Jaskier "old-timey fuckboy" Alfred Pankratz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cointosser) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2022-01-17 02:29 pm
cointosser) wrote in abraxaslogs2022-01-17 02:29 pm
[ OPEN/SOME CLOSED ] if I had to do it over, I'd do it all again
Who: Jaskier, Ciri, Geralt, Yennefer, Alucard, and some open prompts
When: Mid-to-Late January
Where: Cadens and the Horizon
What: Jaskier wakes from a vivid, nasty dream to physical evidence that it was unfortunately very real. He spirals, but like, only a little bit. It mostly involves getting drunk and buying hats to cope.
Warnings: Mentions of bodily injury/torture, maybe PTSD, heavy drinking
[Will be throwing starters (including open ones) down below! You can hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
scathefire or #scathefire6612 if you'd like to plot anything or want an additional starter. Also, let me know if you'd like me to avoid S2 spoilers, because there will be a lot.]
When: Mid-to-Late January
Where: Cadens and the Horizon
What: Jaskier wakes from a vivid, nasty dream to physical evidence that it was unfortunately very real. He spirals, but like, only a little bit. It mostly involves getting drunk and buying hats to cope.
Warnings: Mentions of bodily injury/torture, maybe PTSD, heavy drinking
[Will be throwing starters (including open ones) down below! You can hit me up at
no subject
He does not appreciate being wrong. (Because then Geralt couldn't even give him that much, could he?)
What once was comforting is now quickly becoming the opposite. He clears his throat, attempts to move over. There is nowhere to go.
What is it with people he knows cornering him? Does he simply give off the impression of some sort of bird, perhaps a fox? A fox simply begging to be caged?]
Yes, well, you and everyone, apparently, within a ten-mile radius. [It's the first edge to rise to his voice, brows turning into a frown. He occupies himself deeply with drinking, as if there is nothing more he should be doing. Nothing more to be looking at. Yes, practically everyone he's met once that he is running into again knows something is wrong with him. And as much as he does not want to be questioned or asked after, he cannot simply be. He is not that man anymore. He never can be again.
And in time, he imagines, there are plenty who will not want who he is now.
Yes, well. They'll have to line up behind Geralt, won't they? What's a few more heartbreaks on top of everything else?]
Ah.. Since Geralt failed to mention me, as per usual: I'm not fine, Sam. I'm not. I simply have no energy to pretend otherwise. But I don't want nor need to be cornered and interrogated about it, either. There's... [His fingers curl around the mug, and he spins it slowly for something for his fingers to do.] Nothing I say will change anything.
no subject
he noticed how jaskier was acting, and whether or not sam wants the space, he offers it anyway. swallows back the heavy, awkward feeling in his chest.
sam keeps his expression neutral, though - the faint hint of concern and thoughtful worry heavy in the wrinkles around his eyes. the edge in jaskier’s voice is palpable, but sam doesn’t wince under it. doesn’t so much as shudder. he takes the sharp edges and the barbs and the distance and listens to it all, patient, allowing jaskier to finish before he nods.
But I don't want nor need to be cornered and interrogated about it, either.
he does not show the way that stings. the way that weight in his chest tightens at you and everyone else ]
Okay. [ he says evenly, not unkindly. it’s still friendly and still polite and sam does not appear at all phased by whatever it jaskier is trying to do. if anything, he looks just as comfortable as he had when he sat down. and then he shrugs, pulling his own mug up for a drink. ] That works.
[ there’s another pause here, where jaskier could interrupt or interject if he wants to. if not, sam will look back to him with a small smile. ]
It’s a good song, you know. I mean- all your songs are good, so that’s not a surprise.
no subject
Then Sam moves. He exhales, the cider warm and sweet. His shoulders become less taut. And finally, he can look back at Sam. His warm eyes. The smile that didn't even waver. It isn't even the first time he thinks, if he'd been there, I might have been okay.
Goddammit. It's so annoying that he's so charming. He's not even trying.]
My apologies, Sam.
[It's his only interjection. He drinks deeply, letting it settle. Not entirely relaxed, but not as eager to bolt at the first sight of escape.] I know. It's very good. [He smiles more with his mouth than his eyes.] Thank you. [It's only a compliment. He knows that. It's only... of course it's a good song. He wrote it. He wrote it in a terrible place.] I didn't realize you were listening.
[It's always a surprise, honestly, when a friend does show up to listen.]
no subject
he does shake his head at the apology, quick to wave it off. he doesn't need to apologize, doesn't need to explain, and doesn't need to talk about it if he doesn't want to - which jaskier has made it very clear he does not (at least right now). so sam adjusts his expectations for the conversation, relaxes his shoulders, tries to lighten whatever it is that started to feel a little sharp between them. ]
I'm usually am more than I'm not. [ listening, he means. it's not said with any intention behind it. rather, sam sounds a bit like he's sharing a secret - something most people don't even really notice. he shrugs, once, his hands curling around his own mug. ] You sound surprised.
no subject
He drops a few coins on the table for the next tender to grab, who goes by their table and simply drops a full pitcher in front of them. It's clear that Jaskier's got the tavern folk trained at this point.
Why not? He has coin. He worked bloody hard for it.]
You and Geralt both. Always hearing much more than everyone would be comfortable with. [Previously, it didn't bother him. Previously, he had never put effort into hiding something. And it was funny, sort of. In a shitty way. He has an entire alternate ego he crafted over a year, and his hand is what he wants to hide.
It's the first time talking doesn't feel like a balm that will help him. It's more like a chore.
He draws his thumb around the lip of his mug. He shouldn't say it. He shouldn't. It's terribly self-indulgent in the worst way. Pitying. But he says it because he's Sam, and since he met Sam he has always been this easy, easy company.] It's been a long time since anyone's cared to check up on me. [He refills the mug, purses his lips, already hates he said it. He doesn't need people to check up on him, either. He was doing well. He was helping. And the more he helped, the closer it felt he was getting to being all right again. To being something more than a brokenhearted bard. Something more than a man who could have done better.
In the end, though, wasn't that the sum of all their failures? The harrowing fact that, indeed, they could have all done better?]
I could go on and on about how I don't need it, as we all could. But who can deny the joy it brings when a friend shares what's important to you?
no subject
his eyes follow the waiter back into the throws of the tavern, if only to let jaskier have a few more moments without sam’s attention directly on him. ]
If it makes you feel any better, I only hear what’s actually said. [ partially a joke about geralt’s super hearing, but also partially an acknowledgement of what jaskier has said. and done. and how sam wouldn’t have anything else to go on.
but in the moments that follow, jaskier hesitates. or perhaps he doesn’t hesitate, but he does lose himself in his thoughts. in this lowered mood. in the heaviness that tugs at him even as sam has tried to come by and take some for himself. that feeling is what keeps sam’s half-joking comments to himself. what has him waiting for a bit more before he speaks.
and he’s glad he did. because jaskier lets slip that little comment and sam…he doesn’t get it, necessarily, but he’s closer to understanding. ] I’m sorry I took so long. [ and it’s genuine, his tone. not overly apologetic or guilty or off. just - simply - sorry. sorry he wasn’t here. sorry it got to this point. sorry that whatever it was jaskier went through had him thinking that no one cared. jaskier doesn’t say it, and maybe it’s not even completely true, but sam has a feeling there’s something under it all that is closer.
sam finally turns back to jaskier, then. first with a glance, and then with a turn of his body. he decides that now is when jaskier does get his full attention, whether or not he wants it. ] So tell me. What brings you joy, right now? What can I do?
no subject
No. What really bothered him was how much Geralt sees. Not with only his eyes. He breaks things down without being told a single clue, if he must. Jaskier must be realistic with himself. Geralt already knows something happened to him.
He won't ask. But he knows.
Jaskier waves his hand, waves the sentiment off.] Don't worry. I never wait for anyone. [That's never what... any of it was about. Waiting. It was about moving forward, deciding there were things better for him. We're better off without him.
Far from true, even now.]
What... brings me joy? [He turns to Sam, raising a brow, his hands stilling.] Are you being serious right now? [He is. That's a serious question.] Unless you wish to give me a mild head injury with those sizable biceps of yours, there's not much you can do, I'm afraid.
[You know, so he could forget the last year. Forget that the Continent is on the brink of shit, forget that... well. He's a sorry sack when things don't go his way.]
no subject
he knows there had been something about a dream. knows that geralt came back one day looking years older (like it was even possible) and that while he looks at jaskier now he has the same weight. the same age. the same...god. whatever it was that happened wasn't good and sam feels a bit like he's failing to keep up. he keeps listening, though, and even with that incredulous look and the half-said comment and the actual something that hangs between his eyes...
sam lets out a breath, downing the rest of his drink (there wasn't all that much left - an idle thing he'd been picking at since they sat down) and turning the rest of the way that he was facing jaskier on this bench they shared, on leg on either side, his shoulders still relaxed, but his brow furrowed. ] I'm not going to knock you out, Jaskier. If even if you wanted me to. [ sam offers something of a wry smile, like it could be a joke, like he's trying to provide any sort of levity to this, when he doesn't really even know what this is. ]
And you said you didn't want to talk about it, so I won't ask. Which leaves me with either distracting you, or keeping you company. [ there's a very slight shift in his tone, here, if jaskier notices. something that evolves from simply a friend to a friend and trying to be helpful. because he is trying, and for all that jaskier might lash out (which he hasn't yet, not really) or push away (only a little bit), sam can be stubborn, if he can decide if that will actually help. ]
Or- [ he continues, that joking tone easing its way back in again. ] You could also tell me to fuck off. And I would. But I really hope you don't.
