The Geralts (fanon, book, game and Netflix) all get switched around and shenanigans ensue with figuring out why all of the dynamics are so different. I think it would be especially funny if fanon Geralt ended up with show Jaskier and Jaskier is so fucking confused about why Geralt is suddenly so outwardly worried about him all the time
Geralt is dodging the sorcerer's blasts, teeth gritted, knuckles turning white as his grip on his blade tightens. He was doing adequately, until the blast turned towards his lover, Jaskier.
Geralt leapt directly into the blast, that time.
He felt his ears pop with pressure as he was overtaken with an intense nausea, one that made it impossible for him to get back up from where he flung and landed in the dirt.
He no longer felt the grass between his fingers, or the dirt under him, or the sloppy sludge of half-dried blood in his hair.
The pain and tension ends in a snap, like a wire being cut, and he snaps his head up to meet eyes with the sorcerer... But he doesn't see anything. He turns his head around to look for Jaskier, but instead he sees a fat, old, white horse.
What?
"Why are you scowling at Pegasus?"
Geralt snaps his head around again to look at the melodious voice, and finds a man with beautiful long blonde curls, and scruffy facial hair. He wore a frankly ridiculous outfit, and held a lute. It was a bard.
"Geralt.. You look.."
The bard had bright cornflower blue eyes. It's his bard. He knows those eyes anywhere. But the rest of the man... Tall, lithe, mustachioed, blonde... Who...?
"You look a bit too fortunate, my friend. Where have your undereye bags gone?"
"Jaskier?"
"You are much too wide to be my Geralt. Very tall, too. Very big. Big man, you."
"Julian?"
"Not in these parts. I am Buttercup."
The not-jaskier-but-still-jaskier said, taking his feathered cap off and bowing with a flourish.
"And I am to presume you are a Geralt?"
"I'm Geralt."
"But not mine. My Geralt looks nothing like you. You're bigger built, you've got paler hair, your eyes look funny, and you have a healthy complexion."
"...Well my bard has brown hair."
Geralt spends a few days with Buttercup, and learns about "himself". He's still a witcher, he still travels with his bard, he still has his brothers Lambert and Eskel, he still has Roach. He asks the bard if they're still lovers and he hums noncommittally. "We've kissed... Perhaps lain together. But we've not marked any labels. Not yet."
It's in the middle of a nice humorous talk with Buttercup that he hears ringing that drowns out all other noise, including Buttercup's voice. Buttercup crouches down - When did Geralt fall to his knees? - And desperately tries to tell him something. But Geralt can't focus, and the nausea is back, and it all ends so suddenly with another sharp snap.
He's in a brothel. He can see it as soon as he remembers he's alive. When he stands up and takes a gander around, his other senses slowly come back, and sure enough, he can smell it's a brothel, too.
"Can you for once come in here not dripping blood?"
Geralt spins around and sees a man in another ridiculous outfit, clearly a bard, with those same cornflower eyes. Another Jaskier! This one had brown hair as well, a tad darker than his own's, and he kept the scruffy facial hair.
"I'm Geralt."
"I know that, I've not lost my wits."
"Why are we in a brothel?"
"It's a tavern cabaret, Geralt, we've been over this. Though I doubt you remember, seeing as you are clearly some sexy abomination."
"What?"
"You aren't my friend. You're... You're bigger."
"You both say I'm bigger than 'Your Geralts'. Am I really that big?" Geralt can't help but ask, gesturing to the whole of himself.
"You're like seven feet tall!" The not-jaskier replies incredulously.
"All witchers are?"
"Not the ones I've met!" He's met many?
"Buttercup?"
"Dandelion."
"Right. Still a flower."
Once again he stays with the bard a few days, and learns things. Like that Dandelion is a crack at dice, he's used to seeing a geralt with a trim beard, and they are not lovers. "I could never be held down, and besides, you have that sorceress of yours."
Geralt doesn't know which sorceress he's speaking of - Yenn, Triss, someone else? - But before he can ask, the ringing in his ears is back, and he's collapsing again.
He opens his eyes and clambers up to stand and finds himself in the woods. Okay. He can work with this. A further glance around the area proves him to be on a mountainside. Less ideal, but still workable.
Where's the Jaskier of this universe to greet him?
He starts wandering at random to try and find him, sniffing the wind for any hints of Jaskier. it takes a while, but he gets the scent, and begins following it. The closer he gets however, the stronger the smell of salt is.
Tears.
Geralt breaks into a sprint, crashing through the bushes and scaring the daylights out of a man who had previously been sitting on a stump.
"Fuck, Geralt! Don't do that!"
The man before him has short brown hair, and a cleanshaven face, and those same cornflower eyes.
"Jaskier?"
"Yeah yeah, I'm going, Geralt. I'm getting out of your hair."
"No, don't- You're crying. What's wrong?"
"You tell me you regret ever meeting me, and that I'm the cause of every trouble in your life, and you just expect me to walk it off!?"
"I said what!?"
"Why don't you remem...ber... You're not.. You're not-"
"I am Geralt, just not your Geralt. I was hit by a spell, and it took me from My Jaskier. I've already met two other bards, you're actually the first to still use the same name."
This Jaskier stares at him with red puffy eyes, completely stunned.
"...I- I'm sorry, Jaskier. I would never say that to you. Nothing even like the sort. You're so- So precious to me, lark. How could any version of me have spoken to his bard like that?"
"I'm not his anything. He hates me."
"He hates his lover?"
"Lover!? Please! He refuses to even admit we're friends."
"How long have you-"
"Twenty y-"
"I have to take you with me."
"What?"
"I can't leave you here with him!"
"Do you even know how to leave at all, Witcher?"
Hm. No. He guesses he doesn't. It usually just happens.
I am a jaskier kinnie in many ways. I talk so much and say so little, i use humor and drama to hide how vulnerable I am and how low my self worth actually is. I cling onto anyone who gives me the slightest bit of positive attention and once i decide to be someones friend I'm loyal even when it hurts me. I let people treat me bad because I simply cannot be not liked by anyone. music and writing is very dear to me and it makes the world a better place. there are so many things we have in common.
Oh also i, too, saw geralt of rivia for the first time and immediately fell in love with him so hard no backsies
