Low level/continuous pain tips for writing
Want to avoid the action movie effect and make your character's injuries have realistic lasting impacts? Have a sick character you're using as hurt/comfort fodder? Everyone has tips for how to write Dramatic Intense Agony, but the smaller human details of lasting or low-level discomfort are rarely written in. Here are a few pain mannerisms I like to use as reference:
General
Continuously gritted teeth (may cause headaches or additional jaw pain over time)
Irritability, increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, etc
Repetitive movements (fidgeting, unable to sit still, slight rocking or other habitual movement to self-soothe)
Soft groaning or whimpering, when pain increases or when others aren't around
Heavier breathing, panting, may be deeper or shallower than normal
Moving less quickly, resistant to unnecessary movement
Itching in the case of healing wounds
Subconsciously hunching around the pain (eg. slumped shoulders or bad posture for gut pain)
Using a hand to steady themself when walking past walls, counters, etc (also applies to illness)
Narration-wise: may not notice the pain was there until it's gone because they got so used to it, or may not realize how bad it was until it gets better
May stop mentioning it outright to other people unless they specifically ask or the pain increases
Limb pain
Subtly leaning on surfaces whenever possible to take weight off foot/leg pain
Rubbing sore spots while thinking or resting
Wincing and switching to using other limb frequently (new/forgettable pain) or developed habit of using non dominant limb for tasks (constant/long term pain)
Propping leg up when sitting to reduce inflammation
Holding arm closer to body/moving it less
Moving differently to avoid bending joints (eg. bending at the waist instead of the knees to pick something up)
Nausea/fever/non-pain discomfort
Many of the same things as above (groaning, leaning, differences in movement)
May avoid sudden movements or turning head for nausea
Urge to press up against cold surfaces for fever
Glazed eyes, fixed stare, may take longer to process words or get their attention
Shivering, shaking, loss of fine motor control
If you have any more details that you personally use to bring characters to life in these situations, I'd love to hear them! I'm always looking for ways to make my guys suffer more write people with more realism :)
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Thraxia read through the checklist as the humans babbled between themselves.
"Whoah!" Rowan guffawed and blinked wide-eyed.
The other human chuckled with his deep voice. "How many brain cells did you just lose smelling that?"
Rowan offered the open bottle of liquid to Walker. "Take a whiff."
Finally, Thraxia completed the review and turned to see what the odd creatures were conversing about. Dread filled their chitinous body as they saw Human Rowan holding an *OPEN* bottle of Solution 63. "What are you doing?!" Thraxia covered their orifices and backed away. "The fumes from that are highly toxic!"
Human Walker stepped back cautiously, but the rather dense Human Rowan breathed another waft of the bottle's toxic gases. How was he not dead? Thraxia was thoroughly confused yet intrigued.
A wide-smile creeped across Rowan's face as he held the bottle out to Walker. "Smell it."
Thraxia winced as Walker took the Solution he hesitated for a second before bringing it to his nose. He recoiled from the smell, but smiled as well. "Is that...?"
"I think so!" Rowan laughed as he took the bottle back. Thraxia relaxed their scales, perhaps Humans are resistant to the gases. But then, Human Rowan put the bottle's opening to his lips and INGESTED THE SOLUTION. Thraxia began to panic. Surely the human would now die if they didn't receive medical attention, but the comms unit was next to the door which they stood in front of. There was no way to get to it without being exposed to the gas.
Rowan's face distorted as he pulled away from the bottle. Surprisingly, he wasn't collapsing or convulsing. "Well?" Walker asked.
Rowan smiled, "It's pretty good."
"Are you two okay?" Thraxia called.
"Yeah, were fine. What are you-"
"Hey boys." They were interrupted by the third resident human coming in the door.
"Careful!" Thraxia called. They didn't know if Female Humans were as resilient as the Males. "There is toxic gas!"
"Gas?" The Human Lily asked.
"They're referring to this, try some." Rowan handed the bottle to her.
"What? I'm not drinking that, I don't even know what it is." Lily rejected the bottle.
Rowan gently shook the bottle, surely agitating the dangerous Solution 63. "Its good~" He smiled.
"Did you drink it?" Lily's eyes went wide. "Oh god, Rowan..." she groaned, rubbing her eyebrows. "Alright, let's take a sample to the lab and make sure you didn't just poison yourself."
And so, they capped the bottle of Solution 63. The humans retrieved a respirator for Thraxia at their request and they all convened in the lab. Lily took a pipette sample from the bottle and dropped it in the analysis machine. Less than 30 seconds later a molecular breakdown was displayed on the monitor.
"Let's see..." Lily looked over the results. "Oh, okay. You'll be fine, Rowan. It's relatively harmless." Walker chuckled as he read the results.
"Harmless?!" Thraxia exclaimed, muffled by the respirator they refused to remove. "It's poison!" They pointed to the screen which read: 'Alcohol, 40% by Volume.'
Rowan laughed. "Poison? Baby, this is Goofy Juice!"
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Rest
Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all.
You can also find this on ao3.
No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.
At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner.
However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.
You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.
So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.
It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.
At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.
“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.
Of course.
It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.
You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.
“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.
“Yes.”
“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”
“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.
Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.
“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.
Really, when did he get so tired?
And how did you not notice it earlier?
You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.
Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.
You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.
Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.
Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.
“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.
Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.
“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”
“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.
Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.
But sometimes you really wish it would be.
Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.
Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.
“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”
You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.
“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”
Still, Jamil frowns.
You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?
“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.
And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.
“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.
It seems he has accepted his fate.
You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.
And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.
Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request
If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!
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