princess-of-whump

[princess-of-whump]

Words for Skin Tone | How to Describe Skin Color

We discussed the issues describing People of Color by means of food in Part I of this guide, which brought rise to even more questions, mostly along the lines of “So, if food’s not an option, what can I use?” Well, I was just getting to that!

This final portion focuses on describing skin tone, with photo and passage examples provided throughout. I hope to cover everything from the use of straight-forward description to the more creatively-inclined, keeping in mind the questions we’ve received on this topic.

Standard Description

Basic Colors

Pictured above: Black, Brown, Beige, White, Pink.

“She had brown skin.”

This is a perfectly fine description that, while not providing the most detail, works well and will never become cliché.

Describing characters’ skin as simply brown or beige works on its own, though it’s not particularly telling just from the range in brown alone.

Complex Colors

These are more rarely used words that actually “mean” their color. Some of these have multiple meanings, so you’ll want to look into those to determine what other associations a word might have.

Pictured above: Umber, Sepia, Ochre, Russet, Terra-cotta, Gold, Tawny, Taupe, Khaki, Fawn.

Complex colors work well alone, though often pair well with a basic color in regards to narrowing down shade/tone.

For example: Golden brown, russet brown, tawny beige…

As some of these are on the “rare” side, sliding in a definition of the word within the sentence itself may help readers who are unfamiliar with the term visualize the color without seeking a dictionary.

“He was tall and slim, his skin a russet, reddish-brown.”

Comparisons to familiar colors or visuals are also helpful:

“His skin was an ochre color, much like the mellow-brown light that bathed the forest.”

Modifiers

Modifiers, often adjectives, make partial changes to a word.The following words are descriptors in reference to skin tone.

Dark - Deep - Rich - Cool

Warm - Medium - Tan

Fair - Light - Pale

Rich Black, Dark brown, Warm beige, Pale pink…

If you’re looking to get more specific than “brown,” modifiers narrow down shade further.

Keep in mind that these modifiers are not exactly colors.

As an already brown-skinned person, I get tan from a lot of sun and resultingly become a darker, deeper brown. I turn a pale, more yellow-brown in the winter.

While best used in combination with a color, I suppose words like “tan” “fair” and “light” do work alone; just note that tan is less likely to be taken for “naturally tan” and much more likely a tanned White person.

Calling someone “dark” as description on its own is offensive to some and also ambiguous. (See: Describing Skin as Dark)

Undertones

Undertones are the colors beneath the skin, seeing as skin isn’t just one even color but has more subdued tones within the dominating palette.

pictured above: warm / earth undertones: yellow, golden, copper, olive, bronze, orange, orange-red, coral | cool / jewel undertones: pink, red, blue, blue-red, rose, magenta, sapphire, silver. 

Mentioning the undertones within a character’s skin is an even more precise way to denote skin tone.

As shown, there’s a difference between say, brown skin with warm orange-red undertones (Kelly Rowland) and brown skin with cool, jewel undertones (Rutina Wesley).

“A dazzling smile revealed the bronze glow at her cheeks.”

“He always looked as if he’d ran a mile, a constant tinge of pink under his tawny skin.”

Standard Description Passage

“Farah’s skin, always fawn, had burned and freckled under the summer’s sun. Even at the cusp of autumn, an uneven tan clung to her skin like burrs. So unlike the smooth, red-brown ochre of her mother, which the sun had richened to a blessing.”

-From my story “Where Summer Ends” featured in Strange Little Girls

Here the state of skin also gives insight on character.

Note my use of “fawn” in regards to multiple meaning and association. While fawn is a color, it’s also a small, timid deer, which describes this very traumatized character of mine perfectly.

Though I use standard descriptions of skin tone more in my writing, at the same time I’m no stranger to creative descriptions, and do enjoy the occasional artsy detail of a character.

Creative Description

Whether compared to night-cast rivers or day’s first light…I actually enjoy seeing Characters of Colors dressed in artful detail.

I’ve read loads of descriptions in my day of white characters and their “smooth rose-tinged ivory skin”, while the PoC, if there, are reduced to something from a candy bowl or a Starbucks drink, so to actually read of PoC described in lavish detail can be somewhat of a treat.

Still, be mindful when you get creative with your character descriptions. Too many frills can become purple-prose-like, so do what feels right for your writing when and where. Not every character or scene warrants a creative description, either. Especially if they’re not even a secondary character.

Using a combination of color descriptions from standard to creative is probably a better method than straight creative. But again, do what’s good for your tale.

Natural Settings - Sky

Pictured above: Harvest Moon -Twilight, Fall/Autumn Leaves, Clay, Desert/Sahara, Sunlight - Sunrise - Sunset - Afterglow - Dawn- Day- Daybreak, Field - Prairie - Wheat, Mountain/Cliff, Beach/Sand/Straw/Hay.

Now before you run off to compare your heroine’s skin to the harvest moon or a cliff side, think about the associations to your words.

When I think cliff, I think of jagged, perilous, rough. I hear sand and picture grainy, yet smooth. Calm. mellow.

So consider your character and what you see fit to compare them to.

Also consider whose perspective you’re describing them from. Someone describing a person they revere or admire may have a more pleasant, loftier description than someone who can’t stand the person.

“Her face was like the fire-gold glow of dawn, lifting my gaze, drawing me in.”

“She had a sandy complexion, smooth and tawny.”

Even creative descriptions tend to draw help from your standard words.

Flowers

Pictured above: Calla lilies, Western Coneflower, Hazel Fay, Hibiscus, Freesia, Rose

It was a bit difficult to find flowers to my liking that didn’t have a 20 character name or wasn’t called something like “chocolate silk” so these are the finalists. 

You’ll definitely want to avoid purple-prose here.

Also be aware of flowers that most might’ve never heard of. Roses are easy, as most know the look and coloring(s) of this plant. But Western coneflowers? Calla lilies? Maybe not so much.

“He entered the cottage in a huff, cheeks a blushing brown like the flowers Nana planted right under my window. Hazel Fay she called them, was it?”

