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This from In Writing, a collection of writers reflecting on practice, really resonated with me.

Good morning, you have to be the thing that saves you

No character is going to live unscathed.

We writers seem to be an expert at getting our darlings bashed up, beaten and abused (sometimes to the point of insanity). That' great, and let's make sure we are doing it right.

Cuts and Scrapes

The area will immediately begin to swell up.

Blood rushes to accelerate the healing process, and that makes the skin around the wound look red and swollen, and it will feel warm (though not hot).

Most wounds wouldn't bleed too much, unless it's a head injury.

Try to give indications of how severe the wound is.

How wide is the injury? How far does it stretch across the character's body? Can bone be seen? Is blood seeping into their clothes or pooling underneath them?

Is it a clean slice, or is it torn open? Have parts of the flesh been pulled away?

How much does the wound frighten the injured character?

Bruises

When the injury is first sustained, it will look swollen and red.

Over time, the bruise will darken to a shade of blue, purple, or black.

After that, it will gradually turn yellow or green. Then it will turn brown and eventually fade away.

The word choice matters!

Describing a bruise as a "contusion" creates a violent connotation, while "blemish" doesn't sound so harsh.

Describing bruises as "discolored" or "shadows" comes with a more melancholy connotation.

How They Feel

An injury from blunt trauma, such as a bruise, is going to feel dull, and like it's throbbing.

It will feel stiff and firm from the swelling, and it may sting if touched.

As the bruise ages, it may feel tender and sore, but only when pressure is applied or the area is moved.

A wound from a sharp object, however, is likely to feel hot, tingly, or numb.

The pain may be delayed, but after the initial rush of adrenaline wears off, the pain from this type of injury will be fairly constant.

Scrapes tend to feel hot and itchy, and the scab from a nasty scrape can cover a wide area. It will also get itchier as it heals, motivating the character to pick at it and delay healing.

Healing Duration

The time it takes an injury to heal is going to depend on the severity of the injury.

As a general rule, however:

Bruises take about 2 weeks Scrapes take about 1 week

Minor cuts take about 2 weeks

Surgical incisions and sutured wounds take about 4-6 weeks

A bad wound that doesn't get stitches could take up to 3 months

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if you've been hearing less about gaza lately, it's because most of the journalists are dead. hassan eslayeh, who was murdered yesterday in his hospital bed by israel, had 351 videos archived on tiktokgenocide.com (an online archive of israeli atrocities i recommend you browse). this single journalist alone had contributed 351 videos. the same database lists that 252 journalists have been killed in gaza since october 7th. the cpj's archive of journalists killed is 178. they have a more conservative and less accurate estimate since they have less information on those media workers who work with local outlets.

regardless of the exact number, the number of journalists killed is so high that it is markedly affecting the footage and documentation we have coming out of gaza now. let me prove it to you: 70 people were killed today, May 14th 2025. did you know that?

Anti-villain motivations besides "tragic past"

They do bad things because they’re scared.

They’re gullible or misinformed. Example: somebody who has been told the heroes are out to hurt them.

They are desperate for interaction, validation, kindness, or attention, and the dark side gives them those things. 

They want to change their allegiance, but are pressured by people close to them to stay evil.

They have an otherwise noble goal that they will do literally anything to achieve. Example: somebody who wants to protect their child, even if it means throwing other children into danger.

Dreamlike Laughter

Reality kisses his sleepless nights, until he dreams of her again.

“Really wish you weren’t here anymore, love,” Milas tells Zimi, sitting by the window of his apartment. When he squints outside, the moonlight gleams too sharply off of the blades of grass. 

He needs to tell her tonight. Right here in the dreamscape she made for them to meet across the mountains and rivers between. 

She barks out a short laugh, but her shoulders hunch. She begins, “I don’t know who I can trust enough to practice this type of spell. I truly didn’t know I was bothering, hones—”

‘I miss sneaking mom’s pastries to you and spending all night awake because you got a new board game and you’re a horrible, horrible cheater and.’ Words. Words tangle in his mouth, so he blurts out, ‘And, I miss all the ands.’

Quick as a wildfire, she grasps his face with both her hands. He never feels them, but he can see her dark eyes looking into his sandy ones. In these moments, he thinks her a phantom. That the sentinels who swore their loyalty to her killed her before she could cross the city’s borders. With their history, the years stretching like scars on knobby knees and dolls, he could create something real enough to fool him. 

Something creaks, like twigs snapping under a wheel. It takes Milas back to the evening before, his hand digging into Elijah’s wheelchair, light stubble not smooth skin, and soft hair brown not black under his hands. When he pulls away abruptly, she puts her hands up in surrender. 

The view outside the window fades into fog, but so do the corners of his room. He needs to tell her. 

‘I’m sorry, Kazimiera’ he chokes out. ‘I don’t deserve you.’ He slips onto his knees. Promises broken in a heartbeat, heartbeats jackrabbitting with Elijah’s laugh and the way he calls him endearments in something called French, and Milas was such a fool for the litany of mon chou, trésor, amour. 

After a pause she says, ‘You kissed someone? ’

He shakes his head vehemently, ‘I didn’t, but I wanted to. I almost did.’

The world stills, or maybe it’s too loud in his head: exile, treason, Elijah. The fog obscures his vision until he can’t see anything past the table. 

She grins up at him as if he’s the stupidest person on the planet, and asks, ‘And selfishly hoard your heart all to myself? I couldn’t fit it in the biggest rooms of the palace.’

All air rushes out of his lungs in a sharp exhale, dizzy with relief until he is gasping in short breaths—her forgiveness cooling the splinters under his skin. 

When she leans forward to speak in his ear to tell her about him, he is back at the couch with a flickering lamp’s terrible wiring. 

He is still talking about him when the fogs submerges him fully.

When he opens his eyes, Elijah’s laughter down the hallway is made of dreams. 

Vibes for Softly Tortured Characters

For the ones who make you want to wrap them in a blanket and also scream “JUST TALK TO SOMEONE.”

Always looks like they didn’t sleep (because they didn’t)

Talks like they’re about to say something else, but never does

Constantly touches their sleeves/jewelry/lip, like if they’re not holding something, they’ll fall apart

Laughs too easily, but it never quite reaches their eyes

Over-apologizes for things no one noticed

Craves affection but flinches when they get it

Body language = trying to take up as little space as possible

Flashes of unexpected rage, like pressure finally cracking glass

Always says “I’m fine” in a tone that screams “Please ask again”

Cries alone, then wipes their face like it’s a secret

Feels safest in chaos because stillness feels like waiting for pain

Thinks being loved means being a burden

Cannot remember the last time they were truly, fully relaxed

Keeps people at arm’s length, but is the first to drop everything if someone else needs help

Treats their own joy like it's a luxury they didn’t earn

If any of y’all didn’t know, there’s a free online library, aka

https://openlibrary.org/

and I found like, twelve ebooks I’ve been wanting to read on there, and blasted through like three of them during the course of a boring-ass shift.