#sorry for being so unspecific with some favourites

[itsascreambaby96]

Hi can youwrite somethingwith an ghostface!Robin Buckley x reader sorry if it's too unspecific

if it is please let my know

Thanks :)

A/N:Honestly I love the idea of Ghostface!Robin! Thank you so much for the request!

Warnings: suggestive, but no full on smut. Fluff.

Pairing: Robin Buckley x reader

I bleed for you

Halloween was your favourite holiday. All of your friends knew that. Your girlfriend, Robin, on the other hand hated it. She hates getting jumpscared, the screams and just everything about it. The only positive thing about it is getting candy for free. But you also got candy on Christmas and Valentine's Day so it didn't really count in her opinion.

Nevertheless she loved you and she loves seeing you all excited. Ever since October started there was a constant smile on your lips. The vibe of the month just got to you. Though Robin knew for you Halloween started way earlier. It always made her giggle when you tried to explain it to her, as it made zero sense to her.

But Robin listened to your every rambled speech. Her eyes shining with love as she looked at you, your hands gesturing wildly around, your excitement almost getting her in the Halloween spirit too. She was so helplessly in love with you. Robin would do anything for you.

That's why she dragged Steve along last minute, really it was one day before Halloween, and Robin now decided to surprise you and show up at your Halloween party tomorrow in costume. You told her multiple times that she didn't had to dress up, that you totally understood that it wasn't her scene at all. Robin's heart clenched at the memory, how considerate you were in regards of her feelings. But it also just confirmed her in making this decision.

But as it was only a day before Halloween most of the good costumes were gone. Robin groaned as Steve showed her yet another stupid Angel costume. This really wasn't her. She knew what you liked. And those were definitely not it.

"Steve I told you those look stupid!"

"Well who knows maybe they suit you. You haven't tried them on yet." He gave Robin a big grin and started to laugh as Robin threw him a look. She was about to give him a snarky retort, when she saw the perfect costume. She knew your love for horror movies. Especially slasher films. Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream. All those. She knew you absolutely adored them! Why? She had no idea.

"I dunno Robs there is just something about a killer being absolutely obsessed with you that just gets me. You know?" But Robin didn't know. What she did know was that you would absolutely love her if you saw her in that costume.

She pushed Steve aside and took the black robe and the white mask. A fake knife was also part of the costume.

Steve gave her a look, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't ask." Robin bought the costume with a satisfied smile. She couldn't wait to see your face oncw you realise Robin would make one of your fantasies come true.

The next day came and Robin got ready late afternoon. She hadn't yet told you that she was to show up at your party. Fully intending on surprising you. The robe luckily fit her well enough and the mask wasn't unbearable. What she wouldn't do for you. Luckily she had some black boots to go with the outfit. She took the fake knife and went out as she heard Steve's car.

Steve complimented her costume.

"Though I still think the Angel costume would have fit better." He chuckled.

He had his doubts if she could pull it off. But as she looked at him with those big black empty eyes like she actually wanted to kill him, he was convinced.

"What even are you supposed to be?"

"Really? Robin I am Han Solo come on!" he groaned. He had put actual effort into his costume.

Robin snorted. "What you are hoping to find your princess Leia?"

He gave her a wink. The both of them laughing. The drive was fun as always and as they parked they could already see people having a good time.

Your house was decorated on theme. Spider webs, skeletons, spiders, blood, ghosts, anything you could think of that screamed Halloween, was here. But it wasn't cheesy. You actually knew what you were doing. You took this serious.

Steve left Robin as soon as they entered. She was looking around for you as soon as she was inside. She spotted you, greeting Steve, who hugged you and went to the kitchen to get something to drink.

Robin took in your costume.

You wore a pink dress, it was pretty and you looked ever the prom queen, if it weren't for the blood covering you head to toe, even the tiara you wore. She remembered how you told her that you had found the perfect dress months ago. Complementing your curves perfectly. You had refused to show her beforehand and Robin had pouted at it. But it was worth seeing you now.

Covered in blood and you still were the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. Robin licked her lips under the mask. She was about to go over to you but then she got an idea and refrained from greeting you.

She grinned. This night was about to be fun.

You were talking with some of your friends, but you could feel eyes on you. Looking around, you saw who they belonged to. Well not exactly who, as you had no idea who was under that mask, but your breath hitched never the less. Now you were a faithful girlfriend and would never ever cheat on Robin. But seeing a Ghostface here made you giddy in a way that you couldn't explain.

You were certain that Robin was home. You would never pressure her in coming to this sort of thing. You weren't mad at her for it, never could. You respect her too much. You could picture her watching some cheesy movie instead of a horror movie, snuggled up on the couch, occasionally handing candy out to kids. A soft smile graced your lips at the thought. Unbeknownst to you Robin saw. She watched you like a hawk.

You gave the starring Ghostface a polite wave and turned back to your conversation. Still you could feel those dead eyes still watching you. Throwing a glance over your shoulder you saw them still looking at you, twirling a knife in their hand, fidgeting almost. It reminded you a bit of Robin. You smiled again at them and turned around to go meet your other friends.

For the whole night you could feel these eyes on you. Whenever you looked the Ghostface was somewhere near, staring at you. It kinda gave you chills. And you tried to stick close to your friends.

Now nearing the end you haven't seen the white mask in over half an hour. Conviced that they must have left.

As you said goodbye to the last of your friends you closed the door. It was somewhere around 3 in the morning. You were tired as hell but you also knew you had to clean up. With a sigh you started in the kitchen. Deep in thoughts about how strange this one person was being all night, you heard a noise. Jumping slightly you looked into the dark living room. But you saw nothing.

With a sigh you returned to your task at hand. But then another noise made you jump.

"Hello? Is someone there?" You called out. A second later you realised how stupid and cliché that sounded. Is someone there, how stupid could you be? You always groaned when someone in a horror movie said that.

Deciding that it must be a guest who didn't get the call that the party was over now, you went into the living room. Turning on the lights you saw none. Confused you looked around. You went onto the patio and turned on the light there too. Nothing.

From the corner of your eye you saw a reflection in the glass door. Whipping around you saw none there. Blinking you rubbed your eyes.

"I must be fucking tired." You mumbled. Dragging yourself back into the kitchen you froze. There in the middle of the kitchen stood the Ghostface from earlier. He twirled his knife on the counter, waving teasingly at you. You really hoped that this knife was fake.

"The party is over. Please leave."

The figure remained as if not hearing you.

"You need to go!" You said with more urgency. The figure tilted it's head at you before lunging at you. With a panicked scream you darted to the living room. The Ghostface hot on your heals. You threw a pillow at them as some form of self defense. You heard the Ghostface chuckle and you could have sworn you knew that chuckle. But you couldn't think clearly right now, scared for your life.

You made a run for the stairs, hoping to get to your room and lock you in. Safe. That was all you could think about.

You almost made it but the Ghostface caught up to you, you could hear them panting. With a cry of yourself you were pinned against the wall beside your door. A whimper left your throat.

"Please... Please don't kill me." You were actually frighten.

"As if I could ever hurt you." The voice spoke. And that voice! You knew it immediately. Your eyes snapped open and a relieved sigh paired with a cry left your lips. Robin lifted her mask smiling brightly at you.

"Surprise?" She was a bit unsure of your reaction now. She could see how scared you were. But a laugh escaped you. A beautiful laugh and Robin was relieved you weren't mad.

"That truly was something else Robs!"You gave her a kiss, still giggling.

"I didn't think you had it in you! I was actually scared!" You smiled at her.

"Honestly I am surprised myself."

"So what do you think of costume?" Robin asked, doing a little twirl. You eyed her up and down.

"Honestly? You look damn sexy as a killer?"

She gave you a wide grin. "Really?"

You nodded, giving her a wicked grin. "Why don't you show me what's underneath this robe?" Opening the door to your room, you walked in backwards. Still watching Robin and how her cheeks tinted back. The confidence she had seconds before already gone. She followed you into the room like a lost puppy. The two of you screaming for a whole nother reason the rest of the night.

[glassjoe]

I saw your post hihihi, could you write some Aran X reader headcanons? (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠) Like how Aran would act in front of his beloved when he realised he has a crush on them?

hihi ! sorry this took a while, im a slow writer & ive been busy lol

okay so. tried my best. i went with the idea of reader/beloved being someone who works for the wvba but isnt a boxer, left it unspecific.

first few bullets are pre-crush/general hc stuff, then the stuff u actually asked for happens. im still figuring out how i wanna characterise these fucks so if it seems odd or ooc please lmk

aran ryan with a crush | headcanons! gn reader

cw brief mention of alcohol and vomiting. nothing huge, just mentioned in passing but slapped this here anyway. also penultimate bullet point is a bit sexual but again only brief, u can skip over it

Emotions aren't Aran's strong point. Most complex feelings he has are released in the ring--he finds bloody noses and bruised stomachs are far more interesting conversation partners anyway--and the ones that stay rooted deep in his belly are routinely sweat out or lost in the haze of a night on the town. Rinse and repeat ad nauseum. Wallowing in it helps no one, after all.