Assorted Plants & Nature

Pictured above: Cattails, Seashell, Driftwood, Pinecone, Acorn, Amber

These ones are kinda odd. Perhaps because I’ve never seen these in comparison to skin tone, With the exception of amber.

At least they’re common enough that most may have an idea what you’re talking about at the mention of “pinecone." 

I suggest reading out your sentences aloud to get a better feel of how it’ll sounds.

"Auburn hair swept past pointed ears, set around a face like an acorn both in shape and shade.”

I pictured some tree-dwelling being or person from a fantasy world in this example, which makes the comparison more appropriate.

I don’t suggest using a comparison just “cuz you can” but actually being thoughtful about what you’re comparing your character to and how it applies to your character and/or setting.

Wood

Pictured above: Mahogany, Walnut, Chestnut, Golden Oak, Ash

Wood can be an iffy description for skin tone. Not only due to several of them having “foody” terminology within their names, but again, associations.

Some people would prefer not to compare/be compared to wood at all, so get opinions, try it aloud, and make sure it’s appropriate to the character if you do use it.

“The old warlock’s skin was a deep shade of mahogany, his stare serious and firm as it held mine.”

Metals

Pictured above: Platinum, Copper, Brass, Gold, Bronze

Copper skin, brass-colored skin, golden skin…

I’ve even heard variations of these used before by comparison to an object of the same properties/coloring, such as penny for copper.

These also work well with modifiers.

“The dress of fine white silks popped against the deep bronze of her skin.”

Gemstones - Minerals

Pictured above: Onyx, Obsidian, Sard, Topaz, Carnelian, Smoky Quartz, Rutile, Pyrite, Citrine, Gypsum

These are trickier to use. As with some complex colors, the writer will have to get us to understand what most of these look like.

If you use these, or any more rare description, consider if it actually “fits” the book or scene.

Even if you’re able to get us to picture what “rutile” looks like, why are you using this description as opposed to something else? Have that answer for yourself.

“His skin reminded her of the topaz ring her father wore at his finger, a gleaming stone of brown, mellow facades.” 

Physical Description

Physical character description can be more than skin tone.

Show us hair, eyes, noses, mouth, hands…body posture, body shape, skin texture… though not necessarily all of those nor at once.

Describing features also helps indicate race, especially if your character has some traits common within the race they are, such as afro hair to a Black character.

How comprehensive you decide to get is up to you. I wouldn’t overdo it and get specific to every mole and birthmark. Noting defining characteristics is good, though, like slightly spaced front teeth, curls that stay flopping in their face, hands freckled with sunspots…

General Tips

Indicate Race Early: I suggest indicators of race be made at the earliest convenience within the writing, with more hints threaded throughout here and there.

Get Creative On Your Own: Obviously, I couldn’t cover every proper color or comparison in which has been “approved” to use for your characters’ skin color, so it’s up to you to use discretion when seeking other ways and shades to describe skin tone.

Skin Color May Not Be Enough: Describing skin tone isn’t always enough to indicate someone’s ethnicity. As timeless cases with readers equating brown to “dark white” or something, more indicators of race may be needed.

Describe White characters and PoC Alike: You should describe the race and/or skin tone of your white characters just as you do your Characters of Color. If you don’t, you risk implying that White is the default human being and PoC are the “Other”).

PSA: Don’t use “Colored.” Based on some asks we’ve received using this word, I’d like to say that unless you or your character is a racist grandmama from the 1960s, do not call People of Color “colored” please. 

Not Sure Where to Start? You really can’t go wrong using basic colors for your skin descriptions. It’s actually what many people prefer and works best for most writing. Personally, I tend to describe my characters using a combo of basic colors + modifiers, with mentions of undertones at times. I do like to veer into more creative descriptions on occasion.

Want some alternatives to “skin” or “skin color”? Try: Appearance, blend, blush, cast, coloring, complexion, flush, glow, hue, overtone, palette, pigmentation, rinse, shade, sheen, spectrum, tinge, tint, tone, undertone, value, wash.

Skin Tone Resources

List of Color Names

The Color Thesaurus

Skin Undertone & Color Matching

Tips and Words on Describing Skin

Photos: Undertones Described (Modifiers included)

Online Thesaurus (try colors, such as “red” & “brown”)

Don’t Call me Pastries: Creative Skin Tones w/ pics I 

Writing & Description Guides

WWC Featured Description Posts

WWC Guide: Words to Describe Hair

Writing with Color: Description & Skin Color Tags

7 Offensive Mistakes Well-intentioned Writers Make

I tried to be as comprehensive as possible with this guide, but if you have a question regarding describing skin color that hasn’t been answered within part I or II of this guide, or have more questions after reading this post, feel free to ask!

~ Mod Colette

[princess-of-whump]

When The Party’s Over

(Tw: beating, restraints, stabbing (kinda?), slight mental breakdown)

Whumpee crumpled to the ground; the punch had sucked all the air from their chest and sent them tipping back. They hit the cement floor of the cell harder than they had before.

“Had enough yet?” Whumper loomed over them, grinning.

Whumpee coughed up a bit more blood and spat it to the side, hoping that looked as cool as it did in the movies. They returned the cocky grin. “Oh, are you getting tired already? I can do this all night.”

Whumpee staggered back to their feet, trying to keep their balance with their hands tied behind their back. Pain engulfed them. Their ears rang. They could feel their heartbeat across every inch of their skin.

Still, they stepped forward, meeting Whumper’s eyes. Whumper shook their head in amusement and wound up, hitting Whumpee again - this time in the jaw. Whumpee stumbled back again, tripping over their legs and flailing to the ground.

They allowed themselves a moment of rest against the cool floor, closing their eyes as the pain slowly - so slowly - faded. Once their vision cleared, they sat back up, panting. “Who taught you to throw a punch? Your grandma?”

Whumper knelt down, gripping Whumpee by the hair. “I’ll have you know my grandmother is a terrifying woman.”

