warydoom

[warydoom]

What?????

[warydoom]

Ok ok ok but hear me out.

Does Damian ever find out? Oh he does. And it is so messy.

Picture it: it’s late, the manor’s dead quiet except for the soft scritch of pencil on paper because Damian is sketching by the enclosure. The little brown bat (his little bat, his one soft thing in this house) crawls onto his shoulder like always.

And Damian, not even thinking, murmurs in this tired fond voice, “You’re too clever for a simple creature.”

And Danny. Danny freezes. Too long. Too stiff. The kind of stillness that isn’t animal at all.

And Damian just stills, eyes narrowing. “…Who are you?”

And then it’s like something breaks open.

Danny shifts before he can stop himself. Half boy, half ghost, shaking so hard he almost falls, blurting out words so fast they trip over each other:

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to trick you into liking me I just. I wanted. I didn’t know how else. Please don’t hate me I’ll go back I can be the bat again I can I can just please don’t. Don’t look at me like that.”

He’s crying without realizing it, scrubbing at his face with hands that flicker green at the edges, choking on words like, “You hated me, you said I wasn’t. I wasn’t your brother, you said you were the only one and I. I just wanted. I just wanted you to love me I didn’t mean. Please don’t tell, please don’t make me go.”

And Damian. Damian is silent. Not angry. Not yelling. Just staring with those wide, dark eyes.

Then, finally he says, soft, wrecked, a little bit furious but not at Danny: “…You are my brother. You always were. You fool.”

And Danny just crumples, sobbing harder because he doesn’t know how to carry that, doesn’t know how to let himself have it, whispering over and over, “I can be the bat again, I can be good, I can be better, I can, I can...”

And Damian, with hands that tremble just once before they steady, cups his face like he might break it and says, low and certain, “You don’t have to be anything else. You are enough.”

# Dcu x Dp 120

Danny is Damian's younger brother who was killed by his hands. When Danny found him he wanted to be with him again but he knew Damian hated him and that he probably still does considering he claims that he's the only blood son that his father had.

Danny sees how nice he is to animals and decides to transform into an animal so he can finally be able to get Damians love

[warydoom]

Reblog chain? Oh, we’re doing chaos today, ok.

Last week I named a moth living in my kitchen “Gregory” and now I say good morning to him like we’re in a deeply tragic period drama. Like, “Ah… good morning, Gregory. I see you’ve survived another night in this wretched flat. May our fates remain intertwined a little longer.”

your turn 👇✨ @viki23spots,@cryingoverdeadgaywizzards, @deswhomst, @m4iloblu3, @nondelphic

Say something random about yourself reblog chain!

I’ve never tried peanut butter and I’m not even allergic to it

@caligulas-right-wing @scroofy-was-here @bluewillmeetyellow @delicatetigerobject @somewiseouttheree @fart-knocker321 and anyone else (no pressure)

[warydoom]

Damian and Bruce are now covered in baby vomit that glows and smells faintly of bubble gum. Danny is crying. Wailing, really.

