clockworknightmares reblogged
@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi suggested "possessive whumper"
my instant thought was "marking/branding as property", so here we are!
clockworknightmares reblogged
Anonymous asked:
......Poke with iron.
OUCH!!!!
are we not gonna discuss the absolute horror that would be a white-hot branding iron?
👀 yes LET’S DISCUSS BRANDING FAE WITH IRON
Laughs nervously
Branding a fae with iron eh?
Glances anxiously at wip
Who would ever do such a cruel thing
Shoves doc under bed
So evil.
drags doc out from under bed
hugs ur wip
places it gently back in bed
sleep well and grow fast little wip i believe in u
anyone else read that in Zira’s voice? Just me?
in this house we love support and nourish little whump whips WHOOPS I MEANT WIPS and raise them up to be the best evil villains ever
hehe :3
clockworknightmares reblogged
Anonymous asked:
can I please request some centaur whump ideas?
centaur whump!
brand them. livid, raw symbols of ownership on their flank, their lower shoulders, between their upper shoulderblades, their chest. multiple brands, burnt over, scarred out by knife and whip marks, telling a broken story of capture and recapture, ownership and escape.
clockworknightmares reblogged
untilthepainstarts-deactivated2
@pumpkin-spice-whump-latte ilu. It’s canon now. *finger guns*
Tws: Branding. Collaring. Just all ‘round mother-effing creepiness. This is short, but heavy.
“I don’t want you to think this is some kind of a punishment. It’s not.”
Isn’t it? Lev said around the leather bit, the sides of his nose wrinkling. It wasn’t too tight, necessarily, just firm, but it was still making his jaw ache. Far be it from Martin to let one of his soliloquies be interrupted.
“No. It’s not punishment, because that would mean I didn’t approve of your behaviour. Or that I was trying to control you. Or something like that.”
Spread out face-down across the metal table like this was a much harsher treatment than what he was used to, the floor downright comfortable by comparison. Arms and legs secured by thick straps, he was tied down tight. Barely able to move.
It really didn’t matter whether he had his eyes open, or shut. There was no stopping Martin’s words as they crept into his ears, and stayed there, and stuck. Like flypaper. Such as it was. Lev settled for pressing his nose against the table, and staring straight ahead into the dulled reflection of his own eyes.
clockworknightmares reblogged
Whump Prompt #81
The whumpee is a blacksmith. The whumper, knowing this, uses the whumpee's own forge to heat iron rods to brand the whumpee. Taking the whumpee's trade and turning it against them.
Bonus if the whumper forces the whumpee to forge words on the rods to brand into their skin.
“Is it done?” The blacksmith jumped when the customer appeared in their doorway.
“You scarin’ people on purpose?” The blacksmith brushed off their hands, turning to find the order. Their words were ignored by the customer who stepped into the shop, shutting the door behind them.
“Is it done?”
“Now, now, don’t be getting’ hasty.” The blacksmith picked up the order. It wasn’t unusual, a branding iron with the customers seal at the end. It was the customer that was unusual, and the blacksmith was ready to get this fella off their back and out the door. “S’all done.” They turned towards the customer. “That’ll be three gold ones.”
“Heat it up.”
“I- what?”
“Heat it up. I want to test it.”
The blacksmith frowned. Reaching over to their desk, they tugged out a flap of leather and held it out to the customer. “I’ve done a test, s’as good as any of my work.”
The leather was ignored, and the blacksmiths skin pricked under the intense stare of the customer. “I want to test it.” They insisted.
The blacksmith pursed their lips, then turned with a huff to stick the iron into the fire. They’d hoped to hurry this customer out the door so they could get on home. They didn’t want to be late to supper again, their partner was sure give ‘em a chewing if they were. But now it looked like they’d be stuck here until the customer was satisfied the product worked.
They turned, opening their mouth to start a conversation but startled when they realized the customer had walked further into the shop, and was holding a pair of shackles, a freshly made order for another customer.
“Please don’t handle the orders.” The blacksmith bit out, crossing their arms. They were getting tired of this.
“You make these?” the customer asked, stepping closer.
“Of course.”
“They strong quality?”
“Of course!” Who was this person, to think they could walk into their shop and question th- “Hey, ow!”
In a quick move, the customer had stepped forwards, pushing the blacksmith into a pole. Their head hit the wood, and in their moment of disorientation the customer had their wrists in the shackles, looped around the pole.
The blacksmith was about to protest when a fist collided heavily with their gut. They doubled over, their knees giving out as they slid to the ground.
“Whadd’er you doin’?” Their words slurred as they gasped, trying to catch their breath as they looked up at the customer.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” The customer caught their chin in their hand, pulling the blacksmiths head up to meet their gaze. The blacksmith squirmed, uncomfortable under those sharp piercing eyes.
“No, no, I don’t know you! I never met you before last week!”
“You have.”
“I didn’t! I don’t remember, I swear!” They twisted, pulling their wrists against the shackles. They’d have better luck biting through the pole than loosening the metal. They suddenly regretted being so good at their craft.
The customer released their chin and stood, making their way to the heading iron. The blacksmiths eyes widened as the customer turned around, a long grin stretched out on their face.
