As soon as she takes his hand, he pulls to make her go swimming with him. The mention of his accent makes him laugh.
"So it truly is a thing? You aren't the first to comment on it. Although some people expect it to be a little more--" He changes to something more lordly and posh. "Good day, Lady Miriam."
Midge laughs at his posh accent— though she kind of loves it.
“Good day, Lord Jaskier,” she replies in the same accent. “Yes, it’s an English accent. The people in England speak the same way that you and your family do. Immigrants came from England and established America, though our accent changed somewhere along the way. I think if you visited England, you’d find it more familiar to where you came from. Have you ever seen the Queen on television or heard her on the radio?”
He laughs at her accent as well as he guides her to swim in the waves.
"Don't make me bring out the waterrrrr again," he teases while saying water the American way. "I have heard of a Queen, but not her voice. I'm still getting the hang of the politics here. I recognize the country, though, everyone thinks I'm from there. And The Beatles are fucking good." Of course, he has to sing a bit of Love Me Do.
"Oh darling, I could never discriminate against your people like that! Geralt and I have been to other states; my point still stands!"
He hasn't been to Texas, though. That will make him appreciate New York so much more.
"And for a good reason!" he replies while swimming full breaststroke style. He keeps glancing at her because they're chatting, but also because she looks extra cute swimming. "Now if only people assuming I'm from the same place meant they wanted me as a star that sounds like them, that would be sweet."
If Jaskier thinks New York City is repressive, wait until he visits the Deep South.
It’s hard to swim any sort of organized stroke in the ocean, with the waves pushing you around. Midge is just kind of moving her arms and legs, trying to stay afloat.
“You could pivot to rock and roll music,” she says. “You already do covers of the stuff on the radio.”
"Not a bad idea," he says while turning his body to swim on his back. "I need to get the hang of it. What I've written lately is more similar to my style, so I feel comfortable. Listening to new music is easy, writing it not so much. I'll need to get better at local slang, as well. I've noticed rock and roll isn't as poetic."
Suddenly he dives in to swim a bit underwater. He resurfaces behind Midge and tries to take her by surprise by tickling her.
He wraps his arms around her in return, and since she seems to be ok with PDA, he tilts his body back and floats with her on top of him. Cozy.
"Ugh, don't remind me," he says with a groan as he throws his head back. "Every winter, when I returned to Oxenfurt, my professors had a lot to say about me singing silly jigs in taverns."
Jaskier responds with his most innocent smile. He won't force her to stay if she's uncomfortable.
"When I started I had no stature! So they thought I kicked off my career with the wrong foot - singing in taverns? About a WITCHER? The scandal! As years passed and my popularity grew, they couldn't complain as much considering I sang in courts and my books were in the Oxenfurt library. But they still made many passive-aggressive comments or backhanded compliments."
“I haven’t thought of myself as an artist until pretty recently, but what’s popular will always be looked down upon and not considered real art. But the popular stuff is what pays your bills.”
"You know what's not real art?" he asks while rubbing her back. "Those paintings that are just lines and blotches. How the fuck is it fair that those things get paid?"
“It’s supposed to be ~representational,” Midge says with a wave of her hand. “It’s supposed to evoke feelings and not be taken literally.”
She’s kidding. She’s not much of a fan of what passes for art these days, but art people will tell you that splotches on canvas are brilliant and have hidden meanings.
"I understand metaphors and shapes that represent feelings, that's not it!" he says with clear frustration. He tries to express that frustration with his usual crazy gesturing, meaning he accidentally lets go of Midge and her body slides off.
"...oops. Sorry," he says, but he's also chuckling. "Maybe this is a sign telling us to actually swim."
“Hey!” Midge says with a laugh as she slides off his chest. She puts her feet back down in the sand. “Floating is probably better kept to the pool. Anyway, I’m not a fan either. Stuff like that isn’t commercial anyway. Most people want portraits or nice landscapes.”
"I thought you wanted to drink at the pool," he teases before getting into a swimming position. "I'm going to swim a little further into the waves. Want to come? No hard feelings if you don't."
It seems Midge isn't as enthusiastic as he is about the ocean, but that's ok.
Jaskier has the time of his life swimming in the deeper area - he truly missed this. He stays there for a while, enjoying the bright sun and the feeling of the water around him. It's amazing to just float, to feel like his body isn't bound to a place. He wonders if this is how birds feel when they fly.
With so many people on summer vacation, it's inevitable for him to chat with strangers, especially since some women who didn't see Midge are happy to approach him. He talks and charms everyone, but eventually, he needs to rest and makes his way back to the umbrella.
"Aww, now I can't play with the pennants!" he teases when he sees the towel around her body, and leans in to kiss her cheek, which means dripping water all over her.
Midge watches him for a little while. She has no problem with him talking to other women. It doesn’t seem like particularly flirtatious chatter.
Eventually she gets out her book to read. After only a few pages, the ocean air and her weariness from the day’s activities take over and Midge closes her eyes. She’s awakened by Jaskier leaning over to kiss her.
“You just want to touch my boobs in public,” she replies. “Hey, I was dry!”
"But I like you better wet," he teases while he gets his towel. He starts drying his hair while sitting on the edge of her chair to peek at her book. "So, is it any good?"
Reading a few lines already has him chuckling, so he starts reading aloud with lots of dramatics, deepening his voice for the guy's lines and trying a high pitch for the girl's.
"The tall, slender blond man in the suit of violet silk had attached himself to Bliss's side early in the evening. He plied her with glass after glass of sweet wine, flattered her outrageously, danced with her, and teased her until she giggled uncontrollably.
She pushed his hands away as he tried to tug at the ribbons of her mask. "No, you mustn't!" she chided, a giggle in her voice that was caused half by amusement and half by the wine she had consumed that evening.
"But it's nearly midnight," he protested, his pale blue eyes admiring her through the slits in his purple velvet mask. His hair of cornflower yellow tumbled to his shoulders and rolled over into great natural ringlets. "Let me see your face, my beauty," he coaxed.
"How do you know I am a beauty?" Bliss challenged. "You cannot see my face."
"I know by the curve of your delectable lips," he purred, his own lips brushing her ear. "How I long to kiss them!"
"You judge a woman's beauty by the shape of her lips, then?" Bliss asked.
"And by the sparkle of your beautiful eyes," he whispered. "How I long to see them glowing with desire!"
"So it is by her eyes and lips that you judge a woman?" Bliss prompted, a strange quivering in her stomach.
"And by her body." His fingertips brushed, as if by accident, over the creamy swells of Bliss's breasts above the lacy edge of her neckline. "How exquisite you are. I long to hold you, to caress you, to be your lover."
He turns to Midge as he snickers. "Are your swells creamy as well?"
Midge’s cheeks turn red and it’s not because of the sun. She starts to laugh into her hand. Jaskier’s delivery is really adding to the ridiculousness of the book.
“I don’t know,” she replies to his question. “You tell me.”
"I think they are very creamy, that's why I like sucking on them," he whispers before reading a little more.
"Bliss clutched her fan with a sweaty hand. She thought she knew who this rash young man was, a young viscount who had succeeded to his title but recently. He was busily cutting a swath through the ranks of the females of the court and it was whispered had been entertained by Castlemaine herself. He was vain, self-centered, conceited and unutterably handsome. Bliss had often seen him courting this lady or that. He was far from the dashing, tall, dark, masterful stranger she dreamed of in her girlish fantasies, but he was known to court only the most beautiful women at Whitehall and therefore to be singled out for his attention was something of a coup."
He huffs playfully. "I don't know if being flattered or offended by this!"
“It’s art imitating life,” Midge agrees. A very flirtatious viscount? Sounds familiar. “Guess he’s not concerned with mundane things like getting married and passing on the bloodline either — or at least not yet.”
These romance novels are a bit formulaic to say the least.
"I'm getting suspicious of why you chose this book," he teases. The mention of marriage and bloodline makes him wrinkle his nose. "Wasn't he a thief?"
He checks the back of the book. "He is! He deserves a better, more exciting ending!" He takes the book from Midge to check the ending while still chatting with her. "Is this what you want? To attend a masquerade?"
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"So it truly is a thing? You aren't the first to comment on it. Although some people expect it to be a little more--" He changes to something more lordly and posh. "Good day, Lady Miriam."
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“Good day, Lord Jaskier,” she replies in the same accent. “Yes, it’s an English accent. The people in England speak the same way that you and your family do. Immigrants came from England and established America, though our accent changed somewhere along the way. I think if you visited England, you’d find it more familiar to where you came from. Have you ever seen the Queen on television or heard her on the radio?”
a ltitle early for the Beatles but fuck it
"Don't make me bring out the waterrrrr again," he teases while saying water the American way. "I have heard of a Queen, but not her voice. I'm still getting the hang of the politics here. I recognize the country, though, everyone thinks I'm from there. And The Beatles are fucking good." Of course, he has to sing a bit of Love Me Do.
fuck it we ball
She kicks her legs as she swims next to him. “The Beatles are fucking good,” she agrees. “People are crazy about them.”
maybe they should go to London one weekend lol
He hasn't been to Texas, though. That will make him appreciate New York so much more.
"And for a good reason!" he replies while swimming full breaststroke style. He keeps glancing at her because they're chatting, but also because she looks extra cute swimming. "Now if only people assuming I'm from the same place meant they wanted me as a star that sounds like them, that would be sweet."
yess since they can go by portal
It’s hard to swim any sort of organized stroke in the ocean, with the waves pushing you around. Midge is just kind of moving her arms and legs, trying to stay afloat.
“You could pivot to rock and roll music,” she says. “You already do covers of the stuff on the radio.”
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Suddenly he dives in to swim a bit underwater. He resurfaces behind Midge and tries to take her by surprise by tickling her.
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“That’s always the artist’s dilemma, isn’t it?” she asks. “To make what they want or to make what’s popular.”
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"Ugh, don't remind me," he says with a groan as he throws his head back. "Every winter, when I returned to Oxenfurt, my professors had a lot to say about me singing silly jigs in taverns."
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“Did they think that was undignified for an artist of your stature?” she asks.
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"When I started I had no stature! So they thought I kicked off my career with the wrong foot - singing in taverns? About a WITCHER? The scandal! As years passed and my popularity grew, they couldn't complain as much considering I sang in courts and my books were in the Oxenfurt library. But they still made many passive-aggressive comments or backhanded compliments."
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“I haven’t thought of myself as an artist until pretty recently, but what’s popular will always be looked down upon and not considered real art. But the popular stuff is what pays your bills.”
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He huffs. He'll forever be salty about those.
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She’s kidding. She’s not much of a fan of what passes for art these days, but art people will tell you that splotches on canvas are brilliant and have hidden meanings.
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"...oops. Sorry," he says, but he's also chuckling. "Maybe this is a sign telling us to actually swim."
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It seems Midge isn't as enthusiastic as he is about the ocean, but that's ok.
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“I plan to drink and float,” she replies, then kisses him. “Be careful, my handsome merman. I’ll see you back on shore.”
Midge treks back to the lounge chairs and umbrella. After wrapping a towel around her, she lays on the chair, relaxing under the umbrella.
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With so many people on summer vacation, it's inevitable for him to chat with strangers, especially since some women who didn't see Midge are happy to approach him. He talks and charms everyone, but eventually, he needs to rest and makes his way back to the umbrella.
"Aww, now I can't play with the pennants!" he teases when he sees the towel around her body, and leans in to kiss her cheek, which means dripping water all over her.
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Eventually she gets out her book to read. After only a few pages, the ocean air and her weariness from the day’s activities take over and Midge closes her eyes. She’s awakened by Jaskier leaning over to kiss her.
“You just want to touch my boobs in public,” she replies. “Hey, I was dry!”
I'm (not) sorry
Reading a few lines already has him chuckling, so he starts reading aloud with lots of dramatics, deepening his voice for the guy's lines and trying a high pitch for the girl's.
"The tall, slender blond man in the suit of violet silk had attached himself to Bliss's side early in the evening. He plied her with glass after glass of sweet wine, flattered her outrageously, danced with her, and teased her until she giggled uncontrollably.
She pushed his hands away as he tried to tug at the ribbons of her mask. "No, you mustn't!" she chided, a giggle in her voice that was caused half by amusement and half by the wine she had consumed that evening.
"But it's nearly midnight," he protested, his pale blue eyes admiring her through the slits in his purple velvet mask. His hair of cornflower yellow tumbled to his shoulders and rolled over into great natural ringlets. "Let me see your face, my beauty," he coaxed.
"How do you know I am a beauty?" Bliss challenged. "You cannot see my face."
"I know by the curve of your delectable lips," he purred, his own lips brushing her ear. "How I long to kiss them!"
"You judge a woman's beauty by the shape of her lips, then?" Bliss asked.
"And by the sparkle of your beautiful eyes," he whispered. "How I long to see them glowing with desire!"
"So it is by her eyes and lips that you judge a woman?" Bliss prompted, a strange quivering in her stomach.
"And by her body." His fingertips brushed, as if by accident, over the creamy swells of Bliss's breasts above the lacy edge of her neckline. "How exquisite you are. I long to hold you, to caress you, to be your lover."
He turns to Midge as he snickers. "Are your swells creamy as well?"
i love it
“I don’t know,” she replies to his question. “You tell me.”
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"Bliss clutched her fan with a sweaty hand. She thought she knew who this rash young man was, a young viscount who had succeeded to his title but recently. He was busily cutting a swath through the ranks of the females of the court and it was whispered had been entertained by Castlemaine herself. He was vain, self-centered, conceited and unutterably handsome. Bliss had often seen him courting this lady or that. He was far from the dashing, tall, dark, masterful stranger she dreamed of in her girlish fantasies, but he was known to court only the most beautiful women at Whitehall and therefore to be singled out for his attention was something of a coup."
He huffs playfully. "I don't know if being flattered or offended by this!"
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These romance novels are a bit formulaic to say the least.
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He checks the back of the book. "He is! He deserves a better, more exciting ending!" He takes the book from Midge to check the ending while still chatting with her. "Is this what you want? To attend a masquerade?"
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totally stealing the analysis from the website lol I'm not good with old English
steal away
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