warydoom

[warydoom]

The Woes Of A Writer

I am going to SCREAM. My brain is currently 90% pigment particle size and 10% the optimal shelf placement for oversized stretcher bars. I swear, writing this artist mc fic is genuinely turning me into an accidental art supply expert, and half of what I'm learning I probably won't even use.

My mc works in an art shop, right? So he needs to know his materials. Which means I need to know his materials. And that knowledge is EXTENSIVE.

Do you know the exact difference between a kolinsky sable brush and a synthetic squirrel hair brush for watercolor washes? Because I do. Do you know the specific ASTM lightfastness rating for a particular tube of quinacridone magenta? I've researched it. I just spent an hour down a rabbit hole trying to understand the nuances of cold press versus hot press watercolor paper for different ink applications, including the cotton content and sizing methods.

And the colors. OH MY GOODNESS THE COLORS. "Would this particular shop stock a full range of Sennelier Artist Oils next to a more budget-friendly line of System3 Acrylics? And if so, how would the mc physically arrange them on the display rack to highlight quality while still making the cheaper options accessible?" "What's the best way to describe the texture of a freshly mixed, architectural-grade titanium white designed for exterior murals versus a standard tube of interior artist's white, in terms of viscosity and coverage?" "How does the shop's fluorescent versus LED lighting subtly alter the perceived hue of the 'mildly displeased pigeon grey' custom blend before it leaves the store, especially for a customer who's very particular?"

I am learning about the varying levels of archival quality for every single item – from the gesso on the canvases to the fixative sprays, down to the acid-free properties of backing boards for framed prints. I'm researching the ideal wood type for studio easels and the optimal way to prevent a stack of large format paper from warping due to changes in ambient humidity. My search history is a parade of "best palette knife shapes and their steel composition," "drying times of various oil mediums (linseed vs. walnut)," and "proper storage of pastel sticks to prevent smudging and breakage."

And here's the kicker: half of this incredibly granular detail, this deep dive into the very fabric of the art world, might just end up as a single, passing sentence or a subtle background detail that only I will appreciate. Regulus might just pick up a brush, not a number six synthetic round filament brush with a seamless nickel-plated ferrule designed for fine detail work. But I know the difference. I know it all.

Send help. Send coffee. Send a memo telling my brain to chill out on the unnecessary but fascinating facts. I'm in a research spiral.voi

[warydoom]

Hi! It's out, but for some reason your blog looks nonexistent to me. :( Hope you like it!

I saw your request for drabbles and had a suggestion: Dick stuck on caretaker duty for Jason, who just had his wisdom teeth out? (I'm a horrible gremlin who believes that when Jason was resurrected in the Pit, it removed all scars including the autopsy scar and- oddly enough- his bellybutton. It also leads me to think his wisdom teeth would have grown back. Which would mean the family having to worry about secrets Jay/ Red Hood might spill while medicated. Instead? I vote that when he comes out of anaesthesia he attempts to confess to Dick that he, Jason, is Batman. Don't tell the Old Man.🤣)

Hi!

Thank you so much for the idea! It actually inspired me to write a whole fic, full of laughter, sibling joy, and Jason's relevations.

It should be done by tommorrow, which is when I'll post it!

[warydoom]

Presenting: The Gritty Wisdom of Jason Todd (Also known as: Jason Todd's Post-Wisdom Teeth Anesthetic Revelations)

Here’s a little taste of the glorious absurdity contained within, specifically when the Batfamily arrives to witness Jason's drugged declarations:

Jason slowly turned his drugged gaze to Damian. "Oh, bless your little heart, Dami. No. No. S’not him. I know he says he is, but it’s just… for show. He’s my PR rep. My emotional support grimace. He doesn't even like Tuesdays. You think Batman doesn’t like Tuesdays?"

Tim, having walked in a few seconds earlier, took one look at Jason and broke down laughing immediately. "He hates Tuesdays! Bruce HATES Tuesdays!" he gasped out. "Oh my god. I'm recording this. Every single second."

