Musings of a Crazy Fanboy

Thoughts, musings and other such things from the mind and desk of just another fanboy that loves the stars, the Witcher, Death Stranding, Higgs, Good Omens, mushrooms, and a bunch of other crazy shit. Twitter: @FallenLostBoy AO3: snipermoran

[destinytomoon-deactivated202006]

‘ small story of a girl talking with a hot lady in a bar then she talk about her old highschool big crush then the hot lady reveal it was her but now she is a lady and the girl just fall in love once again’

THIS COMIC BECOME POPULAR ON TWITTER IS UNREAL KJGDFNJKGN

[fanficmemes-deactivated20171018]

Fanfic Writer Ask Meme

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why? B:  What was the first fandom you read fic in?  Which was the first you wrote fic for? C:  How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]? D: What’s the most personal fanfic you’ve written? E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well? F: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]? G: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about? H: How would you describe your writing style? I: How many fandoms have you written in?  Do you have a favorite? J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it? K:  Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)? L:  Which of your fanfics was the most emotionally challenging to write? M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story? N: Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share? O: What are your thoughts on people writing fanfic of your fanfic? P:  Where did you find the most inspiration for your story < insert title >? Q: Do you like getting prompts from your readers? R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing? S: How do you feel about fan art inspired by your writing? T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand? U: Is there a pairing you would like to write, but haven’t tried yet. V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you? W: What is your favorite pairing to write?  Favorite pairing to read? X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading?  Are you a voracious reader?  Do you carefully pick and choose?  Something in between? Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?   Z: Is there a story you’ve written that doesn’t seem to get much love?

[showmeyourstarstigersniper]

Ooooh~ send me some of these and I'll answer them!

[futureauthor-mabye]

Friend: Have you done a full read through of your first draft?

Me:

[shrugsmagazine-deactivated20220]

goodnight all you sluts, whores, harlots, gamers, nerds, bitches, chads, virgins, piss drinkers, my chemical romance fans, shrimp, pixies, tax evaders, motherfuckers, and 17th century archers with impeccable aim

[allisonpregler]

*gets to the part i really started writing this fanfic for* me: *sternly* this better be good, me

[coolthingoftheday]

Solid bronze sickles of Luna and Solis. [x]

[the-golden-summer-rose-archive]

You: Ancient sickles

Me, an intellectual: medieval Sailor Moon moon sticks

[spacemancharisma]

haven’t seen this on tumblr yet, and tis the season

[msmarvel]

“Carol falls down all the time, but she always gets back up — we say that about Captain America as well, but Captain America gets back up because it’s the right thing to do. Carol gets back up because ‘Fuck you.’ ” — Kelly Sue DeConnick on Carol Danvers

[theamazingbard]

what’s out there

part six of the witcher!jask au (first) (previous) (next)

-

Spring slowly turns into summer. Geralt has not yet bumped into Jaskier yet, but he knows he will. He reaches for the Cat medallion he has borrowed and runs his thumb over it’s etchings. 

Strange, how something like this brings him comfort. Stranger still, it makes him miss the Cat Witcher’s presence even more.

With or without Jaskier, the Path awaits.

And so Geralt does what he’s made to do and takes contracts.

One in particular stands out,

A family was unfortunate enough to live close to a leshen. Nekkers, wolves, and crows surround the entire area. It’d be easier with two. (Soft. He’s grown soft.) The family explains that they don’t have enough money to pay him what his services are worth, but they already lost a son. They can’t afford to move, to lose these lands. They can’t lose another son. The child, their remaining boy, has floppy brown hair.

He takes the contract.

It’s not an easy fight, but he manages. There is a small matter of his ankle. Fool that he is, the leshen managed to trip him. He’ll be walking with a limp for a few days. No matter. There aren’t any towns close by. For once, the lack of a contract is a good thing.

Even if the current contract has proved less than fruitful.

The father thanks him profusely when he returns. “Please, I must… there must be something I can give to you.” Geralt refuses the money. Refuses all gifts. Except… His gaze shifts to the corner where he can see something nearly hidden away in the shadows. “That belonged to my eldest,” The farmer replies. A sad sort of fondness in his voice. “But it’s meant to be held. Meant to be played.”

Geralt is then handed a lute.

Keep reading

[theamazingbard]

what’s out there

“part five of the witcher!jask verse (first) (previous) (next)

-

“You killed your father,” Geralt says. A statement more than an accusation.

The Cat Witcher laughs. A darker sound than he’s used to. Ever since bringing up Lettenhove, Jaskier’s entire demeanor has changed. “Was I supposed to wait for someone else to kill the bastard?”

Geralt has no room to judge. There is plenty of blood on his own hands. Mistakes he can never wash away. Hearing that Jaskier, a man who has literally stopped to smell the flowers, is much the same is jarring. “We’re not supposed to get involved. Leave everything in the past.”

“How did you become a Witcher, Geralt? Were you a Child of Surprise? Did your father lose a bet? Or did your mother sell you? Perhaps you were abandoned altogether?” Jaskier’s golden eyes blaze with anger. “You Wolves think yourselves so detached from reality. From humanity. But I remember. I remember what it’s like to be human.”

It’s been years since Geralt has been human. Decades. He has learned not to dwell on his life before becoming a Witcher. It’s something that Vesemir stressed all throughout their training. He’s seen what holding a grudge can do. How Lambert continues to struggle with his fate.

He doesn’t know what to say.

“My father,” Jaskier spits the word out. “Gave me to the Witchers when I was 11. Nearly too old, wouldn’t you say? But I wasn’t obedient. Wouldn’t pay attention in classes. Disrespected him one too many times in front of his friends. So as soon as he heard my mother was pregnant, he gave me away.” Jaskier pulls a knife out. Twirls it in his hands.

Still, Geralt doesn’t know what to say. How to make it better.

“And you know what? I survived. No one thought I would. Not a one. Imagine that? Some scrawny noble child survived the trials. But I did. I made sure I’d survive. Suppose that makes me a petty little shit, but I did.”

Geralt says nothing. Even if he were skilled with words, he’s unsure that there’s anything he could say to make this better.

Keep reading

[theamazingbard]

what’s out there

part four of the witcher!jask verse (first) (previous) (next)

Spring comes after a long, dull winter.

Geralt leaves Kaer Morhen ready to continue on the Path as he had been before.

Alone.

He does not plan to run into the Cat Witcher Jaskier again. Doesn’t head towards the unofficial border between Cat and Wolf territories. Neither does he return to one of their old haunts.

He finds Jaskier all the same.

Geralt finds a tavern not too far from Creyden. Music is playing loudly. Obnoxiously. There’s a bard in the middle, prancing about like a fool. The crowd seems to enjoy it enough to not notice that a Witcher has entered the premises. That’s when he catches the familiar scent. There, hidden away, in the corner of a tavern sits Jaskier. His armor as bright as ever.

It’s unclear whether or not the Cat has noticed his appearance, or if he’s willfully ignoring him. Like the crowd, Jaskier is focused on the bard. Perhaps more focused than the others.

Jaskier’s mouthing the words along to the bawdy lyrics. His gaze, when Geralt follows it, lines up with the bard’s hands. Jaskier’s fingers are moving about in the air, following the movements the bard makes along the instrument’s strings almost identically. 

The Cat looks thinner, Geralt notes. Even under the bulk of his armor.

He’s reminded that Jaskier was not invited back to the School of the Cat this year. However he spent the winter this year, it wasn’t plentiful.

Geralt tries not to think about it.

The song ends, and finally, Jaskier’s gaze shifts to him. His expression morphs from one of concentration to delight. Eyes wide and golden.

“Geralt!”

Keep reading

[theamazingbard]

what’s out there

part three of the witcher!jask verse (first) (previous) (next)

As abruptly as they began traveling together, the Cat and Wolf Witchers part ways as they near the border of Redania.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, I’m sure,” Jaskier said as he walked backward down the path heading west. “But for now, I’ve business elsewhere. Do try not to have the best adventures without me! You’re shit at regaling the tales.” He waved, turned on his heel, and swaggered away.

Geralt rolls his eyes at the memory. What stories does he have to tell, really? Monsters are monsters. He kills them, then collects the coin. Nothing terribly exciting about that.

With winter nearing, he really only has time for one more contract. He thought that Jaskier would want to do finish the season together, as he hadn’t mentioned his plans for the coming months. However, he mentioned nothing of the sort, only speaking of his own conquests that are surely embellished.

It’s not his problem. Jaskier is a Witcher and capable of making his own decisions. They all know what it takes to be on the Path. He can find his own place to winter.

Geralt continues not to think about it as he crosses the country.

As he approaches Lettenhove, he notices that people seem more wary, more hostile than he’s used to. It doesn’t matter. He notices that there are contracts plastered to the signboard just at the border of Lettenhove.

These people are in desperate need of a Witcher, and yet have probably driven off anyone from his guild willing to help. Whatever prejudice they hold, it runs deeper than fear.

Keep reading

[theamazingbard]

Jaskier's Cat siblings?? Oh hohoho 🔍👀 I love witcher jaskier in all forms and I was super excited to read that drabble!!!!!!

vHm yes. While doin some quick research on School of the Cat, these Witchers are the only school to female Witchers! (And maybe, by extension, gender queer witchers? Hmmmm. [How inclusive of them lmfao]). I’m so happy that you liked the little drabble! Here’s another bit I had in mind:

what’s out there part two of the witcher!jask verse (first) (next)

In the middle of the night, Jaskier lurches awake. Geralt opens an eye. It’s never a good sign when there’s an uneasy Witcher.

Jaskier grabs one of his knives- always close by- and stands slowly. His gold eyes sweep the surrounding area. Though the Cat prefers sleeping in Inns, they have taken to sleeping outside recently. (Villages are often disquieted at the sight of one Witcher. Two? The horrors.)

Geralt reaches for his own swords, his hand hovering between the silver and the steel. He can’t smell, see, or hear anything that would indicate definitively tell him which one was best for the occasion. But he remains silent. Jaskier, deadly attune to seeing the unseen, remains poised for a fight.

Out of the shadows steps another Witcher.

A young Witcher.

A young woman Witcher.

Blonde hair falls over one eye, and there’s a knife in each hand. The armor, while flashy, is not at all as loud as Jaskier’s. From her neck hangs a Cat medallion.

Steel, then. Geralt stands next to Jaskier, sword in hand. He looks from one Cat to the other.

“Jaskier. What the fuck.” She demands. “You were supposed to kill the Wolf!”

“Little Eye. You always were the best tracker. I’m not at all surprised you found me first!” Jaskier does not sheath his own weapon. “You should know I kill whom I want, when I want. Even if the money was very, very good.”

Jaskier’s sister- Little Eye?- bares her teeth and grips the hilts of her knives tighter.

They stand like that for a long, tense moment. Geralt suddenly can’t help but wonder: would Jaskier choose his sibling, his sister, over him?

Finally, she sighs. “I should have know you wouldn’t, you tenderhearted fool,” There’s only the slightest bit of hesitation when she sheathes her knives. Jaskier lowers his as well. Geralt does not. “Fascinated with him from afar, now stuck to his side like shit on a shoe.”

At that, Geralt can’t help but raise a brow. He turns to look at Jaskier. Fascinated?

To which Jaskier shrugs easily. “He’s not so different from us, Essi, and you know that. You do.”

“I do,” Essi agrees. “But our siblings don’t care. A contract is a contract. Even if it’s another Witcher. They-” She sighs once more, shaking her head. “Jaskier, you shouldn’t come back to Dyn Marv this year.”

Geralt hears the skip of Jaskier’s slow beating heart, but his expression betrays nothing. As always, a smile graces his features. “I assume by this year, you mean never.”

Essi doesn’t reply. Her gaze lowers to the forest floor. Impressive to see how precise these Cat Witchers are. To cut so deep without the use of their knives or swords. But then, Geralt has known how dangerous words could be.

“Thought as much!” Jaskier says. “Perhaps good to have heard the message though. Can you imagine how awkward it might be if I wintered there this year?”

Geralt imagines blood would be spilled.

“Perhaps I can camp here tonight?” Essi offers. “We can share stories. For old time’s sake.”

“No.” Geralt says.

“Ah, he’s just saying that!” Jaskier brushes him off. “Of course we can swap stories. You should hear about this magnificent griffin I had to slay just a few months ago. Her feathers were incredible. I saved a few!”

The Witchers share a meal, and though the conversation between the Cats is amicable, it feels rather final. Realizing, perhaps for the first time, what Jaskier has sacrificed for him, he makes a point of telling his own stories. Not nearly as wordy, or embellished as theirs, but stories all the same.

When Essi gathers her things and walks down the road in the opposite direction, Jaskier watches her until she disappears. It’s a quiet thing.

Geralt doesn’t know what to say.

Unbidden, the image of the Cat alone during the winter comes to mind. It’s disturbing. Geralt hates that the thought causes distress. He owes him nothing. They are meant to walk the Path alone.

(Maybe-)

No. Geralt will not invite Jaskier to Kaer Morhen. Cats and Wolves do not get along. They aren’t even allowed in the keep.

He won’t.

“Time to get moving, eh, Wolf?” Jaskier says, turning around. Geralt is further disturbed that he is starting to understand the subtleties in the Cat’s expressions. Each smile so different. Few of them happy.

“Hm.”

They continue to travel side by side.

Alone, together.

-

more witcher!jask (among other witcher-y things) found here

-

toss a coin to a broke bitch?

[theamazingbard]

what’s out there

part one of the witcher!jask verse (next)

Geralt knows he’s being followed. Has known it for a while.

The person following him is a professional, clearly knows what they’re doing. Quiet steps, careful to avoid any twigs or loose rocks. Their scent is hidden well enough. When Geralt turns to look behind him (carefully, subtly,) there’s no one to be seen.

But there’s a distinct feeling that comes with being followed. Something that Geralt has become intimately familiar with over the years. The dance between predator and prey.

Geralt can’t help but wonder who would follow a Witcher into the woods. The off-beaten path isn’t safe for anyone.

Dwelling on who it is won’t do much good. Not when knows he has to prepare himself for an attack. Thinks he may be able to catch his opponent off guard if he doesn’t make it obvious that he knows he’s being followed. He can plan a bit. If he’s lucky, he may be even able to pick where he fights.

Night falls. He sets up camp in a clearing. Roach is tired.

Still no definitive sign of his pursuer.

Until he just… swaggers into Geralt’s camp.

A Witcher.

A young Witcher.

Keep reading

[theamazingbard]

geralt: don’t touch anything

jaskier: yes sir

geralt: don’t call me sir

jaskier: yes ma’am

[theamazingbard]

the sight of geralt naked is a pleasant one, to be sure, but jaskier sees it all the time. what he longs for, what he hungers for is a smile. a genuine thing. they’re as lovely as they are rare. when jaskier sees that grin, one that lights up his amber eyes, he feels as if he’s on another plane of existence. for geralt is never truly bare until he’s expressing his happiness freely. what a wonderfully vulnerable thing that is. and still he hungers for more

[theamazingbard]

as a demigod of misfortune, jaskier is unable to control his own powers.

usually when he’s with someone, he causes them nasty luck. terrible luck. sometimes, it’s not so bad. he’s had to be in valdo marx’s presence of course. watching him trip over nothing is always a great joy. but then there’s his friends. can never stick around them for too long. can’t bear causing them such pain.

but he meets a witcher. geralt. and he’s got loads of misfortune all on his own. it’s lovely. jaskier can’t really cause anything worse, can he? sure, he feels a bit bad about it, but it’s not his fault this time for sure!

and they travel together and it’s brilliant. jaskier feels human and not so much like a stray black cat. geralt is an amazing muse, and amazing friend. oh, the stories he can tell.

they talk, laugh, adventure. one night, amidst the stars and the fire and a lake, jaskier thinks they almost kiss. maybe? probably. surely. things can’t get better than this. (and hoo boy, they do not)

it starts slowly. a hole in geralt’s saddle bags. could’ve happened to anyone. a lost vial. these things happen. no rooms left at the inn. he’s a witcher, they’re turned away often enough.

but when geralt’s own blade breaks mid battle jaskier knows. he knows that his powers have started to affect the witcher as well.

he tries to control it, he does. but how does one use misfortune? how does one redirect it? he’s half human. no one is showing him the ropes.

unfortunate, isn’t it?

jaskier is sure geralt catches on.

and he does.

he does.

that’s why he explodes on the mountain top, isn’t it?

it is jaskier’s fault. all of it. the djinn, the child surprise. even a scar or two.

he can’t even explain, can’t apologize. there’s no real proof of it. (jaskier would hardly believe it himself, if not a visit from his Mother years back)

there is one thing he can do. as a demigod, he can grant blessings. jaskier hasn’t quite puzzled that one out, but this one is simple. so he leaves.

for the first time in a long time, jaskier is alone

all that power has no where to go, and it turns in on himself.

brilliant. just… fucking amazing turn of events.

the strings on his lute snap. the heel of his boot breaks. there’s already a bard in town.

no rooms at the inn.

jaskier can’t help but wonder what the point of it all is. why is he given this power, one with no use? one he has no control over? if he were the praying sort, he might ask for some sort of guidance. instead, he’s petty and hurt and angry and he is determined to figure out the trick to it all.

one day, he notices a man harassing a young lady. jaskier finds himself wishing that the man would just fucking choke and he does. he chokes on his own spit and has to walk away, leaving the girl free and clear.

and that’s all it is, isn’t it?

it’s a feeling. a sense of justice, he thinks. ruining people’s days a little.

but it takes time. it’s exhausting. exhilarating. exciting. a few other ‘e’ words, probably.

in an odd way, he gets to help people. he’s able to sing again. he’s able to talk to people. mingle.

fortune, either ill or good, knocks at his door one day. geralt, coming into the very same tavern he’s playing in. because he’s a fucking professional, he finishes his set without a hitch. (the woman who tried to heckle him had suddenly spilled her ale down her dress and had to disappear. shame, that.)

he goes to put his lute away. there’s still that pesky blessing, after all.

geralt, ever defiant of destiny and the will of gods, comes to him instead.

apologizes. explains in the least amount of words possible that he’s missed jaskier. despite all the shit shoveling, he was happy by jaskier’s side.

before jaskier can throw himself into geralt’s arms the way he’s always imagined, he has to be honest. so he tells him. he tells the witcher that he’s a demigod. that he hasn’t quite figured things out. what he’s supposed to do or how to do it. but- but! he’s getting closer to being adept at channeling this ability.

geralt listens.

and shrugs.

of all the- he never acts the way he should, does he?

but the witcher explains that he came to apologize and that he means it. jaskier didn’t deserve such treatment. and that if he would like, they can travel together again.

geralt’s fingers brush jaskier’s.

(he fucking knew it)

and he feels like the luckiest man on the continent.