Whumpee felt a trickle of blood drip from the corner of their mouth as they answered, “Well in that case, you should give her a call and ask her to come help you. Maybe she’ll do a better job.”

The amusement drained from Whumper’s eyes. “You have a point though. Punching you is inefficient. Cathartic, sure. But inefficient.”

Whumper shoved Whumpee aside, standing up smoothly and striding across the room to the jacket they had shed when they got there. Whumpee finally tilted themselves back up to a sitting position, then to their feet, ignoring how their ribs screamed in protest. Really, how everything was screaming in protest.

They couldn’t show weakness. Pain was temporary. Their world was spiraling out of controll, moving so fast and becoming too slippery to get a grip on. The only thing they could do was piss Whumper off and give them a show.

So that’s what they’d do.

“Aw, quitting already?” Whumpee teased as Whumper retrieved their coat.

Whumper pulled something from the front pocket, then tossed the jacket aside again.

“Oh no, just wanted to grab a toy we could play with.” Whumper strode forward and used one hand to shove Whumpee back. Their trembling, exhausted legs buckled with the slight prompting, sending them crashing down to the cement yet again. Their head cracked against the brick wall this time.

Whumpee’s head spun as black stars danced across their vision. They blinked hard, willing the darkness to drain away.

They choked back a cough and tried to scootch themselves up until they were sitting back against the wall as casually as they could manage. “Geez you must be getting tired, that wasn’t even a proper hit.”

Whumper knelt down, straddling their legs. “I told you hitting was ineffective. I’m moving on to bigger and better things. We don’t even have to stand up for this, isn’t that nice?”

Whumpee suppressed their urge to squirm away at the sudden closeness. They didn’t have the energy left to fight, so stoic indifference would have to do. “Well, if you want to be lazy, go right ahead. I won’t judge. What’s the new and improved method of failure you settled on?”

Whumpe offered a curt smile and held up what seemed to be their car keys. Four or so keys on a small ring looped over their index finger.

Whumpee eyed them. “Ooooooookay? Yes, very scary. You going to bring your car in there and run me over a few times? At least that would be existing for a ch- Nngh!” Whumpee grunted as Whumper shoved a key between their ribs. Whumpee could feel it scrape against bone before Whumper stopped.

Whumpee’s head spun. Every breath pushed against the jagged edge if the key. They gritted their teeth, willing themselves not to scream as Whumper twisted the key. Just like they were starting a car. Whumpee set their jaw, desperately trying not to react.

Whumpee gasped besides their best efforts as Whumper pulled it back out. They gritted their teeth.

Focus. Focus. Don’t let them see.

Whumpee chuckled, ignoring the screaming pain the small sound warranted. “Did you really just stab be with car keys? Aren’t you supposed to be a big scary torturer or something? I think I have a knife in my bag I can lend you if you need one.”

Whumper traced the key across Whumpee’s neck, stopping at their pulse point. They could feel the warm wetness of their blood leaving a trial on the sensitive skin. A shiver ran up their spine that they barely contained.

Whumper grinned. They saw it. Fuck.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stick with these for now. I don’t want to waste any of our precious time together on an errand run. Besides,” Whumper trails the key back down their collarbone and along their sternum, “These are already more fun than I thought they’d be.”

Whumper pushed the key into Whumpee’s flesh once more, right above their diaphragm. Whumpee set their jaw, trying to glare at the wall as they felt the blade of they key rip and slice just under their skin. It was shallow, but the key still was in to the hilt, the entire blade slid in just under their skin.

Whumper teased the key back and forth, in and out. They were barely wriggling it, just watching Whumpee’s face as the teeth of the dull blade ripped in and out of their flesh.

Whumpee forced themselves to make eye contact with Whumper, praying their eyes didn’t betray how much it hurt. Their voice was strained, “The key is like two inches long. Do you really think this is more ‘efficient’?” Fuck talking made it so much worse. They continued anyway. “If so, you’re stupider than you look. And that’s not a compliment to your looks.”

Whumper promptly ripped the key up and out, the teeth slicing a short, jagged line as they broke the skin.

Whumpee bit their lip, but a soft, strangled wine wormed up their throat.

“I think it’s kind of fun actually.” They held up the bloodied key, examining it. Whumpee felt sick. “They’re more dull than they look. It really takes a lot of force to get it to cut into the skin correctly. If this one didn’t have a fob attached, I don’t think I would have enough grip control to pull it off.”

Whumpee glared at their thin blood dripping down the grip on the key, sending up a quick, silent prayer that their blood would seep into the buttons and somehow ruin the key. That would be funny.

Whumpee gave the most annoyed sigh they could muster. “Well now, what a fun experiment. I’m glad you got your kicks in.”

Whumper laughed. “Well it’s not a proper experiment without a control group, now is it? That’s just bad science.” They selected another key on the ring - a brass house key with no extra grip. “Let’s try the same thing with a regular one to test the hypothesis. You’ll be a great assistant.”

Whumpee rolled their eyes. “I’m not a great choice of assistant. Experiment all you want, but I’m not taking any notes for you. I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can always cut the notes into you,” Whumper offered with a helpful smile.

Whumpee couldn’t hold back a shiver as the dull, jagged metal traced their collarbone. They had no idea when it would dig into the skin. It could be anywhere. The teeth grazed and poked at every ridge in their shoulder.

Fresh panic pooled in their stomach. They squeezed their eyes shut. Every inch of them was trembling, and hot tears threatened to claw up their throat.

Stay strong. Don’t let them see.

Whumpee’s mind raced for a clever retort. Something. Anything. Anything to cover up the panic in their eyes. They opened their mouth, trying to find the words. Any words at all.

Whumper’s hand froze as their phone went off in their pocket.

Whumper sighed, blessedly pulling the key away from Whumpee’s throat as they sat back and fished the cell from their pocket.

They read the screen, sighed again, then answered.

“Make it quick, I’m a little busy here.”

Whumpee strained to hear the other voice, but it was too muffled, and their ears were ringing too much. They took a moment to take a quick inventory. The world seemed like it was tilted slightly, and every bruise throbbed. A trickle of blood dripped from the jagged gash on their stomach. Their lung hadn’t deflated, so the key must not have punctured anything. They focused on trying to slow their breaths.

Wait.

They should be being annoying, not panting in relief. Stupid.

Whumpee tried a grin. “Is that the grandma I’ve heard so much about? Gonna ask her to come help out after all?”

Whumper held up a finger, completely disinterested. “You idiot. You can’t just - no, I know. I didn’t ask you how, I just want it fixed.” Whumper pushed themselves up and started walking back to their jacket, phone still pressed to their ear.

“Fine. But this is your fuckup, you need to clean it up yourself.” They slid one arm into the jacket, then the other.

Whumpee resisted the urge to pull their knees up to their chest, settling to bend one leg up casually so they were lounging lazily against the wall with a smirk to match. “Family drama?”

Whumper ignored them again. “Fine. Be there in five minutes.” They jabbed the ‘End Call’ button and turned back to Whumpee. “Looks like I have to cut our time short today. I’ll be back tomorrow with that knife you requested.” They gave Whumpee a quick wink as they wiped the blood off their keys with a tissue.

Whumpee gave an exaggerated pout, ignoring the burn of their split lip. “Aww, but I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

Whumper pulled the door open, “Oh, I’ll miss you too, but I’m sure you’ll manage until tomorrow night.” They left quickly.

As the dull click of the lock echoed, Whumpee finally let themselves slump against the wall. The facade crumbled.

Tomorrow night.

Their head was throbbing. Their body screaming and aching with every breath. Immediately once they closed their eyes, hot tears finally flooded out.

They sobbed without restraint, the tears plummeting to their chest as their head spun. They toppled over to their side, pulling their knees up into the fetal position as they cried into the cold hard ground. They let it all out.

One day. One day to cry.

One night to sob and scream and wail. Just a few hours to feel cold and alone, so hopelessly lost and afraid.

Then Whumper comes back. And the scharade begins again.

But for now, they can cry. That’s enough.

(Tags: @prisonerwhump, @whumpawink)

[princess-of-whump]

Scared of the Dark?

(TW: sensory deprivation, panic attack, phobia, whip, handcuffs, blindfolded)

.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of the dark? Sweetheart, that’s something I can help with.”

Whumpee’s world swam into darkness as the mask pressed against their eyelids. This wasn’t like the normal blindfolds; this one was fitted and soft. Not a trickle of light could wriggle in from the bottom. No grey, no pink, only pure, suffocating blackness.

Panic immediately clenched in Whumpee’s chest. Darkness was bad enough in their old, safe bedroom, but in this psychos basement? Worse. Somehow - impossibly- worse.

Whumper somewhere in the room with them. Oh fuck. Oh fuck where did they go?

The ground immediately felt unsteady under their feet. Whumpee flexed their fingers open and shut rhythmically, trying to keep their breathing steady. The cuffs bit into their wrists as they did. Their ears strained, trying to find Whumper in the deep blackness. They felt like they were floating. Falling. Screaming. They jerked against the cuffs without thinking. Where are they?? Where are they?!

“Please. Please take it off. Please, I’ll be so good.” Their voice shook more than they expected - some of the squeaking words caught between a whisper and nothingness.

A jolt of panic snapped through Whumpee’s spine as fingertips brushed their cheek - no. Knuckles. Gently. They twitched their face away from the touch without thinking. In front of them. Whumper was in front of them.

Whumper laughed softly, and their breath tickled Whumpee’s left ear. Shit. Fuck. Next to them. Whumpee was next to them.

“So good for me? What are you going to do to be good for me? To persuade me?” Whumper stepped closer, their front pressing against Whumpee’s back. FUCK. Behind them. Whumper was behind them. Final answer. Standing behind, speaking in their ear, reaching around to touch their face. Whumpee was completely surrounded. Surrounded by them. By touch. By darkness. Cold, suffocating darkness. Whumpee barely choked back a sob.

Without their sight, they felt unsteady. Like the ground was at an angle. Like they could fall any minute and would have no idea where they’d land. Maybe they wouldn’t land. Maybe they would fall down down down into the sucking inky void, screaming on and on forever as the darkness ate the sound from their throat.

“Well this is certainly having an effect on you,” Whumper gloated. “You can’t even focus enough to answer one little question.” Whumper’s hand dropped from their cheek and trailed down their waist. Whumpee’s skin twitched under the touch, trying to crawl away.

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut as tightly as they could manage. Maybe if it’s their choice that they can’t see, the darkness couldn’t devour them.

It did anyway.

“Qu-question?” Whumpee stammered, trying to focus.

Whumper’s fingertips changed direction, skimming small looping patterns over their side and thigh. Completely unpredictable, changing directions sporadically. “Yes, sweet. My question. What would you do to persuade me to take it off?”

Whumpee could feel the strings of the mask burning around their skull. Off. They needed it off. “Anything. Anything, please. Please just take it off.”

“Well thats’s not very persuasive,” Whumper chuckled, using their other hand to make the same velvety soft patterns up Whumpee’s arm. “I’m having a pretty good time right now, so you would have to think of something I want to do even more.”

Off. Off. They were going to take it off. Think of something.

“Darling, I’m not going to wait all night. Make me an offer.”

Whumpee’s heart was pounding in their ears. Think of something. Anything. Something bad. Darkness? No. Not that bad thing. Another bad thing. Something they would like.

Whumpee’s head spun and fell apart into a hundred scattered pieces. The only thing they could think of was the sucking blackness pulling at their skin.

“Better hurry, I’m starting to get bored.” Whumper’s fingers trailed over tender, tingling scars. Whumpee twitched away without thinking, but Whumper only laughed softly. Good. They were usually mad when Whumpee flinched too much. Then they got the whip-

That’s a thing.

“The whip.”

Whumper laughed loudly, making Whumper flinch more. “Ah, so you can talk after all. You really want the whip?”

“Please. Please take it off now. I-I can’t do anymore.”

“No no, darling. I need you to beg me.” Whumper’s hands left Whumpee’s body. That was somehow worse. Whumpee could tell that they were moving but couldn’t tell where. Everything was lost to the void.

Focus. Beg.

“Please. Please. Please take it off.”

Whumper laughed again. Shit. They were in front of them now. The void got smaller. Suffocating them. Squeezing their flesh while trying to rip them apart.

“No no, don’t beg me to take it off. Beg me to whip you. Beg me to make you scream. Tell me how badly you want to bleed for me.”

Pain was coming. So much pain. It sounded like a blessed release - anything but the darkness. They drew in a shaking breath. “Please. The whip. Please whip me.”

“Aww, I think you can be a little more convincing than that.”

Whumpee started to shake so badly they were afraid their knees would give out. The ground still seemed uneaven and sloped under their feet. Just say the words. Say it and it will be done.

“I want you to make me bleed. Please, I want you to whip me. I want to scream for you. I’ll be so good. So, so good. Please take it off and let me be good for you. Let me scream for you.”

Whumpee jerked away as soft fingers cupped their face, but Whumper’s grip help firm. “Now that’s better. So much better. You really are being good for me. You really want me to whip you?”

“Yes. Yes, please whip me.”

“You want to scream for me?”

“I’ll scream so loud. Please. Please.”

“Well how can I say no when my darling is being so sweet? Alright. I’ll whip you.”

Relief flooded Whumpee. Maybe some panic too, but any more panic in their blood was negligible.

“Now thank me for being so gracious.”

Whumpee bit their lip. Just say it and it will be over. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. What a good pet I have.”

Whumpee trembled as Whumper’s hands pulled away from their face. They waited for the mask to slide up and off of them, but it stayed untouched.

“I’m going to take those cuffs off you now,” Whumper said, moving back behind them.

“But you said you’d-”

“Patience, sweet. I thought you said you were going to be good for me? Or would you rather I leave it on all night?”

Whumpee’s mouth snapped shut. Hot tears were starting to fill the mask. They tried to seep back into the creases of their eyelids as the mask pressed close.

“Don’t touch the mask.”

Whumper fiddled with the cuffs for a moment before it clicked off of one hand, then the other.

The Whumpee itched to pull the mask off, but settled for rubbing their aching wrists instead. They were warm and wet - Whumpee hadn’t realized their wrists had started bleeding again. They must have been pulling harder than they thought. The feel of their blood between their fingers made Whumpee dizzy all over again.

They tried to take a step to regain their balance, but that made it worse. Their hands instinctively snapped up to their face to pull off the blindfold.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Whumper growled, clamping onto Whumpee’s wrists and yanking their arms back down.

“I’m sorry! I slipp-”

“Shut up,” Whumper snapped. “If you so much as touch that mask, I will duct tape it to your face and leave you like that until the weekend.”

Their voice dropped. Low. Dangerous. “And if you take it off?” Whumper’s breath brushed across Whumpee’s face and they whispered, “I will cut out your eyes and you will live in this darkness until the day you die. Got it?”

Whumpee’s chest closed in again. They choked for air, processing the threat.

A sharp pain spread across their cheek as their head snapped to the side. “I said. Got it?”

“Yes. I got it,” came the parroted response. Air flooded their lungs again. Too fast. Too slow. Not enough. Whumpee focused on opening and closing their hands again. They couldn’t start hyperventilating. They would pass out. They didn’t want to black out into a deeper darkness. Focus.

“Good. Now get on your knees. I’m going to whip you just like you asked. And you had better be good for me.”

“But,” The mask burned into their face. Off. They needed it off. “You promised. Please. Please take it off.”

Whumper chucked from the other side of the room. Whumpee could hear them pulling the whip off of its place on the wall.

“You begged me to whip you, so I’ll whip you. You never specified that I needed to take the mask off first. Now get on your knees.”

Whunpee’s hands twitched. They clenched them together to keep from touching the mask. It was hard. Very hard.

“Please just-“

The whip cracked across their chest. Whumpee screamed, stumbling back.

“I said ‘knees’. Now.”

Whumpee hesitated.

“Don’t make tell you again.”

Whumpee’s knees buckled involuntarily, and they sunk to the floor. They couldn’t hold back their sobs anymore. Their breaths came shallow and fast, a sporadic and painful rhythm as they choked on the all-consuming blackness.

Whumpee couldn’t even brace for the pain as their chest tightened more and more. Their hands went numb as the darkness flooded through them. The cold sucking sensation overwhelmed them. The world turned upside down as the blackness pulled them deeper into the void.

Whumpee flinched hard as Whumper’s fingers gently brushed through their hair, but they didn’t pull away.

“Oh darling, you’re such a mess.”

Whumpee continued their choking sobs in response. They were shaking so hard they were afraid they’d topple over and fall into eternity.

“You have been so good for me. You didn’t even touch the mask. I’m so proud of you.”

The mask burned. It pulled in on their face like a python, squeezing tighter and tighter as they gaped for air. The darkness sucked away their warmth, leaving them shaking and numb, fighting for life on the concrete.

“So good indeed. I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?”

Searing white light flooded Whumpee’s vision as Whumper slipped the mask up and off. They gasped at the crisp air, eyes darting around the room painfully. Whumpee’s hands flew to their face, and they scrubbed the tears away from their eyes, blinking up at the light. Feeling returned to their fingers, a burning, blessed warmth.

Whumper knelt in front of them, tossing the whip far to the side, out of reach.

“But…” Whumpee stammered, “but, but I thought you-”

“Oh hush, darling. Don’t work yourself back up into a panic.” Their fingers snuck out to caress Whumpee’s cheek, and Whumpee gladly leaned into the soft warmth. “You were very, very good for me. You’ve done enough for today.”

Whumpee blinked at them. “No…no whip?”

“Not tonight.”

Whumpee reached up to hold the hand on their cheek as they processed the words. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Whumper. Thank you!”