[ after a moment, sam holds out his hands, palms up with the backs of them on his own thighs. it's an invitation, for jaskier to take, but with very little pressuring involved. if sam were being honest, he hoped jaskier would take his hands, hoped a lot of things might happen in the following, but he remembers the way jaskier had looked caged in. the way he hadn't wanted sam that close.
it feels a bit like stumbling around in the dark, but sam's not afraid, so he waits to see what jaskier will do. watches him, patiently, and prepares to be rejected, if that's going to be the way of this night. ]
Well?
no subject
[The joke comes easily; at least this part of him is the same as before. Before. Before a single night somehow apparently ruined him to the point that Sam gives him these large puppy eyes, as if he's at the brink of doing something terrible and dramatic. No. He simply wants to drink. He simply would rather not remember.
Jaskier is already shaking his head. Wow. Who knew he had so many options?]
No, I don't wish to tell you to fuck off, thank you. I'm not so rude. I don't mind your company, even when you're being a little pushy. [That isn't even laced in sarcasm. He means it. Even if he's miserable and afraid and wants to be alone, he truly doesn't. He never has. Jaskier is simply not like that.
And that is who he is. So he is still the same, in the ways that matter, and though he doesn't offer one hand -- the ones with the burns -- he does place his left hand over Sam's, whether he understands the depth of the gesture or not.] I could never deny anyone so handsome. I'm a simple man at heart.
no subject
he does feel himself smile just a bit at jaskier's words - a little pushy. ]
It's not rude when I'm asking your honest opinion. [ though his smile is still there - even if it's a bit smaller. a bit less bright. he's still figuring out what this is, what this all means, but it's not dissuading him. ] Plus, I could be a lot pushier. A lot. [ but with each passing moment, sam feels like he's getting his footing again. like this could maybe be something they bridge.
he also does notice the hand jaskier doesn't offer. links it back to what jaskier had been staring at, before sam had sat down. they are pieces of a puzzle that is just beginning to come together, but they are starting to form, and sam feels something a bit like confidence form alongside it. his hand curls around the one jaskier does offer, before he pulls it up and presses a kiss to his knuckles. quick. simple. like it was a normal thing they did and do. then sam pulls away, flashes another (now brighter) smile, and reaches for the pitcher - filling them both up. ]
Because I have an idea that might cover both of those. But we'll have to finish this pitcher, first. [ sam reaches over with one hand (the second still holding jaskier's) and sets the now full pull in front of the bard, and then in front of him. ] And then you'll have to come home with me. [ a wink, a smirk, and then sam is picking up his mug and settling back where he's still seated - astride the bench - facing jaskier. he holds it up for a cheers, his smile looking a bit like he's scheming and a bit like he's just lightening the mood. ] If it's true that you really can't deny me.
no subject
[Right, right. He forgot. Somehow. Yes, he does like Sam's company. He's always liked it. It's always brought warm memories with it -- certainly it helps that one of the earliest ones was dancing with him in the sun. The ease of it all. Being taught a new dance. The dip. Very romantic.
And yet he had slid so easily into being Jaskier's friend. As he had as Geralt's, too, which was far more meaningful, really.
He looks over with a hint of unhidden surprise. The gesture is. It's gentle. It's so gentle that his heart forgets to beat once, twice. It is a sort of adoration that has nothing to do with being famous, with saving a life, or with helping a friend. It is... no, more importantly, it is a friend here to help him.]
You are so dangerous, Sam. You're so horribly charming. [Horribly. As if he was not feeling a bit lightened already. Surely the man could work miracles simply by his persistence and the shine of his smile. Ugh. If he were any weaker, he may even find it irritating.
It isn't.]
I can't. [He smiles a hint. A full mug and Sam's warm hand around his can do that.
Come home.
The sunlight, the dancing. The easy flirtations, and the photographed portraits of people he once knew. Is that the home he means?] Deny you, that is.
no subject
Eh- well. You'd be within your right to be rude, then. [ but he says it with a smile, like it's some easily shared joke between them. and he likes what it carries with it - subtle, but present, feeling of jaskier relaxing, bit by bit. the subtle, but present, reminder of what they could be when they weren't in immediate danger, when they weren't trying to piece together bodies or hold together through trauma.
it's a gentle gesture, kissing jaskier's knuckles, but it does as it was intended - it pulls him back to sam, and out of whatever it is spinning behind his eyes. jaskier's comment has sam's smile widening, turning to something closer to one of his grins, bright, friendly, and for right now just jaskier's. ]
I'll take dangerously charming. [ a snark, a flash of a grin, a clink of their mugs, and sam downs his without worry or hesitation. he's still got his hand in jaskier's, still got his fingers curled around him. he wants to scoot closer even still, but he'll hold off for now. even as he sets down the empty mug and laughs, shaking his head. ]
Alright, let's go, babe. Finish your glass.
no subject
Besides. He cannot be rude to handsome men who kiss his hands like this.
Dangerous. Yes, in some ways. And in other ways, far from it. No, Sam does not feel dangerous. Not to him. if anything, it is the opposite. He feels... hopelessly safe.]
Babe? Is that what you're calling me? I'm going to imagine that is a pet name and not you calling me a child. [He takes his full cup and drains it, too. Why not? He's already tipsy. It can't be any worse.
With the pitcher drained and Jaskier's coin dropped on the table, he moves over to bump his hip against Sam's.] I deserve something a little sweeter. Like my feather-fingered lutenist.
no subject
thankfully, now it's just a matter of barking out a laugh - at himself, more than anything. okay, yes, he can see where jaskier got that. plus, he doesn't want to ruin whatever mood he may or may not have finally gotten them into for jaskier to agree to all this. ]
No, oh my god. It's a- you know. Don't worry about it. [ sam's smile is still wide, still lingers, especially as jaskier moves over to bump sam's hip. in turn, he'll press his shoulder back against jaskier as well, leaning in close so that when he pitches his voice deeper, it's only for jaskier. ] My finger-fingered lutenist. [ it's incredibly flirty, and probably crossing whatever line that is supposed to be. away from flirty and into something else. but for right now? sam doesn't really mind it. whether it be the drink or the small moments of ease he can see sneaking through jaskier's expression or a hint, a memory, of dancing in a sunlight field.
whatever it is, sam is pulling back to get up off the bench, stepping out and away from it and with the hand he's still got in jaskier's, tugging him along with him. ]
Is that really what you want to be called?
no subject
[He smiles at Sam, the corners lifting a bit easier now that drink flows thickly through him. He remembers that. He has yet to find the sort of song it can fit into nicely.
Feather-fingered sounds good coming from Sam. He doesn't point out Jaskier was lovable lutenist in the song. Obviously, it's not about him. It is a work of fiction, only resembling persons living or dead purely by coincidence.
Jaskier glances at their hands as he gets to his feet, leaning into Sam so he doesn't fall over from the rush of blood to his head. He can't say how long he's been nursing a drink, and the adrenaline from performing had worn off quite a while ago. He only manages to grab the strap of his lute case, swinging it onto a shoulder. Truthfully, he doesn't much want to look at the thing.]
No. Not really. If I came up with it, the name isn't as fun.
the typo. i just. rip me
but as it happens now, jaskier gets to his feet, leaning into sam as he does so, and sam adjusts to hold him up. it's an easy movement for him to make, to adjust so that he's got a hand around jaskier's waist, holding him up against him to keep him standing, yes, but also perhaps just to keep him close. ]
No, it isn't really. [ sam starts walking them out the door, though it isn't with any actual speed or haste. he's enjoying this, for now. enjoying the easier way jaskier smiles, the easy flirtations they've always shared. sam doesn't worry about any of this when he's with jaskier usually, but even more so tonight. ] Stunning is too easy. Charming. Talented... [ sam's voice is thoughtful, though, as they make it out into the alley and start home. like he's really thinking of this. ] I feel like something along the lines of songbird would work, but I'm sure you have plenty of people already jumping on that. [ admirers, fans, the many people sam's noticed who rotate themselves around jaskier's magnetic personality.
yes, sam is probably going to do something ridiculous and silly like compliment jaskier all the way home, if it appears to have any effect. he's not afraid to do it, either. ]
look I didn't see anything
It's the one thing he misses the most. Even in Oxenfurt, before the mage, he still performed. He was in danger, but he never... he didn't spend his waking moments thinking about that danger, either.
He had purpose.]
