#Genderfluid Eivor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peridot-tears · 1 year ago

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Valhalla DLC was set in France? Lmfao, damn. I didn't play past Odyssey, so all I know are genderfluid Eivor, Basim the Iraqi is a Norse god (??????), Kassandra shows up and is very shippable with Eivor, and also Eivor spends most of the game in England but eventually is buried on Haudenosaunee land. Also, helmet-eating pigs.

Yeah, I didn't realize Forsaken was such a controversial book when I read it, but then I actually played ACIII and it clicked. I was watching playthroughs and cutscenes from that game years before I actually played it. The ending monologue that was cut was actually what cemented my love for Connor. I stan that man so hard.

Also, TRUE. Corporate bureaucracy, over-delegating, and also executive decisions -- whether literally everyone else even a chip under them in hierarchy actually agrees or not -- are the unsung villains of wonky creative decisions. But do we know if they are the actual ones who decided Aya shouldn't be the real protagonist?

A lot of the time, I think about how actual inclusive decisions -- like well-written female protagonists, BIPOC characters whose design and storyline are actually decided by people of their respective cultures -- are things that marketing teams, writing teams, etc. actually push for, but someone -- executive teams, or hell, maybe it's the other way around and it's the marketing or creative teams -- decides it's too envelope-pushing or risky or unimportant. Which is how we end up with Ubisoft having a male and female protagonist share the screen (Syndicate, Origins), or having us pick a gender (Odyssey, Valhalla), instead of actually having an unquestionable female protagonist. And the marketing usually emphasizes the male character (side-eyeing Odyssey so hard).

Actually, I agree with you on the lore dumping via text take. It's more economical (although, I do think sometimes the main storyline is too tight; ACIII bothers me the most because they just casually drop a bomb like "oh btw Ratohnhaké:ton is the grandson of the Clan Mother" and you're like, Literally NOTHING in the gameplay shows ANY indication of that). I think Syndicate especially did a good job on that front, because we got to see Shaun and Rebecca banter, and also Shaun be extremely British, in the database notes.

But the thing that bothers me in particular is the Isu info-dumping. Like, ooooof. In ACIII, I just could not take to running around the cave listening to Juno tell the story of how she had to kill Aita. Same with Odyssey, where I ran around the entrance to Atlantis listening to Aletheia talk through each and every pillar. You just...kind of stand there and listen to them drone on and on about Isu history, in the vaguest terms possible. It's not even written, you just sit there listening to someone monologue.

Also, I'm new to video games in general (started playing in college, and so far every game I've actually finished is AC -- listen, listen, one of the only other games I played was Sekiro, and that thing is rage quit fuel ok), but is this much text normal?

Omg I was also hoping Shao Jun would be the Jade protagonist, but all we got was a Qin-era game that looks like a sad attempt at imitating Wo Long Fallen Dynasty lol. Missed opportunity -- Ming Dynasty is such an interesting time period, the last Han-ruled era sandwiched between two long periods of foreign rule. But try telling Ubisoft that, especially the western side.

Omg, idk if you're familiar with Mo Dao Zu Shi (the Chinese sword gays you see all over Tumblr), but there are so many adaptations of the book, and the book is so focused on telling us that everyone is an unreliable narrator, even ME, the NARRATOR, that like. If you don't live off fanon, you don't actually have a lot of material lol.

Also, headcanon accepted. Finally, a way to reconcile Ziio telling him to fuck off because he'd "lied" and her own in-game monologue about fearing his ambition and influence on Ratohnhaké:ton.

(The kiddo grew up just fine, you and the Turtle Clan did such a good job on him 😭😭😭)

"Except ACIII. You get the remaster for free. ONLY the remaster," Ubisoft says.

"But Mr. Ubisoft," we cry, "when will you remaster ACI?"

"Who?"

Irt Shao Jun's Name

Why is it even spelled "Jun"? Even in her first appearance in Assassin's Creed: Embers, Ezio and Sofia pronounce it "Shao Yun."

It's...a mixed bag in Chinese fandom, as far as I've seen. There are no official characters for her name, and without them, we don't know what her name means or even how to correctly pronounce it because there are no tones. Fans usually pick a number of characters to spell out either Shao Jun or Shao Yun, which means her name is usually pronounced differently, with different meanings.

Tbfh, I always favored 绍君 for her name, AKA Shao Jun with "Shao" being a surname to mean "carry on" and "Jun" being a word to describe a gentleman/someone of noble birth and bearing. It bears a lot of power.

In the official AC novels by Yan Leisheng, he uses the 少芸，or Little Yun, which has me taken aback because I've always read Shao Yun as her full name, meaning "Shao" would be a family name, not a prefix. I guess both would work, given that she's a palace concubine. The "yun" he uses means "rue," the flower, which is fitting for a concubine, but doesn't bear the same weight and power as the "jun" I chose for her.

Either way, Ubisoft can't commit to her name. They spell it one way, then pronounce it another. Even the novelization is apparently officially non-canon, meaning once again, the VIBE of this girl is completely up to fanon.

#wait waIT roy mustang is arno??????#this i GOTTA see #if only elise were riza hawkeye #but also as a virgo #i approve of fellow disasters #pour one out brother #tears falling like peridots #ac #teecupangel

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years ago

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Behave

Wanted to write for Eivor desperately bc I love her. Also ty to @mika-aris for being my cheerleader during this!!!

!!!Minors please do not Like or Reblog as this is an adult work, please respect my boundaries!!!

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit Like- and plz do not look respectfully, leaving horny tags fuels me!

Summary: You and Eivor have always had a flirtatious relationship, resulting in many close encounters. As a hunter, you go on trips to feed the settlement, recruiting warriors to come with you. When you offer to Eivor, she offers a counter of a trade. Private lessons to teach you how to fight, and in return she will give you company. What a shock she's in for when you show her you know damned well how to fight- and how to pin a big girl like her. Or. In which you pin Eivor in a spar match and she's Very horny about it.

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Valhalla

Relationship: Eivor/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Eivor is genderfluid and fem presenting atm, Eivor has a penis, Reader is gender neutral and genitalia is ambiguous so all can enjoy, No penetration or anything just dry/clothed humping

Words: 4k

__________

You would always rather be the hunter than the prey.

You were the hunter of your settlement inside the Raven Clan. Working alongside Petra and Wallace to ensure your entire settlement had the meat necessary for the feasts that were held often. The cattle could only birth so quickly, and the game within the forest could only be hunted so often before they, too, would deplete. Petra and Wallace stuck more to your island and its surroundings, while you preferred to venture off.

This normally resulted in you recruiting a few others to tag along, not to help with the hunt, but to help with the load you would return with. The furs were turned to furs for beds, the bones turned to weapons or arrow tips. Nothing ever went to waste.

The others you would recruit were simply to help cart back or boat back the hunts and to set up camp. And, of course, to provide intimidating company. You did not look to be a warrior yourself; You knew this. You did not have the rugged scarring of the others, or how they swung heavy axes over their shoulders and walked with swagger. But you were deadly with a bow, even deadlier with a blade in your hand. Silent, never startling your prey.

~Rest under the cut~

The only one who could hear you was the beloved Wolf-Kissed. Someone you had admired since back in your last settlement. Her braided red hair, all her tattoos, her crooked smile and the cocky prowess in her step. Or how she played with the little ones, chasing them in all her huge glory and her cloak making her appear all the larger.

You were close enough with the Jarl’s right hand. Enough that Eivor would seek you out, not just for questions or archery tips, but just to sit with you. Like when you were sharpening blades outside in the nice weather, how you’d heard her stalking up to you. She’d make conversation, her eyes watching you sharpen the blade and you looking up at her from under your lashes.

“Skilled hands.” She’d tell you, watching how you’d spin the knife in your grip with just your fingers.

You’d smile back up at her, sweet as could be. “Is it the skill that captures your attention, Wolf-Kissed? Or is it the implications beneath said skill that does?” Before you’d flip the knife in your grasp with a little toss and hold the hilt out to her. Always delighting in the smirk on her lips and her dark green eyes looking you up.

“A question I am sure you would like the answer to, hunter.” She’d tease back, taking the blade from you with her calloused fingers brushing your hand.

The flirting was heavy between you two. You suspected she merely had a strong sexual appetite, something you could satisfy. Yet, she never acted. An eternal tease.

Whether she was denying herself for the sake of denial. Or if she truly just had a flirtatious, friendly relationship with you was a question you never thought you’d get an answer to.

The question that leads to your answer is one asked in the longhouse.

A feast is going on at the time. Warriors and civilians alike enjoy the night of boosting morale. Someone is singing, someone is playing a lyre, another is telling tales of their battles and memories of the gods aiding them in said battles. Little ones are delighted by all, running about and through legs and giggling up a storm as they chase Mouse around. The large, white, domesticated wolf that seemed keen on staying in Eivor’s room lest it was to play with the children.

You’re sitting in your own corner on a wooden box, your feet propped up and one leg over the other. You work on your whittling project, carefully carving the raven’s wings with each painstaking feather. You like the noise around you, your own plate of food and mead long since downed. Your journal to your other side, containing details of where you were to hunt next. A rough sketch of a map and location you wanted to go to, and who pledged to help.

“Not enjoying yourself?” Comes that low, raspy voice in its forever tease. You peek up through your lashes to see Eivor approaching, a sway to her hip. Like a prowling wolf.

“On the contrary, I am. I like when it gets loud.” You tease back on your last words, flashing her a smile and enjoying the way her eyes narrow in challenge.

You move, sitting upright and kicking the box over to her that you had been using for your legs. Eivor bows her head politely, taking the seat offered and swinging her cup back to drink her last of mead before setting it to the side.

“You are recruiting for your next hunt?” She hums to you, glancing over to your journal. You follow her gaze briefly before returning your eye down to the tedious task of carefully carving out feathers.

“Yes...Why? Are you interested in attending this time?” You speak as you lift the charm in your hand, twisting it about in the light to get a good look at it. You draw it back to your lap when satisfied, looking towards her with a cocked head. “Or do the gods call you out once more, no time for play?”

Eivor’s sparkle in her eye returns at your playfulness and you like the look she gives you. That slow glance down to your lips, down your neck and body. She gives you a once over, a hum to her throat and leaning back against the wall with crossed arms as she does it. Making herself appear bigger, broader than she already is. A tone of amusement in her voice when she speaks. “Play time is what you call it?”

“Thought pups like you would call it that. Free to run and wrestle with who you please.” You struggle not to smirk at calling her a pup. Watching her eyes narrow but seeing a slight darken to her cheeks.

Oh? Perhaps the Wolf-Kissed had something you could dig your teeth into.

After a moment, you press again. “Are you interested in joining? You would not hunt. I merely request aid in bringing my boon back to camp. Just some muscle and company with a pretty face.”

“Perhaps. If you would accept a trade.” Eivor replies smoothly, her eyes sweeping you over and making you pause at what she might be implying. You lick your lips, suddenly much more interested in her than your project. You set it in your lap, giving her your full attention and cocking your head to glance her over.

“Loki kisses your gaze this evening,” You speak with a narrow of your gaze at the smirk playing on her lips. The sparkle in her eye. Gods- any that would hear you- she is deathly beautiful. “But, I shall bite. What limb must I give up to relish in your company, o’ Wolf-Kissed?”

“You would give a limb for my company, hunter?” It’s spoken as a jest, a light tease. A grin now reaching the apples of her cheeks, her sharp canines on display.

Gods help you, you wanted her to sink her teeth into your flesh.

“And you would give up your important duty of establishing alliances just to help me drag back prey,” You quip back quickly, leaning on your knees now so you can lean forward towards her. Your heart stutters when her eyes fall to your lips, but you mock obliviousness. “Seems we are on equal footing of desiring company.”

There’s a moment of pause where Eivor just looks at you. Her tongue flicking across her lips and a smile playing on her lips. She pushes from the wall, leaning on her own knees. Close enough to you that you can feel her breath when she speaks.

“I am told that you fight well with a dagger and bow. That your skills put down wild animals with ease- no matter the size. And yet, those around worry you do not know how to fight without your tools.” She speaks quiet, like it was just for you two to hear. You hold back a smile, biting your tongue as you realize where this is going. “Private lessons. I want to train you. Make sure you can hold your own in a fight if you lose your weaponry.”

“And since when do you believe the local gossip, Eivor?” You murmur, pushing your luck by shifting a bit to lean the tiniest bit closer. Relishing in the way you can hear her breath still, how you watch her pupils dilate for more reasons than just the candlelit hall.

“I accept your trade,” You say, leaning back and stretching your arms above your head to work out kinks from sitting there for so long. You pretend you do not see the way Eivor’s eyes sweep your frame. A hungry wolf. “When shall we begin this ‘training’ I seem to oh so desperately need?”

“Tomorrow at dawn. Meet me at the nearby clearing.” She speaks as she moves to stand. You watch her, your eyes following her just as hungry and noting the sway in her step. Even as she joins the others and gets rowdy with them. Slaps on the back or grasping someone’s nape and fondly bumping their heads together.

You sigh quietly to yourself when your heart flutters. Letting a breath out you didn’t know you had been holding. You’d...always wanted an excuse to get closer to her. Something more meaningful than just conversations. To be able to touch her in some form or another.

Regardless. You were quite looking forward to seeing Eivor’s face when she realized that you weren’t just some hunter. You knew how to fight, and you did it well. You were ready to protect the settlement and use whatever was on hand. Yes, you fought better with your weaponry. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t know how to knock someone on their ass and the get the upper hand.

The bigger they are...

You enjoy the rest of the feast with a feeling of eyes following you. Whenever you casually glance over you can see how her eyes follow you, peeking over her horn with her lips quirking into smirk.

You wanted to wipe that look right off her face.

That night, you sleep well. Rising early in the morning like you always did to get a good start of the day. You go through your morning routine of waking Petra and Wallace, which goes about as well as every morning. With both of them grumbling at you and Petra’s hand waving you away. You set about setting everything out for them to remind them of the stuffing of a few heads to be done today before leaving a note saying you’ll be out for the day.

The clearing was a ten-minute ride on horseback. Your beloved mare, Daffodil Violet Glenda Charolette the First, or merely Daffy for short, carried you there. All the while you lovingly chatted to her about what a good girl she was. Even doing so as you hopped off once you reached the tree line where you’d have to do the rest on foot. Tying her up and patting her side as she nosed at you in a little push. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. You make a massacre of these flowers- know they’re your favorite, big girl.”

The walk from there is just a few minutes. You know you’re close when you hear the stream nearby. The break in the tree line revealing a near perfect circle of clearing. Beautiful little yellow and purple flowers in bloom among the wild flowers and grass. Butterflies fluttered about, the warm sun casting a beautiful glow on the world as it raised above the trees to shine its light onto the world.

In the middle of the clearing was Eivor. Already setting a fur up to the side and deerskins that you assumed were full of water. She shrugs out of her heavy fur and armor, setting that beside the fur. Her weaponry follows, axe and shield lain down cautiously.

“If I did not know any better, I would assume you were trying to court me.” You speak teasingly as you approach, watching her lift her head to look at you with a sparkle in her eyes. “What? No flowers?”

“I did not take you as the type to want flowers.” Eivor chuckles softly, standing to greet you. She towers over you when you approach, before she bends down to pluck a wildflower from the ground. Tucking it behind your ear when you are close enough and making your cheeks burn. “Forgive me. I shall remember for next time.”

You scoff at her, despite your heart’s pounding and your face burning. You lightly shove her, laughing when she catches your arm to tug you closer, leaning down towards your face. A form of intimidation, despite her grin. Her eyes looking down towards your lips...

You lightly bump your forehead to hers. Just hard enough to hurt to make her let you go before you move away from her. Getting some distance before she can grab you again. It’s worth the headache you’d have later just to see her bewildered expression. Going from startled, shocked, to impressed when Eivor offers you a crooked grin. “So. You do know how to fight. This makes things more fun.”

“As I told you before, O’ Wolf-Kissed,” Your voice coming low and teasing as you shed yourself of your cloak to give yourself more freedom. “Do not listen to gossip.”

Eivor is bigger than you, broader. She towers over you. It would be foolish to charge her, even while she’s taken off guard. It would be like hitting a wall. Instead, you stalk around her, letting her eyes watch your every move. You feel like you do when you are hunting, seeing a great bear ready for your dagger to swiftly end its life.

But there are no weapons here. Only bare hands and violence.

Eivor’s weakness, as you know, is she is not a patient woman. Seen when her fingers twitch, starting to growl at you when you don’t immediately attack her first. She charges you when you come in front of her, and you assume she expects her sheer size to take you out like a raging bull. You wait to feel the wind brush you to signal her closeness, quickly moving to the side and sweeping out your leg, forcing her to trip over your calf.

“Oldest trick in the book, Eivor, come on.” You tease. Only to yelp when she grabs your ankle and yanks you down onto the ground. You both laugh as you roll quickly, moving too quick for her to yank you into her grasp.

Her size and strength should have had you down before you could blink. But the gossip seemed to forget that though you did not raise your blade to man, you knew how to get your grasp out of a raging bear or wolf. And your dearest Wolf-Kissed looking at you with a snarl and laughter in her voice as she lungs for you was no different.

You two go tumbling on the ground, ending up being locked in a grasp where you can keep slipping just out of her grip. Until she becomes too impatient, losing her sense when you keep slipping. It leaves her open, vulnerable.

You strike then.

You force your weight forward to knock against her, hitting your knee into her stomach to make her gasp sharply as her air is knocked from her. It gives you enough time to use her own unbalanced weight against her, knocking her onto her back and climbing quickly on top of her. Straddling her stomach and slamming your knees into her hands to keep them underneath you and at her sides, knowing your leg power was much better than your upper body. You slam both your hands on either side of her head in the grass to keep your balance, caging her.

You’re both panting. Your breath mingling and your shadow casting over her. It doesn’t stop the sun from reaching her, kissing her tanned flesh. Her cheeks are flushed from exertion, her red hair sprawled around her and giving her the image of a lion. Her gaze is half lidded, her lips parted with each breath and her eyes flickering downwards towards your lips.

“Caught you.” You huff out, trying to ignore the feeling in your stomach at her gaze. Hungry, wanting, with a subtle tilt of her head back. It lets you see the glow of sweat clinging to her, and your mouth waters with the need to taste the salt of her skin.

“So you have.” She murmurs, her tone soft and low. It does no favors for how you feel right now. “And what do you plan to do with your caught prey?” Her tone is even lower, that damned smirk playing on her lips. She could fling you off if she wanted to. She was strong enough to. She’s not even struggling.

“That depends,” You murmur, leaning a bit closer to gauge her reaction. And judging by how she tips her head, her lashes fluttering and her lips parting, you take these all as good signs. You lean closer, close enough your noses brush and you can see her sun kissed freckles and her vivid green irises. “How long will you let me pretend you are prey?”

“As long as you are atop me? I cannot see myself anywhere else today.” She says a bit too breathily to just be exertion.

You don’t hesitate to lean forward the rest of the way to press your lips to hers. Eivor meets you with hunger, her hands finally working their way out from under your knees to reach up and cup your face. Your heart stutters, her calloused thumbs brushing against your cheeks as you reach to cup the side of her neck.

She tastes like berries from this morning, sweet and tart against your tongue. You moan into her mouth, parting your lips and matching her pace as you lick your way into her mouth. She mimics your sound, low and guttural in her throat with one of her hands falling from your cheek to grip onto the nape of your neck instead.

Eivor’s sighs into your mouth make you shudder at how pliant she’s being. When the kiss is broken, you don’t restrain yourself from kissing down from her mouth, over her cheek, down to her jawline where she willingly tilts her head for you. Allowing you to sink your teeth lightly into the tattooed flesh there and tracing downwards with your tongue.

Her moan when you sink your teeth into her neck makes your head spin. How her hands slide down your back, over the curves of your side to grip your hips and dragging them downwards. You don’t stop her, letting her hands guide you down from straddling her abdomen to instead her hips. The weight of your ass pressing against her.

Eivor groans low in her throat, and you move from her neck to kiss her again. Letting her hands guide your hips back and forth, grinding against her and feeling your body tremble with the heat coursing through you. Feeling that vague hardness under your body, slotting directly against you. Vaguely hidden by the thickness of both of your pairs of clothing.

“Eivor-” You moan as you part the kiss from her. Her hands only grip you harder, her hips starting to come up into you every time she jerks you forward. Hard enough that you can spread your legs a bit more across the broadness of her hips and feeling the friction with her.

You bite your lip, letting your body fall forward so you can rest your face in her neck. Your arms keep you propped up on your forearms, your fingers sinking into her hair to pull on it. Eivor growls in your ear, turning her head to press her lips to your temple and starting to murmur things to you as her hips come up against you. Like she’s trying to fuck you through your clothes.

Her deep voice makes you dizzy all the while she murmurs, ‘There you are, I have you.’ ‘Wish these clothes were not upon our bodies.’ ‘Want to taste you, want to make you cum-’ ‘Ambrosia will not taste nearly as good as I know you shall taste.’

There’s a wet patch on the front of your clothes as your eyebrows knit and you cling to her. Panting as you feel the fluttering in your abdomen, your hips starting to move in time with her tugs until you’re practically humping her.

You yelp as you’re rolled over, Eivor’s body like that of a bear in how it can cover yours easily. Her forearm presses into the ground beside your head to keep herself up, her other hand gripping your hip to force you to tilt them upwards so her own can hump against you. Like this, she can get deeper strokes, feeling the muscles in her body flexing when you reach up to loop your arms around her neck and dig your fingers into her hair.

You cum first, a cry from your lips that is quickly silenced when the hand by your head comes over your mouth. You moan into her hand frantically, your hands moving to grip her wrist as your eyes roll into the back of your head and you’re cumming in your clothes. Your hips stuttering upwards into her frantic, harsh humps against you until she’s snarling like a wolf. Her features scrunching up, eyebrows knitting as her hips stutter and she’s cumming with you.

You can feel the wetness against the front of her pants, pressed flush against you and allowing you to feel the hard outline of her through her clothes.

You’re both panting. Eivor moves to press her forehead to yours, her eyes closed while you peek at her through your lidded eyes. It’s quiet, a shared moment between you two until you break it with a small laugh. “You did not actually believe I needed training, did you, Eivor?” You say it accusingly, watching the way her lips quirk into a smile that she hides by turning her face to press into your neck.

“By the gods- private lessons my arse.” You laugh breathily, the dull thrumming of your heartbeat still felt in your body. You can hear her chuckling into your neck, a kiss pressed there that makes your heart flutter a bit harder. You truly did love her.

“Private lessons in trade for my company on your hunt,” Eivor murmurs, a reminder of the trade as she kisses up to your ear to nip it. No better than a grinning pup as she speaks low into your ear. “Perhaps you do need training. Shall your silver tongue work better elsewhere than just speaking insults towards me?”

You flush red, shoving at her and taking advantage of her weakened state to roll her back over. You wrap a hand loose around her neck, straddling her hips and delighting in how she looks at you so hungrily. A wolfish grin upon her lips as you huff, “If anyone needs ‘training’, it is you. Shall I teach you to behave like a good pup, o’ Wolf-Kissed?”

You delight in the way she bites her lip. How Eivor groans low in her throat like the idea of being made to submit under you was the goal all along.

You put pressure on her throat, delighting in the shocked, aroused look crossing her features when you growl out low. “I was not made to obey. But you, Eivor? I shall teach you to heel.”

And oh, you would make this puppy howl.

#Eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #Eivor x reader #Assassins creed #Assassins creed valhalla #nsft #lemon #Genderfluid Eivor #Trans Eivor #princess writing #reader insert

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