Dick: *tapping glass with spoon* Bruce: Yes, Dick? Would you like to say something? Dick: I would yes. Family, I gathered you all here- Jason: You didn't gather anyone. We all came because Alfred asked us to. Dick: Ah-hm. I gathered you all here to make an important announcement. I am now a father. Bruce: *Choking on his drink* Tim: *Waking from his face-down nap in the soup* Jason: *Falling over from where he was leaning in his chair* Steph: *Gasping around the food she stuffed into her cheeks like a squirrel* Damian: *Scratching his plate by accident from shock* Cass: Congratulations. Dick: Thank you Cass! Would you like to meet Danny? Cass: Yes. Dick: *Clapping his hands* Alfred: *Bursting into the room, pushing an old-style baby carriage and Walking on Sunshine blaring from the speaker clip to his belt* I present The Baby. Dick: Meet my little boy! Danny Grayson! *Holding up a five-month-old child in his arms* I made him! Bruce bursting into tears: He's beautiful! Bravo! Bravo Dick, this is the best thing you ever made. I'm a grandpa! Jason: Made him with whom? Dick: Wally! Or a version of Wally. Danny is from a different dimension, and Wally was a woman over there named Maddie, but that universe got blown up. The Time God of their timeline saved Danny by sending this little bundle of joy to me in a dream. Wally showed up after the SpeedForce told him about the baby, and now we're co-parenting Danny. Tim: That's a lot to unpack from Bruce sobbing in happiness, to Alfred showing up with theme music to you and your best friend being parents. I don't know where to start. Damian: I do. Why has West not approached the family for your hand in marriage yet? Dick: There wasn't time Dami. We got Danny this morning. Damian: That's no excuse. The man runs fast enough to turn back time. Obviously, he is unfit to raise my nephew. I must make Danny a child of a single father. Bruce, between sobs: Kill the speedster. Dick: No.

[warydoom]

In Defense of the Girl Who’s All Teeth

Good morning to everyone except people who think “unlikeable female characters” are a flaw and not a challenge. It’s 2:30 AM. I have once again paused mid-scene because a girl with blood in her mouth and murder in her heart did something emotionally devastating while pretending not to care, and I had to physically stand up and walk in a small circle like I was being haunted. I am trembling. I am in love.

Because here’s the thing.

I am never more feral than when I encounter her—the girl who’s all knives and bite radius. The one who never apologizes first. Who loves so loudly it sounds like rage. Who survived something no one saw and learned to snarl instead of sob. She is defensive to the point of sabotage. She would rather choke on her feelings than be the first to admit she has them.

If you call her brave, she’ll spit. If you call her cruel, she’ll flinch. And if you understand her, if you see her, she’ll try to kill you before you can say it twice. I adore her. She is not soft. She is not safe. She will not cry pretty. She is the logical conclusion of a world that punished vulnerability, and she is still her.

And yet — people look at her and say she’s too much. Too harsh. Too angry. Too bitter. Too sharp. To which I say: Good. She was never meant to be palatable. She was meant to survive. She is every girl who was told to calm down. To sit still. To be nice. To be forgiving.

She is what happens when a girl learns that smiling won’t save her. But a growl might. She is a triumph of emotional resistance. She is the consequence of injustice. And still, somewhere under the rubble, she wants to be loved. Not tamed. Not redeemed. Loved.

Do you understand what kind of power that is? What kind of holy, brutal honesty it takes to write a girl who is ugly with grief, unyielding with fear, and still cracks, just slightly, when someone chooses to stay? When someone offers her gentleness and doesn’t expect her to return it? When someone says, “You don’t have to be soft for me. Just don’t lie about how tired you are.” That’s when the blade drops. That’s when the teeth become trembling. That’s when she lets herself be held.

This girl doesn’t fall in love. She fights it. She claws at it. She will push the hand away until it comes back twice. And when she finally, finally reaches for it? You will feel everything.

So yes, I will defend the girl who’s all teeth. The “unlikeable” one. The angry one. The cold one. The cruel one. The one who only knows how to love in threats and reckless sacrifice. She is trying. And if you let her have her arc. If you give her the dignity of fear, and failure, and the chance to choose love anyway—she will give you a moment so emotionally unhinged it’ll live in your chest forever.

Let her be sharp. Let her be monstrous. Let her be messy, and petty, and wrong. And then let her be loved anyway.

Anyway. It’s late, I’m feral, and I want to hear about your bitey blorbo girls. Drop them in the tags like offerings. Who’s your snarling angel? Your disaster siren? Your thorn-covered saint with blood under her nails?

[warydoom]

I also got crack treated seriously!

Can’t lie, that’s pretty accurate 😅

[warydoom]

CAT PARADE!

[warydoom]

I’m writing a polyamorous romance between two priests who are already together and a doctor who’s there to treat one of them for a secret illness.

I’m at the point where the three of them seperately know they’re attracted to each other. I’m stuck on how to get them from “We all have pants feelings and this is wrong” to the priests saying “we should have doctor join us in a Triad”

I do know that when the doctor finds out about this offer she tries to do that right thing and tries to leave but she gets rained on. She decides it’s a sign she needs to stay and do what makes her happy.

How to Ask Your Doctor to Join Your Triad Without Losing Your Soul

— now with rain, religious angst, and bisexual crisis management

THE EMOTIONAL DISASTER PIPELINE

(Use one. Or all at once, for maximum explosion.)

1. THE MUTUAL BISEXUAL PANIC + VULNERABILITY BOMB

They all know but pretend no one knows. It’s awkward and tense.

Catalyst: The sick priest’s illness explodes into vulnerability: a fever haze, a panic, a slip of truth.

“Don’t leave us.” Not just me.

“My two angels. I’m sorry.”

Mixing up names in delirium.

This accidental confession hangs heavy in the air, forcing all three to confront feelings they wanted to hide.

Meanwhile: lingering touches, stolen glances during care, whispered “Jesus Christ” for totally non-spiritual reasons.

2. THE GREEN-EYED GOD + CARE & INTIMACY CRACKS

The healthy priest watches. Jealous? Kinda. More like terrified.

Catalyst: He witnesses an intimate, tender moment. Maybe the doctor asleep in a chair after spending all night with the sick priest, or her quietly crying after a rough turn, either way, it's something gentle.

He realizes:

“She’s not a rival. She’s the missing piece.”

Soft night shifts, candlelit conversations, wrists brushing… They realize this new connection fits without replacing what they already have.

3. THE FIRST TALK (THE WORST IDEA) + PROFESSIONALISM BREAK

They finally speak, but it’s messy and scared.

“Have you noticed how she looks at you?

“Do you think she...?”

“Is this insane?”

“Yes. But I want it too.”

Catalyst: The doctor, overwhelmed by feelings and ethics, drops the bomb:

“I can’t keep being his doctor. This is a conflict of interest.”

This forces the priests’ hands. The healthy priest stammers:

“Don’t go. This ‘conflict’… maybe it’s the only thing holding us together.”

It’s no polished proposal. It’s raw, scared, beautiful confession.

NEXT STEP: THE PROPOSAL + THE RAIN DISASTER

They ask her to join them. She panics.

“This is wrong. I care about them too much to say yes.”

She leaves. And it rains. Biblical, soul-cleansing rain that mirrors their grief and hope.

THE RETURN: WET, DONE WITH DENIAL

She stands in the rain until she realizes:

“I want them. They want me. I’m done pretending.”

She returns, soaking wet, vulnerable, and raw. One priest opens the door; the other offers a towel. Someone finally says:

“Stay.”

THE TALK: SOFT, MESSY, REAL

Wrapped in blankets, they talk honestly:

“This won’t be easy.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“We love you.”

She says it back. Not because of the rain, but because the truth is louder than fear.

[warydoom]

AO3 and Tumblr are in a long-term situationship where one writes 50k slow burn epics and the other screams about it in the tags.

The only healthy ship I ship is AO3 and Tumblr

[warydoom]

AO3 and Tumblr are in a long-term situationship where one writes 300k slow burn epics and the other screams about it in the tags.

The only healthy ship I ship is AO3 and Tumblr

[warydoom]

“Also. Tell Alfred. I forgive the soup.”

Writers, reblog with your favorite sentence from your last fic

[warydoom]

I have spent all my life wondering where breasted boobily comes from. I should have known tumblr was the answer.

Male writers writing female characters:

“Cassandra woke up to the rays of the sun streaming through the slats on her blinds, cascading over her naked chest. She stretched, her breasts lifting with her arms as she greeted the sun. She rolled out of bed and put on a shirt, her nipples prominently showing through the thin fabric. She breasted boobily to the stairs, and titted downwards.”

