doesntsing | open post

“Well, first of all, I’m offended that you apparently think that a stylish woman can’t be funny,” she jokes.

Her face gets more serious. It’s not that Midge keeps details of her life a secret, but she and Jaskier haven’t discussed this yet.

“I’m divorced,” she starts. “My ex-husband was interested in stand-up comedy. We’d go to the club and I’d make a brisket for the manager so that he could get a good time slot, but he just wasn’t that funny.” And that was with ‘borrowed’ jokes too. “One night he told me that he was leaving me because he was sleeping with his secretary.”

Midge is quiet for a moment. Even after so long, Joel’s betrayal and the destruction of her marriage still hurt.

“That night, I got incredibly drunk and went out to the club in the pouring rain in my nightgown. I got onstage and just let him have it. I was pouring my heart out, but it was funny, and it was… exhilarating, you know?”

As a fellow performer, he should understand that.

Fuck, Jaskier mumbles under his breath as Midge starts explaining. He wasn't expecting something so heavy, and part of him wishes to stop her and bring her smile back. It wouldn't be fair, though. It's her story to tell, and the least he could do is hear her out.

(Mental note: don't ever, ever tell her he's fucked married people.)

The second part of the story is actually hilarious, an anecdote worthy of an artist. But Jaskier keeps his face neutral, not quite sure of how to tackle this yet. He realizes she could've started her story there, without having to explain why she was drunk. Yet she didn't. The series of events is intrinsically bounded and she refuses to separate them - that's important for an artist, to channel those emotions, use them in their art.

Susie probably saw that, Jaskier thinks. She was right. Midge is going to go far.

"I do know. A thrill so high that naughty substances can't even start to imitate. Holding a crowd in the palm of your hand and being the master of their emotions... People believe that judges and kings play god. I think artists do."

Very gently, he reaches to hold her wrist, giving a light squeeze before rubbing her hand with his calloused thumb.

"Sorry I made you bring this up. I could've never guessed..." He shakes his head. "I was expecting something about a woman trying to make it in the sea of cocks. Which was what I meant, by the way." She was clearly joking about being offended, but considering the turn this took, better to throw some assurance out there. He does think pretty ladies can be funny, but he also knows the reality of the industry. "Thank you for sharing. That last bit? I couldn't have written a better prologue for a comedian. I wish I could've seen you. It sounds like it was very raw." His tone says that's a positive thing.

Whether she likes it or not, Joel cheating on her was the catalyst that got her onto the stage. She doesn’t necessarily make a secret of it and she doesn’t mind Jaskier knowing, especially because he seems romantically interested in her.

The touch of his hand against hers, calloused though his fingers may be, feels nice.

“I’m also a woman trying to make it in a sea of cocks,” she confirms. It’s been an uphill battle. “I went back a few nights later after a disastrous Passover seder at which Joel and I tried to pretend that everything was fine.” Midge glances up at him. “I’m Jewish. If you know what that is. It’s a religion and… honestly a culture.”

That’s another thing Jaskier would learn about her sooner or later. Hopefully, being from another world entirely means that he doesn’t have any sort of negative preconceived notions about Jews.

He winces at the story, understanding enough to know what happened. It brings memories of family dinners spent pretending that the middle child didn't like kissing boys as much as he liked kissing girls.

"You've mentioned several words I don't understand, but I got the idea. Holiday with the family, keeping up appearances."

A pause. His thumb stops moving, but he doesn't remove his hand. This was supposed to be a fun game, yet here they are. Religion isn't exactly a conversation they should be having during a game, and yet... Jaskier thinks back to what he thought during their texting: better get things out of the way now.

"I'm not a friend of religion." His face is very serious. "And that's putting it extremely lightly. I hope that won't be a problem."

So much for your fun game, Jaskier. Midge really didn’t mean for it to get so serious so quickly. She probably ought to try to lighten the mood, though maybe they should just put all of their cards on the table.

It’s the most serious that she’s ever seen him before, and Midge wonders what sort of trauma he experienced with religion where he comes from. She knows plenty of people here who have had similar experiences.

“It’s alright. Religion is a complicated thing. Mine is not the dominant one and our people have been persecuted in the past.” That’s putting the genocide lightly. “Respect is all that I ask for.” As for her parents? Well. That’s getting a little bit ahead of things, isn’t it?