But sometimes, a feeling in his gut won't get chased away as easily as, say, guilt or grief. A stubborn sort of stabbing, not unlike himself, gets tangled in his belly, too stuck for his stomach acid to burn through when wild nights come back for seconds.

As much as his thick skull in the ring would have you think otherwise, he's not dense. He knows what crushes are, had more than enough in secondary school, and he's not oblivious to it nor the source. He doesn't even know you *that* well--yet--but that's never stopped the heart from wanting.

cont under cut

There's no real "moment" he realises, no build-up, just sitting exhausted after a match well-won, and being now too tired to now fight the butterflies swarming his stomach or stop his eyes from following you as you pass by with a clipboard. He hides his gaze with a swig of water, drinking a bit more aggressively than he needs to and spills half of it, and by the time he recovers you've disappeared. The buzz in his gut doesn't fade, just deflates, and his hand meets his sodden hair with a half-hearted groan. Fuck.

For a while, he tries to shove it down. Where knuckles and bottles don't work, brute force emotional repression just might. "Not ready" to be tossed into dealings of love again, he'll try convince himself. Should that fail it's "Grown men don't have silly little crushes, make a move or get over yourself."

He's not as good at hiding his emotions as he'd have himself think. Just as he can't help a cruel grin in the ring, smiles find their way onto his face before he has a chance to realise he's pleased. What he intends to be a subtle smolder looks more like a hyena after a successful hunt, toothy and wide, with red blood swapped for rosy cheeks. Of course, he then attempts to recoup and snap his head away with an exaggerated frown, leaving you to wonder if he was happy to see you or wants to devour you.

Its embarrassing. He feels like a fawn, unable to properly control himself or function as soon as you step in the room. He swears all he has to do is smell you and his heart spikes not that he'd know what you smell like.

Pre-match, he doesn't want to see you. Or during, really. This suffocating adoration that came from nowhere has choked him enough to messing up in the lowest stake situations--he still gets teased over the time he intended to pass you your drink and full-hand knocked it over in his flushed haste--he doesn't want to risk it coming to bite him when it really matters. He makes a point to not provoke the audience close to staff, at risk of seeing your face--perhaps disappointed, perhaps amused--and throwing his game off.

And in turn, post-match is his favourite time to see you. Though Aran Ryan being calm will happen when pigs fly, the rush of a bout serves well to at least temper his energy a bit. Not as erratic, or bouncy, and a bit more in control of himself. Plus any fuckups can be blamed on muscle fatigue. You dote on him as best you can, he's noticed. Asking if he needs anything, offering to ease the strain rippling under his skin... Another bonus of being all tuckered is his face already being red and sweaty, so he's in no rush to hide flush that creeps up his neck as you fuss over him.

He'll make a show, teasing you for wanting to help, and as subtly as he can try to delve a little deeper, find out more about yourself. Whether you're working his wounds or jotting down on a clipboard, your company is exhilarating. It makes him giggle laugh. The insane cackle of a man has never sounded so nervous.

As he learns about you, as you grow closer and start meeting outside of designated hours, he feels both at ease and more tense. Scared of scaring you off, as he often finds he does, but he still won't dial himself back for your sake. Wants you to see him bear all and like him anyway. So he checks. He does what he wants, does his best to not act too different where it matters, and simply... checks. Waits for your reaction. His intention is to see if he should pursue, so to speak, that you simply enjoy him and his company regardless of his reputation or persona or who he is on a genuine level. As well as if, yeah, he didn't need to yell at that guy like that, that was just uncalled for. He's perhaps not the best judge on that end, though.

Speaking of trying not to act different, well, everyone acts a fool in love. He can certainly try, but an early 20s man in a male-dominated sport? There's at least a few masculinity issues trailing aftet him. He can't help but puff his chest out like a bird of paradise when you compliment him, or flex his arm when you so much as graze it. Simply can't stop himself from saying how he could protect you if you're walking through a forest, or wanting to compare hand sizes, regardless of your size compared to him.

Aran Ryan is still Aran Ryan. While there is an extent of not wanting to scare you off, he's not holding back on the name-calling or insults, no mattet how playful. He may dig too deep into genuinely sensitive areas though. Maybe he's still in denial about this, trying to prove it to himself. Or he's just not that great at boundaries.

He's nearly tripped over his own feet several times. One time you managed to grab his hoodie only to also fall onto his back. Nearly died, he swears. Cushioned your fall quite nicely at least. He'll want to make a lewd joke about it, but gets embarrassed as it leaves his mouth because he gets a mental image so it descends into stuttering and ends up insulting you instead to cover himself. Brilliant work Ryan really making yourself look great.

Aran's a mess of a man. He's all over the place. Stuck between wanting to impress you and staying true to himself unabashedly, and he finds doing both is very difficult. Past lovers compounded that. And as long as his affections remain unrequited or secret, that's not really going to change easily. Maybe its comfort he needs, or just a helping hand. Maybe you should say something...

GOD im so sorry this is SO all over the place i qrote this over several days so my flow wasnt there and i dont wanna put too much effort into thesee. i. need to write down how i charactetise these guys stat so im uh sorry if this is shit. i would have a nicer ending to out a ribbon on but idk how to end bullet point hc stuff so. enjoyyy

AND TY FOR REQUESRTING !!! as much as im bitching this was fun to do !!! and also feel free to send more of these in !! i can do more like this or i can do thise ones that like its a scenario and all the boxers react to it those seem fun

[karanan]

Gaming Meme

Tagged by @starrypawz and @aspyforthethrone, thank you!

Tagging: @bionitelke, @juczerro, @kadaverr, @catpella, @lukeskywalkersbutt, feel free to ignore

1. Favourite game from the last 5 years?

I don’t know whether this refers to games released after 2013, or games I’ve played for the last 5 years. If the former, then it’s Overwatch, if the latter, SWTOR.

2. Most nostalgic game?

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, hands down. Shoutout to Lineage 2 and WoW though, MASSIVE nostalgia goldmines.

3. Game that deserves a sequel?

How about that TimeSplitters 4??

4. Game that deserves a remaster?

Honestly don’t know. Can I submit the entire Mass Effect trilogy for this? Like maybe in 10-20 years when we’ve got cool new technology. Phantasy Star Online could potentially make for an amazing remake.

5. Favourite game series?

Hmm... A few years back I absolutely loved keeping up with everything Mass Effect and Gears of War. Now I don’t really get into a lot of series the same way.

6. Favourite genre?

Probably RPGs, including MMORPGs.

7. Least favourite genre?

Sports stuff.

8. Favourite song from a game?

Oh god oh dear there are SO MANY. I have favourites within games, can’t pick like one overarching fave. So I’m going to submit the entire The Last Remnant soundtrack because I think not a lot of people have heard of it and it’s awesome and should be heard.

9. Favourite character from a game?

Again, I can’t pick a single favourite. There are too many. But for the purpose of not giving a disappointing answer I’ll mention that (female) Commander Shepard was very important to me when I was like 17-20.

10. Favourite ship from a game?

I enjoy a lot of the Bioware romances. Again, picking a favourite is the worst. But some highlights include romancing Kaidan in ME, also Theron in SWTOR. Also whatever’s going on between the Imperial Agent and Hunter because I love me that fucked up shit. Essentially I love OCs x whoever the fuck.

11. Favourite voice actor from a game?

I’m partial to Bertie Carvel, also very impressed by the noises that Fred Tatasciore makes, but honestly there are so many talented people out there and I love them.

12. Favourite cutscene?

There are a lot of cutscenes I’ve loved throughout the years, like the ending in OoT and several emotionally taxing ones in the ME trilogy etc. There are also a lot I enjoy from SWTOR, especially in KotFE and KotET because they stepped up their cinematography and I enjoy that.

13. Favourite boss?

Oh man, hmmMMM... I think the most fun I’ve had was fighting the ludicrously difficult bosses when playing Tales of Symphonia on the hardest difficulty with friends as a kid. In general I love playing on the hardest difficulty and challenging myself through excruciatingly difficult gameplay (which means a lot of dying and swearing and crying as I try again and again), like spending hours and hours beating the hardest boss battles in the Last Remnant because I’m a fucking masochist.

14. First console?

I think it was a good old NES.

15. Current console or consoles?

I have an Xbox 360 that we nowadays only ever use to challenge each other to Peggle duels.

16. Console you want?

A Nintendo Switch. I would love to play the new Zelda and also Mario. Oh and Smash Bros. I grew up on Nintendo, then stopped buying consoles after making the switch from Wii to Xbox 360 many years ago.

17. Place from a game that you’d like to visit?

I’d like to visit a lot of the fantasy environments from the games I’ve played. But I think the most concrete answer I can give is anywhere in Mass Effect because it’s in the future with dope-ass technology and also hot aliens.

18. Place from a game that you’d like to live in?

I guess see above?

19. Ridiculous crossover that would never happen but would be super fun?

SWTOR + Some Dating Sim.

20. Book that would make a good game?

21. Show/Movie that would make a good game?

PACIFIC RIM?? I mean even as a plain-ass smashy action game it’d be fun to stomp around and wrestle huge aliens. Obviously with its own character creator and build-your-Jaeger feature. Build-a-Kaiju and then fight each other? Hell yeah. Imagine if it were an online MMORPG-type thing where you have to team up world-wide and fight real-time waves of Kaiju or they’ll take over parts of the world map. Sort of like PlanetSide 2 but Kaiju vs Humanity instead of a 3-way fight.

22. Games you want to play?

Like I mentioned above, the new Zelda and Mario games. But honestly I’m super terrible at playing new games, I just get so into my current ones that I have no interest in branching out most of the time. Give me a few years to get bored of SWTOR, the Sims, Overwatch and Minecraft and I’ll get back to you.

23. Have you gotten 100% completion in a game?

Oh yes. It’s like a compulsion. It’s even worse if I’m playing a co-op game with my brother because he’s the same and we WILL obsess over 100%ing stuff, probably while on the hardest difficulty because we enjoy suffering.

24. Have you cried over a game?

Are you joking, I’m a huge crybaby, I will cry at every emotional moment given that I’m invested enough. I downright sobbed like a baby and had to put my controller down at a character death right in front of @bionitelke once lmao,

25. What power-up or ability would you want IRL?

Yeah okay having The Force would be pretty awesome. But really any type of magic would rule, especially healing spells.

[justablobfish]

An unusual snowman

Day 12 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

No witchers were harmed in the making of this fic. Everyone’s fine! :3

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

______

This is bad. Very bad. They should never have stopped in this goddamn village. 

When they arrived, it was the middle of the night and - with everyone and their grandmother trying to sell Ciri out to Nilfgaard - they decided to get a room at the inn and smuggle the princess in through the back door unseen. 

Which turned out to be a mistake. Because that way no one could tell them. 

The next morning they woke up and Ciri had vanished without a trace.

When they asked around the village they soon found out that she hadn't been the first child to disappear. A few weeks ago children suddenly started disappearing overnight. No one had seen where they had gone to; no amount of locked doors and safety measures could keep them from being taken. 

Jaskier paces up and down in their room, uncertain what to do. 

It's been three days since Geralt set out to find the missing kids, since Geralt ordered him to stay here in case Ciri comes back. 

When Geralt took off, he only said he'd be back 'soon', unspecific and unhelpful as ever. Surely three days were no longer encompassed by the term 'soon'. Something must have gone wrong. 

And the more time passes, the less likely it becomes that Ciri and the other children will return unharmed. 

Jaskier stops in his tracks and gives a short, determined nod. There's only one thing to do. He has to go after them as well! 

While the children have disappeared without leaving any kind of clue to mortal humans, Geralt must have found some sort of trace, because once Jaskier reaches the edge of the village he can see a clear and straight trail of Geralt's footprints leading into the nearby woods. 

"Dark, gloomy forest. Always a good sign!" Jaskier tries to encourage himself and sets out to get his little family back from the clutches of whatever monster stole them. 

The tracks lead deep into the forest. While at first there are some felled trees, bird houses or the occasional discarded apple core, eventually the signs of nearby civilization become rarer and then disappear altogether. And still Geralt's tracks lead further. 

Jaskier soon falls into a sort of trance, placing one step in front of the other and with his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. 

He almost doesn't notice when Geralt's trail ends. 

Jaskier blinks and Geralt's heavy boot prints are gone, replaced by a variety of far smaller imprints, that criss-cross all over the place. Surprised, he looks up. 

The first thing he registers is a small, crooked hut several feet away. The way it's decorated with pieces of candy and pastry (most of it clearly chewed on) practically screams evil magic trap. 

In front of the hut stands Geralt. 

Actually, no, at more than a glance it turns out it's not Geralt. It has Geralt's pauldrons and it holds Geralt's swords but other than that, it's a snowman. 

Dread spreads in Jaskier’s guts and he quickly jogs around the figure to get a closer look. On the other side, yellow eyes and furrowed eyebrows glare back at him. 

Except the yellow eyes are slices of carrots and the eyebrows are made of twigs. 

"Oh Geralt! What did they do to you?" Jaskier gasps. His knees suddenly feel very weak and he begins to think that following Geralt all by himself might not have been the smartest idea. 

The child of legend, whisked away right from under the nose of a Witcher, said Witcher turned into a snowman and only a humble bard left to save the day. What chance does he stand? What was he thinking? 

Then again, maybe there's something he can do. It always works in the old stories told to children and the weird hut with its candy decor definitely gives off the same kind of vibe as those tales. 

"Here goes nothing," Jaskier mumbles and places his lips on the snowman's mouth. Or, well, on the coals arranged in a frown on the snowman's face. 

And then he waits. 

For a moment. 

For a minute. 

For ten. 

Nothing happens. Seems true love's kiss only works in the stories, after all. 

Which begs the question of what he's supposed to do now. 

What chance does he stand where even a Witcher failed? And yet, what choice does he have? Whoever did this has taken his daughter, his family. He can't exactly just walk away. 

He'd never be able to look Yennefer in the eyes again. 

Hell, he'd never be able to look himself in the eyes again. And he so loves mirrors! 

So Jaskier reaches forward and grabs the steel sword from where it's sticking out of the large ball that makes up the snowman's torso. 

As his fingers close around the grip of the sword his hand brushes against the snow. 

And like a - well, like a snowman left in the sun for too long - it crumbles. 

"No, no, no!" Jaskier screams. "Stop! Don't do that! Please!" 

Before his eyes, the snowman that is his lover falls apart. He can only watch helplessly as the fractured part falls in on itself and slips off the bottom part. The head rolls to the side in an almost human-looking manner, until it falls to the ground as well. Before his eyes, Geralt turns into nothing but a pile of snow. 

The fact that his kiss didn't work he could live with but this? Even if there was a way to undo the spell that turned Geralt into a child's plaything, there's no coming back from this. Geralt is gone, his body destroyed. Jaskier’s best friend, the love of his life, has died. 

"I'm so sorry, Geralt," Jaskier whispers as he sinks to his knees. A dislodged slice of carrot glares at him accusingly. 

Jaskier absentmindedly places the sword he acquired at such a high cost on the ground beside him and wraps his arms around himself. 

"I shall write you the most glorious ballad ever written," he mumbles. "The whole Continent will know of your bravery." 

The words sound hollow, even to his own ears. A song won't bring Geralt back. What he really wants to do is curl up on the snow-covered ground and never get up again. 

But he can't do that. There's still Ciri. And he will get his daughter back, if it's the last thing he does. 

So Jaskier slowly gets up, grabs the sword again and turns towards the hut. The fear that had settled into his bones earlier at the idea that even Geralt couldn't best this sorcerer is gone. Now there's only fury and rage burning inside of him. This villainous toad-spotted miscreant of a mage has taken his family from him. They're going to pay! 

He opens the door and steps inside. 

The hut is bigger on the inside. Of course it is. Jaskier doesn't know why he expected anything different. The foyer itself is wide enough that the hut's exterior would fit into it twice. 

He also shouldn't be so surprised that the inside of the hut is entirely made of ice. Everything from the floor to the windowless walls to the twin set of stairs leading up to a second floor, which the hut definitely wasn't high enough for, looking at it from the outside. The mage is really going heavy on the whole fairy-tale villain aesthetic. 

Flickering candlelight from the huge chandelier overhead reflects off of every surface and makes the whole room seem to move and shift constantly. Jaskier starts feeling nauseous. 

It's hard to tell how many doors there are and which ones are only reflections, so he simply walks towards the large double door underneath the stairwells and heads through it. 

Unlike what he expected, the ice isn't cold to the touch and feels more like normal wood under his fingers. Maybe the ice is just an illusion. 

The room he finds himself in next is an even larger hall, equally made of ice and very clearly once intended as a ballroom. Various sconces illuminate an intricate pattern carved into the wide floor, while once colorful paintings of fancily dressed dancers on the walls are glossed over with the ever-present ice. 

Now, the room seems to serve a different purpose though. The floor is littered with various toys, dolls and plush animals. Chalk drawings cover not only several stacks of paper, but also the long banquet table at the far end of the room. It appears Jaskier is getting closer to the mystery of the missing children. They must have been playing here recently. 

While Jaskier looks around and tries to find any proof that Ciri was here as well, a side door opens and a curious voice asks "Hello?" His presence has been noticed, then. 

He turns around slowly, sword at the ready. 

In the door stands Ciri. 

"Jaskier!" she yells, relief and happiness swinging in her voice. Then she takes off running in his direction, followed by a group of other children. 

Ciri throws herself into his arms and clings to him like a curious kid's tongue to an icicle. Not that Jaskier has any experience with that particular situation. 

"I tried to get back to you but every time I tried to run away I always just ended up in front of the hut again," she whimpers. "It's enchanted or something!" 

"Well isn't that just adorable," comes a sneering voice from the other end of the room, where an elegantly dressed woman has appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Her flawless skin and almost unnaturally symmetrical face mark her as a mage from Aretuza. 

Jaskier wraps his free hand around Ciri and pushes her behind him, while eyeing the sorceress warily. 

Ciri pays him little mind and steps back to his side. 

"Look, Gretel, you got it all wrong!" she tells the woman. "Parents do care about their children. This proves it." 

 "Nonsense!" the sorceress huffs. "My parents abandoned me as soon as money got a little tight. If Aretuza hadn't taken me in, I would have ended up just like my brother and died a horrible death at the hands of the awful witch that built this house!" 

"Then why is Jaskier here, risking his life to get me back?" Ciri counters "And Geralt, too?" 

"That proves nothing!" the mage all but shrieks. "The Witcher came to do his job. He came for the money he was promised. And this one? I bet he doesn't even know you well enough to keep you apart from the other children!" 

With that she raises her hands menacingly and suddenly, instead of Ciri and a dozen or so other kids, Jaskier is surrounded by several perfect copies of the Cintran princess. 

It's his worst nightmare. As if one Child Surprise wasn't already more than enough to handle. 

The Ciris stare at each other in surprise for a moment, before one of them breaks the silence by yelling "I'm the real one!" 

A split-second later Jaskier is surrounded by the gaggle of Ciris, yelling and giggling and trying to convince him that they're the right Ciri. It all seems to be a funny game to them. Jaskier’s head starts to spin from trying to get a good look at even one of them. 

"Stop!" he screams at the top of his lungs. "How am I supposed to pick someone if you keep running around me?" 

The children come to a halt and arrange themselves in a loose circle around him, quiet except for the occasional giggle still breaking through. 

However, only one of them rolls her eyes at Jaskier’s demanding tone. 

Jaskier places his hand on top of the real Ciri's head and glares at the sorceress. 

"See? I told you he couldn't do it! Parents are useless!" she gloats and waves her hand dismissively. The Ciris turn back into the children they were before. 

Only the one Jaskier chose remains the same. 

"Impossible!" Gretel shouts as the smug grin falls from her face. "But that doesn't prove anything! We need another test! How about-" 

With few short strides Jaskier crosses the room, grabs the sorceress by the front of her dress and shoves her against the wall. 

"Enough," he presses out between clenched teeth as he places the sword across her bare throat. "I am done with your games! Undo the spell that keeps the children trapped!" 

"Cute," the witch muses without any sign of fear or worry. "But you do know that I can turn you into a pile of dust with a snap of my fingers, right?" 

"Do I look like I give a damn?" Jaskier growls. "You took my daughter away from me! I don't care what you do to me, I will tear you to pieces if you don't let her go!" 

"Hmm," she replies solemnly. "Interesting. Perhaps I was mistaken in my judgment. There do seem to be some parents who love and protect their children." 

Before Jaskier can further comment on that, the witch is gone. Vanished into thin air, just like how she appeared. He stares at his empty hand in surprise, where he had clutched the fabric of her dress a moment ago. 

There goes his chance to avenge Geralt. The fury that was gnawing at his guts starts to settle. Jaskier holds onto it desperately. He knows that once the anger is gone, only grief will remain. 

At least Ciri is unharmed. Jaskier turns around slowly and faces the group of children, who stare back at him expectantly. 

"She wasn't malicious, you know?" Ciri explains. "Just misguided and lonely. Although she did curse Geralt with a spell that turned him into an inanimate object." 

"I know," Jaskier whispers, barely audible with the lump that has formed in his throat. How can he possibly tell Ciri what happened to Geralt? That her guardian is gone and won't come back? She's lost so many people already in her short life. 

"He's in the room over there," Ciri adds chipperly and takes off. 

"... wait, what?" Jaskier stutters as he scrambles after her, followed by the rest of the children who chatter with one another excitedly. 

Ciri leads him to an adjacent room. It's not nearly as big as the ballroom, but still large enough that it couldn't possibly fit into the little hut he saw from the outside. An enormous feather bed occupies most of the opposite wall, big enough for at least three or four grown people to sleep on, or a dozen or so kidnapped children. 

The rest of the room is taken up by various shelf boards mounted to the walls, filled with dozens upon dozens of porcelain dolls. Their empty eyes seem to stare at him as Ciri leads him further into the room 

"Over there," Ciri declares and points at one particular doll. It doesn't look much different from the other ones, safe for its face. Its mouth is sculpted in the shape of a frown instead of the cheerful smiles of the other ones and its yellow eyes, despite being made of lifeless glass beads, seem to glare back at Jaskier angrily. 

"That's… That's Geralt?" Jaskier asks carefully, not quite ready to allow himself to hope. 

"Of course," Ciri chides. "Who else would it be? Look at the face! I tried to sneak around Gretel's laboratory and look for a way to turn him back, but I couldn't find anything."

"We had lots of fun playing with him while Ciri was away!" a little boy announces happily. Some other children giggle affirmatively. 

"Anyway," Ciri sighs as she gently pats the boy's head and ruffles his hair. She seems to be the oldest kid around. The others appear to be looking up to her. 

"I'm sure if you just kiss him that'll break the spell!" Ciri continues. "And then we can finally get out of here and return these little monsters to their parents." 

"So uhm…," Jaskier mumbles. "Entirely unrelated, totally random and unimportant question, but, uh, what's with that snowman outside the door?" 

"The children built it earlier today," Ciri shrugs. "I told them not to use Geralt's armor, that he'd want it back once he gets uncursed, but I don't think they listened. Why are you asking?"

"No reason!" Jaskier huffs and quickly grabs the doll before Ciri can notice how he's turning bright red. 

She narrows her eyes at him, but he turns his back to her and presses a kiss to the doll's…well, face. It's not exactly big enough for more precision. 

A bright light emits from it and Jaskier has to close his eyes firmly. 

Suddenly, his hands are no longer holding on to the doll but instead are wrapped around a very firm and familiar waist. 

The light slowly dims and flickers out. Jaskier opens his eyes carefully. In front of him stands Geralt of Rivia, unharmed and scowling even more than usual. 

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, my fair lady," Jaskier teases. 

"What?" Geralt grumbles and looks down at himself, taking in the bright pink dress made up of an abundance of ruffles, as well as the intricately woven braid that rests on his shoulder. 

"The fuck?" he concludes. "When the witch cursed me my clothes stayed the same size. Why did the dress grow with me then?" 

"Well, there are children around," Ciri huffs with an annoyed click of her tongue. "Now can we finally get out of here?" 

"I need some pants," Geralt growls. "This is far too impractical. I can't fight the witch like that." 

"Well, the witch is gone," Jaskier shrugs. "And I don't think she'll be coming back." 

"Then what about the enchantment that kept the kids trapped here?" Geralt huffs. 

"Lifted," Ciri explains. "At least she said she would." 

"Oh," Geralt remarks. "Any… other monsters in the area? Some rabid dogs? Anything else?" 

"No, dear," Jaskier answers. "I think all the work is already taken care of. You can relax for once." 

"Riiiight," Geralt mumbles slowly. Then he nods to himself. "Then I guess I'll just keep wearing this for now." 

"Absolutely, love!" Jaskier encourages. "It suits you tremendously." 

"Gross," Ciri comments as Jaskier leans in for a proper kiss with his rescued lover. "Now can we please get out of here, already?"