[warydoom]

Hiya!

I have thought through stuff and wanted to ask if you could make a little guide...or something for me and anyone else with my huge problem.

It seems....I can't write wholesomeness! Cause you said that the character Simon seems "fishy". (To all other people: Basically, Simon was comforting another character. That is not the vibe that scene was giving off)

That vibe will unfortunately ruin a whole lot of scenes to come. So, maybe? How do I make a person "sound" sincere and comforting; not creepy or fishy? Cause I thought I was projecting love and care.

Any advice?

THE BIG GUIDE TO WRITING WHOLESOME VIBES

(aka How To Stop Accidentally Writing Emotional Manipulators)

Step 1: Ask: Who Has the Power Right Now?

Any time one character is comforting another, especially after trauma, power dynamics matter. Ask yourself:

Is the comforting character older? In a position of authority?

Do they know more than the person they’re comforting?

Are they physically closer, or touching the other person?

If the answer to any of these is yes, the comforting character’s behavior needs to be extra careful not to cross into infintalizing, pushy, or invasive territory, even if they mean well.

Tip: Give the hurt character agency. Let them speak first. Let them say “no” to something. Let them lead the tone.

Step 2: Soften the Speech

Characters often sound creepy when their comfort talk is too smooth, too rehearsed, or too moralizing.

Sincerity isn’t always perfect. It’s raw. It rambles. It contradicts itself. It stops mid-sentence.

Avoid:

Long speeches with a clear agenda

Phrases like “you should…” or “our priority is…”

Talking like a therapist with a script

Instead:

Add pauses, hesitations, backtracking

Let the character say, “I don’t know” or “That’s what I tell myself”

Show emotion in their delivery: sighs, eye contact, failed attempts

Step 3: Touch Must Be Earned

Touch is a powerful comfort tool — but without permission or emotional build-up, it can feel off.

A comforting character who touches without warning — even just holding a hand or stroking hair — can accidentally read as controlling, possessive, or invasive, especially in vulnerable scenes.

Instead:

Have them ask for permission: “Can I hold your hand?”

Wait for initiation: “He offered a hand, but didn’t force it.”

And let the touch be clumsy, or hesitant: “They almost pulled away, then stayed.”

Step 4: Make It a Conversation, Not a Monologue

Comforting scenes often fall flat when one character talks too much, while the other just listens and reacts.

Comfort isn’t, and never will be, a TED Talk. It’s not a moral or life lesson. It’s a shared space.

Instead:

Let the comforted person interrupt, contradict, ask questions

Include moments of silence, awkwardness, or deflection

Make the comforting character stop and say: “Do you want to talk about it?” (That's my favorite. The answer doesn't even have to be yes. Just let them ask.)

Step 5: Be Careful With Logic During Emotion

Sometimes the comforting character means to be reassuring: “See? It’s not your fault!” but ends up sounding like they’re dismissing the other person’s feelings.

Logic doesn’t always comfort. It can often sound like minimizing pain.

Instead:

Acknowledge emotion first, before facts: “That must be so overwhelming. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”

Reassure with presence, not proof: “Even if none of this makes sense, I’m here.”

Step 6: Comfort Happens In the Small Stuff

The most effective comfort often comes from the smallest moments:

A blanket pulled over someone’s shoulders

A quiet “I’ve got you” when no one else is around

Sitting nearby without talking

TLDR, Check Your Comfort Scene For:

Who’s in control? (Power check)

Is the dialogue too perfect? (Sincerity check)

Was the touch asked for? (Consent check)

Is it a shared moment? (Balance check)

Does it feel emotionally true, or just logical? (Vibe check)

And remember: “I’m here” can hit harder than a thousand pretty speeches. Hope this helps!

