doesntsing | open post

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continues. “They’re very nice.” All brocade and silk. “But you’ve probably noticed that people don’t really dress like that here. You’re about 400 years out of fashion.”

Midge shrugs. “I’m not saying that you look bad, but it’s very obvious that you’re an Otherworlder, and some people are very biased against Otherworlders.”

What started as a teasing joke has turned into actual advice. Blending in a bit more might help his burgeoning career.

She likes how he looks, and that definitely counts as a triumph. But his inner glee is short-lived - Jaskier wrinkles his nose when Midge says he's out of fashion. If this was home, he'd take out the dramatics again - he's always on top of the trends. Sometimes he even starts the trends! In this context, however...

"They work when I'm doing the bardic act," he tries to justify, but he knows it's a lost battle. A defeated sigh escapes his lips. "I hate this. I'm supposed to understand fashion!" He throws his hands in the air in frustration. "There's been so much to catch up on since we've arrived. I picked up new instruments and I've been studying the local music- have you heard all the different music genres they have here? It's absolutely insane!"

To be fair, he loves the variety of art that populates this world. It's refreshing, but also overwhelming. Another thing that is making him feel like a teenager again.

Jaskier gives Midge a new look over, this time less flirty and more admiring the fabrics. "You do understand fashion. Would you consider advising this humble bard? I'm willing to pay for your service."

“The closest thing we have to a bard is Bob Dylan*,” she tells him. “You should listen to one of his records.”

Midge can sympathize with Jaskier. If she was sent to a world where the fashion was very different from what she was used to, it would be frustrating for her too.

Midge smooths down her dress when he compliments her, then gives a short laugh. “I don’t think there’s anything humble about you.”

Standing up, she hums in her throat and gives his body a once over under the guise of determining if he’s able to be helped or not. Really, she’s checking him out just a little. He’s quite tall, much taller than her, which she has no problem with. His build is nice. The hair is a bit long for her usual taste, but the stubble actually looks good on him. His eyes are probably his best feature, a clear light blue. She sneaks a look at his hands too. Hands are important on a man. His are calloused, probably from playing string instruments, but the fingers taper nicely.

“Alright,” Midge says finally, “I’ll help you.”

She doesn’t need to be paid for it, but she’s not going to tell him that yet.

[ *It’s slightly too early for Dylan but we do what we want anyway. ]

Edited 2025-06-15 19:55 (UTC)

"Bob Dylan..." he repeats as he gets lost in thought for a second. "I think I heard his songs. I'm still learning what belongs to whom. There was this bloke- Presley, was it? I like him." He likes how he shakes his hips, he means. Jaskier tries to imitate Elvis' voice when he sing-songs- "You come along with me and put your mind at ease, hey~"

She isn't the first one to call him out for the whole 'humble bard' bit, so he just smiles as innocently as he can. That smile turns into a grin when he realizes what she's doing. Always hungry for attention, Jaskier stands up and takes off his long jacket before moving in a circle to show off. His sleeves are puffy and both his chemise and his vest are decorated with flowers. There are rings on his fingers and the chain around his neck has a small tuning fork. Those lovely cornflower blues of his have some kohl on them, the only make-up he's ever dared to wear back in his world.

He's tempted to ask like what you see?, but for once he keeps it to himself - he's seriously asking for her help here, the flirting can return later. When she agrees to help, he beams with the brightest smile and bows with a hand over his heart.

"My greatest gratitude--"

Before he can say more, the officer hits the bars with his baton before opening the cell. "Bard! You're out." And he sounds quite relieved about it.

Mischievous grin back in place, Jaskier grabs his jacket before winking at Midge. "I'll be right back." A strange thing to say while being bailed out. Ominous, if you will.

A few minutes later, Midge and the rest of the girls are being bailed out, too. Outside, they'll find Jaskier chatting with Geralt, and both of them are leaning against the witcher's motorcycle.

When she finds herself released a few minutes after Jaskier leaves, Midge realizes what he meant when he said he’d be right back. It was extremely kind of him to pay bail for her and the rest of the girls. She will pay him back, of course.

