off the table, banged back down, revolted against the retraints until they felt blood. Whumper pulled back with a smile, raising their hands. Whumpee saw it as if they were seeing it on the other side of a tunnel. They let go, closing their eyes and focusing on their breathing. 

They opened their eyes a second before Whumper was about to slap them again. 

“One day…” Whumpee said. “W-w-when… This is all over. When this… When we get this cure…” Getting the words out was a struggle on itself, but this they had to say. “I’ll kick your ass.”“And if when we do get this cure, I’ll let you.” Whumper said, leaning closer and raising an eyebrow. “There’s an incentive to stay alive.”

---

Listen, this one BROKE ME. T'was the reason for me collapse. I could not conceive of a nice whumper even WAS. I was in shambles, not thinking myself worthy of this community.

But I have returned and FACED MY FEARS. There's your nice whumper!

And as usual, my requests are ALWAYS open. I might take over a year (like I did with this one), but I'll get to them eventually

[itswhumpday]

Hardened and no-nonsense (can come across as callous/exasperated) Medic + inexperienced and slightly terrified Whumpee, and Whumpee needs stitches or other painful field treatment without pain meds available?

I went with firemen, because they are a blast. Haha! Get it! Anyway, love this trope. Thanks for requesting it.

A building had collapsed. Again. 

Caretaker barely noticed it anymore. It was just a part of living in a world of superpeople. They broke things to “save the city”, then ran off when it was time to pay the bill. And today seemed to be some major battle because the earth had been shaking more than usual and calls had been coming in from everywhere. 

Before they left, the Caretaker saw the rookies getting ready. It would be their first mission. They looked so excited: eyes gleaming, hands nervously checking their equipment. Caretaker hoped they would get a good first run: something chill, to ease them onto the job. They would have many years like Caretaker had to regret going into this career. They could have a couple of days to believe they were heroes. 

The building was pretty standard. Most people were already outside. Caretaker stayed out to help with first aid. Some of their comrades went inside to search for the rest of the victims. Everything was running smoothly: people were being put into ambulances and evacuated, bit by bit. 

Which, of course, was when the world went to shit. Figures. 

The Caretaker’s walkie-talkie blared. Their team was going to be split in two because they were the closest location to the attack. Supervillains trying to destroy City Hall. Caretaker didn’t know why they kept building that place up since it got blown up all the time. 

“Some of ours were inside.” Said dispatch as the Caretaker got into the truck. “The rookies. They were picking up donations for last week’s victims.” 

Caretaker swore. The truck lit up its lights and sirens and they raced to city hall. Another truck had arrived and was already trying to put out the fire. Caretaker runs inside, with two others right behind them. One separates once they enter the hall. The ceiling has a gaping, flaming hole, which isn’t very encouraging. As they went from room to room, their colleague gathered the people who could walk and started walking them back to the entrance. Caretaker was alone. But that was fine. That had happened many times before. 

Caretaker helped a worker whose desk had fallen on her and handed her off through the window to a colleague. The rest of the floor was mostly evacuated. Then, as they walked past the elevator towards the stairs, they heard whimpering. 

“Hello?” They called out. 

“Here!” They heard, from below, through the elevator doors. Caretaker quickly took out the tool and got the doors opened. The elevator car was halfway here, halfway down. The cables were all twisted and it looked like it was the only thing holding it in place and keeping it from breaking down. “I- I’m here.” 

Called the person again. Caretaker carefully looked inside. At the bottom of the car, laid one of her rookies, Whumpee. Boxes and boxes of donations were around them on the floor under the little light coming from her flashlight. Their body however, was on the floor. An insane amount of blood covered the floor of the elevator. 

“They had—” They tried to say, eyes so pained they were unfocused. “They had donations— The… the elevator.” 

“Shh. It’s fine. I get it. Let’s get you out of here.” 

Caretaker assessed. Down was always better than up, especially in a flaming building. They raced down the stairs into the basement until they found the entrance to the elevator. Luckily, the doors were already opened there.

As soon as they arrived, they noticed the rookie was breathing too fast. “Stop that.” Caretaker said, drier than they meant to. “You’re going to hyperventilate.” 

The rookie looked at them with tears in their eyes. 

“I thought you’d left.” 

“Why would I leave? You’re stuck with me. Now, where are you hurt?” 

They pointed. 

“My leg. It’s pretty busted.” 

One look confirmed it. It was badly dislocated. But not broken. 

“We need to get you out of that elevator before it falls. Got that?” 

Rookie shook their head. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“I didn’t ask. Give me your arms.” 

