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Tunnels

Masterlist

cw: claustrophobia; Body horror; woman whumpee; religious themes and imagery; cult dynamics; 

The Shepherd had recognized something in her that set her apart from the other members of their congregations and their friends. Something that approximated her from the thing the Shepherd themselves were, and it terrified her.

She followed the Shepherd, the person she now knew to be a rotten corpse filled with all sorts of vermin. She let the terrifying creature lead her through a door behind the altar, sparing one last glance at Brea before she followed it into the dark.

“...Where..?” The entire complex of tunnels was dark, sparsely illuminated by old lamps and a few yellowed electric bulbs. But in this room, there wasn’t even that, just the deep darkness of the underground.

“Shhh. You’ll see, child” The Shepherd replied, seeming to have no issue moving around the place. Well, they didn’t even have eyes. Whatever guided their movements, wasn’t sight “You are special. Very special indeed. Someone we’ve been waiting for a long time”

She gulped, letting the creature take her hand and start to walk.

Very quickly, she was lost and disoriented, taking steps carefully as the Shepherd guided her through what seemed like twisting tunnels, but for all she knew, they could be walking in circles.

Breathing deeply the cold moldy air, her hand sweat on the  grip of the bony hand. She held on tighter, not even caring if the worms crawled over both of them now, slithering through her and making her shiver. She held the ghoulish hand of death, her only guide. If they let go… She might be lost in the darkness forever, unable to find the door that led her here.

Her heart beat fast, louder, her steps growing slower and heavier. 

She wasn’t afraid of dying. She knew death from a young age, she had seen war and fire and blood. A sword through her chest, a deep fall, a rotting illness… She could take those all and face them with her head held high. But this? This was terrifying. Being lost in blinding darkness, alone, surrounded by nothing but walls and walls of mud that closed in on her and grew tighter with each step, buried before she was even dead. It was like traversing the underworld, and she had the growing feeling that at any point now, they’d meet something horrible in it.

“Please… where…” She begged. And she hated herself for begging. She hadn’t when they burned her house down, when they killed her family, nor when they beat her or starved her. But this terrified her in a way nothing else ever had.

She tried to halt, to hold back, but the Shepherd didn’t wield. 

“Fear not” The rough whispered voice of death “...You are home”

“Home” She replied. What a perverse place to call home. Even the dead were buried closer to the surface. 

“You’ll find it more pleasant over time” The Shepherd replies, a hint of humour in their voice.

…The tunnels get narrower. She can feel the walls on both her sides as they walk, and soon, she has to bow her head to keep moving. But her guide’s steps are unrelenting, they continue walking further, even as she starts to panic. 

By the time she has to crawl, her knees and hand sinking on wet mud, she starts to cry. She doesn’t want to go any further. She also can’t let go of their hand, and be lost. The unfathomable journey continues, as slow as she can make it, even if the Shepherd seems to slither without issue through the increasingly narrower tunnels.

“Shush, child. You shall be okay” The voice whispers, doing little to soothe her “You were chosen. Thou shalt be holy”

She wanted to puke. If anything holy could exist here, she failed to see it. Even in the world above, the gods were as good as dead to her, they were nothing but doomed hope.

…Then, she feels cold. The walls give in to space, and she realizes she can stand once more. The Shepherd sings in an ancient tongue, not unlike the one Brea uses for her spells, and the room lights up.

In that moment, the few torches are the most beautiful things in the world to her, the dancing and crackling hypnotizing. If she could, she would grab those flames and hold them.

But the respite is brief. The room they came to is a circular room, with nothing except a large, deep hole in the center of it, too deep to see the bottom… but she can tell something’s inside of it. Moving, slithering, growing, changing, wrapping. She’s frozen in all consuming dread, certain that whatever she’s looking at, should not be there. It should not be at all.

And worse, she can hear it whispering, too. She can’t make out the words, but she hears it inside her head, a growing cacophony of hundreds of thousands of souls. 

The Shepherd, covered in mud, stands behind her, a hand on her back. 

“...You’ll meet our unmaker” The raspy voice tells her “...And you’ll rise again to their image”

 …And she’s pushed down onto the hole.

That was the first time she died. And she never told anyone about it. Later, they’d think her first death was the one that happened months later, when they tried to escape and her lung was pierced by an arrow. 

But no. That arrow… it was beautiful. The warm blood pooling on her insides, filling a space that always felt empty, coughs and wheezes escaping her throat as she suffocated on her lover's arms. Brea looked at her with wide eyes, full of love and fear and grief. 

She missed that look. In a moment of loss, she felt the most deeply loved, but now she felt robbed of that. There was no grieving the undying, no preciosity to a life unending.

But death for her, it wasn’t final. It was all part of the process.

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There's some mentions of trauma and past stuff and disordered eating but overall is just a pretty normal date. I apologize if it's not super interesting but they needed downtime I guess. Featuring Bullet as Cameron, and Red as Aaron.

They looked nice. They had a white shirt with a v neck, jeans and a new pair of moccasins they had gotten for their birthday. They smelled like Dave's post shave and pomegranate from the perfume he had borrowed to them. A big change from their usual look: tank tops or loose T-shirts, sport shorts or at most their worn jeans.  Overall, they just didn't feel like they deserved to wear anything nicer, it didn't fit them well. 

But Dave had insisted they looked nice, and well, they wanted to look nice tonight. It was their first date in years, and they wanted to make this right. Even if Aaron turned out not to be good company, Cameron would go home feeling proud of themselves for having tried their best. 

They took a deep breath before exiting the car. Their match was already there, his back against the wall of the bar.

Once he saw Cameron, he tossed the cigar out, stomping on it with the heel of his boot. 

“...Aaron?”

“Yeah. Hey” he cracks up a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

He's a very beautiful man. And Cameron really appreciates his style, composed of clothes that seem to have been customized by himself: a black leather jacket pierced by pins, metal spikes and chains, a cut up band shirt and pants completely covered in all sorts of patches. He has nice silver earrings, matching the piercings on his lips.

Cameron could also spot the subtle signs of their shared misery, both in person and on his photos of the dating app . Aaron had covered their barcode with a wolf, but it was still visible if they pressed their eyes. There was also the faint discoloration on Aaron's neck, from a too tight collar, and the little round scars on his hand that Cameron also had, from a cigar being put out in your skin. 

“How are you doing?” 

“Good” he replies too fast, then seems to think better, getting flustered “Well. I'm a bit nervous actually. I haven't been out in a while”

“I'm glad I'm not the only one” they smile “You are my first in… a very long time”

“At least we're on the same page” Aaron smiles, hands in his pockets “...Let's get in, then?”

“Ah, sure” 

Cameron steps forward pulling the door open for him. They don't really know if this is something people really do, but they saw it in movies, and it felt pretty romantic. It makes Aaron chuckle, so they count it as a win. 

…The bar also seems to have been a good choice. It's not too fancy, but it's a stylish spot, themed around rock. There's guitars and vinyl discs on the walls, neon lights, and 90s metal playing. The dark atmosphere is also comforting. They can sit in a corner and not catch too much attention, and the faint details of their past that still lingered. 

They sit, ordering beer, chips and fries. That's a small victory too. It's not always that they allow themselves to eat so freely… but today is special,  they won't surrender to those thoughts. 

“...So… how are you doing? How's life for you?” 

“Well. Can't complain much” they press their hands against the cold beer mug “I work with kids”

“Oh? Like a babysitter or a teacher?” 

“Yeah, kind of” they smile “It's pretty rewarding, but a bit lonely I guess”

“Lonely. Yeah… I get that” Aaron replies, sipping his beer, his dark eyes cast down. There's some old pain and hatred in them, although it was dulled out by time “... I'm a receptionist for a doctor's clinic. It's pretty boring, but it's alright I guess”

They smile. Working can be a big step for them, and they are glad to know they are doing somewhat fine for themselves. Not everyone managed to get fake IDs, or employees willing to overlook them. Cameron only had their job because of Dave, and frankly, it pained them to lack that independence.

“And… hm, what do you like to do for fun?”

“Well. I really like music” the wave their hand around “this bar was a great pick actually”

“I'm glad” they chuckle “you play anything?”

Their expression darkens for a moment, but they quickly shake it off, lifting the prosthetic arm with the metal grippers.

“I play guitar. It's been a bit different now. But I'm managing. I sing a bit but it's nothing special”

They smile. 

“I would like to hear it someday”

“yeah. Someday” they lean on their hand, poking the fries with the grippers. 

“What about you?” 

“...Been having trouble with that” they admit. Cameron found it hard to do anything. After years doing nothing but working out and occasionally watching movies or being handed a book or too, they hadn't really managed to find any hobby that made them feel… alive. Not yet.

“No, I get it. It's… weird at first” Aron sighs, casting their eyes down “how long have you been… you know. Out?”

“...Almost two years”

“Two years!” the man opens up a hopeful smile “that's… that's great. It's just been a few months for me. It… does this shit get any easier?”

They end up smiling back. 

“Yeah. A little bit” they take a sip of the beer, shuddering a bit. They still aren't used to the taste of alcohol.

“Suppose that's something”

“Hey. You seem to be doing well for yourself already. And… I suppose this is a good step for both of us?”

“...yeah. I suppose it is” Aaron takes a deep ragged breath, as if attempting to push down his sadness.

“Hey. Why don't you tell me a bit about your favorite bands? You said you like this place…”

From there, it gets easier, as the conversation slips into something a bit more comfortable. Aaron tells them about his love for rock, starting with very classic bands until some weird indie garage bands he found digging into internet trenches. 

He ends up putting some of them on his headphones, and they listen to it together. Cameron thinks they are noisy and a bit much, but frankly it's adorable to see the man happy, so they just enjoy it with them, almost jealous of the passion Aaron has found. Maybe they'll find the same sometime. 

And when Aaron tells him part of the reason he loves it is because it helps with the rage, it kind of clicks. It's easy to let all of those feelings swirl alongside the fast guitars, or at the heat of the drums, while one dances and punches the air.

Maybe they'll try that later. While so much of their anger has faded, they don't think it's truly gone. It's seeped on their bones, it sickens them and rots them from inside, like if they are some kind of monster. 

Maybe Aaron feels like that too and music became his refuge, and maybe Cameron will find something like that too.

“So… would you like to go for a walk?” Aaron asks them, after finishing his beer.

“Yeah… I guess so”

They don’t really speak much on their way, as they walk around the neighborhood, following a trail down a river. But it’s nice to have company, and to feel a bit less lonely that night.

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Writing a yandere relationship but shaking my head the whole time to show that i don't support the ideas of monogamous marriage or the idea that you can only fall in love with one person for the rest of your life but nodding my head enthusiastically at the murder and the holding people hostage to show that i wholeheartedly endorse it

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I'm afraid Twitter is out-posting us at the moment

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Brazilian Netflix censored the queerness on the summer Hikaru died translation. What a great year to be alive. 😑

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Need to bea hero that gets brainwashed to be someone's evil minion ASAP

Make me have an undying loyalty to you and give up all my values so I only exist to serve you. Make me a blank and obedient puppet or even better turn me cruel. Make me your new attack dog. Have me betray my former allies, maybe brainwash them too but only if I can still be the favorite. It would be so awesome. It would be so cool.

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i can’t believe loumand were doing voyeristic master servant roleplay on our screens. i can’t believe they did that for us and also daniel molloy. I can’t believe Armand was going round serving them both and Louis drank from Armand while he sat there moaning just to really drive home the fact that this was a sex thing. I can’t believe daniel’s only reaction to this was to think about what “Rashid” must taste like then send him to refill his drink.

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Conditioned Pet Whumpee

"Kneel."

His knees hit the floor with a thud before his mind could fully process the word. Hands behind his back. Head lowered in submission. Abandoning his hope to use the restroom before Whumper woke.

Whumper smiled. "I knew I would make a good pet out of you eventually."

Whumpee knew better than to reply. He trained his eyes on a spot on the floor. Having something to focus on made it easier.

"Make me breakfast," Whumper said.

"Yes, sir." Whumpee looked up. Silently asking for permission to stand.

"Use your words."

"May I stand, sir?"

Whumper paused for a moment, seeming to consider his options. "Go ahead."

Whumpee stood. His bruised knees ached. Demanding Whumpee kneel was one of Whumper's current favorite commands. When Whumpee failed to react quick enough, Whumper made sure he would feel the pain for days.

He made his way to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. Whumper sat at the dining table, scrolling on his phone absently.

In silent moments like these Whumpee's mind always tortured him with what ifs. What if he hd never been taken? What if he ran? What if he--

"Whumpee, what's taking so long?"

He quickly plated the eggs and toast. He took the plate along with a mug of piping hot tea and placed them before Whumper.

Whumper glanced up before looking back down at his phone. Whumpee turned back to the kitchen, trying to get a head start on the dishes.

"Whumpee, I have something to show you,"

Whumpee paused and looked back at Whumper.

"Come," Whumper said, still not looking up from his phone.

Whumpee obeyed, settling into a kneeling position beside Whumper's chair.

Whumper turned the phone towards Whumpee. "Perfect timing isn't it?"

'SEARCH FOR WHUMPEE OFFICIALLY CALLED OFF. DECLARED DEAD BY AUTHORITIES.'

Whumpee choked. It couldn't be true. It wasn't true. His family wouldn't give up on him that easily. It had only been three months. Three whole months.

Whumper ran his hand through Whumpee's hair with a grin. "Guess you're mine forever now, Whumps."

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Referencing a romantic photo from pinterest 😇

Ramsay and his beaten wife-y pet. He likes to caress his handiwork, and watch as Reek squirm from fright...

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EXACTLYYY 😭

Dude grabbed his wrist in front of all his friends and told him not to drink and keeps talking about how he's controlling and hates to be defied and wants to be called sir (to someone he's known for a week) and shows up on his apartment without being invited and it's all fine and well but the second the dog ears come up the guys a deranged sicko

Started reading a Brazilian whump book and yeah reading in portuguese is weird as fuck lol

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Hahahahaha dudes been giving massive red flags and what scares him off is petplay

Started reading a Brazilian whump book and yeah reading in portuguese is weird as fuck lol

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Whumpee is slapped at every point when they try to explain or argue their point by Whumper. They are hit so often that they automatically close their eyes in the middle of speaking. This has become an issue, after their captivity. Any time they so much as slightly stand up for themself, they close their eyes tightly and brace for impact. Caretaker is horrified and tries to explain that they would NEVER lay a hand on Whumpee. But they made the mistake of raising their hand as they speak and Whumpee immediately flinches and falls back, expecting the swift slap. The quick pain. The disorientation. Caretaker watches in horror. How can they prove that they would never hurt their Whumpee?

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Tbh why did we popularized orcs with being green. Things in nature usually aren't, especially not mammals. Unless they are like tigers who WE can see are orange but their preys usually can't see those tones so they seem green.

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I wish my cat would end the enemies phase and go into the lover phase with the neighbours cat already

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louis isn’t jealous he definitely is

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"WHY ARE YOU SHIPPING A VAMPIRE WITH THEIR VICTIM 🤮🤮" is. is that not the point of vampires.

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Datail — Ecce Homo, c. 1674 by Pedro de Mena † Agnus Dei (Lamb of God), circa 1635 - 1640 by Francisco de Zurbaran