“If it’s my turn…” Midge takes a deep breath, debating how best to ask this question and ultimately deciding not to beat around the bush. “I spoke with some of the girls at the club about you and they told me that I should speak with Brandon…”

Midge presumes that Jaskier sleeping with men isn’t something that he keeps secret. The girls told him and Brandon was forthcoming too.

“I, um… do you like women and men?” Before he pulls away from her, Midge tries to explain herself. “I’ve heard of that before, but I’ve never met anyone… maybe it’s common where you come from?”

Is she explaining herself badly? She just wants him to know that she isn’t mad or necessarily turned off. She just wants to understand- and be reassured that he really is interested in her.

"Respect indeed," he responds in agreement. Coming from another person, he'd be more wary to agree. But she explains that her people were also persecuted, and considering all the other things they've talked about, like Elftown - well, she doesn't seem like the type of gal who asks to respect a shitty opinion.

Midge talked to the girls, huh? He wonders why - just self-preservation, making sure he's safe? Or curiosity about Jaskier's intimate stories? She looks so serious, though; is she going to have a problem with him sleeping around?

Then she brings up Brandon, and Jaskier's entire body tenses.

Brandon trusting her with that information should be a good sign, should speak well of where she stands. But the fact that she's bringing up this after their conversation about religion and keeping up appearances makes him nervous.

Jaskier doesn't know what to expect. But her calling it 'common in his world' is definitely not it.

It hits him with such a mood whiplash! He's expecting the worst, yet her question is just... innocent. Curious.

He can't help it. He has to laugh. The hand is pulled back, but not for a bad reason: the idea is just so ridiculous that he has to grab his body as he bends over.

"Common?" he manages to ask between chuckles. "Goodness, no! Why do you think I'm not a friend of a religion?" As the laughing calms down, his hands go crazy with gesturing. "I mean, that and other hundred reasons, including censorship and book burning, but, you know... I'm quite sure that's number one on the list."

After sipping more juice, he leans back in his seat and tils his head, looking at her like she's the most precious thing.

"Yes, I like women, men, and everything in the middle. I don't care what is in your underwear as long as it's happy to see me." Wink~

She’s a little concerned when he starts to laugh, but his response makes her relax a bit. The fact that he didn’t get angry or deny it leads her to believe that he’s not trying to hide anything about himself.

“There are a lot of people here who don’t agree with it either,” she says. “It’s taboo.”

Midge looks over at him, offering a little smile at his wink.

“You’re pretty open about it. Some gay men here sleep with women in order to hide the fact that they really like men. You’re saying you like… everyone?”

It’s the last bit of reassurance that she needs that he’s actually interested in her.

"So I've noticed," he replies more seriously. "I wouldn't call myself 'pretty open'. It depends on the person and the context. Brandon and the girls trusted you with the information, and we've talked about other taboo subjects. You're open-minded and appreciate my love for fashion." His expression softens - his smile is raw, tinted by years of dealing with lots of shit. "You made me feel safe. So thanks."

A little sigh. "But you won't see me sing it on the streets, even if people do tend to assume because of my mannerisms. I promise you that Ciri hasn't told her friends that their math teacher was absent on exam day because her uncle fucked him."

Her next words slowly sink in and he finally realizes why she wanted to ask this, besides curiosity and wanting a better understanding. And after what she said about her ex-husband, he understands why. An urge to protect her is starting to grow, and Jaskier wonders if he could convince Yennefer to send a curse after the bastard who broke her heart.

"Oh, darling, is that what you were afraid of?" He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. "Yes, I like everyone. Brandon is the one exclusively into men. Which kinda broke Roxy's heart because we were hoping for a threesome." If the girls have shared stories with her already, he assumes that's safe to share too. "If you need assurance of how much I desire you, I can call Geralt. His nose can smell arousal."

Which means Midge was less subtle than they thought the other night. Oopsie.

Jaskier just said… a lot, and she’s sure that her surprise shows on her face. Apparently she’s made him feel very safe when it comes to sharing personal information. It seems that he’s not shy at all when it comes to sex.

Midge isn’t prude, but she doesn’t think she’s nearly experienced enough to keep up with him. It’s strange. Most men who just want to sleep with her are the type that she would tell to fuck off. It feels different with Jaskier. Maybe because it feels like he genuinely cares for her.

“Geralt can smell arousal?” Midge asks, then a realization hits her. “Oh God, did he think…?”

He probably did. She wasn’t subtle. Her cheeks turn red.

Jaskier is definitely not shy about sex. He may hide the gender of his partners sometimes, but talking about naughty things? That's free for all.