Caretaker pushed the boxer aside and grabbed the Whumpee’s arms, slowly dragging them. Whumpee yelled, but didn’t squirm. Caretaker grabbed them by the shoulders and finally got them out of the elevator, grabbing their knees before they fell. 

That, of course, didn’t help their injury, and they yelled again, staring to hyperventilate again. 

“Hey, hey. No. None of that.” Caretaker placed them down on the floor. They took out the cylinder of oxygen at their back, opened it and placed the mask on their face. “This is a burning building and we have to get out of it, right?” 

Whumpee was looking at Caretaker as if they were speaking Greek. 

“Right?!” They pushed. 

“Right.” Rookie said in a small voice. 

“And what to we need to make that happen?” 

Rookie blinked and then looked at themselves. 

“For me to walk?” 

“Fantastic. And how do we do that?” 

Caretaker placed themselves in front of their dislocated knee.

“No.” 

“Yes. Count to three.” 

“No! You’re going to do it on two!” 

“They give you too much training on that school! One!” 

“No, no, no, no!” Rookie cried, hiding their face, but otherwise firmly secure by Caretaker’s experienced hands. 

“Two!” 

“Just go already!” Whumpee yelled, read in the face!” 

“Three!”

“You’re supposed to go on two!” 

“Four!” Caretaker pulled the leg back in its place and Rookie screamed in pain. Whumpee slumped back, their eyes rolling back, their body covered in sweat, breathing heavily. 

Caretaker slapped their face lightly. 

“Hey. Wake up. This is still a burning building. We have to get out.” Whumpee blinked, in pain, their breathing difficult. Caretaker held the mask closer to their face. “Deep breaths, rookie. You can do it. I’m right here.” 

Caretaker sat them down. Whumpee slumped, looking like they would fall. Their hand grabbed the mask and they took two deep breaths before nodding they were ready. 

Caretaker stood them up, one of their arms around their shoulders. They were carrying the Rookie more than helping them, but it was alright. They stepped once. Then twice and Caretaker had to use their injured knee. They gritted their teeth and gave another step. 

Together, they would make it out of this burning building.

Thank you for reading all the way here! Reminder I take requests, I just take a VERY long time to get through them.

[itswhumpday]

This might sound weird but I wanted to ask if you could write a story where The whumpee has been trained to essentially be the whumpers pet, and once their rescued the caretaker has to deprogram them and help them recover

“Pets eat on the ground.” Whumpee says, like they’re tired of saying. They take the plate, rise it off the table and put it on the floor, where they sit in front of it. “A good pet knows.” 

Caretaker is still standing next to the kitchen table, hands on their hips, lips pursed, as if they didn’t know what to do with Whumpee. It had been a couple of days since Whumpee had started to recover enough to venture outside of their room. They were surprised to find themselves in a nice house - nothing like the ones Whumper would put them in to test them. But nonetheless, it simply made no sense to defy them. 

“You’re not a pet.” Caretaker says, as they did before. “You’re a person.” 

“People can be pets.” Whumpee shrugs, but their shoulders are still a little sore. They wince, but they have to finish the sentence. “A good pet knows.” 

Caretaker sighs, looking at their own plate on the table. They pick it up and put it on the floor next to Whumpee’s, sitting down. 

“What are you doing?” Whumpee takes their own plate, scooting to the side. Was this a trick? It had to be a trick. “You’re not a pet. Pets eat on the ground. People eat on the table. A good pet knows.”

“I am a person. And I choose to have dinner wherever I want.” Caretaker offers them a fork. Whumpee extends their hand, but they don’t go for the fork. Their thin fingers go to Caretaker’s neck, touching it as softly as a winter breeze. They put their head to the side, looking for signs, but finding none. 

“No collar.” 

“No collar.” Caretaker agrees. They raised their hands and touching Whumpee’s own throat. They try not to pull away. “And you don’t have one either.”

Whumpee looks down. It’s true. Whenever they got tested before, the collar always stayed on. If they tried to take it off, the test ended. 

“Maybe they just got bored of me.” Whumpee looks at their food with a sense of dread spreading in their stomach. “They always said they would get a new pet.” 

“They didn’t get bored of you.” Caretaker’s voice is hard. 

“How do you know?” Whumpee takes a deep breath, daring to look up at Caretaker’s eyes. They are icy and stony, an expression they still hadn’t seen. 

“Because I killed them.” Caretaker says. Whumpee’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “And there are no pets without owners.” Here’s the other one! Sorry again for taking so long and thank you so much for the asks you send and please send them my way whenever you wish <3

[itswhumpday]

HeyI have a request! Whumpee is rescued by the police, and caretaker is there too but after everything that happens whumpee is utterly terrified of everybody and caretaker has to watch whumpee desend into madness while they try to rescue them. Time skip, whumpee wakes up in a hospital bed. Restrained for both their and everyone else's safety. Caretaker realizes this when they see whumpee and while they can't take off the restraints, they caress their head and comfort whumpee.tysm if you do this!

Hey, bud! Thanks so much for your request and so sorry for the time I took. Shortly after your ask arrived, all of the protests started going on and I didn’t feel like doing anything painting the police in any kind of positive light (ACAB, after all). So I jumped straight for the time skip and I hope that’s enough. 

Caretaker hasn’t slept since they got there. Unlike the Whumpee, that’s done nothing but sleep. 

But it’s better. It is. Everything is better than what they saw almost a full day ago. 

The night was dark. The street lights were blinding. The rain was pouring. You could hear the whumpee’s roar over everyone’s voices, over the traffic, over the rain. Caretaker just stood there, wet to the bone, unable to take reality in. They’d dreamed about that moment so many times and yet something inside of them kept repeating “not like this. not like this”. 

Wet, their old clothes, now reduced to rags, clung to their weakened figure. Even in the low light, Caretaker could see the bruises and the needle pricks and the wounds. But above all, they could hear the scream. It came from the back of the throat, ripping the night. It didn’t have words: not “help” or “please”, to which Caretaker believe they would have responded. It was just a blind fight, a sink or swim instinct. 

The medical team had to sedate and restrain them. Caretaker wishes they’d done something, they’d stopped it. They heard the words “for their safety and ours” sometimes, but they never truly believed it. Whumpee was sweet and nimble. They couldn’t hurt a fly. They’d never…

But as time passed and they’d slowly dried up in this hospital room, reality started to sink in. This is not the Whumpee they knew. Or at least, they might not be when they wake up. The medical team tells them Whumpee might wake up any time now. 

Caretaker resumes their post, eyes heavy with sleep, mind filled with thoughts. They feel like, even if they manage to sleep, they’ll see the horrible things from the last 24 hours. The rescue, the restraining, the Whumpee laid motionless and strapped to a hopsital bed. 

The room has been so silent that when Whumpee finally shifts, Caretaker raises their head at the sound. Whumpee’s head lolls to one side and then the other, their eyes moving behind the closed lids. They start to mumble, first gibberish, then words. “No, no, no, not again”, they repeat time and time again. They try to move their hands, hold themselves, but the restraints stop them. They start fighting them, the urgency in their mumbling rising until it becomes a series of painful groans and sobs. 

Caretaker isn’t scared. After yesterday, they feel numb. Like they’re carried by a superior force, they lean down and hold the whumpee’s hands. At first they fight it blindly, but Caretaker rubs their thumbs against their skin. 

“Shh, shh. It’s alright.” Caretaker says. Like a work of magic, Whumpee stops fighting, listening. Their hands start to shake. Caretaker leaves a kiss on each of them. “I’m here, I’m here with you. No one is going to hurt you. You can rest.” 

Whumpee lets out another painful sound that ends in a sob. Their eyes fight to open, but they seem heavy. 

“This is cruel.” Their voice is still course from the day before. “This is so cruel.” 

Caretaker doesn’t know what they mean, but they let go of one of their hands and brushes the dirty hair out of their eyes, caressing their head when they’re done. 

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts. But you’ll get better soon. I’ll be with you the whole time.” 

Whumpee’s eyes finally get into focus, filling with tears soon after. 

“It can’t be, it can’t.”

Caretaker cleans one of the tears that fall. 

“But it is.” 

As always, if you have a request, please send me an ask. I don’t promise speed, but I do promise good whump!

[itswhumpday]

Bloodbags - Prologue

“Tsc. A pity.” 

When Caretaker walks into the room, their human assignment is at their normal place: spread across the table, neck lifted by a round pillow for easy access. The now familiar row of bites that go down their neck. 

There is, however, an uncommon paleness to them. 

“What happened?” 

Whumper snaps their tongue, waving their head towards the mess close to the exit door. A broken vase, a fallen table. Signs of a struggle. Whumper is dressed as elegantly as ever, as if every dinner was a party. Not a sign that something had gone wrong, except for their grimace. 

“Tried to escape. Hate it when blood bags go bad. Have someone find me a new one, will you?” Whumper lets out a dramatic sigh. “They always take so long to train… Maybe we should get a different kind.” 

The human on the table is still breathing. Out of all the vampire lords and ladies, Whumper is the only one that boasts to have never killed a blood bag while feeding. 

The boss’ hunger is not what kills the blood bags. It’s their pride. 

“Can’t we just drop them off somewhere? I’m sure they wouldn’t remember anything”, Caretaker asks, struggling not to shake. It’s always like this when a blood bag gets discarded. They always promise themselves they won’t get attached, but the time comes and it’s always the same. 

“You never learn, do you?”

Whumper takes out a cigar box from under the table. Opens it, takes out a needle. It has a shimmery black liquid inside. Mercy. Caretaker knows it all too well. They take a step back. 

“I am nothing if not merciful.”

 Years of practice allows them to insert the needle easily in the blood bag’s arm. As they push the plunger, the dark liquid starts travelling up the veins, darkening everything in its path. Caretaker bites on their own tongue until it bleeds.

The human starts to choke and both the vampires can hear their heartbeat fasten. Sweat drops form in their forehead. Whumper discards the needle and closes the cigar box. They put it back under the table. 

“Get rid of them when it’s over. You know what to do.” 

Whumper leaves, but Caretaker stays. They force themselves to watch. It’s the least they owe them. Shaking they manage to ge to the table. 

They thrash weakly as the veins in their neck turn black. They’re struggling to breathe. Their eyes flutter, human instinct trying to keep them alive, but they have no chance. 

It’s too much for Caretaker to take. They caress the human’s hair softly, shushing them. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you.”

They take both sides of their face as carefully as one would hold a child. Caretaker thinks they see a glint of recognizement in the blood bag’s feverish eyes, but might be just wishful thinking. Caretaker would like their human to know that they were here in their final moments. That they didn’t let them go through what Caretaker did all those years ago. 

Caretaker twists their neck in a quick motion that produces a chilling crack. 

They take a deep breath. 

Never again, they think. I’ll never let myself care like this again. 

They know they’re wrong. They just didn’t know how wrong.

[itswhumpday]

Blood Bags | Chapter 2

[Prologue] | [1]

Whumpee always thought that when they were sold, they would be the perfect blood bag. Take out their frustrations with the other humans, but be pristine and perfect next to their owner. Don’t move too much, don’t make a fuss, follow the rules. They thought it would be easy. They’d been trained all their lives for this. 

But Caretaker’s words keep hammering in their brain as they follow them through the dark and well decorated halls. They keep waiting for Caretaker to tell them more about what to expect, but they remain silent the whole way. 

They stop outside of a door that’s identical to many others in a hall. Whumpee knows dining rooms well. 

Caretaker opens the door. Whumper is sitting next to the table, legs crossed, a soft smile in their face. They’re also dressed as if going to a cocktail party, a similar velvety garment in a different color. They have a glass of wine in their hands. 

“Ah. Glad to see you’re here. Please, come inside.” 

Whumpee hesitates before leaving Caretaker’s side. They were nice. Whumper seemed nice, but they’d learned from an early age no never expect much from vampires. 

Whumper makes a gesture towards the table. It’s encased in easy to clean fake leather. Whumpee takes a deep breath and does their best to stay calm as they sit down on it. 

“Do you prefer sitting up or laying down?” 

Whumper looks impressed. They open a wild smile. Whumpee tries not to feel proud. 

“Lay down, please.” 

Whumpee does as Whumper stands up. 

“Has Caretaker explained how I like to feed?” 

“They said you like adrenaline. But I have to admit I don’t understand what they mean.” 

“You will.” They leave their glass aside and walk to the table. 

Standing beneath them, Whumpee can’t help but notice how devilishly beautiful they are. Perhaps they can be happy here. They can be a good blood bag, they can follow the rules…

Then Whumper grabs them by the neck and starts pressing down. It’s so hard the airflow suddenly stops. Whumpee’s eyes widen in terror as they take their hands to the hand holding them down. They push it, they punch it. But Whumper doesn’t even budge. Their beautiful face gets closer. 

“Feeding takes too long. Drinking drip after drip bores me. Your body’s natural state is made to keep you alive, not me.” Whumpee is already starting to feel the lack of oxygen. Their chest starts to ache. “Right now, your heart is picking up to deliver the remaining oxygen to the rest of your body. Isn’t it amazing?” 

Whumpee can’t think. They can hardly process what Whumper is saying. Air, air, air. 

“I want your blood to thump quickly. I will train you so that every time you see me, your heart does this.” Whumper touches Whumpee’s face with their index finger, imitating the sound of their racing heart that’s already echoing inside their head. “Bump, bump, bump, bump.” 

It’s too much to keep their arms up and fighting. Their arms fall to their side, flacid. Their mouth is opening in closing against their will, trying to get something through. Their chest is contracting painfully, contorting under Whumper’s iron grip. The sides of their vision are starting to fade. 

“Most vampires like to feed on blood. I like to feed on fear.” 

Whumper lets go. Whumpee instantly takes sharp intakes of breath, choking on the cold air. Whumper’s hands hold their shoulders in place. Their fangs rupture their neck. 

Whumpee feels a wave of cold like never before. Even as air starts coming in again, the weakness doesn’t go away. They can’t even raise a finger. As minutes pass, they start to shake. Their vision swims. 

“St-- “ Whumpee tries to say, like they were taught. They should always let their master know when they’re about to go over the line. Products like blood bags were expensive and should alert their owners. But Whumpee’s lips are heavy. “S—” 

They only thing they can hear is their thundering heart as their eyes roll back. They still feel it when Whumper pulls away and their head falls to the side. 

At first they didn’t know what Caretaker meant when they said to be afraid. Now they do.

[itswhumpday]

Blood Bags | Chapter 7

[Prologue] | [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6]

Whumpee was sick. 

Caretaker knew it the very next morning they woke up from their shivering sleep. Their breathing never recovered from the hurried, scaredy breaths they’d been giving since the last night. When Caretaker tried to feed them something warm, they threw up and almost passed out. Caretaker knew it was bad from the high number of the fever. They would press their cold hands against Whumpee’s sweaty face in hopes to get their temperature down, but it didn’t really do it. Whumpee swore, however, that it helped somehow. 

The Pantry wasn’t a hospital. It was a resuscitation center. As long as a vampire lord wanted a blood bag alive, that was the place to do it. There were plastic blood bags and defibrillators and oxygen cylinders. But it wasn’t equipped for other kinds of illnesses. When blood bags got sick, they were sacrificed. Feeding on someone sick wouldn’t make a vampire sick, but it surely wasn’t up to their standards. 

Caretaker knew they would have to leave the house and go find Whumpee the antibiotics they needed. Perhaps even an electric blanket - as the seasons slowly changed, marching towards winter, the Pantry was getting colder and colder. They decided to go soon, before Whumper got hungry again. They could only hope that it wouldn’t be too soon. 

“Whumpee.” Caretaker called. Whumpee opened their heavy eyes. Everything feels heavy these days. As always, they got scared upon waking, grabbing their own chest, trying to breathe deeper, but failing. It takes a while until they get used to it. Caretaker held their hand, waiting. “I’m going to go out and get you medicine.” 

“No…” Whumpee murmured, holding their hand as tight as they could. “No, please, don’t leave me here with them. 

“You’re sick. I have to.” 

“I don’t care. I can… I can...” Whumpee’s eyes closed again, too heavy. When they opened them again, Caretaker was gone. They called for them, waiting. But they didn’t come. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” 

Whumpee woke up from a nightmare straight into another nightmare. They were suffocating again. They roll in bed, coughing wheezing, trying to clear their lungs. In their dreams, they were back in the tub, Whumper above them, keeping them down. 

Here, Whumper is at the door, a wicked grin in his face. 

“Ah, why the long face, my dear? Haven’t you had time to recover?” Whumper asked, waltzing inside the room. “Three days is more than enough, I would say.” 

Whumpee blinked at them, almost in awe of their complete lack of sense. It worked his magic, however. Just from seeing them, Whumpee could feel their heart start to pick up the pace. 

“Let’s go for a walk.” 

They said, stopping in front of the bed, extending their hand. The side of the blanket was still dirty with Whumpee’s mucus. They clean the excess with the back of their hand, struggling to sit down. They wanted more than nothing to send that person to hell. 

But they knew better than to defy their lord. 

“Sure, let me just grab my shoes and my coat…” 

“That won’t be necessary.” 

Whumpee’s heart skipped a beat. They looked at Whumper, waiting for them to say they were kidding. They weren’t. 

***

“Our dearest Caretaker made such a good choice by leaving today. It’s a lovely night outside.” 

Whumper said, as they left the staircase and started walking towards a side of the house Whumpee didn’t know yet. Despite the cold ground and being dressed only in a thin t-shirt and pants, it was good to change the scenery, even if it probably meant they were going to be fed on. 

“Are we going outside?” Whumpee couldn’t help but ask, already feeling a phantom shiver. 

“Naturally. I have an idea that will surely interest you.” 

Whumpee seriously doubted it, but couldn’t say a thing. 

They reached big tall wood double doors, decorated with emeralds, gold and marble. It’s exactly how Whumpee would imagine the doors to freedom looked like. Whumpee took them through a side door, much smaller and simpler, but that did the same. One step and they were outside. 

The wind was the first thing Whumpee noticed, crossing their arms to protect themselves. The cold grass under their feet. From there, they could see the trail that led to the gates in the distance and all of the forest ground before that. They can see the corner of a big pool to the right of the house. It has all of the characteristics of a castle… But it seems much smaller on the outside. 

“What… What do you propose, my lord?” 

Whumper smiled and gestured towards the land. 

“Go.” 

“Go?” 

“Go. Run. I’ll give you a ten minute head start. If you manage to get to the gate without me catching you… I’ll grant you your freedom.” 

Whumpee’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“You mean… Freedom? As in… I can leave? Go… Go live with the other humans.” 

Whumper nodded. They wouldn’t… Sure they… How could… That had to be a trick. They knew they had no chance, that’s why they took them like this: sick and barely dressed. Night was getting colder by the minute. There was no way this was serious. 

And yet… Whumpee was smart. Perhaps they could make it. Maybe they could outsmart Whumper. If they could only find somewhere to hide, something to mask their scent with. They could find a city. They could denounce all of these operations, expose vampires. It was just too sweet to pass on.

They bolt ahead with no warning. Perhaps they can snatch a couple more seconds that way. Without looking back, they run downhill towards the road that would lead them to freedom. 

By the time they reach the trees, they know they won’t be making it anywhere. They try to soldier on, push forward, but they very quickly fall to their knees, coughing violently, wheezing through it. There is a sudden pain to their chest and they hold a hand against it to keep it from popping. They just lay there, face against the grass for several minutes, although they don’t know how many. 

They try to stand up. Holding themselves up with the help of the trees, they manage to follow ahead for at least a couple of feet before they have to stop and breathe again. The air that comes inside is cold and only makes the coughing hurts more. They’re hyper aware Whumper must be coming any minute, so they keep making their small progress. 

In the end, as they predicted, is not enough. 

“Are you kidding?!” Whumper’s voice comes from behind. “Are you telling me I give you the opportunity of a lifetime and you just throw it away?” 

Whumpee is leaning heavily against a tree, feeling their knees already weak. They know, at that minute, that when Whumper drinks from them, they won’t make it. They raise their eyes back at the trail that will lead to the front gates. If at least they could see Caretaker again… Thank them for all they did, tell them it wasn’t their fault… 

Whumper grabs their neck from behind. Whumpee tenses up, thinking they’re going to choke them, but they just stand there, cold hand against the neck. Feeling for a pulse.

“I don’t think this is from running, is it? Oh well, I suppose it will do” They bit Whumpee’s neck, the familiar feeling of fangs breaching the skin. Whumpee holds the tree harder, trying to keep steady. Not even a minute in, Whumper pulls away and spits to the side. 

Whumper pushes them ahead. Whumpee falls to their knees, coughing.

“First, you stop breathing last time. Now this? Heartbeat dropping already? This is not what I was sold. They promised be a resilient blood bag. You’re not fulfilling your end of the bargain. You ought to be punished!”

Punished? Whumpee can’t think of anything worse than this life. They just stay on the ground, fighting to breathe. 

“You know what? You keep going. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.” Whumper stepped back. “If you get back to the house, you better be ready to put in the work. Your taste is great… But I won’t have a blood bag who accepts defeat.” 

Before Whumpee can understand what really happened, Whumper is gone. They raise their head, looking for them, but there’s only the cold air of the night. They struggle to understand, why would Whumper just… Leave them. When they look down at their hands, pale with cold, they suddenly understand. Whumper left them in the cold to die. 

[itswhumpday]

Blood Bags | Chapter 6

[Prologue] | [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5]

The Pantry is only equipped with small restrooms to the side of the cells. 

Twice a week or so, each of the humans get to go to one of the bathrooms upstairs and take a bath. Baths quickly become Whumpee’s favorite times of the week. Not only because it means a change of scenery from their room and the dining rooms, but because it means time is passing and they’re still alive. 

After the terrible experience with the Banquet, Whumpee feels like scrubbing even harder at their skin, like they could somehow purge all the death they had witnessed and survived that night.  

Caretaker is always right next to them when they cross the halls. They look exhausted, with dark circles around their eyes. Whumpee wants to ask if they’re okay, but they don’t think they’d like the answer. Maybe Whumper is feeding on them too. That’s a scary thought. 

Besides, none of them have been in the mood to talk since the banquet. Whumpee remembered waking up sometime after it and find Caretaker crying in the chair next to the door. Whumpee didn’t know what those tear meant, but they themselves had relief tears upon seeing the familiar prision cell again. 

Whumpee arrives at the bathroom and goes inside. Caretaker sits on the chair on the outside of it, closing the door. There are no windows, nowhere to escape. Just the beautiful, spacious bathtub, already filled up with smoking hot water. They take off their dirty clothes and throw them in the hamper. There are new ones already waiting by the sink counter. 

The human allows themselves a rare look in the mirror. They’ve lost weight and muscle fast. Their hair looks weaker, their eyes, duller. They’re still pale after the last feeding, the one they thought they were truly done for. They look sick - but they know they’ll never recover from this sickness. There is simply no time for that. 

They let out a sigh. It’s not the first time they ask themselves if they’ll make it through the month. 

Pushing such feelings aside, they crawl up the bathtub. There is no reason to worry about that now.  As they settle themselves into the hot water, their worries feel like a mile away. 

In hindsight, Whumpee couldn’t have made it easier. 

They had their eyes closed, lowered until their shoulders. The steam would come up to their face, soft against the sharp edges of their recently rediscovered bones. They were so relaxed they could sleep. 

That’s when they were pushed down. 

It felt like the weight of a brick, suddenly materialized on top of their head. It pushed them straight down, sending a wave of water up their nose. 

They struggle. There are no thoughts of Whumper or Caretaker whodunit. It’s desperation at its purest form. They flap their arms and legs around, splashing all the water they can, but the hand only keeps pushing them further. This blind fight wastes precious air and when Whumpee realizes, they’ve already let go of a lot of air in the form of bubbles. 

They stop, try to think. The water above is hard to see in, but they can recognize the silhouette of Whumper anywhere. Then, as they stop moving and the water clears, the weirdest thing happens. They start to calm down. 

All the cards are already on the table. They don’t have to walk a hallway wondering if they’ll come back. They don’t have to lie awake in bed, wondering if the next day will be the day they’ll be hurt again. They don’t have to look at Caretaker so they’ll give them strenght to endure what was coming. After surprise struck, there was nothing else. Drowining is not the worst Whumper has done. 

And that is what they thought for the first minute. Until oxygen really started running out. As their heart started racing and their lungs started contracting, they remember something Caretaker said a long time ago. You’ll find that fear is embedded in you. You’ll find it again. 

Even after they give up the fight, their body carries one without them. Their chest spams. Whumpee feels with unusual clarity the water splash against their legs, that are out the sides of the bathtub. Somewhere along the way, Whumper’s hand has found their neck. They’re not even pressinghard anymore. They’re watching from above, waiting. One of Whumpee’s last coherent thoughts was if that’s what food sees from inside the oven. 

Pain seizes their chest and they go through another spasm. Something breaks free inside them. It’s just like a hiccup. Bubbles come flooding out. Warm water spills inside their nose, their throat, burning. Whumpee chokes, but there’s only water. 

Then it’s cold. It’s hard. Whumper is over them. Whumpee coughs, but they’re facing up, the water just returns to their throat. Whumper is holding their head in place. Their mouth is in Whumpee’s throat, pressing, pulling. Their chest is against Whumpee’s chest, heavy, too heavy to breathe against. Whumpee’s brain is despairing, begging their arms to move, but they’re too weak to do anything but to watch their life darken around them. 

There is one more spasm in their chest. From the other side of a tunnel, they see Whumper move with it, but continue to drink. The water around them turns red against the white tile. This is the last they see.  ***

There are times in Caretaker’s life that they hate the situation they’re in so much, they could just walk straight out and in the sun.

Whumper hasn’t been the same since the family dinner. Caretaker had never seen them act like this, to take part in those awful demonstrations. Something was changing, it had been since Whumpee got there. They never got one from a breeder before, they never spent so much preparing ideas for the next meal. Caretaker didn’t like it. Vampires should be as apathetics about their blood bags as their servants. That’s what Whumper always used to say. 

Caretaker tried to stand in Whumper’s way when they’d gone inside. They said the human was still recovering, that they weren’t ready yet. This wasn’t how Whumper acted. But they looked almost like a child, smiling. 

“Out of the way. Now.” They’d whispered. “It’s the perfect time, isn’t it? You know I can’t let them wait for me. I have to keep surprising them, otherwise all this training was for nothing. Step out of the way.”

Caretaker knew it was futile, but they stood their ground. 

“I’m protecting your interests, my liege.” 

Whumper grabbed them by the hair and pulled them aside. Caretaker couldn’t resist, feeling the pull of their commands wiggle its way into their brain.

“Sit down there and wait.” 

Whumper’s commands grab hard at Caretaker’s mind. They try to fight it, but it forces them down. Their throat hurts with the effort of keeping in their screams. There is nothing they can do to stop it. When a vampire lord turns you, you become subject to their desires. 

Caretaker can only hope that the fear they see in Whumpee’s eyes is real enough to get this over with quickly. 

But long minutes past and it doesn’t end. They no longer hear water, so that must be good. That must mean the feeding began, that it’s close to be over. They wait, their nails digging into the wood of the chair. They keep remembering the night in the woods, when Whumpee clung to them. They’re all Whumpee has, the last failsafe. If anything goes wrong… 

This is taking way too long. No live feeding should take this long. Caretaker is about to stand up and knock when Whumper finally emerges from the bathroom, leaving the door open. A trail of blood is dripping down his chin and they don’t move to clean it. Caretaker is still stuck to their seat, looking up at them, waiting from them to release them from the orders. 

“Gah, stop worrying. The heart is still beating. My record remains.” Whumper says, almost in a dazed voice. 

Caretaker’s heart sinks. 

Whumper doesn’t give any more details, and starts walking down the hall. As soon as they’re out of range, Caretaker dashes inside. 

They almost slip. There is water everywhere. Blood turns it shades of pink and red and it drips from the bite in the neck Whumpee’s neck. Their naked body is thrown on the floor like a discarded doll, legs in an awkward angle, arms wide open. Water drips from their nose and open mouth. They’re not breathing. 

The water splashes when Caretaker drops next to them on the floor. Their head goes to Whumpee’s chest, an old human reflex. Even with their enhanced hearing, it’s hard to hear, but it’s there. A pulse.

Caretaker places their hands over their chest and start compressions. They count in their mind, going up and down with the chest. They push Whumpee’s head back slightly, meeting no resistance. They bend over for the rescuing breaths, and can’t push away the feeling of how cold Whumpee is, even against their own cold skin. 

They keep compressing. Whumpee’s weak body moves up and down violently against the floor, splashing water around them. Compression and breaths, compression and breaths. All of the equipment is downstairs, but they know better than to stop. The other servants won’t get it, they won’t help. 

It’s been minutes. Whumpee’s lips are turning blue despite Caretaker’s best efforts. Their eyes are half lidded, showing only the white sclera. Caretaker feels the sting of tears cloud their eyes. Stupid, stupid. It happened again, they let themselves care again. Whumpee was so different than the others, so confident, so strong… Why would Whumper change now? Why couldn’t they be in the usual controllable state? 

Caretaker keeps compressing and breathing, compressing and breathing, not allowing themselves to stop. They finish the round of compressions, take a deep breath, close Whumpee’s nose and blows into their mouth. 

Whumpee comes back with a bang. Water comes out of their mouth so rapidly and strong Caretaker gets all wet. But that’s okay. They pull Whumpee to the side, so they can cough the rest of the water out. Whumpee coughs and chokes, breathing hard and fast. Their entire body is shaking. Caretaker reaches for a towel, covering their nudity. They rub their back, making sure all the water is out. 

“You’re back.” Caretaker says, breathless. “You’re back. You’re okay.” 

Caretaker sees Whumpee trying to reply, but failing. Their eyes are drooping, closing. Caretaker’s eyes fall to the bite mark on their neck. That’s right! They were fed on. They had still been weak from the last one, it was no wonder their heart almost gave out. It’s better to get them downstairs, get some more blood on their system.

They lift Whumpee in their arms as they stand up. Whumpee’s eyes close, but their troubled breathing is sign enough their okay. They cough occasionally, shivering against Caretaker’s eyes. Their hand is weakly grabbing at Caretaker’s sweater. Caretaker closes their arms tigher around them. 

“You’ll be okay. I’m right here. I’m right here with you.” 

And the rest of the night, as Caretaker helps them get dry and dressed, starts their transfusion, cover them in blankets, checks their heart beat and oxygen levels, they can’t help but notice that Whumpee is not the only one with uncommon heart rhythm. 

As they spend the night in a bedside vigil, cringing at every cough Whumpee gives, carressing their hair until they’re bad to sleep, making tea so they can feel better... Caretaker knows is in more trouble than they thought.