[warydoom]

I’m writing a story, and i want one of the main characters to betray the protagonist so throughly that she kills him immediately. The problem is, I have no idea what this betrayal should be. How should I go about discovering what this is?

for context, this is a tragic romance. The man is a king, the woman is a elevated peasant. They are both mages, the only ones like each other in their entire country. The man betrays her, but when he does it he doesn’t think he’s betraying her, in fact, he thinks he’s doing a rather romantic gift. “I did it for you” sort of betrayal.

Tragic Love Isn’t Dead, But He’s About To Be

Let’s talk romantic delusion meets irreversible betrayal, the kind where the betrayer is so convinced they’re being noble or loving, and the person they “loved” is like: you absolute monster.

Here are some gut-wrenching, horrifying-but-logical (to him) options:

1. He rewrites her memory "for her own good"

“I took away the pain. Why are you crying?”

Maybe she experienced something traumatic - dealers choice on what exactly. He erases the memories without asking, reshaping her into a version of herself that’s “happier,” more “fit” for her new role.

She finds out. And realizes he would rather mold her than love her as she is.

She kills him not just for what he did, but because she knows he would do it again.

2. He executes someone she begged him to spare

“He was going to ruin you. I protected what we have.”

Could be a childhood friend. A lover from before. Someone who knew the truth about her past.

He sees them as a threat to her happiness, and gets rid of them quietly. Mercifully. He’ll never admit it was jealousy, but it was.

He frames it as a mercy. She frames it as death.

3. He binds her magic to himself permanently

“But you said you never wanted to be alone again.”

He finds a way to fuse their powers so they’re always connected. Always aware of each other. Except. It’s invasive. Violating. She can’t cast without him. Can’t even think without feeling him there.

He thinks it’s romantic. Unity. The ultimate bond. Soulmates, like he read in the books. She sees it for what it is: a cage.

And when she tries to sever it, she finds out it can only be undone if he dies. So she makes her choice.

4. He kills her entire family

“They held you back. They reminded you you were nothing. But you’re not. You’re mine. You’re more.”

He has her entire family executed, as a kindness. He thinks their death will liberate her:

No more peasant ties.

No more guilt or split loyalty.

She can now be “fully his” : a mage, a queen, elevated without strings.

Maybe he even builds them a beautiful grave and has her portrait painted in mourning. He thinks she’ll weep with gratitude.

She doesn’t. She sees red. And then he sees nothing ever again.

5. National cruelty in her name.

“They love you now. Because I made them fear you.”

To secure her place in court, he performs mass executions - or burnings of anyone who disrespects her: minor nobles, peasants who scoffed, that one baker who refused to haggle.

And he credits the acts to her. He says:

“I made them see you as powerful. I gave them your justice. You’re adored.”

She’s horrified.

Her name is stained with blood she didn’t ask for.

The people fear her.

She’s now isolated in an empire that whispers of her cruelty.

This betrayal is about the death of her soul and ideals. And the realization that to him, love and domination are the same.

How to Choose?

Ask yourself:

What does she value most? (Freedom? Family? Her identity? Mercy?)

What does he love about her? And how might he try to preserve or enhance that in a terrible way?

What betrayal would feel like a beautiful gift from him and a knife in her heart?

Once you know her red line, the one thing that is sacred to her - make him step over it with flowers in his hands.

[warydoom]

You have! This is for that one vampire hyperfixation that comes to me periodically.

Whispered as One

TW: Depictions of Violence, Violent Imagery, Blood Mention, Intense Power Dynamics, Themes of Obsession, Past Homicidal Intent , Dark Themes / Intense Emotional Content, Religious Themes

i wanted your death | i wanted your gaze spat prayers through teeth | set temples ablaze

you laughed at my wounds | you bled when i grinned i called you a monster | i taught you to sin

my stake had a name | my fangs had a spell you ruined my faith | i showed you my enteral hell

i swore you were evil | i swore you were mine but every dark oath | still tasted like wine

i hated your voice | i loved when you lied i cursed your touch | i begged you to try

you struck like a storm | i kissed like a knife was this death, or desire? | was this curse, or life?

i held you too long | i bit far too deep you poisoned my dreams | you wandered my sleep

was it mercy, or madness? | was it fear, or a vow? i should’ve killed you | you should’ve left - now

but i didn’t let go | and you didn’t resist my hand at your throat | your lips at my wrist

and god, i still tried | and love, i still burned but the hate turned to heat | and the craving returned

i swore i’d hate you forever | i swore i’d never feel but blood binds deeper than words| and wounds that time can heal

your name’s still a curse | your touch's still a sin but still i’m tethered | and still i’m in

i am the sinner | i am the sin blood on my hands | fire on my skin

hate was the start | love was the ash we burned together | and learned to last

kisses like ash | kisses like ash whispered as one | whispered as one

The Sinner | The Sin

Now again we'll begin

[warydoom]

Whispered as One

TW: Depictions of Violence, Violent Imagery, Blood Mention, Intense Power Dynamics, Themes of Obsession, Past Homicidal Intent , Dark Themes / Intense Emotional Content, Religious Themes

i wanted your death | i wanted your gaze spat prayers through teeth | set temples ablaze

you laughed at my wounds | you bled when i grinned i called you a monster | i taught you to sin

my stake had a name | my fangs had a spell you ruined my faith | i showed you my enteral hell

i swore you were evil | i swore you were mine but every dark oath | still tasted like wine

i hated your voice | i loved when you lied i cursed your touch | i begged you to try

you struck like a storm | i kissed like a knife was this death, or desire? | was this curse, or life?

i held you too long | i bit far too deep you poisoned my dreams | you wandered my sleep

was it mercy, or madness? | was it fear, or a vow? i should’ve killed you | you should’ve left - now

but i didn’t let go | and you didn’t resist my hand at your throat | your lips at my wrist

and god, i still tried | and love, i still burned but the hate turned to heat | and the craving returned

i swore i’d hate you forever | i swore i’d never feel but blood binds deeper than words| and wounds that time can heal

your name’s still a curse | your touch's still a sin but still i’m tethered | and still i’m in

i am the sinner | i am the sin blood on my hands | fire on my skin

hate was the start | love was the ash we burned together | and learned to last

kisses like ash | kisses like ash whispered as one | whispered as one

The Sinner | The Sin

Now again we'll begin

[warydoom]

Why should we fight? Let's work together!

⚠️ I’m Bored and Emotionally Available for Your Writing Problems ⚠️

hi. I have free time and a normal (dangerous) amount of enthusiasm. this is a formal announcement that I will now be accepting:

🩷 your writing

💔 your weird plot tangents

🧠 your character crises

🧂 your salt

🐛 your grammar bugs

🗣️ your “does this sentence slap or does it suck?” panic

🎭 Character arc confusion

🤯 Plot hole panic at 2am that you need resolved NOW

Fanfiction? Yes. Original work? A poem ? A song? Also yes. Anything.

Fandom I don’t know? That’s fine. I can still help you make it make sense.

No context, just vibes and 17 tabs of Google open.

NO QUESTION IS STUPID.

I will answer everything.

Even if it’s “should they kiss or fight or both.” Especially if it’s that.

Seriously. Ask me anything. I’ve asked Google (And never ai, long live free writing) “can characters cry too much?” so you’re safe with me.

Services include - but are not limited to:

Yelling about character arcs

Untangling spaghetti-plot

Hyping up your OC like they just won Eurovision

Telling you gently that “he smirked darkly” may not be the move

Being emotionally destroyed by your WIP and thanking you for it

Check my blog for fandoms I know, but even if I don’t, tag me in, coach. I'm ready.

Please. Let me be your chaos editor / plot therapist / comma wrangler.

This service is valid until I make a post saying it is not. This will not happen for at least a week.