Commission for Luca Maid's fanfiction~! Very glad with it because it goes very very hard
Maybe the 'render in greyscale, then add colors' method had more merit than I thought~
Social media + Commissions + PAPERCUT
I don't know any of the characters in this particular show, since I just came across this screenshot while scouting for titles, but I do know you ain't shit if you can't handle this sort of thing with nothing more than an annoyed expression and a quiet "ow."
Whumpee wakes up to Caretaker grumbling. They open just a slit to their eyes, watching as Caretaker cleans the bite on their neck. It hurts to the touch - and Whumpee predicts it will have bruises around it, like the ones they got from the first feeding. Caretaker’s eyes are set on their work, but they keep mumbling half sentences.
“Making me… And doing this to… Who do they think they are? We’re not swimming in money. Even if we were, honestly…” Caretaker shakes their head, but for some reason, Whumpee doesn’t see irritation. They see worry. “Whumper is getting careless, that’s what they are. They were always careful before, I don’t know…”
Caretaker finishes setting up the bandages and sighs, pressing them slightly. Whumpee shifts in place, uncomfortable.
“Ah. Sorry. I didn’t realize.” Caretaker says when they see Whumpee is awake. “How are you feeling?”
When Whumpee looks into their eyes, the memories of the previous night return to them with a bang. They feel something they haven’t felt in a long time. Tears climbing to their eyes.
“Hey. Hey, no. It’s alright. It’s over.” Caretaker tries to touch their face, but Whumpee slaps their hand. That sends a wave of pain up their arm. They grab it, realizing it was the one they hurt when they fell from the treadmill. “I’m sorry. I have to follow their orders. That’s the only way I can stay here and take care of you.”
“I don’t want you to take care of me! You’re just like them! You… You… You disgust me!” Whumpee yelled. Caretaker took a step back, crossing their arms, like they could make themselves look smaller. “I should have known. You just do this because they tell you to. I bet you’ll be the one to kill me when they’re bored of me.”
Whumpee expects Caretaker would punish them. Would tell them to not raise their voice, to give another one of the cryptic speeches about letting go or fear or whatever. But they don’t. They just look at their shoes and take in all of the words.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Whumpee teases.
Caretaker takes a deep breath, but doesn’t raise their eyes.
“I… I’m sorry. I am. They’ve been… Different lately. It wasn’t always like this. They’ve been… Careless. I don’t… I could never… I…” They stop and swallow. “I’m sorry it has to be like this. If I could… I… I know that my actions are wrong, but I have no way to stop them. When they’re here… I’m as powerless as you.”
“And yet you get to leave the cage.” Whumpee shakes their head and spit on the ground. Caretaker looks at it with unusual detachment.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Unlike you, even if I ever leave these walls… I’ll never leave the cage.”
With that, they step back and leave.
***
After their fight, Caretaker is a different person.
They don’t try to talk to Whumpee other than health related questions. They only come in with the meals, checks the bandages, sometimes checks Whumpee’s vitals and leaves. They always have a resigned expression on their face. Whumpee doesn’t know if it’s regret making them like this or if the illusion is broken and now they’re being themselves.
Whumpee can’t help but miss their talks, though. They quickly understand that, as terrible as their situation is, Caretaker did make it a little bit better. The more they think about it, the more they’re not sure they wouldn’t do the same to another human in order to be free of this life. Maybe Caretaker used to be like them. Maybe they shouldn’t have been this quick to judge.
One night, however, everything changes. Whumpee can hear the change in the Pantry. They hardly ever hear more than whispered voices and steps up and down. Now the underground of the vampire house is flooded with activity. Whumpee’s training tells them that it’s probably not a good sign.
When Caretaker arrives, they look paler than usual. They close the door behind them, standing there, their confused eyes going from one side of the room to another.
“What’s going on?” Whumpee asks, standing up.
Caretaker raises their eyes to Whumpee and Whumpee’s heart skips a beat. It’s an expression they’ve never seen before in Caretaker.
“We’re having a Banquet. And… You’re invited.”
***
Whumpee tries not to shake as their being conducted down the hall, past all of the small individual dining rooms. They’re going to the big double doors at the end of the hall. Caretaker is walking next to them, as tense as a wooden board.
Back where Whumpee was bred, Banquets were legendary. Mothers used to scare their children saying that children who weren’t sold would go to their house’s Banquet. But, as Whumpee was quickly discovering, Caretaker had been right. Their previous owners had treated them well.
The hallway ends abruptly, and both of them stop. Whumpee waits for Caretaker to open the door, but they don’t. They turn to Whumpee.
“Hey, I just wanted to say…” Caretaker says, their resigned expression crumbling and dissolving into one of worry. “I… I really did try my best.”
Whumpee’s stomach drops to their feet. This sounds like a goodbye.
“Does this mean…”
“They never did this before. They were different. Before you got here. They… They cherished their blood bags. I don’t… I don’t know what changed.” Caretaker looks at them and their eyes are cloudy with tears. “I… I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be you?”
Whumpee couldn’t say anything. They were about to throw up. Their knees start shaking, but Caretaker holds their elbow to keep them steady.
“There were eighteen.” Caretaker says, their eyes steady on Whumpee’s. “Eighteen before you.”
Whumpee breathes in and out, slowly. In a way, it made everything better. To know they weren’t alone, that this is just the fate of blood bags.
“You make sure to tell number twenty I said hi.” They manage to say, hoping Caretaker can’t feel them tremble.
Before Caretaker can do anything, they push the door and enter the Banquet Hall.
The Hall is different from the small dining rooms.
It’s fully furnished, decorated with paintings and heavy curtains. A big round marble table is surrounded by six carved wooden chairs, all occupied by a different vampire lord. There were no other humans on sight.
Every pair of eyes turned to them as they closed the door, ceasing the low buzz of conversation. Their heartbeat was probably like a lighthouse to them. Whumpee realised they’d just walked all alone in a room full of hungry vampires.
Whumper stood up soon enough, walking calmly to them and taking their arm. If they’re noticed them shaking, they didn’t say anything as they took Whumpee to the table and sat them down next to them. As Whumpee looked around, at the vampires that were still staring, Whumper restrained Whumpee’s hands against the chair’s arms. Whumpee just kept their head high. If they were going to go, at least they’d do it with dignity.
Some of the vampires were looking sideways at them. They could hear comments of “a human on the table? What’s next? A dog?” and laughters spreads through the seats. Whumper doesn’t seem phased.
“Comfortable?” They ask, touching Whumpee’s chin.
“Does it matter?”
Whumper’s eyes lower to the bites in Whumpee’s neck and they smile.
“Not particularly. Glad you could join us for the show.” The very sound of that makes their stomach churn and their heart skip a beat. Whumper’s smile widens. “Let us begin, my friends!”
Suddenly, there is music and wine being served. Servants come and go, giving out filled up wine glasses the vampires down. Voices get louder as they talk and laugh. Whumpee looks around, barely believing every second they’re still alive. What is this, a new way of torture? So they have to wait until they’re nice and drunk before they get killed.
Whumper isn’t talking to the others. They sip their wine with their big grin, waiting. What are they waiting for?
“Dinner is served!” One of the servants announces, which is followed by almost childish excitement from the table. Double door are open, revealing… The dinner.
Five humans are brought inside, in various degrees of consciousness.
“For the gentlemen that enjoy the altered kind…” The servant helps a human who’s clearly out of it climb onto the table. Their eyes are almost closing and they’re lolling from one side to the other. When they lie on the table, they stays there. Whumpee can’t see if they’re breathing. Three of the lords congratulate each other on the choice.
“Nice and numb for your cutting pleasure”, the servant announced as two others lifted another human from a wheelchair where they’d been limp. One of them removes the mask that’s feeding them whatever keeps them numb.
“And… A feisty one.”
A scream cut through the laughter. The last course was being dragged inside by servants, wrists and ankles handcuffed.
“No, please! I won’t try to escape again! I promise! I’ll be good! Haven’t I been good?”
This sent a round of thunderous laughter through the Banquet Hall. They were brought to the last remaining lord, seated right next to Whumper. They stood up, lazily inspecting their meal. The human’s eyes meet Whumpee’s, and they look like a mirror of their own. The lord in front of the human looked over their shoulder, to Whumper.
Whumper looked at each of the lords, that are staring at him expectantly and nods. Permission.
It all happened too fast for Whumpee to process. It’s like they’re back in the moment of their fall, everything moving in slow motion.
The lord next to them grabs the human by the hair and slams their face against the table. They let out a big scream. The lord leans forward and starts licking the blood from the cut in their forehead.
The lord with the unconscious human grabbed a meat knife and stabbed right through the middle of their meal. Whumpee jumps in place, fighting against their restrait. Their heart is thundering in their ears and the lord licks the blood from the knife. Blood spreads through the table.
A groan changes Whumpee’s attention to the drugged human. All the vampires who ordered them attacked at once. One of them has bitten the neck, raising the head off of the table. The other has bitten the chest, hugging the middle of the human. And the last one bit the middle of the thigh, hands crushing into the soft flesh. With their free arm, they’re trying to fight them, but none of the vampire notices.
Until the one at their chest does, grabbing the wrist and bringing it to their lips. The human is crying and shaking, barely awake but still terrified.
Whumpee’s ankles and wrists are already breaking the skin, so hard they’re pulling. They don’t know if they’re trying to get away, trying to help or trying to die by their own accord, but anything will do at this point. And still, they remain stuck in place. When they turn, Whumper is still smiling and sipping their wine.
“What do you think?” They ask. “Isn’t it an honor to serve us?”
The lord next to them had hit the feisty one’s head against the table again and suddenly they were a lot less feisty. Whumpee knew, in that moment, all the stories were true. Banquets were ways of getting rid of defective blood bags.
And that’s what they were.
They want to beg, humiliate themselves, tell them that they were doing what they were trained, that they couldn’t have been better. But their jaw is closed shut.
“Am I not a merciful one? I could do all of this, but I don’t.” They stand up, come closer. Their fingers find Whumpee’s pulse in their neck - which is not hard, considering how much their heart is thumping. “What? Are you afraid to join them?”
The drugged one is barely moving anymore, limping against the vampires holding them up. The numb one has new cuts all over. They probably will never return. And the one next to them and their lord are out of sight, though Whumpee could still hear the whimpers.
They’re afraid, yes. They’ve never been this terrified, horrified. Everything in their body seemed on the edge of failing: their brain, their heart, their stomach, their bladder.
“Yes. That’s good.” Whumper leans in, face against Whumpee’s neck. For their surprise, Whumper kisses it, so softly it makes Whumpee’s insides tremble. Why don’t they get it over with. “There is something delicious about your fear. Something… I can’t describe.”
Whumper’s fangs dig into their neck slowly and painfully. They lean one knee between Whumpee’s legs, getting closer. Whumpee can still see the others as their life is drained.
Something new arrises. Rage. They won’t die like this.
They revolt, shaking their hands and pulling the restraits, even if it hurts their recently healed wrist. They shake their head, trying to ruin the Whumper’s grip, but this only causes something to rip inside of them. Whumper simply retreats and makes another hole, this time holding their neck in place with an iron like grip.
With their last strenght, Whumpee screams. To the others on the table, so they’d know they weren’t alone. To Caretaker, somewhere in the building, knowing they’d now lost 19 blood bags despite their best work. To a higher power, to please interfere.
The others were long gone by the time Whumpee started feeling woozy. The other lords cleaned their chins, smiled at each other and left one by one, until there was only Whumpee, the corpses and Whumper on the room. Whumpee’s eyes are fixed on the human who had been drugged. Their face was the most peaceful one. It had been pretty. It would be a good last sight - or the best they could have in this situation.
Finally, for Whumpee’s surprise, just before the darkness that had been dancing around their vision claims them, Whumper pulls away. They don’t waste a drop, licking their lips. Their twisted smile almost burns Whumpee when they look directly at it.
“Hope you’ve learned your lesson.” They lean over and kiss Whumpee’s neck again. “I am nothing if not merciful.”
*general disturbance anon stands on a table, hissing like a cat* try me! *tries to jump for the anon with the vacuum cleaner, but misses by a mile and slams head first into a wall*
What did I say?
[Akutagawa, still seated underneath the table, stabs the anon with Rashomon directly in their appendix.]
Another game of ‘target practice’ . . . ‘Brilliant’ he thought as blood trickled down his cheek. It truly wasn’t brilliant, in fact, it was anything but. As Baelfire sat on the rugged floor of the cave that he made his home, he tore a piece of his pant leg off to use it as a bandage. Round and round the lad wrapped it around his right bicep to stop the bleeding from the newest stab wound he had acquired, He kept a mental note that he had several others that he needed to do the same too, including on his other arm, left leg, and right side. Just as he was about to tie off the first one he heard the sound of boots crunching leaves drawing more and more near to him. How was that even possible? No one knew where his cave was?
Instincts took over and suddenly Baelfire found himself fleeing further back into his cave so that he could hide in the shadows. As the person drew nearer, the boy’s baby brown eyes squinted so that he could get a better look. He was unlike any Lost One that he had seen before. He was blond like Felix, but grungier like a pirate. . .
“Wh-Who are you. . ?” He called, not moving from his current position. He was in no shape to fight, and if this person wanted to hurt him it would be far too easy. “Did Pan send you?”
You’re still awake? (I will literally never ask you to stop sending things fite me)
‘I’d let you say your goodbyes but if his life doesn’t matter to you then why would anyone else.’
What hour was it. . .? Riku had lost track. He promised Sora that he was going to go to bed hours ago but he never moved. He sat in the same corner in Sora’s livingroom for HOURS until it was nearly dawn. He stayed in the dark, his hands curling and un-curling against the carpet. His entire body was SHAKING uncontrollably as his mind replayed the words that were almost his last over and OVER again in his ears.
P-Please . . .
Just. . .
Leave me . . .
Dead . . .
His head POUNDED those words in his ears like a hammer as he shut his eyes even tighter to try and make the memories go away. He remembered it crystal clear, body and soul. Both remembered the feeling of the cold metal piercing his body STRAIGHT through. Both remembered the choking gasp he made as blood pooled in his lungs and in his mouth. Both remembered his soul leaving his body as he died so many times he lost count. Over and OVER and OVER again. It was driving him so MAD that as the memory of his body flying across the room flashed before his eyes, Riku SCREAMED in agony as he relived that pain all over his body.
“AHHHHH!!!!”
He should never have taken the necklace off but it was too late. If Sora had to be forced to suffer from the memories of their most recent battle together, then it was only fair that he experience the same fate. Even if it killed him.
‘You’re still awake?’
That voice cut through the dark room like a KNIFE, almost forcing Riku to open his eyes to peer through the darkness at his ocean-eyed boyfriend. His breath hitched in his tear-strangled throat, his heart nearly beating so loud that he could hear it in his ears.
“S-Sora. . .?” You’re alive. . .? Damaged fingers curled around the necklace so tight that they were shaking as they dug so deeply into Riku’s palm that it started to bleed. “Y-Yeah . . . Not for much longer. . . I promise. . .” A lie. The same lie he had told hours ago when Sora had asked if he was coming to bed.
x. @lightheartedwarrior | I will fire you I swear to goodness.