"And glitter," Steph added, bouncing in behind Tim, already pulling out her phone. "The Bat-Glare totally fails on glitter!"

"And broccoli," Cass signed quickly from the doorway, her lips twitching, joining them to crowd the small room.

Seriously, go read it! Prepare yourself for a masterclass in highly-medicated, completely deluded Jason Todd, who will single-handedly redefine 'Batman' through a lens of cosmic incompleteness, gritty toast, and surprisingly strong opinions on parking regulations. If chaotic Batfamily antics and utterly absurd hilarity are your jam, then you are in for a treat!

Link to the fic: Here

[warydoom]

I'd love to be mutuals!

i'm still learning about tumblr... do people.. look for mutuals on here? ive been writing for my entire life but im trying to get back into it in my old age (literally 25)

i'd love to make writing mutuals and like/support each others works whenever we have the time or just support each other in the writing journey !! reblog or follow or like or whatever & we can be mutuals !!

[warydoom]

I saw your request for drabbles and had a suggestion: Dick stuck on caretaker duty for Jason, who just had his wisdom teeth out? (I'm a horrible gremlin who believes that when Jason was resurrected in the Pit, it removed all scars including the autopsy scar and- oddly enough- his bellybutton. It also leads me to think his wisdom teeth would have grown back. Which would mean the family having to worry about secrets Jay/ Red Hood might spill while medicated. Instead? I vote that when he comes out of anaesthesia he attempts to confess to Dick that he, Jason, is Batman. Don't tell the Old Man.🤣)

Hi!

Thank you so much for the idea! It actually inspired me to write a whole fic, full of laughter, sibling joy, and Jason's relevations.

It should be done by tommorrow, which is when I'll post it!

[warydoom]

Why does fanart always make me cry?

Starting on a new manhwa 👀 ~1st fanart

[warydoom]

This. This most definitely happened.

He passed out like 10 minutes after this

[warydoom]

Beautiful art

I drew a postcard with Cale in the zine. We were recently allowed to show it. I put all my love into it!!

[warydoom]

Hi! I have some of the same interests! I'd love to chat, and I am online a lot, so I'll probably respond quickly!

I've had Tumblr for a longggg time now and I've never really gotten around to making any other marauders friends but I fear I need some :(

Let me just rapid fire my interests really quick:

Marauders:

Remus and Marlene kinnie :>

#1 Marylene shipper

Wolfstar is embedded in my very atoms

General:

HOZIER !!!!

Fleetwood Mac

SZA

Percy Jackson

Crafting (not very good at it but it's the effort that counts)

Acadamia based novels (dps, a little life, if we were villains, secret history)

Letterboxd warrior (top 4: I Saw the TV Glow, The Amazing Spiderman 2, Whiplash, Oppenheimer)

Cats > dogs

Minor (not an interest, but I feel like it's important to add?)

ANYWAY, if u like any of these too hmu, I would love to be moots or just to chat <3

[warydoom]

since you guys liked the skittles.. the girls incoming soon ?? probably

i’m looking at this more and james kind of looks like a lesbian?? IM CRYING

aLSO I DONT KNOW WHY SIRIUS LOOKS SO PALE PLEASE I COLOURPICKED REG AND HE DOESNT LOOK AS PALE

[warydoom]

Gorgeous

[warydoom]

This is so. Accurate. I love them.

Hi! I'd like to request a ficlet of Rosekiller flirting, but, instead of normal flirting, they're comparing each other with obscure books.

Annotations of a War

Characters: Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr

Setting: Sixth Year, Slytherin Common Room, 1:37 A.M.

Mood: Flirtation disguised as literary warfare

Warnings: Sharp tongues, ego clashes, books as weapons of seduction

---

The Slytherin common room smelled like old parchment and smoke. Most of the students had retreated to bed, and silence reigned like a jealous queen. Only the fireplace dared make noise, its green flames flickering ominously against the stone walls. On one of the leather armchairs lounged Evan Rosier, sprawled sideways like a painting of lazy aristocracy. His shoes were off. His tie hung loose. And in his hand, an obscure book: Nihil et Aeternum: An Inquiry into Magical Futility.

Barty Crouch Jr. sat on the floor like some cursed academic monk, back against the foot of the armchair, legs stretched out, pages fluttering in the heavy copy of The Blood Ink Theorem. He hadn’t spoken in over an hour. Neither had Evan. Not because they didn’t have things to say, but because they were both waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

It came, as it always did, with a sigh.

Evan yawned. Loudly. “You read like you’re trying to convince a corpse to fall in love with you.”

Barty didn’t look up. “You talk like you’re waiting for someone to be impressed by your ability to pronounce Latin with flair and absolutely no comprehension.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the boy who annotated The Martyrdom of Mind with, and I quote, ‘finally someone understands me.’”

Barty snapped his book shut and twisted to glare at him. “At least I don’t use The Veil is a Metaphor as a personality.”

“You’re upset because I understand it,” Evan drawled. “You just liked the bit where the protagonist tried to drown his therapist in a Pensieve.”

“I liked it because it was an accurate depiction of your emotional intelligence.”

Evan’s grin was all teeth. “Admit it, Crouch. You get off on thinking you’re the smartest person in the room.”

“And you get off on being the most tragic,” Barty shot back, standing up with slow, deliberate movement. “You’re like Vesper’s Final Elegy—style over coherence, an aesthetic of suffering. And just like the book, I keep hoping I’ll find something beneath the posturing, and all I get is another empty metaphor.”

Evan stood to meet him, expression flickering between mock offense and genuine interest. “You think I’m an elegy? Darling, that’s almost poetic. Would you like to read between my lines?”

Barty stepped into his space, close enough that their noses nearly brushed. “I do read between your lines, Evan. Every sneer. Every quote you think makes you look clever. You’re desperate to be understood, but too much of a coward to admit it.”

“Oh?” Evan’s voice was a purr, sharp at the edges. “And what does that make you? A walking contradiction? Daddy’s perfect little political puppet who spends his nights translating banned Romanian blood rituals for fun?”

“At least I don’t pretend apathy while screaming for attention in footnotes.”

“I am mysterious,” Evan hissed, smiling.

“You’re a walking prologue that thinks it’s a climax.”

Evan laughed. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“And you’re so fucking transparent.”

They stood there, the heat between them more volatile than the fire behind. There was no softness here—just barbs and brutal honesty masquerading as foreplay.

Evan’s voice dipped low. “You want to break me open like a book, don’t you?”

Barty smirked. “Only so I can highlight the parts that lie.”

For a moment, it looked like they might kill each other. Or kiss. Or both.

Instead, Evan reached over and snatched the book from Barty’s hand. Flipped it open. Scanned a page.

“You annotated this chapter with ‘agony should be efficient.’ You’re insufferable.”

Barty leaned in again, this time whispering, “You underlined an entire paragraph in On Death’s Doorstep just to write ‘me’ in the margins.”

Evan shrugged. “I have flair.”

“You have trauma.”

“You’re aroused.”

A dangerous pause.

Barty’s voice was quiet. “What if I am?”

Evan didn’t answer. He just handed the book back, his fingers brushing Barty’s with electric intent. Their eyes locked, unblinking. Challenge hung heavy between them like fog.

“I like books that bite back,” Evan said.

Barty’s smirk returned, lazy and lethal. “Then you’ll love me.”

Evan stepped back, deliberately slow. “I think I already do.”

They didn’t kiss. That would’ve been too easy. Too cliché. Instead, they returned to their books—spines cracked, pages dog-eared, tension mounting.

Their war would be long.

And beautifully written.

[warydoom]

Dust on Piano Keys, Ashes in my Heart

For @bxnesandthings. Thank you for your prompt!

