#Eivors Ravens Writing Prompt

[eivors-ravens]

These are for Mature Audiences Only. (Not all but lets be safe) No Lone Wolves - Written by ladyelori

Negotiations - Written by The_Water_Bearer

Negotiation - Written by BerryShiara

A Woman That Knows What She Wants - Written by musikfurfreiheit

Negotiate - Written by BabyBlainers

A Fowl Situation - Written by massconvergence

How About...? - Written by baepsae7

The Wrong Side - Written by aloverofallthings_masterofnone

Ravensthorpe's Finest - Written by Kelenloth Week One prompt was done by 9 of us. A massive feast for everyone filled with lots of Randivor! Its fun, and sassy, and poetic, and heartfelt, and hot excuse me HAWT!

We are all very proud of last weeks efforts and are bursting at the seams to share them in their entirety with all of you! This weeks word is Pure, and it is a startling batch that has already begun. Stick around to see those posts next week! To anyone who wants to join us in this endevor. New words of the week appear every TUESDAY! Tag all your writing efforts with the word of the week and @ us! Your Friendly Conspiracy of Ravens. ;)

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[the-historywhore]

Hello again! I had a request in mind that if you'd accept to write it. I was hoping if you'd write a fic about Eivor Varinsson falling in love with black!reader who is a princess of a kingdom called The Land Of Punt (now a part of Somalia, Ethiopia and other North African countries. The kingdom she's actually from was a trading partner of Ancient Egypt known for producing and exporting gold, aromatic resins, blackwood, ebony, ivory and wild animals)

Since reader would be a princess, I imagine her having a no-nonsense but sassy personality who doesn't take orders from lowly Anglo-Saxons since reader, her mother and some of her people have been kidnapped and sold as slaves but Eivor saves her and the others during a raid in Mercia

It would be lovely to see how a Norseman like Eivor would react to seeing someone who's appearance, accent and culture is completely different as compared to the Scandinavians and the English people he comes across usually. And also, would the Raven Clan want to have gold trading ties with black!reader's kingdom?

Love your blog and your writing! 😍

Okay I just have to say I am so hyped for this prompt, you gave me so much info and direction with it and I’m living for the reader in this. Hope you enjoy this and this was really interesting to research and to write! 💕✨

In fact, I love this idea so much that I’m considering doing a part 2 👀

Foreign Lands.

M!Eivor x Black!Royalty!Reader

Eivor and his warriors docked the longship on the river bank, they were leading a raid in Mercia. This was perhaps the biggest raid they would lead of the season, this was a trading hotspot, surely inside the building there would be a phalanx of gold and metals, weapons and jewels alike.

The warriors prepared themselves, beating their shields, the axes swung and the swords clashed to take down the guards. Eivor kicked at the door, it wouldn’t take much to bring it down - ushering for his comrades to take position beside him they rammed the ornate wooden door of the trading stronghold. The door hit the floor with a clatter and this scene was before the Raven Clan.

Eivor could not quite believe his eyes, the room was filled with people - they were tied to posts, a range of ages with women and children clinging to eachother. Eivor noticed that there were no men amongst the group of prisoners.

Raven Clan warriors took care of any remaining undesirables so that they could properly assess what kind of trade was going on here. There was most certainly gold and some horns from exotic lands, but there seemed to be some kind of slave trade taking place here.

Eivor couldn’t deny the obvious, these people looked different - their skin was a much darker, and their hair looked to be a different texture. However, Eivor didn’t see them as objects - they were still people to him,

Many Viking clans took slaves from their conquests and raids, but since Eivor had been in command of the Raven Clan warriors - they had never taken a Single soul from their raids, least of all a group of women and children.

“Let these people go,” Eivor requested, and so the warriors began releasing the prisoners from their bounds.

“And where do you suppose we go?” An accented voice spoke up from a corner. Eivor turned to see a young woman standing up and making her way towards Eivor.

He took in her appearance, her clothes were a white linen - a beautiful contrast to her skin which seemed to glitter in the candlelight. Her voice was deep, and an accent that seemed to hypnotise Eivor’s senses.

“How do you suppose me and my people are to return to our lands?” She asked him once again. Eivor stuttered.

“How did you get here?” He managed to stutter.

“On a ship, where myself and my people were taken from our very homes to be shipped off and sold.” She quipped, this woman that had seemed to ensnare Eivor and she was determined to protect the people that she’d been taken with.

Eivor thought for a moment, but before he could open his mouth she spoke.

“I am a Princess, and my mother is a Queen. We can offer you things - Gold, Ivory, but you must help us.”

“How can we help you? We don’t even know where your home land is” Eivor said, he wanted to help this woman - this warrior Princess and her family

“Warrior, you seem to underestimate my knowledge of the world - I travel and trade with many civilisations just as my Brothers do.”

Eivor smirked, this would be a good venture for him and his clan - more allies never did anyone harm.

——————

The day had come where him and the Raven clan would return the people hailing from the Land of Punt to their home. He had worked with the Princess of these people to aid them in regaining their strength and housing them in the couple of months in preparation for the voyage overseas.

“We have come so far together, Eivor. I realise I have never properly thanked your for your co-operation and kindness..” The Princess stood beside the Norse warrior, watching as the longboats were loaded with the supplies they would need on their travels.

“It has been good to see another culture so different though, it reminds us that we aren’t alone. It always does the mind well to learn more, of course” His words were wise and thoroughly thought out, but his tone was solemn.

The truth was that Eivor would greatly miss the Princess’s company, she was witty and particularly good at trade deals and a valiant fighter. Her culture was so different to his but he found it so intriguing. Her glistening golden jewellery were a symbol of her power and status, while the brass runes in his hair were to protect him in battle and connect him to his gods. His clothing was a heavy wool, whereas her clothing was a lightweight cotton linen. There were so many contrasts between them, but they still found things to connect over.

———————

A/N: Hello! I am so incredibly sorry that this took so long!! I will be releasing a part two of this, I promise - Some requests had to be halted due to my College work but I’m on Break now so I’m back into the swing of writing! Master list coming soon 💕💕

[idonotbitemythumbatyou]

For the kiss prompt thing, if you’re not too busy. Randvi and eivor, in the snow, for no reason at all 🥺. Randvi deserves kisses, and you have very good writing skills.

Eivor blocked Randvi’s path with an urgent arm across the front.

Randvi looked up at her inquisitively, instinctively gripping Eivor’s wrist and holding it in place at her breastbone.

“There’s ice there, you see?” Eivor said quickly by way of explanation.

Two horns in, Randvi was more capable than most would be, but still not at her most coordinated.

“Ah!” She laughed.

Eivor extricated her arm from Randvi’s grip, skin tingling where their fingers brushed. Sigurd would be skulking around somewhere, in as dour a mood as he had been since his return. Eivor and Randvi had hardly been alone in the same room in the months since his return - let alone been able to touch. She feared that even a touch as innocent as this would somehow give away the true nature and intensity of her feelings.

To never touch Randvi had pained Eivor nearly past bearing - but she at least could leave. She had travelled all over England; she had sailed across the ocean for the sake of the Raven Clan. Randvi had stayed put for the same - bearing the brunt of Sigurd’s sourness. Worst of all, Eivor was powerless to comfort her in any way on the rare occasions they were together.

They had left the rest of the clan to fetch a forgotten instrument before the Yule feast began in earnest. A simple task but here they were behind the longhouse, paused in their return as though the tiny patch of ice were a genuine obstacle. They would be missed if they weren’t back momentarily. Still, they did not move from one another's gaze.

Flakes of snow rested on Randvi’s eyelashes and melted in little streams down her face. Eivor reached a tentative hand up to wipe Randvi’s cheeks, but stopped herself at her shoulder and brushed a few flakes of snow from the fur cloak.

“Thank you.” Randvi said with an ironic smile, as a cloud of new snowflakes replaced the ones Eivor wiped away. And as neither of them could say anything else aloud, Randvi stepped away (around the ice) and back towards the entrance of the Longhouse.

“Randvi.”

Randvi stopped - she had only made it a few steps. “We’ve had to be so careful,” She turned back to face Eivor, “but I hope you know I still-”

Eivor stopped her mouth with hers. She held Randvi’s face in her hands, desperate to relive all the kisses they’d shared before it had all become so painful and wrong. Eivor was relieved to find that their mouths still fitted together perfectly, that her face still felt as comfortable as she remembered cradled in her palms. They pulled apart and stepped away from one another, hearts pounding - more with fear than anything.

Eivor glanced around for witnesses, and with only a deep breath Randvi began to stalk back to the longhouse without her. To add words could only put them in more danger but it felt wrong to let the exchange end like this.

“I know you still…” Eivor began, “I still…”

Randvi turned back one last time. She looked clear-eyed but exhausted. “I know.” she said with an incongruous smile, “fear not, my love.” she then added - voice low - conspiratorial, “This is not forever.”

Perhaps it was the drink, or the residual buoyancy inherent to Randvi’s touch, but Eivor believed her, and followed happily back into the longhouse to enjoy the warmth and light of her community. Light which even the absorbing shadow of her angry Jarl could not fully extinguish.

[echoalias]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed) Characters: Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Randvi (Assassin's Creed), The Raven Clan Additional Tags: Female Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Randivorprideweek2021, Fluff Summary:

Randivor Pride Week, Prompt 1: Pining when you are nearby.

Both Eivor and Randvi have busy schedules maintaining Ravensthorpe and it's people, but manage to find time for themselves.

***************

Excited to participate in Randivor week :D  Sadly did not have time to write something for all the prompts, and haven’t completely refined/edited the ones I have completed.  But what the heck!  Enjoy! XD

[author-morgan]

🔥 + Eivor + Snow

It’s not the first time Eivor has been wrong about the weather, and with the snow swirling in the air and hardly able to see your outstretched hand, you think it may be his last. Returning to Fornburg in this storm is a fool's hope. For now, you both want shelter, a dry place to wade out the worst of it. Sýnin croaks overhead, swooping down and perching on Eivor’s shoulder. If the raven’s squawking is anything to go by, then he’s found something. It’s barely a shack, but it has four walls, a roof, and a crumbling stone chimney. He starts a fire, and then his stubbornness kicks in, thinking he can endure the night alone, but the last thing you want is to wake and see he’d frozen in his sleep. Going over to him, you wriggle yourself into his embrace and let a hapless kiss turn into something more. It’s a clumsy affair and far from how you and he imagined a first time together —but it keeps your blood flowing, and between Eivor and the fire, you won’t go cold waiting for the storm to pass.

[send me a 🔥 and a character name and/or prompt word and I'll write a spicy headcanon]

[echoalias]

I posted 125 times in 2021

118 posts created (94%)

7 posts reblogged (6%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 467 tags in 2021

#female eivor - 92 posts

#acv photomode - 92 posts

#ac valhalla - 90 posts

#assassins creed valhalla - 86 posts

#wrath of the druids - 33 posts

#randivor - 27 posts

#eivor/randvi - 19 posts

#randvi/eivor - 18 posts

#acv discovery tour - 5 posts

#acv fic - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#while i reread it a thousand times for plot holes and repetitive writing and bad grammar and radnvi etc xd

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

23 notes • Posted 2021-06-04 20:20:59 GMT

#4

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)

Characters: Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Randvi (Assassin's Creed), The Raven Clan

Additional Tags: Female Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Randivorprideweek2021, Fluff

Summary:

Randivor Pride Week, Prompt 1: Pining when you are nearby.

Both Eivor and Randvi have busy schedules maintaining Ravensthorpe and it's people, but manage to find time for themselves.

***************

Excited to participate in Randivor week :D  Sadly did not have time to write something for all the prompts, and haven’t completely refined/edited the ones I have completed.  But what the heck!  Enjoy! XD

24 notes • Posted 2021-06-24 06:21:12 GMT

#3

As much as I love Eivor’s hair, damn is it difficult to draw! XD

24 notes • Posted 2021-03-23 21:20:47 GMT

#2

So, Randivor headcannon I'll never have time to write but I need out of my head:

Olympic AU! (Because wasn't that fun to watch?! :D)

Firstly I thought Eivor would compete at Modern Pentathlon, but then I discovered Sport Climbing was a thing.

So yeah, Eivor's an awesome sports climber.

After her parents died she went a bit feral (pickpocketing/theifery/trespass etc, winding up gangs in her spare time) and started honing her parkour - to escape police or said gang people or just for the sheer joy of being in high places.

Naturally, she got pretty good at it! And then she found a club where she could climb things and maybe even win money for it? Sweet!

And of course Randvi would have to be her manager/coach. She used to compete herself but had a fall and got an injury that forced her retirement. Moved more into admin/organisation, found up-and-coming - and cocky and abrasive and temperamental - star Eivor. Decided to take her on despite Eivor's reputation.

They clash a little bit, until Randvi learns how to press Eivor's buttons and somehow it works, and drives Eivor higher and faster than her previous coaches who tried to cool her down, make her less reckless. Randvi hones Eivor's quick-thinking and love of a challenge.

Maybe they occasionally practice against each other - or Eivor challenges Randvi to try climbing again - and Eivor let's Randvi win. But not all all the time.

Maybe one day Randvi is doing a demonstration but she's out of practice and slips, and Eivor's there to catch her.

Maybe Eivor takes a bad tumble off the wall - "I told you to use a rope, Eivor!" - and Randvi is worried - terrified, this is exactly what happened to her - and dashes over, only to find Eivor flat on her back but wearing a shit eating grin because she's just broken a personal best.

And Randvi's just broken the careful boundaries of personal space they've put between each other - coach and athlete, let's not get complicated.

Maybe that's when Randvi realises it's not just admiration, but love.

Insert tension!

Arms! All the tattoos! Very athletic body that Randvi has to spend a lot of time watching and guiding. And then a lot of time thinking about afterwards.

(And the banter, let's not get too objectifing!)

And Eivor just loves having someone to verbally spar and snark with, rather than telling her to wind her neck in. And she thinks Randvi is an actual goddess.

(And maybe Eivor does get too cocky and does hurt herself, and obviously needs help icing a wrist or an ankle, and Randvi is happy to help).

Basically, I want Eivor to kick arse and win gold, and then kiss Randvi on international television for the whole world to see - because catch up, Randvi, Eivor's been pining just as much as you!

Everyone wins! :D

But yeah, I loved sports climbing XD

25 notes • Posted 2021-08-15 19:59:00 GMT

#1

“No need, you say?”

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I’ve decided to abuse the photo mode - as I hate drawing backgrounds - and take Eivor and Randvi on a tour of the world together!  (Just slowly, as I take forever to draw things XD).  First, let’s start close to home...

33 notes • Posted 2021-03-23 18:40:53 GMT

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