Midge grabs her things from booking and manages to leave the precinct without saying something that would get her re-arrested. When she catches sight of Jaskier and the other man with him, she nearly stops in her tracks.

The other man is even taller than Jaskier with a broad chest, cheekbones to die for, and long silver-white hair. Forget what she said earlier about preferring men with short hair. She obviously didn’t know what she was talking about.

Maybe the other girls have met this guy before, because they’re not swarming him. Maybe they all went blind in jail. Either way, Midge is not going to let an opportunity pass her by. She saunters up to Jaskier and his handsome friend, a grin on her face.

“Is this the hero we have to thank for bailing us out?” she asks sweetly. Up close, Midge can see that his eyes are an almost unearthly golden color. It only adds to his mystique.

The girls have heard enough stories from Jaskier to know about Geralt... but that also means they heard about Yennefer, so they know better than to try anything. They thank Jaskier with a kiss on the cheek and promise to see him around before they leave.

Seeing women getting their underwear wet over Geralt has been happening a lot in this world and is still quite a novelty. It wasn't impossible back home, but the few times it happened, they would change their minds when they realized that Geralt was a witcher. Jaskier working on his reputation did help a bit, and for years, he tried getting dates for his friend too. He always wanted Geralt to be happy, even if it wasn't with him.

No, women falling from Geralt has never bothered him. Jaskier encouraged it even (well, except for Yennefer, but that's a different story). How could he blame them when he felt the same? However, this is the first time that said woman has been on Jaskier's radar first. Love triangles among best friends are as old as humanity itself, so he guesses that this happening for the first time in a little over two decades of friendship is a small mercy.

Midge isn't being subtle, but if there was any doubt, Geralt's nose does that thing where it smells someone's hormones and he smirks at Jaskier, reaching the same conclusion. Jaskier rolls his eyes and mumbles I hate you before stepping away from the bike to meet his cellmate.

Her comment makes him snort. "He brought the wallet, but I was the mastermind. Shall we call it teamwork?" Annoyed as he may be, he wants things to proceed smoothly, so his hands begin gesturing dramatically to indicate his old and (hopefully) new friend. "Midge, this is Geralt. Geralt, this is Midge. Would you at least pretend that you picked up any manners from me?"

Geralt simply nods at Midge, and Jaskier rolls his eyes. One would think he was used to this by now.

"Don't take it personally, he's like that with everyone. Even his wife." A frowning Geralt playfully kicks the back of Jaskier's leg, and Jaskier chuckles, rather pleased with himself. The happy couple has been protesting over being called husband and wife since they've arrived, but Jaskier finds it easier than explaining the whole djinn situation. It's also helped with all the paperwork regarding Cirilla in this world, which is why they only half scold the bard for it.

Speaking of papers - Jaskier takes out a little paper from his pocket, which clearly was torn off from a notebook just a moment ago. He hands it to Midge, and when she unfolds it, she'll find his phone number with his name, which has a little buttercup drawn next to it. His penmanship is exquisite.

"If your offer was sincere, then - we can keep in contact, arrange a little shopping trip?"

Midge has no idea what a witcher is, but it could mean that he can turn into a cockroach and Midge would still find Geralt hot. She wouldn’t consider herself thirsty, but an attractive man is an attractive man.

“Very kind of you,” she replies to Jaskier’s comment about being the mastermind, though she’s looking at Geralt. After being introduced, Midge offers Geralt her hand, hoping that she will get a kiss on the back of it like she got from Jaskier.

Hearing that he has a wife is ultimately not that surprising, but it still feels like someone has popped her balloon. That someone is Jaskier. Midge eyes him, wondering if he’s telling the truth, but Geralt isn’t disputing it. He’s not saying much of anything. The strong, silent type are nice to look at, but Midge does like a bit of banter.

So much for that.

She’s a little annoyed at Jaskier for raining on her parade, but she takes the note with his number on it and puts it in her purse. She gestures for his notebook and pen and writes her name and number on a clean page.

“We can go to B Altman. The girls there will still let me use their employee discount.”

Dropping the wife bomb was a move to annoy Geralt, rain on Midge's parade, and save her from Yennefer's wrath. Jaskier thinks he's a mastermind indeed for pulling that triple threat with just one word.

He's a little nervous about handing her his notebook, and even Geralt raises his eyebrows in surprise. Jaskier never lets anyone look at his lyrics while he's still working on them. But oh well, this technically counts as an emergency, and Midge has enough manners not to look at the other pages.

"Sounds perfect! I shall write tomorrow then." He bows as a way to say goodbye. "Good night, my witty lady."

Both men then get on the bike, and Jaskier gets a helmet from Geralt while complaining about what it does to his hair. Before Geralt puts on his, he turns to Midge and talks in that growl of his.

"He's allergic to peaches. If he gets too annoying, just shove one down his throat."

"HEY!" The rest of Jaskier's protests are lost in the wind as Geralt finally takes off.

The next day, around lunchtime, a text with a poem arrives on Midge's phone.

Laugh a day
Laugh it now
Laugh as loud
as you want;
It shakes up your body
lets good things flow
through your veins;
Don’t think about it
just laugh a minute
or laugh a day
Laugh long as laugh-time

It’s the same thing with her comedy notebook. Midge guards that with her life.

“Goodnight,” she says, and then, sincerely: “Thank you.”

Admittedly, she’s still watching Geralt as he and Jaskier get on the bike. Wife or not, watching Geralt straddle something is doing things to her. She hadn’t noticed his thighs at first. He could crush watermelons with those things.

The raspy sound of his voice takes her aback, but what he says draws a grin from her. She watches as they ride off, then waits for Susie to come pick her up.

She’s sitting in the park the next day when she gets the text. A smile forms on her lips while reading it.

Did you write that?

Jaskier is still at home in his pajamas, raiding the fridge (such a wondrous invention!) while his family is out. Midge responds quite quickly, and he has to smile around his fork. The thank you had sounded sincere, but he couldn't be sure if she was annoyed for his stunt with Geralt('s wife). It seems he's made a good impression after all.

Indeed I did! Did you like it?

She was kind of annoyed, but she guesses that Jaskier’s motivation around telling her that Geralt is married is because he’s interested in her himself. Midge imagines that it’s tough having a friend who looks like that and it’s easy for the bard to get over looked. She’s choosing to see his very convenient mention of Geralt’s wife as flattering to her rather than selfish on his part.

I do. Midge wonders if he wrote it for her or if it’s something he already had in his notebook. I’m free tomorrow if you’d like to go to the store for your modern makeover.

That will also give her time to ask the girls about him tonight when she’s at the club.

"Fuck yeah!" he tells the empty room when she admits liking the poem. He wrote it quickly earlier just to send her something related to her art and he can already see fifty problems with it, but it's served its purpose.

Tomorrow works for me. Send me the address and we can meet there for lunch, mayhap? You could introduce me to your favorite restaurant.

Midge squints at the message on her phone. Lunch too?

Is that your way of asking me out without asking me out?

She could have just thought it, but she’s made a career out of saying what she’s thinking. Before he can send a response, she sends another message.

We can eat at the lunch counter in B Altman. It’s not my favorite restaurant, but it’s good. I used to work at the makeup counter.

[address]

I believe you already know the answer to that question.

The reply takes a few minutes to arrive. He's still learning to type, but the fact that she already said yes has filled him with glee, and he's making more typos than usual. He'd thought he'd have to beg more.

That works as well. And make-up is something you can also educate me on. Although I've already learned that men here don't wear it, same as my home world. I've worn kohl during performances, which has been risky enough. All those creams, though! They sound like something I'd adore on my skin, especially after being on windy or dry roads. I shall be your canvas, if you'll have me.

She did say yes, didn’t she? Well, it’s lunch. Midge figures that can’t hurt. She has some concerns about how many of the girls at the club he’s apparently been with and if he thinks he’s going to try to sweet talk her into his bed.

No, most men don’t wear makeup here. You can probably get away with eyeliner on stage, since it’s part of the performance. The creams are very nice though. More men should use them.

I’ll do my best to be the Henry Higgins to your Eliza Dolittle.

(Look it up.)

More men should take better care of their looks in general.

It irritates him how it's seen as a feminine trait. He likes looking good, and the world would be much happier if everyone looked good.

The next reply also takes a bit to arrive because he's looking up the names as she suggested. As soon as he reads the premise of the play, he bursts out laughing. There's a triple irony here: it kinda matches the hype-man part of his relationship with Geralt, and it makes for a funny twist to think of him as the vulgar one needing education, considering his noble background. And for the third thing--

A flower girl for the man named Buttercup. What a fitting choice on your part.

Obviously, she doesn't know what "jaskier" means, but it's the perfect chance to tease a little.

Is that what your name means? Buttercup?

That explains the flower he drew on the paper. She’ll probably stick with ‘Jaskier’ though.

She doesn't mock him for it, which continues to prove how open-minded she is. He can't wait to hear all the things she has to complain about during her act.

Indeed. A beautiful yet poisonous flower. Perfect name for a handsome poet with a silver tongue. Do you know what "Midge" means?

A man named ‘Buttercup’ is kind of ridiculous, but Midge guesses that he didn’t pick it. Plus she has better manners than to mock him.

Are you trying to use that silver tongue on me?

Feel free to run with that one, Jaskier.

A blood-sucking fly.

Yes, she’s serious. How it became a nickname for women… actually, a man probably came up with it.

But that’s technically a nickname. My real name is Miriam.

It's his turn to squint at the screen as he wonders if she's flirting back or setting up a bit of a trap to mess with him. As convenient as he finds these devices, the lack of tone and body language can sometimes make it hard to understand the messages.

Would you want me to?

The fly thing - it has to be a joke, right? Judging by the message that follows, it seems it isn't. Jaskier stares with an open mouth and realizes it'll be hard to tease Geralt for calling all his horses "roach" after this much worse naming idea.

Miriam is a lovely name. Yet you prefer Midge, regardless of its foul meaning?

As bold as Midge can be in person, there’s something about sending messages that makes a person feel even more brave. Maybe it’s because you don’t actually have to see the other person or their reaction.

Maybe. If you can convince me.

She is flirting back because, well, why not? He’s not a bad-looking guy. It’s flattering, being hit on.

I do. I picked it in high school because Miriam seems so formal and old-sounding. It’s a real nickname, despite what a midge is.

I’ve been told that Miriam means “beloved” or “wished for child”, but I’ve also been told that it means “bitter”. Take your pick.

Jaskier throws his arms in the air to celebrate, the only thing stopping him from expressing his excitement with a dirty word again being the chunk of banana in his mouth.

My witty lady has granted me a mission, one I shall take gladly. Now I can speak freely of that lovely skirt of yours and how I picture myself crawling under it.

A 'high' school - that's Cirilla's age, if Jaskier remembers correctly. So she picked her name (or well, nickname) and did it when she was a teen - another thing they have in common.

I shall not take any pick - it's your name, therefore your pick to take. And if you like Midge, then Midge I'll call you. It's a cute nickname, for the record, fitting for a cute face. The meaning took me by surprise, but I understand why young Miriam chose it.

Well. That opened the door didn’t it? She raises an eyebrow.

I knew you were having impure thoughts about me when we were in that cell.

Seriously though, we haven’t even known each other for 24 hours yet. How do you know that you want to crawl under my skirt?

Lust is simple and men aren’t picky?

I didn’t know it was also the name of a fly when I picked it. I think it’s technically a nickname for Margaret, but that didn’t matter to me.

Be right back, choking on the banana as he laughs at her reaction.

Those are rather judgmental words coming from the woman who was ready to mount my best friend outside the police station. How did you know that you wanted him to kiss your hand?

Two can play this game, missy.

Young Mirian was right, it matters not. Your name is part of who you are, it's what represents you in the outside world - it must be what feels right, Margaret be damned.

She snorts a soft laugh at that response.

Please, I’m a lady. He can at least buy me dinner first.

Sadly, the only one mounting him is his wife, who you were so quick to bring up.

Did your parents really name you Buttercup?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I’m so sorry jaskier

no you're not lol

He’s not sorry either!

he never is lol also laughing so hard at Midge trying to go for a hand kiss (poem by Raj Arumugam)

she thought that was a thing!

she's not completely wrong, sadly Geralt doesn't do court manners

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject