Febuwhump Day 23: Environmental Whump (alt prompt)
@febuwhump
Fandom: OCs (Cerrin of Pyrea)
Content: Male whumpee, male whumpers, multiple whumpers, exposed to the elements, tied up in a storm
Warning: Suicidal ideation
Words: 1,700 (oooh nice round number)
Note: Follow-up to Day 10.
As Cerrin was dragged to his feet, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning in pain from the way the lashes from the whip were stretched and twisted. He could feel blood trickling down his back as he collapsed against one of the guards, unable to stand under his own power.
“Take him to the balcony,” Gadric said. “He can spend the night there.”
The guards grabbed Cerrin by the shoulders and dragged him out of the room, and Cerrin couldn’t even find the strength to try and walk for himself. He was still cursing himself for his failed assault on Gadric, and walking under his own power toward more torture was more involved than he cared to be just then.
They dragged him down a hallway, then up a flight of stairs, around a corner, and up another flight, and finally through a large set of double doors. Cerrin could see ornate tile beneath his feet, as he was dragged across what seemed to be a large room. He looked up to see that it was, a long, wide room that opened on one end to a balcony overlooking the ocean. On that balcony were two wooden posts, with shackles hanging from them.
The guards reached the posts and released him, and he collapsed to the floor. The railing was not high, and even from his half-kneeling position he could see that he was high above the water, at the top of the sheer cliffs that dropped perhaps sixty feet down to the ocean below on most sides of the Grim Isle. Far below, he could barely make out the shape of the razor-sharp rocks that surrounded the island, indistinct among the white-crested waves that broke on the base of the cliffs. A rotting shipwreck could be seen, far away, where some vessel had run afoul of those rocks, the mast broken in half, the sails tattered rags fluttering in the wind.
The sky was grey and overcast, and Cerrin could smell rain on the air.
Rough hands grasped his shoulders again and dragged him upright and he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut against the burning on his back and arms. He cried out again as his hands were unbound and his arms forced to the sides, the lacerations from the whip-strokes that had caught his arms and shoulderblades stretching as they forced his wrists into the cuffs on the two posts, restraining him with his arms spread above his head.
As soon as they released him, he slumped in the chains, hanging limply from his arms, but he struggled to draw in a breath in that position, and in desperation he dragged his right foot forward and tried to get it under him to relieve some of his weight from his wrists and shoulders.
A snort of amusement from behind him was all the warning he got before someone kicked his legs apart and his weight jerked downward. He let out a helpless, pained grunt, already feeling the strain in his shoulders and the iron cuffs cutting into his wrists. The hands were on his legs now, restraining them in cuffs attached to the base of the posts so he was forced to stand with his legs spread; not too wide, but wide enough to be uncomfortable, and he could feel the strain in his thighs as he did his level best to pull himself up and get his weight off of his arms.
He looked up, licking chapped lips as he met the eyes of one of the guards who was standing before him, and then he felt the chill of a stiff evening breeze on his bare chest and arms and the shiver that wracked his body left his head hanging limply again. It wasn’t even that cold, he thought, but the blood loss and pain and his lack of a shirt or shoes left him trembling.
Someone grabbed his hair and forced his head up and then something was pulled over his head. He tried halfheartedly to duck away from it, but to no avail, and a moment later he found himself looking at the inside of what seemed to be a brown burlap sack. He felt the mouth of the bag tighten as drawstrings were pulled, cinching it not quite as tight as the collar, but tight enough that it wouldn’t come off, and then someone tied the cords together at the front of his throat and condescendingly patted the side of the bag. They were probably aiming for Cerrin’s cheek, but they ended up tapping his left temple.
“To keep your face intact,” the guard said, and Cerrin let his head slump against his chest again, focusing all his attention on remaining standing so that his weight would not be left hanging from his wrists. He heard footsteps walking away, and then there was silence, unbroken but for the gentle rustling of the wind and his own shaking breaths.
He was alone, so he didn’t put any effort into repressing the shaking, and a moment later he found himself crying, gasping for breath and letting out great heaving sobs into the bag on his head. He was in so much pain, he had been restrained in a way that was designed to be uncomfortable, it was hard to take deep breaths with his arms stretched out and up as they were, and he didn’t know what was going to happen to him next. He could do nothing but stand there, hands wrapped around the short chains that kept them tied to the posts, and cry, for the pain, the fear, and the brutal, horrible frustration that he could have ended it -- he could have killed Gadric, if only the guards had been a little slower to activate his collar, or he a little faster, or perhaps if he had opted to try and break Gadric’s neck, rather than strangling him.
The wind picked up and he felt himself shiver, sending waves of pain up and down his back, and a different pain flaring in his shoulders. Something bright lit up the fabric of the bag for a split second and then a moment later he heard the thunder. There was a storm rolling in.
And Gadric had said he was to spend the night here.
Cerrin tried to curl in on himself as the first raindrops fell from the sky, but restrained as he was it was impossible, and the attempt did nothing but send pain rolling down his back as he stretched the whip-wounds. Effectively blinded by the bag, the water hitting his skin felt sharper and louder, and although it was not falling fast enough to hurt, nor was it very cold, he felt himself flinching away.
At first the rain was light, just a few drops here and there, and long periods where Cerrin could feel only the cold evening wind, but as the storm loomed closer it became harder and more constant. He couldn’t tell if the raindrops were getting colder or if they simply felt colder because his body heat had been sapped by the wind. A shiver shook his whole body.
The rain was hard and fast now, and as the water ran down his back it set the whip-lashes stinging again, the torment multiplied by his desperate, uncontrollable shivers. And then, the first burst of rain that was really, honestly painful, whipped by the wind to hit his numbing skin like a knife. He let out a gasp of pain, and then another as it happened again. A flash, and then thunder rumbled close by. The bag over his head was soaking wet, and he wondered if he was getting enough air through it. If he didn’t die of the exposure, maybe the waterlogged bag would suffocate him.
Part of him wondered if that wouldn’t be for the best. If he died, he could not be made to give up rightful rulership of Pyrea to Hera. No one could. He had no heir.
The wind whistled in the crags of the cliff below, and he heard waves crashing against stone, or thought he did. The rain was pounding against his exposed skin, stinging and leaving it numb. He no longer felt cold, but his body was still wracked with involuntary shivers. And he was tired.
His head already hung limp against his chest, but he found himself losing the will to stand on his own two feet, especially with the way they were spread, forcing him to focus on keeping his weight centered on them. He knew that if he stopped his weight would hang from his arms, but he slowly found himself caring less and less. It would hurt, he told himself, but even as he thought it he sank downward, letting his arms take his weight. It did hurt, more even than he expected, burning pain from the strain on the tendons in his shoulders and wrists radiating up and down his arms and back and sending shooting pains into the top of his skull, but the thought of fighting to get his feet under him again was overwhelming.
An especially violent shiver wracked his body, and he could not bite back a loud, keening moan as it redoubled the pain in his shoulders. He liked being outside in the rain, feeling the water in his hair, smelling the clean air, watching the raindrops splash into puddles. How ironic, that it would kill him, for he was certain he would not survive this. Gadric had spoken of killing him, and this, Cerrin supposed, was how he was going to do it. He took a deep, shaky breath, and let it out as a desperate, pained laugh. Gadric still did not know why Hera needed his legal claim to the Pyrean throne. If he did, he would not dare make an enemy of Hera by killing Cerrin. That one secret that he had desperately kept through everything had been the key to his victory. He would die, but the royal line of Pyrea would die with him, and its people would be free.
With that thought in his mind, he slipped at last into unconsciousness.
the goal of my revamped mail club in 2026 is to help us reconnect with the real world. monthly mail now includes quests to complete in your free time. they can be creative, exploration outside, finding knowledge, self-discovery or just simply finding the child in you and being playful - every month there will be different ones 🪶✨
monthly mail club on kofi:
- print club (frog's ribbit)
- sticker club (cat's paw)
- combo mail club (crow's trinkets)
free shipping in a stamped envelope. in january, expect a light blue or brown envelope with a blue crow sticker in your mailbox!
I just wanted to make a little post to thank everyone who participated in Fluffcember! :)
I am super sorry, I got kinda slower with the reblogs in the later part of the month. Between university stress and my own writing projects I just forgot about it a lot. Now everything should be reblogged however!
If any of you made a series on Ao3, feel free to link it in the comments. I want to put them together in a post!
This account is mainly going to go quiet for a bit afterwards. However, I do plan to make a little challenge during the middle of summer. Because some people from the Southern hemisphere have rightfully complained, that it was kinda dumb to have all those winter-themed prompts, while they had summer.
So, to make it fair, there is gonna be a Solstice challenge with winter prompts in June. Because it is when the Southern Hemisphere is gonna have their winter.
So I’m planning ahead for the year - because if I don’t write in advance, there is absolutely no way I will meet a deadline. No chance. None at all. I’m despicable, so-
I’m trying to make a list of the monthly challenges and themes and make lil plans for them, and this is here so if there is anything I’ve missed, let me know! I can try and add it on, shift it around, etc -
And if anyone wants to request any ideas, prompts or stories for those months, absolutely do! <3
January
February
Faebruary - this I intend to do with a few fae-revolving stories, so if you have any gender, SFW/NSFW, monster or prompt preferences, let me know! I’m forever wanting to indulge in more fae
March
April
May
Mermay - again, like with Faebruary, I would do several stories revolving around mer characters (including octomer because I adore them)
Monster May - this would need to be ask and prompt based
June
July
August
Taurgust - admittedly I am quite lacking on the -Taur front, and I would write them... I’m just not as invested in them, which is weird because I adore cervitaurs, just not centaurs
September
October
Kinktober - yeah. This will happen and being honest, three fics have been written at 2000+ words already. At my whim instead of any list, but I would 100% welcome monster suggestions/kink suggestions (I am a strictly 18+ and no non-con exo blog, thanks). A kink list will be properly outlined and published nearer the time <3
Monstertober - I saw something somewhere about this? I think again prompt based or a random list one, but honestly I’d be focused on kinktober
November
Necrovember - undead monsters, like vamps, ghosts, zombies (maybe. I’m undecided on them), and probably other monster suggestions - would lichs count as undead?? I adore lichs
December
Tropemas - and my 2020 tropemas masterlist is here! I loved writing these stories and there are so many tropes I didn’t have time to fit in, so expect a return this year!
Today’s prompt is: Is your novel part of a series? What do you need to plan to make it all tie nicely together?
Here’s my answer:
No, right now, I am working on a stand-alone novel, not a series, because it will be chronicling only one generation of a family, for the most part.
In order to make it all tie nicely together, I need to do a lot of research on the historical personalities and events I am going to be writing about. I need to decide “character voices” something that will set everyone apart.
I recently brought a few books for this kind of research, and I am taking notes as necessary. I need to be true to the source material.
Once I am set on the “voices”, I need to do some serious writing.
That’s about it, as this is based on history, and the ending is already known.
