#muse; jaskier

[writtenmisfits]

@witchered asked

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that." @ jaskier

"What? I'm not looking at you like anything." Jaskier lies, lyingly.

He is, in fact, looking at Geralt very much like he is everything, and he knows very well that he shouldn't be doing that. He should not be gazing so fondly and tenderly at the Witcher as he eats the morning meal of bread, potatoes, and sausage at the latest tavern they have stopped at on their travels. There is no good reason for him to, other than the silly and not at all serious crush he has had on his friend and traveling companion for years now. No, best to ignore it than to acknowledge its existence, which would only complicate things between them.

And what they have is fine. What they have is good. Companionship and trust and witty banter through thick and thin. So be it if nothing more comes from it. As long as he's traveling with Geralt, and not being left on the side of some mountain with sad, wet eyes and slippery boots... it's fine.

But he doesn't think Geralt is looking, and so he chances the glance only to be caught as such and now he has to pretend that he is, in fact, not looking at Geralt in any particular sort of way. Certainly not like a pining idiot who knows better.

So he looks down at his own sad meal of shriveled sausage and dry potatoes, of hard bread and cheap, perfume-y mead and picks at the plate with his fork, going on to pretend he was not, in fact, looking at Geralt at all.

"Honestly, sometimes, I think traveling on the road messes with your mind and makes it a bit funny. What you need is a break."

[writtenmisfits]

@taleswritten asked

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that." geralt for jaskier

"Looking at you like what? Like you're the most handsome, generous, and bravest man who has ever gallantly come to my rescue in such a time of need?" Jaskier asks with a wide grin on his face as he drapes his arms around Geralt's shoulders, still feeling a bit shaken, but ever so grateful for his Witcher's heroics.

It was just a spider, of course. Not even magical or monstrous. One that had the audacity to fall down out of the tree the bard had been leaning against while tuning his lute. Thank whatever gods exist that the instrument is nigh indestructible. Geralt, ever so stoic and probably a little annoyed, had brushed the threat off of Jaskier's doublet and vanquished the beast with his boot, no doubt saving his bard in the process.

Of course, he will have to make the spider monstrous or magical, or perhaps both, when he composes the ballad for it, but for now he wants to show Geralt his deep appreciation for his savior.

"You are," a kiss, "my hero," another kiss, "and I am ever so grateful to you for saving me yet again. How can I ever repay you?" The poet asks with half a tease, half sincerity, and all mischief held in his gaze as he looks at his Witcher with a gentle and appreciative smile.

[writtenmisfits]

@roguefangs asked

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience." @ jaskier

"Am I?" Jaskier asks as he continues to twirl one of Astarion's white curls in his fingers, twisting it this way and that as he truly takes in the texture and the feel of it. "And here I thought I was playing with your hair."

It's been an adjustment, being the spawn of a spawn, but he's decided to adopt the principal of radical acceptance about it. There is hardly anything that can be done to reverse such a condition, save divine intervention or a Wish spell. Neither does Jaskier think he'll have the chance of coming across, especially anytime soon with this Cult of the Absolute business ahead of him.

So any sort of distraction is better than nothing, even if it does annoy his sire, but he has to get the texture of Astarion's hair right for the portrait he's been sketching for the past few hours.

"If it's really that annoying, I'll stop, but then this drawing will never be finished and you'll never be able to see you the way I see you."

[cacophonyofpersonalities]

@driftingjazzbard

  Somewhere far, far away from the hustle and bustle of main cities and overly energetic taverns sat a man and his quill. Writing effortlessly the deeds and tales of the many people who he has come across along his travels. Recounting with pain-staking detail how foes were vanquished and maidens were rescued from the clutches of some dark and damned lot. Brows rose as he found himself particularly impressed by these series of lines which he had constructed, but still there wasn’t quite the element there that he had wanted just yet. No, the next few lines would certainly fix that! 

Yes. 

Well, maybe.

Was this becoming a little too garish and self-congratulating? Piss on that, there was no way that his writing would be such a way. Wait, was that a pretty brunette who had just entered the tavern from the corner of his eye? Casually he cast a glance over towards the woman’s direction and was a fair bit more discreet than he was normally but, then that was also because he had been completely engrossed in this song crafting. Perhaps he could fair a chance to get up and speak to this one? Oh but that --  wait -- that was a lute on her person? 

Consider his interest thoroughly piqued.

[cacophonyofpersonalities]

💞 Jaskier, favorite sexual position?

"Absolutely all of them! Even better if we can mix and match positions until both of us are left incredibly satisfied by the experience."

[cacophonyofpersonalities]

crew-from-capulet Tarren@Jaskier (just for funsies): "Oh, your performance was wonderful! I've never heard anyone play like you!"

Without meaning to flourish, or maybe he did just a little, Jaskier turned around to see who had complimented him so graciously -- ah, a new face at this particular venue! Giving his per usual charming smile that often made some members of audience like him -- and others want to kick his ass -- he stepped over. "Thank you, you're words are too kind." Yes, pet his bard ego just a tiny bit more. "I haven't seen you around here before though and I do come here quite often. Are you perchance passing through?"