“You will. I’ll make you remember.”
clockworknightmares reblogged
The whumper branding the whumpee’s back with magic symbols. With a snap of the whumper’s fingers, they could knock the escaped whumpee out, contain them, and wake them back up just in time for their punishment.
clockworknightmares reblogged
He’s dumped unceremoniously onto the table, and Ariadne catches one of his skinny, shaking wrists to strap it into place. “No, please,” he whimpers, and it gives her pause. He knows what he did, and it’s unusual for him to try and plead his way out of deserved discipline.
clockworknightmares reblogged
Based on this post and the general idea of humiliating royalty (there was another post that inspired this but I can’t find it anywhere)
***
“Look upon your prince, and know you should no longer waste your support on him!” His captor gestured to where he stood next to him on the makeshift stage, adorned in heavy gold jewelry and revealing clothes fitted better for an expensive whore than a prince.
The crown prince stood up straight, kept his head held high despite the situation, despite the golden collar and heavy chains, despite the makeshift gag of a pretty sash knotted and forced between his teeth, he wasn’t going to give in to this humiliation. The concerned and worried murmurs from his people were drowned out by the cheers and yelling from his captor’s supporters, he never knew there were that many of them.
clockworknightmares reblogged
Whumper (as whumpee?) branding, outdoors
The ground is unyielding against their knees, the restraints merciless in their fervor. The whumper’s head is high, throwing all the scorn the gathered crowd brought back at them. They may be humbled momentarily, but these sheep, in their blind faith and dull belief in justice and mercy, will only fall prey to the wolves of the world. It’s merely natural order, and the whumper knows that their work serves as a reminder of that to a people grown soft and complacent.
The officer appointed to execute this punishment turns the iron in the fire, observing its’ even, dark glow. The whumper sets their jaw and thinks of more pleasant things. They will endure this, they will recover, and then they will find something - someone - to occupy themselves and ease the sting of the wounds upon their body and psyche.
The brand leaves its bed of coals. The whumper surveys the sheep watching this moment of humiliation.
The officer puts one hand on the whumper’s shoulder to steady them. The whumper looks past them, refusing to acknowledge the heated metal approaching their chest, refusing to acknowledge the miserable, snivelling fear crouching in their throat.
Their eyes fall on a delicate, lonely-looking thing at the edge of the crowd, all hands hidden in too-long sleeves and wary, round eyes. The whumper smiles as the brand descends, grins as it sizzles against their skin, and laughs as it sinks in scorching, fiery agony through layers of muscle to mark the bone beneath. Their skin blackens and shrivels under the touch of the brand, marking them permanently for what they are - a wolf hunting among sheep. And even as their body fails them, sagging weak and pitiable under relentless pain, their hunter’s mind fixes in sharp and relentless focus upon their new prey.
clockworknightmares reblogged
TAT theme: injury reveal
She sat down next to A in the medical tent. “The doctor tells me you won’t let him look at that shoulder,” she said lightly.
A sat hunched on the cot, holding the bandaged arm protectively. “It’s fine,” he said. “They treated it. It’ll be fine.”
“I’m pretty sure we care more about your well-being than the enemy’s medics do. You’re OK now. You’re safe. Can I just take a quick look?” She reached for the bandage wrapped around his upper arm.
“No.” He pulled away and winced. “Just - leave me alone. Please?”
He hadn’t yet actually met her eyes. Silence stretched between them.
“A,” she said quietly, “what did they do to you?”
He took a deep breath as if to say something, but only swallowed and clenched his jaw.
“Let me see,” she coaxed, putting a cool hand under his elbow. He tensed but allowed her to reposition the injured arm. The bandage did seem to be professionally applied, she thought as she delicately unwrapped it. There was even a bit of salve underneath to prevent the cloth from sticking to the wound. As the last strip fell away, she took a deep breath of her own, and let it out slowly. A circular burn, three fingers wide, fresh and raw. Intricate.
The enemy’s sigil was branded on A’s arm.
clockworknightmares reblogged
“Another defiant little act, another mark on you. Come here for your punishment.”
“We’ve been over this Quinn. Another defiant little act, another mark on you.” His master circled him slowly, shaking his head as if disappointed. “I’ve tried my best to teach you, but nothing seems to get through that head of yours.”
Quinn jutted out his chin defiantly and resisted the urge to plant a hoof in this man’s stomach. Let him keep trying. He wouldn’t be able to-
“So I thought maybe this time we try a different approach.” The master snapped his fingers and a bodyguard walked into the room, his hand roughly gripping the shoulder of El, his baby brother. He looked scared.
“No please- no he’s just a kid- I’m sorry!” Quinn said, fighting against the ropes that tied his arms together.
The master smiled in a cruel imitation of sympathy. “You should have thought about that before you chose to defy me.” He walked over to the fireplace and pulled a branding rod out carefully and looked over at the trembling boy. “Come here for your punishment.”
“He didn’t do anything! Please don’t- I’ll do anything I promise please!” Quinn begged. “Please sir.”
“Silence”, his master snapped. “I’m tired of your begging. Another word from you and he will get twice the punishment.”
El was shaking so badly he looked like he might fall over, but he slowly walked towards their master.
“Maybe next time your brother will remember his place”, the master sneered, before jabbing the searing hot brand against El’s left hip. The boy screamed and Quinn had to bite his tongue so as not to make a sound. He didn’t doubt the master would hold to his word and double the punishment if he spoke.
The smell was terrible and made Quinn sick. This was barbaric and so wrong and he had caused this. It was his fault that his brother was permanently marked by their master.
El’s cries had been reduced to sobbing whimpers as he struggled to stay standing. The master returned the brand to the fire and stroked the boy’s hair back. “Now maybe your brother will remember to be obedient, no? He wouldn’t want you to suffer any more for his sake”, he said, looking at Quinn the whole time. “Now would he?”