The Floo died with a sigh, leaving Barty standing, stiff and cold, in the heart of his mother’s untouched parlor. Moody's coat fell to the floor, a heap of heavy canvas. He didn't bother pick it up. As he moved forward, silently, carefully, he thought. He reminisced on his last happy days. Before he went to Hogwarts. Where Mother would sit and play the piano, and Father and Barty danced together to the music. But that was Before. Father, in his obsessive, punishing grief, had wiped the rest of the house clean of all traces of Mother. But not this room. Not even he could bear to destroy it. Here, the air still carried a faint scent of lavender perfume, a ghost only Barty could sense. No lights. Just the moon, a precise, silver blade, cutting across the dusty black wood of Mother's piano.

He sat, the familiar velvet worn thin. His fingers, still clenching from hours in the stiff, cursed body, settled on the keys. A slow, tentative melody began to rise, Debussy’s "Clair de Lune." Evan had liked this one. Barty had played it for him, in the snatched quiet of Evan's house, Evan humming along, warm against him.

Beside his elbow, under a simple glass dome, sat a withered rose. Every fragile, brittle petal remained, a precise, dead brown. Evan had charmed it with a preservation charm, years ago. It had been a vibrant red then. "So it doesn't crumble," he’d said, tossing it to Barty. Casual. Like it didn't matter at all. Barty had kept it. Through the years of fighting, through the slow slide into darkness, it had been his one thread. Sometimes, in the early days of whispers and unconfirmed reports, seeing that the rose held its perfect, still form, that fiery red, was the only way Barty truly knew Evan was still out there, somewhere, breathing. A silent beacon.

He continued playing, his breath catching. He remembered the tremor. The single, nearly imperceptible shift in its rigid form, years ago. A micro-change in texture. So subtle, most wouldn’t have seen it. But he had. Evan was gone. The charm, after all that time, finally beginning its slow, unresisted release.

The music faltered, the melody dissolving into quiet discords. Below the sound, inside his head, the hourglass pounded, a brutal, unforgiving rhythm. Every stolen second here, in this painful, perfect stillness, was a grain of sand gone. Tick. Barty was Moody. Tock. He was losing.

[warydoom]

🎹🥀🌙⏳ (for prompt request)

Thank you for your prompt! The next post out will be the fic I wrote for it.

[warydoom]

This Is Why You Should Never Celebrate Early

@queenhunter102 - this is for you! Thank you for the prompt!

It was 2 am, on a hot summer day, and Spider-Man had just finished up for the night.

This night had been... weird. Everything was calm. Unnaturally calm. But his spider-sense wasn't tingling, hadn't tingled all night, so he forced his shoulders to un-hunch, and swung his webs to the roof of a skyscraper, heading home. He swung once, twice, launching himself into the familiar rhythm of the city.

‘Okay, I’m calling it,’ he murmured to the wind rushing past his mask. ‘Quietest night of the year. Official. No alien invasions, no genetically-modified lizards in the sewers, not even a purse-snatching.’ He did a fancy flip over a water tower, just because he could. ‘I could get used to this. Maybe I’ll get home, order a pizza. The works. Pepperoni and mushroom. I can live a little.’

This feeling of normal, boring, beautiful peace was so novel that on his twenty-fifth swing, nearly home, he couldn't contain himself. The cheer burst out of him in a giant "WHOOP!"

As he swung one last time, preparing to hit the familiar brick of his rooftop, the air in front of him screamed. It didn't just open; it was torn apart, a violent gash of ozone blue and impossible geometry, more impossible than Math class, ripping through the fabric of the night sky.

The portal materialized with a sound like grinding metal and tearing canvas, right in his path.

He had time to think "So much for pepperoni and mushroom" before his trajectory carried him through it, and he landed on a gargoyle. in the rain, the stone slick and cold beneath his feet.

Spider-Man’s whole body went still.

The expressive white lenses of his mask, usually wide with surprise or narrowed in focus, did something new. They slowly, deliberately, closed. Held for a full second. Then, just as slowly, opened again. A full system reboot in a single, frog-like blink.

His mind, unlike his body, was a frantic, chaotic scramble.

