#asks;Síle

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Forty Three)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Forty Three: Cillian gives his family the news they came to share, with Y/N firmly at his side. [Family dynamics/Anxiety/Fluff]

@lavender-haze-01 @meadowshelby @strangeions @watermeezer @borntodiemp3 @cherrycilly @whatcjdidnext @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

The restaurant that Cillian had booked for dinner on Tuesday evening is more than you'd expected. Low-lit and somewhat romantic inside, it is cosy and welcoming, with the low hum of voices from patrons and the unrushed but attentive staff moving through tables and behind the bar. At the table, the Murphy family greet one another and chat like they've not seen each other in ages, and Cillian is slap bang in the middle of it - he's cheeky and playful with his brother, protective and teasing with his sisters, and all the while he has his right arm around the back of your chair as you sit between him and his mother, and his fingers intermittently dance softly against your shoulder. Despite not driving more than five minutes, you'd taken the travel sickness medication in the hopes that it'd help to negate your nausea throughout dinner - you didn't want the secret out before the announcement was made. Síle and Griff sit opposite you, and pull you into conversation every so often, but you don't feel left out or neglected as you sit back and take in the atmosphere around you. God, Cillian is so at ease and it is a delight to be beside him the whole time.

“So what have you next?” Páidi asks, setting down his fork. He's sitting to Cillian's left but the place is quiet enough that you can hear everything without straining.

Cillian thinks for a second, then answers. “Eh, I've a thing in Galway coming up for UNESCO. Then it's…eh, IFTAs and then I'm away to LA for the Oscars at the start of March.” he reaches his left hand out for his glass on the table before him and sips slowly at his Guinness.

“Fuck,” Páidi laughs, covering his mouth with his hand to hide thenfacr he's taking over a mouthful of food. “Bringing Y/N to America, yeah?”

Cillian nods as he places his glass back down, “That's the plan if work is agreeable, and she's feeling alright.” He smiles. His fingers tap against your arm as he speaks. “You didn't hear back from Amanda yet, no?” He asks.

You shake your head, “Not yet.”

“It'll be warm in LA when you go, so?” Orla asks, sitting towards the end of the table.

Cillian nods his head, “I'd say so.”

Síle laughs, “You'll come back with a tan and your freckles darker than ever.”

Cillian grins, “Looking healthy for once.”

Griff laughs loudly, “Jays, Cill, you do be outta the country more than you're in it.”

Cillian juts his chin and rolls his eyes, “Sure, I know it.” He shakes his head. He turns to look at you and raises his eyebrows. He wants to tell them now. You nod your head slowly, and he draws his arm from behind you as he adjusts himself in the seat. “Here, guys, listen,” he clears his throat nervously. “We didn't just come down for the spin in the car,” he smirks. The table silences. He rests his elbows on the table and his hands fiddle near his face as he takes a breath. You reach for your handbag by your feet, ready to draw out the scan photos. “Eh…” Cillian falters, “We, eh, wanted to come down and, eh, tell you all together. We're…we're expecting a baby.” He drops his arms down, folding them against the edge of the table.

“Ah no way?!” Síle erupts quickly.

At his side, Páidi claps his hand around Cillian's back with a cheerful smile. “Jesus, really? Fecking hell, congrats!”

“Ah, you're not?” Mary exclaims and her eyes are immediately emotional. Sitting at your right side, she wraps her arm around you and pulls you in against her. “Ah, love, that's brilliant! When?” She asks, clearly excited. Beside her, Brendan simply smiles and offers you a wink. Mary releases you as you shift a little.

“July,” you say and with a shaking hand you pull the photos from your bag. You hand one to Mary, then hand another across to Síle and Griff to be passed around the table. Cillian wraps his arm back around the back of your chair, but he quickly moves so that it's around your shoulders. He pulls you towards him and kisses the top of your head. You watch as Mary scans the picture with a soft smile, then gets from her seat. She walks behind your seat and wraps her arms around Cillian's neck from behind and plants a loving kiss against his cheek. Cillian raises his left arm and places his hand on the side of his mother's face.

“I'm so happy for you, love,” she says, giving him another squeeze before she returns to her seat.

“We're youse shocked?” Orla asks, looking between you and Cillian.

“Fairly fucking shocked,” Cillian laughs, “But it's good.”

“Jesus, Cill… I was half expecting an engagement when you called us all together, and I'll admit that someone being sick crossed my mind. This wasn't on the bingo card.” Páidi shakes his head, and nudges his brother.

“Wasn't really on mine either,” Cillian mutters, and while you consider you could take that comment to heart you remind yourself of all the happiness that accompanied this pregnancy so far, and refuse to allow yourself to fall backward.

“And you've been okay?” Síle asks, and reaches over the table to wave her hand for your attention, “Feeling good?”

You wrinkle your nose, “A bit sick, but nothing too extreme. I read horror stories of being in hospital with vomiting, so I think I've gotten off lightly there.”

“Well you can thank Cillian for that - they say it's the man who determines not only the gender, but how well the mother feels throughout.” Síle laughs as both you and Cillian look to one another, sharing the same weirded-out expression. You're not entirely sure you're comfortable discussing Cillian's spermatic contributions with his family beyond anything more than the impending baby, and Cillian seems to be sharing that view!

Griff laughs loudly as he catches your expressions. “Youse look mortified!” He shakes his head. “Sounds good in theory, doesn't it? Telling everyone there's a wee one coming. But sure, eventually, they all think about the fact that it got there how it did! I wonder was it the night we were there and the two of ye were far from quiet.”

Your hands fly up to cover your face and Cillian scoffs a laugh awkwardly. “Oh, Griff!” Síle shakes her head, and beside her Orla laughs loudly.

“Yeah, brother, I'm mortified for you now.” Páidi nudges his elbow against Cillian's side. “Mostly that you thought you could get away with riding while you had visitors!”

“I think we've had enough of that now, thank you all.” Brendan speaks up. “Good Jesus, if nothing else you can rely on these four to bring down the tone!” He shakes his head at his wife. “Listen, it's lovely news. We're very happy for you. Congratulations, both of you.”

“Yeah, absolutely, congratulations.” Orla says soberly, but she's still grinning.

Chat falls to a dull roar as everyone seems to natter amongst themselves. Mary and Brendan fall into conversation, though you can hear them mentioning your names as they talk. You turn your head to Cillian, who is draining his glass with his tongue pressed against the rim, and tilt your head so your temple rests against his shoulder. As he sets the glass down, he reaches his hand out beneath the table and rests it against your thigh. He tilts his head, too, and places his cheek onto your hair. “Y'alright?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah, you?” You ask, wondering how he feels now the moment has passed.

You feel his cheek move on your head and you suspect he's smiling. “Yeah, I am. Lighter... It went well.”

“I told you not to worry, didn't I? They're your family, they love you.” You place your hand over his where it rests against your leg and squeeze your fingers around his. “And when Baby arrives, they're going to be even more positive. Mark my words!”

You feel his body jolt as he chuckles, “Isn't it usually me telling you everything’s gonna be grand? What happened there?!” He jokes. He taps his hand against your thigh, his beloved and gentle ‘that's enough of that now’ signal. “I'm gonna go out for a smoke, I'll be back.” He says as you lift up your head off his shoulder. He stands slowly and takes his coat from the back of his chair. Without a word to anyone else, he wanders away from the table. You watch him as he walks through the restaurant, pulling on his coat on the go, and disappears through the main entrance.

“I thought he was back on the fags,” you turn your head as you hear Brendan tutting. “Didn't I say it Mary? I could smell it off him.”

“Ah, leave him alone. Sure he's a grown man.” Mary shakes her head. “And he doesn't smell of them, not at all.”

“With work, and a bit of…, he just picked it up again.” You defend Cillian gently in his absence. “He's cut down a lot, and he does want to stop again. But he was nervous telling you all today - I think he just needs the stress reliever.”

Mary reaches out and touches your arm, “Don't you be explaining anything, Y/N, love. Take no notice of himself, there. You'd think he'd no vices himself the way he goes on!” She smiles. “And if you say he's going to stop, then I'm sure that he will. Sure that wee baby coming will be all the motivation he needs.” You smile under her loving but nonetheless scrutinising gaze. “We really are delighted for you, you know? We know it hasn't been easy, and it probably isn't easy now with Yvonne getting engaged, but we're so happy to hear your news.” She nods her head with conviction, and you can see her eyes welling up.

“Thank you,” you whisper, finding emotions tightening your own throat. It felt so good to know Cillian really never did have any reason to worry.

You had fallen into bed almost immediately after returning from the meal, as had his parents, and you felt comfortable and relaxed with Cillian's arm wrapped around your hip as you lay, facing one another, but both on the cusp of sleep. Lying beside him in the small double bed, equally happy and a little sad that you'll be going home tomorrow morning, you move your fingers idly against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Your brother and sisters are so funny - and Griff, the big child that he is.” you say, whispered and sleepy. Cillian hums in response, equally as sleepy. “I expected them to tease you, but I think Páidi and bloody Griff wanting to know conception positions is in the beyond.”

Cillian's entire body jumps as he laughs huskily, deep in his throat. “They're gas, but they've no idea when to fuck off.” He mumbles. He sighs through his nose. “Here, will we go for a walk tomorrow before we head home? Drive out near the beach, yeah?” he sniffs and moves his hand resting on your hip up and down against the material of your pyjama bottoms.

“Yeah,” you say with a smile.

“Good,” he hums.

You lie quietly for a moment, closing your tired eyes, but you open then again with a sigh. “You think everyone's reaction was genuine though?” You ask.

“I do,” he grumbles. “Like you said before, when that baby comes they'll love it.” He moves his fingers against you. “Shush now…sleepy time.” He babbles and you can hear the smile pulling his lips and slightly distorting his words. “Now, you keep me awake much longer and I'll need services to put me to sleep. Shhh!”

You shake your head, but it's hard not to smile. “You shush.” You pat your hand against his chest. He shushes you again, but at the same time he pulls your hip towards him gently. Going home is going to be good, but these two days with this ‘version’ of Cillian has been lovely.

[afterhourwriting]

Man, it’s been a while…

….

Here’s a TF2 Fic I made a while ago for Wattpad! :D

-

TL;DR: The reader and Sniper don’t particularly enjoy each other and are locked in a crate by a BLU Soldier. Hijinks and boners ensue. Also, beware of my obsession with commas. This is kind of short for me

─━━━━━━⊱༻ ⚪️ ༺⊰━━━━━━─

“I know you don’t particularly enjoy touching, but I think it’s a little bit too late for that.” Finding yourself locked in a heavy crate that had a sentry on top with a man that smelt like gunpowder, sweat and piss was not what you thought was going to happen today. Your sentence didn’t get a response, all you heard was a simple grumble and the sound of the BLU Soldier celebrating that he captured you.

You tried to adjust as best as you could but- “Sniper, move your fat ass out of the way!” “My fat ass? That’s bloody rich. I can’t move anymore than you can, drongo!” His chest was heavy against yours, his hands carefully placed by your head. Meanwhile, underneath him, your legs were pressed against his waist and your hands were trying to keep the man’s body as far from yours as possible. “Why you of all people? I’d much rather be stuck in here with Scout.”

“Careful what ya wish for, sheila. Now quiet down so I can think.” Sniper grumbled in your ear as his musk filled your senses. The silence was deafening and you could practically hear your heart beating in your head. As claustrophobic as it was, you tried to take your mind off of the situation by thinking of what you might do when you get out. Make some tea? Maybe cook something up to eat? Noodles sound so good right-… what the fuck was pressing into you? You’d reach down and try to feel it out if you weren’t already suspicious and if there was enough room.

Your lips parted to speak, but god knows that even if you asked him you did NOT want to know the answer. “Mick?” “What’s it now?” “Tell me that’s just a pistol in your pocket and not… tell me you just brought in a gun from outside?”

…

THE SILENCE. ISN’T. HELPING.

“MICK! You are so GROSS.” You shouted in disgust, now kicking at his legs as if that’s going to do… anything. It’s the thought that counts though. “Oi! Can’t kick me; ‘s basic human biology. I’m weak! Y’got on bloody tights for Christ’s sakes, what ‘m I supposed to do?!” Mick yelled back, grabbing at your ankles to try and keep you from kicking anymore. “DON’T. BE. DISGUSTING! Get away from me, asshole!”

“WHERE THE HELL AM I GONNA GO?!”

Your commotion was loud, no doubt, and it lightly shook the crate you two were unfortunately locked in. What wasn’t apparent was that you were quickly gathering an audience. “I SWEAR, if they don’t kill us, I’m killing you MYSELF, MUNDY!” “Big. Fucking. Talk! You act like you ain’t never given a man a stiffy!”

A few of the BLU team had surrounded the crate, including Soldier who seemed very proud of himself. He’s got two of the RED team, he’s got intelligence, today was a good day. For him anyways. “Well, they sound friendly, don’t they?” Spy muttered in annoyance, practically plugging his ears as your fight continued on.

─━━━━━━⊱༻ ⚪️ ༺⊰━━━━━━─

A/N: I had fun writing this. Also little “glossary” here for those that didn’t study up on Australian slang that is a totally normal thing to do and can’t make educated guessed (it’s okay, you’re still a wonderful reader)

Drongo: “Idiot” or “Stupid fellow”

Sheila: Coming from the Irish name Síle, which was exclusively used for women, sheila is considered a mild Australian slang insult for “girl” or “woman”

Stiffy is self explanatory, guys. Come on.

[florbelles]

what is your modlist for bg3 ?

hi anon!! this isn't comprehensive bc i have. probably hundreds at this point for all the armor + accessory mods i use but here are the basics for the main girlies. probably doing a lookbook series later with outfit links since there are so many (and will put together a page at some point for convenience), but if there's something specific please ask in the meantime xx

❧ SÍLE (human, body 1)

face (saelwaris) | hair (vessnelle 14), facial hair slot (tav's hairpack 68), horns slot (duchess coronet), bangs (willow tears fringe 2) | hair color (puppy brown) | piercings | signature armor, gown + boots (thigh high replica variant)

❧ NESSA (high elf, body 1)

face (olga) | eyes (eros) | hair (lunar pack), facial hair slot (vessnelle 13), bangs (willow tears fringe 2) | hair color (dark chocolate) | piercings | signature armor & gown

❧ CELEMINA (high elf, body 1)

face (moera) | hair (umberlee b no fringe), extensions (umberlee side braids), bangs (braided bunches fringe) | hair color (light golden blonde) | signature armor & gown

❧ AMARA (human, body 1)

face (olivia) | eyes (chronos) | hair (umberlee de-accessorized), bangs (willow tears fringe 2) | hair color (semi-sweet chocolate) | piercings | signature armor + boots | signature gown + shoes

[silkear3d]

“you’re not coming off as strange at all, i promise. it’s strange, i know. there are all sorts of strange names out there. caoimhe, dearbhla, síle . . . ” calahan could play that game all day. a warmth filled his stomach, the gentle tide of memories washing over him. evenings spent on ireland shores, running through the sand with his brothers. returning home was something he couldn’t begin to consider, but nostalgia was certainly bittersweet. he had grown up with gaelic at the forefront of his education. calahan’s hundred day streak on duolingo was a force to be reckoned with. “if you were from where i’m from, you’d be called scarlóideach . . . i’d count myself lucky. that would be a right pain to try and get anybody to spell out.” calahan almost felt dizzy. it was rare for him to just talk to somebody, for them to not judge him or think of him as strange. for a moment, he could forget about the weight—heavier than the earth, like atlas carrying the burden of the world—balancing on his back. the man chuckled, glancing over one shoulder at the redhead. “am i really that transparent?” he asked, “there’s . . . well, let’s just say if i hadn’t bought the place it would have been flattened in the next few months. it needed somebody to pull it back from the brink. the clientele isn’t exactly what i’m after,” an understatement, “but i’m working on it. making a few aesthetic changes, you know. improving the reputation.”

Scarlett listened intently, so much so she could feel herself nodding along to his pronounciation of the names, every syllable came a head nod. It was killing her not to take that notebook out and have hium write them all down, but she didn't need anyone looking at her crazy, especially not someone who had been so nice to her with their first time meeting. Though that didn't stop her from still saying weird things like, "Not to come off any stranger to you, but I think I could listen to you pronounce those names all day," Again, she couldn't help herself but she was sure she wasn't the only one to think this, maybe just the only one to say it out loud and to him. "It makes me even more jealous that your name is unique, but also way more grateful that I was not named Sara and given Scarlett instead." that was followed by laughter, even if she didn't have a more interesting name (in her opinion) she at least could say her name came with a backstory. "Oh, you've got a deal," she nodded enthusiastically, though she knew she didn't have too many of those 'friends' floating around the area, but she'd tell anyone who would listen. "What's the rumor mill going to tell me though? Has it been through rough times?"

[bloodandwinemuses]

"I have a question for ya. Do you prefer to top or bottom?" For Sile from Jess, the perpetually horny trash witch...

Almost instantly, her lips curved into a toothy grin --- lacking any and all subtlety that might’ve been proper to put on, as an act, but Síle couldn’t see any use in being a poseur when she could state freely and directly what she wanted. 

“Depends. For the right girl, I might even switch it up. Let somebody else take charge, y’know?  Like you, for example.”

@waydcwnwego

[rallamajoop]

The Witcher: The Games vs The Books

Coming to the fandom this late, I can only assume the relationship between the Witcher games and the original novels has been long since talked to death by others. But I'm far too fascinated by the whole glorious mess that is this canon not to want to get down some of my own thoughts about how it all fits together.

See, on the one hand, the games (Witcher 3 especially) are arguably only too dependent on the novels to stand alone. They do a wonderful job of picking up a number of unresolved plot points the books left hanging, and a woeful job of explaining so much a player coming in cold would really like to know – Ciri's history with Geralt, Yennefer, her powers and the Wild Hunt itself just to begin with. This is an issue that only increases as the games go along: cliche as Geralt's amnesia may be, it's used to good effect to introduce the world to the player in the first game. By the third, Geralt has all his old memories back and two extra games worth of new experience, and good lord is it all alienating to the newcomer.

On the other hand, so much about the games (again, the third especially) contradicts the novels in painfully irreconcilable ways. That wouldn't necessarily bother me – adaptations are allowed to rework and reinvent, stories can and should evolve in the retelling – except, well, see point one above. So you're bound to come out of the games with a lot of unanswered questions if you haven't read the books, and just as many if you have.

Spoilers to follow, of course, for both the books and the games.

Here's one of the big ones: just how did the world – Ciri included – discover that one of her long-presumed-dead parents was actually alive and well and now ruling the entire empire of Nilfgaard? Fucked if I know. Neither the games or the novels have any explanation. In the novels, in fact, the world at large believes Ciri is married to the emperor of Nilfgaard. Naturally, this 'Cirilla' is a fake, but the scandal were the full truth ever revealed would redefine Emhyr's reign. Yet somehow, in the games, everyone seems to know he's Ciri's father, and that whole awkward incest angle is never mentioned. Continuity has been tweaked pretty significantly, and it's left to the player to guess how. If that wasn’t bad enough, the games apparently still included a Gwent card of the fake!Cirilla (artwork above) just to ensure maximum confusion.

Before I get too sidetracked with all that stuff that doesn’t add up though, there really is a lot to be said for what does work about how the games expand on the plot of the novels. The Wild Hunt itself is the big one. The spectral cavalcade appears several times through the novels and hunts Ciri across multiple worlds in the final book before apparently losing her trail and vanishing to make way for the 'real' big bad, never to be mentioned again. While TW3 left me pretty underwhelmed by the revelation that the spectral Wild Hunt were just a bunch of dark elves in skull armor, the books had introduced the Hunt and let us spend some time on the dark elves' world before we get the reveal that the two may be one and the same. So for all the ranting I could do about missed opportunities regarding the Wild Hunt, they're the natural candidate for the games to pick up on as their new big-bads.

To my surprise, Geralt and Yennefer's "deaths" and subsequent recovery in pseudo-Avalon also comes straight from the novels. That everyone thinks Geralt dead at the start of the first game isn't, as I'd first assumed, a convenient excuse to have him reappear with amnesia, but simply how the novels end. Why Ciri leaves them and goes world-hopping isn't clear, but "because the Wild Hunt was after her again" is as good a theory as any. So, another point to the games there.

And there's so much more. The Catriona plague has only just appeared at the end of the novels, but we know it's posed for a major outbreak – one that’s in progress by the time of the games. The second game in particular does a terrific job of taking the ambitions of the expansionist Nilfgaardian Empire and the still-relatively-new Lodge of Sorceresses and building an entirely new conflict around them – even taking two of the least developed members of the Lodge (Sabrina Glevissig and Síle de Tansarville) and expanding them into major players. Dijkstra similarly ends the novels on the run from those in power, and having already taken the same assumed name 'Sigi Reuven' he's using in the games – while the books assure us that prince Radovid will grow up to pay back his father's assassins (ie. Phillipa) and become Radovid the Stern.

The twisted fairy tale origins of the novels are something the games actually seem to have gotten better at as they went on: the 'trail of treats' to the Crones is the great example, the monster-frog-prince and the land-of-a-thousand-fables of the expansions are two more, and many more are hidden in sidequests. And I'd be remiss not to mention that in again asking Geralt to pick a side in the conflict with the Scoia'tael, the first two games not only recreate a scenario Geralt repeatedly deals with in the books, but a major theme. It's interesting too how much the broad structure of the third game feels like an homage to the books, with Geralt searching for Ciri, interspersed with sections from her POV. You can nitpick the detail of any of these examples, but the intent is unmistakable, and a lot of credit is due for it in the execution too.

Some of the detail that's gone into translating the world of the Witcher books into the games is just insane – not just in the geography and history of the place, but right down to the names of the wine you can pick up. There's the fact the Cat potion makes Geralt see in black-and-white, or the fact the basilisk and cockatrice monsters are clearly based on the same model, but the basilisk is reptilian where as the cockatrice is more avian – which is exactly how Geralt describes the difference between them in The Lady of the Lake. There's a point where Book!Regis recounts a detailed list of all the lesser vampiric species, ending with the only two violent enough to tear apart their victims: almost all can be encountered in the games, and the last two (Fleders and Ekimma) are indeed the most animalistic. This kind of thing is everywhere.

My favourite examples tend to be those that blend into the background if you haven't read the books, but will get a grin from those who have, such as a peasant in Velen who will call out to Geralt (paraphrased from memory, alas) "Sir, sir! We be up to our ears in mamunes, imps, kobolds, hags, flying drakes... oh, and bats!" – which is a lovely little reference to a couple of conversations from Edge of the World wherein Geralt explains that most of the monsters the locals want him to take care of don't actually exist. Or all those soldiers chanting "Long live King Radovid!" – natural enough, but it takes on a whole new life if you've read the passage in Lady of the Lake where the young prince Radovid grumbles internally about having to sit and listen to the city chanting 'long live...' to every other notable figure present except him.

Really, it would be faster to list the things the games introduced that don't come from the original source material in any obvious form, because it's a struggle to come up with very many. The villainous Crones of Crookback Bog and Master Mirror of the Hearts of Stone expansion are the biggest ones that come to mind, along with a great deal of the vampire mythology from Blood and Wine. To the witchers themselves, they’ve added mostly game mechanics: the use of bombs and blade oils, the names of most of the potions, and three new witcher schools (all with their own specialised gear). There are a number of new creatures and monsters – Godlings, noon-and-night-wraiths, botchlings, shaelmaars and so on – and though trolls are mentioned in the books, the games take credit for giving them so much character. Obviously, there are new characters, like Thaller and Roche – but not technically Iorveth, because a Scoia'tael commander of that name is mentioned in the books, if only in passing. And already, short of just listing off every new character the games introduced, I’m running out of ideas. Credit where credit’s due on that front: most of the new characters and locations they’ve created feel authentic enough that Kalkstein or Thaller would be right at home in the novels’ world.

But for all their dedication to the detail, it's hard to feel like the games have really managed to capture the spirit of the books in their storytelling: the mundanely corrupt bureaucracy that does so much to bring the world to life, or their cheerfully cynical sense of humour, or the flamboyant wonder that is book!Dandelion, or their enthusiasm for putting women in positions of power, or the bigger themes about the differences between the story that gets sung by the bards and what really happened – or so much else from the novels that came as such a surprise to me when I started getting really sucked in.

And if we’re going to talk about all the little things they got right, it’s only fair to point out there are just as many little things they got wrong, and sometimes pretty glaringly at that. "I thought you bowed to no-one" says Emhyr to Geralt – almost as if book!Geralt doesn’t happily bow in most every situation where it would be polite or diplomatic to do so. "This would never have happened if the council was still around!" says Geralt upon finding a sorcerer's lab full of human experiments – as if none of his experiences with Vilgefortz or the wizards of Rissberg ever happened, back when the council was very much still around. In TW2, he mocks the idea of a woman like Saskia leading a rebellion – almost as if women like Falka and Aelirenn haven't led some of the most storied rebellions in history (and we can't even blame the amnesia, because Geralt himself mentions Aelirenn later – oh yeah, this one annoyed me particularly).

 Book!verse 'Lady of the Lake' is basically just Ciri being surprised while bathing

Yennefer's studious aethiesm and willingness to desecrate Freya's temple is entirely in character – but only if we forget that she had her own personal religious experience with the goddess Freya herself in Tower of the Swallow. And then there’s the fact the Lady of the Lake is now a literal lake nymph who distributes swords to the worthy, as if no-one writing for the games ever got past the title of that particular Witcher novel (let alone got the joke). And the list goes on. It's easy to get overly caught up in contradictions like this – it's hardly as if Sapkowski's novels don't contradict themselves in places, as almost any long-running series eventually will – but it's going to stick out to those who’ve read the novels nonetheless.

While we're talking about how the games pick up where the books left off though, the big contradiction that has to be touched on comes in bringing Geralt back at all, at least in any public capacity. There's plenty to suggest that Geralt survives the novels' end and even goes on to have further adventures, but it's also pretty explicit that the history books record his death in the Pogrom of Rivia as final. The last two novels by order of publication (Season of Storms and Lady of the Lake) go so far as to feature characters far in the future with an interest in Geralt's legacy, and they discuss the matter in some depth. As far as the world knows, Geralt is dead.

  Book!Geralt fanart by Diana Novich

But it's hard to blame the games for ignoring this – true, thanks to Geralt's longevity, they could have set their conflict many more years after those future scenes – maybe even used Ciri's established time-travel powers to let you pop quietly in and out of the past (and, okay, now I've thought through all that, I'm kind of sad they didn't). But there comes a point where that kind of slavish devotion to preserving the source material really doesn't do a story any favours, and I'm not sure I could name any other successful adaptation that's bothered.

Besides bringing Geralt back at all, most of the bigger changes pertain to Ciri. In fact, as much as I'm about to get deep into the nitpicks below, you can make a surprisingly good case that the games have made only one really big change, and that's in simplifying the prophesies surrounding her. See, in the novels, all those world-saving prophesies aren't technically about Ciri, they're about her as-yet-unborn child. Who gets to impregnate her is the big driving force behind most of the villains of the books – one that all the main contenders seem to see as more of an awkward necessity rather than the inspiration for violent lust, but even so. To Emhyr, having to marry his own daughter is a bug, not a feature – but he's willing to do it to become the father of the savior of the world. But if Ciri is capable of fulfilling those prophesies herself, then Emhyr is already the father of the savoir of the world, and the revisions to his relationship with Ciri start to make a lot more sense.

Ciri's history with the Aen Elle elves seems to have been similarly revised – if not quite so cleanly. Avallac’h and Eredin are, naturally, both book characters – in fact, a lot of personality has been left behind in the books, since Avallac’h originally had a rather camp flair, and Eredin is less the power-hungry kingslayer you might imagine. When Geralt meets Avallac’h in the books – which happens briefly in Toussaint, for one of those "everything you're doing is going to make everything worse because prophesy" conversations – he's busy decorating a cave with fake prehistoric paintings in the hope of confusing future explorers. (Surprisingly, there does seem to be official art of this moment on one of the gwent cards – see above – though the Avallac’h who jokes about adding erect phalluses to the picture and admits his vanity won’t allow him to resist signing it hasn’t entirely survived the transition to the new medium).

We also meet the former Alder King, Auberon, whose death we see in flashback in the game. (Fun fact: Auberon is actually blowing bubbles through a straw in a bowl of soapy water when we first meet him in the books, hence the straw in the illustration below. The books just have more whimsy than any of the games would know what to do with.)

Ciri spends some time in the final book as a prisoner on the world of the elves, who are as keen as everyone else for their king to father her unborn child. Avallac’h eventually convinces her that this is all for the greater good: her child will be able to open gates to allow the people of her world to escape when the apocalyptic White Frost arrives. But their king, like most older elves, is impotent, leading to multiple nights where Ciri allows him to take her to bed (in some of the frankly more disturbing scenes of the series) to no result. Eredin, moreover, doesn't appear to have intended to poison the king: the vial that kills him was supposed to contain some sort of fantasy viagra, and even Eredin seems genuinely shocked to learn its actual effects.

Regardless, Ciri eventually discovers that Avallac’h and the Aen Elle have deceived her, and intend to user her child's powers to invade her world, not save it. Neither world is threatened by the White Frost for at least several millennia, it's just a pretext to make her cooperate. And so she flees, and Eredin (already leading his Red Riders aka The Wild Hunt long before he was crowned king) pursues her.

With the books as context, why Ciri would ever trust Avallac’h is very hard to understand. It's a little easier if that whole awful episode with her and the former king is subtracted out – Ciri's child is no longer necessary for Eredin's goals. So it's odd that the game still references the deadly vial Eredin gave to the king. Are we to suppose the vial genuinely contained poison in this version of continuity? I'd rather it didn't – Avallach's ruse is far more interesting if he underwhelms Eredin's support by revealing a half-truth – but the games aren't telling us.

And then we have to factor in that one last detail I'd forgotten when I originally started playing with this theory: TW3 does contain one last, dangling reference to the time the old king spent trying to impregnate Ciri, when Ge'els very reasonably asks why on earth Ciri would ever trust Avallac’h now. It's a damn good question, and the game offers no real answers. So in Avallac’h, we're left with a character who is vital to the final chapters of the games, who comes out of nowhere without the books as context, but whose role makes no sense with that backstory in mind. Frankly, the writers would have been much better off avoiding the whole mess altogether and inventing some new character to take Avallac’h's place.

The treatment of the White Frost is even more confusing. The books are ultimately fairly explicit about just what the White Frost is: a ice age, most likely caused by the same mundane climactic factors that produced the real ice ages of our history. The only escape is intergalactic emigration, as Ciri (or her children) might some day enable.

In the games, the White Frost has instead become some sort of nebulous, free-floating apocalypse which will eventually reach all worlds, which is basically fine – up to a point. We briefly visit a dead world that the Frost has decimated, and even the Aen Elle are now supposedly planning to invade Ciri's world because it threatens theirs as well (I mean, apparently – their motivations are so underdeveloped you could miss them by accidently skipping just one or two lines of dialogue). When the Wild Hunt appears, it's always in a haze of cold. Their mages can invoke its power still more dramatically through portals which can freeze you in your tracks. So obviously, the Frost has already reached their world, and time is running out, right?

Well, no – you visit their world too (again, briefly – to meet a character who has never been mentioned before and won't be again, for reasons which have also never been mentioned before if you haven't read the books) – and there's no Frost in sight, apocalyptic or otherwise.

So why does the White Frost follow the Hunt around? No idea. It's never explained.

At the very end of the game, a second "Conjunction of the Spheres" occurs (possibly because of the Wild Hunt's appearance?), and the Frost begins to invade (or possibly Avallac’h summons it, so Ciri can go into it and destroy it?) It's all painfully unclear. The game is too busy pulling a bait-and-switch over whether Avallac’h's betrayed you to tell you what's actually going on instead.

But if Ciri could destroy the Frost completely (at great personal risk, but still) why is this not more clearly set up? Why did the Aen Elle think that escaping to another world (which will ALSO eventually be destroyed by the Frost) was a better solution than sending Ciri to face the Frost directly? For which matter, why do the Aen Elle need Ciri at all if sending enough ships to carry an army is no problem? Why does Ciri spend so much of the game questioning Avallac’h's true intentions, if they were ultimately so noble? When did he tell her the truth? If Avallac’h did summon the Frost, why did he pick that particular moment? And if he didn't, and it all just happened spontaneously, we're back to questioning why invading that world ever seemed like a good solution to Eredin – it all collapses in on itself.

None of these questions couldn't have been answered with a little creativity, but then the game would've had to dedicate some real time to explaining its backstory and developing its core conflict – something it's bizarrely reluctant to do. And if you think I may be drifting from the point a bit in the name of getting all my gripes about the ending down in one place, you're not wrong, but I feel Avallac’h and everything surrounding him is pretty much the ur-example of what doesn't work about the way The Witcher 3 depends on the novels: the backstory the writers are building on doesn't actually exist in any format available to the rest of us.

There are plenty of ways TW3 could have incorporated its backstory into its own narrative (yes, even excluding the method "by expecting people to read many many more pages of text from in-game documents", because that's bullshit and always will be). There are times it does this brilliantly, such as in the quest ‘The Last Wish’: everything you really need to know is covered in Yennefer and Geralt's conversation in the boat, and without ever making the dialogue sound unnatural. In fact, TW3 has even more options here than many works with the same problem, because Geralt is famous and people already think they know his story. You could have bards singing Dandelion's ballads, you could have characters confronting him with misunderstandings about his past to force him to correct them. You could also have Geralt visiting people and places he knows Ciri remembers fondly because of the time they spent there together, or include playable flashbacks similar to the time you spend playing as Ciri. You could stick chunks of backstory in optional sidequests or scenes old-school fans can skip through quickly. So many of my questions (how did Ciri get so close to Yennefer if they were never at Kaer Morhen together? Why has no-one tried training Ciri in her powers before? What does the Wild Hunt even do while it's not hunting Ciri? Why is Ciri princess of Cintra if her father is Emperor of another country altogether?) could have been answered so easily.

Seriously, summarising the Witcher books is not that hard. Lots of things happen, but only a fraction of it is really relevant in retrospect, and you could hit all the major plot beats in a handful of paragraphs. (Heck, I’d do it here if this post wasn’t already ridiculously over long.)

But then, TW3 has a bizarre problem with leaving so much of its best material off screen, even from its own story. It's criminal that we never get to see any of Geralt's time (or Yennefer's) with the Wild Hunt, even in flashback or dream sequence. This is material that directly sets up the relationship between the main hero and the main villain, and the most we ever hear about it is a few vague allusions to it being like a strange nightmare. Really? That's it? What was it like? Was Geralt in a trance, unable to control his own actions – was he brainwashed into believing he belonged there, or was he merely unable to escape? What atrocities might Eredin have forced him to commit? Did he visit other worlds? Was he paraded among the Aen Elle as a captive? There is no way this isn’t a part of the story worth talking about!

We never see the moment Ciri rescues Geralt from the Wild Hunt. We never see how Avallac’h convinces her to trust him, we never see the moment he was cursed, or any of her efforts to save him – all these big, story-defining moments are left off-screen, to be vaguely recounted to you later in dialogue. Then there's the entire political situation in Nilfgaard – you hear about it second-hand, and it's all resolved off screen. And the list goes on. Yet you and Ciri still have time to run around Novigrad so she can thank a bunch of throwaway characters you've never even heard of before, nor will again. The priorities on display here are baffling.

The Witcher 3 was such a wildly successful game that it’s obvious these sorts of issues didn’t seriously hold it back, and it’s such a big game that I could have sat down and written just as many words focusing only on the parts that do work without much difficulty. It boasts stunning visuals, addictive gameplay and some truly wonderful characters, and so many parts of the story work brilliantly in isolation that it’s strange to come out of it feeling that it ultimately adds up to so much less than the sum of its parts.

I’m glad TW3 exists – if it hadn’t been such a runaway success I doubt I’d ever have discovered Sapkowski’s universe at all, but for myself, TW3 will probably always be remembered as a somewhat-overlong introduction to the really good stuff, in the expansions and the original novels it came from. I looked up the novels after finishing TW3 in large part because I’d been left with so many unanswered questions – and I’m glad I did, but I’m honestly surprised more people weren’t turned off by TW3′s scattershot approach to its own narrative. You’re allowed to change and rework in moving to a new medium, but I can’t imagine it would’ve hurt games’ success to tell a complete story in the process.

[witcher-bullshit]

Tagging System

Since I just fixed not tagging all of my original posts from the beginning I thought I should make a post about my tagging system for newcomers!

bullshit talks - Everything that was penned by me + asks that I answered (formerly mine, but changed bc of iOS tag ban)

Games - Posts about the games or fanart that uses the games aesthetic, or more generally content that was produced by CDPR

Netflix Show - Posts about TWN or fanart that uses its aesthetic

Books - Posts about the book canon or fanart that uses their aesthetic, if you are looking for content for a specific book search for the UK title

The Hexer - Posts about the 2001/2 film/series or fanart that uses its aesthetic

Comics - This refers to the really old and grotesquely ugly (fight me) comics, but barely comes up

The different mediums are sometimes crosstagged obviously.

Memes - Well... pretty self-explanatory. Sometimes crosstagged with one of the above if it clearly refers to one of the mediums

Character Name - I try to tag every character that is mentioned in a post. I usually try to use the full name (i.e.: Geralt of Rivia and not just Geralt, note: I don’t do so for Regis, Dijkstra, Ciri and Cahir), no titles (so it’s Meve and not Queen Meve, exception: Sir Eyck of Denesle) and if the name is different in Polish and English I usually tag both (like Janek and Johnny, exception: I only use Sheala de Tancarville and not Síle de Tansarville), special case: Duny and Emhyr var Emreis, I tag according to presentation, sometimes both if the post refers to one or the other additionally.

If another franchise (and its characters) is included in a post (crossover headcanons or posts that have various fanarts etc.), it will be tagged, but at times negligently bc I don’t know it or something else

This should comprise the vast majority of reblogged posts, sometimes I add additional tags (but mostly to original posts so it shows up in more tags)

Caution!

1. If you haven’t consumed all of the books (or know this from the games), there will be sometimes massive spoilers. The biggest will be tagged with “The Witcher spoilers”, but I won’t tag every single quote or fanart that’s beyond the scope of the Netflix Show, sorry.

2. I don’t tag ns/fw or trigger warnings. I don’t reblog straight up smut, but sometimes there might be a boob or a lascivious Geralt or something (in short: stuff I deem tasteful not p*rnographic). Since The Witcher is mature content, mature things might come up in discussion or fanart (especially violence, blood, etc), as a rule of thumb: if it comes up in one of the source materials it might come up here, but I won’t reblog pics that have (especially sexual (violence)) shock value. These topics might come up in critical discourse about the source material though!

I hope this helps, you can always message me if you have questions :)

[mitheredbymidir]

Is ó mhnáib do·gabar rath nó amhrath

“Is ó mhnáib do-gabar rath nó amhrath.” Roughly translated as "It is from women that fortune comes, good or bad." but what if it really means "Fortune, good or bad is taken from women." Midir did talk in riddles and apparently this quote is cited as coming from Midir, in the council of the Tuatha Dé Danann. You can find this quote and the citation with many more "wise" sayings that will send you off down a rabbit hole here:

https://www.sengoidelc.com/is-o-mhnaib-do-gabar-rath-no-amhrath

Why would I take a more sinister translation than the obvious "women are mighty and great and the reason for everything", (which of course we are)? I'm thinking it is more a prophesy of what was to come for the women of the Goddess Isle of Ireland, the island of the Síle na Gigs, the womb mounds and Paps mountains. This was the beginning of the end of the old ways and the introduction of the roman patriarchy system to Ireland. The destruction was on a grand scale and still lingers. I think he was warning us. I've convinced myself more on this notion after reading this:

The Acallam na Senórach: A Medieval Instruction Manual by Annie Donahue

https://www.jstor.org/stable/40285190

Of course what would I know, I'm only making it up as I go along, except he loves warning us and watching to see if we trip. Look how he often he warned Eochaidh during The wooing of Etain, he didn't listen either. Nothing Midir ever says is just as is.

There are many things I have found interesting in this reference to Midir and the reading I've done since, one of which is that Midir is given a second name, Midir Mongbuide, unusual for someone who normally riddles me this and riddles me that when you ask him who he is. He is the most reluctant namegiver of the Tuatha, often giving great big long winded descriptions of himself and his deeds rather than handing over his name. Of course then I find it everywhere and in places I know I looked before which happens regularly in the research of this legend. It only reveals what it wants me to concentrate on and delve deeper into at that particular time.

" Midir Mongbuide m. in Dagda 407. 5068. 5184. 6937. also called Midir Bri Leith and Midir Mórglonnacli. Mil (Espáine) 399. 2059. 3909. ancestor of the Milesian Irish. CA. 78. 79. 99." https://digital.nls.uk/early-gaelic-book-collections/archive/76498395?mode=transcription

"Ancestor of the Milesian Irish", hmmm, eventually I'll manage to prove we're related! 🤣😂🤣😂

Another day spent down the rabbit hole with Midir, wish someone would pay me for this madness!

[sadisim]

Hello!! Here’s a RQOTD for you; What would your OC like to be reincarnated as and why?

Hola! Tyvm for the question ^_^

Aria would love to be an owl! They are her favourite animals/birds because of how mysterious yet adorable they are. They’re loners, stay up late and hide from people! Totally like her.

Hey thank you for all the asks! The spam is appreciated

Soy milk is her favourite!

Mugs always starts her day with a lot of protein and fruit. It keeps her going throughout the day with her training ^_^ 

Hey don’t worry about it at all! You’re not forced to send any back

Hana has been massively manipulated by her mother to be turned against her father. She explicitly remembers being 7 years old and her mom lying to her about her dad being sexually abusive towards her. Hana’s believed her mother for a long time, being totally hateful towards her father with no other solid proof. She regrets it deeply now.

Listen, Topaz is CRAZY for baths. She makes all those crazy satchels with seeds and flower petals and tea and all other crazy things she can throw in there! The perfect bath for her would include milk, honey and a loooot of rose petals! Very good for her skin and scales :’D 

Vaughn doesn’t know jack shit about politics but he ALWAYS gets into arguments with people. He literally just jumps on the bandwagon and fights people over stupid shit and rumours. He’s the worst. He’s literally the epitome of human brain/monkey brain memes.

Funnily, Síle and Vaughn visited quite a few in their travels when they were just getting together. It was really fun for her but Vaughn didn’t approve of her being seen naked by other people so they stopped doing it after stuff got serious.

Totally okay hahah! Don’t waste your 10 asks on me though! XD

Trinity will NEVER ever shave down there. She literally gags at the idea of having her hair ripped out with wax. She doesn’t give a fuck honestly. 

Astrid despises cleaning the dishes. Aria insists on not getting a dishwasher since it wastes a lot of water resources so she has to do it all manually. Oh the things she does for love..!

Nostalgia’s a daredevil so if it’s a paid bet or something for adrenaline rush she’d do it in a heartbeat. Make sure someone’s filming tho!

Elna lives on a farm so they have lots of horses, chicken,geese,goats and all that stuff! They also have two dogs and a couple cats around the house as well!

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Fifteen)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Fifteen: Y/N is getting by with minimal contact with Cillian whilst he continues to work away, but a rare chance to see him on a Zoom call brightens her mood. When she gets a call the same evening from his sister, she prepares herself for a Corkonian takeover at the end of the following week. His sister says something, and she finds herself taken aback by Cillian's reaction. [Family life/Fluff/Angst] (I've run out of grey haired GIFs that apply so take this one!)

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meadowshelby @strangeions @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

Yoke - thing (keep getting asked about that one)

Gatting - heavy drinking/drinking

Leaba - Irish word for bed

Síle is pronounced like Shee-lah

.......

You went three days with just a few texts between you and Cillian once he'd landed back in England. He had night filming, interviews, and a desperate need for sleep to occupy him. But on the evening of the fourth day, sitting in your office, it surprises you to receive a Zoom invite a few moments after you log out of your accounts for work. You can barely contain the buzz of excitement as you connect and wait to see his face. His face fills your screen and it's so good to see him. His beanie is pulled over his hair, and he's got a coat over his clothes that tells you he's either coming in or going out.

“Hello,” you beam. “It's really good to see your face.”

He smiles brightly back at you, “Ah fuck - it's good to see you, too.”

“Are you coming in or going out?” You ask, and you chuckle when he looks down at himself then back up at you.

“Heading out,” he says. “Dinner with Packy, Sophie and Matt.” He elaborates. “But I wanted to see you a wee bit before I go.”

“You had a busy day?” You ask. He'd text you around five am, having finished a night of filming again, and let you know he was back to filming in the daytime tomorrow. You didn't know, though, I'd he'd fallen into bed after that or if he had a string of things to occupy him and planned on sleeping tonight instead.

He shakes his head, “Not overly. I was asleep til gone eleven,” he grins, “Then I sat on my arse for a while but it was in front of this yoke for interviews so I suppose I was working.” He chuckles. “I had the glasses on there for a bit, my eyes are wrecked from looking at this all afternoon. I don't know how you cope with it for work.” He shakes his head. “Can't wait to crawl back into me leaba later.”

“You'd live in your bed if we let you.” You laugh lightly, and he grins back at you. “Still coming back home for a few days after next week?” You ask him hopefully.

“Of course,” he nods earnestly. “Missing you farting in the bed,” raises his eyebrows and the giggle he erupts into as he slags you leaves you unable to defend yourself even in false annoyance.

“You're a prick,” you smirk, shaking your head. “But I miss you. Not having you moaning at me to turn the brain-rot TV off is actually getting boring.” He laughs lightly, and you watch his tongue draw back and begin flicking against his bottom teeth. “Did you talk to the boys?”

He nods his head, “Yeah, just off the phone there actually.” He says with a bright expression. “They're grand by all accounts.” His head whips around to the door behind him suddenly and you can hear the faint sound of it knocking. He gets up from the seat he's in. You watch the screen as he walks towards the door of his hotel room and drags it open enough to see out. “Howeya…no, you're fine, come in. Just talking to Y/N, there.” His voice is quieter with the distance from the laptop but you can hear him well enough. You watch him step aside from the door and pull it further open, and there's a little anxiety in the pit of your stomach in anticipation of whomever is on the other side of it. You relax almost instantly when it's Packy who walks into view.

With a cheeky grin, he approaches the laptop and all but shoves his face into the camera. “Well, Y/N, what's the craic?” He laughs, and you can hear Cillian's light giggle behind him.

“Hiya,” you smile brightly back. “You lot out on the piss tonight then?”

Packy purses his lips and shakes his head comically, “God no, no getting on it tonight.” He insists as he steps back from the laptop. You can see Cillian loitering with a little awkwardness, like he's a little on edge now that somebody is in his space, but beyond his hand being close to his mouth, he gives no other indication of unease. “Well, I suppose we could?” He looks to Cillian and you watch Cillian's brows rise up, “Well Sophie's fella is driving, there's no use everyone being a pioneer for the night.” He laughs and Cillian shakes his head with a bright smile.

“You'll have to take his shoes off for him if that's the case, he's not so good with them after a few.” You speak up, and while Cillian makes a face and laughs lightly Packy doesn't seem to have heard you at all. “And take him to the toilet before you leave a bar, yeah? I'd rather not be WhatsApp’d another string of images of him peeing in the street.”

Packy laughs - evidentially he'd heard you that time and of the event in question - and points at Cillian who shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Don't worry, Y/N, if he gets it out in the street we'll give him a slap.”

Cillian frowns and bends at the waist, and stares straight into the camera. “You can fuck off,” he says with raised eyebrows, but all you can do is laugh. “No gatting tonight!” He promised, “Here, we’re away. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” He says with a genuine and bright smile. “Go on and watch your shite on TV.”

You laugh and wave into the camera. “Have a good night. Love you.” You say with a soft smile.

“Love you too.” He says with a serious expression. He gives a thumbs up and then the call ends.

You hadn't expected a call, so you try to keep the nice surprise of it as a pleasant thing and not dwell on the fact that he was now gone again. You decide to do as he suggested - bullshit TV. And maybe a takeaway.

You make your way down the two flights of stairs and into the kitchen. Immediately, you feel how cold it is and adjust the thermostat on the wall beside the sofa. You need to remember to change it back, or Cillian will be moaning about the cost to heat the place, and that it's a sauna in the bedroom. Back in the kitchen, you leave your phone on the island and begin searching through the kitchen drawers for a takeaway menu. You're certain there are Chinese and Indian takeaway menus knocking about, but by your third unsuccessful drawer, you're beginning to assume that Cillian has thrown them out on one of his mad moments of domestic service. About to surrender, you check in the fourth drawer, strewn with poorly organised cooking utensils, and ‘a-ha!’ to yourself mentally as you find the menus pinned beneath the ladle and wooden spoon. You shut the door with your bum as you turn around, hands occupied with scouring through the menus. Definitely Chinese over Indian, and definitely egg fried rice over Cillian's preferred mushroom rice. The decision of what to stuff yourself with along with the rice, though, is a harder one. Chicken balls and BBQ sauce, or a spice bag, or Cantonese sweet and sour chicken? You could get it all, and take a small amount from everything, and have the leftovers tomorrow, of course, but you weren't sure you were willing to spend fifty euro on a Chinese takeaway for just yourself.

You lean against the island as you look over the menu, and glance across when your phone begins buzzing and singing out ‘San Diego Song’ as it rings. You abandon your hunger for a moment and lean across awkwardly. You frown as “Síle” flashes on the screen. Answering the call, and pushing it onto speakerphone, you stand over the handset curiously. “Hi, Síle,” you say softly. “Everything okay?” You're a little taken aback that she's calling you at all, and even more so as his family knows he's in England right now. Why not just call her brother?

“Hiya, Y/N,” Síle says, bright and cheerful. “Sorry bothering you in the evening, but I know Cill is away. I wanted to ask, would it be okay if Griff and I stayed up with you towards the end of next week? We've an event in Dublin, and it'd be nice to see you. And I know Cill should be back home there at the end of the week, I think anyway, I'm sure he said….”

You remind yourself what day you're on now. “Friday,” you say. “He’ll be back on the Friday. In the afternoon, I think.”

“I'll ring him, and I'll talk it over, but you're home there now, so.” You hear her laugh.

“I mean, you're so welcome, you know that. And the boys will be up on the Sunday, too. Bet they'd be happy seeing you both. As long as you can stick your brother being a pain in the arse, and the sofabed up in the office. Though if the boys aren't staying then I'm sure you can use one of their rooms.” You say with a smile.

“Ah, you know us by now, Y/N, wherever we hang out hats.” She laughs again. “You're a star, Y/N, thanks a million.” she says with a quiet laugh. “And you're alright yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Working, and about to get a Chinese with as much chicken as I can stomach in Cillian's absence.” You laugh, and you hear her laugh too. “And you two?”

“Ah, yeah, sure we're grand. Same as yourself, working away and all.” She says, still bright and cheerful.

“That's good,” you smile.

“So if we say Friday, yeah? You're sure that's okay, now?” She checks.

You answer immediately in the affirmative. “Yeah, absolutely. Friday is fine. As I said, he's home Friday. And you'll stay for the weekend?”

“If youse don't mind - we've the thing in Dublin on Saturday daytime but it'd be good to be visiting for a few days, and to see Aran and Malachy.” Síle says cheerfully.

“It’ll be great to see you. But you might change your mind on Friday when Cillian gets home. He's not been getting a lot of sleep, and you'll find him going through you for a shortcut.” you laugh a little.

“Ah, sure hasn't he always been the same, girl!?” She laughs again. “Come here, Y/N, I'll let you get on with your Chinese takeaway. I'll talk to you both before, anyway, but otherwise I'll see you soon.”

“See you soon, Síle.” You say, and hit the cancel button on the phone. You do wonder, now, if Cillian should have been involved in the decision but you're fairly sure he wouldn't tell his own sister to get a hotel! Still, you open your texts and send a message across to Cillian, letting him know Síle’s request and that you have agreed to it.

“Dinner good? Síle rang me - she and Griff want to stay here next Friday & over the weekend for something they have in Dublin. I said no problem. I know you're back on Friday too but we can have a quiet evening anyway. Maybe call her? Love you x.”

You return to your menu, having mentally made made your choices whilst on the phone, and then scour through the app on your phone to find the Chinese that actually corresponds to the menu. Finding the ChowTown restaurant on Church Road, you put through your order and grimace at the delivery charge before finalising. Just as you go to set your phone down, Cillian's text reply comes through. You slide down the notification bar and click to open it.

“She texted me that she'd tried to ring. Didn't get any call. No bother anyway. We can get dinner or something. Can throw them in Aran's room, not like he's using it. The restaurant is loud, I want to go to bed ha ha. Love you.”

You smirk as you swipe away the message, and push your phone into the pocket of your hoodie. You slink over to the sofa and drop down, immediately flicking the TV onto Amazon Prime and began to search for a film you know Cillian would turn his nose up to, but that you really wanted to see. The only benefit you found to the little bastard being gone was that you could indulge yourself in things he didn't like - or didn't approve of - but even that didn't make his absence worth it.

You booked the Friday off as annual leave and spent the day ensuring you had the house in order - not that either of you were particularly untidy - and that all three of the available beds had clean sheets in case there was a case of musical beds once Síle and Griff arrived. You finished a quick grocery shop - wine, snacks, fresh fruit and veg, and bottled water - and finished your stint as Cinderella by sweeping and mopping the floor that covered the whole of the open plan space downstairs. Satisfied, as you stand in your gleaming kitchen, you light the wood wick candle that had been gifted to you at some point over the last twelve months and left it in the centre of the island. You love the crackle of the wooden wick, and it doesn't take long for its vanilla and coffee bean scent to start filtering around the space. It's three o'clock in the afternoon, and you're finally satisfied that you now look like you live in an untouched show home and that it smells so clinically clean that nobody will ever guess that you're human and eat or drink anything at all.

You fill the kettle with water and set it on to boil. Despite the offer on more than one occasion to collect him at the airport, Cillian had declined as he wanted to do something before coming home so all you were doing now was waiting - which you hate. You place the coffee press beside the kettle and spoon in the ground coffee, then stand awkwardly as you glance around you. Why did waiting for something always make you feel like you could do anything else? But you were excited to see him, and you were both excited and nervous to see his sister and husband, too. You were looking forward to one of your favourite phenomenons, too - Cillian's accent getting stronger in the presence of someone else from Cork!

As the kettle comes to a boil and silences, you frown. You're sure you heard the crackling of the gravel outside, but it could just be the candle crackling. Still, your stomach flutters and you walk towards the front door to peer out of the glass in the room if the door and check. Sure enough, you can see a car and a lone figure, though the mottled glass that doesn't allow a clear view out, but you'd know that figure anywhere. It does help that he's lugging a wheeled bag awkwardly along the gravel as the car reverses away. You unlock the front door and pull it open, smiling brightly as Cillian looks up at you. The beanie is ever present, his glasses are perched on his nose, and the look of exhaustion mixed with a smile across his face feels like home to behold.

“You're back,” you say, smiling brightly.

His smile widens a little as he reaches the door, “I'm back.” He says, letting go of the bag on the doorstep. He wraps his arms around you immediately and you snake your arms around his back. His kiss is soft and loving, and he tastes like coffee and smells like himself. You move to rest your head on his chest, still standing at the door. It's been a long couple of weeks and you've missed the presence of his body in the house. He laughs a little and squeezes you before letting go. “C'mon, let's get in.” He says, and begins trying to pull your arms from him. You let go, smirking, and close the door on the outside once he's in the door. “God, have you disinfected the whole house?” He asks, looking around him, as he releases his bag once again beside the coat hooks.

“I have,” you nod with a smile. “How was the flight?”

He juts his chin up, “Ah, same as always.” He sniffs. “Will we whack on the kettle? I need tea.” He smiles.

“It's just boiled actually. Which tea do you want?” You ask as you turn your back on him, as he takes off his shoes and coat, and make your way to the kitchen.

“Oh, whatever you get,” he says. A moment later, he has his arms around you from behind, his chin on your shoulder, as you pour water from the kettle into a mug with a herbal tea bag inside. “God…” he grumbles against your cheek, “Missed you.”

You smile, “I've missed you too. It's been a long couple of weeks.”

“Síle give a time for today?” He asks, and unwraps his arms from you as you push his mug along the counter for him to pick up. Taking the mug, he yawns tightly and noisily.

You shake your head, and turn to face him. “No, just that she'd be here today.” He nods slowly and yawns a second time. “Did you not sleep last night?” You ask, smirking.

He shakes his head, “I did, but…” he shrugs his shoulders as he yawns a third time. “Fuck sake.” He stretches his eyes wide as his jaw snaps shut. “You didn't hear from the boys this week, did you?” He asks and then sips at his tea.

You shake your head, “No, I mean I did text on Thursday about Sunday and Aran said he'd be coming, I didn't get anything from Malachy. But otherwise, no.” you say. “Why?”

Cillian frowns, “Ah, I was on the phone to Aran on Tuesday, I think, and he was in a bit of a mood. Couldn't get out of him why, but he told me he didn't want to come over on the weekend, that it was pissing him off.” He shakes his head.

“Well, like I said, Thursday’s text said he'd be here. You said he was in a mood, maybe he was just being a shit with his words.” You reason.

Cillian nods, “Yeah, I get that. But, I don't get why, like.” He shrugs.

“School, a fight with his mum, pissed off with his brother, hormones…” you list, smiling at him. “He's a teenage boy, don't take it personally.” he rolls his eyes at you as he sips at his tea again. “I'll throw your bag upstairs. Do you want to get the washing out first? Save bringing it up to bring it down again.”

“Ah leave it, I'll do it there in a minute.” He says, shaking his head. He sets his mug down onto the counter beside him and holds his arms open. “Come here,” he raises his eyebrows. “Didn't get enough there before.” He grins at his own cheesy line. But you oblige, and fold yourself against his chest as his wraps his arms around you tightly. His chin rests on the top of your head, and he breathes deep and contented breaths that soothe you as much as you assume they do him. You're not sure how long you stand there, comfortable and close, but you're disappointed when there's a heavy knock on the front door that signals the end of the intimacy.

You sigh and push yourself up out of his embrace. “That'll be your sister.”

He sticks out his bottom lip, “Fuck,” he raises a single eyebrow. “I was hoping for a quickie before they got here.” You slap your hand against his arm, tutting but smiling, as you walk towards the front door. All you can think now is, Let the Corkonian takeover begin!

Cillian’s shift in brightness surprises you massively as you'd open the door and welcome in his sister and her husband. But that chirpiness only lasts for the time it takes to make dinner and settle around the dining table before he is yawning, and exercising his right to live with a perpetual bitch face. He chats, and isn't rude at all, but you can see as you all ate that he is heading speedily towards switch off mode after three weeks working flat out. He smiles as Griff talks about work, and as Síle explains what they're up to tomorrow in the city, and you reach across the table and tap your fingers gently across the back of his hand.

“Do you want another?” You ask, and nod towards his empty beer bottle before him. When he nods briefly, you take to the empty one as you stand up. “Another drink, guys?” You offer. They're all seemingly enjoying the thrown-together meal, and that's helped to alleviate some of your anxiety about things going well while they're here.

“Another glass of wine would be lovely,” Síle smiles brightly. And you're a little surprised when Griff declines and gestures towards his still half full beer.

You excuse yourself to the kitchen, with Síle’s glass and Cillian's empty bottle, and take a moment to breathe before you replace their drinks. They're lovely - all of his family are, in fact - but you consistently fear doing anything wrong in case their opinions of you turn sour and they begin to see you as you'd always feared they would after the affair. As you close the fridge door and set Cillian's beer onto the island, you hear footsteps around the wall from the dining room and look up. “You okay?” You ask, as Cillian approaches, carrying his knife and fork.

He nods with a soft smile just about pulling his lips, “Knocked them onto the floor,” he rolls his eyes. He walks around to the sink and throws them in and takes a clean set from the drainer beside it. He turns and leans back against the sink. “Y'alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod and smile. “You look done in.” You say, softening your expression sympathetically.

He nods his head, “Think it's because I've stopped, you know, after going for nearly a month.” He smirks. “We’ll roll into bed in a wee while,” he says and raised his eyebrows. “Throw me out the opener, there,” he says as he pushes away from the sink and picks up the beer bottle on the island. You hand it over, and as he pops off the cap, you pour Síle's glass of wine, and you return to the dining room with him just a step or two behind.

“When are you back in England, Cill?” Síle asks as he sits down across from her. She gives you a bright smile as you hand her the refilled wine glass.

“Tuesday,” he says with a nod, then takes a drink from the bottle. “This yoke tomorrow, is it like an exhibition?” He asks. She'd mentioned that they were attending an arts event not too far from the wax museum just off O’Connell Bridge, in a small building that gave nothing away.

“I suppose,” Síle shrugs. “Griff's friend has work that is in it.”

Cillian turns down the corners of his mouth and raises his eyebrows, “Cool,” he smiles.

“And the boys are well?” Griff asks, “We do be interacting there on Facebook with them but you wouldn't be quick getting a reply from them.” He laughs.

Cillian clicks his tongue, “Phones never out of their hands, but sure if they answer a text it's a miracle.” He smirks. “But they're grand. Aran’s got the leavers soon so he's busy, and between the girlfriend, college and that wee job in Eason’s, Malachy does be hard to pin down.”

“I'm looking forward to seeing them on Sunday, Y/N said they'll be here.” Síle says, and places her cutlery down to reach for her glass.

“Yeah, dinner here every week. If I'm home, I do get Aran from school. Malachy stayed here the night before I went back there.” Cillian smiles, “I said to Y/N, wrecks the head that they're growing up.” He smirks, but you can see the nostalgia there.

“I only spoke to Yvonne a few days ago, she was wishing Griff a happy birthday and just chatting on about the boys. Do you get talking to her much, or just the kids?” Síle spoke delicately, without malice or deliberate stirring, but you still find your stomach dropping.

Swallowing his mouthful of beer, Cillian sets the bottle back down and shrugs his shoulders. “The odd bit, but it's usually only if it concerns the boys. Last I spoke to her was before I went away just to give her the dates when I'd be home because I knew the lads wouldn't remember.”

“And it's awkward?” She presses on and you catch Cillian's quick glance in your direction.

“It's grand,” he says and waves his hand. “I didn't know you two were still in touch though.” He says, and you examine the frown on his brow - is he angry, confused, both?

“Don't be reading into that,” Síle says quickly, “It's only to ask about the kids. And you two were together years, Cillian. I know things were difficult before you split up but I can't be a bitch to her entirely; she's raising my nephews.” You find yourself understanding Síle’s stance somewhat. “Are you gone moody now?” She challenges her older brother with a comical expression.

He shakes his head, once again turning down the corners of his mouth. “I'm not, no.” He sighs. His mood has shifted slightly, you can tell, but you're not sure what he's thinking of feeling.

“Cill,” Síle sighs. “I'm not ringing up and inviting her down, that's not what's happening. Birthdays, celebrations, yeah? That's all. And I just ask after the boys.” She explains.

“You can ask me,” he looks at her with a serious expression across his face. “I'm not so fucking far removed from my own kids that I couldn't answer ya.”

“I didn't say you were…” Síle says, and you can see she's taken aback by his snapping. “Cillian, I…” she shrugs her shoulders. “I shouldn't have said anything. I mean the conversations are so infrequent, it's just a touching base sort of thing occasionally…” she ambles for any way to fan out the flames, but you get the sense that everything she says digs her in deeper.

“It's been three years since the divorce, four since we split, and you're only now telling me that the two of ye are taking?!” He sits back in his chair and you feel awkward and anxious. You glance across the table and you can see your feelings echoed in Griff's expression. “I'm their fucking father, you can ask me, for fucks sake, Síle!”

“Cillian…” you reach out your hand as he gets to his feet. You appreciate his upset fully, but you suspect the ferocity of his reaction is rooted in his fatigue. Nobody says a word as he storms away, beer bottle in hand. You exhale heavily and glance first at Griff, then at Síle. “I feel like I warned you,” you say, trying to make light of the atmosphere as it pressed heavily down on the three of you.

You're grateful that she at least gives a grim laugh in response. “Yeah,” she shakes her head. “You did.”

[renegaderoots]

Starter call for my less popular muses

Aibhilin Morrison | Fc: Katie McGrath

Síle Teagan Morrison | Fc: Alexandra Daddario

Adam Morrison | Fc: Marlon Teixeira

Kaya Morrison | Fc: Tashi Rodriguez

Alannah Morrison | Fc: Sade Giliberti

Trish Lynch | Fc: Amber Heard

Like this if you’d like a starter from one of these characters. I ask, however, that you specify a muse.

Rules | Ask | Wishlist

[florbelles]

8-10 for nessa 🫶🏻🫶🏻

TY BELOVED!! i did these for the gen section xx

—008. WHAT DO THEY SAY WHEN THE PLAYER CHARACTER ASKS THEM TO STAY IN CAMP? HOW ABOUT WHEN THE PLAYER CHARACTER ASKS THEM TO COME ADVENTURING AGAIN?

"Me? You're not serious." [dev note: implying there are other more expendable options, including the player if no other companions are in the party] "Fine. You know where to find me when you come crawling back." [dev note: half-joking; she isn't hostile but does in fact expect the party will fare poorly in her absence] Simply says “ah, good” when asked to rejoin.

—009. DOES YOUR TAV HAVE ANY ESCALATING CONFLICTS WITH ONE OF THE OTHER COMPANIONS, LIKE LAE’ZEL AND SHADOWHEART’S KNIFE-FIGHT?

Not of a serious nature, no, but she and Gale are worsties of all time. It's not personal it's just a wizard/sorceress rivalry and Nessa's convinced she knows better than everyone always and they're in a running aggravated competition but not in a lethal way, just in a super annoying way. (If the player character is a wizard, this won't become an actual point of contention unless the player character escalates it, but it will come up.)

—010. ARE THERE ANY UNIQUE NPCS ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR TAV THAT CAN SHOW UP DURING THE COURSE OF THE GAME?

Síle! Canonically speaking she's Síle's questline NPC (the one who wrote to her asking her to come to the city knowing she would for her and no one and nothing else). In the event Nessa was the infected companion, it's reversed; Síle will be found at Waukeen's Rest. You can choose to save her from execution; she'll escape regardless, but she'll only join your camp and aid you in the final conflict if you help her (her battle is probably a real pain in the ass). Killing her yourself will cause Nessa to turn hostile with no exceptions; refusing to help her will result in her leaving the party unless you pass a high persuasion check you can access if you pass a history check to know Síle has survived both her own assassination and execution attempts in far more dire circumstances.

Her brother gets infected and turns illithid and while he's dead by the time the gang gets to Baldur's Gate in Nessa's actual canon in a scenario where she's a companion they could also track him down and see if there's any of him left. (alas.) we do love losing family members in this game after all

[secondhandmckie]

Like a cat eager to gain attention, Síle gently brushed her head against Molly's arm and then shifted sideways so that she could look at her directly. If she had known Molly better, Síle might've even been bold enough to just straight up crawl into her lap. But they were merely a step away from strangers - as funny and pretty as the other woman was - so because Síle wanted Molly to like her, she opted for safe. "I think you should cuddle with me, play with my hair, tell me how your day went."

Sile’s Being Cuddly!

She’d been poking through a book on the evolution of music (a fascinating read to be sure), an old black and white movie on in the background as she sat with Sile on her couch. Her attention was already straying from the movie back to the same page she’d read about twelve times, when she felt her companion’s nudge.

“You do, huh?” Molly asked, a little surprised but not about to turn down cuddling a pretty girl. Reluctantly, she set down the book and settled back, opening her arms. “Comin’ in?”

[seashellronan]

Hello I would need a favour from you if you would king enough to help me? :) I am writing a novel and a main character is Irish. Could you give me Irish gaelic words for mom, dad and little sister? They are supposed to be terms of endearment. And if you had time to perhaps write some gaelic(?) or things an Irish girl would say ( phrases and those sort of things) I want to make the character as realistic as I can Thank you so much and have a wonderful day my fellow bisexual friend

(this might get long because im an irish nerd okay sorry) okay well most people here arent actually fluent in irish, it depends on what parts your from, there are gaeltacht where irish is a first language but for most people its just a subject you have to take in school so not all of these will be actual gaeilge but youre better off adding some colloquialisms rather than the language sometimes because its not that common unless shes a fluent speaker

there arent really terms of endearment specifically for parents as gaeilge but its slightly different english

for mother we would say mam, ma, or mammy rather than mom, (mammy is very affectionate)

dad would be da, or dad (or sometimes the aul fella)

for siblings youd generally use their name or some variation, or just a random nickname, (like my dad calls me turnip, tinkerbell, just random shit idek) also chicken/chick is one i and my fam use for everyone

its also pretty common for irish kids to use their parents first names especially when referring to them in conversation with friends, also the possesive pronouns gets dropped alot if youre with friends e.g insetad of saying “ill ask my mam” you could say ill ask mam

also parents might use “a stór” to mean my dear or love e.e “whats wrong love” “will you get that for me love” 

also insults are a huge term of endearment especially for friends some good ones are: 

eejit (slang for idiot) 

amadán (irish for fool) 

gobshite (idek what i could translate this to, usually used as “ya gobshite”)

liúdramán - idiot

other than that terms of enderment tend to be in english

as for irish things that a girl would say heres some irish words i use in my everyday life, these are generally used to replace the english words 

geansaí -  jumper/sweater (e.g, thats a nice geansaí you have on you)

craic - youve probably heard this before but its a big one make sure you use it right tho e.g

whats the craic? any craic? - how are you/whats happening

that was great craic/we had good craic - that was fun/we had fun

having the craic - having fun

faic - nothing/fuck all

feck - fuck but not as harsh, can be used the same as fuck in every way except to do with sex

plamás - flattery/being nice in order to get what you want (she was just plamásing me)

the guards - the police

an bhfuil cead agam dul go dtí an leithreas - the first irish phrase everyone learns, it translates to can i go to the toilet, but irish people always use it to trick non irish speakers

póg mo thóin - kiss my ass, used mostly the same as the previous phrase

go raibh maith agat/go raibh míle/go raibh míle síle - thank you/thanks a mill/thanks a million síle (idk who síle is it just rhymes with míle)

phlean maith - good plan

just generally if like me shes a good irish speaker and likes irish, it would be in character to replace random english nouns with irish so dont be afraid to look up some words or ask me honeslty because i love it

thats all i can think of right now, dont be afraid to look up some slang, heres a link to some good really common phrases in english that are very irish hope this helps feel free to follow up with any questions

[bloodandwinemuses]

[Would anyone be so kind as so send some asks for Síle, Lin’s younger sister? Anything from likes and dislikes to insecurities and her childhood is fair game, and would be greatly appreciated! I will, of course, repay the favor. ]

[sadisim]

ᴇɴғʀᴀᴍᴇᴅ | sᴏɴɢ

𝒦𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓊𝓉,  𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽.  𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝒶,  𝒯𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒.

“There is a picture in Vaughn’s old room. The only one he kept.” Josephine explains, teary eyed as her head immediately bobs down without realising it. “After our beloved Síle passed away, Vaughn moved on the first floor right above her room. He could not stand to be in their old room anymore so it remained vacant until Margo moved in.” Her fingers entwine slowly as if she was crocheting something and then the movement suddenly stopped, her chin raising to face him. “He had explicitly asked us to remove all of the pictures around the house, but father insisted on keeping at least a few up on the fireplace and down the halls. The rest were stored away in a large family album and placed away in the wardrobe where all of her belongings were put.” She pauses briefly to take a deep breath before continuing, clearly anxious to revoke such a grim part of her past. “This, however” a weary smile spreads across her lips “is the only picture he kept in his room. He specifically asked us to frame it in a white border because it was her favourite colour. It’s surely...well” she giggles for a moment, covering her mouth “not their best picture.I am unsure why he treasures it so dearly but I do not doubt his genuine attraction for it. Maybe it is so because he cannot see her face...It haunts him oh, so grievously...”