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400 fanworks \o/ (icon is highly relevant)
***
Right, I've just woken up from a 3h nap that I don't regret. It does mean that my higher brain activity is not quite engaged so instead an actual post, let's celebrate the fact that I now have 400 fanworks up on AO3 with a 'fic meme'. And by that I mean...
Option 1. Pick a random number between 1 and 400 (1 being the latest fanwork posted, 400 being the first) and ask me any question about this fanwork.
Option 2. Pick a specifc fanwork of mine that you're curious about and ask any question about it.
Option 3. Give me a made-up fic title and I'll give you a made-up summary and tags that would go with it
Option 4. Comment with a fic premise that 100% sounds like the kind of thing I would write, and I'll tell you how embarrassingly accurate it is.
***
Right, I've just woken up from a 3h nap that I don't regret. It does mean that my higher brain activity is not quite engaged so instead an actual post, let's celebrate the fact that I now have 400 fanworks up on AO3 with a 'fic meme'. And by that I mean...
Option 1. Pick a random number between 1 and 400 (1 being the latest fanwork posted, 400 being the first) and ask me any question about this fanwork.
Option 2. Pick a specifc fanwork of mine that you're curious about and ask any question about it.
Option 3. Give me a made-up fic title and I'll give you a made-up summary and tags that would go with it
Option 4. Comment with a fic premise that 100% sounds like the kind of thing I would write, and I'll tell you how embarrassingly accurate it is.
***
no subject
The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter
no subject
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Gerard & Jaskier or Gerard/Jaskier depending on your slash-goggles
Rating: M
Tags: Canon typical violence, Alternate universe - role reversal, Angst, Strangers to friends
Summary: If Witchers were cats, Jaskier would be the runt of the litter. No one expects him to survive, not the training, not the trials, not even the actual work. Somehow that doesn't change even when he survives, he survives, he keeps on surviving day after day after year, knocked down and getting back up, teeth bloodied and bared in a grin that's nothing so much as a warning sign. People are drawn to him as fast as they flee, like moths circling a burning lamp, no one sticking for longer than a hunt, a night, a too bright flash of his eyes by the firelight. Except Gerard, a scholar with a sword, and a bag full of empty books waiting for a story. Jaskier's story, he says, and doesn't take a no for an answer. Their story. Maybe.