#like Siggy's mom?

[non-un-topo]

Someone in my class told me I sit like a tall person and I’m going to be riding this high forever

[sandersstudies]

Since you can't share top picks for potential baby names, would you be willing to share which ones you considered that didn't quite make the cut? AKA ones you know you won't be using?

YESSSSSS I feel like I’m an influencer for the first time. I have to keep my two top picks each for boys and girls to myself in case I use them in the future but if I don’t and I still have this blog when my family is complete I’ll share.

I won’t be sad if you judge me in the notes! These names all didn’t make the cut for a reason.

Boys

James (My husband and I actually both like this name but my extended family has two James’ already)

Basil

Bates

Geordi (We are Trekkies and love Geordi LaForge but sadly decided that this is a cute little boy’s name but maybe sounds a little juvenile for a grown man.)

Mathi

Ambrose

Anselm

Atticus

Mangan (This was intended to honor a male mentor in my life but my husband knew a kid named Mangan who sucked and ruined this one for him.)

Sheridan (We decided this sounded too feminine.)

Selwyn

Sigrun (We actually liked this for a boy, nicknamed Sig or Siggy, but concluded that the Norse mythology connection made it too feminine.)

Zefram

Amyas/Amias (This was my top pick boy name for a while but my husband didn’t like this one at all.)

Leander

Lemuel

Laertes (Another of my favorites my husband didn’t like.)

Peregrine (This is a saint name that goes well with my second-favorite girl name but obviously most people hear Peregrine Falcon.)

Penton

Delemay (We decided this one sounded to feminine.)

Viggo

Kodiak (I said the mountains. My husband said the camera.)

Silas

Gideon

Pascoe (My husband thinks this is too close to Pascal, which makes him think of Tangled.)

Jude

Jethro (My mom actually vetoed this one.)

Girls

Ronnette/Roni (My family has a lot of Ronalds after a family member who passed away, and I liked this feminine alternative.

Agnes (This was one of the few girl names my husband and I both liked for a while.)

Liesl (Like the Sound of Music.)

Zelpha (Another family name)

Sophronia (Also a family name)

Brontë (For the author sisters.)

Piccarda

Simonetta

Lucretia (Can you tell I read a lot about the Italian Renaissance)

Romy/Roamy

Paget (Like the actor from Criminal Minds.)

Thaïs (This was too similar to another family member’s name)

Tula (Fandom alert this was a character from Dimension 20: Burrow’s End)

Zoah

Bryony

Ardis (I actually have an acquaintance named this but it’s SUCH a cool one, and a shorter alternative to Artemis.)

Wynne (Whoops! My in-laws named their dog this :))

Winona

Etta

Eulalie

Gwynedd (Too similar to the name of a family member)

Nadine

Saryn

[wraithdance]

The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Note: F!Reader, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use

Content warning: terrible grasp of british-isms, mention of sick parent (cancer), rich mom trope hehe, no Kyle in this one, but!! we are finally at the precipice of the shenanigans and he will be in every chapter here on! extra long as I am begging for forgiveness :')

Chapter Four (2/2): There's a Conspiracy Afoot

An hour before noon finds you outside of Aimee Montclair’s office shifting your weight from side to side.

Your knees crack a little still from the strain you put on them earlier in the morning. Truthfully, you’d love nothing more than to scuttle away to safety, but Estelle has already threatened to take back her gift to you for your upcoming birthday should your cowardice win out.

If she hadn’t dropped unsubtle hints of there being a slight chance she’d purchased something off your ‘sell your kidney for’ wish-list, you wouldn’t bother. 

(The wench knew you hated sensible gifts with a vehemence. No one liked socks or toasters upon becoming a year closer to death, no matter what they say.)

Still, you really hated coming to see Aimee. More than you hated squirrels or little inconveniences like getting crumbs in intimate crevices or staining your brand new white shirt.

(You are unfortunately prone to both.)

The chiffon blouse you wore to work today is no match for the lobby’s frigid temperatures of the top floor space. You’d been standing around for the better part of fifteen minutes just staring at the abstract photos and pristine gray decor, finding yourself slowly slipping into melancholy.

Who would purposely design such a large space to be so depressing?

You’d been thinking to yourself that you were right to change your furniture out, angry doorman be damned. Nothing good came out of monochrome.

Aimee's assistant clicks away at his keyboard, occasionally cutting his eyes at you from behind circular frames that are too small for his angular face. The wire spectacles cut into the bridge of his nose, deepening the lines already present from his scowl.

“You may have a seat, she’ll let me know when she’s ready for you.” The reedy voiced man says drolly.

When you startle at his sudden speech he waves his free hand towards the uninviting bench by Aimee’s office doors. His tone makes you feel like a pest, and there’s nothing more that you hate than feeling like a huge inconvenience for just existing.

When he huffs for the umpteenth time your eye twitches. 

In another setting you’d say something vitriolic about his nasty tone, but you do somewhat fear the wrath of your employer. So, you instead shuffle quietly to the pointed out bench with clenched fists at your side. 

Several more silent minutes go by when you can’t stand the quiet a second longer, lest you run screaming from the building. Plastering on a smile you shift on the hard chaise, that even the cushion of your ass is no match for, to bend forward and catch the eye of the assistant.

“Has she said anything yet?” you ask hopefully.

He rolls his eyes and gives you a noncommittal answer that mostly sounds like a negative. Unperturbed, you try at least to make conversation.

“Has anyone ever told you, you look like a British Stanley Tucci?”

Aimee’s assistant stops fiddling with his phone to openly glare at you. “What?”

You try to smile wider hoping to disarm him but he glares deep enough for wrinkles to appear on his shiny bald head. Oh dear, he was much too young for that to be happening, maybe you should recommend your dermatologist's number…

“I asked if anyone told you that you look like a British Stanley Tu-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Aimee is ready for you now.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “You just said she wasn’t available yet. Like literally less than 30 seconds ago, you didn’t even check anything, I saw you!”

Aimee’s assistant shrugs and tells you that you can go in before ignoring you for his desktop monitor. You can’t help the sneer that overtakes your face or the audible suck of your teeth. 

You had just been lying to be polite! 

There was no way Stanley Tucci could ever be compared to such a rude, sniveling little man in an awful tweed vest! With an angry pep to your step you utter out a snide thank you and swing open Aimee’s door with a little more force than necessary. 

Aimee looks up from her calendar with pursed lips that freezes you in your steps.

You stare at each other for several moments before Aimee’s thin brow quirks. She sets aside her pen and glasses to lean back in her seat, motioning you closer. 

“Close the door and have a seat, please.” 

Hesitantly, you do as she asks and inch to the proffered seat, perching as demurely on the edge as you can manage. One never knew when they needed to make a run for it and all. You smile as brightly as you can waiting for her to speak.

Aimee watches you with shrewd eyes and sighs. “I heard from my son regarding your choice to end the engagement.”

Your smile drops immediately and your face contorts into a scowl against your will. Leave it to Hugo Montclair to be such a bloody coward to cheat then lie to his mommy!

“What do you mean by my choice?!” you squawk indignantly.

You’re unable to stop yourself from opening your mouth to say awful things about her pride and joy, but Aimee lifts a hand up to stop you. Your jaw closes with an audible click but you’re sure steam is visibly coming out of your ears. 

Forget the doorman or Kyle, your ex fiance would be receiving the punch in the face he deserved, witnesses be damned! (Blue knew the procedures should you end up on the wrong side of the law after all.)

Despite the dark energy you’re channeling, Aimee continues on. 

“I’m aware of my son’s… dalliance with the Sinclair girl and I plan to have a discussion with his father to address it.”

“Oh?” Primly you sniff and roll your shoulder’s back as you attempt to hide your smirk.

The Montclair patriarch was a point of contention for Hugo, as his father was immeasurably scarier than his wife and far less doting of Hugo’s… laissez faire lifestyle. You wish you could be a fly on the wall when he learns of his son’s indiscretions, it would probably lead to the elder Frenchman's notorious temper. 

You’d been subjected to more than one ruined dinner party eating hor d'oeuvres and watching chaos reign down as the graying man shouted down the rooftops and threw furniture out of dissatisfaction.

You’re snickering under your breath evilly, it’s what the posh little cretin deserved! When Aimee frowns you plaster back on a smile.

“Thank you, Aimee. I was truly heartbroken about Hugo’s decision. It means a lot to me that you’ll speak to him about the harm he caused, truly.” placing a hand over your heart you give her your best doe eyed look. 

(it’s one you’d practiced in the mirror a few times to get the cafeteria lady who had a crush on you to give you an extra portion whenever you stopped by to see mum.)

Aimee leans farther back into her chair and taps her finger against the armrest, studying the hand you clasp over your bosom in thought.

 “Good, I want you to continue the engagement.”

A record scratches in your mind because surely you’ve misheard. You cock your head in her direction, clasping your hand behind your ear and squint. “Hm, I’m sorry ma’am, what was that?”

Aimee sighs and stands, circling around the ornate desk. You scramble as much as your weight back against the armchair when she stops to lean on her desk in front of you. She clasps her hands in front of her, the tennis bracelet worth more than your flat glints in the natural light.

“I encouraged you to pursue my son for a reason.” She gives you a knowing look that shuts you up before you could mention you had not pursued her son in the least. 

Hugo had just been aggressively thrusted onto you at every company party or assignment until you gave in. You hadn’t even been proposed to! Hugo had just shown up to work with an engagement ring the size of your forehead after a year. 

You’d been quietly reeling from shock (and some horror) as his mother watched on while he slid the shiny rock over your knuckles. You’d barely gotten your wits about you before she was asking for updates on your latest case.  

“I need someone who can keep my son in line and not run this firm into the ground when I step down. Despite your shortcomings and background, I still believe you are the best person for the job.” She waits for your uncontrollable range of expressions to settle before gesturing for you to speak your mind. 

“Sorry ma’am, uh a few teensy little questions; Are you saying you plan on me taking over when you leave? Actually, what exactly do you mean despite my shortcomings and background? And honestly it’s probably more important, but did Hugo not tell you that Maddie is pregnant?” 

You’re aware you sound a bit belligerent near the end and you know it’s a bit unbecoming but, seriously? 

Aimee’s expressions darkens in a way that makes your throat constrict. The older woman’s scowl could rival your mother’s. If she looked down her nose a bit more and started insulting your wardrobe in a thick accent you might curl up into a ball and cry.

“I’m very aware of the girl’s unfortunate condition, I plan to see to it that it’s dealt with. As for your other questions, you've worked for me for the last what? Four years, yes?”

You nod cautiously, still rolling around her comment ‘of dealing with Maddie’s condition.’ You’re concerned and in the midst of questioning her further when she lifts a hand once more with a sharp look.

“Siggy, I am aware you lied on your CV when you interviewed with us. About your attendance at Cambridge.”

A glacial chill dances down your spine like a cold knife, serrated and quick. You're straightening in the chair quickly and putting on your best poker face. “Respectfully ma’am, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t lie about attending Cambridge.”

Aimee chuckles, giving you a pitying look that says ‘silly girl.’ Frankly, it makes you a bit murderous.

“I never said that you didn’t attend, I know you did. I spoke to several of your professors before I hired you.” she waves her hand in the air “A Mr. Anyadike had nothing but excellent things to say about you.”

Your jaw clenches tight enough you can feel your molars squeak.

“Yes, he was my ethics and public law professor.” you grind your teeth, “ I’m sorry, he wasn’t on my references, is it usual to personally speak to all of your employees' educators or was that something you just did for me?”

She spears you with an unimpressed look, but you don’t back down, holding your own against her crystalline gaze. Eventually, Aimee sighs deeply, looking off to the floor to ceiling windows catty-corner from where you’re seated.

“I was impressed by your academic resume. Despite growing up in one of the worst council houses in Peckham, you still managed to make quite the name for yourself. I pulled some favors with a colleague and I sat in on a few of your mock trials. I knew you’d be a damn good lawyer with the right tools.” she pauses to look at you, you suppose expecting to see you preening at the compliment.

Maybe if several things about her statement hadn’t made you sick to your stomach, you would have the mind to perk up like a bloody peacock. 

You were not ashamed of where you'd grown up, but you’d taken painstaking measures to avoid the added prejudices of being from the ‘wrong’ neighborhood while in Uni. Your parents' split had devastated the already limited finances and for a while your mothers family had refused to provide any support. 

It’s why the decision to relocate you and your mother to housing she could maintain on her humble nursing budget was made, while your father went back to America to find guaranteed work.

You’d gone as far as to adopt the accent and speech habits of your upper echelon uni peers, so far from the lilt that gave away your first generation and South London origins. It helped with some of the ostracization in your undergrad and continued to determine the treatment you experienced in and out of court.

But how the hell could Aimee know about any of that?

As if hearing your spiraling thoughts Aimee continues, pacing slowly. “When you interviewed with us you said you’d completed your studies at Cambridge, but that wasn’t exactly true was it?” The question is rhetorical and she doesn’t wait for your reply.

“You took a leave of absence when your mother was diagnosed with cancer. Didn’t complete the degree until months after you started with us.” 

She gives you a look, daring you to lie. 

Your breathing is stuttered as you try to think straight, chest heaving in mounting panic and palms sweating. She was right. You had frantically taken the final courses needed for your degree well into your employment. 

At the time, you’d thought it was a blessing how flexible the hours were for the position. You were ecstatic that you would be able to finish the stupid Master of Law programme online. You’d taken the train back and forth from London for your final mock trials, using the time to study and work on litigation notes.

Aimee’s smug expression tells you she knew that already.

“If you were aware that I didn’t finish the course, why did you hire me?” you ask finally, with a shaky breath. Aimee scoffs. 

“Because you desperately needed the income to support the procedures not covered in your mother’s NHS treatment and I needed a protege willing to do whatever it took to win.” She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Like, you were ridiculous to feel blindsided by the fact the career you cried and wrote increasingly desperate manifestations for, happened because you were a means to an end willing to play dirty. 

Aimee, the viper she’d shown herself to be, does not seem to care for your emotional spiral though, not in the least bit. 

“You’re a slacker, Siggy and needlessly dramatic. But you’re a brilliant lawyer and if you spend the time you use to shirk your duties on important things, you can go far. So yes, to answer your first question, I am thinking of your future here and I’d like it if I could continue to do so. ” Aimee says, pushing the knife in deeper.

For once in your life you're silent. 

You realize you’re stuck in place, ripping into the sides of the chair with the sharp tips of your stiletto manicure as the reality of the situation slams into you like heavy pillars. You’d thought you were covering your arse, but that was obviously not the case. You’re scared to know just how much Aimee knew about you and just how she gained the information. 

Somehow through it all you can’t help but think this was all fucking Hugo’s fault.

While you sit stunned there’s a knock on Aimee’s door. She voices out a blase call to enter. Her assistant pops his head in letting her know her next appointment was waiting. Aimee nods and turns to you considering your stone form. She pats the fleshy upper portion of your arm and makes her way back behind her desk. 

“You may leave.” she looks up, “Think about what I said, Hugo and the girl should not be an issue for much longer and I can guarantee continuing the engagement will be worth your while.”

You don’t reply, instead rising on wobbling legs. Numbly you shuffle to the door, barely cognizant of your surroundings, much less focused on the irritating look on Aimee’s assistant's face. Aimee calls your name and you turn.

“Keep what we talked about under wraps, will you? I expect to hear an answer from you soon.”

Her lithe form standing like a sentry behind her desk in her white pantsuit is the last thing you see before the door is closed in your face.

Le Misa’s is far less crowded than you expected it to be on a sunny afternoon.

If you weren’t still reeling from your conversation with Aimee you think you’d be a little more concerned. You’re absently stirring the straw in your water cup waiting for Estelle to arrive after her meeting. 

Your eye had twitched earlier reading the odd text Vi sent you, vaguely stating she couldn’t make yet another hen session. You were a bit worried about her so you make a mental note to check in later.

Under your lashes you observe the woman across the table from you. Blue had arrived promptly at the time you’d discussed and had been peeved per usual at your tardiness (which really could exactly three minutes late count towards tardiness?)

She’d grumbled about having time to grade papers that you teased her for. Blue had still been incensed and taken up scrolling on her phone, ignoring you petulantly. 

With a sigh you try your best to capture her attention. “Blue dear, am I dramatic?”

She doesn’t look up. “Yes.”

Your mouth twists into a firm line unamused by the quick response from the younger south asian woman. 

“Rude! Why are you saying yes so quickly?”

Blue’s eyes meet yours across your usual table at Le Misa’s. She takes one long look at you and snorts before continuing to tap her straw against her water glass like a drum. You kick her under the table which earns you a dark scowl. You return it with one of your own, using your best friends forever telepathy to threaten her if she refused to answer you.

Blue rolls her eyes.

“I said yes because you are dramatic, my beautifully dramatic friend.”

The gasp of offense you let out is on the theatrical side. Blue still seems perfectly content to ignore you though, continuing to tap away as if she were performing one handed. 

You kiss your teeth. What a rude little thing! 

Lying in wait you snatch her impromptu drum stick with lightning quick reflexes. When she moves to take it back you twist to the side to keep it out of reach, close to your bosom. Blue looks considerate like she may very well attempt to wrestle you for it before she seems to change her mind.

She mumbles something about needing to burn her hands if she accidentally copped a feel that makes you frown. 

“What kind of friend are you, you were supposed to say no! Take it back.”

The criminally well dressed woman flaps her hands your way perusing whatever thing has her attention on her phone. “Well I didn’t and I don’t think you’re allowed to force my hand like that to change my mind.”

You stick your tongue at her childishly and she returns the gesture with equal amounts of flare.

“Take it back, there’s no way I’m dramatic!”

Blue sighs and uncrosses her legs to shift her form towards you. With softened eyes she reaches across the table to grasp your hands in hers. Then pinches the backs of them hard enough to make you yelp aloud, the sound garners the attention of the tables around you. 

“Siggy, my love I’ve known you since I was five. You are so needlessly dramatic and always have been. Do you not remember that time you asked me to give you your last rites because you thought you were dying of cholera?”

Still rubbing the flesh of your aching hands you hiss at her. “Yes you ninny! Because you didn’t tell me Micah Elliot's disgusting dog drank out of my fizzy drink when I wasn’t looking!”

Blue looks like she wants to argue but shrugs her shoulders as if to say ‘touche’.  

“Fine, I’ll give you that, but you are still dramatic! I mean you’re hellbent on having a child because your mother wants one from you. If that’s not dramatic, I don't know what is.” 

“Blue,” you start carefully, “I’m going to stab you with this fork, I said that out of a moment of frustration why would you bring that up!”

Blue gives you a look down her nose that you loathe because she’s not even wearing glasses so the effect isn’t the same, it’s just judgmental!

“Oh, don’t look at me like that you traitor, you’re being very cruel in my time of need.”

“Says the dramatic.” Blue mumbles under her breath.

You are about to boo the sister of your heart, (or commit a petty act of retaliation) when Estelle shows up harried and knocking into things with her gargantuan tote.

You wait for the chronically ultra late girl (and whatever body she carts around in her bag) to settle and give Blue a cheery greeting before asking her the same question.

“Stells,” you start with a saccharine smile, “am I dramatic?”

“Am I French?” She says dryly in return. Blue outright bursts into chuckles that she tries to cover with her hand.

You frown in confusion, “What? Yes you’re French what does-“

Estelle pretends to be preoccupied with the menu avoiding your eyes. It clicks only seconds after.

“Estelle! Don’t be rude, you know I’m terrible at discerning sarcasm!” 

Much like Blue, Estelle gives you a shrug in return and instead preoccupies herself with picking imperceptible lint off her blouse.

You clear your throat loudly, forcing the attention of your traitorous friends back on you with irritation.

“If I were to die you both would be very sorry for being cruel to me, you know.” 

Your heartless friends groan in unison that starts you all bickering. Having enough of the teasing from the clucking hens you call your friends, you rap the table quickly to interrupt. You get accusations of being a rude harlot but at least they take the hint and quiet down some.

“Enough, let’s get this show on the road. I need to tell you what happened with Hugo. I swear the universe has it out for me!”

Blue huffs and quirks her mouth in disgust in the familiar way that's always made you a bit envious, you’ve yet to master the gesture, only managing to look like you were having a stroke.

“You mean the chihuahua?” Blue scoffs, “I’m dying to hear more about this farce of a wedding you insist on putting on. Have you even tried to get out of this like you said you would?”

You give her your best deadpan expression, whilst Estelle looks off like she’s thinking of floating away into the clouds to avoid the impeding argument.

“You haven’t been listening to the messages I sent in the group-chat have you?”

Blue doesn’t look even a little contrite. “Of course not, Siggy. You send multiple texts a day when I'm with students. I figured you’d tell me the next time you came over. What?”

Blue looks at the face you make and Estelle’s sinking into her chair.

“Hugo and I are not together any longer,” you drawl out flatly “and I think his mother just threatened my career to be honest.”

That gets a jolt of shock out of both ladies and normally you would feel like a queen holding court as you presented the shocking escapades of your life over tea.

But instead as you detail what was the last four days of your life and the questionable meeting from this morning you feel a bit ill.

Blue had threatened to slap Maddie for you which you thought was very kind considering she was such a goodie two shoes, but she'd gone quiet when you told her of Maddie's pregnancy.

Then quieter when you'd recapped the visit with your mother and Aimee's revelation. Estelle is the first to break her silence when you’ve finally finished recapping the entire bloody scenario.

“Babe, are you serious? Did she really say she’d fire you if you didn’t get back on with Hugo?”

Your snort is unladylike and whip quick, “She of course didn’t outright say it but she might as well have slapped down a marriage certificate for me to sign in her office. She told me not to say a single word but you know…”

“You’re terrible with secrets.” Estelle nods in understanding.

You scowl at her because yes, but that wasn’t what you were going to say.  Blue understands what you mean to say and sits back in her chair with crossed arms and eyes closed nearly in slits.

“It’s against your nature to be bullied or quiet about unfairness. What do you plan to do?” 

The air goes out of you as you sigh and glance around. You really needed a sweet before you even thought about considering your very limited options. Showing how well she knows you, Blue hums and stands from the table. 

“I’m going to pop into the inside to see if we can get some service.” 

Estelle blinks and looks around the space, before checking her watch with a furrowed brow. “You know what, it’s odd, they're usually on top of things whenever we pop by. We’ve been sitting here for at least twenty minutes.”

That gets your own lips pursed. It was actually very, very odd.

You take another look at the outdoor dining area and notice that there really was an unusually small amount of patrons for a day like today. The flowers within the trellis separating the outdoor seating from the street look limp and the complimentary pot of tea had been lukewarm when you received it earlier.

You hadn’t realized when you sat down but the cute swan shaped napkin that normally sat in the middle of your saucer was not present. It was easily the one feature of Le Misa’s that had given you constant entertainment over the many years, yet?

The napkin was just… flat. Not even stark white per the norm.

Estelle and Blue seem to take note of the same as you and wear similar expressions of concern. Blue excuses herself to go inside, skirting past empty tables and chairs.

Estelle hums and reaches for her menu. “Siggy, have you figured out what you want to do for your birthday?”

The groan you let out requires you to throw your head back to the sky and stamp your feet under the table in order to fully articulate the actual frustration you have. Estelle of course pays you no mind besides laughing at your distress.

“No, I haven’t thought any more about it. Hugo, curses to his name may he be plagued by locusts and what now, promised me tickets to a lounge show or a trip but we see how that’s gone.”

Estelle reaches over and squeezes your hand in support. “Don’t worry if you can’t think of anything we can always move up our annual hen night.”

That’s honestly what you were afraid of. You didn’t want to spend the day where you officially failed the checklist for your life by daring to grow older than the age deadline set since, to get uncomfortably sloshed. You knew yourself well enough to know a public crying fit would be inevitable. So giving Estelle a tight smile you are planning to frantically come up with some plans in the next three weeks before your birthday, that are hopefully not nearly as sad.

You’re about to thank her for her offer when Estelle’s surprised curse fills the air.

“What Stells, what is it? Did you forget to blink again? I think I have eye drops in my purse, one second.” Estelle shoots you a venomous look and swats at your hand when you reach for your bag. 

“No, that only happened one time!” she spits out a command for you to ‘laisse tomber’ when you go to remind her that it was at least three times. (Usually when she was ogling some future romantic prey she’s planning to sink her teeth into.)

Estelle shoves her menu into your face, “Look at the menu you absolute broomstick. They’ve crossed out the crepes!”

Your eyes cross a bit trying to see what she shows you, eventually you shove the laminated sheet away from you and pick up your own menu and squint.

You’re trailing your eyes across the brunch options to see that Estelle is right, the crepes and several other options are now crossed off. You’re flipping the menu to the back for the desserts to confirm the worst. 

“Estelle darling, I think I’m going to scream they-”

“They’ve discontinued the lavender cakes.” Blue appears to stand behind her chair with the disposition of a doctor with terrible news. Or the Grim Reaper.

“What?!” Your gasp of horror sucks out all of the breath available in your lung capacity. When you choke on your breath Estelle has to pat your back. 

“Careful Siggy, you know you’re not good at breathing and talking.” Blue snarks pettily, earning a glare from you and a muffled laugh from Estelle.

“Lucky you, I’m too preoccupied to dignify that with a response, you terror. Take a look at your menu, not only have half the cakes gone missing, so have at least a majority of the specials! It’s just like I said, someone in the universe wants me dead!”

Blue frowns too caught up in her own confusion to tell you not to be facetious. “We’ve been coming here since we were in secondary, the menu hasn’t changed once. Plus, I asked and we now have to go in for service because they’re short staffed apparently.”

Estelle tuts uninterestedly, “To be honest I didn’t really like the cakes very much and I guess it’s fine about the crepes, I’m always here for the bread-” Estelle cuts herself off when she squints at the menu once more.

 It’s not long before she’s cursing and flapping the menu in the air as if it were the throat of the culprit responsible.

You cross your arms across your chest and narrow your eyes in thought. 

“Exactly my French friend, there is a conspiracy afoot and we need to get to the bottom of it.”

*laisse tomber - drop it/leave it alone

A/N: I have no excuse for the tardiness, the brain just was not braining sorry lmao. nonetheless next chapter we are finally in the thick of it. I'm so excited to hear the yelling and see the pitchforks! remember to feed your local pterodactyl by sharing your thoughts and reblogging on the reblog website!

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[onestormeynight]

Sam And Catarina

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this, Teo?" Sam asked his son over breakfast. "It's okay if you have complicated feelings. We can talk about them."

"I don't. It's fine. Mom died, Dad, and she was a lot older than you. She would want you to get out there."

"That's true."

"I don't know that she imagined you'd pick the crazy cat lady, but hey, love is love."

"I don't love her, Teo. It's a single first date."

"Don't bring home any fleas. I hear they're hard to get rid of."

"You are so funny. Absolute barrel of laughs, kid."

"I know, I'm damn funny."

Catarina had recently undergone a makeover. Sam was surprised it was even the same person. She looked significantly less erratic without the cat ears and vintage make-up. Actually, she looked down-right cute.

"You look great," he said when they sat down.

"Thank you. Siggy said the orange went well with my skin tone, but he's biased as you know."

"Siggy is the new cat, yes?"

"Yes, yes." Her chin dipped with each yes, a brilliant smile scrawled across her face. "You remembered!"

"Of course I did. I listen when you speak."

"Yes, yes." Again her chin bobbed. "I like that about you. You are a great listener."

"I like how interesting you are. I'm never bored when you show up."

"People find me weird. You don't seem bothered by that."

Sam shrugged. "Nothing to be bothered by. I value authenticity."

"I am weird, you know. I embrace it."

"I was a loser my entire high school career. Frankly until I met my wife and cleaned up my life for us. Weird feels more comfortable."

Catarina gave a tinkling giggle that wrinkled her nose in the cutest of ways. "Do you want to dance? Let's go dance."

"I'd like to see you again," Sam said when they were parting ways. "I had a great time with you."

"I'll have to check our schedules, but I think we could do that."

Catarina shared exactly one trait with Billie; they were both comfortable in the authenticity of themselves. After all the years he'd spent hiding from his pain and the truth of the mess that was inside, there was something freeing about being around someone who wasn't afraid to be messy out loud.

((prev)) ((next))

[ayumitsuu]

[ FE4 Character Impressions 9 - I draw want I want 😎 ]

I thought #8 was the last one, but Gen 2 have a severe lack of WAVY HAIR SUPREMACY, so here were are. 💁‍♀️

- Poor Kurth, you read about how he’s pretty much a genius, but he doesn’t get to do anything u_u;

- Azmur sucks (ye, I said it), I refuse to draw him

- Febail’s fine but I really wanted a beautiful blond braid-bearing boy with a bow as Brigid’s son, with matching blue hair ties with Patty

- I love drawing Byron, because he’s very close to old Hector with grey hair, also because Byron is the best 😤

- when Siggy had that touching moment where he said Lahna was like a mom, I immediately shipped it ;’D (Byron x Lahna)

- no wonder everyone wanted Arvis for emperor, Azmur sucked, Kurth got hit by the plot hammer, man’s got it all: brains, power, and looks (pretty hot amirite? ❤️‍🔥 …too soon? 🤪)

- headcanon that Gen 2 Arvis has the worst eye bags

- Gen 1 Travant was a ladykiller (literally and metaphorically), just look at the smirk on his portrait 😏

- so I thought I’d hate Travant irrevocably after he killed my fav couple, took their daughter, and pretended to be her real dad… but I was wrong. I still don’t really understand how I feel about him. He can’t be forgiven, and yet… I don’t hate him 🫣 FE4 is wild, man…

- one thing I really like about Travant is how smart he is, intelligent enemies that are calculating and don’t underestimate you are the most terrifying

Travant: “WORM.”

Me: hehe, “Wyrm.” *gets impaled by Gungnir*

Look how similar these bad boys are. I swear they were swapping hair care tips in their younger days.

[psystirene]

rain world hug headcanons ig???

ok I can't find it anymore but I saw a post about which slug was best for hugging (saint or gourmand) and it made me want to make this. so uhm enjoy i guess

This isn't meant for any selfship reasons or whatever, but if you wanna see it that way for FP and NSH then. I understand (I LOVE NSH)

Transcript under Read More just in case my handwriting sucks! Also a bit extra cause whatever

Pebbles: Will whine about it, starts sobbing and refuses to let go (doesn't want anyone seeing him bawl + emotionally repressed)

Spearmaster: Hasn't hugged anyone but Seven Red Suns, will do nothing but appreciates it, sharp. (Spearmaster has had a stressful and sheltered life. overall likes affection but wouldn't know how to deal with it so you know)

Enot: Slimy but soft, warm?? clingy, might bite you (Enot is a little weirdo. I think they would be a good scug to cuddle with if you don't mind the whole gooey thing)

Arti: Actually awesome, her fur is bristly though, feels safe :) (Artificer would actually give great hugs, would feel comforting and protective (???). MOM HUGS)

NSH: Great in theory but would be so goofy about it, unless whoever they're hugging is really upset. Clothes giver btw (It takes a lot to get Siggy to take anything seriously and they would just be silly about it. Clothes giver thing speaks for itself)

Scav King: I don't know how you ended up here- Would be hesitant. Then scav group hug, that or the whole tribe stares at you with potentially violent intent (honestly didn't know who else to put here and I thought it would be funny if scavs had like. some sort of like, "huddling for warmth" instinct (??), hence, hug one scav, and end up in a sleep pile)

[on-a-mechtechnicality]

Idol

The morning sun illuminated the DropShips towering over the encampment and Sigrid was making her way ‘home’. The mess tent was disappearing behind her and the sounds of the camp faded along with it to be replaced by the din of people working around the towering vessels.

She boarded, finding herself in the small human-sized corridors that made the ship feel almost cramped. The feeling didn’t last as she soon found herself face to face with the cavern that was the MechLab. It looked big from up in the overlook, where she could see the entire area, but from here on ground level she didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.

Every single Bay was lit up and most had ‘Techs working on repairing the damaged machines inside. Despite this, one of them seemed cloaked in shadow. No light reflected onto the walkway in front, and from where she just entered she couldn’t see into the Bay.

The moment she could though, it all made sense.

Sigrid blinked.

Siggy opened her eyes and bounced to the mirror. In it she saw a girl with a great big mop of unruly red hair. She sat down and brushed and brushed and brushed, and then started braiding, just like Mom had showed her. Each strand meticulously on display.

Behind her on the wall hung her dream. On the left of the twin posters an impressive looking ‘Mech stepped out of a blazing inferno. Legs bending backwards, striding resolutely forward with two arms and great big rocket pods on its shoulders.

Beside it was a much more sedate but much more interesting dream. The same ‘Mech, now laid out in excruciating detail in an exploded technical view. Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, she looked over the poster to read all the things she read a thousand times. Where the actuators were, where the sensors were, every single line on the diagram committed to memory, familiar and comforting.

And then she blinked again.

In front of her, black as a moonless night, stood her dream. A towering and proud machine, dormant but steadfast. Almost… alive.

The engineering on the foot in front of her was masterful, if she looked close enough she could see every piece of articulation, not a rivet out of place despite the well-worn look. Her eyes drifted from the trifold feet to the massive calf actuators and then further up. To the upper legs, the sleek torso and the arm actuators ending in dual hardpoints.

She couldn’t see the missile banks, but she knew them. She could see every familiar component, every single caption from her posters on Utrecht.

It didn’t just live up to her expectations, this machine exceeded it.

Blink. Work to do.

Sigrid synced her tablet with the docket and looked over her assigned tasks.

MechTech: Sigrid Guntran Initial assignment: Timber Wolf ‘Death Knell’ Bay: 8 Work order:  right torso; replace armor plating right torso; general maintenance Full systems check Notes: Sigrid, sorry to put this on ya last minute, but I know you can do it! I’m trying to keep low so the MedTechs don’t get me. -Karrie

She looked down at her tablet, and then up at her dream. Part of her wondered if this was real, and another part supplied that she was currently working on an SLDF DropShip, deep in the Rimward periphery, on a hostile planet, under the command of a beautiful avian woman so old that the show she was on with the other Clan totem warriors – who were also here – was considered a historical record.

Working on an actual Timber Wolf didn’t seem so odd anymore.

She climbed up to the catwalk and found the Bay controls. From up here she could see the majesty that was the Timber Wolf from its rear angles, a dark void contrasted against the bright industrial lighting of the MechLab. She knew every angle, every single curve of the machine’s panelling by heart.

As the platform on the ‘Mech’s right side was lowering into position, she moved around to follow it. Panning down from the side she could see where the torso armor had taken the hits. Large chunks were warped or missing, open wounds showing the delicate internals that thankfully seemed to be in good shape. How good a shape she would have to find out later. Right now, the armor needed to come off.

She knew the automated arms could be more efficient, but they weren’t as accurate as handheld power tools. A machine of this caliber deserved those. She let the winch above her come down. Before connecting the straps onto the armor she placed a hand on the wounded ‘Mech.

“We’ll get you fixed up, don’t you worry.”

She hooked the straps to the attachment points in the armor and tensioned the lines. Bit by bit she carefully detached the panel until only the tension from above held them in place. Then it was just a light pull until it started moving.

She slowly guided the crane to move the panel out of the way and safely to the floor level of the Bay, out of the way of the walkway. A tap or two on her tablet flagged it for repairs. A forklift would be along soon.

With the panel out of the way she could see the underlying internals, sleek steel pipes contrasting harshly and beautifully against the black of the surrounding panels. And she knew them.

She knew the coolant from the lubricant from the hydraulics from the electronics at a glance, the labels only confirming what she already knew. Every conduit flowed like a symphony around the frame.

Around the places the armour had been gauged, she looked a little closer. Signs of damage would be hard to spot among the labyrinth of angles, but a visual inspection was part of the troubleshooting process. Her eyes danced over each line, following them from one end of the panel gap to where they snaked back into the ‘Mech’s interior.

All looked clear and secure, Clan engineering ensuring that even in the event of armor breach, the primary systems would not be easy to take out. Let alone the secondary and tertiary.

The systems looked undamaged, so she let the platform carry her down, just in time to see the panel being driven to the manufacturing wing. She followed along, not minding that she couldn’t keep up with the forklift. It’d give them some time to offload before she showed up. The difference in time between walking and driving was significant when dealing with this much space. Sigrid enjoyed the walks though, the Bay in operation was a soothing cacophony of all the different tools interacting with every material under the sun.

The armor repair itself was repetition more than anything. Identify a damaged subpanel. Remove the damaged subpanel. Find a suitable sized replacement. Shape the replacement. Attach the replacement. Repeat.

The capstone was the painting. It needed to match the existing color scheme, and match it well. Fresh paint also looked different from worn paint, but that was nothing they couldn’t handle. In the brochure it had never said that being an artist was part of being a MechTech, but the surprise had been a pleasant one.

The paint fresh but no longer wet, she followed the forklift back to Bay 8. It was already hoisted up and ready to be placed. She considered the automated tools, but for installation the accuracy was even more important than for removal, and handheld tools were king.

The work was honestly calming to Sigrid, alone up on the platform, grafting new skin onto the wounded ‘Mech in front of her. Bit by bit she circled around the edge of the panel until everything looked like she never touched it at all.

She climbed back onto the catwalk where her equipment was stored. She took out her neurohelmet and opened the compartment on her toolkit where she kept her soft tools. She knew them by heart, but looking through them helped remind her which ones she had available should the need arise.

The hop from the catwalk to the top of the Timber Wolf was not a big one. The matte black paint on the armor made it a little harder to judge. What made it really hard to make the jump though, was that Sigrid knew what she was about to do.

She was about to hop on top of a Timber Wolf. She was about to open the latch and lower herself inside. She already knew what it would look like, she knew the view from the cockpit, she knew the exact dimensions of the enclosure.

And that made it all the more daunting.

Gathering her will in her mind and her grip on her neurohelmet, she took the hop.

She was standing on top of a Timber Wolf. She was working on it, it was her work. It was her dream. She unlocked the hatch and allowed herself to slip inside.

Inside the ‘Mech it was quiet. No hum from the reactor, no sound arrived from the outside. There was just Sigrid, trying to calm her breathing, and the terrifying, loving embrace of a dream.

Her mind knew the startup sequence of a ‘Mech. Her fingers danced this dance before. And yet she couldn’t stop trembling as she toggled the first switch.

Bay power to auxiliary generator.

The high-pitched whine of the generator filled the cockpit. It was reassuring, it was terrifying, it was exhilarating.

Flick.

Auxiliary power to emergency lighting.

The lights around her came online. Dim compared to the view through the cockpit, but plenty bright enough to see by.

Auxiliary power to diagnostic systems.

Screens flickered to life. White text flew over a black background as the ‘Mech rose from slumber. Not awake yet, but no longer asleep. Sigrid listened to the whine and the soft clicks performing a symphony of self-tests. The ‘Mech checked its pressures, checked every single one of its connections in a lightning-fast choreography of every system it could access.

The text scrolled by faster than she could read, but she wasn’t looking for text. She was looking for colors. She was looking for the orange that signified a warning, the angry red that signified a fault. Her heartbeat punctuated the soundscape as seconds ticked past.

And then nothing.

No more text flying by, nothing more to focus her attention on. Just a single phrase that was both the best thing she could have read and the most disappointing.

Self-test: 100% Warnings: 0 Errors: 0 System status: OK

No need to diagnose further, it would not be time well spent. It would be time spent with her dream, but that didn’t matter.

She powered down the ‘Mech, returning it to cold and dark status. Ready for when it would be needed again. She picked her neurohelmet from where she set it down and held it in her hands. She stared at the visor.

Reflected in it she could see a woman with red hair in a tight bun, sitting inside the cockpit of a Timber Wolf. Her dream.

She sighed and rotated the helmet around. With trembling hands she placed it on her head.

She wasn’t plugged in.

The ‘Mech was powered down.

She had better things to do.

Siggy closed her eyes. It didn’t matter.

She had her helmet on

Made from an old football helmet, Utrecht Kodiaks logo covered with silver tape

She could see the canopy in front of her

Made from a laundry basket, tipped on its side

She knew exactly where the missile pods were

Two cardboard boxes, placed on the sofa behind her

She was in the cockpit of a Timber Wolf.

She was in the cockpit of a Timber Wolf.

The beat of her heart and the sound of her breath were the only things accompanying her for this moment in time, etching itself into her memory as her visor slowly fogged up without the air circulation connected.

She took off her helmet and held it in her hands, staring into the condensed visor one last time. There was work to be done.

She extracted herself from the cockpit and closed the hatch beneath her.

The hop from the ‘Mech onto the catwalk was both easier and harder than the other way. She landed with a soft impact of her work boots.

She placed her helmet with her toolkit and sat down on the upper catwalk, out of sight of anyone working, staring at her dream.

She raised her tablet. Four taps was all it took.

Work order complete

@jaded-falcon

[cloevr]

the weight of siggy being missing has gotten heavier... yesterday marked 1 month since he disappeared and never came back... we've done everything we can but now as it sets in that i may never see him again my feelings have begun to shift from worry to full on grief

if i would have known that was the last day i would see him i would have never left his side and held him all day.... and it was moms fault but she doesnt even care. they both have poked fun at me for being so hurt by this to them its as if a pet ant died or something theyre like well he was just a cat but he meant so much to me. like he was so special and i was the person he bonded with first when we got him. it really hurts to be honest i keep looking over clips and pictures of him... i keep walking around the house hoping to see him curled up in a basket or a shelf or something. we still have his clean litter box and his treats bag and his cans of wet food and it's hard to look at them because it reminds me. i didnt want to do away with them because he could come back but at this point i think we need to just put them away. maybe donate the cans i dont know

[ironwoman18]

Rather Be - Part 14

Chapter 14: The Manga Con

Anya and Yor went out to walk Bond while Loid cooked dinner. They already have some friends at the dogs’ park and while Anya played with Bond and other dogs, Yor was chatting with the owners.

“Mrs. Forger. I heard Anya loves Bondman so maybe this will be something she would like to go to” said a nice man to Yor, offering a brochure.

“Manga Con?” She read the paper “a convention full of activities, meet and greet with the writers of your favorite manga and even the actors of the most famous TV shows. From Thursday to Sunday” Yor finished reading and looked at her daughter and smiled “thank you very much. I will talk to my husband” 

Then they left and Yor made the wise decision of not telling her, if Anya were a normal child, but sadly she read her mind and knew about the convention and that there might be the voice actor of Bondman and the writer but, as always, she will need to act normal, as normal as she can, to not reveal her power.

Anya bit her tongue all the way to their house and thankfully the food was ready. Loid sent them to wash their hands then started to eat.

Yor was waiting to speak with him without Anya so the pink haired girl had to keep the secret. Bond could tell she was hiding something but maybe he will know later 

The dinner went by as normal as ever and while she brushed her teeth and changed Yor washed the dishes. Then Loid went to read her a story and he joined Yor in the living room.

There Yor made her move. She got out of her purse the brochure.

“Loid, look at this” she handed it to him. “one of the dogs' owners gave it to me when Anya and I walked Bond today” he started to read and with his quick reading ability hw finished in seconds but faked to read a bit longer.

“Manga Con?” He asked, confused “what's that?”

“It's a convention where fans of the manga and anime go to interact, buy stuffs from their favorite manga and there will be events like dressing up as their favorite character and win something” he nodded showing her that he understood, Yor continued “Anya had been a good girl all this month, doing her homework and getting better with her handwriting so maybe we can take her there” she said  looking at his face for any sign of disapproval but he just smiles.

“That's an excellent idea, Yor. I noticed that she is putting an extra effort in her homework and with Grandpa Siggy’s help she's getting better so I like your idea and we can let it clear that we are doing it because of her effort so you understand that, if she works hard then she will have a reward” 

“Exactly! That's what I thought. Like what I did with Yuri. He was doing all his homework and passing his exams so I brought him a new encyclopedia or something he liked” she smiled big remembering her brother's face when she did.

“Amazing, tomorrow we will tell her” he promised and they remained in the living room a bit longer just reading. Yor was happy because of her idea and Loid was proud that she was acting like an actual mom, which was excellent for his mission. That way everyone will never doubt her as a mother.

They went to sleep at eleven and the next morning while having breakfast, they told Anya who had to fake that she didn't know about it but her excitement was real.

At school she told Becky who doesn't seem excited but still was happy about her best friend having fun. Damian was a bit jealous because he knew that his father or mother would never take him to those events. They could say ‘it is too dangerous’ or ‘you should be more mature’. 

He didn't say anything but Anya could read his mind and felt bad for him, she looked at him in a way like saying ‘I’m sorry you have such strict parents’ which made him blush and stopped looking at him.

He still has in his mind what she told him about reading minds. Was she really doing it?... No, she must be faking it.

The days passed and Anya continued her good job so her dad didn't change his mind and Saturday morning arrived.

They had breakfast and left for the convention. The place was full of people wearing costumes or something from their favorite character.

Anya got excited and asked her mom for photos next to Bondman cosplayers, there other shows she liked but Bondman was her main show.

They stopped by a stand and bought a shirt and a pair of Bondman socks. She also got a color book and the manga she couldn't find which were the hotel saga, one that they haven't shown on the anime yet but maybe will be next season, there was also his past before turning into a spy so Anya bought both volumes.

There was a band playing anime covers and she was ready excited when they played her Bondman’s favorite opening.

Yor was happy for Anya and enjoyed it with her, Loid smiled as he watched her so happy. Operation Strix was important but these moments were worth having because those two were his team in order to complete the mission and keeping them happy was a must on his list.

The day finished with a cosplay contest and some words from the voice actor of Bondman which meant the world for Anya who nearly passed out.

They returned back home holding two bags of merchandise and a little girl sleeping in Loid’s arms.

OOooOOooOO

Short and nice. Hope you liked this. I might skip to Halloween or jump straight to New Year’s Eve but I want Yor and Loid to have their first real kiss before that. Maybe an event in between also I might do an AU in the Modern Time using the song Lover as an inspiration. I’m open to suggestions.

[knight-of-flowerss]

vikings

navigation | requests open!

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tags - @thethreeeyed-raven , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

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full length fics

she-bear [in progress]

characters | chapter one | chapter two

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🍂flings of war

[non-un-topo]

The more I hear from my family, the more I feel like I shouldn’t visit them this summer...

Not my sister getting into the divine feminine and divine masculine but in a way like "I know better"

[a-drama-addict]

hello hello! maybe 2, 5, 9, 28 from the Tav asks for Sigrid? 👀

thanks for the ask laya!! im going to implode i love talking abt sigrid

2. Describe their tent setup! What’s on the outside? The inside?

Ohhhfg good one! actually thought about this before; On the outside it would mostly be kept neat, there would be a chair, maybe a couple of towels on the floor. She'd have a little stand for her violin :)

And on the inside it kind of looks like the woman has never seen the word 'comfortable' in a dictionary. No bedroll, literally sleeps on the tent floor. There's a myriad of belongings scattered, sketchbook, weapons, nail files, etc. She dumps everything in there and sleeps like a plank in the center of it.

5. Describe their idle animations!

GIHIHIHIH

While travelling;

A lot of bouncing on the balls of her feet, not in excited way, more nervous if anything

Scratching the back of her head

Scratching her arms

Kicking rocks

In camp;

Picking at her nails/trimming her nails

Sitting in 'meditation' (she's sleeping)

Tuning her violin

Sharpening her blade

9. What’s the significance behind your Tav’s name?

Well! Fun fact, Sigrid is actually her second name! But she can’t remember her first name that well because of The Reasons.

It’s a name given to her by her adoptive family, before Bhaal she was raised by a dwarven couple. Her adoptive mom (Penelope) had a great-great grandmother who was named Sigrid, who had blue eyes. And the correlation of Sigrid’s skin and the eye colour just clicked.

Sigrid remembers her second name because her adoptive father (Fred) called her nicknames based off of that name a lot! (‘Hey Sig’, ‘C’mon Twiggy Siggy!’) ((Sigrid’s ‘real’ name is Helga.))

28. Describe a smell that reminds your Tav of childhood.

Burning wood. Reminds her of fireplaces, home. Sitting in front of it while stories got told, spending time with her parents and sibling, being… normal. When everything was normal and bright.

[poltergeistsoup]

How did Siggy's mom react to being told her daughter barely showed up to school and was a pain for the teachers? Also, despite all that, did she still somehow get good grades?

She certainly did not get good grades— they let her graduate cuz they didn’t want her there any longer than she had to be either. Siggy went to school because she legally had to go, so Siggy’s mom wasn’t really worried about her not being a good student because she felt that she was better off learning from ~experiencing the world~ than sitting in a classroom. Her attitude was “just go and do well enough that they can’t hold you back a grade.”

Siggy had a long leash growing up— for better or for worse since she was mostly just goofing off unsupervised, not so much learning from experience. It also means she’s just not very educated in an academic sense. She’s obviously not like a flat earther or anything— as she got older she still tries to learn things and ask questions and fill in the blanks she missed but no she has not read that book and if you ask her to do long division she’s like “can you just kill me instead”

Her mom was also not big on going to the doctor and they didn’t own a TV and since Siggy became an adult and left to do her own thing, she had tried to convince her mom to join society but she was not interested. Her mom was willing to let her daughter make her own decisions when it came to those things, but she didn’t want to take part.

TL;DR Siggy’s mom was a hippie who believed in letting her daughter make her own decisions, but sometimes it left her with gaps in her experiences when it came to the world she lives in

[randomnameless]

I'm so fucking pissed at this upcoming banner

Jugdral rep must now always include Siggy bcs engage cemented him as the jugdral (fe4) lord

Then Genki!Tailte pretends to be a maid, maybe she's playing or something ? But why the maid outfit...

And then we have the worst unit from the jugdral set, Ayra who somehow ends up with a backpack mercie. No Aidean and Mercie (who might talk about their kid siblings ! Or how they have faith they will reunite with a long lost one), no ethlyn, no Lex who feels out of place, no.

I could have bought a teatime jugdral banner if it has characters from Granvalle or leonster (butler Finn ?) or Augustria, but no.

Despite what the game sold as Isaach's culture, we have... Fucking Ayra.

With a fucking prf Astra (why is even the source material ?) who most likely blows both of her nephews out of water, despite gameplay and lore dicting they should fold her with their pinky because they are the ones with the magic blood (and don't get me started on that shit of a FB between where A!Mareeta supposedly struggles against her as they train because, uh, if A!Mareeta is the endgame (after both games ?) Mareeta, her major Od blood kicked in and she can, just like her dad and Shanan, fold her).

But nooo, I guess tall'n'dark hair'n'broody swordswoman sells, so let's give her another Astra (uwu Supreme Astra) and call it a day.

This sucks and it pisses me so much that this is most likely the only seasonal Fe4 banner we will have, when the other two (dance + scions) was better designed.

Fodlan wise, Lorenz was yeeted away bcs he isn't a cute girl and apparently that's the only important criteria for GD representation and lysithea really needed that fourth alt I guess, Mercie is here bcs it's totally to have the three houses represented (since she can't have meaningful dialogue with Ayra) and Ferdie is welcome.

Even if the Fe16 spam kinds of piss me off, it could have been a full jugdral banner but given their track record, in a full jugdral banner we would have gotten Larcei to make "funny shenanigans with her mom".

Calling it, if this Astra can be foddered, I'm feeding her to Galzus.

(but I suppose it won't bcs uwu pwemium unit uwu, when Mareeta's for some reason could...)

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Hi , i saw your post about the new fandoms and i felt like i had to ask something, who is captivating you to write the most im vikings ?

Im sorry if im being a bother , vikings is one of my fav shows ❤

Much love to you and yours ❤

Honestly, all the characters are very captivating but I think Ragnar, Lagertha, Floki, Helga, Siggy, and Judith have my attention more right now. I plan to write for all the characters but these are the ones I’m fixated more on.

I just generally love Helga and Siggy with my whole heart. I think Judith and Lagertha would be such yan!mom material. Ragnar and Floki are just interesting to think about as yanderes. Honestly though I could talk all day about what I think of all the characters being yanderes.

[louvay]

Oh, that gives me an idea-- how about FE4 moms and the kid they'd bond with the most that isn't theirs? I'd say the dads too but aside from Siggy, Quan, and Eldie, they can be anyone's dad

This ask made me think of how the mothers of Fe4 and their respective daughters generally have the opposite personalities to each other while the reverse is true with their sons (See Ayra and Scathach for instance). Now onto the answers:

Edain and Brigid would bond quite well with their respect nephew and niece. Like I can see Edain pass off Patty’s thievery as just her goofing which reminds of Dew while Febail helps her with taking care of the orphanage in Tirnanog. Meanwhile, Brigid is rather doting of Lana and tries to help Lester with archery.

Silvia and Tailtiu would get along really well with Fee due to their similar personalities with Silvia being shocked that Fee is Erinys’ daughter while with Tailtiu, Fee will try to pry out any embarrassing facts about her son so that Fee can later give Arthur a heart attack.

Ayra and Ced would make great partners when it comes to being the busy bodies in the army. They both plan ahead for any possible obstacles the army might encounter in the future and know how to take care of someone amidst being hunted down (Ayra with Shannan, Ced with the Magi squad).

Siggy would definitely adopt Julia. Like he didn’t mind having the prince of the nation his own kingdom is at war with living within his army and he didn’t care about the curse associated with Deirdre’s kin when he proposed to her.