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whumpshaped · 6 months

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I don’t think kissing will help Beck and Helle’s relationship, would probably make things worse and/or weirder, but it never hurts to try (/j)

ive waited for so long to do this

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, mind control, lady whumpee, murder, death, starvation/intense hunger, humiliation, dehumanisation, intimate whumper, dubcon kiss

Being a vampire — and a hungry one at that — was an experience entirely detached from anything that had come before it. Beck was acutely aware of the scent of every single person they passed, all the little sounds of the street, and every small movement.

According to Helle, using charm should've been easier when he was famished, since the instincts should've kicked in, but he couldn't seem to get the hang of it. He chalked it up to being new to all of this, and simply stayed in the shadows as instructed. He would try again another time, when his mind wasn't so focused on nothing but blood blood blood.

"Control yourself, will you? You do not need to stare at every single passerby," Helle said in a low voice, and Beck quickly averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"Hungry, I know." They gestured towards an alley, and Beck froze for a moment. It felt familiar. It was the same alley in which Helle had caught him, altering the course of his life forever. "This is a good place to get some privacy. Trust me on that."

"I'm... not sure I can hurt a human," he forced out, despite every fibre of his being screaming for murder. He wanted to hurt a human. He wanted to feed.

Helle saw through it as well, and gave him a condescending smile. "Yes, I can imagine the moral dilemma. Now, stay here. I shall bring you a suitable idiot."

Beck stayed as ordered. Suppressing the unwanted memories of torment and anguish was much easier when he had this constant buzzing in his head, when the desire to feed was so loud that it drowned out all the thoughts about Master not being a very kind person.

He tried to coax out some magic from within himself. He felt awfully vulnerable standing in the alley all alone, without any charm, without anyone to protect him — but it seemed impossible. He was missing a crucial step, no doubt, something he either didn't understand or Helle wasn't telling him. At the very least, describing it as instinct was a stretch. There was nothing instinctual about trying and failing over and over.

When Helle returned, they had a middle-aged woman with them, giggling and giving them the most adoring looks. She wasn't enthralled, merely charmed, but that wasn't the most interesting thing about her: it was her scent, the blood rushing in her veins right under her exposed skin. She smelled divine.

His mouth was already watering, but he stayed in place, waiting for Helle to give him the green light. They didn't. They made small talk with the woman like they had all the time in the world, only ever glancing at him to relish the hungry looks he gave them. It was maddening, and yet he made no attempt to protest.

Eventually, finally, they turned her around to face Beck instead. "Well? Try it out. Try to enthrall her."

"Can't I– can't I just feed first?" The woman's smile faltered as she kept looking at Beck, squinting as her mind tried to make sense of the image. He whimpered in fear, stepping further back into the shadows so his vampiric features would stay mostly hidden. "I mean– I meant–"

"Relax, Beck. If she snaps out of it, I can definitely enthrall her. But I would like to see you do it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked with a nervous laugh, but Helle just rolled their eyes.

"Come on," they prompted. "Try it. You should feel... how do I explain this? It should come naturally. You should be able to get a sense of her mind, how it works, what makes her tick. You should almost be able to see a little map of it in your head, with all the best places to hit so she becomes willing to listen."

"I, I can't do this, I don't get anything–"

"Beck, come here."

He swallowed and willed himself to move, standing in front of his soon-to-be victim and his sire. All the talk about vampire magic was definitely making the charm slip, and her eyes widened in recognition. "You're a vampi–" Helle quickly covered her mouth, shushing her.

"Easy," they murmured. "Stay nice and still for him, yes? He is quite new to the business of biting innocents."

She whined pathetically, but she stood no chance against them. Beck was beginning to feel a little nauseous; a feeling that somehow didn't affect the hunger in the least.

"Look into her eyes," Helle instructed softly, and Beck did, detecting nothing but the obvious terror. "Try to feel her out. Imagine what it would feel like to rip her apart and take a peek inside — that is usually how I feel when enthralling humans."

"I c-can't– I can't, I can't do that, it's not working– I just feel hungry, please, I n-need– I need to drink, please–" Nothing made sense. He wanted to sink his fangs into her neck, not his claws into her mind. He didn't care for any of that right now. His eyes kept flickering to the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder where he wanted to bite, and he just couldn't concentrate.

Helle sighed and muttered something about impatience and gluttony, but he didn't even catch it. "Alright. Let us see how you do with venom. Just let it flow, do not concern yourself with her state of mind."

That was all he wanted to hear. He grabbed the woman and bit down, an action that really was instinctual. He'd never been a fan of anatomy, and yet he could pinpoint exactly where to pierce her skin to get to the blood most efficiently.

The woman cried out in pain, muffled by Helle's hand over her mouth. "Beck? Are you not using any venom?" they asked, a little confused. "I am telling you to use it."

He barely heard it. He gulped down as much blood as he could in the shortest amount of time possible, filling his stomach for what felt like the first time in weeks.

"Beck," they hissed, and he quickly pulled away, licking his lips clean. Oh, Helle sounded pissed. "When I tell you to do something, you do it. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, Master, I'm sorry, I–"

"So use the goddamn venom."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The rich taste of blood lingered on his tongue, and he would've rather lied about not understanding how venom worked than be denied more. But he couldn't bring himself to. Lying to Helle seemed like an egregious sin.

"I don't know how," he said quietly.

They looked utterly dumbfounded. "What?"

"I d-don't know how."

"It should be the easiest thing in the world! Resisting the use of venom should be the hard part." They nodded towards the woman. "Try again."

"Yes, Master."

Once again, he didn't feel anything aside from the blood flowing into his mouth. He didn't feel like he was pumping anything back in, nor did he feel any sort of urge to do so.

Helle didn't stop him this time. Not when the woman's struggles began to get weaker, not when she passed out, not when she was starting to get unnaturally cold for a living human — and he didn't have the discipline to stop on his own.

He only pulled away when it became too hard to suck more blood out of her, and even then he was a little hesitant. As soon as he realised what he'd done, though, his perspective suddenly shifted. This wasn't a rat anymore... this was a human. This was a real human, with a real life, with friends and family–

Not anymore.

Beck stumbled backwards, horrified when Helle took out a stake and put a hole in her chest, before carelessly tossing her aside. They didn't look disappointed, or angry. No, there was something about their expression... Fondness? Excitement? They didn't even reprimand him for not using venom the second time around.

"I didn't mean to," he whispered. "I didn't– I didn't mean to kill her, oh god, I killed her– I didn't mean to!"

"Who cares?" they asked cheerily. "Who even cares? Oh, this is amazing." They walked over to him, cupping his cheeks and completely disregarding his panic. "You failed to charm a single human. You failed to enthrall your victim. You were not even able to use venom, arguably the easiest vampire trick in the book."

"I, I just killed a woman– Can we not talk about magic..? I'll try harder, just not now, please, I don't–"

"You do not get it, do you? Oh, you sweet, stupid thing." If they'd had a tail, they would've been wagging it by now. There was no way to even describe how happy they looked about the revelation they were about to share with him. "You are useless. Unable to survive on your own. You are what we would call the runt of the litter."

Beck's mind was reeling. He was still stuck on the murder part, but now Helle was giving him a new anxiety. "Wh– what? No, no, I just need a bit more time– I'm sure I can do it, I just–"

"You have had ample time. You should have at least felt an inkling of magic, but you did not." He was pretty sure everything Helle was describing was bad. So why did they seem so ecstatic about it?

"I... I don't... wanna b-be a runt," he muttered, unsure of how to handle his sire's palpable joy. "That's very bad, isn't it? I don't– I don't wanna feel so vulnerable forever."

It happened so abruptly. He was too caught up in his racing thoughts and guilty conscience to move a muscle when Helle suddenly leaned in and kissed him, passionate and demanding, like they just couldn't stay away from him for a single moment longer. Like they never even wanted to stop.

"You are going to be this vulnerable," they murmured against his lips. "Forever. My pathetic little vampire, too weak to run, unable to hide... Helpless to do anything but sit in my mansion and depend on me. Beck, you continue to be absolutely perfect." They gave him one last peck on the lips then let go of him, leaving him stunned, confused, and embarrassed. "Come along. We have more to discuss than I anticipated."

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda @steh-lar-uh-nuhs

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire whumper #vampire whumpee #mind control #lady whumpee #murder #death #starvation humiliation #dehumanisation #intimate whumper #dubcon kiss

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whumpsday · 11 months

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Kane & Jim #51: Locked In

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, torture, begging, multiple whumpers, sadistic whumpers, claustrophobia, trapped in small container, burns (lots!), death wish / suicidal ideation, starvation, weight loss due to starvation, brief mention of being mocked for weight loss, brief mention of vivisection/gore

i know i said #51 would be present arc big plot thing but i just got hit with inspo for this so that'll be #52. i just needed to grab kane and shake him around a little like my own personal stress ball.

Kane used to pace his cell sometimes, back in the early days. There wasn't much else to do. But he'd grown far too tired in the months or years since, crumbling to his knees from exhaustion after only a minute or two of circling now that he was caged in this starved, failing body.

So he just sat in the corner. His corner, the one in the back that was furthest from the stairs. He sat huddled in a little ball, like he had any ability to protect himself from whatever anyone wanted to do to him, and waited for the next one.

Kane sometimes fantasized that they would just stop coming down one day, leave him here alone. That he would be allowed to heal in peace, the only pain left the inescapable hunger, and he could live out the rest of his nights in peace. Even if he was trapped and starving and alone, it would be so much better than this.

But sure enough, he eventually heard hunters approaching, as they always did. He pressed himself back against the wall, following the useless instinct that told him to protect himself, to put as much distance as he could between him and danger, even if it was just a centimeter more.

THUNK.

Kane let out a gasp at the sound, heavy metal on concrete stairs. The most dreaded thing he could possibly hear, a telltale sign of the board. The board didn't always mean the sun, but it always meant something awful. If he was lucky, he'd just be cut open, silver dragging and burning through vulnerable innards that were never supposed to be seen at all.

If he was lucky, that was. And Kane was almost never lucky.

As the sound of the hunters dragging the thing down the stairs drew closer, Kane realized this wasn't the board. He'd lost almost everything in this place, but not his keen hearing. This was different. It sounded different. Heavier.

A new board, maybe? But the hunters already complained about the weight of the board, occasionally mocking him for how little he added to it as there grew to be less and less of him, skin sticking to bone. Why would they make it heavier?

"This thing's way too fucking heavy," one complained distantly.

Thunk.

"I can't believe you actually made this," another laughed.

Thunk.

"Well, we got that new batch of silver, gotta make some use of it. Not like we can't just melt it down again later to make something useful out of it. Might as well have a little fun first."

Thunk.

Three of them then, at least. Kane hated it when there were so many. They tended to egg each other on. If there was just one, a single hunter might concede to his begging and stop early, or go softer on him. But few of the hunters who hadn't left yet would dare to do so in front of their peers.

And whatever they had, it was silver, and it was for him. Kane whimpered, wrapping his arms around his head as wave after wave of terror rocked through him.

The sound of the stairs stopped, the delicious, horrifying smell of humans coming closer and closer. The thing, the silver thing meant for him, dragged leadenly across the floor.

Kane's heart practically stopped in his chest as the hunters finally came into view.

It was a box.

The box was small, much smaller than the board. While the board required him to stretch out and locked his wrists and ankles to the corners, exposing every inch of him, fitting inside this would require him to curl up as tightly as he could.

As small as it was, it was clearly very dense, requiring all three hunters to carry it downstairs. And though humans were physically weak as a rule, these men were clearly strong for their species. Kane was weaker than a human now. There was no way he would be getting out of this.

The box's silver gleamed menacingly, two small holes in the side of the lid and just below it giving Kane pause. Their purpose was clear: they were for a padlock to be threaded through, sealing the lid to the box with its contents trapped inside. And he was under no delusions as to what the contents would be.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he stared at the horrible thing, terror sending tremors through him. He wouldn't be able to beg himself out of this, not when they'd spent effort making this just for him. He was going in there.

One of the hunters laughed. "Look, it's shaking with excitement."

The one who'd claimed making the thing unlocked the door. "Look, leech, we got you a present. Say thank you." He waved for the others to drag it inside,

Kane just stared at him for a moment, until his fear-addled mind caught up with the order. "Thank you, sir," he choked out.

The two hunters holding the box snickered as they dropped it down in his cell, though its maker only grinned.

"Please." Kane's voice came out high-pitched and warbly as his tears started to fall, staring up at the hunter in front of him with big, watery eyes, "Please don't make me go in there, sir, please. I'll be good, I- I'm trying to be good, please!"

He felt like he was scrambling at a cliff wall, unable to get back up to where he could be okay, where he could be a person again. A person who could make choices, choose to be better than he was the day before. Kane wanted to be better. He was ready to be better. He had learned his lesson long ago.

But he wasn't allowed to change. He'd run out of chances, and now he was stuck down here, no matter how hard he tried.

The hunter crouched, eye-level with him, and grabbed him by the hair. Not pulling just yet, but his grip was firm. "Yeah, you'll be good, won't you, parasite? Tell you what. If you're real good and get in the box all on your own, we'll only keep you in there for a little bit. But if you make us shove you in there and give us a hard time about it, that'll be your new home."

The hunter turned Kane's head to face the box. "Every time we're done having our fun with you, you'll go back in the box. And when someone wants to play with you, you'll come out. And when they're done, you'll go right back in, and you'll stay nice and snug in there until someone else is ready to take their turn. Like a toy. Is that what you want?"

Kane was fully panicking by now, bright-red eyes boring into the hunter with unbridled horror.

The only respite he had left was the time he had to himself between the hunters' visits. To have his cell replaced with this- the torture would never stop. It would be all the time, twenty-four hours a day every day for his entire life, a burning that never left. He imagined being taken in from a day in the sun, and instead of being allowed to painfully recover on the floor, being stuffed into a silver box instead, grilling into already-fresh burns covering his whole body.

"NO!" he cried, clasping his hands together desperately as the other two hunters tried to hold in their tittering. "I'll do anything! Please, sir, anything, please don't! Please don't do that to me, please don't make it my n-new home, I'll be good, please!" He sobbed brokenly, unable to contain his despair.

The hunter let go of his hair and gestured to the box. "Then get in."

One of the others flipped the lid up. The inside was just as silver as the outside, not that he'd expected different.

Kane wanted to curl up in a ball and stay in his corner. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to hide. He wanted to grab a stake off the one hunter who was still wearing his gear and kill himself, though he'd never be fast enough to be successful.

But none of those things were possible. He had no choices.

"Yes, sir." Kane forced himself to his feet and walked over to it. Purposefully, without hesitation. He didn't want to be accused of stalling. The only virtue he had worth anything here was his obedience, and he would hold onto it for dear life.

The inside beckoned him, every surface ready to kiss his skin with fresh burns that would plague him for the next month, as his starved body struggled to heal.

He touched the inside of the lid with the tip of his finger, yanking it back with a whimper as it seared, just as he knew it would.

If Kane was going to do this horrible thing, fit his whole body inside, he would need a plan. It wasn't hard to think of, and not logistically difficult to execute: he needed to protect his face and the soles of his feet. The former to retain his senses, and the latter so he could walk when ordered about.

He couldn't wait any more without being considered disobedient. The three hunters watched him with amusement, but they would soon turn to prodding if he continued to stare at it.

Kane lowered himself toward the box, touching he knee to the box's center. He wailed as he laid it down, his skin sizzling under the touch of silver. He held all his weight on that knee for just a moment as he maneuvered his other leg inside, placing it beside the first so he knelt on the silver. Tears rolled freely down his face as his shins pressed against the torturous metal, his skin frying underneath him, the tips of his toes just barely kept from touching the side.

The next part was quick. He ducked down, curling into himself, his arms between his face and the box's floor while his back would face the lid. He didn't touch the backs of his arms to the bottom, not yet, not while there was still space for him to hover. The top of his head did press against the side, his malnourished, patchy hair thankfully offering minor protection from the silver surrounding him on all sides: it did burn, but not nearly as bad as his agonized legs.

All but one.

He sobbed as he burned, the feeling of silver searing against his shins unbearable. "I d-did it, sir."

"Fuck me, I didn't think it'd actually go for it," one of the hunters commented.

"That's our vamp. We've got you all trained up, huh?" asked the hunter who gave the order.

"Yes, sir," Kane sniffled, the smell of burning flesh beginning to permeate the air.

He couldn't see, facing the box's floor, but the sound he heard had limited possibilities: it had to be one of them picking up the lid.

"Don't move," the hunter told him.

Watching his tears patter to the silver floor, Kane wanted to beg again. He wanted to plead for someone, anyone to help him. He was trying his best. He just wanted it to stop.

But he was already getting the good option out of the two presented to him. "Yes, sir."

The hunter placed the lid over him, more silver pressing against his back and squeezing him between it and the floor. His arms were forced to the bottom of the box, where they came alight with pain as well, stuck in the burning darkness.

Kane screamed, unable to help himself as he started to struggle, desperate to get away from the thing that was hurting him so much. But he could barely move, let alone put up any real fight. Any direction he tried to move himself in just made it worse. Hunkering himself down made his shins and forearms weep against the silver, trying to push up made his back singe, and he could never move enough in any direction to alleviate the constant, agonizing feeling of being consumed by fire.

"I don't think it likes it in there," one of the hunters sneered.

Kane heard one of them pat the lid, unharmed by the silver burning him alive. "It'll get used to it. Let's give it some time to get comfortable."

A click rung out, the dreaded sound of a padlock locking firmly shut.

He was stuck inside until someone saw fit to- "Please let me out!" he bawled, desperate. "Please, sir, I can't, it hurts, please don't leave me in here!"

One of them chuckled. "Just relax. You'll get used to it. You're right where you're supposed to be. You're lucky we're not making it your new home after all."

Kane wept as he heard the hunters walk away, leaving him alone in his torment.

taglist in reblog! part 3 of the AU i've been posting will be coming tomorrow :) i was gonna write it tonight but i just got so inspired for this and wrote it all in 1 sitting over the past 3 hours lol

oh and have some drabbles i've posted since #50!

canon:

Playing With Food

Blowtorch

AU:

No Escape

Bellamy Saves Kane 2

and some awesome fanfics that got posted!!

Home Sweet Home? by @whumpwritings

The Final Apology by @clickerflight

#kane and jim #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #whumper turned whumpee #torture #begging #multiple whumpers #sadistic whumper #claustrophobia #in container #burns #death wish #starvation #whump writing

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astraystayyh · 3 months

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this will make water non drinkable in Gaza and destroy any future prospect of agriculture, all in the midst of a man-induced FAMINE in which Israel uses starvation as a method of warfare WHICH IS YET ANOTHER WAR CRIME!!!! one that israel proudly confirms because they know they will face ZERO repercussions for their acts

#palestinians are resorting to drinking polluted water and eating grass #they aren’t starving #they are BEING STARVED #israel is literally committing war crimes daily and yet no one bats an eye #apparently the only legal thing palestinians can do is await death #whether through airstrikes or starvation #THIS IS WHY WE SHOULDNT STOP SPEAKING ABOUT PALESTINE #it is only getting worse there AND WE NEED A CEASEFIRE JOW #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #israel #west bank #jerusalem #support palestine #palestine liberation

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miraclecherryblossomsblog · 7 months

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From my reincarnated sukuna's s/o drabble

Tw pregnancy (reader has sukuna's kid), death of unborn child, mentions of starvation

Seeing all these fics were suku tries to impregnate us made me think....

What if at that time reader was like pregnant when they died? Like even after sukuna's sealment urame tries to save sukuna's s/o and unborn child but the moment he finds them its too late, both them and the baby are already to gone to save. They find their body in a cell outside the villages, already thin and dry(???) from starvation, since that was the only way for the socerers/ villagers get rid of them.

But years later reader's reincarnated and so is the unborn kid, the lil one being reader's younger sibiling now, but after they encounter sukuna the lil one's hair starts to change color by the few weeks...from its original color to a pinkish color

Ya'll see where im going with this?

#look idk if urame died or got sealed too #unless i find otherwise this is gonna stsy like this #i dont mind spoilers but just mark it if yall wanna tell me #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #tw pregnancy #tw starvation #tw torture #i think #fic?#tw death of a child #jjk spoilers #sukuna fic

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vyorei · 4 months

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Live coverage of the 17th of December 2023 has now begun.

Here is an amalgamation of news from the last hour, oldest at the top and latest at the bottom.

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eyeonpalestine · 2 months

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France and now also the US, airdrop some aid in Gaza, so Palestinians can be slaughtered with full stomach by israel...

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nerves-nebula · 1 year

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abe death #2 ! starvation box. :) im pretty sure someone asked for this but i dont remember uhh... ok bye

#nnstuff #tmnt abe #teenage mutant neglected turtles #neglected art #starvation tw #death tw #nnart

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redd956 · 1 year

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Vampire whumpee escapes but they still have the manmade device to prevent them from biting stuck to their face. It's painful, uncomfortable, and prevents them from feeding. They can't speak with it on even, or really move their mouth in general. The device is only fitted for blood bags to be slipped in afterall.

Taking it off without the proper tools and know-how is drastic. It could really hurt whumpee, or leave permanent damage behind, like accidental defanging. Whumpee doesn't want that so they're adamant on not letting anyone come close to their face.

But they can't just leave it on. Whumpee will starve, and frenzies will only do more harm than good since they can't sink their teeth into anything. Maybe by the time someone gets it off whumpee won't be thinking right, or haven fallen into lethargy before a second death.

#vampire whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #cw violence #cw starvation #cw mouth whump #cw death #whump #vampire whump #whump vampire #starvation whump #dehumanization whump #whump drabble

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whumpshaped · 5 months

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would you ever write a vampire with catholic beliefs? Who is struggling between his beliefs and his reality? 🍬🧠🍬🧠 I forgot my zip mouth emoji...Idk where it is...

so originally i wanted to write about isabella, but well, she's not a he, nor is she catholic (she's lutheran). so have this sad wet cat

tw vampire whumper/whumpee? i'm not sure what this man is- death, murder, religious themes, religious trauma, religious guilt, suicidal ideation, (self-imposed) starvation, self-blame, memory loss, abandonment, lady whumpee, noncon drugging, dehumanisation (of self)

It was cold when he awoke. The winter breeze bit into his twitchy body and made him curl up for a moment, but it paled in comparison to the ruthless hunger gnawing at his stomach.

His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar scene, but recognising the terrain wasn't necessary for him to follow the scent of blood. It was all he could focus on, torn clothes and the cold long forgotten as he struggled to his feet and began following the trail.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

He wanted it. He needed it. He had to have it, no matter the cost.

He didn't have the presence of mind to stop and wonder about his heart that was no longer beating, nor the speed with which he was pursuing his prey. He didn't think about the fact that he could see all too well despite it being the middle of the night, he didn't even consider that normal people didn't usually hunt. Not in a town. Not like this.

He pounced on the man without hesitation. He pumped the body full of venom so he would be silent, then drank and drank and drank until–

"Holy shit," someone said quietly. Then, louder this time, "Holy shit. Vampire! There's a fucking vampire–"

He bolted before he could've heard the end of it. He didn't think about the man he left behind. He ran back to where he'd woken up, collapsing to the ground as soon as he got there. He felt exhausted, he felt... dead. More alive now that he'd had something to drink, but...

He lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest. Nothing. Of course, this should've been more than expected, having drained that poor man dry–

Oh dear. He'd likely killed someone.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't remember a thing from before waking up, but the past few minutes had already thrown him for a loop on their own. He was dead, a dead man walking, and he'd just killed someone. And another human had even seen him do it!

He tried to take a couple of deep breaths to ground himself, but the taste of blood in his mouth negated any effort he put in. He was a monster. He was a murderer. He was going to be hunted and killed.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The scent of blood clung to him like a ghost, and he desperately wished for a warm shower to get it off. Alas, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a discarded coat on the ground. He should at least look through that to see whether he could piece together who he used to be. He didn't even... remember his own name.

And where was his sire? The bloodthirsty monster who turned him into one of them? Had they not even waited for him to wake up? Had they not cared at all about the life they'd ruined?

Touching the coat brought back memories of his last minutes, the way the vampire had slipped it off his shoulders and threw it on the ground. He remembered being dazed and helpless, baring his neck for the demon to feast on. At the time, it seemed like the most important thing in the world, to be able to feed them.

He looked through the pockets and found an ID for Jude Flanagan, born 1998. The picture was... him? He gingerly touched his own face, as though his fingers could ever work as well as a mirror. Was he really the Jude on the card?

He was. His fingers brushed against the cloth of an eye patch, the same one the man on the photo was wearing. More memories flooded his mind: his mother calling him, his father yelling for him from downstairs, the priest scolding him.

Priest?

He found a Bible in the next pocket, a small one. He dropped it out of fear, afraid it would burn his hands like silver, but nothing happened. The book seemed harmless, apart from the implications it brought along.

He used to be a man of God.

"N-no... No, no, no, no. You were supposed to protect me," he choked out, picking up the Bible again. "How could You let this happen? How– how could a vampire– why would You let a vampire..."

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.

"I killed a man!" Jude cried. "First You deny me Heaven, and now– the temptation was all I had! I couldn't control it! I didn't see a way out!"

He curled up with the book in hand, sobbing like he was the one to be pitied. Like he was the victim and not the murderer, like he was deserving of any kind of sympathy.

"I didn't see a way," he repeated brokenly. "I didn't... I don't... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... Please, forgive me..."

Jude never quite managed to get used to the hunger. Nor the isolation.

The abandoned shack he'd found was good for shelter, but it was not a luxury abode, and the little money he managed to scrape together every other evening while disguising himself as a human beggar was not enough for much. The coat had become his most prized possession along with all the treasures it held: the Bible, the rosary, and the wallet with all the documents.

He bought new things, too. Some soap so he could wash himself well enough in the river, some candles to combat the suffocating darkness. Every little thing was precious, bought with the goodwill of humans who didn't care to look too hard at the creature they were giving their change to.

Jude could've charmed them. He could've tricked someone into inviting him inside, and he could've enthralled them to let him stay. He could've lived a more comfortable life, with a soft bed, a clean bathtub, and a belly always full of the warmest blood.

But he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to take any of it.

He'd thought about getting a stake and finishing the job his sire had started. He wanted so badly to be put out of his misery, to be greeted with kindness and compassion at the pearly gates before being allowed in — but he didn't deserve that either. His life wasn't his own to take, and nor was his unlife. God would make that decision when He saw fit, and until then, Jude could do nothing but atone.

He took no blood from humans. He lived on the blood of pests and small woodland creatures; roadkill sometimes, when he got lucky. He hated killing anything, but at least it was allowed, or... or he hoped it was.

Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.

God had given the creatures to the humans, not the wretched monsters of the night. He could only hope and pray that his past humanity was something to be taken into consideration.

He was kneeling on the floor with his elbows resting on his borrowed bed, hands clasped together in prayer, when he caught the scent. A human. Was this the night he would finally be purged from the Earth? Or was the human the real owner of his makeshift home?

His stomach rumbled as the scent got stronger and stronger. His mouth was watering despite his best efforts to keep a level head, and he buried his face in the covers, trying to tune it out.

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

Jude was shaking by the time the human reached the door of his temporary dwelling. He stayed on his knees and listened to the sounds of the lock being picked, preparing himself for the blessing that would be his permanent death.

If only he hadn't been starving. If only the human hadn't smelled so good.

But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.

He lunged like a wild animal as soon as the door was pushed open. His fangs sank into the poor woman's neck easily, and she let out a groan as the venom took hold. Blood, so much blood, fresh, delicious, rich, so much better than the squirrels and rats–

Jude pulled back with a start, eyes wide with terror. No, no, no, not again, not again. He wiped his mouth and even his tongue with the back of his hand, trying to get rid of the proof of his sin. The woman was still alive, letting out soft sounds of satisfaction as she lay there.

Her neck was still bleeding. He ought to close the wounds.

Jude licked his lips, then took a step backwards. No, he wouldn't lick her. Hadn't he done enough damage? He could– he could find something to bandage her with–

In truth, he didn't trust himself. There was no telling whether he'd have the self-control to stop for a second time, were he to get that close to her neck again.

"Don't you want a little more?" she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I'm still bleeding so much... You don't want to waste it, do you?"

There was a mask covering the lower half of her face, and judging from that and the all black attire, she must've been a hunter. This woman could've staked him. God had given him an out, and he'd let himself be blinded by his selfish hunger.

"I'm s-sorry," Jude stammered, quickly rummaging through all his belogings to find at least a band-aid. "I'll, I'll help you– I'll patch you up, I just need a moment–"

"Can't you lick the wounds closed?" She got to her feet and ventured further into the cabin, grabbing onto the back of his shirt to steady herself and making him flinch. "There's so much blood... Is the flavour not to your liking?"

Jude spun around, and found himself trapped between the wall and his victim. She pulled her mask down and gave him a smile, eyes sparkling with unabashed want.

"You don't want this," he choked out. The smell was so strong. She was so close. She was offering, if only because of the venom, but she was offering nonetheless.

"Oh, but I do. I want it so badly."

Jude stopped breathing entirely, closing his eyes for a moment to think. "What's your name?"

"Pia Gravenor, Master."

"D-don't call me that, please."

"I can call you whatever you want, sir, if you just spare me one more bite..." Jude's eyes snapped open when she grabbed his hand and guided it to the wound, pressing his fingers against her skin slick with blood. "The bleeding isn't stopping anyway..."

He swallowed hard, and her smile widened. She was so desperate for just a bit more venom. He could give that to her, and close the wound after. He could take just one more sip. Just one more.

He was leaning in before he could fully process that he was doing it, lapping up the spilled blood trickling down her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and kept him there, murmuring soft reassurances and pleas for him to bite again.

Please, forgive me. I'm so hungry. I've been hungry for so long.

Let me have a full meal, just this once.

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