Look at those cheeks. So cute. "Oh, yes, he did," he replies while laughing at her reaction. "But to be fair, I could tell too, and I didn't need a hound's nose for it." She wasn't subtle, he's trying to say.

At that moment, their food arrives. Jaskier thanks the waitress with a compliment and offers a sweet smile, not being able to stop the flirting even at times like this.

"It's my turn, isn't it?" He takes a bite of his salad while deciding what topic to go for next. There are many options, yet his curiosity makes him go back to a certain thing. "Please stop me if I'm accidentally stumbling into another dark moment, but I hope you understand - there's no such thing as divorce in my world, so my curiosity is itching. You're legally allowed to say you're 'single' now? You live alone?"

“That’s really embarrassing,” Midge replies. “Maybe he ought to try being less hot though.”

After taking a bite of her sandwich, she answers his next question.

“Yes, I’m single, but I don’t live alone. I have two children.” Does that surprise him? “Ethan is 5 and Esther is 2. Joel and I split custody of them so they’re not at the apartment all the time. My parents also live with me and I wish I could split custody of them with someone else because they’re always there.”

Peace and quiet is a rarity at home.

Geralt doesn't even think he is hot in the first place, but Jaskier decides he doesn't want to discuss his best friend's self-esteem issues and lets the matter go.

"...you're a mother?"

Indeed, it does surprise him. They've gone through many complicated subjects, yet this one is the one that leaves him with wide eyes and an open mouth. It's not like he hasn't fucked mothers before, and her age isn't even something he'd think about because women marry and give birth that young in his world too. No, the reason why it's surprising is her willingness to still go out to bars and have fun, especially when the kids are still that young.

There is no judgment on his part, though. The exact opposite, in fact. She wants to have fun, she wants her freedom, she says fuck you to what society expects of her. As if Jaskier needed another reason to be attracted to her.

He snaps out of it when she makes the joke about her parents, and he laughs.

"That does sound like a little piece of hell. But that means free babysitters, right?" They must know about her career, he realizes. He may already have his next question, but it's her turn. "As frustrating as it sounds, I'm glad you aren't alone."

At first she thinks his astonishment is a judgement. A mother should be home taking care of her children, not galavanting around at night. It’s a guilt trip she’s given herself before. Midge really ought to know Jaskier better by now, because it’s clear that his expression is one of wonder and not shame. She’d like to think she happens to look fantastic for a mother of two. He seems to agree.

“Exactly.” She grins. “I’m glad not to be alone.” Even though her family drives her insane sometimes, they’re very close. “Tell me about who you live with other than Geralt. His wife? Your niece?”

"I also live with family," he replies with no hesitation - because that's what they are, blood be damned. "Geralt, his wife Yennefer, and their daughter Cirilla. They are--" He freezes when he remembers something, and then he gets all excited. "Waitwaitwait, I have the perfect thing--"

Jaskier gets his jacket and starts searching all the pockets for his notebook. "Those camera thingies, oh, what wondrous invention. I traveled so much, Midge, do you have any idea how I would've loved to have such a device-- ah-ha!"

From the last pages of his notebook, Jaskier takes out a Polaroid picture that he puts down on the table to show Midge. It's the four of them at a diner shortly after they arrived, so they're still wearing their medieval clothes. The waitress took the picture. Geralt has his arm on the back of the booth seat and Yennefer is resting her head on it as they both look at Cirilla with obvious fondness. On the opposite side of the table, Jaskier and Ciri are excitedly pouring chocolate syrup on a huge sundae.

"Life with three immortals can bruise one's ego, so I hope those creams you recommend work for both my skin and my pride."

Midge grins as she looks at the photo. Geralt’s wife is stunning, as Midge predicted. Not that she was planning to make a move on him anyway, but she’d stand no chance against her. Ciri is beautiful too, and seeing Jaskier have fun with her warms her heart as a mother.

“They’re immortal?” she asks. “Gee, it’d be great to look like that forever, huh? They’re your family?”

She wonders about his biological family, but doesn’t ask.

At first, he only nods at her question since he's attacking the salad while she looks at the picture. Midge is smiling, so it seems she doesn't find Jaskier's situation weird. Good. It's so hard to explain sometimes. Then again, she doesn't have background on witchers or the Law of Surprise.

He takes another sip of his juice before replying again. "They are. I've known Geralt since I was eighteen. That's--" He wiggles his fingers as he makes the mental math. "--twenty-five years ago. Fuck."

Jaskier pauses for a second. He's a very energetic man at 42, and he hasn't felt the weight of his age yet, but sometimes when he mentions the numbers, it hits him like a hammer. He worries about what will happen to his family when he isn't there to keep them grounded anymore.

"Sorry, where was I? Right- Met Geralt when I was eighteen, and we met Yennefer--" Another pause for more mental math. "--sixteen years later. We used to hate each other's guts, but war has a way to bring people together." He rubs the tips of his burnt fingers. "Geralt says that sometimes he misses it when we didn't get along because now we can team up against his stubborn arse."

Edited 2025-06-19 00:19 (UTC)

She never would have guessed that he was 42. He looks much younger than that. “I’m 27,” she offers. A man isn’t supposed to ask a woman her age, so she tells him instead. Besides, she doesn’t think it needs to be some kind of big secret. She’s not that old yet.

Midge keeps eating her lunch as they talk. “Isn’t it great when you get to team up with family members against other ones?”

That's around the age he's guessed for her, so he isn't surprised. At least she isn't bothered by his age - he's noticed that people in this world are more touchy about age gaps. Jaskier doesn't care as long as they're adults.

"Oh, it absolutely is. Ciri and I make a killing team. Although I wonder if you'll think the same when your kids are old enough to team up against you."

Part of him wants to ask what her parents think of her recent choices, but he can't bring himself to do it. They've finally brought back the playful mood to the conversation, and he doesn't want to ruin it again. Besides, if she keeps asking about his own family, he'll have to talk about Lettenhove, and he isn't ready for that.

"What is your favorite flower?" Sounds like a silly one, but it's important to him.

She’s fine with the lighter turn of the conversation. They’ve had enough seriousness for one day.

“Oh, they already do that,” Midge assures him.

The question is actually a harder one to answer than she thought it would be, and Midge takes a moment to think about it. “Roses are classic,” she answers, “but I like peonies and dahlias too.”

He chuckles at the mental image of those two little menaces already teaming up against her. With such a sassy mother, it's not surprising that the siblings are developing an attitude too.

"Roses, peonies, and dahlias," he counts with his fingers. "And you looked like a cute chickpea in your new dress. This may be just a silly theory, but I thiiiiink pink is your favorite color."

“It’s actually red,” Midge says, “but I like pink as well.” What can she say? She’s feminine.

“You looked very handsome in that suit,” she continues. “It was hard for me to keep my hands off of you.”

Flirting is even more fun than light conversation.

The flirting takes him by surprise, and he can't help blinking a few times as if double-checking this is real. It seems that the shopping trip and their little game have made Jaskier grow on her. (This is going straight to his ego.)

As a grin appears on his face, he carefully stretches a leg to touch her foot with his.

"So I wasn't imagining things," he teases. "Playing with me in a private room - you're a very dangerous lady. I kept wishing I could keep you there for a few more hours..." He leans in and winks as he whispers. "The danger of getting caught makes it more thrilling."

Midge happens to be growing quite fond of him. She feels a bit more reassured with the explanation about his sexuality, even if she still doesn’t really understand how a person can be attracted to everyone. It’s clear that Jaskier is quite attracted to her though, and she can’t discourage that.

She taps her foot back against his. “There will be other private rooms,” Midge says, “ones that will probably be more comfortable than that one.” A shiver of desire goes up her spine at his whispered words and she can’t help herself. She has to push it further. “And what would you do with me if you had me all to yourself for a few hours?” she murmurs.

As soon as she mentions more comfortable rooms, Jaskier can't stop his tongue from wetting his lips, his brain providing a wonderful mental image of her sprawled on the bed of one of those fancy hotels.

She's asking for more right at the table of a busy restaurant, and what else can Jaskier do but provide? Midge is going to drive him crazy, he can tell. The magic of connecting with another artist, the sparks are on a different level.

"I would crawl under your skirt--" His foot raises to caress her ankle. "Take off your panties with my teeth, and show you exactly what the trained mouth of a singer can do."

She lets out a breathy oh at the picture that he’s painting. Midge can’t deny that it’s a nice one. Her pulse starts to pick up and she can feel her arousal growing at the idea of him under her skirt.

There’s something exciting about having this conversation in the middle of a restaurant, talking low with their heads close together. Even if they’re in public, no one is really paying attention to them.

“I think I’d like that,” she tells him quietly. “How long do you think you can stay down there?”

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject