#Carrie Voorhis

[frankiebow]

2023 Sisters in Crime LA Anthology now available!

Entertainment to Die For, a Sisters in Crime Los Angeles anthology, features 18 suspenseful tales and an introduction by best-selling author Sara Paretsky. I am thrilled to have my contribution, "Destination Wedding," included!

Entertainment to Die For, a Sisters in Crime Los Angeles anthology, features stories by first-time authors and multi-published authors—all are killers (on the page, anyway). I’m looking forward to reading these 18 suspenseful tales and am thrilled to have my contribution, “Destination Wedding,” included! In “Destination Wedding,” Professor Molly and her best friend, biology professor Dr. Emma…

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Lost scenes/Fics Game!

Thank you for tagging me @valandhirwriter. Im going to copy-paste the rules here:

We all probably have them, those scenes that never made the story, the stories that never went anywhere, all those small and larger bits of love we wrote and still hoard on out hard drives. So now - let's share!

The Rules are simple:

1. Share a piece of fic that you cut out for some reason, or a piece of a fic, that you began and never continued, some lost piece of your writing, be it long or short, prose or verse. Unfinished Art and Illustrations are also welcome.

2. Tag five or more people or about everyone where you are curious for them to share a piece of their writing. Specific questions are welcome, but don't need to be adhered to.

3. Be kind. Let's spread positivity. Show support for your fellow artists and writers. Laughing along is great, mocking is not welcome.

4. Tagging someone back is totally fine, if the person doesn't want to share anything else, or anything at all for that matter, that's fine too.

Mine would be a chapter that I removed from my Emhyr x OC fic A Painting of You. This was before I decided to cut the fic into 3 parts. This chapter would've been a part of Part 2: The Roles We Play. The scene happens after the dissolution of Emhyr and Sarahs' relationship. Morvran Voorhis has a minor part to play here and he reports to Emhyr about his findings (this part was revised in The Roles We Play with Vattier doing the reporting). Read the lost chapter under the cut:

                                               Where Loyalties Lie

Sarah carried a wooden bucket of water towards the southwest part of the gardens, just a few hours after dawn; the wind cold enough to give her goosebumps. It was her job to water the hanging plants decorating the arches that were obviously of elven origins. The climbing vines covered the top half of the arches with its lush foliage and pretty little white flowers. Adjacent to it is a small man-made pond with a fountain in the shape of a miniature tower at its center surrounded by a carpet of white and yellow pansies serves as the central decoration and point of interest.

There were very few guests this early in the morning walking around the imperial gardens. Most were old couples taking in the scenery, admiring the flowers and conversing. They paid Sarah and the other workers in the area no mind.

Sarah lifted a dipper full of water towards one of the hanging plants when she felt something soft brush against her cheek. Startled, she spun around and the water spilled, nearly drenching Morvran Voorhis had he not jumped away in time.

“Easy, milady, it’s just me.”

“Oh General, you startled me” she said, hand against her rapidly beating heart. “Did I get water on you?”

Morvran used his free hand to brush away the few speckles of water off his fine blue-gray travelling coat.

“No harm done. Most will probably think I got caught in a light drizzle”

She noticed he was holding a red rose in his other hand. That was the soft thing that brushed her cheek.

“For you, milady”

Sarah took the rose offered to her. She smiled.

“You should do that more, smiling I mean” he said.

Sarah chuckled, feeling a blush rise. She saw the ragged end of the stem and gave Morvran a scolding look.

“You shouldn’t be cutting flowers from the gardens, even if it’s for good intentions. Especially in this sorry state. The workers carry pruning shears, you know.”

He inclined his head to the right and smiled. “My common sense abandoned me when I saw the rose and thought of you.”

Her face took the same shade as the rose. The general definitely knows his way to a woman’s’ heart, or under their knickers.

Sarah shook her head and changed the subject. “What brings you to this side of the gardens, General? Certainly not to see me.”

He raised his hands in front of him. “Please, call me Morvran. Only my men call me by my military title. And the emperor of course.” He added and shrugged. “I have an audience with the emperor a few hours from now, so I decided to look for the garden trobairitz.”

Apart from the gardeners and the emperor, Morvran also knows her secret role.

Sarah placed the rose inside the bucket in an upright position.

“Haven’t you heard? Concert has been postponed, for the foreseeable future.” she said.

Morvran twisted his lips and exhaled through his nose. “I heard from the visitors about it. Shame, I was hoping to hear you sing while I pass the time until my audience. You are greatly missed, milady.”

Wow, he certainly laying the charm down thick!

“Gen- I mean, Morvran. Just this once, I will grant you an exclusive performance as an apology for the near drowning. And as thanks for being a gentleman.” She added.

Morvran gave her a deep bow. “An imperial officer must also be a gentleman, milady, and I lead by example.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we? The inner courtyard should be available and empty at this time.”

Sarah crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You expect me to sing in my garden gear? Take me to my cottage so I can get my lute and change into something more suitable.”

He grinned.

“Your command is my wish.” Morvran picked the bucket with the rose and offered his arm once more.

Sarah did not refuse.

The inner courtyard was completely empty. Perfect for a concert of one. Morvran sat on the stone bench, leaning back while Sarah sitting adjacent to him strummed her lute.

She had changed into a more casual wear of white long sleeved cotton blouse, dark green trousers and plain brown half boots. She did not dress to impress nor wore any jewelry. And since it was just the two of them, her mask is on the bench beside her.

She chose to play one of her original compositions: about a young girl who followed a hummingbird deep into the forest and finally found a place to call home. The young man was a captivated listener.

“Ow!”

Morvran was out of his seat in a flash and sat beside her.

“What’s wrong, milady? Are you hurt?” he took the lute from her as Sarah inspected her right hand.

She winced. The nail of her forefinger was split in the middle just enough to break the skin. Blood began to trickle slowly down her cuticle.

Morvran took out a white handkerchief from his trouser pocket and folded it over her hand.

“Thank you, Morvran. I think I neglected caring for my nails for so long. I should’ve heeded the aestheticians and wore gloves when gardening.

“I should take you to the physicians-“

Sarah shook her head. “This is a small thing. In less than an hour the bleeding should stop. Thank you. I’ll return to you your handkerchief after washing the bloodstains off.”

“Please keep it milady. I am just relieved that you aren’t in any danger.”

He was still pressing the cloth against her hand.

“Um, I can take it from here”

“Oh, pardon me.”

It was quiet for a while. Morvran picked up the lute and tried his hand on playing, strumming random notes out of the strings.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Gen- I mean, Morvran, what is your audience with the emperor about?”

Morvran looks up and rested a hand on the strings, abruptly cutting the sound. He reached inside the opening of his coat and showed her a corner of what appears to be a several folded papers. Then he tucks them back inside, close to his breast.

“Not exactly an audience, but to deliver information of significant importance to the emperor. I am required to hand them to him personally.”

He looked glum.

“Is there something on your mind?” she asked.

Morvran exhaled and looks at the decorative tree: the centerpiece of the inner courtyard.

“I know of the troubles the emperor has with the Merchants Guild. I’m sure he has mentioned it since you are a member of his council.”

“No, he hasn’t said anything to me about it” she lied, not giving any hint of her involvement. “What does this have to do with you?”

“I am a member; or rather I inherited the membership from my father.” His eyes looked both ways, confirming the privacy of their conversation, and then he leans forward. “I’m afraid the emperor is excluding me from any meetings involving the guild.”

“You are upset that the emperor doesn’t confide in you.”

“I am in the emperor’s service, and I’ve proven my loyalty to him time and time again. Yes, it troubles me that his majesty doesn’t trust me, or my devotion to the empire.”

“Do you trust the emperor, General?”

Morvan looks up and saw she was serious.

“I trust the emperor”

“Then trust that what he is doing is for the good of the empire. When he has need of us, we will be summoned.”

Morvran was quiet, taking in that simple counsel. It was a command he’s familiar with. It came straight from the emperors’ mouth. It revitalized his resolve and dedication. Sarah added.

“He does nothing out on a whim. Decisions are his to dispense, and if it meant excluding us from his confidence, he is doing so to protect the empire and the people.”

“The emperor excluded you as well.”

What is it with Nilfgaardian royalty stating facts instead of asking questions for confirmation? Am I that transparent?

What Morvran said, was the truth. Emhyr still hasn’t summoned her in dealing with the guild, and it was her idea. Or could it be because of their soured relationship that he isn’t seeking her help? She was willing to aid him on a professional level, nothing more.

She gave Morvran a sad smile. “Yes, but he can count on my help when he seeks it.”

Morvran nodded. “Then I shall give him no reason to mistrust me. Thank you for your counsel, Lady Sarah.”

The chamberlain appeared to take Morvran to the emperor’s office. Morvran gave Sarah back her lute and bid her farewell. The chamberlain gave her a nod of acknowledgement which Sarah returned. Both men left the inner courtyard.

Sarah removed the handkerchief and inspected her injury. The bleeding has stopped.

She picks up her lute and mask, puts it on gingerly to avoid aggravating her wound. She looks to the direction of Emhyrs’ office.

Despite our past, you can count on my help, Majesty.

Sarah decided starting that day, she will not avoid him, but she won’t try to attract his attention as well.

If only she could train her heart to be indifferent when he parades his lovers in within her sight.

___________

Moments ago, in Emhyrs’ office

“These are the reports our informants in Oxenfurt gathered about Lady Sarah’s origins, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“My thanks, General Voorhis. I trust you’ve read these and made your conclusion.”

“Yes sire. The information is still inconclusive. We’ve not enough proof to make a conclusion about Lady Sarah’s origins.”

“Damn that Viscount. I swear by Ard Feainn he is getting more and more incompetent with each task. Did you garner anything in these papers?”

“Yes sire. Base on the available intel, there are seventy -eight Sarahs enrolled at the Oxenfurt Academy. The spies are combing through each one of them and so far, none match Lady Sarah’s description. We’ve even included the years she may have studied there.”

“None?”

“Affirmative, sire. But, as I’ve mentioned, the information is still inconclusive.”

“Hmm.”

“If I may ask, Your Imperial Majesty, did Lady Sarah mention anything during her supposed stay in Oxenfurt? A date perhaps, an instructor or a collegue?”

“Sarah mentioned in passing of a Cidarian noble. Remus, I believe his name was. Pass that to Vattier along with my demand that he better show me results before I decide I have enough of him pussyfooting around and hand his job to someone else.”

“A noble for a colleague. If this Remus is a nobility of high station… Oxenfurt separates the high nobility from the general student body. I’ll have the men look into this Cidarian.”

“Very well. Give the orders, general.”

“As you wish! At once!”

________________________________________________________

I taggeth @bittersweetbark, @jawanaka, @traumschwinge, @smehur, @alphagravy and @gauntermetaverse

[limerental]

carry what i need to carry - 7/?

a ciri/everyone fic

this chapter introduces ciri/morvran and ciri/cerys and features ciri continuing to be a perpetual mess with no end in sight

excerpt

Geralt had assured her that Emhyr would not force her to follow his will, that he only wished to talk, but she’d heard all of that before. She could guess what his designs were for her. He had no heir but her, after all. If she was foolish enough to stay in Nilfgaard, she could expect to be married off within the year. “Do you aim to court me, Voorhis?” she asked, and he blinked at her in further surprise. His eyes were icy-blue, the dark kohl at his lids paling them further. “You’re asking an awful lot of irrelevant, personal questions. Isn’t the Emperor waiting?” “Forgive me, my lady,” said Voorhis, ducking his head. “I’ve heard a great deal about you and only wished to know more. Your father speaks of you very highly.” “My father died at sea when I was young,” Ciri said. “I hardly remember him. If he were to have fond memories of his daughter, he’d be remembering a little girl. Do I look like a little girl, Voorhis?" “No, my lady.” “I’ve done some horrible, debauched things that would curl your Emperor's hair. I wonder if he’d speak so highly of me if he knew them? And you, Voorhis, what if I answered you truthfully? Would you regret seeking to know me? I’d think so. No, I know so.” Voorhis averted his gaze, his haughty excitement having wholly deflated. Ciri felt almost bad about it. He’d not been unpleasant to her.

[i2chloe]

Significant Object

By: Chloe Voorhis

This is my digital camera.

Inherited from my mother a few years ago, it has captured some of the most meaningful moments of my high school journey. From documenting my first-ever sleepover with friends to capturing the magic of homecoming dances and late-night karaoke sessions, it’s been there for it all. During my summer trip to Newport, it became my lens to the world, preserving moments with my sister and parents.

My friends often beg me to bring it along to our hangouts, saying it adds an extra layer of charm to our gatherings. To me, it’s more than a camera—it’s a time machine. With a simple press of a button, I can relive those moments as vividly as the day they happened, carrying the warmth of those memories wherever I go. I love being able to preserve those days with my friends and family.

In the future, I hope to collect more cameras with various strengths and settings to explore the photography world.

[bomberqueen17]

yeet

ok i spent too long dithering about this so here it is. Direct sequel to A Genuine Talent, this is what happens when Cantarella gets back to Nilfgaard and goes to find out whether Teofina Voorhis knows anything about the Harlot of Repute novels.

A Matter of Principle, on AO3

I quite forgot whether I was being coy about what Teofina does or does not know. This story is not really coy in any way, LOL.

All my beta readers have at the moment become sidetracked and distracted by life events etc.; it’s usually the case that if there are errors they are my own, but it goes double in this case, as I didn’t get any feedback on this one before posting. As there are some slightly sensitive topics in here, I apologize in advance if I missed something super obvious, as I am wont to do. But I did my best.

“You’re a woman without peer,” Amadis agreed fondly, his broad hand sliding familiarly over Teofina’s bare hip to adjust the way her weight was pressing down against his erection.

“How are you still so beautiful,” Malvina said, sounding almost upset about it.

“It’s a lie, that children ruin you,” Teofina said. “It’s a lie that age ruins you. I was not very pretty when I was your age, darling. Amadis married himself a girl everyone considered unfortunate-looking, let me tell you.”

“No one said that,” Amadis pointed out, but Teofina patted his face absently.

“It was an investment,” Teofina said. “I had to live in this body, and live in this face, and grow into it. Most of it is how you carry yourself anyway. I know, dearie,” and she patted Malvina now, “that you’re very pretty, and you were probably a pretty child too, and you were led to believe your looks would peak when you were twenty and it would all be downhill from there, but they were lying. Men want you too innocent to recognize their bullshit, that’s all, that’s why the ideal is a woman who looks too young to have ever been touched before.”

“I’ve been almost looking forward to losing my looks,” Malvina said, a little forlornly. “Then I could do something else with my life.”

“Darling,” Teofina said, and kissed her. “My sweet! Have you been told that it’s a terrible sin and waste not to use this beauty for fucking?”

“Sort of,” Malvina sighed.

“If you don’t want to fuck, you shouldn’t have to,” Teofina said. “What would you rather do with your life?”

“Oh,” Malvina said, very clearly recollecting herself, “I-- it’s not that I mind. I just. You know.”

[thirstyforred]

I relate to Morvran Voorhis, because I too have crush on Maria Luiza, would bitchslap Roche, like to avoid social encounters by hiding in bushes until i see a familiar face, and I would be totally ok with Ciri punching me.

Oh, and I’m too, unable to say R, despite being in my twenties and having this damned letter in my surname

[seventfics]

Lionhearted

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Talking in your Sleep Relationships: Cirilla/Morvran Voorhis (+ background Emhyr/Geralt) Rating: T  Content Warnings: None Summary: Before her future reign can begin, Cirilla has to commit to the trust exercise that is an arranged marriage. If only her sleep would be peaceful.

Read on AO3

* * *

“...Cirilla?”

Ciri stirs fully awake at a gentle touch over her shoulder. It is a miracle she does not lash out instinctively and break something. Her limbs feel tight, aching by how tense they’d become in sleep. The faint shadows of a nightmare still dance behind her eyes. She hears the clopping of hooves, the horses of the Wild Hunt approaching—the cold blast of winter hits her as if naked in the snow.

Pure imagination. The bedroom is warm-lit by a hearth. It is summer, and she is safe. She is more than safe.

The touch that rose her pulls her back from the lingering vision of doom. She turns to light eyes, pinched in worry.

“Sorry..." She draws the sheets closer, her wild hair a fan over her face. The room is warm, but a chill runs under her skin all the same. "Did I disturb you?”

Morvran studies her. He sits a comfortable distance away from her. The monstrously-large bed makes that easy. “Not really.”

Slowly, her muscles unwind from their tense curl. A minute passes, and she’s tired again. “Don’t let me keep you awake,” she says rolling on her side, and then, almost a whisper, “you know, you can call me Ciri.”

* * *

The final battle is over. It has been for a peaceful few years. And yet, her mind stays restless, ready for the next enemy to come tearing through her life. So far it’s only been arrogant old men with predictable ambitions, which is pitiful compared to the ageless Aen Elle that had chased her through time and space, and the world-ending White Frost waiting at the end of it all. Really, they should step up their game if they want to make her sweat.

Her dreams made of frost and blood do most of the work for them. It's inescapable. Exhausting.

Every time she wakes from snow clogging her lungs, she sees Morvran had stirred awake in the night, and she apologizes with genuine-felt guilt.

Her husband is always polite about it, which is hard for her to accept at first. Experience tells her to expect a confrontation, or a fight about affecting him with her sleeplessness. But Morvran—she discovers quickly into their spousal arrangement—is quiet company, even if sometimes he seems a little on edge himself. A soldier's nervousness lies behind his gaze. The General without a war to fight. At least she’s not the only one struggling with peacetime.

They say that marriage forges a bond between two souls. That is what her father—of all people—tells her on one of their joint-breakfast mornings.

“There is a responsibility there," Emhyr says with enviable composure. "He is the only one’s opinion you must consult and rely on with matters of state.”

Ciri nearly scoffs. “Not even yours then?”

“Not even mine. Do you not trust him?”

She thinks long after that, a little angry with his nonchalance. Of course she doesn't. Of course it's not that easy. Ask any other lady or princess what their marriage gave them and see if any one of them bring up the word trust. Her father is biased. His own marriage had been sown by destiny's hand.

And yet, after the whispers of dark dreams rouse her at night, she does trust Morvran to be near, to remind her with his presence that she is no longer a child running from great and powerful enemies anymore. She is the daughter of the Black Sun. Nothing can touch her now.

Would be nice to sleep well again on her own soon, though.

Emhyr accepts her silence and sips his tea while it is still warm. He doesn't say anything about the dark circles under her eyes, and she doesn't talk about why they're there.

Geralt visits not a day after, the first time after her marriage, and he sure won't let it go unaddressed.

“I'm fine, Geralt. Haven’t slept well is all.”

That is all she's willing to say, not wanting to bother him too much when he'd arrived so happy to greet her. But it’s Geralt. He knows her better than anyone. Better than she knows herself.

"Haven't slept? You know what that does to your clarity of mind. And are you doing anything about it? Is it the mattress? I tell you, they make them too soft in the south. You need a little firmness to stop you when you're tossing..."

His fussing calms her heart. The opposite would be just as true. If he panics, all her own worries neutralize as she remembers how to think straight for him. They are each other's pillars.

So he frets, and she waves him off, feeling a little better by the second.

Tea together in the garden is a relaxing surprise activity with him, although now that he's brought up the topic of modern furniture and poor craftsmanship, Geralt is grouching about how uncomfortable the chairs are.

“They’re meant to keep your spine straight," she says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, and it’s crap. Doesn’t fit all of me.”

“That’s because you’re carrying fifty pounds of armor and steel. You might not want to rest all your weight on it actually.”

Geralt purposely leans back on his chair, the wood giving an alarming creak. “Are you calling me fat?”

She laughs at him so hard the Impera keeping guard from the garden's entrance twitch their heads to them. They act like a sign of joy from her is a terrifying dragon come to burn the palace down.

“I miss that,” Geralt mutters with a fake pout.

“What? My laughter?”

“Your…ease with it. I know being empress is nothing to scoff at." At the mention of her future court, Ciri touches her imperial diadem—both a symbol of her patrimony and a wedding band. Geralt tracks the gesture. The sigh he gives is heavy and long. "I mean, shit, this whole marriage thing attached to it isn’t what either of us planned for."

The metal warms under her rubbing thumb. "None of what's happened in our journey ever has been."

A witcher's path is unpredictable. One lives by the day and learns to adapt to what comes. And she's doing that still. Adapting like a witcheress. Soon, she'll have to start thinking more like an empress.

"The General," Geralt starts, and she refocuses on him and the serious set of his brow. "He’s a good man at least. A little…eccentric I think, but he is one of the better ones in Emhyr’s court.”

Now it's her turn to grumble, “I know. It’s annoying. I wish I could have a reason to hate him but he’s so…ugh, mannerly!”

This time Geralt laughs, and for a moment, Ciri is a witcher’s child in the wilds again, punting her father’s shoulder for a dumb joke he's pulled at her expense.

She stops suddenly when a familiar figure, all shoulders and dark colors to contrast his light hair, comes through the garden gates. 'Speak of the devil' might be a rude thought to have, yet it perfectly encapsulates how luck draws its cards on her this morning.

“Geralt of Rivia!” comes Morvran’s happy voice. “I thought I heard the rumble of bickering servants on the way here. Now I understand what displeased them so.”

“I’m not wearing their black-and-white cotton traps and you can’t make me.”

Ciri blinks between them. It surprises her how well Geralt gets along with him, and how openly joyous Morvran is being about his company—and yes, she would call him joyous even as his face is subtle in expressing it. Breaking courtly address would normally upset her recently-made husband no matter the suspect. And yet Geralt, who does not mean to do it intentionally, receives no such berating speeches on etiquette and formality. Actually, Morvran shakes his hand the northern way of greeting. Maybe he's good at adapting too.

“Of course not, sir witcher," Morvran says with his other hand raised in acquiescence. "There is no dire interrogation to fulfill at this hour.”

"Don't threaten me with a free clean shave again." To her, he offers a parting, “Alright. I've taken up enough of your time, I’m gonna head out.”

Her heart sinks at the cursory goodbye. This is her father in all but blood leaving her secure little bubble once more, to be a witcher without her. She is not a child anymore—he doesn't ruffle her ashen hair, though she dearly wants him to for old time's sake. It would mess up her diadem and the intricate plaiting of the braids behind her head.

She is not a child anymore, and yet she is already melancholy at the quick turn of his back.

"See you later, Geralt." Her words are a promise. We will see each other again.

As he steps into the flower path that winds back to the guards, Morvran calls out, “His imperial majesty is currently in a meeting.”

Geralt stops. He looks, for some reason, abashed. “What? Why are you telling me that?”

“I thought you would be privy to that information." Morvran shrugs in dismissal. "Va faill."  

It's almost funny how fast Geralt stomps out of the garden. As Ciri observes the exchange, all her previous heartache is swept under the rug. There is something she's not picking up. Fortunately it's not all she has to talk about to her present, lingering company.

“It’s weird that you two actually get along.” At her words, Morvran turns to her with open surprise.

“Geralt of Rivia is a genial man," he says, his hands meeting behind his back as is Nilfgaardian custom in public. "I believe anyone would be glad to refresh their acquaintance with him.”

Ciri, who was not raised with said customs and is instead being tutored in them with little success, snorts. Loudly.

“You just like that you can rope him into joining a riding competition on a promise of free food.”

Under all his Nilfgaardian powder, Morvran blushes. She can see it in his ears.

She laughs at him too.

* * *

It’s another night of bad dreams. Her memories have toyed with her enough that now she is witness to futures she cannot control. Geralt alone on the Path, the Empire at war with itself from her negligence, all of her old friends, her family, broken apart and dying as she lives on.

She wakes slowly, not in a startle or a choked breath. Her body aches worse than if she had.

Morvran is already awake beside her, a frown set upon his lips.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Between waking and the dissipating fear of her nightmare, Ciri is caught completely off guard. “I...didn’t, no.”

He doesn't explain any more, choosing to give her space as he's done for previous interrupted nights. Part of her wants to ask more. She wants to hear what she had said—what nightmare had she been speaking into existence. Did he recognize anything? Did he want to ask, but simply refrain out of properness?

Whatever it is she uttered in fever sleep, she lets it go. Talking about it now would be worse, somehow. Like making her nightmares a real, concrete thing.

Sleep still fights her long into the night. It does not come a second time. Which is good, as she opens her eyes to a timely assassination.

The weapon under her pillow slides into her hand not a breath later. She always keeps something sharp and deadly there. Good habit, both her fathers would say, for different reasons.

Before the assassin can strike, Ciri blinks in between time. They are dead where they stand, frozen mid-step, collapsing the very next instant time moves for her.

In the commotion that follows, everyone wakes. The emperor looks as regal and rested as always and Ciri envies that as her hair resembles a rat’s nest, mussed from the fear-sweat of her haunted sleep. At least Morvran is just as unkempt as her. They make quite the competition for most messy bedhead, side by side. And though the hours stretch on, from private meetings to argued suspicions, Morvran looks in his element. Her element.

Put an enemy in front of them and they will beat it down until it’s rid of.

Her mind is driven to this new task. Securing entry points, questioning any guards that had slack. Her edges feels frayed—sticking to Morvran like a shadow as they move from room to room, servant to official, order to action, way past sunrise. Her angry expression turns any worried servant away from asking for her imperial majesty to eat.

The assassin had tried to kill him. And no one seems to be that concerned since her own head is still attached to her shoulders. Not even Morvran.

Things calm down well past noon. They both return tired and dry-eyed to their arranged room.

She touches his sleeve and holds his weary gaze. “If you die I won’t forgive you.”

Morvran nods, like she makes sense. “I would never plan on it. It would upset your father.”

For a second, Ciri doesn’t know which one he means, and that makes her smile stupidly, at its pure truth.

She wipes her grin off before Morvran has a chance to politely appreciate it.

* * *

“You’re antsy.”

Ciri hums, taking a bite of her deviled eggs. “I'm not antsy.”

“You are bending the good fork.”

She stares down at her hand and finds that Emhyr is right and the fork is just a little twisted at the neck.

"I'm sure someone's job is to fix it. Just, call them."

Nothing in her posture or her expression could possibly tell Emhyr what sits heavy in her head, short of him being a mindreader. And yet, somehow, he pieces everything together correctly to ask, “Would it be so terrible for you to like him?”

Ciri sighs, looking up at the ornate chandelier, begging it to crash down on her and get her out of this conversation. Because she already does like Morvran, quite a lot, and it is terrible. She would hate to admit to her father that he is right. He’ll never live it down.

Of course, she doesn't need to say anything at all. Her godsdamned mind-reading father already knows. When did he learn to read her so effortlessly?

...Has he been consulting Geralt?

However it may be, Emhyr clears his throat and straightens his fork on his side of the breakfast table. “Some people," he says as she sulks internally, "are fortunate and marry the one they love. Others find a way to make it work.”

At his following pause, Ciri straightens in her seat to meet his gaze. His silences are always weighty and grave.

“I hope that he is worth the work,” he ends.

Then the moment passes, and he's eating again. Leaving her to contemplate alone what it means that her father, the emperor, might actually want her to be happy with the man who would share her rule once she is officially crowned. It's...it's trusting. It's too much to think about so early in the morning.

Being who she is, however, Ciri returns to the source of her sulk and the many questions it created.

“So, have you spoken with Geralt?”

Emhyr drinks his tea very slowly. “Of course not. Had he anything important to relay to me?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “I'm sure you know he came to visit recently, but you don’t ask me what we talked about?”

“Whatever it is you two get up to does not concern me.”

She hums, sipping her own tea. “It’s funny I guess, I thought you asked of him through Morvran.”

Emhyr sets his cup down, narrowing his eyes in thought. As he studies her, she keeps on sipping her tea until it’s finished. “Just curious,” she adds before parting for the day. Give him something to puzzle over that isn't her.

* * *

'Did you know you talk in your sleep?'

Only two nights of the next seven does she stir awake. Not from bad dreams, exactly. Not from dark memories or anxious fears either. Ciri rubs her face now, frustrated, pulled from sleep again for no apparent reason.

Morvran is awake beside her, as he always is. His face is not pressed with a frown, though. She can't stop thinking on his words so casually spoken the night an assassin tried to take him from her, and settles back onto her enormous pillows.

“...What did I say this time?”

“Oh,” he blinks at her, and it’s sleepy and lazy, not at all very general-like. “Something about a swallow. That you miss it. Did you used to own a bird?”

She closes her eyes briefly, oddly at peace with her sleep talking. He had listened to her secret fears for all these nights, her haunted screams, and made them his own secrets.

If she could trust him to know that, then, it is not so difficult to trust him with the more simple things.

“No. Swallow was the name of my sword. I carried her with me everywhere.”

“Ah. Where is she now?”

“I gave her to Geralt before I came to be here. A witcher’s sword is not something I can wield from a throne.”

He touches his hand to her cheek, the first time he’s breached courtly etiquette with her. It is warm and callused.

“I am confident that sir Geralt keeps Swallow sharp and oiled so that the blade stays strong. I am...sorry,” he says with more awkwardness.

She covers his hand with her own, a little laugh escaping her when he blinks rapidly at her returned touch, like he had not expected it at all. “It's alright. I entrusted her to him.”

Marriage forges a bond between two people.

[oxenfurt-archives]

Essay II

“ Historical hindsight makes it clear that the inefficiency with which Prince Joachim de Wett carried out his command at the Temerian front was not born solely of his ineptitude, but apparently in even greater measure of his ill will. For Prince Joachim was a member of a conspiracy formed by several Nilfgaardian magnates who felt slighted by the emperor's refusal to consider marriage to their daughters. For his part, Emhyr var Emreis at the time sought to consolidate his hold on his newly conquered territories by finding Princess Cirilla, the missing heiress to the throne of Cintra and the granddaughter of Queen Calanthe.

The conspirators plotted to ultimately remove the emperor and place the then-underage Morvran Voorhis on the throne, ruling in his name as a regency council. Despite his extensive spy network, Emhyr var Emreis was aware only that there was a fraction that harbored some resentment toward him, so he decided to send its influential members and troops loyal to them far away from the throne and the capital. He thus assigned Prince Joachim and Duke Ardal aep Dahy to command positions in the ongoing Northern War.

This gambit worked only in part, as the emperor did not consider that both aristocrats hated him so deeply that they were even willing to rick the success of Nilfgaard's military campaign to undermine him. They had hoped that a prolonged dearth of victories would turn the simple folk and the military against the emperor, and that many would support their revolt once they decided to strike. Neither man, however, lived to see his plans come to fruition. Prince Joachim was beheaded for his ineptitude, and Duke Ardal died of a sudden illness just before his army suffered a crushing defeat at Aldersberg. Many believe that this was no common disease, but poison taken by the duke to avoid disgrace and the punishment meted out to traitors. Others whisper that the emperor himself was responsible, preferring, for his own reasons, to avoid revealing aep Dahy's treachery through a public prosecution. "

Fragments of a master's dissertation in the Faculty of History at the Imperial Academy at Castel Graupian

The Witcher Lore (33/∞)

[jenniferberg1950smysteries]

Bouchercon 2020 Anthology California Schemin’ will be available from the publisher, Wildside Press, as well as online booksellers.

Jennifer Berg, “Schemes in the Dark”

David Boop, “Call Before You Die”

Chris Dreith, “Old Soles”

Dixon Hill, “No Postman, No Doorbell”

Kim Keeline, “California Fold’em”

Ellen Clair Lamb, “The Assistant”

Richard Koreto, “The Hollywood Gangster”

Joyce Krieg, “Last Call at the Zanzibar”

Eileen Rendahl, “A Spoonful of Poison”

Christopher Ryan, “Hellhounds Hollywood Demons”

Linda Townsdin, “Re-entry”

Gabriel Valjan, “Elysian Fields”

Carrie Voorhis, “The Fandancer’s First Murder”

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Morvran Voorhis | Stiff

When Morvran returns from a council meeting, you try to have some fun. And well, he simply cannot resist. 

Word count: 1900+ Warnings: Smut, swearing

'So, how was the meeting?' I tried to sound interested, yet the only thing that I was paying attention to was to the crevices on his face. Morvran plopped down on the ground, resting his back against the bed. Putting my book down, I rolled onto my side so I was facing the back of his head. Softly, I ran my hands through his auburn hair. He let out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of my fingers against his scalp. 'Long. Far from effective. We decided to take a little break and should meet again in an hour or so.' I hummed, shifting to sit up. Gently, I started massaging his shoulders, trying to make him a bit comfortable. My thumb grazed his jaw, his neck, down in an attempt to reach his collarbone. Playfully, I bit on his earlobe as I rested my chin upon his shoulder. I could hear his breath hitch in his throat. 'Don't act so fucking stiff all the time, Morvran.' I spoke as I felt his muscles tense underneath my touch. 'Live a little.' I whispered, nuzzling my face into his neck, pressing a kiss underneath his ear. 'You need to unwind every now and then.' I wrapped my arms around him, nuzzling his skin, gently nipping at it. '(Y/n), this behavior is unheard of!' Morvran hissed with a fluster audible in his voice, his hand grabbing a hold of my wrist, squeezing it. 'What, am I not allowed to make you feel good?' I breathed, laughing a bit as I saw his jaw clench. I let myself slip off the bed, moving so I was standing before him, my fingers wrapping around the front of my dress. Slowly but surely I started to undo the laces, not letting my gaze fall from him. His eyes however but anywhere near mine, a bright pink dusting on his cheeks as he tried to look away. '(Y/n), stop that!' I let my corset fall to the floor and let out a deep sigh. 'Much better.' I whispered, continuing to slip out of my dress, completely dismissing the warnings of the general in front of me. He swallowed thickly, biting his lip as I let go off my dress, letting it fall to the floor, pooling around me as I stepped out of it, remaining in nothing but my knickers.

Morvran clearly tried to not let his gaze fall onto me, not even now I approached him, a small smile on my lips. 'Morvran.' I mused, 'Morvran, look at me.' I cupped my own breasts with my hands, pinching my nipples whilst letting out a lewd sound. This caused Morvrans gaze to flicker up to me, making me chuckle. 'That's what I wanted to see.' I let myself sink onto his lap, far from oblivious that there was a large bugle pressing against my behind. Teasingly, I slightly sat up so my chest was in front of his face, perked buds close to his mouth. 'Don't make me force you.' Morvran opened his mouth to say something, but I silenced him by pressing my breasts into his face. I felt him stiffen, hands hesitantly hovering in the air, not sure what to do. 'Just take me, Morvran...' I whispered, taking his hands to lay them on my waist before tangling my fingers in his hair.

Finally, he gave in, mouth wrapping around one of my nipples, sucking on it gently. I let out a sound that made him blush even brighter. His eyes locked onto my face, half lidded whilst his tongue swirled against my hard buds, goosebumps appearing on my skin. His free hand wandered up to cup my cheek, thumb softly grazing against my jaw as he did so. I sighed, smiling as he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and probably the taste that was on my skin. Morvran's fingers caressed my sides, tongue sliding across the areolae, teasing the pert, sore nipples. A light laugh left my throat as he began to hungrily suck on my left breast, squeezing the other tightly. After a minute, he switched sides, making me quiver in anticipation. I clawed his hair, letting out a loud moan, for the sensation became nearly too much to handle.

He pulled back, letting go with a pop, face blushing bright. 'I got a bit carried away.' he murmured, pulling me down for a kiss. Our lips connected for a moment and even though it was brief, it made my stomach flutter. He was the first to pull back, holding my face, tucking a stray hair behind my ear as he let out a sigh. 'You're a beautiful woman, (Y/n).' 'Shut it, you.' I climbed off his lap and gestured him to sit on the bed. He wanted to pull me with him as he did so, but I shook my head, patting the side of the mattress. 'Sit here.' I spoke, starting to remove his pants as he did so. His trousers were difficult to take off, it seemed, with so many armored parts covering his knees and shins. Luckily he decided to help me out, standing up for a short moment to let it slide to the floor. He let out a relieved sigh as I took his cock out of his loincloth, letting it spring free. I smiled at him, rubbing against the slit on the tip to make my hand damp with pre-cum, spreading it over the base to moisten it. He was desperate, a sound escaping him as I locked my lips around the head of his cock, smiling as I started to run my tongue over it softly. '(Y/n)...' Morvran uttered, trying not to buck his hips immediately. I hushed him, pumping my hand up and down a few times to try to feel the vein on his length throb, and I found it. Starting to bob my head up and down, I already felt some of the salty taste of his pleasure in my mouth. However, his orgasm wasn't there yet. I let his length go, sitting up a bit, shuffling a bit closer to the bed. Morvran's hand went up to my hair, stroking it gently as I pressed my breasts against both sides of his cock, making him gasp in realization. I moved up and down, making him buck his hips to create more friction. I smiled, opening my mouth, flicking out my tongue. The tip of his member grazed against it every time he thrust upwards. His moans said enough, that he was close. Very close.

He grunted, cock starting to twitch between my breasts. 'Fuck, (Y/n), I am going to...' It was unlike Morvran to use such language, yet he couldn't help himself. I wrapped my mouth around his length, letting him fuck my face for a few moments before he stilled, bucking his hips one more time as I felt his seed hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed it all, letting go of him gently, smiling as he looked at me with lust blown pupils. His breath was far from steady as he grabbed a hold of my hand, trying to pull me up onto the bed. I did as he asked me, crawling onto the soft duvet, watching as he inhaled deeply, finally coming down from his high. Morvran moved to sit in front of me, fingers spreading my legs apart. I was drenched with excitement, wanting him to go on as quick as possible. I whimpered as he ghosted his touch over my core, prodding the soaked fabric of my panties, taking them off awfully slow. He smiled as he saw how ready for him I was. 'Someone was eager already.' he murmured, fingertip brushing across my folds, gathering some of the essence on it. For a moment, he looked at it shimmer in the light of the candles, bringing his finger to his mouth to nip it off. 'Hm...' I shivered as he looked at me, gaze filled with nothing else than admiration and lust. Softly, he pushed a finger inside of me, my body arching towards him as I felt my walls clamp around the slender digit immediately, making him chuckle. I sure was desperate.

I gasped as he added another finger, beginning to pump them in and out of me. He crawled half over me so his face was near mine, but his hand was still able to move freely between my legs. Pressing a kiss onto my temple, he sped up his thrusts, smirking at my moans. Yet not once did the soft patch on the tip of his thumb brush against my straining clit. 'Morvran...' I mewled, 'Morvran, fuck, please...' 'Courtesy, (Y/n)...' Morvran tutted, pushing a strand of (h/c) behind my ear. Digits wiggling in me, I let out a sound. 'Oh, right there!' A soft kiss was planted in my neck. My hips started to roll into his fingers, desperately wanting to get that sweet release of an orgasm. However, the Nilfgaardian did have different plans. He moved, shifting between my legs, re-positioning his fingers at my entrance. Pushing in, I bit my lip, quivering as he moved them again, in a complete different way this time and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. My toes curled, my stomach clenching tight at the sensation of his fingertips perfectly hitting my g-spot with every thrust. I am going to stain his hand, I thought, and also that damn armor of his. He is still wearing his fucking chestplate with that fucking Nilfgaardian sun on it.

My body trembled in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the moment it had been waiting for. 'Can I cum?' I managed to force out between moans. Morvran chuckled as if I had said something stupid. 'Don't ask such silly questions, (Y/n).' Just now, he gave me the release of leaning down and swiping his tongue against my clit. I felt it twitch with pleasure. He let out a low hum, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud of nerves, pushing me over the edge. I rolled back my head, letting my high crash over me with a cry. His fingers curled, pressing against my g-spot firmly, making it all the more intense. I could feel myself release all of my excitement in a shower of my essence; Morvran seemed amused as he watched me unravel on top of him.

Mere seconds later, I felt the tightening fading, chest rising up and down heavily as I tried to catch my breath. I winced as Morvran removed his fingers, licking them clean. A light laugh escaped my throat, 'That was intense...' I watched as the remains of my juices dribbled down his armor, staining the duvet underneath us. Heaving a sigh, I rolled onto my side, patting the spot next to me. 'Sleep in with me?' The Nilfgaardian smiled, shaking his head. 'Business awaits. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, remember.' I pouted, feeling a pang of disappointment in my chest as I watched him dress himself up again. 'When you return, can we do this again?' He halted in his tracks, turning around to face me. He smiled sweetly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss upon my forehead. For a moment, his hand rested on my naked body whilst he eyed it up and down, an amused glimmer in his eyes. 'Of course, my darling.' With that, I watched him leave room, heaving a sigh as I let myself drift off to a slumber, patiently awaiting his return.

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, March 30

Cover: Tom Hanks and wife Rita Wilson infected with coronavirus

Page 2: Serial womanizer Jamie Foxx was caught on camera partying until 2 a.m. with baby mama Kristin Grannis at a Hollywood club and also found time to flirt with Eddie Murphy’s ex Nicole Murphy

Page 3: Ben Affleck has already met new girlfriend Ana de Armas’ parents during the couple’s recent getaway to her native Cuba 

Page 4: Brad Pitt exploded over ex Angelina Jolie exploiting their daughters’ medical issues to make a political point, Garth Brooks is suddenly slim again but friends fear his 25-year roller-coaster ride of yo-yo dieting has put a killer strain on his heart 

Page 5: Rosie O’Donnell’s drastic weight loss has friends fearing for her health 

Page 6: A judge determined troubled Amanda Bynes should check herself back into psychiatric treatment after meeting with her and her parents and her on-again off-again fiance Paul Michael 

Page 7: Jennifer Aniston shaken by fears for aging dad John Aniston 

Page 8: Reese Witherspoon wants bad-news ex Ryan Phillippe out of her life because of his chaotic love life, Subway sandwich sex fiend Jared Fogle’s former business partner and accused accomplice Russell Taylor has his child pornography conviction overturned and that may pave the way for the pervy ex-pitchman to get a new trial 

Page 9: Kaley Cuoco is finally shacking up with her husband Karl Cook after being married for two years, Tori Spelling is steaming because she’s out of work again and her multimillionaire mom Candy Spelling is leaving every nickel of her fortune to animal charities 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Celine Dion, Carrie Underwood and Jimmy Fallon doing the Fittest of the Fit Challenge, Pierce Brosnan 

Page 11: Only six weeks after the divorce from his fourth wife Elizabeth 89-year-old William Shatner is back in the dating pool, troubled ‘90s star Lark Voorhies was devastated by being excluded from the Saved by the Bell reunion show and pals are worried the cruel rejection may sound the death knell for her career 

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Jennifer Lopez’s daughter Emme joined her on stage at the Super Bowl  and now J.Lo is launching a showbiz career for Emme’s twin Max, The Bachelor is looking for singles over 65 and over who are looking for romance, exes Teresa and Joe Giudice are collaborating on a new project -- a RHONJ spin-off with their four daughters, Dr. Oz wants Kathie Lee Gifford as his co-host 

Page 13: Shania Twain says she owes her budding acting career to her buddy John Travolta, Justin Timberlake and NSYNC bandmate Joey Fatone broke into Alcatraz, Duane “Dog” Chapman’s ex-girlfriend said he’s a rotten dog -- Moon Angell called it quits with Duane last month when she nixed his marriage proposal on the Dr. Oz show and she’s been slamming him on social media ever since 

Page 14: True Crime 

Page 16: Cover Story -- Killer coronavirus attacks America -- experts predict plague could claim a million jobs, wipe out savings and bring panic in the streets 

Page 17: Infected Tom Hanks and wife Rita Wilson fight for their lives, panic and terror in Hollywood 

Page 18: How to save your family from financial ruin by Mark Cuban and Suze Orman 

Page 19: Real Life 

Page 20: Meghan Markle finally put in her place -- diva duchess Meghan and henpecked Prince Harry packed off to royal oblivion 

Page 22: Prince Andrew is caught in an FBI dragnet and may be forced to testify after he refused to cooperate with authorities despite publicly promising that he would, Prince Harry was duped by two Russian comedians who convinced him in a phone call that he was speaking to Swedish climate-change activist Greta Thunberg and her dad and got him to spill his guts about his distance from the rest of the royal family and his disdain for his disgraced uncle Prince Andrew and his belief that President Donald Trump has blood on his hands

Page 23: Regis Philbin has fallen into a dark depression after being snubbed as too hold to host 20th anniversary episodes of his former show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? in favor of Jimmy Kimmel in hopes of luring a younger audience 

Page 24: Health Watch 

Page 28: David Arquette has become Superman sexpot Valerie Perrine’s real-life superhero after completing a documentary about the ailing beauty, Willow Smith -- the 19-year-old daughter of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith -- sought to bring awareness to battling anxiety by locking herself in a display box for 24 hours at Los Angeles’ Museum of Contemporary Art 

Page 29: How to make your own hand sanitizer 

Page 30: America’s dirty clergy revealed 

Page 38: Bradley Cooper has recruited Hollywood pals Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively to play Cupid, Hollywood Hookups -- Chris Rock and Megalyn Echikunwoke split, Faith Jenkins and Kenny Lattimore wed, Kylie Jenner and Travis Scott back together 

Page 42: Red Carpet Stars & Stumbles -- Frieda Pinto 3/4

Page 44: Movie Links -- link James Marsden to Gwyneth Paltrow 

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- the International Jury at the Berlin Film Festival with Jeremy Irons as president 

Page 47: Odd List 

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

A Painting of You (Chapter 23)

The final chapter: Fireworks and Farewells

Emhyr x OC, F/M, Complete Work (finally!) Morvran Voorhis, Mererid, Peter Evertsen, Cinderella-ish, Forbidden Romance, Gardening,(I should put in more tags in the future)

Summary:

Sarah bids farewell and finally breaks this news to Emhyr. He did not take this well and makes an attempt to change her decision.

Notes:

This is the final chapter of A Painting of You. Took me several re-writes and re-reads... and more re-writing. I recommend listening to FF7 Interrupted by Fireworks OST when reading the balcony scene. Helps with feeling the mood of the story. Also the golden dragon firework is inspired by the movie, Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring scene where the biggest firework is actually the dragon! The one Merry and Pippin stole.

The cool night breeze made Sarah’s skin tingle, ruffling her hair. She and Emhyr stood against the curved stone balustrade, waiting for the fireworks to start. Thankfully, the night was clear and stars dotted the sky. Not to be outdone by the stars, the moon shone brightly. A full moon.

The damn moon. Damn beacon! He must never know its existence.

Sarah leaned forward, placing her hands on the balustrades cold marble surface while ferreting how to best convey her departure. The wind carried the voices from the nobles below: Sarah couldn’t make out their conversations but from the sound of their laughter, they were excited and impatient for the fireworks to start.

She glanced at Emhyr with her eyes only. He was looking imperiously at the milling nobles on the garden square. The moonlight painted his skin with an ethereal pale blue light while shadows are formed by the angles of his face, giving the emperor an impressive chiseled appearance. Another detail to take note and- eventually- forget. Another jab to her heart.

Her attention settled on his bandaged hand and saw it was tied rather tight. Who did such a shoddy job? Sarah opened her hands.

“May I?”

“Hm?” Emhyr hesitated briefly before he allowed her to take his hand. Her slightly crimson-colored lips twisted in disapproval as she undid the knot on the back of his hand and unraveled the bandage. There was a bit of blood and a darkish brown tincture- iodine by the smell- staining the cloth. His wound, no bigger than her thumb, thankfully, no longer bled. Sarah left three inches of one end of the bandage dangling before winding the rest, then tied both ends.

“Flex your hand, sire. Make a fist. Does it feel comfortable? Even wounds need to breathe.”

“Thank you, Sarah. It does feel much better. Makes me regret not having you as my personal physician.”

Sarah’s cheeks reddened at the compliment. She took hold of his hand once more for a final inspection of her handiwork and noticed the scar from long ago. Her thumb grazed it, feeling the raised skin. “Amazing” she murmured. “It’s almost gone. Like the wound was never there.”

She did not notice Emhyr’s reaction to her touch- a short ragged breath. Emhyr turned his face away and something else caught his attention.

“Look over there, Sarah. Our tree is glowing.”

Indeed, even at this distance, she could see the ethereal glow of the Brokilon orchids.

Our tree

Another jab. The beacon was so close to being discovered that night. How many more painful reminders can she take?

A heaviness sat on her chest. Sarah, once more, assessed her decision for leaving. Hiding the beacon was the foremost reason. But lately, it was overtaken by an emotion rising when he is present. An emotion she still refuses to call by its true name, making each day a torment: the daydreaming, the pining, the ache in the knowledge that she could never do to him what his lovers could.

The voice of reason spoke within.

 If you are so determined to go through with your plans, then stop pussyfooting around! You are just prolonging your agony!

“Sarah?”

“Huh?”

“What troubles you? Is the celebration not to your liking?”

She forced herself to smile. It felt like having two weights dangling on the corners of her lips. “I haven’t been to a soiree in ages, sire. It is, by far, the best I’ve attended. And thank you…for making my last a night to remember.”

[bard-llama]

Celebrating 400 Fics with Chapter Updates

Gascon’s Price Chapter 2

Fic Summary:

Before Meve had even known who the Strays of Spalla were, they had negotiated a deal with Count Caldwell. Ultimately, Caldwell may have doublecrossed them, but Meve still wanted to know - what had the Strays asked for? What was the price of her people's lives?

Chapter Summary:

Gascon adores Meve and Reynard both. But just because he likes them doesn't mean they understand.

Read on AO3

You and Me and The Baby Makes Three Chapter 5

Fic Summary:

Roche could understand why Moril didn't want the baby she'd been forced to carry. But surely someone has to be willing to take the half-elf baby. It's not like he can raise it!

Chapter Summary:

Iorveth hurries to gather the Scoia'tael before the Battle of Vergen starts.

Read on AO3

Series: The Plan

Building Trust Chapter Chapter 2

Fic Summary:

The first step towards working together is building trust. If Saskia and Iorveth truly want Vernon Roche to be part of their plans, then they have to be the ones to reach out, to offer that first hint of trust.

Chapter Summary:

Iorveth can't stop thinking about the idea of turning Vernon Roche to his side. Surely it's impossible. But he <i>wants</i> to, and that's the truly scary thing.

Read on AO3

Finetuning the Plan Chapter 2

Fic Summary:

Roche has worked with Iorveth and Saskia to make their plan as good as they can get it. But soon it will be time to execute the plan, and there are just a few things Roche is nervous about.

Chapter Summary:

Iorveth and Saskia meet Vernon's mother.

Read on AO3

The Freedom to Say No Chapter 2

Fic Summary:

Ciri has always known that part of her duty involves marriage and producing an heir. She's not delighted by the idea, but it's not unexpected. She just wished she felt like she had a choice.

Chapter Summary:

Geralt asks Ciri about her tentative arranged marriage to Morvran Voorhis.

Read on AO3

Bound for Temeria Chapter 2

Fic Summary:

Queen Meve and her retinue come across a group of common bandits and engage them in battle. Afterwards, they’re surprised to discover that one of their prisoners is actually the infamous Scoia’tael Commander, Iorveth.

Chapter Summary:

Gascon has a brilliant plan to keep Iorveth from escaping. Or at least to make it more difficult for him.

Read on AO3

[megaphonemonday]

How about impromptu karaoke show off? Or lip sync battle for the prompt thing

i'd be inclined

For someone who’d begged and pleaded to get the team out to an honest to God karaoke bar, Dusty Voorhies couldn’t carry a tune if it came in a bucket. Hell, he could barely even pick up a tune. 

Which, unfortunately, was not enough to stop him from belting out some Cher at the top of his lungs. 

“I don’t believe I’m strong enough, no!” he screeched to the raucous cheers of his teammates and the bar in general. 

There really was no accounting for taste. 

Mike shook his head and promised himself that no matter what happened, he wasn’t getting up on that stage.

If only everyone else got the memo.

“So, what’re you singing, captain?” 

Ginny slid into the booth next to him. Maybe it was because the other bench was full up, but Mike liked to think that even if it were empty, she’d still choose to sit next to him. That would be a comforting thought if she weren’t currently looking at him like she actually expected an answer.

He just snorted. 

His pitcher’s face crumpled in confusion, and across the table, Blip took pity on her. 

“Lawson doesn’t karaoke.”

“You guys do this often enough that he’s got a policy for it?”

“We’d do it more often if Dusty got his way.”

Intrigued, Ginny’s gaze darted between Mike and Blip. “How often?”

“At least every month.”

She laughed, bright and nearly loud enough to drown out the Britney Spears track Hinkley and Melky were butchering. Once she got herself back under control, Ginny turned back to Mike.

“So, what’re you singing?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not.”

“Oh, come on,” she wheedled, which probably shouldn’t have been so effective. Mike made the mistake of making eye contact with Blip for support, but his center fielder only looked equal parts amused and worried. If that weren’t his go-to expression whenever he saw Ginny and Mike together, maybe it would’ve packed more punch. “If I have to, you do, too.”

“Not how this works, Baker.”

Ginny’s lips pursed, but she didn’t push it. Not immediately, at least. It wasn’t until she’d gotten through her surprisingly tuneful Whitney Houston homage—she couldn’t hum Katy Perry but the actual Queen of the Night didn’t pose any problems—she didn’t bound off the stage and back to her seat. Which Mike totally hadn’t saved from Sonny’s fat ass. 

Instead, she hung off the mic stand, grinning conspiratorially out at the audience, Padres and locals alike.

“Ladies and gentleman, we’re now in for a treat tonight,” she teased, playing the room like a finely tuned fiddle. “Making what I’m told is his karaoke debut, captain of the Padres, number 36, Mike Lawson!”

The bar broke into applause, none more enthusiastic than the little sneak who’d brought it about. Of course Blip and Javanes and the rest of the guys chivvied him out of the booth, propelled him up to the tiny stage where Ginny stood waiting. Mike dragged his feet, but really, there was no way he was willing to disappoint that eager, ridiculous smile.

Ginny handed off the mic and went to rejoin the audience.

“No, no,” he muttered, slinging an arm around her shoulders even as the first familiar chords began to play. “You got me into this, so you’re staying up here.”

Her arm slipped around his back without any argument. When the words finally appeared on screen, Mike let him get lost in the song he’d heard in every ballpark across the country. By the time it was done, the whole bar had joined in, a rousing chorus echoing back, “So good! So good!” and he could admit that it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done. He just hoped no one got it on video.

Then again, if someone had happened to capture the moment—those three and a half minutes where he’d had Ginny tucked against his side, laughing as she sang about hands, touching hands and the good times seeming good—that wouldn’t be the worst thing, either.

[imaginethewitcher]

Oooommmmggg would you do a request for Morvran Voorhis!? I love him so so so much and find that his character is underrated and unloved. Maybe something of him meeting reader for the first time and he really likes reader. Preferably an elf reader who has no idea who he is, but is quickly taken by him?

Of course I would and I did. It was interesting to write for this request. Enjoy reading!

Living in the poor district of Wyzimproved to be not an easy life, quite the opposite. The countless disturbancesof disagreements between kings have left this quarter in particular damaged. Aperfect place for the unwanted part of the population, namely halflings,dwarves, culprits and elves like you were. The rest of the city was beautifulsome said, but you never got the chance to visit it. It was a dear wish ofyours to experience the shining beauty of the hidden gardens, palaces, villas, taverns,and markets with your very own eyes, if only those sharp eyes wouldn’t hinderyou from achieving this dream. You knew it was foolish to have such a wish, yetit wouldn’t leave your mind.As you left your house the quarterwas quiet. Every door and every window was shut. A rumour spread, the royalcourt would inspect the poor district and no one was keen on seeing theinstance, which carried the responsibility of the shabby condition the districtwas in. Their inspections gave many people hope for a better future andimprovement of the current condition however that was not how the nobilityworked. They would judge the minorities living there for it, but wouldn`tsearch the fault in themselves. They were the ones, which left all of starving,sick and impoverished. You formed a fist by the mere thought of it.You went to the district centre,which wasn’t a flattering sight with its crumbling houses, withered trees and brittlebenches in front of a dry fountain. You were sure it was a beautiful sightonce. This decay seemed like a continuous force, yet you believed it could gainits grace again. If you wouldn’t be able to see the fair quarters of Wyzim, youwanted to see this district bloom again at least.You already heard the trotting soundsof hoofs. As them came nearer you felt an anxiety building up in you. What ifthey won’t listen to you or even ignore you? Their influence and power couldget you in prison, if your tongue slipped one wrong word. You are just an elfin a poor district after all.You noticed the send inspectionconsisted only of small group. Good, a small group is more approachable than I bigone.“Hey!” you cried to get theirattention.Who appeared to be their leader rodetowards you and stopped his horse with a dedicated command, yet in a gentle tone.His clothing showed his rank as an important person in the royal court. Youdidn’t know him. Overall you knew little about politics and their thousands of seemingly‘important’ players in this merciless game, who reigns next. It wasn’timportant to you, what was important to you however, was having a better lifeand these people could be your key to this goal. He was accompanied by twosoldiers, wearing the characteristic black armour with a golden sun on thechest.“It’s seldom, seeing someone in thispart of the city during an inspection and as I’m looking around here you appearto be the only one”, he said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I believe we don’tknow each other. My name is Morvran Voorhis”.He was probably new to this kind ofmetier. You didn’t recognize him nor did he make an expression to be experiencedin this profession and district. He seemed different, kinder than the others.You bowed before him for it was tradition and tradition was important here.“That is correct, my lord. We haven’tmet before. I’m [your name]”, you responded.“Straighten up. I’m sure you didn’tstop us for no reason. So, what is this reason?”, Morvran got off his horse andstood before you. You were surprised. Most others wouldn’t have made the effortto stand right before an elf in a poor district or to even look directly in theface of one.“The poor district is shabby, as youmay have noticed. It needs lots of renovation to regain from all the povertyand bad conditions”, you explained, with no fear, but with confidence. “We needfunds, supplies and resources. We could rebuild this district that way andimprove our condition. Many people don’t have a proper work, because ourpossibility for it is scarce. That way we could give them a better work andmaybe even a solid pay”.He listened attentively to yoursuggestion and laid his hand on his chin, thinking about what you just said.The silence between you appeared endless. When this silence was finally brokenby Morvran you feared the worst.“Your suggestion are brave indeed.The voices of the poor district are barely hearable. For this reason I’m gladyou spoke out about the worries. Most nobility turned away from this problem.It was my plan to renovate this district”.He surprised you more and more.Support from a person with rank was more than unexpected, especially from aninvestigator.“I welcome your help, my lord. Thereare not many good men like you”, you bowed before him out of thankfulness, yetthere was a question bothering you. “Excuse me asking you this. I do not doubtyou good intentions in any way, but I’m still curious. Why do you help us?”.“Wyzim would be able to regain itsold glory this way and I’m certain the majority of aristocrats would appreciatethis part of the city more, when it suits the nilfgaardian aesthetic. Also I’venever met someone like you before. We need more people with the ambition tochange something to the better for a good cause”.“Thank you very much for youranswer, my lord. When will the project begin? Apologize my curiosity, but it isvery important to me”, you bowed again before him.“There is no need to apologize. Iintend to begin as soon as possible, however, I need a representative for thepoor district. I was thinking of you. You seem to be aware of the problems andneeded improvement. You even prepared concepts. A person like you would be anenrichment to planning and executing this project”.You stared at him in astonishment.This would give you access to the beautiful parts of the city and even totaking influence in politics.“Really? Would this be possible?”,you inquired, still in disbelief of the proposition.“It is indeed. No one else wouldsuit this position but a person from this very district”. He held his handbefore you. “Do you agree and are willing to participate in this project?”.“I am”, you shook his hand to sealthe proposition, smiling.“I’m glad to be able to work with sucha capable person like you”, he responded with a smile.“So am I”, you said and couldn’thide slight blush.Finally you would be able to achieveyour dreams and ambitions, and that with a good person like him.

[bomberqueen17]

Sparrow update!!!

i have triumphed and managed to make this be a chapter. This is chapter 9, for real,and last night’s excerpt was chapter 10, so this is before that. Linear time is hard, guys.

happy Friday!!! Chapter 9, on AO3

“I don’t think we’re going to torture you,” Voorhis said mildly. “Your story is borne out by the other evidence. It is likely you’ll be pardoned. It’s not up to me, of course, but my recommendation carries a lot of weight, and that’s going to be my recommendation.”

Brych’s young face twisted briefly, then went slack in relief, and Luliana smiled at him as she left the room.

“Will he be pardoned?” she asked Voorhis.

Voorhis glanced back at the door to see that it was shut. “Yes,” he said. “It will please the Crown Princess. I’ll see it done.”

“Just to please her?” Luliana asked, mildly dismayed. “Not because it’s the right thing to do?”

Voorhis glanced over at her. His eyes were still ice-cold, but there was a weariness softening the edges of his expression a bit. “There’s often not enough impetus to get a thing done just because it’s right,” he said, and he looked exhausted as he said it.