Okay. First assessment. Big, scary, dressed in black. Check. Pointy ears. Weird, but okay. Standing menacingly on a rooftop in the rain? BIG check. This guy screams ‘final boss of a DLC I never bought.’ He looks like he eats nails for breakfast and gargles with gravel.

The figure didn’t move. Just stared.

The lenses did it again. Sclooooow blink.

But wait. Hold on. The chin. That’s a billionaire’s chin. I’ve seen enough of them. And he’s got that intense, ‘I’m carrying the weight of the world and am deeply disappointed in you’ vibe. It’s… familiar. Is this another one? Am I just collecting emotionally constipated, armored father figures now? Is there a punch card? Do I get a free sub after my fifth one?

A flicker of lightning illuminated the bat symbol on the man's chest. It was stark. Intentional.

The slowest, most profound frog blink yet. The lenses seemed to sigh as they closed and reopened.

Oh. Oh my god. The tech. The scowl. The bottomless budget for themed accessories. The dramatic flair. He’s not a villain. He's not a new dad. Well, probably not. He’s… he’s Goth Tony Stark. That’s it. Goth Stark. Instead of Shakira, he listens to The Cure while building his suit. His AI is probably named Edgar or Allan or maybe even Alfred. Instead of offering me a drink, he'd probably offer me a vague, existential dread. It all makes sense now.

Spider-Man finally relaxed, a small chuckle escaping him. He raised a hand in a hesitant wave.

[warydoom]

thank you. *disappears under blanket, to cry over canon, never to be seen again*

Welcome to the Void They say if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

Well, I did. And it turns out the abyss is surprisingly cozy, has excellent wifi, and is absolutely wallpapered with AO3 tabs. Welcome to my blog!

This is my little corner of the internet for all things fan-made and brainrot-inducing. Expect a chaotic mix of fic snippets, incoherent screaming about character arcs at 3 AM, reblogs of god-tier fanart, and meta that is three parts literary analysis and seven parts pure, unfiltered obsession.

If you've found your way here, let's get acquainted.

About the Proprietor of This Particular Void

Alias: Void

Pronouns: She/her

Current Status: A feral creature fueled by iced coffee and the emotional devastation of my favorite fictional characters. Probably procrastinating on something important by being here.

My Writer's DNA // A.K.A. My Favorite Tropes This is the kind of stuff you can expect me to write and reblog with reckless abandon. If you send me a prompt, odds are it'll get infused with one of these:

Found Family: My absolute beloved. Give me a mismatched crew of traumatized weirdos, emotionally constipated soldiers, or reluctant heroes who bicker endlessly but would burn down the world for each other. The more dysfunctional the bonds and the more they refuse to admit they care, the better.

Hurt/Comfort & Whump: The absolute cornerstone of this establishment. This is the whump-to-hurt/comfort pipeline, and the pipes are clean and the water pressure is phenomenal. Let's put our blorbos through the emotional and physical wringer. Break a bone, catch a nasty non-magical flu, get captured, have a full-blown panic attack about it later. Why? So another character can find them, patch them up, and deliver the quiet, tender care they both desperately need. This is the good stuff.

Angst With a Purpose: I'm not here for pointless misery. I'm here for the good, artisanal angst. The pining, the yearning, the miscommunication that actually makes sense, the painful self-realizations, the "I'm not good enough for you" speeches that get proven wrong. But it has to lead somewhere—usually to one of the tropes mentioned above.

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers: The delicious, slow-burn knife-to-throat-to-kissing pipeline. I want the tension, the begrudging respect, the moment one of them realizes "oh no, they're hot AND competent," and the eventual chaotic collapse into feelings.

Canon Divergence / Fix-It Fic: That one canon event that broke me? No it didn't. In this house, we have ✨creative differences✨ with canon. I am the benevolent and sometimes wrathful god of my own AUs, and I am here to fix what was so cruelly broken.

There Was Only One Bed: The classic. The legend. It will never not be funny or fraught with delicious tension. Bonus points if one of them is an absolute blanket hog.

Coffee Shop & Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlour AUs: (Peak comfort. Not much else to say)

The "Everybody Lives" Mandate (No Major Character Death)

Let me be crystal clear: I am not here to hurt you (or me) permanently.

Canon can kill off whoever it wants; in this house, we write fix-its and everyone gets therapy. I will whump my blorbos until the heat death of the universe, but at the end of the day, they are all getting tucked into bed, possibly with a cup of tea and a heated blanket. I'm allergic to tragic endings and I do not write major character death.

If you're looking for that, you've stumbled into the wrong corner of the abyss. This is a recovery ward, not a morgue.

The Fandoms That Have Claimed My Soul

If you're into any of these, we're probably going to get along just fine.

Anime & Manga

Jujutsu Kaisen: My brainrot has its own Infinite Void. Come scream about Gojo, Geto, and the disaster that is Yuji Itadori with me.

My Hero Academia: Either Class 1-A is causing chaos that requires a group text, or Shota Aizawa needs a 72-hour nap. There is no in-between.

Haikyuu!!: My emotional support volleyball boys. Here for the team dynamics, the rivalries, and the pure, concentrated friendship.

Attack on Titan: Come for the giant man-eating monsters, stay for the crushing generational trauma and political philosophy. It's a fun time!

One Piece: I have sold my soul to a rubber pirate and his found family of weirdos, and I have zero regrets. The One Piece IS REAL!

Avatar: The Last Airbender: The OG masterpiece. Bending, found family, and the greatest redemption arc of all time. (Politely, this is a No Korra Zone.)

Comics // Where It All Started

DC & Marvel: My interests are basically the Bat-Family's collective therapy bill, the MCU's aggressive "we are a family" agenda, and the Spider-Verse's beautiful, angsty identity crises.

Film, Books & Ineffable Husbands

Star Wars: Give me Jedi having emotional breakdowns, clones deserving a retirement plan, and morally grey people making bad decisions in space.

Our Flag Means Death & Good Omens: The corner of the blog where soft pirates and ineffable demons have permanently rearranged my brain chemistry.

Lord of the Rings: I believe in the supremacy of Second Breakfast and the unwavering loyalty of Samwise Gamgee.

Harry Potter / Wizarding World: The Marauders Era is my Roman Empire. I like the kids too, but Marauders is my Sandbox Therapy. Coincidentally, also partial to any AU where they all just get therapy instead of becoming tragic heroes.

Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The gods are parents and the kids are paying for it. In a fun, adventure-road-trip kind of way!

The Hunger Games: I am here for the dystopian commentary and rebellion, but I want to be very clear: WE ARE GIVING THEM HAPPY ENDINGS IN THIS HOUSE. I am the benevolent god of this blog; Peeta gets to bake his bread in peace.

Sherlock (BBC): For the high-functioning sociopaths and the bloggers who love them. The mind palace is *REAL*.

Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire: Ah yes, the one with the dragons, the direwolves, and the frankly irresponsible amount of character culling. I am here for the political backstabbing, the world-building, and to apply my "Everybody Lives" mandate with the force of a tactical nuke. The Starks deserved a goddamn family reunion, and in this void, they're going to get one.

Games & The Grimdark Future

Resident Evil: Why is everyone so ridiculously hot while fighting eldritch bioweapons? It's a genuine, scientific question.

Call of Duty: Task Force 141 lives in my head rent-free, and I'm pretty sure my personality is now 15% Ghost's stoicism and 85% Soap's terrible jokes.

Warhammer 40,000: FOR THE EMPEROR! Come for the dudes in giant power armor, stay for the psychic shenanigans, the glorious legions, and the primal joy of a good WAAAGH!

Navigating The Abyss // Tags & Rules

Tagging: I do my best to tag for major triggers and spoilers! General chat is usually #the void talks, fics are tagged by the main ship/fandom they are in, and random stuff Probably doesn't need a tag? (I'm new here, this may be subject to changes)

DNI: The usual applies—if you're a bigot (racist, homophobic, transphobic, etc.), a TERF, or just here to start discourse fires, please see yourself out. The void does not want you. This is a pro-fiction space for fun and brainrot.