Whumper smiled at them, warmly but amused. “You’re very welcome.”

Whumper stood up smoothly and retrieved the whip, putting it back in its place on the wall.

“Bring me the mask and cuffs, will you?”

“Of course, Whumper.”

Whumpee located both on the floor behind them. They scooped them up and stood - legs all pins and needles - and quickly brought them to Whumper who took them and tucked them away in their places as well.

“There. Everything where it should be.” Whumper glanced at the clock. “Except you. You should be in bed at this hour.” Whumper turned and gently wiped away the rest of Whumpee’s tears. They hadn’t quite calmed down yet, but they could breathe. That was good enough.

“Let’s get you to bed. And take this with you.” They handed Whumpee a small box.

It was a nightlight. Brand new.

Whumpee looked up at them, eyes wide.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I told you I could help. I take care of my things. Now, get to bed,” Whumper said, tousling Whumpee’s hair playfully. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

.

Continued here.

[princess-of-whump]

Hi! I was wondering, Is it possible for a whumpee to stop feeling pain after enduring years of torture? I love your blog so much

Nerve and/or spinal damage could cause permanent loss of strength, sensation and function, if the damage done was severe enough.

[princess-of-whump]

the whumper’s favorite method of keeping their captive behaved is to keep them afraid. if the whumpee becomes to comfortable, too confident, then the whumper takes out the whip to make them frightened and flinchy and nervous again. if the whumpee hesitates to obey, or shows some hint of resistance, the whip is taken out and tears at their back until they wince at every shiver, until they recoil from every gesture of their captor, until they remember that they are supposed to be terrified, here, and they have no control.

[princess-of-whump]

Prompt 11

A rich family buys a pet to take care of their sick son, but everyone in the house ends up using the pet for themselves. The pet is always exhausted trying to please everyone, but tries to smile and look good in front of the young master who is the only one who, despite being disabled, tries to do things for himself so he can give his pet friend a break. The pet can't help but be grateful to the young master, who always keeps food for it and at night allows it to sleep next to him in bed.

[princess-of-whump]

that's it that's the post

[princess-of-whump]

[princess-of-whump]

sadist caretaker

CW: implied self h@rm, conditioned whumpee, knife torture, sadism

“Please, Sir,” Whumpee whined softly as they slumped down, all while Caretaker was changing their bandages.

“I said no, Whumpee.”

The gauze Caretaker removed was soaked crimson, his friend’s own handiwork. He shuddered, but he hid it well.

“And I also told you to stop punishing yourself. Please, I want you to stop,” Caretaker practically begged. The entire group relied on him, he was well aware, but times like these made him doubt his capability.

Whumpee looked on as their friend worked with gentle touches to wrap their wounds in clean material. The disappointment on their face was unmistakable.

“I did something bad,” they insisted, “You know I did, and, and I want to be good again. I’ll be good, please...”

Right then and there, the moment Caretaker had dreaded for so long now became reality. The moment he couldn’t bear it any longer. “Stop it, Whumpee! Stop talking to me like that.” ‘Stop playing pet with me.’

The stern rejection had Whumpee fall silent, eyes wide and scared. God no, no no no, what had he done?

Caretaker buried his face in his hands. When he took them away again he would surely wake up, wouldn’t he? What else could this be but a vivid nightmare scenario his subconscious had whipped up for him?

‘Punish me, punish me’, all day long, pleading puppy eyes to go along with it. It was dreadful.

Caretaker removed his hands, slowly, and breathed out. Okay.

“How should I punish you?” he asked hoarsely.

Whumpee perked up with new life, relief replacing despair in his eyes. “U-Um, uh, cut me again, Sir? I- I don’t know...”

Okay.

Okay.

It was all okay.

“Yes.” Caretaker spun around and scanned his surroundings before spontaneously picking up the scalpel. “Sure. We’ll do that.”

He turned to Whumpee again and twirled his finger in a commanding gesture. “Turn around, please.”

Without question, his friend turned his bare back to him. A blank canvas.

What?

Caretaker shook his head at himself for the bizarre comparison — it had been a long day — and reached out with a steady hand. The cool metal against their skin made Whumpee jump and shiver. What a small knife this was. Master had never used it on them before, so it had to be a special day. Whumpee shakily breathed in and out again. On a special day, much worse punishments usually awaited them.

“I’m starting now,” Caretaker announced, jittery, although his body wouldn’t show it.

“Yes! I- I mean, yes Sir.”

Finally, a shallow cut. The blade drew blood as Caretaker dragged it across the unharmed skin with conflicted emotions. Not too hard, not too deep. It would barely hurt them.

“What’s wrong?” Whumpee whispered. “Why– Why aren’t you starting?”

Caretaker pressed down harder, grinding his teeth. It was all too messed up.

This time, Whumpee whined softly at the pain. Their friend carved another red line into him, right below the first. Without realizing what he was doing, Caretaker had notably increased the pressure. Whumpee winced at the feeling.

After the first few cuts were done, it wasn’t as difficult. Caretaker found himself carving into the skin with ease, he was a doctor after all, right? The crimson dripped down freely, staining his hand, physical proof of his misdeeds. No, it really wasn’t hard. Dragging the blade across his visibly trembling friend’s shoulder blades, Caretaker felt more relieved than anything.

“Mm!” Whumpee’s weak form jolted and cringed, seemingly in a fair amount of pain. “H-Hurts, hurts bad, Sir...”

Caretaker sighed and pulled back. “It’s fine. I haven’t done that much, Whu–”

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes finally capturing the bigger picture once he leaned back. No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t done this.

“Whumpee?” Dread gripped his heart cold and tight. “How long did I cut you for?”

Whumpee looked back shyly over their shoulder. “I-I, sorry, I didn’t c-count–”

“How long do you think? How long, Whumpee?”

“Ten, ten minutes...?” they suggested anxiously.

The noise was tantamount to thunder in the quiet room when the scalpel clattered against the floor.

“S-Sir?” His injured friend whimpered again. “Wasn’t I good? You said- You said I was good, I thought...”

“What...? I..I never said anything, Whumpee.”

“But—” Whumpee lowered their voice when they caught themselves using the wrong tone. “You said I was good for staying still when you s-stabbed me.”

Caretaker felt his blood run cold despite the anger igniting it. He had to muster the courage to look. “I never, I never stabbed—”

The bleeding gash between Whumpee’s shoulders said otherwise. Caretaker gagged horribly and curled into himself, hand clasped over his mouth. Breathing hard through his nose as the nauseating sight of his very own work was etched into his memory.

He remembered everything Whumpee said he’d done. He’d gotten so caught up in his work, everything had blurred together, faded in the background.

“I stabbed you and twisted it,” Caretaker said. Despite the terrifying ordeal of realization, he remembered the feeling of a pleasant spark in his chest. He hadn’t been able to stop himself. So very satisfying to cause pain instead of taking it away.

All inhibition left him. He wanted more. “Fuck.”

At that, Whumpee’s head shot back to look at him with real concern.

“You were right,” he rumbled.

“H-Huh?”

He picked up the scalpel, an oblong bloody mark left behind on the floor. “You were bad,” he said. “I’m not done punishing you.”

tags: @reblogging-whump @lavmars @whatwasmyprevioususername @whump-time-babey @whump-it-like-its-hot

[princess-of-whump]

Any ideas for twins as whumpee (she/her) /caretaker (he/him)? I got the idea stuck in my head a few days ago

Mmm I like that, always love it when the caretaker knows the whumpee from before the whump happens, because then they can’t help but notice and be heartbroken by how much it changed the whumpee… and twins especially would know each other very well so double that pain hehe

Okay so here is all I could come up with:

Whumper torturing Whumpee in front of Caretaker because they want to find out if twins actually feel each other’s pain

Caretaker singing a lullaby from their childhood to Whumpee when she's being hurt/feeling pain/having a nightmare/just needs to calm down (It was the first idea that came to my mind, straight from @empathetic-whumper's addition to this post, which I saw months ago and never left my mind)

I mean, every kind of whump you put them through would be extra fun. Caretaker screaming to swap places with Whumpee, crying almost as much as her when she gets hurt, just pure helplessness that the person he shared a womb and a life with is being hurt right in front of him and there's nothing he can do

Or! Caretaker doesn't get to see Whumpee being hurt, only after she's tortured or whatever Whumper puts her through, and can only imagine what happened to his sister when she is dumped back in his cell

Maybe she rarely cries/shows emotion, so Caretaker gets even more terrified when she's dropped in front of him bloody and sobbing, begging for mercy even when it's only them

Whumpee offers herself to be hurt so her twin won’t be

Now if we're talking about recovery, I love the idea of Caretaker just trying to piece together what happened to his twin, the closest person to him, because she won't say it, and so much has changed. She has triggers he doesn't know about, and he ends up triggering her because of it. She screams in her sleep now, and all he can do is whisper that she is safe as she cries and pulls away from his hug. She stares off into space, and he doesn't know anymore what she's thinking about like he used to

Or maybe she does tell him everything, and Caretaker just barely holds it together as he listens

And a little dialogue that made me sad:

“Whumpee why won’t you just talk to me. I’ve known you my entire life and I can see you’re not okay, just tell me what’s wrong. Please, I want to help but I need you to tell me how.”

“What’s wrong is that we were supposed to be there for each other, always, and when I was broken into nothing you weren’t there. When I needed you the most, you didn’t help me, Caretaker, so no I don’t want to talk to you. Not this time.”

[princess-of-whump]

i love that pup dehumanization one,, do you possibly have another :0?

(More of the same or something else? Sorry, I am terrible at deciphering requests.)

They sat straight against the wall, kneeling, arms held above their head, their world dark and quiet. The blindfold was a new addition. They did not see without their master’s permission. They did not speak without their master’s permission. It had been so long, they wondered if they still could. They knew they were alone, so against their better judgement a noise escaped them, muffled by the muzzle over their mouth. It was weak and strangled. They tried again, trying to force a noise that wasn’t a whimper or a scream.

“Mh-my” their lips pushed against the muzzle, their jaw shifting behind it as they tried to speak. “My n-na-name… my name… is…” It had been an old mantra they used to repeat in their head. Their name, then their age, then their family, a way to stay sane, to try and remember who they were before this. “My-name-is-”

The door opened. They went silent, heart pounding in their ears. Had they hear them? Footsteps entered, two pairs. They felt them getting closer and they resisted the urge to move or shift. The cuffs above their head shifted, letting them lower their arms. They dropped them to their lap but didn’t move anymore.

“It is quite beautiful” It was a new voice, not their master. “How long have you had it?” It. They didn’t move, even though the word sent a shiver down their spine.

“Three years.” Their masters voice. Is that really how long it had been? It felt like a lifetime. So much of if they couldn’t remeber. Hazy days of pain, easing in and out of unconsciousness. “Pet, come here.“ 

They knew what was expected of them. They shifted forward, head down, and crawled on hands and knees, towards the voice. A hand on their head stopped them and they sat on their heels, head still lowered. Their leash was picked up and they raised their head when it was tugged upward for them to do so.

“Would you like to whip them?” Their master again, an offer, for their friend. “It makes such adorable noises when it wants to beg for you to stop. But it can’t speak.” A hand touched their muzzle, tracing a finger along their cheek.

“I would love to.”

They still didn’t move, not even when leather struck against their back.  Behind the blindfold their eyes screwed shut, trying not to flinch at the pain. 

My name…. my name is… its…

Tears soaked the blindfold. But not from the pain. They couldn’t… 

They couldn’t remember.

[princess-of-whump]

Some ideas about pet whumpee and new caretaker misunderstandings: 

-Caretaker is busy and they want to be left alone, they tell whumpee “I’m busy, go wait for me in that room”. Later they come into the room to see a trembling whumpee presenting a cane for them to be beaten with, as a punishment for bothering master.

-Caretaker gives whumpee a bath and leaves to do some work, expecting the whumpee to finish up on their own. They come back hours later to find whumpee still in the bath, freezing and shivering, because they were never ordered to get out. Or also: Caretaker asking whumpee to get ready for a bath, and whumpee goes and waits outside by the hose instead of in the bathroom.

-Caretaker asks whumpee to bring them some kind of tool (a knife, a hammer, etc.) because they’re doing some chores/housework. Whumpee brings the tool back, hands it to the caretaker, and presents their hands to be cut/hit while crying and apologizing. 

-Whumpee spills something on the shirt that caretaker gave them. They nervously go to Caretaker’s room to admit their mistake. Caretaker says “go ahead and take that shirt off”, meaning to get whumpee a clean one. But when they turn around from the closet, they see whumpee kneeling on the floor with their back facing caretaker, thinking they’re going to be whipped for ruining master’s property.

-caretaker comes in holding rope and whumpee obediently drops to their knees and holds out their arms like a good pet.

-whumpee seems restless lately, having to sit around the house with nothing to do, so caretaker lets whumpee run on their treadmill for some exercise to get that energy out. They leave, thinking whumpee will get off when they’re tired. But hours later they come back and see that the exhausted whumpee is still trying to run. The whole time the whumpee was wondering what they were being punished for. Had they been too lazy? When master finally stops the treadmill they promise through labored breaths that they’ve learned their lesson, whatever they did wrong they’ll never do it again. And they know they don’t deserve it but can they please have just a little bit of water?

-

anon these are all so damn good and this submission has made my day

[princess-of-whump]

making characters who talk a lot fall mute in response to trauma is a trope(?) im maybe a bit too into

[princess-of-whump]

a shudder of horror as the whumpee realizes that there is no escape. maybe their loved ones are being threatened. maybe they’ve just been cornered and outnumbered. maybe their only weapon has been knocked away, or they’ve been injured in a way that renders them harmless, or they’ve been pinned to a wall and threats are being whispered hauntingly at their ear. the chill that creeps across the whumpee’s skin, the memories of pain and hopelessness creeping like a shadow in their mind to consume all logical thought. there is no escape, and this is the moment that they feel it wholly.

[princess-of-whump]

sweet comfort for a whumpee who’s been through so much today. a hand sliding over scarred, welt-ridden skin, passing over again with a warm wet cloth. fingers pressing into knotted muscles to work out the painful tension there. knotted, dirty hair being dipped in hot water and scrubbed through, soap bubbling up to was away all the grime and sweat. the battered body being scooped up into sturdy arms and lowered onto something soft, whether it’s a bed or a couch or a blanket on the floor.

[princess-of-whump]

Whumper beating whumpee to the rhythm of their favorite song

Whumpee woke up to two things: a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on them and ABBA blasting through the speakers of the torture basement they were being held in.

In front of them, Whumper grinned, setting the bucket down and getting their whip ready. Whumpee stared at them uncomprehendingly.

"Wha- what's going on?" they asked.

Whumper's smirk grew. "Oh, nothing. Just getting my exercise in."

They stepped around to Whumpee's back. Then the whip came down. As the chipper music droned on above them, Whumpee slowly realized that they were being hit in sync with the music.

"You are a dancing queen"

WHACK

"Young and sweet"

WHACK

"Only seventeen"

WHACK

[princess-of-whump]

50 Things Your Whumpee Could Be Doing

1. Combing dried blood out their hair.

2. Trying to cut their collar off with a knife or scissors.

3. Searching for painkillers.

4. Washing their wounds.

5. Trying to undo the knot on their wrists behind their back.

6. Cleaning Whumpers shoes.

7. Laying on the floor, fantasizing about home.

8. Sticking their fingers down their throat to throw the poison up.

9. Nervously tapping the bell on their collar.

10. Mixing sleepaids into Whumpers drink.

11. Attempting to escape the now soundly-sleeping Whumper.

12. Disinfecting an animal bite.

13. Googling their symptoms.

14. Be desperatly searching for Caretaker.

15. Snapping open a lock on their chains.

16. Putting make-up on their bruises.

17. Bonding with Caretakers pet.

18. Trying to snap the bell off their collar.

19. Only pretend to swallow their pills by hiding them under their tounge.

20. Biting the buckle on their straightjacket open.

21. Taking a risk by eating unidentified berries.

22. Digging a grave.

23. Sitting in Whumpers lap.

24. Feeling the tooth they just broke with their tounge.

25. Slamming their head against the bars of their cell to knock themselves unconcious.

26. Washing saltstains away from their cheeks or glasses so Caretaker won't see that they've been crying.

27. Fastening a branch to a broken limb.

28. Using sticks as makeshift crutches.

29. Sticking their hand into cold water to quell the swelling of a bug/snakebite.

30. Sucking the venom out said bite.

31. Exploring Whumpers house at night.

32. Hoping that the friend that Whumper brought home is more reasonable, pleading with them to please help them escape.

33. Pounding their fists against the wall and screaming to get the attention of anyone who might hear.

34. Attempying to rip the soundproofing out the walls of their cell.

35. Making friends with one of the bugs in the cellar they're being kept in.

36. Brushing their teeth to get the taste of blood out their mouth.

37. Getting caught in the barbed wire when trying to climb Whumpers fence.

38. Breaking their comfort item in rage.

39. Fainting at the sight of a needle.

40. Changing into a hospital gown.

41. Trying to piss Whumper off by being more obedient/affectionate with one of Whumpers friends.

42. Running from a wild animal.

43. Drinking dirty water.

44. Eating out of Whumpers hand.

45. Entertaining themselves in their cell by practicing shadowpuppets.

46. Trying to figure out which *damn key* goes to their restraints.

47. Pleading with a voice so sore that it's barely audiable.

48. Picking out a turtleneck to wear that day so that nobody sees the fresh marks on their throat.

49. Giving Whumper a kiss.

50. Crying.