Here´s all the masterlists to my writing projects and links to other important tags! Some stories might be incomplete, so apologies.
Updated (03/08/2022)
You came back a stranger
Albus is an Albino box boy bought by successful business woman, Zarai Montenegro, who orders him to hide his status and assume the identity of Albus Serra, her new assistant. His world will take a 180 degree turn upon meeting Robert Glass, one of his Mistress’s friends and the owner of Sann, a mute box boy with a ghost’s face.
CW// Human trafficking, modern slavery, dehumanization, child abuse and neglect, pet whump, captivity, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, forced mutism, mute whumpee, burns, multiple whumpees, scarification, depression, dubcon and noncon, self loathing, defiant whumpee, death and emotional whump.
Demon Angel AU (Albino whumpee´s fantasy AU)
It´s getting hard to track this thing, so here´s the compilation. This AU was born from conversations with @haro-whumps and a few anons about Angels that are treated as trophies by their Gods and the one who refuses to be only that and a demon who isn´t that evil.
CW// Body horror, hurt comfort, slavery, hunt for sport, multiple whumpers, burns, demon whump, angel whump, wing whump, winged whumpee, captivity, blood, slightly gore-y and graphic at times and branding.
Mareland
A white haired boy bows to welcome you to the magical theater where you can live experiences as if you were the character itself. When it´s time to close you´re guided outside by the same boy, so he can go back to his owner and real Master. An immortal magician the boy has no words to name his adoration for, but the man who shares his face trapped behind a wall he´s forbidden from getting close to, has lived long enough to recite how large his hatred for them is
CW// Body horror, chemic burns, magical whump, nonhuman whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, slavery, pet whump, broken whumpee, immortal whumpee, skinning and psychological abuse.
The Redhead (BBU) [for now only one chapter]
A young pet is bought to replace the one the Hearst family lost in an unfortunate incident. Nor the young boy´s new owners, who all have distinct ideas on how he should be used, nor the older slave with the eyepatch will go easy on him despite his attempts to perfectly fulfill his role as the new pet.
CW// Slavery, human trafficking, child slavery, multiple whumpees, dehumanization, pet whump, burns, child and domestic abuse, minor whumpee.
Scars for redemption
A villain who has a story of being locked in small places, a hero who forgives a villain´s life and a sidekick who finds intoxicatingly amusing to have a villain in the palm of their hand, have a try and fail game of wether or not people can change.
CW// Captivity, hurt comfort, angst, pet whump, creepy whumper, villain whump, recaptured, defiant whumpee, conditioning, mind games and dehumanization.
An old thing
The story follows Roahn, an slave that came to her new owner´s house inside a box. She then begins to tighten her relationship with the other house´s slave: Shy. A tall young man who has been sold a few times over. When their Masters plan for them begin to move into action, they have to be quick witted to let their kids and them escape a life of brutality.
I´m aware it´s incredibly fucked up and it´s not for everyone. If you´re sensitive to any of the next triggers, go with caution.
CW// Non Con, Dub Con, NS*W at times, dehumanization, mentions of pedophilia and CSA, along, slavery, human trafficking, forced breeding, blood, whump of minors, manhandling, creepy and explosive whumpers, physical and emotional abuse.
—
EXTRAS
Picrews
Illustration tag
Tattoo artist AU
Miniseries Masterlist
Sann´s Sign language analysis by @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi (thank you!!)
-FANART-
Sann and Albus fanart by @haro-whumps
Sann wingsby @haro-whumps
Sann and Albus fanart by @boxboysandotherwhump
Sann dancing and Sann crop top fanart by@boxboysandotherwhump
He couldn’t quite make the lyrics, but he knew by the sound of his soft singing, making company to that man’s guitar, that that man wasn’t Scarface’s owner. Owners didn’t have to climb through the window and weren’t allowed to visit their rooms at the hospital so deep into the night.
Nobody besides the doctors knew anything about Scarface. Wether he had a bonded, or how he had gotten his scars or how his owner looked like, were questions left unanswered as he always was completely silent. Maybe talking was beaten out of him. Wouldn’t be the first time they heard that happened to another Pet, they had all thought. So, the pet stayed still on his hiding. Watching the pair from faraway and wondering, what kind of bond could make someone fault to their training, just so, there was not even a hint of fear, or doubt, when he sang along to his music? Who was that man to Scarface that he allowed himself to be so...vulnerable?
Happy Valentine! I hope you are having a very nice time with loved ones. However that’s happening.
Oh, look at that, a chapter comic. So, I´m not feeling great with my art and somehow my hand allowed it to draw this. Hope you like it! Full thing after the cut.
Timeline is a few weeks after being rescued and before I’m fine
CW// body dysphoria, noncon body modification aftermath, aftermath of captivity, chronic pain, trauma recovery and emotional whump. Ask to tag!
Timeline is a few weeks after being rescued and before I’m fine
CW// body dysphoria, noncon body modification aftermath, aftermath of captivity, non sexual nudity, scarification, trauma recovery and emotional whump. Ask to tag!
Hi! If you’re reading this, I’ve probably passed away.
I wanted to leave this message to my friends and followers before I go.
I can’t thank you enough for the support all of you gave me in the duration that this blog was created. That I could share my stories with you and read yours was something that kept me alive and well.
The friends I made here always will be one of the most important things in my life and I hope this news doesn’t discourage you from keeping on. You were in no shape or form, the reason leading to my decision. I will come back and bite you if you ever find yourself wondering something like that. This is a threat.
Hahaha.
In any case, I´m also sorry for not finishing the stories I left behind.
I truly believe they should have a happy ending. But maybe, just like myself, some stories are cut short because of life. I will leave the real ending to You came back a stranger to publish after this.
I´m sorry its gonna be a little convoluted and without context, but I hope its of your liking!
I have never liked the idea of leaving things behind to be remembered by. But I hope, this last gift from me to you is enough.
I´m very sorry for this. I hope you can forgive me.
Here’s the epilogue to The ties leading back to you, which should have been the second book. Thank you everyone for reading! It truly was very much appreciated.
CW// Fluff, aftermath of torture.
The small island that received them hadn’t changed so much in eight years. Living in the furthest point from downtown didn’t help either, but for the couple and their dog, the solitude of the woods was a blessing.
Their friends at the city knew them as the Millers. Just a simple couple and their service dog. The taller one, professor Miller, taught physics at the local highschool. His students had never cared one bit for the sound of his voice and understood the white shadow behind him would come to translate for them when the days became cold and dry.
The shadow, professor Miller’s husband, was a house husband and barely interacted with people unless it was to expose his works at the local gallery or to paint a mural for the new stablishments. Wherever you looked, surely you would find a few brush strokes made by professor Miller’s husband.
Despite their secrecy, the townspeople never dared to pry beyond what would be socially acceptable. Many in the town had their own secrets to keep, possibly, the same the couple had.
In a show of don’t ask, don’t tell, the town lived in harmony.
Nobody asked what had happened to the people living in the cottage they had built themselves by the cliff.
Inside that house, in the studio, an albino man finished painting the commissioned artwork for an old friend. Taking a sip of his coffee, he admired it, searching for any type of imperfection before smiling to himself in satisfaction.
“Alphonse Miller”, he signed. His husband had laughed at him when he chose his name, but even if he was asked about the reason for that name specifically, he could only laugh and argue it was force of habit. Besides, the name he cared most about was one that didn’t need to be spoken. “White” in signs would always mean him, regardless of what name he went by.
After a long day of working, he needed some fresh air, and so, he directed his steps towards the backyard, where the last rays of light shone through the mountains and the lake. Sunsets were his second favorite time of the day.
“Come, Lisa,” he patted his thigh, getting the sleepy dog’s attention before both walked outside. The puppy was still learning the ropes of her job as his service dog, but after two, he was more than qualified to train the rookie. It slightly reminded him of his job back with her.
The man took a deep breath before slumping down on the bench, his eyes watching the sun go down before pulling his legs up to relax.
“Eight years, huh?” He said aloud.
He couldn’t believe that much time had passed already. It had gone by in a flash. When he thought of a reason, his husband came to mind.
The time they were apart had been like going through hell a second time. During those excruciating years he worried his husband would be gone forever or that he would pass before they saw each other again, but in the end, he always came back for him.
Alphonse smiled to himself.
He had kept his promise of getting them both a life they could be proud of. Eight years later, even if from time to time they feared something would disrupt their peace, if they were together, satan itself wouldn’t be able to handle their rage and war to get back their peace.
He took a deep breath and the smell of the sea and pine filled his senses. The come and go of the sea was his companion when his husband went away for work. Steady, like a silent whisper that everything would be alright. After years of work, he had enough money to not worry about it, and his husband joked he would work until his dying breath.
Nobody would come for them and they wouldn’t seek out any faces from the past that didn’t belong to the present anymore.
He swiped up the cigar box out from his pocket. One couldn’t hurt, he reasoned as he lit it up and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
It was so peaceful.
Had he ever thought serenity was something he could feel? That he deserved? Whatever he wished for, the price to pay didn´t often line up with what he got. But all those years, the life that was buried under the immensity of pain to the point of numbness, had found it´s resting place right there, in that small somewhere they called home.
Their home.
He lifted his eyes to watch the golden of the sky, the smoke from his cigar swayed by a soft breeze. The faintest hint of the stars wouldn´t start to come out until a few minutes later, when he came back, they would take out the telescope to watch the meteor shower he had marked on the calendar in the kitchen with a smile that dimpled his cheeks.
The man closed his eyes and let the warm, salty breeze of the sea fill his senses in one deep inhale, before breathing out.
He could hear the waves crushing against the cliffs, the soft rattling of trees swaying along, startling birds into a frantic flight. The musicality of the wind chime just by the door connecting to the backyard, had his eyes open in a second.
In front of him, a freckled hand extended a ceramic ash tray.
“You´re back early,” he said, putting the cigarette off. The other huffed before putting the ash tray away, unceremoniously dropping on the bench right next to him. The other leaned for a kiss, but he stopped him with a hand to his face.
“No kisses until you wash your teeth, stinky.”
Even when the hand left his face, the pout remained. “Pl-ease~ it was just one, I promise.“
“No-uh, you ain´t gonna trick me into that again. No sir,” he dramatically whipped his head to a side, the scar on his cheek barely visible with the last remaining minutes of light.
“Please?” he begged, grabbing his tie and then slowly dragged him closer. His lips opened up slightly in a second nature he had yet to forget before twisting into a smile. “What´s so funny, teach?”
“How long ago was it? That it was me pulling on your tie after work for a kiss...”
He hummed, carding his fingers through his hair. “I used to say I wouldn´t be really at home until I had it, didn´t I?”
“’Used to’?” The other man chuckled, a sound more like a soft hush than actual laughter. Gentlier, more gleeful than the first time he had heard it. So many years ago. Far too many lost with a sea that pulled them apart.
His hair shined like a golden halo when he leaned on him. Bathed in warm sunlight as he pushed him down into the sofa until their noses touched. The man wrinkled his nose at the smell and sneered playfully as he swung the cigarette package over his face. The sound too feeble to be as full as his husband had claimed it was.
He lifted an eyebrow as the defeated man put his hands up in surrender.
“Rules are one a day and one less kiss for every extra, Mr. ´I wanna quit smoking,´” he sighed, falling back into his seat and pocketing the small box in his work pants.
“What a faulty system,” he sighed, fixing his glasses. “Why does it have to be so strict, hm? Today´s our anniversary, can´t you make an exception?” The other purred, jumping to hug him at the waist as his slender hands snaked down his pants. However, before he could react, the cigarettes was already out of his pocket and out of his reach.
“Nope. Can´t do,” he mockingly swayed the package in his fingers as he turned to watch his slightly annoyed, pouty face. “Nice try, tho´,” he booped his nose with a giggle. The man rose to his feet, slinging the leather backpack over his shoulder before heading back inside. “Go wash your teeth, stinky!” he heard him yell from the kitchen.
“Unbelievably uncorruptable,” he sighed in soft exasperation, the dog next to him stretched with a loud yawn as she saw her master stand up with a grimace. Fixing up his funny knee before he entered the house.
He looked one last time at the sky, soaking in the smell of the sea before darting his eyes to the shore. Where the city started to light up and each tiny dot reflected on the water.
Peaceful.
The saline air, the dog at his feet and the man humming to himself as he rummaged the fridge to prepare their dinner were all real. It was not a dream. His hand gripped tighter to the door frame.
It was hard to believe. Sometimes, he had to force himself to trust he wouldn´t wake up crying, still collared, as misery swallowed him whole inside the darkness of a box.
He didn´t notice at which point he had closed his eyes until the dog´s whine pulled him back to reality.
Right
The house in the woods with the small wooden porch was real. It was their home.
The paintings and photos hanging on the wall were of them, of the kid he had raised like his own. Set right next to it, there was a painting from the dear, old friend that had commissioned him for years and a photo of him and his wife, smiling with the lake of their hometown behind them. To their right, there was another photo of his husband’s family, with his sister hugging her husband, set right next to the photo of a black skinned man, his wife and, of course, the ginger holding his brother’s son. Hawk’s long lost brother had found his home at last, too.
In his side of the bed, right on the nightstand next to his wedding photo, there was another frame of a photo that had two faces scribbled over with a black marker. One from the time he didn’t know it was his birthday. Covered with the photo of the albino woman and her baby daughter on her arms.
All of them, their family.
The skin the wind gently grazed was scarred. Old wounds faded and healed under the one and only shirt he now used, exposed to the world without shame. As the marks of a slave in his wrist or a leather band wrapped around his neck and the tracker chip in his hip were long gone.
The pride in his bareness, the naked proof of freedom.
Not tied or bound to others for servitude anymore.
Finally free to choose and live for himself.
The glass door closed behind him.
A few seconds later, in the house in the middle of nowhere, at their home, the other man´s laughter carried on like a wind chime. Easy, without any real weight.
►Sann, go tell Albus about how you think he’s way too damaged for you to love him now :)
He pulls his back against the hospital’s seat. Let his bangs cover his face for a moment. If you tucked them away you could see the hate on them. The broiling rage as he stands up and walks to the side of the bed that had Albus tucked in with tubes and a bag full of fluid a nurse changed periodically. He had his eyes open, but nobody knew if they were processing anything.
He doesn’t even blink when Sann comes into his line of sight.
For a moment Sann remembers his therapist. The last order was to get lost, and he did. Unconsciously, he had done what that excuse of a person had ordered him without noticing. He had fought so, so hard to acknowledge he didn’t have to follow anyone’s orders anymore. Nobody’s property anymore. Yet, there he was. Signing those words to the man he had left behind because he couldn’t disobey.
“Al” in the pulling out of his chest gesture that was only for them to use. Despite the shaking on his hands “You’re too damaged for me to love you now”
It took a moment.
But Sann knew what he had done the moment those red eyes slowly got glassy and a tear slipped down. Then two. So he jumped to grab his hand. Skinny, bony and nauseatingly light, before he rasped his throat to speak. Body free of the order at last. His only rebelling allowed was using the raspy voice he had trained to come out.
“But I don’t care” his throat was a constant fire. But it was small. Such a small price to pay. Although, he knew it wasn’t enough, and he hated being so pliant still. So. Damn. Much.
He squeezed his hand as he leaned to whisper on his ear, hoping his words would reach him. That were heavier and sincere to him. More than what he had been forced to say. Not noticing tracks forming on his cheeks too.
This is not a continuation, but kinda wanted to dig in how this one was like “oh. OUCH. That´s awfully cruel, anon” XD
CW//self loathing, broken bones, fucky mindspace of an abuse survivor
You know? Something I love and hate about writing Albus is how he´s such a whisperer. He´s a quiet person, but whenever something really emotional happens he will let me hear what he really thinks and it´s awesome and it´s very sad at the same time.
Just like in here.
Like, the poor guy is on a hospital bed, with a thousand yard stare and dead silent. People have come and go and he has seen faces he doesn´t know and faces he remembered with a sharp sting on his head, but he didn´t react at all, because he just doesn´t care anymore.
But when he sees Sann tell him that, he recognizes his name, the way he signed it, the person who signed it, and suddenly he was very aware of his broken bones, of the tubes below the blanket, of the cast on his arm and leg (which I didn´t draw on that illustration and just noticed later) He was made suddenly aware of the bar code artistically framed on scar tissue and why the dulled out black lines were on his skin on the first place.
When he started to cry was because, deep inside, he knows its true. If he could talk, he would´ve said something like “I know. I know I´ve always been broken”
Excuse my rambling, but there´s a few hints here and there of this behaviour and why he thanked Sann for loving him in “Love”. This kid feels like he has never been worthy of being Sann´s partner or receiving any love at all, so when Sann reaffirms him that what he feels is actually true and unconditional, over and over again, he can´t even believe his own happiness.
I wanna explore this better later, but let´s just say, Albus has a very sad view of himself after this. Which carries him to a lot more of shitty stuff and his own much needed character development.
Should be doing more important stuff I know, but I had been months trying to get the set finished and suddenly, out of the blue, my motivation came back to draw this.
I believe it´s not completely accurate but an effort was made.
I haven’t fully explained it yet, but after Sann gets his apartment and Al back, he wanna go back to study physics again. So he dives into the material and guides while taking care of Al, (who gets all exited for him inside because Sann has a plan for the future he wants to fulfill for himself and tries to help him study)
Although, Albus doesn’t know half the things he asks him and Sann notices it, so both end up help each other learn.
Unquestionably one of the funniest things I own is the draft first chapter of an evolutionary biology textbook written by one of my grad professors, in which he made approximately 1/3 of the figures himself in MS Paint with absolutely no graphic design skills or artistic ability.
I sat through this man's class for an entire semester. I got an A. I learned (this is not exaggeration or hyperbole) absolutely nothing. But I will always treasure these images in my heart.
He had been banned from teaching undergrads and shunted to teaching graduate classes, in the hopes that we would be able to decipher his mad genius ramblings. These hopes were in vain.
important addendum: not only is this a ratio but an INSTANT ratio. he makes a post recommending his cringe fail favorite novel and the forum users are going "not this fucking guy again" within MINUTES. it's beautiful we love to see it
Wait, wait, wait. You have an au of Robert being trained as a pet by Albus? Did you write this???
Can we see it???
Also, I would absolutely pay or commission art of this au
man, same.
well I wrote some of it?? but idr where I left it *cry* lemme see if I find it
.
Sorry anon I cant find it for the life of me, but like just imagine Albus holding Robert's leash as he walks around giving some goons orders but also, tying his pet´s leash to a table before he goes visit his boss and his pet.
Just imagine that Albus breaks down and Robert, conditioned and yet, himself, laughs happily at seeing him cry.
In this AU he has a punch bag, tho. So everytime, Rob sports quite the set of bruises and limps for laughing at his owner.
This is a bad AU for Albus, cause I´m sure even if he did his best to make it seem like Rob died or dissapeared, he would be found eventually. However, his reaction to being put in jail for all the stuff he does is nonchalancy and smiling at Robert who comes back only to taunt him. Ah but is cute, because Albus conditioned him well, and just a few words later has him back on his knees even if there´s a glass wall between them.
Albus would be the type of whumper who would laugh and degrade him so much. He was so obedient, to him, he was always rewarding him, did he forget? It's alright. But he should get somewhere safe if he truly wants to forget that time. He wont be in jail that long and he will sure as hell get his favorite punching bag back the moment he's out and oh, he will make up for the lost time.
Also, Robert most want that, or why would he go back every week?
Are you by any chance still doing the ask game from a few days ago?
Because if so, I'd like to cut Robert's vocal cords and make him watch Sann and Albus talk via sign language 😎
Ooooh wonderful
I can see Sann passing his fingers over the scars. Hovering over them before slowly pressing harder and harder. Memories of him doing it to him resurfacing and blocking his sight. He only steps back because he starts to choke.
I can imagine the surprise of watching Sann talking. As if he had managed to fool him into thinking he had taken his speaking and had the audacity to find his own voice.
The look Albus would give him tho. The grin he would have when Robert tries to curse and only silly whimpers come out.
He wouldn’t be as careful as Sann. Oh no, he would simply squeeze his throat trying to crush his windpipe before letting go and telling him in both, sign language and speaking, almost in a growl, that speaking is forbidden from now on. They’re just making sure he understands breaking the rules won’t be permitted nor tolerated.
can´t stop the need and want I have for a whumper looking down at their whumpee but not in a nonchalant way. In a way their face is missing emotions as they carry an interrogation, there´s no snark, but the sterile atmosphere of things done directly for the outcome. Whumpee might be heaving from the methods used to bring them into interrogation, slurring words from a mouth now missing a few teeth and licking blood leaking in from a busted lip but whumper cares nothing about that.
They are here to do their job and they will be gone the second is done.
It´s their bluntness that makes whumpee calm down. They just have to answer questions and they won´t be hurt any further if they answer. It seems there´s no wrong answer, they only need to give them just enough context to see them scribble away something on their notebook.
It´s only a moment of contemplative silence before whumper stands up and thanks whumpee for their cooperation. Pocketing their notebook as they move to the door.
Whumper doesn´t have to order their henchmen to clean up. They know their boss doesn´t waste words in obvious matters so once the door closes, the sound of a gunshot, of an aborted cry, drowns in the silence of a corridor full of attentive henchmen. Terrified to even breathe the wrong way in their prescence.
To whumper, this fear is irrational. They have nothing to fear as long as they keep being useful.
