10 Non-Lethal Injuries To Add Pain To Your Writing

words to use instead of ________

"Mad"

aggravated, angry, annoyed, boiling, cross, enraged, exasperated, fuming, furious, heated, incensed, indignant, irate, irritable, livid, offended, outraged, riled, steamed, storming, upset

"Nice"

amiable, charming, cordial, courteous, delightful, favorable, friendly, genial, gentle, gracious, helpful. inviting, kind, lovely, obliging, peaceful, peachy, pleasant, polite, swell, sympathetic, tender, welcoming, well-mannered, winning

"Pretty"

alluring, appealing, attractive, beautiful, charming, cute, delightful, desirable, elegant, eye-catching, fair, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, intriguing, lovely, pleasing, striking, stunning, sweet

"Said"

alleged, argued, asked, asserted, babbled, bellowed, bragged, commented, complained, cried, declined, demanded, denied, encouraged, expressed, giggled, growled, inquired, moaned, nagged, rebuked, rebutted, replied, rejected, retorted, roared, scolded, shrieked, shrugged, stated, taunted, vowed, warned, whined, whispered, yelled

"Went"

avoid, bolt, bound, depart, exit, escape, flee, fly, hike, hop, jaunt, jolt, journey, leap, leave, lurch, march, mosey, move, pace, parade, pass, progress, retreat, saunter, scoot, skip, split, step, stride, stroll, tour, travel, vanish

more words to use instead other words to use instead another list of words to use instead

When writing emotionally reserved characters:

Show your character's struggles with holding in emotions. Just because your character won't let themself go in public, doesn't mean they don't struggle holding everything in.

Find a motive. Pride and/or consideration for those around them can make emotionally reserved people hold back more than would be considered good for them. There are other reasons too, perhaps the initial cause and the reason now are different, but try to give them a reason.

Show side-effects. Everything you bottled up shows itself in another way, whether it's physical or mental. This can be long- and short-term, depending on the severity of the emotions.

Give them coping mechanisms. Everyone who wishes not to show certain emotions has a trick or two to keep themselves in check. Taking a sip of water, not looking people in the eyes, clenching their fists, breathing just a bit too deeply.

Write subconscious signs that they give off, which close friends or family might pick on. Just because these characters want to keep their emotions to themselves, doesn't mean they don't give off signs. Some manage to keep said signs well hidden from those closest to them, but it's more common for environment to pick up on something at the very least.

So y’all know the classic edge trope of “my blade cannot be sheathed until it has tasted blood”? What if a magic sword that has that requirement, except it’s sort of inverted. A sword that, instead of being inhabited by an evil spirit which once awakened cannot be lulled back to sleep except by blood sacrifice, was inhabited by a benevolent spirit who would not allow the sword to be drawn unless bloodshed were the only possible solution. A sword whose power could never be misused because it would only allow itself to be used in situations where it was justified. What about a Paladin who spends their entire journey fighting with a sheathed sword, incapacitating but never killing or maiming. The party believes that the Paladin has taken an oath of no killing, until they face the big villain. And it is in that moment, and that moment alone, that the sword will allow itself to be drawn.

Idk, this image set my mindwheels a-turning.

But do y’all see the vision?

On Theodreseax

Note recovered from the Library of Tarbrind, following the disappearance of it's author, John Heldefson, Field Scholar.

Theodreseax, by his own admission, is a dragon of many flaws: pretentious, selfish, irredeemably paranoid, and unashamedly rude when the occasion arises. He neither favors nor despises humans, treating them with a mixture of distant disinterest and dismissive superiority. Upon our first meeting, I was bound to a contract with my life as its wager, a fact I remain rather displeased with, though there is little to be done now. I cannot reveal his exact location, as that information is under the same.

Theodreseax is a dragon of considerable size, measuring some 450 feet from snout to tail. His slim frame and elongated, spiny horns make him appear even larger than his already impressive bulk. His scales are a brilliant red, with black spines running down his back, and his underbelly shines a softer, burnt orange. His scales, larger than a man’s hand, shimmer like polished gems. While his original breath weapon was a thick, viscous flame, he has since altered himself, allowing him to produce an astoundingly lethal vapor, a trait he learned to protect the unique nature of his hoard. He admits himself to be 495 years old, born on the final day of Emperor Halifax the Tenth, on the fifth day of Malice.

Theodreseax is not a stereotypical (and almost always incorrect) hoarder of gold or jewels that legend makes out dragons to be. Instead, his lair beneath the ruins of an ancient castle is packed floor-to-ceiling with books, manuscripts, relics, and untold quantities of knowledge. His treasure is information, and he brokers it with those who can meet his price—typically another secret or piece of valuable lore. This vast chamber is his domain, a world unto itself where even the air seems heavy with the weight of the knowledge stored within.

Curiously, He does not dwell in solitude. He is attended by a group of beings he refers to as Dragonians or, as some legends name them, Kobolds. These creatures range in height from 4 to 7 feet, their anatomy bearing similarities to humans but with distinct draconic features, including long, lizard-like tails and elongated, snouted faces lined with sharp, triangular teeth. Their scales are small, about the length of a finger, and they appear to be warm-blooded. Their eyes are piercing and bright, and seem to glow with a light from within after the manner of true dragons. While sentient and clearly understanding my speech, they did not converse with me, leading me to believe that their silence is out of duty rather than incapacity. They are dressed in the style of the old imperial maids, who famously refrained from all speech during their duties. I must admit I find this likeness equal parts disconcerting and hilarious. He claims there are more of their kind farther south, albeit they are few in number. I suppose I should not be surprised to find another sentient race beside human and dragon, though I am filled with wonder at this discovery.

Over the course of several days, He and I conversed extensively, during which I was able to purchase invaluable information concerning another topic of interest. He was particularly impressed with my method of locating the Fathomless Tomb, and he did not consider his debt to me fulfilled with the information i requested of him, and he offered me further information free of charge should I ever return. However, when pressed about Celethon or any matters regarding him, Theodreseax was not evasive, but outright refused any information. He seemed surprised and somewhat impressed when I presented the knowledge I had already gained on Celethon, but refused to offer more than correcting me in my physical description. When I inquired about his own secrecy, he insisted he had no interest in the "petty squabbles of such short-lived creatures." I could hardly argue with his perspective.

Upon departing from his lair, Theodreseax directed me through a peculiar wooden door reinforced with wrought iron bars. The door was surrounded by runes I did not recognize, and though I attempted to commit them to memory, I found them fading from my mind like a forgotten dream. Passing through the door, I was astounded to find myself not in some remote wilderness, but standing in a back alley in Tarbrind, many miles from where I had expected to emerge. Truly, Theodreseax is a keeper of endless secrets.

Because a few have asked

Teaboot's Super Okay Guide To Developing A Brain That Makes Art Work

Or: How to get your eyes to talk directly to your hands without your brain micromanaging you

Or: How to draw better

⚠️ Warning for super fast gifs cause they all gotta be 5 seconds or less or else my phone shits the bed ⚠️

1. Do the following exercises. Don't just think about doing them or figure out a clever way to not do them, just do them. Yes even the boring ones and the ones that look ugly

2. If you have any pride, crush it. Kill it. Crunch it up into itty bitty bits and feed it to the ducks at the park. You have no talent and don't know anything and everything you make is hot garbage. Believe that. Make yourself believe that. That is where you live now. Surrender any indignation or shame you have to the void and embrace rock bottom.

3. Read step 2 again and actually do it this time. My methods will not work if you try to make this process pretty. Don't.

4. No drawing from your imagination on these. Actually draw from real life. If it's boring like eating day old oatmeal in in beige room but your usual art still feels wonky then I'm talking to you specifically. You can't write poetry until you learn words and yes learning words is as dull as horseshit sometimes but do you wanna be Robert Frost or not

5. Pick up some cheap paper and a ballpoint pen. Grab a small object, between the size of your hand and the size of a microwave. Set a timer for fifteen minutes. Put the tip of your pen to the paper and press "start".

Now without looking at your paper, only looking at the object, draw the object in as much detail as you can. Do not break contact between the paper and the pen tip until the timer goes off.

This is a continuous line drawing, and you're doing it in pen because you need to know what rock bottom looks like and rock bottom looks like no eyes no erasers no shading no do-overs.

6. Sit down in a public place. As someone walks by, draw their their body in as much accuracy as you can before they are no longer in view. Once you can't see them anymore, the drawing is done. No adding details. Pick someone else and do it again. No "base sketch". Just them. If it barely looks human you're doing great

7. Get a black pen. Put a small object on a dark, flat surface. Now draw the surface without drawing the object. Don't draw the outline of the object. Don't do a sketch. Just draw the surface that is visible around the object until only a silhouette remains. No time limit just do it.

The ability to draw accurate proportions from sight comes from learning to see what exists between a thing and the absence of a thing and if that hurts to think about then you need to do it more

8. Keep doing these until you are Ready.

9. You will know when you are Ready. It will make sense when you are Ready. You will Understand.

10. Unwind with some goofy shit so you don't forget why you wanna improve to begin with

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

Magic and the Second Realm (Part 1)

The following document is transcribed from the heavily damaged original printing of Divine Theory, etc., By Magnus Helderon, Pioneer of magical research. This is the translated and abridged introductory section, for the magic lithograph, and unabridged text, refer to the branch headmaster of the Tarbrind Royal Library, Historical Division.

Introduction to the Text Magnus Helderon is a difficult to track figure. No one knows when or where he was born, or when he died. Only a single small portrait of him was made during his brief visit to Tarbrind. His grave is located in the royal crypts, after his exhumation from an obscure village in western Dragonspine area in 1368.

Magnus, a "folk wizard" hailing from the relatively unsettled southeastern region, was, by most accounts an "esoteric madman" who practiced some slight degree of what is commonly referred to as folk magic. He was reportedly taught by his grandmother to cure warts and witch for water and rain, among other things. He is believed to be the first person to discover the utility of the "Ember" found scattered across the world after the great cataclysm in 1253. Rather than share his findings, he delved into hermitage and studied the phenomenon ceaselessly. Despite having almost no formal teaching, He produced a 1758 page codex known as the Divine Theory, Of Magics, Embers, and Dragon-bone. It was written entirely in the Oldspeake, and was nearly unintelligible in handwriting. He personally delivered the book to the miniscule magician's guild of Tarbrind, only six months after the conclusion of the great famine, where it sat in storage for nearly a decade, completely unread.

The tome was recovered while the guild was preparing to relocate, its numbers bolstered by the recent emergence of ember magics following the incineration of Horus Tob some 18 months prior. By this time, the book was heavily water damaged. It rested in the hands of the Scribe's guild for nearly 3 years before the readable portions were translated and compiled into the Theory of Magics, a textbook used in teaching the fundamentals of magic to this day. (approx. 150 years later)

The first section, and final third of the book, some 700 pages total, were completely beyond recovery for several more years, before more advanced recovery techniques were developed. While some sections remain lost to history, What was recovered changed the fundamentals of magic forever.

Here is an audio transcript made with ElevenLabs. AI was NOT used to write this document.

When people say, “nature is my religion” are they talking about flies that feed on shit, maggots in decomposing corpses, lionesses with stained teeth and mouths full of blood? Are they talking about floods and fires and things from which we should always run? Are they talking about carcasses, rot, death?

Or do they just mean “this particular copse of benign trees is my religion”