Hold on. You can try stunning again. [He doesn't mind hearing it, even if he knows he's far from stunning right now. In looks or personality.] Yes, unfortunately you've been beaten to songbird. However, you do have a leg up on them. I've never given anyone else I know their own bird. It has its own personal touch now.
you're too kind to me
you can try stunning again has sam laughing once, light and easy, as he walks them out of the bar and down the alleyway. they're heading to sam's apartment, unless jaskier says something to the contrary. ]
Yeah, but I don't know if I'd want to share it. Red is more special than that. [ sam makes a show of thinking, with his arm still around jaskier's waist - head tilting back and forth. ]
What about toutterèl? [ sam's voice tilts down with the word, his tone sounding a bit like french, and a bit not. ]
;)
Sam is home. He made sure to establish that when they met in the Horizon. And, ah, thanks to Geralt, Sam's home doesn't exactly have bad memories attached to it. Even recent ones.
Is that Jaskier ducking his head a little, perhaps nearly bashful? Absolutely not. It's only -- it's very used to compliments on his music, his performances, and yes, he knows he deserves them. Even now. But magic is new to him, a talent he has worked on crafting out of literally nothing. To be told a creature he created -- that he created one at all! -- is special --
It would make any sane man's heart flutter.]
Oh. Say that again. That sounded beautiful. [He leans into Sam's shoulder.] What's the meaning of it?
blows a kiss
they're not far, thankfully. only a few more blocks. and the night air, while dry, is just warm enough to be comforting, rather than biting.
sam absolutely sees the way jaskier's head ducks at the compliment, absolutely can tell the near-bashfulness of the movement. it has sam grinning, which in turn becomes a bit sheepish as he feels jaskier lean into his shoulder. ]
I think something like turtle-dove. My nana used to say it, and I can guarantee no one 'round here is speaking Cajun. [ his voice is light, bouncing. almost like laughter and also not quite, but it is easy and it is playful, as he tucks a quick, light kiss to the side of jaskier's head. perhaps his temple, perhaps just the top of his hair. ] So no one else can steal it.
blushes
[That sort of answers about how familiar he is with the term. Turtledove, though. Yes, he likes that. Of course he's found his own affinity with birds now; how well-suited they became to him when his help was needed in Oxenfurt. (Did some part of him recall Abraxas there? Was that why he chose the sandpiper? Did he long to craft one of his birds again?)
He laughs quietly. He feels he's already being taken care of -- and perhaps this is how Sam's nana kissed him, too.] I love it. Then, please, let it stick.
no subject
[ sam is not in the state of mind to give the entire history of Louisiana and the varying degrees of settlers who moved through there. especially not right now, a couple of drinks in and jaskier quite a few more.
and it's good, that jaskier feels taken care of. that's sort of the purpose of all this, at least for sam. and jaskier already seems to be better than he'd been in that tavern. ]
Then it's official. [ another grin, and another laugh, and sam's turning them onto his street. they'll make it to the inn easy enough, and then up to his room. sam directs them both easily enough with his hand on jaskier's waist. ] Toutterèl. You've even got my accent going.
no subject
Turtledove.
It's far too soft. Silly, even, and he laughs.]
I did not realize you had such an accent. It is fascinatingly sexy. [Sam's doing such a good job that Jaskier is more than allowing him to hold up a bit of Jaskier's weight, directing him. He leans in and kisses the edge of Sam's jaw.]
Thank you. You needn't do all this, but... it helps.
no subject
It doesn't come out often, but if I'm gonna get fascinatingly sexy, maybe it should.
[ it's not that difficult to maneuver them up the stairs and to sam's front door, but it's difficult enough that it has sam laughing again. making small comments. when they're finally there and at sam's front door, he loosens his hold on jaskier just enough to stand in front of him - eye to eye - and to let the smile hold as his hands settle on each sid of jaskier's neck.
it helps jaskier says, kissing the corner of sam's jaw. that's all he needs, isn't it? ]
Turns out I want to do all this. [ and then sam is leaning forward, pressing a kiss to jaskier's forehead before setting his own in the exact spot. looking straight ahead to hold jaskier's eyes. ] But I'm glad it's helping.
should we wrap this up soon, handwave a nice night together? c:
And drowning has been it. For days. (A week?)]
You have a strange penchant for wanting to do kind things, don't you? It's almost a bit suspicious.
[It isn't at all. In fact, he's rather sure Sam is one of the kindest people he's met. And perhaps, from Sam's sphere, that is normal. It happens. It does not happen to him, nor to anyone, from the Continent. Not often. Not without something given in exchange.
Jaskier smiles to himself, and it's goofy and curled from drink. He snorts.]
Yes, yes. You're embarrassing me. Now, help me in, or I'm liable to fall asleep at your doorway.
yes!!! they get to have a v nice night of jaskier spoiling. c: