Iced buns, but the icing is just on one end and is red

I think theres a need for another tent adding on to womb tomb out the back

Also bigger area can be for women with menstraul camps needing support to come and relax use hot water bottle chat get advise from vamps

To buyer slighty bigger black tent takes funding so we have a new tent so our blue gazbo has been used as vamp camp could be use until funding for extra vamp black tent

But also need to look at funding for vamp merch

Think vamps needs to become a charity of some kind so to apply for funding ?????

Art

Menstrual health

Festivals

Tips

Surgery

Stories

Pregnancy

Charities

Activism

Pain relief

Sexual health

Mental health

Need a hug? Emotional support

Domestic abuse

Dietary

Historical

Cultural

I have the design ready to go

Irise (who I work for, educational materials, backing)

Days for girls (doing projects with, donations)

Pads on a roll (doing projects with, donations)

Bloody good period (educational materials, keen to do projects)

Hey Girls (donations)

Love your period (support, keen to do projects)

have printed moon calendars that have 12 different month vamp photos maybe do two vamp photo shoots with northern vamps and southern and use best festival group photos of vamps

T shirts

BALTER FOREVER

• They are currently trying to get some portaloos made with the dispensers (same as toilet roll holders you get in portaloos but a bit bigger) and trying to make it a thing in the American festival scene

• They are making me a dispenser with our bat mooncup logo on it for the venue

• They want to collab with us, I'm having a meeting with the team in America to work on a vampire performance promoting them, they said they would fund this if it goes ahead. There is potential of it happening in America, we need to work this out when I talk to them.

395

Chelsea

Stag and hounds

Reclaiming your period- create your own celebration

Menstrual cycles for couples

Menstrual collages

I am also talking to another friend who runs another witchcraft museum and am going to ask about the potential of doing the same there.

Features including:

Forums

Period tracker

Moon phase calendar

Diet tracker

'How to use' - products and plants

We are currently thinking about how this could work as we don't want to be in charge of waste management so maybe we secure funding/get festivals to put 2 toilets by us and we install the dispensers? Something to discuss.

zine/social media report each 28 days on all things going on in the menstrual world

Could be a post of slides?

Also looking into making a booklet with lots of information, art, photos etc.

I have some professional photos from a shoot already but would like to do 1 or 2 more shoots with more of the vampires so it's more varied (Maybe have ones for the months so June could be a hot vampire in the shade, Halloween one for October, menstrual fertility ritual for May etc.)

This space can also be used to sell merch.

Need to look into the rules around selling these things and not becoming 'traders' in the eyes of the festivals as we don't want to have to pay for a pitch. Most small festivals will fine with us doing this.

Long before they called me Scarlott Bloodfade, I was simply the housekeeper.

By candlelight, I moved through ancient halls, polishing mirrors that no longer held reflections, sweeping ash from hearths that never grew cold. I served my vampiric employers without judgement—pouring blood into goblets older than memory, stitching cloaks torn by fang and fury, always knowing just when to vanish into shadow before the hunger took hold.

But behind all that quiet obedience, my own body was turning against me.

Breast cancer—mortal, cruel—crept through my flesh like ivy through old stone. I told no one. Not at first. I wore my pain behind a stitched-tight smile, endured the sterile halls, the scalpels, the burn of medicine meant to save me. I bore it all in secret. But the cure, if you can call it that, had a price. My moon ceased to rise. The river of my womanhood ran dry. Menopause took me early, sudden, and brutally.

I could have faded then. I almost did. Just another human domestic to the vampires slipping quietly into death.

But they saw me.

The elders—ancient and pitiless to most—looked past my silence. They saw what I had endured, what I had become. And when I finally spoke—raw, tired, but unbroken—they listened.

And they chose.

They didn’t let me die.

They turned me.

Fang, fire, and the old rites brought me back—not as some tragic waif in velvet and fang, but as something rarer, darker: a menopausal vampire.

Blood no longer visited me by nature… so I craved it more deeply. Not from weakness, but from something purer. I did not feed to survive instead To illuminate. To protect.

Now I walk as Scarlot Bloodfade, my name carved from shadow and survival. My scars gleam beneath velvet and lace—not shame, but testament. Among the Period Vampires, I am the eldest in mortal years, yet the youngest in undeath. They look to me—these fledglings who still bleed—as mother, as mentor, as mischief-maker in the dark.

They come to me—backstage, in tents, in the hush between music and moonlight—nervous, aching, unsure if they can ask. And I meet them with a crooked grin and eyes that have seen the very worst… and endured.

“Bleed if you must,” I tell them, slipping a heat pack into a corset, “but never bleed alone.”

 I am the matron for 

the ceasing of bleeding 

and to help the still bled

Long before they called me Scarlott Bloodfade, I was simply the housekeeper.

By candlelight, I moved through ancient halls, polishing mirrors that no longer held reflections, sweeping ash from hearths that never grew cold. I served my vampiric employers without judgement—pouring blood into goblets older than memory, stitching cloaks torn by fang and fury, always knowing just when to vanish into shadow before the hunger took hold.

But behind all that quiet obedience, my own body was turning against me.

Breast cancer—mortal, cruel—crept through my flesh like ivy through old stone. I told no one. Not at first. I wore my pain behind a stitched-tight smile, endured the sterile halls, the scalpels, the burn of medicine meant to save me. I bore it all in secret. But the cure, if you can call it that, had a price. My moon ceased to rise. The river of my womanhood ran dry. Menopause took me early, sudden, and brutally.

I could have faded then. I almost did. Just another human domestic to the vampires slipping quietly into death.

But they saw me.

The elders—ancient and pitiless to most—looked past my silence. They saw what I had endured, what I had become. And when I finally spoke—raw, tired, but unbroken—they listened.

And they chose.

They didn’t let me die.

They turned me.

Fang, fire, and the old rites brought me back—not as some tragic waif in velvet and fang, but as something rarer, darker: a menopausal vampire.

Blood no longer visited me by nature… so I craved it more deeply. Not from weakness, but from something purer. I did not feed to survive instead To illuminate. To protect.

Now I walk as Scarlot Bloodfade, my name carved from shadow and survival. My scars gleam beneath velvet and lace—not shame, but testament. Among the Period Vampires, I am the eldest in mortal years, yet the youngest in undeath. They look to me—these fledglings who still bleed—as mother, as mentor, as mischief-maker in the dark.

They come to me—backstage, in tents, in the hush between music and moonlight—nervous, aching, unsure if they can ask. And I meet them with a crooked grin and eyes that have seen the very worst… and endured.

“Bleed if you must,” I tell them, slipping a heat pack into a corset, “but never bleed alone.”

I am the matron for

the ceasing of bleeding

and to help the still bled

Donations for a pre menopause SHOTS

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