I Made This A Long Time Ago And Was Very Nervous About Posting It To Tumblr. I Can’t Really Think Of

You will never be able to experience everything. So, please, do poetical justice to your soul and simply experience yourself.

— Albert Camus, Notebooks, 1935-1951

A mood board

like you're telling me jayce's blanket went with viktor to his commune, was incorporated into his song and his machine herald form, then to the COSMIC VERSION OF THAT MACHINE HERALD FORM. you're fucking kidding me. he's literally never going to let go of that thing he's gonna be dragging it around until it's a single piece of thread

f*ck expensive dates

let's just roam around the streets at 2am while holding hands, secretly paint a graffiti under the subway, and have a deep conversation about the meaning of life

I'm thinking sad Jaskier thoughts.

It takes a while for Geralt to realize the music is gone. Oh Jaskier still sings- for their supper, for Ciri when she's sad, to entertain Kaer Morhen on late card playing nights. But the music- the music is gone. No more of the mindless humming as he walks, no more parsing over rhymes by the fire, no more harassing Geralt for his thoughts on such and such melody. Jaskier sings like a wind-up music box, only when requested, cranked for it, and snapping shut into silence like the sharp closing of a lid.

Yennefer snorts at his concern. "It took you this long to notice?"

Geralt grunts. She smiles, sharp and bitter. "You always were slow."

"How do I fix it?" Geralt snaps. He is not here to be mocked or play games.

"Can you fix it?" Yennefer asks. "I don't know."

Geralt doesn't know either. All he can do is try.

One of the mages had left a god's damned harpsichord in their tower room. It takes Geralt weeks- lugging the ornate monstrosity down from the mages tower, finding schematics in the library for the damn thing, undoing by sheer will the rot and moulding of a hundred years on the instrument. He spends his evenings waist deep in the guts of the instrument, swearing over chords and tuning and keys.

Jaskier's silence, now that he notices it, gapes like an open wound, bleeding wherever he goes. It stains memories of years past, of a cheerful smile and conversation given to him so freely, so easily, not a hint of subterfuge or awkwardness or fear. Now Jaskier only says good morrow if Geralt says it first, only speaks when spoken to, only smiles when Ciri is looking his way.

Geralt polishes the harpsichord until his fingers blister and his nose stings from the smell. He paints the elaborate carvings with pure gold leaf. He spends hours tightening strings trying to get the thing in tune. He worries over it like a child, because he doesn't know what else to do.

"What do you think?" He asks Eskel as they carry it carefully down to Jaskier's room.

"It's very nice." Eskel says diplomatically. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Appreciate it?" Geralt doesn't want appreciation. He wants that soft tone back in Jaskier's voice when he speaks to him. He wants Jaskier to speak to him, to turn to him free and easy with something to say.

"He'll like it," Eskel says, "Just-"

He turns, his soft eyes full of warning. "Just don't put all your hopes on an old harpsichord."

Lambert snorts, "Too little too late!" He laughs. And Lambert has always been hateful, more so since Aiden was lost, but the words feel true.

Jaskier smiles when he presents him with the harpsichord. He exclaims and laughs and claps his hands. He extolls its virtues, coos over its decorations, fusses over it with all the enthusiasm of a performing parrot. He pulls Ciri onto his lap and guides her hands on the keys, composes a little ditty on the fly for Yennefer, plays something sweet and sad that makes Lambert turn his face away. In all the merriment and gratitude and excitement, he looks Geralt in the eyes only once. Once, upon the first shock of the present. Once, with eyes wide and open, like a wound.

Geralt lingers as the others go off to bed, watching as Jaskier slowly fades as his audience wanes.

"Thank you, Geralt." he says. "It is truly a magnificent present. And far more than I deserve."

Do not thank me is what Geralt wants to say. Do not thank me, not when I have done this to you.

"I didn't do much," is what comes out of his mouth. "It was already there."

Jaskier does not look at him. "If this is an apology-" he says, "I do not need it. You were tired and upset. You spoke your mind. And nothing you said was- untrue. From a certain point of view. You do not need to absolve your guilt to me."

"Jaskier," Geralt says. "I'm sorry."

"And I forgive you." Jaskier says "I forgave you even the moment you after spoke. I don't think I would be myself if I could do otherwise."

It is done. The gift given, the apology accepted. And yet the silence still sits heavy in the air. It is not fixed. It is still broken. It is still out of tune and all of Geralt's twisting and tunings have not set the melody to rights.

"Why are you still like this?" He says. Jaskier stiffens. The words are wrong again, he's done it again, and he could scream with frustration, like a child who keeps swinging the sword and cutting himself on the dulled edge.

"Do you know the Countess de Stael bought me a Stradivarius once?" Jaskier said. "You don't know what that is. A fiddle, rarer than rubies. There were only twenty ever made. It sings like nothing else. She presented it to me on a bed of velvet, and told me she loved me. She told me to stay. And I would have."

Jaskier plinks a few idle notes. "She kicked me out a month later. Too mouthy. Too tacky. Too gauche. She had found someone better. She took back the Stradivarius and handed it off to her new minstrel."

"What I am saying, Geralt-" He says. "What I am asking- Is that you not do things you do not mean. That you not give me false hope. That you stop trying to make me love you, because I already do. I already do and it hurts. It hurts so much."

What happened when Secretive Plotter sent Kim Dokja to 1863rd turn.

Source:

https://href.li/?https://mobile.twitter.com/aruyajdkm/status/1362794562385715200

For you, I would

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Genre : happy-ish angst

Tw : none (?)

Pairing : Yoo Jonghyuk x Kim Dokja (interpretable)

Characters : Yoo Jonghyuk and Kim Dokja

Story : for you, my dear, ofcourse I would.

Info : the story is written from Yjh's prespective

In the intricate tapestry of life, we're constantly navigating through a myriad of emotions, some vibrant and vivid, others subtle and concealed deep within the recesses of our hearts. I've always prided myself on my ability to approach situations with a logical mindset, to maintain composure even amid chaos.

Yet, with you, Kim Dokja, it's as if the very fabric of my being shifts. Your presence stirs emotions that I never knew existed. Suddenly, the idea of sacrificing myself for your sake doesn't seem so distant or abstract.

When I think of you, it's as if everything that I’ve known about emotions for my entire life crumbles. Your presence fills me with a warmth that honestly, I never knew I craved. It’s as if every part, every fiber of my being is attuned to you and your well-being. Seeing you right now, in pain sends me shivers down my spine.

For you, my companion, I would sacrifice myself in a heartbeat. Not because I’m some noble hero, but because the love I have for you surpasses any logic or reason. It’s a love that’s as natural as breathing, as essential as the beating of my heart.

I wonder what is it exactly about you that ignites this fierce devotion inside of me? Was it the way your eyes would light up when you talked about your hopes and dreams? Or the warmth and gentleness you have shown for me all these years? You’ve proven again and again that you truly do accept me for who I am, flaws and all.

To me, the thought of losing you is unbearable. This will I have to sacrifice myself for your sake isn’t an act of heroism- it’s an act of survival. It’s a testament to the depth of my love for you, a love that knows no bounds and refuses to be confined by the limitations of this world we live in.

So yes, Kim Dokja, for you, I would sacrifice myself without hesitation. Because in a world filled with all this uncertainty and chaos, you are my constant, my anchor, my reason for being here. And as long as you are by my side, I will do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness and well-being, even if it means giving up everything I have.

Because you are my one and only companion.

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<- MASTERLIST

-> you can interpret the story as if they're lovers, or just friends, doesn't matter 🔥

Stay your pretty eyes on course

So, this is nagging my mind for a while, but which came first: Yoo Jonghyuk or Ways of Survival?

If Yoo Jonghyuk came first: That's mean Yoo Jonghyuk and other WOS characters are real people in the real world (which means Kim Dokja and Yoo Jonghyuk could have meet each other before WOS happened, but fate is a bitch and she keep them from meeting each other), and when Star Stream happened in the world, Han Sooyoung is documenting Yoo Jonghyuk's journey of regression and turn it into a book (that is Ways of Survival) for someone to read with the hope that that someone can help save the world. And for whatever reason, Kim Dokja (who's probably died and ascend to godhood) become Most Ancient Dream to keep the world going.

If Ways of Survival came first: Then Han Sooyoung is the reincarnation of a god and her novel become real because unconsciously she put her sealed god-power into her novel. Or some deities feel bored and decide "oh, how about we make that one fucked up trash novel which only has one reader to become real and watch the humans struggling like the ants they are?" Or Kim Dokja is the reincarnated god one and unconsciously and subsconciously use his god-power to make his favorite novel to become real (maybe he died when he's teenage. You know, when he threw himself from the school building. And because he died, he's back to become a god). Because why is it that Ways of Survival (of all novels in the world) become real anyway?

Sing Shong, please answer me, if you read this post. Or anyone? Because it kept bugging me.