sunflowersandforgetmenots

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

I miss writing :( i miss feeling satisfied and happy that i finish something instead of being disappointed it's not perfect :(

Sigh.

I'm trying to get back into y'all. I've been updating my non x reader fics on my AO3 more but they're still not as often as I want. This year has been downright... awful for me.

I'm sorry if people have been waiting, but i'll be back eventually

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

Currently going through my second play-through of the game The Cosmic Wheel: Sisterhood and I was inspired to write this poem

…I feel the stars watching me again tonight

Supernovas implode behind my eyelids as I

Curse the pain of eons lost

No one ever tells you how isolating the cosmos can be

An infinity of infinities contained into my 2d perspective

No amount of divination will return to me what I’ve lost

I rend flesh from bone

Rip out all my teeth

Yank out nerves

-the agony is better than the oblivion

I cough up splinters of ribs

Each severed part of me, a distraction

But this can only save me for so long.

Soon the pain becomes a second skin

Even torture loses its appeal when

Eternity is the only horizon…

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

"It's been a while since I've been the centre of attention."

"How did it feel?"

Assassin's Creed Valhalla

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

I’ve never had a loss like this before those Deaths were  sudden  and over immediately. both planned at a hospital.  This loss consists of constant death, the accumulation of grief and longing crawling black mold along the walls, (please let me breathe) hazardous Quarantined  Spores choking the lungs  Will this rot ever be cleansed? my mouth aches with the sweet smell, teeth barely hanging onto the gums, desperate To you, we have been, will be, were, are: the moth flies Icarus into the kitchen bulbs the mouse flails glue stuck in the walls the frog flops drowning in the pool drain you claim to be a hound scratching at the door, but you run tail-between-legs at the first sound of an intruder No one ever wants the bird at their feet you have left  A taste on the tongue A lump in the throat A pit in the stomach This death is chronic An ouroboros of your doing Leave the fowl with the neck  desecrated by your teeth    in the mailbox

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

Hey guys! I hate to post this again, but i was able to take out most of my rent, but now i'm negative in my bank account, and I still have bills and groceries to buy. Luckily im getting my job back soon, but im not sure when, and i wouldnt be paid for another good bit.

PLEASE help in anyway you can. I know there are far more pressing things going on but I'm just at the point for begging.

Thank you!!

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

Pride season is approaching and if I hear ANYONE speak poorly of bisexual women with boyfriends/husbands I’ll pop all your tires okay thx for listeninggg <3

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

EVERYONE GO CONGRATULATE THIS BEAUTIFUL PERSON NOW OR I WILL CRUSH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE GOT HER FUCKING DEGREE BITCHES LETS GOOOOOOO

finished: theoretical physics degree

commence: a fucking coma

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

rb and respond with your top unromanceable video game character/s that you think should have been romanceable

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

This is me! I might do some works for everyone who helps!

Hey everyone! I'm struggling right now due to a temporary situation in which I have basically lost my job because of allergies (i work outdoors as an archeologist). ANY MONEY HELPS. This is my last resort. I live in Louisiana and it is getting hot with no AC in my car.

https://gofund.me/d05294c5

100/600

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

Imagine a visit to a frigidarium with Eivor. A hidden gem of Roman architecture, somehow kept pristine over the centuries, its cool waters glistening with jade and teal in the faint torchlight from reflections of the mosaic underneath.

She submerges herself in the pool with ease - she once swam amongst glaciers, and this is no feat by comparison - until all but her head and shoulders disappear into the water. Grinning, she beckons you forth. There's a laugh, rich and gravelly, as you lower yourself in to your knees with a shriek, its heartiness serving as your only source of warmth.

Eivor offers you her hand. The corners of her eyes are creased with amusement, her tone lilted as she promises you that it's easier to take the plunge and be done with it. She'll pull you in if you take it, no doubt. But your lover would not bring you to this bath to torture you, thus you place your hand in hers, not without a light-hearted curse that only widens her impish grin.

Not a second later, you're up to your neck in what feels like frost, breathing out an estranged laugh. You ought to kill her, you think, amidst your shock. Eivor laughs as if you thought aloud; perhaps you did. Nonetheless, the silly thought dissipates as she coaxes you into her arms, guiding your limbs to wrap around her so she can relieve you of the burden of keeping yourself afloat. The warmth of the blood under her skin melts some of the ice prickling at yours in a manner most grounding. It's only natural that you nestle your face into the crook of her neck, relaxing as her palm rubs soothing arcs into your back.

Softly, adoringly, Eivor calls you a wimp. You shush her, muffled by the skin of her neck, but she can feel your loving smile against her pulse, and it trebles the width of her own.

You understand why she brought you here, now. The cold clears the mind, stealing the essence away from time. In each other's embrace, chest-to-chest, your bodies equilibrate. A meditation of sorts. Every scar and blemish, every freckle and mole, is emblazoned into one another's flesh. The world around you stills. Your hearts, ever-beating, resynchronise as one.

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

I believe I promised some word vomit about an AU that has been rotting in my brain for about a year. It yearns to be free. Yes, it predictably revolves around the knight-princess concept. And while I genuinely have too many thoughts to conceivably put onto a page, I want to share it with you, because it makes me happy

The concept: an ancient oath that binds a knight's undying protection to a person of royal status, on fear of death

The reader in this is a princess, and while I won't give them a concrete personality, the AU does have some foundations in the princess' role to the kingdom. They're successful, philanthropic and dignified. (I aspire to be these things in a much better version of myself, and this is a bit of a comfort au lmao)

The backstory is obscenely elaborate in my head but the gist is, you are the heir to the throne. Your father passed before you were of age to ascend to the throne, and your mother remarried to the current king regent because she wanted you to be genuinely ready to rule by the time of your coronation. His reign is a fixed term spanning a decade or two because he’s a consort and there’s some old law dictating this. I can never decide on the actual duration.

His reign is nearing its end. The court and the public are optimistic about your coronation. You’re a believer in progress and innovation, and have pledged vast, accessible education to the children of the kingdom on top of the schools you’ve already built. A generation of well-educated kids will be a boon to the economy in future years, so the court is mostly all for it. There are a few who feel threatened by the idea, of course, and the investment in the future means less money padding their pockets, which they’re not fond of either.

The King however has adult children from his previous marriage whom he envisions as his successors, despite the terms of his reign forbidding it, unless you were to die. Knowing there are a few very willing co-conspirators amongst the court nobles, and that you vehemently refuse marriage and having children (self-projection, sorry), he sees a clear avenue in securing the line of ascension for his offspring. Plus, he'd no longer be legally obligated to abdicate.

In the same big legal book that lays out the terms surrounding an acting monarch, there is an oath that is seldom undertaken, rooted in ye olde tradition. With a witness present, a single person may pledge undying allegiance to a member of the royal family. They would be entrusted with their life, and expected to lay down their own if it ensured the royal’s survival. The Oathsworn is regarded as an elite ranking within the royal guard, and expected to undertake additional martial duties alongside being personally responsible for the safety of the royal in question, who must give consent alongside the witness to the pledge. Breaking the Oath is high treason. The royal’s untimely death counts as a breaking of the vows, so the Oathsworn scene is pretty stagnant.

Kassandra, Soma and Eivor all have their own trajectories based on this.

Soma's is...big. I suffer from chronic undying-love-for-unromancable-npc-itis. Kassandra's is comparatively undercooked. Eivor's is a work in progress, put generously. I do love Eivor, really, it's just whenever I try to build something for her in this universe, she quickly becomes Soma. See diagnosis. But I'm going to build on them, even if the ideas aren't as long or thoroughly explored, because it's fun :)

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

Oathsworn brainrot: Soma

This doesn't even scratch the surface, and there's 2000 odd words under the cut. This entire AU was built around Soma. I am unwell. As a big supporter of women's wrongs, the fact that in the game's canon, she allegedly managed to piss off the entirety of Mercia within a couple of years of being in England appeals to me greatly. That's a nefarious feat. Her hands are bloody.

The whole Oathsworn premise post is linked here.

The King isn’t a tactful man, and managed to piss off a very powerful nation overseas just a year after his coronation. They’re cunning merchants, and equally as cunning on the battlefield. The Danes are governed by a war council, led by Guthrum Jarl, with formidable politicians and warriors seated beside him.

Guthrum does not like the acting King. But neither side would profit from an all-out war. Your kingdom has money and connections from trade that the Danes (creatively named) didn’t want to compromise. And in terms of prowess in battle, your army didn’t stand a chance. Tensions were high, with neither side willing to escalate things past sanctions, a few shot messengers, minor sieges of neutral territory, and a lot of threats.

Three years ago, the King – bored of current circumstances – acted against the advice of the court and ordered a disproportionately sized infantry unit to attack a very small encampment flying a Dane banner on neutral ground, breaching the peace. He smiled while the council were left to develop one hell of a contingency plan. Thirty men sent to kill three or four Danes, according to the scout.

One soldier returned, his right leg dragging limply behind him, utterly harrowed. He trembled, wide-eyed and halfway retching as he recounted how the one Dane who survived the ambush sprinted into the swamp with thirty men on her tail. With a single axe, murky water and the darkness of the night, she cut down the infantry. She sliced the sole survivor’s heel and forced him to watch her butchery of the twenty-ninth soldier. Then she escorted him back to her camp. Cleaned and dressed his wound, purely so he’d live to tell the tale.

The court froze with dread as he gave a description of the woman. Specifically at the scar, ragged and deep, cutting through her face from her ear to her nose. That woman was Soma: one of Guthrum’s most trusted councillors, and something of a nightmare to your kingdom’s soldiers.

Your court anticipated full retaliation. However, they were met with diplomacy. Despite the breach of unspoken contract, Guthrum had no intention of returning the gesture, still believing that the price of a war wouldn’t be worth its rewards. He arranged to visit the kingdom with his war council after sending a draft of a new peace treaty, full of mutually beneficial trade outlines, but pending one unfinalised condition.

Soma, looking like Soma does, caught your immediate attention upon the Danes’ arrival. She immediately recognised you as the crown princess without introduction, despite the King’s children also being present. She knew something, and that was unsettling, but she was courteous nonetheless. Her smile was warm, her eyes betraying her calculation. You weren’t completely in the dark yourself, though – the scar was unmistakable. This woman could likely take on all the Kingsguard in the room without the help of her colleagues. Whatever their game was, she was an integral player.

Guthrum said he was content to forgive the King for his misdeeds, and while the phrasing angered his Majesty, the animosity was silenced by the treaty’s very generous terms. The Danes saw profit in an alliance, but needed a reason to believe the King would honour it. After this, Guthrum nodded to you and bowed politely; word of your stride towards free public education had reached their shores, and he found it an admirable goal indeed. No wonder your kingdom spoke fondly of their heir, he remarked.

His caveat to the treaty was simple. Your court, by now, was familiar with the capabilities of Soma. Guthrum had heard of the Oathsworn tradition. Soma was prepared to abandon her port and her seat at his council in favour of swearing the Oath. This way, if the King was to lash out again, she would be within striking distance to take the life of the kingdom’s crown jewel – and your death wouldn’t be painless. The oath would be sworn with him and a noble of your choice present as witnesses, and it would be sworn.

Very few people in the court were aware of the King’s intention to eventually dethrone you, and he was in no position to refuse the treaty. The Danes did not come without reinforcements. He agreed to the terms, signed the papers, and you asked your queen mother to bear witness. She was sickened by the thought of the Oath being sworn under these circumstances, suspecting her husband’s intentions regarding his succession, knowing your life was doubly at risk here. But she agreed, because it wasn't up for negotiation.

That same evening, yourself, Soma, a priest and the two agreed-upon witnesses took to the chapel. She recited the sacred vow, never breaking your gaze. Her tone was steeled, but there was no mistaking her contentment to abandon the tenet, should it be asked of her.

The first attempt on your life occurred a mere month after the Oath ceremony. The assassin concealed the family crest of one of your kingdom’s nobles on a cufflink. He struck when you were checking in with the headmaster of a school you recently built, dealt with swiftly by Soma, who shadowed your public appearances. She was professional – positioning herself between you and the attacker in a suit of armour she had yet to adjust to, incapacitating him. The visit was cut short as she wrapped you in her cloak to mask your identity, leaving the other guards to formally arrest the assassin.

She had an authoritative, no-bullshit attitude about her as she used her newfound influence over the royal guard – a perk of the position given the politics – to organise an inquiry, presenting to the King the engraved cufflink found on the assassin. No doubt, she took pleasure in getting information out of him, but how she handled the inquiry made it clear that your life was paramount, and you took peculiar solace in this. The conspiring noblewoman who sent him was soon tried and punished accordingly. Soma insisted upon standing in as her executioner.

You cursed yourself as your defensive, wary demeanour around her cracked over time. There were other attempts on your life, and she took her role as your Oathsworn seriously, seemingly more so with every new perpetrator. Beyond duty, though, she showed you kindness. And as you learned about one another in your close proximity, you grew fond of each other. A profound respect was building, and it was mutual.

At one point, you both had problematic revelations. You had never felt safer around the woman tasked with taking your life, should the causal circumstance arise. And Soma realised she had no desire to act on that kill order. You made a promise to her: when you were queen, you would grant her deeds to the kingdom’s port, because she had once confessed to you how she mourned that part of her old life, and the gods knew she could bloody run it. She pondered the promise being empty, but dismissed the thought. You listened to her in a moment of vulnerability. This changed things.

A dalliance was inevitable, but this was neither fleeting nor inconsequential. Your affection for one another, your devotion in all its intensity, was a secret well-kept from all eyes, ears and quills.

And it was intense. Fast. Hasty, even. The threat of a sudden awful change loomed over you both, leaving no time for courtship. Butterflies were reserved for the newfound gesture in Soma’s hand on your back as she escorted you through crowds. Her solitary company was filled with dizzying kisses, passionate rendezvous under the moonlight and unbridled laughter.

At first, your mutual desire for physical intimacy was overwhelmed by a sudden anxiety in your closeness. There was the persistent fear that the kill order had been given, and that Soma was waiting for you to be at your most vulnerable before she ended your life. It choked you, frustrated you, but you were honest with her. The first time it happened, Soma assured you that she would sooner cut off her hand than lay a harmful finger on you. She thanked you for your candour, bidding you goodnight with a comforting smile and a chaste kiss to your knuckles. She would not lay with you until you felt safe enough to trust her with your body, and she wanted you to realise this safety on your own. With time, that safety came about. You made love, and confessed that love shortly after.

Your relationship introduced a new variable to the political equation. Until the present, you tried your best not to question any loyalties. Foolish as it were, you were content in the illusion of security.

With his reign coming to an end, though, the King is under pressure to secure the line of succession for himself and his children before he’ll be forced to abdicate. Never having had a penchant for patience, this urgency is beginning to seep into his actions in court. None of the assassination attempts were successful. His co-conspirators are dwindling in their numbers; those who haven’t been convicted of treason are succumbing to fear.

Truthfully, he never anticipated Soma would honour her vow, nevermind with such ferocity. He had hoped one of his carefully organised, bloody fates would befall upon you, and her subsequent execution would bury the evidence of his crime. But she complicated things terribly, and in his frustration, he begins to suggest processions that would put the treaty at risk. Gambling merchandise due to be exported form your kingdom to Guthrum. Proposing a mandatory armistice for all Danes in the kingdom. Inquisitions, the likes. All fortunately talked down by the court, but not without rapidly building concern.

You and Soma begin to see through the cracks. The King isn’t intelligent, but he also isn’t naive enough to accidentally compromise the kingdom’s safety. As your step-siblings begin to look at you through a different gaze, you're forced to navigate court with a pit in your stomach. Conversations with Soma following the string of conspiracies only reinforced the idea that foul play is at work.

Soma caught word some weeks ago that Guthrum’s war council had undergone a few changes of seats, and not all of the new councillors share his ambitions. They seek conquest. She suspects they’re in contact with your King, most likely manipulating him into pushing for political moves that would spiral the kingdom into a war you would certainly lose.

Her fears reside in whether Guthrum could have a change of heart, or if he would be willing to isolate you from the actions of the King with your coronation inbound. There is every possibility that the King could overrule the democracy of the court regarding one of his rash decisions, and the kill order would be given. There would be war, and if she refused to take your life, she’d be an enemy of her people – her family – as well as your own.

Yet when she confides in you, distressed, it’s abundantly clear that Soma doesn’t see a dilemma in all of this. She paces about your quarters and thinks aloud, knowing you’ll always lend your ear and comfort to her. If all negotiations failed, she would rather live as a pariah than betray you. The idea of taking your life is unfathomable.

Amidst a sea of uncertainties, you’re unable to avoid doubt. Those panicky feelings from the early days of your relationship are resurfacing, as much as you want them to stop. Your heart yearns to trust Soma. You hear the truth in her words, the humanity in her voice, but you can’t shake the fear that it’s an elaborate act. Your apprehension hurts her. It wounds you both.

A bitter few days pass by. You’re sick with worry, unable to sleep. Questions of if she’d do it bleed into how she’d do it. Your mind lingers on poison, to the extent where you employ somebody to taste your food and before you so much as touch the plate.

Soma knocks on your bedchamber door one night with a goblet in hand. She lets out a pained breath when you flinch away from it. It’s a sleeping aid, she tells you gently. It’s agonising to watch your health deteriorate under paranoia. You are her heart, after all. As difficult as it is to acknowledge your wavering trust in her, her love for you has not lessened.

You’re exhausted. And scared – not just for your life, but for the future of your kingdom. Apologies flood from your lips as you crumble before her. Soma can’t stop herself from holding you. Tears of her own escape as you sob at the sensation of her embrace, trembling in her arms as your sleep-deprived, anxiety-riddled mind tries desperately to refute that immediate feeling of safety.

It dawns that neither of you have the luxury of certainty in anything but each other.

Tenderly, after a small eternity in each other's arms, Soma asks if she can renew her vow, right here. She wants you to hear her Oath anew, her tenet solemn, devoted, and devoid of political motivation. Fuck the chapel, the priest, the gods. Witness be damned. The only blessing that matters is yours.

You give it to her.

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

ASSASSIN'S CREED ODYSSEY - One Man Army

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

starting to clock why my brain gravitates towards the ol' murder murder ladies au when i'm feeling like shit. having one woman who not only loves and desires you, but places you on a pedestal so untouchably high that you are the solitary tear in the warped sheet of their entire worldview? being one of the final remaining tethers to her sanity? someone who would do whatever it takes to soothe your pain, with no care for the consequences, because there's no price she's not willing to pay for your happiness and security? who eliminates the need for moral introspection because she's fucked - completely, and unapologetically so - but you love each other unconditionally, and loving her is the most sordid misdeed you could hope to do? ideal. add to cart.

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

It's that time again!

If you can donate for or provide eSIMs for Gaza, they're in need of more:

If you just want to donate to a fund:

Some things to know about how Gazans are using eSIMs and how they're a literal lifeline for many people and why so many are needed:

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

I really want to see this happen. There are way too many black trans women murdered.

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

thoughts about eivor courting you but you’re just shy and this big scary viking is constantly lingering around your lil shop in the settlement and you know who she is but she’s just so big and tall and rough

but she soon figures out you’re shy. so she starts small, greeting you on her way from the longhouse, making small repairs on your shop or house when she sees you need the help, (in a very crow-fashion) leaving small flowers or pretty leaves on your doorstep. once you get comfortable, she starts stopping by the shop frequently to browse your wares and 100% buy something, even though you insisted she take it for free, she refused and decided to support your lil shop. it gets to the point where she’s leaving poems for you, having someone deliver food and clothes and anything you need.

i can’t expand on this i have 0 thoughts but slow burn with eivor x shy!reader (literally me) is so important to me

Supporting small businesses is cool. Supporting small businesses because you're gay for the owner and your heart does a little tap dance at their little smile when you show them patronage, because they feel purposeful and proud? Even better.

Crow-fashion flirting is definitely Eivor's thing. In addition to the nice rock she found while jumping through a cave littered with ritual circles and effigies, she'd bring you things to help mitigate your business expenses. She overhears you mutter that you need fabric? Say no more. (She looted it from a monastery.) Coveting a more expensive shade of paint or dye? You're in luck - she just stumbled across some (at a monastery) and you'd make far better use of it than she would. You're never gonna guess where she found those novelty quills she gifted you.

She's such a big softie, and this slow burn is so sweet :)