#mage jaskier

[spilledbutter]

jaskier making a deal with gaunter o'dimm for power to hurt those who've wrong him

jaskier becoming a fire mage and hunting down rience to make him hurt just as much

jaskier having an entire villain arc and geralt being weak with guilt over it

[3twindragons]

Inspired by this

(where jaskier and yennefer are mages)

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[belanekra]

Continuation of my sorceress!Jaskier AU from here or on AO3

“I cannot believe that Tissaia had a child, a child! This whole time, and she never said anything!” Yennefer raged, pacing around the laboratory. Geralt, Triss, Ciri, and Jaskier watched her with varying levels of concern.

“I mean, to be fair to Tissaia,” Jaskier said, “and may I just say that I absolutely despise the fact that the words ‘to be fair to Tissaia’ came out of my mouth, ugh. But to be fair, to her knowledge she did not, in fact, have a child at any point in which she knew you. She thinks I’m dead, remember?”

“Still!” Yennefer shouted, dissolving into angry mutters as she continued to fume.

“...right,” Jaskier said, edging away from the crazy sorceress. “Nice to see that mother dearest continued to inspire unresolved mommy issues well after my passing. Triss, you wanna get in on this?”

“I actually had an excellent relationship with my mother,” Triss said.

“100 points to Triss then!” Jaskier exclaimed, “She continues to be the most well adjusted person in this keep.”

“Coen seems pretty well adjusted,” Ciri chimed in.

“He’s a witcher, darling. They’re contractually prohibited from being well adjusted,” Jaskier said.

“I feel like I should object to that,” Geralt muttered. Every woman in the room turned raised eyebrows to him. Even Yennefer stopped mumbling and pacing to fix him with a disbelieving stare. “...but I won’t.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is can’t actually,” Jaskier said, patting him on the arm. “Unless you’d like us to start talking about your mommy issues.”

“I don’t have - ” Back up went the eyebrows. “Nevermind.”

Yennefer sighed. “I would offer to portal you somewhere else before Tissaia gets here, but I have no faith at all in your ability to not end up captured by our enemies.”

“Hey! … no actually, that’s fair,” Jaskier said. “It’s alright. This family reunion has been a century and a half in coming. I just – Melitele’s tits, this is going to be awkward. What exactly do you even say in this situation? Hi mummy dearest. Sorry I blew up half the experimental magic wing and made you think I’d vaporized myself. I just hated living with you in your stupid school so much I was willing to risk actually vaporizing myself to get away. ”

“Yeah… not that,” Triss said.

“Definitely not that,” Ciri agreed.

“I don’t know, I think it has a certain ring to it,” Yennefer joked.

“It is certainly evocative,” said a wry voice from the doorway.

…

“You, as always, have the absolute, unquestionably worst timing of anyone I’ve ever met,” Jaskier said into the silence that had fallen after Tissaia’s entrance.

“Hello, Julia.”

“Hello, mum.”

[rockmerhys]

Doesn’t matter what reality he’s in. If jaskier is travelling with a Witcher, he WILL flirt with them

[k-laconia-bug1]

Witcher/Fairytail crossover au

(Jaskier Lucy twin brother au)

(Not sure if there would be dragon queen Lucy au in this au)

But Jaskier real name would be Julian lucky Heartfilia and Lucy's is Lucy Lucky Heartfilia

But Jaskier changes his name after the s-class trails to Jaskier he meets Geralt the year it happens

Jaskier got sucked in Anima where the Jaskier of their universe was stillborn aka witcherverse

Witchers medallion can't sense Ethernanos magic

The Celestial Spirit King granted a gift to Heartfilia's with Anna Heartfilia was alive for when theirs twins what ever key they made contract with they would be 2 keys to one Spirit allowing the twins to share golden gate keys

Lucy and Jaskier both know Minor requip magic for their keys

They're known as The Celestial Gaurdains

They both shared an apartment and Jaskier would go into over protective brother mode when Natsu snucked into Lucy's bed

Within a couple of years Jaskier manages to find a Staff that allows him to open Animas

He immediately adopted Wendy as a little sister

Jaskier learned the Lute as a child with Lucy

Geralt reacting to Jaskier summoning spirits

[witchersjaskier]

Jaskier is really a mage, but he doesn’t use his powers too much and is determined to stay human. One day Geralt is having a lot of trouble with some monster and is wounded, so Jaskier decides to step in and kills the creature with his powers. Then he runs up to Geralt to heal him and let’s just say that the cat is out of the bag 🤷‍♀️😅

“You’re determined to go through with this, aren’t you?” she asks one night, her shoulder pressed against his, both of them staring up at the ceiling.

Julian just sighs, closing his eyes and finding her hand to squeeze. “You know I hate it,” he says quietly. “I hate myself sometimes, and it’s...I don’t want to live like this.”

“I don’t understand,” she mutters. “But I don’t have to. You will always do as you want, Julek, I could never stop you.”

He snorts, turning to look at her. She’s as beautiful as always, but colder now. He hates to see what became of her, after the centuries in the game. He’s so close to following that and he hates it.

“I will always come when you call for me, darling, you know that, but I love myself way too much to be lost like that,” Julian snickers.

She just shakes her head. “Where will you go?”

“First Lettenhove, it needs some managing. Then Oxenfurt, I shall become a bard. Then...wherever the road shall take me, my dear.”

“You and your wanderlust,” she mutters.

“Pot, meet kettle,” he fires back. “I know you long for freedom just as much as I do, darling. You love the dirt and nature and bathing in cold streams.”

Julian enjoys her laughter. “And who knows, maybe I will sing about your future student? Destiny is funny like that.”

“Goodnight, Julian,” she says pointedly, putting the candle out.

“Goodnight, Tissaia,” he whispers into the dark.

_____

Even over a century later he doesn’t regret anything. Yes, there were times when he maybe was needed, but Julian doesn’t actually enjoy cleaning everyone else’s messes so he thinks it serves them right.

He loves his life now, as the travelling bard Jaskier.

He has the road and his lute and the beautiful sunsets and terrible sunrises and his brooding Witcher with the heart of gold and his Witcher’s little witch, one he remembers still scared and determined to be beautiful. Destiny really is funny like that.

Jaskier still hates using magic, though he hates himself less. He never tells Geralt about being a mage for one simple reason - he fucking hates that part of himself, is actually ashamed of it and doesn’t want to be associated with it anymore.

He will come when Tissaia calls, as rarely as she does, but he doesn’t use magic at all now. He’s pretty good at playing human and he wants to continue doing it but well, the new monster apparently doesn’t care.

Jaskier can feel the chaos on it, some mutated pet or a mutated deranged sorcerer and Geralt is losing. Badly.

“Geralt!” he screams when the Witcher gets thrown at the rock. Something makes a bad sound and his heartbeat picks up.

“Fuck,” Jaskier whispers, watching as the monster stalks towards his Witcher. “Fuck no.”

He runs and creates a shield in the last minute before the beast jumps at Geralt. Jaskier winces but holds firm, his magic potent and surging under his skin. He bares his teeth at the monster and glances behind him to see Geralt’s crumpled but breathing form. That settles it.

No one hurts his Witcher.

Jaskier lets the shield drop and gather his Chaos, feeling a storm coming, responding to his magic. While Tissaia is all ice and Yennefer all fire, Julian is all lighting, quick and bright and deadly. He looks at the beast and spreads his fingers and lets his Chaos out, wrapping around the monster, energy surging up for a second.

In one bright blast, the monster is gone and the forest is dark again, the storm slowly calming down.

Jaskier turns around with a sigh and freezes when his gaze meets shocked gold eyes. “Well...” he trails off.

“Can I heal you?” Jaskier asks finally, looking at the blood all over Geralt who’s too shocked to do much more than blink and nod.

He drops to his knees next to his Witcher and presses a hand to his side. He’s not the best at healing but the mutations work with him on that one, and in a few minutes Geralt is as good as new.

“Surprise?” Jaskier asks, spreading his arms

“Do you hate Yen because she’s more powerful than you?” is what Geralt actually asks first and Jaskier scowls.

“What? Please, Geralt, have some respect for me. I could ruin empires long before her parents were even born,” he snorts.

Geralt just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Jaskier feels his heart warm up and they just look at each other for a long while, the smell of ozone in the air.

“You have a lot to explain,” Geralt finally says, glancing at the corpse of the monster.

Jaskier shrugs bashfully and drops down into Geralt’s lap, his arms wrapping around his Witcher’s neck. “Later,” he promises.

“Later,” Geralt repeats right against his lips, before kissing him soundly.

[jaskicr]

bamf mage jaskier, anyone? stregobor dying a very very satisfying death (spoiler alert), anyone?

(posting again bc tumblr fucked with my post and tags)

summary:

You are destruction, Jaskier’s mentor tells him. Death and destruction thrum in Jaskier’s core of chaos, his magic bringing nothing but annihilation, and Jaskier hates it.

But music is not destruction. Music is creation, and it sings in Jaskier’s veins. There is nothing quite like the rush of joy and energy whenever music flows through him, and he forgets about the destruction that his chaos is capable of as music fills his soul.

After decades of being a sorcerer, Jaskier finds himself in music, and for the first time, his magic brings life.

—

When Julian is four, he screams so loudly that everything in the room shatters.

When servants rush into the room, followed by the Viscount and Viscountess of Lettenhove, they find a sobbing boy curled up in the middle of the room. Everything is broken, shattered, destroyed, but shards and pieces form a perfect circle around the crying child, who is untouched and unharmed.

From that day, his parents grow wary of him. They keep him at arm’s length, doing everything they can to discipline him, and Julian grows up in a loveless household, weathering cold words and harsh lashes from his parents. He is broken and beaten, his parents desperate to carve him into the perfect noble child, desperate to wipe that one horrific night from their minds.

When Julian is fifteen, a mage comes to collect a debt. Years prior to his birth, the Viscount had begged the mage to save his wife’s life. The mage brought her back from the brink of death, and told them that he would collect payment when the time came.

“Take anything you want,” Julian’s father says, gesturing grandly around his extravagant house. The fist that trembles behind his back is the only thing that reveals his fear, and Julian watches his usually unflappable father looking on anxiously as the mage wanders around the household, inspecting everything with a bored, uninterested expression. 

Julian stands behind his father, back straight, head held high, the perfect picture of a noble son. His back throbs in pain with the lashes he’d endured yesterday for failing to master the technique that his swordmaster had taught him, and his arms ache at the hours of chores that his father had subjected him to. His face is heavy with his mother’s powder, covering up the scars and bruises that his father had inflicted on him over the years.

Julian ignores it all, used to weathering the pain that fills every day of his life, and stands straight and tall. The perfect noble son. 

(A disappointment.)

The mage returns to stand in front of Julian’s father, crossing his arms as he drawls, “There is nothing of value in your household, Viscount. There is nothing here you can give me, unless you give me all your wealth. I saved your beloved, after all.”

Julian’s father goes pale at the thought of losing his wealth, eyes darting around as he implores, “Please, there must be something else I can give you.”

The mage glares. “There is nothing else you can give… oh,” he murmurs as he fixes his eyes on Julian. Julian freezes under the cold scrutiny of the mage’s gaze, fear welling up in his throat.

“Your power…” The mage stalks towards Julian, who takes a shaky step back, composure crumpling. The mage stops his advances, and turns back to Julian’s father, eyes alight. “I will take your son.”

“No,” Julian begs, voice raspy from hours of screaming, but no one hears him, his father and the mage staring at each other. After a few tense moments of silence, his father gives a curt nod.

“Take him,” he orders, waving a dismissive hand. Julian’s father looks at him with steely eyes, not an ounce of regret as he continues, “He’s worthless to us anyway. He’s nothing more than an abomination, a shame to the family.”

“Father -” Julian rasps, but the mage grabs him by his hand and sends his father a deadly smile. “Father, please -”

“Goodbye, Julian,” his father says with finality, and Julian’s scream is swallowed as the mage pulls him through time and space, and his head spins, he can’t feel his body -

He is in Ban Ard, they tell him. He has potential to become a mage, and here, in Ban Ard, they will train him to be one.

Magic, Julian scoffs, looking around the cold, bare room he’s in. As if he has magic.

Then he starts training.

Julian is put into a group with ten other boys, all with the same potential to do magic. Their teacher introduces himself as Waldemar, and he starts them off by sending them to start doing reading on magic.

Growing up, Julian had been forced to read heavy tomes on history and politics and etiquette, horrendously dull books befitting the son of a Viscount. The books on magic are no less heavy, but far more fascinating, and Julian finds himself spending hours and hours poring over the tomes, reading late into the night and finding more and more books to read.

Magic becomes infinitely interesting to him, and Julian can’t wait until they start actually doing magic.

Finally, one day, Waldemar rounds them into a greenhouse, and when he informs them that they will be starting to do practical magic, Julian almost jumps with joy. He watches with unwavering eyes as Waldemar holds a bright yellow buttercup in one hand, and a wilted daisy in another.

“There is a give and a take,” Waldemar says softly, and Julian sucks in a sharp breath as the yellow leaches from the petals of the buttercup. The small flower shrivels up, life draining from it and seemingly pouring into the wilted daisy, which begins to perk up, slowly unfurling as green blooms into its stem and a pure white washes over the petals, framing a sunny centre.

Now that is magic.

link in the reblog bc tumblr hates me:/

[belettewrites]

Some mountains and a dog part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Jaskier was snoring in his ear when he woke up the next morning, and Geralt had never felt more at peace.

No, that was a lie. He felt calm every time he got to enjoy moments like that, every time Jaskier reminded him how much he trusted him by simply falling asleep next to him. Geralt was about to get up and start packing up until he remembered that they had nothing to do – he could stay here and enjoy the moment.

He stayed still approximately thirty seconds before he got too restless and had to get up. He woke Jaskier up by doing so, and smiled as the other man grumbled about needing five more minutes. He would get them – they were in no hurry.

Once everything was packed and they had eaten, they started walking again.

The morning passed slowly. They were simply enjoying the warmth of the day, and the landscapes, which Jaskier had been commenting out loud. It was nice to hear the bard’s every thought about the things they encountered; Geralt couldn’t believe that after all he had gone through, Jaskier could still marvel at the beauty of a flower, at the way a bird sang. Geralt had once listened to him trying to whistle like a warbler.

It was…. nice, Geralt thought, to simply enjoy walking like this. No contracts to fulfill, no obligations; only him, Jaskier and Roach. Life would be simpler if every day looked like this one.

“Geralt,” Jaskier started, and Geralt glanced at him. “I’m hungry, do you think we could stop?”

link to AO3

Geralt hummed, looking around them for a good spot to rest.

“We’ll walk until that tree over there, then we’ll eat the things you packed.”

The tree was a big one, its leaves offering shade. It would protect them from the sun – Geralt, with his pale skin, was not protected from sunburn, as he had discovered. It amused Jaskier to no end, that somehow the mutations that changed his hair didn’t add the bonus of not having to fear the sun. It wasn’t a problem most of the time, since the sun wasn’t as vicious in the plains as it was here, but with no trees to protect him Geralt knew it was only a matter of time before his skin turned pink – he didn’t get mean sunburns, only moderated ones, but he still wanted to avoid it as much as possible.

They walked to the tree a little faster, now motivated by the thought of eating lunch.

“I bought dried apricots before we left the last town, I know you enjoy them, my dear. We’ll eat them for dessert, what do you think?”

Geralt nodded. Jaskier was thoughtful like that, reminding Geralt that sometimes life didn’t have to be only made of pain. Though with Jaskier by his side, it wasn’t a difficult thing to remember.

He loosely tied Roach to the tree, trusting her not to go too far – there was more than enough grass here, and she happily started to eat. He rejoined Jaskier where he was sitting; he was carefully pulling out their provisions from the bag he had stored them in. He handed Geralt a piece of smoked rabbit and passed him the waterskin.

A bee made its way towards them, landed on Jaskier’s knee and then took off again. Geralt looked at it as it flew away.

“It’s not so bad, isn’t it? To simply be here. I’d play a little, but to be frank I like being here and doing nothing.”

Chewing, Geralt didn’t reply. They ate the rest of their meal in silence and then they enjoyed the apricots, Jaskier thoughtfully looking at the meadow in front of them and Geralt looking at Jaskier.

“We could stay here,” Jaskier suggested, “until it isn’t so hot anymore.”

“You’re wearing your cloak,” Geralt replied, just because he knew it would annoy him.

“Ugh, Geralt, you know what I meant.”

He did.

“We could- read,” he tried.

“Read? I’m sorry dear, I haven’t taken any book with m-”

“I have,” Geralt cut him before losing his courage.

Jaskier looked at him, surprise coloring his face. Gods, Geralt loved him.

“I- saw you were reading it before we left Kaer Morhen, and it wasn’t finished, so I thought- I bought another one but the opportunity for you to read didn’t come up until now.”

“I- You- Really?”

“Really,” Geralt smiled, “Let me take it out of the bag, I’ll show you.”

He stood up, and removed his clothes from his bag; he had wrapped the book in an old shirt of his, to protect it from shocks and from the rain, should the leather not suffice.

“Here.”

Jaskier took it almost reverently and opened it to the first page, his cheeks still a bit red from the surprise.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged- You did it! Oh, Geralt, I-”

Geralt smiled at him, and came back to sit close to him. He had made Jaskier happy; he hadn’t known whether he would enjoy it, whether it had been a good idea, but to see Jaskier sitting next to the tree, his hands almost caressing the cover of the book, and looking at Geralt like this-

He had made the right choice. But the bard was still speechless, so he nudged him with his elbow before leaning his head against the trunk of the tree.

“Read to me?” he asked, closing his eyes.

He heard Jaskier moving around, probably trying to find a more comfortable position. Then he felt him leaning against his right side, and he smiled, still not opening his eyes. Jaskier tended to do that – getting close to Geralt whenever he could. He didn’t mean it like Geralt wished he did, but it was alright. Jaskier being here was more than enough, he didn’t care if their relationship was platonic or if it was – or if it was not.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife,” Jaskier started, and Geralt let himself fully relax.

He could hear the smile in Jaskier’s voice as he read on, and here, sitting in the shade of the tree next to the man he loved, Geralt thought that indeed, life wasn’t only made of pain.

***

“Say, Geralt…”

They had set up camp earlier that evening, Geralt not wanting to go on when the night was already falling around them – the mountains were nice, but if he had learned one thing during his life, it was that danger was always lurking and ready to reveal itself when you expected it the least. It wouldn’t have been a problem if he had been traveling alone, but his companion was too precious to risk it.

So settling camp early it was – not that Jaskier would know that Geralt could have gone on; he had started to stop traveling at night when Jaskier first joined him on his travels, first because he thought the bard wouldn’t be able to defend himself against whatever could have attacked them, and then because he didn’t want Jaskier to have to defend himself at all. His hands were made for playing the lute and braiding flowers in Roach’s mane, not for using a sword or his powers against something dangerous. No, that was Geralt’s job, and he was happy to do it if it meant that Jaskier was safe.

Wait, Jaskier had asked him something. He looked at the bard, who was currently lying on his bedroll, face turned towards the stars; Geralt liked to think that Jaskier’s face was illuminated by their light, but it more likely was the fire that was warming them up that was making shadows dance on his cheeks.

Apparently, Jaskier saw on Geralt’s face that he hadn’t heard because he repeated his question slowly, seemingly deliberating about which words to use.

“I said- are you… happy? That we’re here?”

Jaskier bit his lip, an obvious sign of nervousness. Geralt hummed, trying not to think about Jaskier’s mouth.

“Are you?” he asked in return, not to be difficult but because the answer mattered maybe more than his friend would think.

“Am I- You don’t get to do that, I swear, every time I ask something- Yes, you idiot, I am. Now, no getting out of this. Are you?”

If you are happy, then yes, of course I am, Geralt wanted to reply, felt the words burning his tongue as he did his best to hold them back. With you here, how could I not?, he tried to say.

“You’re here, so- yes,” he mumbled, eyes cast on the piece of wood he had been curving. Damn it, he had been so close.

But apparently it was enough, because Jaskier gasped. Geralt absolutely had to look up at that, and here Jaskier was, half-smiling to himself, cheeks red, eyes shining, still lying down but turned towards Geralt.

“Well- I’m glad,” Jaskier said, “I’m glad.”

