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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 19 days

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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 :)

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 19 days

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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.

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 19 days

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ASSASSIN'S CREED ODYSSEY - One Man Army

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 19 days

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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.

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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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:

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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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 :)

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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So glad to see you popping up on my dash!! I’ve got a req from the soulmates post!

#15 No harm done - soulmates are not able to hurt each other physically

This with Sevika? What if there’s a big fight and it’s down to the two of you and maybe you’re already pretty badly injured so she comes stalking over to finish the job and take you out but then she CANT 😫😭💕 OR!! Silco has you hostage and wants her to interrogate you? She’d wind up for a smack or something and just be stopped mid air. Either way, I’d love to see her face journey upon realizing who you are to her bc I imagine she’d be the type that’s convinced she’ll never find/doesn’t have a soulmate and now she has to accept that she is capable and deserving of love >:}

Also in the specific scenarios I can’t remember the number and I’m on mobile but the constant danger one would be so cute with Soma! Or really any of the ladies tbh they’re always into some shit lol I just always want more Soma in my life 💘

I'll write the Soma one later if I get the inspo in my brain for it! But here it is! Sevika for 15! It's a little angsty but also my first time writing for her!!!!

Summary: Telling Silco no is a bad idea, especially when he sends Sevika, his right hand, after you. Though... maybe it's not so bad if she can't actually hurt you?

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Genre: Soulmate, Not Smut

Potential TW: Violence, some stalking, mentions of killing read

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The fear that struck your heart was not a new one, especially down here in Zaun. Fear was rampant in this place, no one was free from it. The lowest feared as prey, rabbits to be tracked and shot down by hunters. The highest weren’t exempt from it either, though the fear they felt was one born of greed. Of coins and power slipping through their fingers.

It wasn’t like you intended to get on Silco’s bad side. You weren’t someone of power to be feared by others, you weren’t even really a threat to him. But you told him no.

No, you wouldn’t serve his men. No, you wouldn’t distribute shimmer through Zaun. No, you wouldn’t back down. You liked Vander. You liked that he cared for his people without trying to beat others down. So what that he worked with Piltover? If it kept people safe, if it kept the upper side’s nose out of your business, so what. He was a father, a guardian. Silco was a monster.

And you had told his right hand that, right to her face. Her rather handsome face, once found in Vander’s men, now stinking up the door to your establishment. It twists up in anger, in rage.

“What?” She had said, a simple, low voiced threat that had part of you thrumming with a disgusting streak of desire.

“I said, no, Sevika. I’m not a pusher of some fucked up drug. I’m a fucking florist struggling to get through life down here. I can’t risk that.”

“Silco doesn’t take no for an answer, (Y/N).” She said. “Just because you’re ‘not the type’ doesn’t make you exempt from his requests.”

“He’s not a king. He’s not my boss.” You had responded, slamming the door shut in her face. She stayed there for a few moments, and you had feared for a few long moments that she was going to take that mechanical arm and punch through the door, taking your throat with it.

Instead, she quietly left, taking her men laughing with her.

You had thought that that was that. Silco and his men left you alone for a time, and instead, your flowers flourished. It was frustrating. There was an improvement with the shimmer, a double edged sword that you were sure would come crashing down on Zaun any moment.

Then, Sevika started appearing standing on the other side of the street of your shop. Staring, waiting. Never making a move, never moving closer. It scared you, enough to make you change your routine, but like clockwork, she would adjust within a day. A predator, waiting for her chance to clamp her teeth around the throat of her prey.

So you decided to run. Pack your things and run. You could beg on the streets of Piltover. Hell, maybe you could even leave. Crossing Silco was one thing, but Sevika being the one to take you out? She was going to make it hurt. She was going to make sure that you weren’t found ever again. And you can’t risk it.

Which is how you found yourself in this situation, sitting in some abandoned closet in some abandoned home, clutching a knife close to your chest as you hear Sevika rip through your belongings.

You weren’t going to make it out of this alive, that knowledge settling deep in your bones. But you can give it a fighting chance, maybe she might make it quick, knowing you weren’t going to be a coward and die weakly. That’s the one thing you can do in Zaun: die strong.

Even so, a part of you mourned. You never figured out who they were, your soulmate, the one you were destined to love, waiting these long years in the darkness of Piltover. Waited for so long, only to be snuffed out by a mere puppet of a monsterous man who ruled your home. Your fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife as your killer approaches the closet.

“Come out, (Y/N).” She says, voice low in that threatening way that made your stomach turn. “You know that you can’t fight me. Not with whatever little weapon you have. Silco just wants to talk.”

“We both know that the talk is going to end up with me dead.” You say. You wish that you could respond with the confidence you had when you got yourself into this mess, all pride and strength. Instead, you just put your foot on the door, offering resistance for whenever she decided to rip it off the hinges.

“Maybe if you stopped trying both of our patiences,” Sevika growls, punching the door for a threatening emphasis. “you wouldn’t be worried about that. You can either die now, or die if he gives the order.”

“I’m not gonna wait for that, and you know it.”

She sighs, a deep, tired sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And the door comes right off its hinges, though your booted foot did nothing to give you time. The wood slings across to the other side of the room, and you start slashing wildly, missing each time before she knocks the dinky knife out of your hand with one flick. A scream escapes your lips, hoping beyond hope someone would take pity on your in your last moments, even if that someone was Sevika. You’re lifted up by your shirt collar and dragged out of the closet, kicking and sobbing for someone to save you.

Your feet dangle, and without thinking, you wrap your hands around her organic wrist for some kind of subconsious reassurance. The feeling of her skin against your fingers shocks you. She’s human, just like you. but she’s fixing to kill you. She’s killed before. She’s watched the life drain out of so many people and you were no exception.

Your touch does nothing to her, seemingly. No flinch, no hesitation. Instead, she pulls back her mechanical fist and pulls it back. You close your eyes, tears dripping down your cheeks as you brace for the end.

But the end doesn’t come. And it doesn’t come for a few minutes actually. So you crack open an eye, looking at her with relief. She must have changed her mind. The look on Sevika’s face however, was one of horror. Her fist was still raised, and you see the muscle of her shoulder straining. Then, you’re gently lowered to the ground, her hand still loosely curled into the fabric of your shirt.

“Ch… Change of mind?” You ask, still terrified out of your wits end.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Kill me?”

“Hurt you.” She says. The words seem to slip out of her mouth, like she wanted to stop them before they were spoken. “I can’t hurt you, (Y/N).”

It takes a moment. At first, you think she’s simply taking pity on you, or maybe she respects you too much after your attempts to prevent your own death. Then it sinks in. Sevika tried to hurt you, but physically, she couldn’t. Which meant…

“I’m your soulmate. We’re… We’re soulmates.”

Speaking it out loud only seems to upset her further. She shifts, turning her face away and letting her right hand drop from your person. Though she doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak. She just looks… uncomfortable.

As you stand there, basking in the strange feeling that your soulmate just tried to kill you, that your soulmate was Sevika, you come to realize something about Sevika. You thought her a killer, someone ready to switch sides at any given moment but… now, as she stands there awkward as a teenager, you remember that she might have had expectations about this too. Hopes about soulmates, dreams about them. Was she disappointed? Was she ashamed?

“What are you going to do?” Is all you’re able to ask, all you can manage to get out.

She regards you out of the corner of her eye before she runs a hand over her face. “... Let you go. But you need to get out of Zaun. Never come back here.” She says.

“What? But you’re my… you want me to leave after we just found out???”

“Obviously!” She snaps. “Silco wants you dead, I can’t afford to fail, but…” She moves as though she’s going to pace, but then stops, like she can’t bring herself to move from you. There’s a pause before she rests a hand on your shoulder. “I never thought I would have one… would have you. You’re a weakness, that insecurity was a weakness. That desire was. It still is. So you’re going to leave Zaun, hell, maybe the whole city. I can’t have you haunting my steps.”

“So I’m a bother to you??” You ask, incredulous at the fact that she’s trying to get you to leave. Angry at the fact that you finally have what you’ve always wanted and now she’s pushing you away despite the fact that maybe now she can protect you.

“You’re a weakness. And a pain in my ass.” Sevika says. “I’m not… I’m not doing this. Just leave.”

And before you can say anything, she pulls you into a kiss, hard, fast, and passionate. Better than any you’ve had before. And you mourn this bittersweet moment, because you know deep down that she’s right.

Her loyalty is to Zaun, and if anything comes before that…

She’d have helped kill Vander for nothing, because she would do the same things he did to make sure you were safe.

#sevika x reader #sevika #my writing #arcane x reader #soulmate trope

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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No harm done Sevika×Reader

Street battle to the death, except neither of them are getting hurt :)

Hey anon! Just letting you know that someone else also asked for 15 and I'll be posting it under their ask because it's a bit of a mix between the two of the ideas! Yeehaw to you pardner

#answering my lovelies

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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Omg!!!! It's so pretty 🥺🥺🥺 alexandrite is def one of the top ten best ring stones imo

Thank you!!!! I love it soooo much but im hoping i get galaxy sandstone in return <3

#answering my lovelies

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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wow that ring is really pretty 😳 i bet the person who proposed is even prettier 😳😳 (seeing the notifs on your writing blog feels like if i was a stay at home wife seeing my partner on the news as a news anchor or something like omg look there they go!!!!!!)

.... cass is this you

#answering my lovelies

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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Omg I just sent an ask and completely glazed over the fact that you got engaged??? Congratulations!!!!!

I am I am!!! Thank you thank you! I proposed to my handsome and wonderful fiance! My beautiful butch! Here's the ring!

#annie speaks #answering my lovelies #its alexandrite if you're wondering!

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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Congratulations on your engagement!! I was thinking that Kassandra and 8 would be an interesting fic :) Don’t feel like you have to write one though if it doesn’t float your boat!

Thank you so much! I'm very excited! I might post updates on how things are going when we get further in the engagement! Also CONGRATS ON BEING MY FIRST ASK BACK LET'S GOOOOOOO!!!

Summary: In a world where the gods blessed mortals with the ability to find their soulmates through matching wounds and scars, Kassandra has always felt immense guilt for her bloody job.

Pairing: Kassandra x Reader

Genre: Soulmate; No Smut

Potential TW: Blood, wounds, scarring, intentional scarring of a soulmate

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Kassandra never noticed the small cuts and bruises on her body. She was a mercenary, a life of injuries great and small was something she would always be used to. So when papercuts and bruises on the hips and shins appeared, she never took notice, never really wondered which ones were from her soulmate. Some who asked found that selfish, that she never worried over which of the injuries weren’t hers, that her soulmate was out there in pain and she had little care.

But they never saw the big picture.

Kassandra never cared about which ones were her soulmate’s, not because she was selfish, but because she hated that every injury that was hers appeared on whoever was her destined. Did she lie awake scared some nights, worried that the medium sized wound in her leg was actually much larger on Kassandra? Did she trace her fingers over scars that branded Kassandra, hating that they marred her skin just as much? It made her ache, deep in her soul, that she was causing pain and injury. Yet she couldn’t stop. Fighting was in her bones, carried over from the darkness of that spartan night on the mountain. It was her living. She had lives to support. Surely, hopefully, because her soulmate’s wounds never hurt her when they appeared, her own simply marked the skin, never harming the softness that she was surely destroying.

Then, she learned the truth. In the market, a hot summer evening on the docks of Kephallonia, Kassandra watched as a woman bent in half, screaming in pain as her soulmate carved his name over and over into her arm. It wasn’t uncommon, branding your own skin with marks to ensure that you would find each other, but most people just do a small scar. A burn somewhere. A scar through the eyebrow. Something lasting that wouldn’t hurt much, but be noticable. Later, the woman praised the gods for her husband’s foresight, but the image of that woman, terrified and crying out in pain as the blood dripped down her arm onto the wooden docks stayed with Kassandra, haunting her nights and her mornings.

Now, the worries became nightmares. A woman, beautiful as the morning sun, gentle as the midnight moon, screaming and sobbing in pain as a spear wound appeared in her side. Claw marks raking down her face. Her eye bleeding as Kassandra’s own was impaled. Such extremes would never happen, the mercenary tried to remind herself, the gods had made it so your destined would never suffer that much from the injuries you face. And still, the dreams would haunt her.

So she learned. Dodging became her speciality, arrows barely grazed her now, she could catch thrown spears with ease. Eventually, the wounds on her body became more bruises, something she came to live with, though Kassandra desired not a single spot on her future love’s body, no more. Now, their lives could be spent without pain, and only laughter and passion.

Then, one night on the Adrestia as they sailed past Athens, Kassandra was woken up with a tearing pain across her upper left bicep, trailing down to her wrist in a slow, meticulous motion. She sat up with a startled cry, half expecting some wild creature set upon her by a rival or the Cult to be attacking her. A dagger flashes in the moonlight, swinging wildly for a second only to be met with air and the silence of the sea night. Barnabas wakes with her, shouting in response for the rest of the crew. Only a few stir, used to the nightmares of their crewmates after what they’ve seen after following her across the Greek world.

“Barnabas? There’s nothing…” She pants, her hair messy from her restless sleep.

“Aye, there’s nothing Captain.” Her first mate says, rising to his feet to come to her aide. “You were the one who woke me up- By the Gods! Your arm!”

She looks down, eyes widening as her arm shone with blood, dark and messy in a way that she’s used to after a fight with a wild beast. And then the pain hits her. It’s nothing she’s not used to, but the absence of any attacker aboard her ships grounds her in a reality more painful than most anything she’s ever experienced.

“No… this isn’t my injury to bear.” Kassandra croaks out, voice hoarse. “She’s been hurt.” And verbalizing that, even to a silent, concerned Barnabas and barely awake Herodotos, is easily the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

—------------------------------------

It was months later that Kassandra finally realized what happened to her soulmate that fateful night. It had taken Barnabas a week to convince Kassandra that searching every town in Greece would take much longer than they had time for and that her soulmate wasn’t dead because of the bruises and calluses on her fingers left by a weaver’s work. So, she just kept an eye out for any woman with the same deep scars tracing down the muscle of her arm.

And she found her.

A beautiful maiden, laughing with a customer at her simple booth in an Argos market, a laugh that Kassandra could swear she’s heard in her dreams, and she had the same scar carving into her skin. Left bicep, all the way down her wrist. A part of her felt pain over it. The real thing, right there, something that caused someone so lovely so much pain, was the only reason she knew it was her.

The maiden turned, ready to greet Kassandra as a new customer, then stopped, staring at her face with a very clear look of awe. Before she could stop herself, Kassandra reached out, touching the very end of the jagged mark.

“Tell me… I’ve wondered so long, how did you come to bear this pain?”

At first, the woman who Kassandra loved before this day looked embarrassed, then, recognition. Her own eyes trailed over the mercenary’s left arm, shock and relief gathering in dazzling eyes as she matches their scar together.

“You’ll be so infuriated with me.” She mumbled. Kassandra nearly burst into laughter. She had caused her so much pain before, such a scare would never make her angry. Not if it came from her. “But I tripped down a hill.”

The laugh that Kassandra was holding back ripped out of her. What a woman.

#Soulmate trope #Kassandra x reader #kassandra of sparta x reader #x reader #My Writing #Kassandra #Kassandra of Sparta

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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Hello everyone I have another post for you!

If you remember, I recently reblogged a soulmate post! Please send asks in based on themes of that soulmate post!

Basically, just send me the number of the trope you want and a character you want associated with it!

Characters I will write for: Kassandra, Eivor, Soma, and Sevika! Though I will write for more women if I know the fandom, just shoot me an ask and I'll let you know!

(Please send stuff in my days are so dead)

#annie speaks #Soulmates #kassandra x reader #deimos kassandra x reader #eivor x reader #soma x reader #sevika x reader #x reader

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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Back from my long ass hiatus? Maybe, maybe not! My laptop is broken, i moved, and I just got engaged! All on top of the fact I work a hard ass job! BUT i wanna get back into this. If you guys ever wanna send in asks, I'll try my hardest to write them up, full fics or headcanons!

Inbox is OPEN

#annie speaks

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 1 month

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Soulmate AUs

Imprint - the soulmate’s touch will leave an imprint on their skin, aka Destiel ‘gripped you tight’

Sense8 - being telepathically connected to your soulmate no matter where in the world they are (and speaking and understanding their language)

Markings - a soulmate mark that only the soulmates have in common

Platonic soulmates - there are different types of soulmates, some are romantic, some are platonic, some are familial (x)

Tattoo - when they reach a certain age, a tattoo shows up on their bodies that they have in common

Eye-colour - only being able to see everything in the colour of their soulmate’s eyes

Grey to multi-coloured - only being able to see grey until they meet their soulmate

Sharing injuries - receiving the same injuries (to a lesser extent) that their soulmate suffers from

Empathy - sharing the same emotions as their soulmate when they are close by

Names - their soulmate’s name is written on their body (maybe only initials)

First Word - the first word/sentence they hear their soulmate say is written on their body

Timer - everyone has a timer that’s counting down till they meet their soulmate

Dreamy - seeing their soulmate’s dreams or being able to communicate with them in their dreams

Biggest secret - everyone knows their soulmate’s biggest secret (even if it’s from the future)

No harm done - soulmates are not able to hurt each other physically

Sharing songs - being able to share songs with their soulmate in their heads

Clock - everyone has a clock that shows the time zone their soulmate is in

Taste - only being able to taste anything after meeting their soulmate

Smell - being able to smell what their soulmate is smelling

Danger alert - people can feel when their soulmate is in danger

Tell no lie - it’s impossible to lie to your soulmate

Voice in their head - the voice in their head is their soulmate’s voice

Sharing birthdays - soulmates are born on the same day, share the first breath with each other

Tugging - being able to feel a tug in the direction of your soulmate if they are feeling a strong emotion

Different soulmates - people are not necessarily their soulmate’s soulmate

Specific scenarios:

First Word = the sentence that they will hear their soulmate say, is a very common saying or a catchphrase from a TV show

Sharing injuries = people hurting themselves in unique ways to find their soulmate is getting out of hand

Soulmate Trip = people are going on trips as soon as they are 18 to find their soulmate

TV shows/social media = it’s pretty popular to watch how people try to find their soulmates

Tell no lie = the soulmates meet in a situation where it’s very important to lie to each other

Shamefulness = their soulmate bond is not being seen as appropriate, for whatever reason

Defiance = not wanting to let fate run their lives, some people actively try to avoid meeting their soulmates

Sharing songs = they keep hearing songs that they can’t find on the internet, finally realizing that they are their soulmate’s own, unpublished songs

Sharing songs = they keep hearing songs that only become famous months later, finally realizing that their soulmate is involved in producing those popular songs

Danger alert = their soulmate is constantly in danger and as soon as they meet, they will have a word with them for worrying them so much

More: Multiple Soulmates Prompts | Dark Soulmates AUs

I hope you all enjoy the AU ideas :)

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