So, pull up a chair. The abyss is vast and full of stories. My ask box is always open for prompts, questions, or just screaming into the void together.

Let's see what gazes back.

#intro post #about me #pinned post #welcome to my blog #the void gazed back #fanfiction #fic writer #full fandom list in post #send me an ask #dni in post #jujutsu kaisen #mha #haikyuu #aot #one piece #atla #dc comics #marvel #star wars #ofmd #good omens #lotr #hp #pjo #the hunger games #sherlock #resident evil #call of duty #warhammer 40k

[warydoom]

Ok, but look at my fandoms. Look at how sad they all are. Can you really blame me?

Welcome to the Void They say if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

Well, I did. And it turns out the abyss is surprisingly cozy, has excellent wifi, and is absolutely wallpapered with AO3 tabs. Welcome to my blog!

This is my little corner of the internet for all things fan-made and brainrot-inducing. Expect a chaotic mix of fic snippets, incoherent screaming about character arcs at 3 AM, reblogs of god-tier fanart, and meta that is three parts literary analysis and seven parts pure, unfiltered obsession.

If you've found your way here, let's get acquainted.

About the Proprietor of This Particular Void

Alias: Void

Pronouns: She/her

Current Status: A feral creature fueled by iced coffee and the emotional devastation of my favorite fictional characters. Probably procrastinating on something important by being here.

My Writer's DNA // A.K.A. My Favorite Tropes This is the kind of stuff you can expect me to write and reblog with reckless abandon. If you send me a prompt, odds are it'll get infused with one of these:

Found Family: My absolute beloved. Give me a mismatched crew of traumatized weirdos, emotionally constipated soldiers, or reluctant heroes who bicker endlessly but would burn down the world for each other. The more dysfunctional the bonds and the more they refuse to admit they care, the better.

Hurt/Comfort & Whump: The absolute cornerstone of this establishment. This is the whump-to-hurt/comfort pipeline, and the pipes are clean and the water pressure is phenomenal. Let's put our blorbos through the emotional and physical wringer. Break a bone, catch a nasty non-magical flu, get captured, have a full-blown panic attack about it later. Why? So another character can find them, patch them up, and deliver the quiet, tender care they both desperately need. This is the good stuff.

Angst With a Purpose: I'm not here for pointless misery. I'm here for the good, artisanal angst. The pining, the yearning, the miscommunication that actually makes sense, the painful self-realizations, the "I'm not good enough for you" speeches that get proven wrong. But it has to lead somewhere—usually to one of the tropes mentioned above.

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers: The delicious, slow-burn knife-to-throat-to-kissing pipeline. I want the tension, the begrudging respect, the moment one of them realizes "oh no, they're hot AND competent," and the eventual chaotic collapse into feelings.

Canon Divergence / Fix-It Fic: That one canon event that broke me? No it didn't. In this house, we have ✨creative differences✨ with canon. I am the benevolent and sometimes wrathful god of my own AUs, and I am here to fix what was so cruelly broken.

There Was Only One Bed: The classic. The legend. It will never not be funny or fraught with delicious tension. Bonus points if one of them is an absolute blanket hog.

Coffee Shop & Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlour AUs: (Peak comfort. Not much else to say)

The "Everybody Lives" Mandate (No Major Character Death)

Let me be crystal clear: I am not here to hurt you (or me) permanently.

Canon can kill off whoever it wants; in this house, we write fix-its and everyone gets therapy. I will whump my blorbos until the heat death of the universe, but at the end of the day, they are all getting tucked into bed, possibly with a cup of tea and a heated blanket. I'm allergic to tragic endings and I do not write major character death.

If you're looking for that, you've stumbled into the wrong corner of the abyss. This is a recovery ward, not a morgue.

The Fandoms That Have Claimed My Soul

If you're into any of these, we're probably going to get along just fine.

Anime & Manga

Jujutsu Kaisen: My brainrot has its own Infinite Void. Come scream about Gojo, Geto, and the disaster that is Yuji Itadori with me.

My Hero Academia: Either Class 1-A is causing chaos that requires a group text, or Shota Aizawa needs a 72-hour nap. There is no in-between.

Haikyuu!!: My emotional support volleyball boys. Here for the team dynamics, the rivalries, and the pure, concentrated friendship.

Attack on Titan: Come for the giant man-eating monsters, stay for the crushing generational trauma and political philosophy. It's a fun time!

One Piece: I have sold my soul to a rubber pirate and his found family of weirdos, and I have zero regrets. The One Piece IS REAL!

Avatar: The Last Airbender: The OG masterpiece. Bending, found family, and the greatest redemption arc of all time. (Politely, this is a No Korra Zone.)

Comics // Where It All Started

DC & Marvel: My interests are basically the Bat-Family's collective therapy bill, the MCU's aggressive "we are a family" agenda, and the Spider-Verse's beautiful, angsty identity crises.

Film, Books & Ineffable Husbands

Star Wars: Give me Jedi having emotional breakdowns, clones deserving a retirement plan, and morally grey people making bad decisions in space.

Our Flag Means Death & Good Omens: The corner of the blog where soft pirates and ineffable demons have permanently rearranged my brain chemistry.

Lord of the Rings: I believe in the supremacy of Second Breakfast and the unwavering loyalty of Samwise Gamgee.

Harry Potter / Wizarding World: The Marauders Era is my Roman Empire. I like the kids too, but Marauders is my Sandbox Therapy. Coincidentally, also partial to any AU where they all just get therapy instead of becoming tragic heroes.

Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The gods are parents and the kids are paying for it. In a fun, adventure-road-trip kind of way!

The Hunger Games: I am here for the dystopian commentary and rebellion, but I want to be very clear: WE ARE GIVING THEM HAPPY ENDINGS IN THIS HOUSE. I am the benevolent god of this blog; Peeta gets to bake his bread in peace.

Sherlock (BBC): For the high-functioning sociopaths and the bloggers who love them. The mind palace is *REAL*.

Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire: Ah yes, the one with the dragons, the direwolves, and the frankly irresponsible amount of character culling. I am here for the political backstabbing, the world-building, and to apply my "Everybody Lives" mandate with the force of a tactical nuke. The Starks deserved a goddamn family reunion, and in this void, they're going to get one.

Games & The Grimdark Future

Resident Evil: Why is everyone so ridiculously hot while fighting eldritch bioweapons? It's a genuine, scientific question.

Call of Duty: Task Force 141 lives in my head rent-free, and I'm pretty sure my personality is now 15% Ghost's stoicism and 85% Soap's terrible jokes.

Warhammer 40,000: FOR THE EMPEROR! Come for the dudes in giant power armor, stay for the psychic shenanigans, the glorious legions, and the primal joy of a good WAAAGH!

Navigating The Abyss // Tags & Rules

Tagging: I do my best to tag for major triggers and spoilers! General chat is usually #the void talks, fics are tagged by the main ship/fandom they are in, and random stuff Probably doesn't need a tag? (I'm new here, this may be subject to changes)

DNI: The usual applies—if you're a bigot (racist, homophobic, transphobic, etc.), a TERF, or just here to start discourse fires, please see yourself out. The void does not want you. This is a pro-fiction space for fun and brainrot.

So, pull up a chair. The abyss is vast and full of stories. My ask box is always open for prompts, questions, or just screaming into the void together.

Let's see what gazes back.

#intro post #about me #pinned post #welcome to my blog #the void gazed back #fanfiction #fic writer #full fandom list in post #send me an ask #dni in post #jujutsu kaisen #mha #haikyuu #aot #one piece #atla #dc comics #marvel #star wars #ofmd #good omens #lotr #hp #pjo #the hunger games #sherlock #resident evil #call of duty #warhammer 40k