Silence fell around them - a comfortable silence, one during which thinking about what to say next was not needed because enjoying the other’s presence was enough, a kind of silence that made you want to smile and close your eyes just to be able to enjoy it in its sheerest form. 

Sure, there were things that were breaking it – Geralt could hear an animal running a bit far north from where they were, and of course insects were buzzing around them. It would have been overwhelming, but Geralt had found out long ago that focusing on Jaskier’s breath and heartbeat was enough to drown it all out. The very presence of the man was enough for Geralt to feel – well, good wasn’t a feeling, but Geralt had never really succeeded in naming what he was feeling.

Smiling was easier when Jaskier was with him – because Jaskier made him feel happy. Yes, happy, that was the word, Jaskier had had no idea what he had been asking Geralt. It had been like that even before the mountain – though he hadn’t realized how important Jaskier was until he faced the idea of losing him.

Losing Jaskier had always been what Geralt thought about. First he feared that the man would simply grow bored of him, his new fame requiring him to play in courts, away from the path, away from Geralt; then, when it had appeared that Jaskier wasn’t planning to leave, Geralt had feared the man’s mortality. He could defend Jaskier from monsters and at this point would have died to keep him safe, but Geralt couldn’t fight time itself. So when Jaskier had turned out to be as immortal as Geralt was – well. It meant that if Jaskier wouldn’t grow bored, wouldn’t die of old age, Geralt would lose him to his own incapacity of being able to talk.

Ironically, it had been his capacity of being able to talk that had almost made him lose Jaskier.

Jaskier started humming, effectively dissipating Geralt’s dark thoughts. All of that was in the past, he had apologized – no need to think back about it. Jaskier was here, with him, still the same after all these years spent together.

Geralt, on the other hand, had changed; where Jaskier had only lost his boyish features, Geralt had earned new scars. It might have bothered him if each of those new scars didn’t bring with it the fond memory of Jaskier tending to his wounds, frowning like he did when he was really focused on something. Jaskier was in every part of Geralt’s life – of course he was happy to be here with him.

“Geralt?”

He looked at Jaskier. The bard was sitting now, playing with his hands like he often did when he had nothing to occupy them with. Geralt longed to take these calloused yet soft hands in his, but he stayed where he was. He wasn’t allowed to do that, Jaskier was part of his family but- not like that. Which was fine, as they were already physically close – Jaskier would always sleep snuggled against his back, or steal his ale while leaning against Geralt’s side, and that was enough.

“Do you think- Well, I can’t read right now, not enough light, and the stars are just right here, do you think we could- watch them together?”

That would mean lying down next to Jaskier, so close and yet so far, his hands right there to be held – it would feel like torture.

It would also mean making Jaskier happy.

“Okay,” Geralt finally replied, putting down the thing he had been carving. He was trying to make it look like a cat, because Ciri had mentioned that she loved them, but right now it looked like- well, not a cat. But it was okay, he had all year to progress.

He stood up, checking the fire before sitting next to Jaskier, who beamed at him.

He’s smiling as if I have hung the moon and the stars, Geralt thought before snorting. It would make a great joke, if it didn’t reveal a bit too much about what he was truly feeling.

He carefully lay on his bedroll, making sure not to crush anything worthy – Jaskier had once sulked an entire evening because Geralt had inadvertently crushed a flower. How was he supposed to know that the yellow thing next to Jaskier’s bag was a flower and not a weed? Now Geralt didn’t dare to step on any colorful weed either.

Jaskier sighed, before lying back too. Geralt felt him hesitate, before a head carefully rested on his shoulder. It was nice, and Geralt allowed himself one smile.

“I read a book this winter,” Jaskier started, his voice carefully low, “about the constellations and how people had different names for the same ones.”

“Hmm?”

“Okay, so this one-”

Geralt wanted to close his eyes and listen to Jaskier talk, but he found himself unable to stop looking at the constellations Jaskier was showing him with his right hand. The left one was on top of Geralt’s right arm, as if to prevent him from standing up – as if Geralt would ever willingly go away from him. Silly bard.

They stayed up later than they usually did when they slept outside, Jaskier unable to stop talking about the stars and Geralt unwilling to stop listening to him.

If Jaskier’s hand found Geralt’s at some point, well. It was only because he felt cold. Nothing more to see here.