Hi! We're a system of at least 10. We all answer to Beryl.
This is our OC, art, writing, and sometimes personal blog. We tag some posts with whoever wrote it. "#mun blurry" means we don't know.
i will follow/like/reply from @xxvampkitt3nsnugglz
toonblr: @missin-the-fissiontons
COMMISSIONS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!
current projects:
bad things happen bingo
zombie comic
past projects:
breathe
matching scars au
oc summary 2026 (chrono tagging is broken, read in reverse for best pacing)
tagging system:
berylposting, reblog, or self reblog; berylposting being my original posts
my art, art, my writing, writing, or not art
#talking tag
reference sheets will be under #about ocs and casual thoughts about stuff will be under #oc rambles
any art that has one of my ocs has #my ocs, as well as the name of said oc, which i will attempt to fully list here:
brutus, robin, noah, alex, rose, maura, melanie, glasgov, smiles and ottoman, deja v dejavu, sprocket, fite, character fite, sona fite, larry, peece, jules, jenny
i gotta make a spreadsheet (for the queerplatonic polycule between noah, brutus, alex, and rose)
new thing im trying out: whoevers in front when posting will be tagged with "#mun ___" with the alter's name
additional tags:
art i hate - i try to use this tag instead of deleting for archival purposes
to redraw - stuff i want to redraw (not to be confused with just redraw which is stuff that I've done before or stolen from another image)
He heard Gigi's singsong voice before he saw him, looking up as the door swung open. He was leaning against the doorway.
"You into piss, love?"
"Uh." If his pimp was asking him about piss, he probably had a client for him. Didn't sound fun to him at all. "Not really, no."
"Perfect."
He was doing piss whether he liked it or not.
Gigi didn't address him again, just turned and walked away. Brutus sighed, getting up and following obediently.
The Client was well dressed, in a tailored gray suit. The leather on his shoes was well-shined. He was tall, much like Gigi. Between the two of them, Brutus felt less like a whore and more like a pet being rented out.
Brutus lifted his chin as the Client turned his gaze to him, returning eye contact. He squared his shoulders, keeping his hands clasped behind him.
Presenting himself for inspection.
"Treat him well," Gigi said to Brutus as he left them alone.
The Client put a hand to Brutus' back. He was guided to a dark concrete room, with dusty beams of light illuminating the floor from one tiny window. It looked like a decrepit prison cell. On purpose, probably.
They went to the center of the room, and Brutus knelt. The Client chained him to the shackles attached to the floor.
Brutus tensed as the Client pulled his cock out. Nerves at the sight of a dick felt strange, like he was 14 again.
He approaches.
The Client's cock is an inch from his mouth. His mouth should've been open by now. He opens.
The Client doesn't move yet.
Brutus looks up at him, mouth open, waiting, anticipation building.
Then it hits. He wants to flinch as he feels it hit the back of his mouth. It fills his senses. His eyes squeeze shut.
He tilts his head back. It's impolite to drop something a client gives you.
It stops. He looks up again, making himself as pathetic as possible, still holding the piss in his open mouth.
"Swallow."
Ugh.
He can do this. He's swallowed worse. Like his morning smoothie.
He closes his jaw, positioning his tongue just so. He swallows, quickly, reckoning with the taste only after it's gone.
He realizes he's looking down. He tilts his head back up, returning his full attention to the Client.
oooooh please please take his journal away and have us witness it
I intended this to be a short little thing and now itâs 2,000 words and I have a follow up planned lmao. Takes place a few months into Asterâs captivity <3
CW: captivity whump, implied past noncon, strangulation mention
***
Aster shivered where he sat on the couch, curled up with his feet under him to keep warm. He could tell the weather was changing outside, it had been nearly unbearably cold in the basement lately. Heâd had to ask Warren for more blankets, thicker socks, even slippers, all of which the man happily provided. Aster supposed he was lucky that he wouldnât freeze to death down here, unpleasant as the whole situation was, at least he had that peace of mind.
He briefly glanced up at the TV, one of the few movies he had playing on low volume, before flipping to a page in the back of his journal and making another tally mark under the title of that movie. Heâd officially watched every movie he owned ten times now. He then turned to a clean page, writing Friday across the top of it. He wasnât sure of the exact date, though he suspected they were nearing the start of December, but Warren had let the day of the week slip once a few weeks ago. Aster had been clinging to that ever since, writing down the week day with every entry in his journal, finally able to maintain some sense of time.
Heâd been writing in that journal every day since Warren gave it to him. He found immense comfort in continuing the routine heâd kept at home, writing a little about his day, his thoughts, making notes of positive things that happened to him. He used to make a list every day, marking down every single positive thing he could think of, everything that might remind him life was worth living, and as his mental health improved he started listing only one thing for each day. He no longer felt like he was clinging to a lifeline made up of tiny positive moments, but he still wanted to keep track of the notable ones.
-Monday, Warren brought me dessert. Blueberry cheesecake. Still unsure whether he makes these himself or buys them.
-Tuesday, I made 26 paper stars in total. Will need to ask Warren for a jar to store them.
-Wednesday, Warren brought me thicker blankets to deal with the cold. One of them has a beautiful floral pattern.
-Thursday, we watched a movie with dinner, The Last Unicorn. My favorite.
-Friday, Warren let me sleep in. I donât mind skipping breakfast if it means I get to sleep alone once heâs left me.
He still had bruises from the night before, the usual around his wrists from struggling, on his hips, but this time around his neck as well. Warren didnât usually strangle him, but he seemed to want to try something different last night- with no warning to Aster, of course. Heâd hated it, in fact heâd already told Warren once that he did not like it during sex, but Aster suspected thatâs exactly why he did it.
Iâve been alone all day today. Itâs been nice, relaxing really. Iâve watched every movie I own ten times now. I think Iâll need to ask Warren for more soon, but I need a break first. He always wants something in return and last night was too rough for me.
He looked up as he heard footsteps above him, Warren mustâve gotten home. Aster didnât look forward to his arrival, but he knew it was inevitable. He didnât find it as fear inducing as he once did, these days it was more like disappointment. He knew what to expect, Warren would probably bring him dinner, heâd sit and talk with him, sometimes heâd even stay and watch a movie with him. After that, more often than not, he would expect more. Aster considered himself lucky if he only had to put up with being fondled all evening. Any peace heâd found in the last several hours would be ruined, Warren always made sure of that.
With the weather getting colder, I keep thinking about the holidays. I donât think weâve gotten to Christmas quite yet, but we will. I keep thinking about my family, I didnât think that last Christmas would be the last that I got to spend with them. It makes me feel guilty, as if any of this is my fault, but I just canât stand the idea that they may be suffering during the holiday season because of me. I wish I could tell them I was okay⌠well, Iâm not okay. But I am alive, and I think that would ease their nerves somewhat. I would tell them that Iâm okay anyway. Thereâs no point in making them worry even more.
He continued writing, even as he heard the door finally being unlocked. There were three locks in total, he still wasnât sure if they were meant to keep him in or to keep anybody else besides Warren out. He stayed focused on his journal, he wanted to at least finish up todayâs entry before having to deal with Warren. He never felt he could rest until heâd gotten his thoughts, his feelings down into words. The door opened, and Warren shut it behind himself as he walked in.
âAster, darling.â He said, but Aster stayed focused on his journal, hastily trying to write down the last of his thoughts. âAster,â He said again, but he still didnât look up, he was almost done- and then the journal was suddenly ripped from his hands, his pen leaving a line of ink down the page.
âHey!â He cried, looking up at Warren. âI was almost done with that!â
âYou were being rude.â Warren said simply, closing the book. âI havenât seen you since this morning, surely it would not kill you to put your pen down for a second.â
âWell surely it wouldnât fucking kill you to give me a few more minutes!â He got on his knees on the couch, trying to take it back from him, but Warren held it out of reach. âItâs not like Iâm fucking going anywhere!â He growled, and Warren took the pen from him as well.
âStop swearing so much, itâs unflattering.â He told him, which only made Aster angrier.
âOh Iâm so fucking sorry.â He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. âI forgot my one purpose in life is to make myself appealing to you.â
âYou have a lot of attitude tonight.â Warren said. âIâm sorry for coming back so late, I told you-â
âYes, I know. I just donât care.â He said bluntly. âCan I just have the damn journal back now?â He asked, reaching for it again, but Warren took a step back. He looked at the journal briefly, before giving Aster that look he dreaded, that hint of a smile that told him Warren was going to ruin his night.
âNo.â He said, and Asterâs heart sunk. âI think itâs too much of a distraction. You could use some time apart from it.â
âWhat- a distraction?! Of course itâs a fucking distraction, youâd want a distraction too if you were locked in a basement all damn day!â
âWhat did I just say about swearing?â Warren asked him, and Aster groaned in frustration, he made one last effort to snatch it back but Warren pushed him backwards so he fell back onto the couch. âI understand that you must be restless, but if having it taken away makes you this much of a brat, then clearly youâre too dependent on it,â He said, taking the pen Aster was still holding as well, âYou can have it back when I decide.â
âWarren- you canât do this.â He insisted, sitting up and looking at him pleadingly, hoping if he just bat his eyelashes enough Warren would give in. âItâs not like I have much else to do down here, I sure as hell donât have anyone else to talk to-â
âYou have me.â Warren reminded him. âIt would be nice to hear your thoughts when I come home, rather than you trying to keep them to yourself in this book.â
âBut thatâs-â
âAster,â Warren said sternly, like he was talking to a whining child, âIâve already made up my mind.â He told him. Aster hated it, but his eyes welled up with tears, he felt like he was having something as fundamentally necessary as food or water taken from him. Warren crossed the basement, over to his bed and nightstand, and Aster scrambled off the couch to follow after him, his chain dragging on the cement floor.
âWarren, please, I- Iâm sorry, Iâm really sorry.â He said, hoping that if he begged nicely enough the man might take pity on him. âI promise, I-I wonât ignore you again, I swear it, Iâll be good!â He insisted, but Warren was unmoved, opening the drawer to his nightstand and taking the other notebook he had as well.
âYou will be good, once youâve learned your lesson.â He told him, giving him a cold look before he turned and started walking away, leaving Aster standing there, desperately wracking his brain for any way he could think to convince him. âHonestly darling, you need to learn to accept the consequences of your actions, youâve been acting incredibly immature.â He said, a few steps away from him. For some reason, that word, immature, flipped a switch for Aster. His fear and dread quickly turned to rage, his chest hurt as his heart hammered away.
âAre you serious- of course Iâm fucking immature!â He yelled at him, snatching the nearest stuffed animal off his bed and throwing it at Warrenâs back. Warren tried to ignore it, which only made Aster angrier. âMaybe you shouldnât kidnap a fucking twenty year old if you wanted somebody more fucking mature,â His voice raised even more, he was practically screaming at him, begging for a reaction as he threw a pillow at the back of his head, âBut you like this, donât you? You get off to this childish bullshit? I know you like âem young, just admit it you fucking freak!â He finally got Warrenâs attention with that, he dropped the books right there on the floor and whipped around, storming over to him.
Usually this wouldâve terrified Aster, but he was too angry to even care, trying to throw more things off his bed at him before Warren reached him. Aster had reached across his bed, grabbing a throw pillow to hit him with next, but as he stood up Warren swung his fist, punching him so hard he fell back into the nightstand, knocking the lamp to the floor. The glass flower shaped lampshade shattered on impact, but neither of them even registered the noise. He dropped to the floor, disoriented, he tried to brace his hand on the bed frame so he could get up but Warren grabbed a fistful of his hair, hauling him up so he could force him onto the bed. He climbed on top of him, straddling his legs so Aster couldnât kick him away.
âGet off of me!â He screamed, somehow still angry after that hit. He was hardly thinking anymore, consumed entirely by the rage he felt. âGet the fuck off me! I fucking hate you!â
âEnough, Aster!â Warren yelled at him, he slapped him across the face, again when he continued to struggle, and finally he drew back and punched him again, the sickening sound of his nose breaking under his fist drowned out by Aster wailing in pain. He finally went limp beneath him, sobbing and gasping as he gagged on the blood running down his throat.
âHa-hate you, I fuck-fucking hate you.â He sobbed, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. Warren roughly grabbed him by the face, leaning down so Aster was forced to look him in the eyes.
âYou need to stop being such an ungrateful fucking bitch.â He snarled. âRemember- everything you own is because of me. Iâve given you everything, and I can take it away. I thought you wouldâve learned this lesson after the kennel. Is that what you want- do you want me to put you back in the kennel?â He asked, it was more a threat than a question, and when Aster was crying too hard to reply, he dug his nails into his jaw. âAnswer me.â
âN-No!â He cried. âNo- no I donât- I donât want that, Iâll be good I- I swear, I donât want to go back there!â
âThen stop acting like you do.â He growled at him. âYouâre a smart boy, I know you know better than this. You know that too, donât you?â He said, and Aster nodded frantically.
âI-I do- I know better, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâll behave!â He insisted. Warren was still holding him tightly, studying his face with that cruel look in his eyes.
âIâll believe you when I see it.â He finally said, and he got off of him, leaving Aster to curl up on his side, still crying his heart out as he listened to Warrenâs footsteps retreat, only pausing once to snatch the journal and notebook off the floor on his way out.
workin on a rewrite of that piss thing (chained to a wall bthb) to make it more like just an uncomfortable situation because i highly exaggerated how traumatizing dubcon piss play would be for brutus in particular
my wife with her plushies: oh noooo my ducky fell on the floor... im so sorry ducky....
me with my plushies: pilly likes being on the floor. its enrichment for her. she loves to go there while im sleeping and sometimes i put her there myself just because
As much as Warren tells Aster he loves him he definitely does also see him as a sex slave. He has complete and total control over him, Aster can say no but thereâs no consequences if he doesnât listen. He gets to finally act out every fantasy heâs ever had about him, he gets to use him as a sort of test subject for toys and kinks, more so interested in seeing how he reacts than anything else.
big fan of the listless dissociated look that whumpees have after something that causes incredible pain (whether emotional or physical just a Lot of it) - when their eyes are focused on nothing and their mouth is a little open and maybe they're covered in blood and they're limp and just move with whoever is pulling them up rather than actually using any of their own strength. when blinking is the only acknowledgement they can give that they can even hear or understand what's going on. when they aren't even crying because that would take too much energy. they're just... tired. empty. dazed. yeah. big fan
