#i have to do double math work and government

[hewasanamericangirl]

i’m hungry again

[kkpwnall]

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

part two | rated t | 4k words [ part one ]

all my thanks and love for @fragilecapric0rnn for beta reading again. thanks for your help, and for kindly correcting my silly mistakes 💜

Eddie catches all the not-so-subtle winks Dustin throws him every time one of the kids wheedles details about the next campaign out of him, or Robin gets him going on government conspiracy theories, or Steve cracks him up with a bitchy remark.

The kid’s about as subtle as a train full of cowbells crashing into a packed clown car.

But he makes it seem so easy, to just… be their friend. Too easy. As if Eddie doesn’t have a lifetime of reasons not to.

Against his better judgment, slowly but surely, they’re eroding his finely-honed walls. Growing like moss, like ivy between the cracks.

The kids barge in one day arguing at full volume. Steve trudges in behind them and drops into the crummy plastic chair closest to Eddie’s bed, the one usually occupied by Wayne or Dustin. Well, when Dustin’s not going toe to broken toe with his friends over—

“We can’t split the party under these conditions!”

[ keep reading below, or read on ao3 ]

Steve heaves a ragged sigh, and Eddie watches as if entranced by the complicated movements of Steve’s fingers as he alternates pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging over his eyes.

He looks wrung out. When was the last time he got a decent night’s sleep?

“So someone has to pull double duty. We’ll draw straws and rotate every week,” Mike says, like he’s being the pinnacle of reasonableness. Whatever it is, Eddie’s sure he isn’t.

“That’s not fair! We should just pull someone off and make them exempt. Like Nancy or El, someone we need on more useful things.”

“What the hell are you little gargoyles arguing about?” Eddie reaches for his DM baritone and comes up short. Maybe his diaphragm got rearranged with all the rest of his guts.

It still works to cut through the kids’ argument though. Steve shoots him a grateful look.

“We’re trying to decide what everyone in the party would do in the inevitable zombie apocalypse,” Mike hurries to explain.

“Inevitable..?” Eddie glances out the window he can just barely see from his position on the bed.

It’s been weeks since they wasted Vecna, with no sign of his sorry ass returning. No blood and ash raining from the sky, no earthquakes splitting the town apart, and definitely no zombies.

“Yeah, ‘cause see, if we’ve got El on recon, Nancy and Lucas take point with ranged weapons. Argyle’s in charge of foraging and cooking—”

Steve groans and slumps back in the seat as the kids pick up steam again. He’s so dramatic, Eddie can’t help a snort of laughter he covers with a cough. Steve’s got a hand splayed over his face, from his jaw up into his hairline, like he can block out the whole world. Or at least this one conversation.

With hands like that, maybe he can...

“But someone’s gotta stay back and guard the base! And you can’t have one person on watch, what if they fall asleep or get attacked or—”

A stupid little smile curls over Eddie’s lips as he watches Steve out of the corner of his eye while the kids keep arguing.

“We’re thirteen people now, Mike! There’s no way to divide watch shifts evenly between thirteen people and twenty-four hours in a day! Even Holly can do that math!”

Eddie whips around as reality drops on him like a load of every perfidious brick this group has worn down over the past couple weeks.

“What did you just say?”

Dustin gives him a disappointed look, “C’mon, Eddie, I know you of all people can do this math. Thirteen—”

No way. Absolutely not. That cannot possibly be correct. It has to be a mistake. It has to.

Eddie does a headcount, checking them off on his fingers hidden under the thin hospital sheets to double check their math. Someone got counted twice or not at all.

His three Hellfire gremlins plus Lady Applejack and Red. Nancy and Robin and Steve round out the Hawkins crew. Add in Supergirl and Zombie Boy with their whole “saving the world” schtick for an even ten, and now he’s really starting to sweat. Then there’s Jonathan and that guy Argyle. Plus Eddie makes…

“Oh my god, I’ll do it! I’ll be the designated hitter,” Steve half-shouts. The kids just stare at him blankly, and he sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes so hard Eddie’s surprised he doesn’t black out from it. “I’ll take the double shifts in your make believe zombie apocalypse. Happy?”

Steve’s hand, the one that was covering his face, sits warm and heavy over the sheet covering Eddie’s trembling hand. Eddie has no idea how or when it got there, or if Steve even really registers where it’s landed. Not exactly holding his hand, not with the sheet between them, but definitely there. Something to focus on that’s not how he already died and he’s still being fucking haunted by the spectre of his birth.

So no, he’s not happy, and neither are the gremlins. They immediately start shouting over each other to argue with him.

“Out!” Steve starts to rise from the chair, leaning his weight on Eddie’s hand and points at the door with a snap. “Get out! Go bother Max and Lucas with this shit, or I’m not driving your sorry asses back here tomorrow.”

And just like that, Dustin ushers them out, still grumbling and arguing. He shoots Steve a look, but Steve glares him down with a hand on his hip.

The door slams behind them and it’s finally, blissfully quiet.

“Jesus Christ with those kids,” Steve mutters as he reclaims his seat, “It’s like they can’t shut up for five minutes.”

Eddie is silent next to him in the bed, and he’s pretty sure if Steve’s hand wasn’t on his, it’d be shaking. The rest of him is. This clawing, aching, tingling vibration just under his skin. The tremor is coming from inside the house.

He knows better than this, he knows better, what the hell is he thinking.

He needs to stop fooling around and get his act together, or with his luck, there really will be a zombie apocalypse and all of these people will be casualties of it. All because of him.

“Sorry,” Steve says, sheepishly. “This is like, your room. I shouldn’t’ve kicked them out if you wanted them here. You just... you looked like you needed a break.”

“Yeah, I— yeah, it’s fine,” Eddie says on a rough exhale. Takes a steadying inhale. And judging by the bags under Steve’s eyes, “Looks like you could use a break yourself, man.”

“They’ve just been arguing about that stupid zombie apocalypse shit for hours!” Steve throws himself back in the chair and launches into his own rant.

One hand gestures wildly, digging through his hair and underscoring his words, while the other stays where it’s been planted, gently covering Eddie’s. Twitching and flexing occasionally.

He lets Eddie catch his breath. He gives him enough space that Eddie could slip his hand free, could pull away without making a big deal out of it. He has to feel Eddie’s hand by now, he has to. But he doesn’t move away.

Eddie doesn’t move away either.

He doesn’t have a good reason not to. In fact, he’s got nothing but good reasons to pull his hand back and let them both pretend like none of this ever happened.

But Steve’s hand is warm and solid over his, even through the sheet. And where would he put his hand anyway? Where would it go, untethered? If anything, it’d interrupt Steve’s flow, and it really seems like he needs to get all this off his beautifully hairy chest.

“—And they’re acting like it’s such a problem we’ve got an uneven number now!“

“Well they’ve kinda got a point. I mean, with thirteen…” Eddie interjects.

Steve flashes him a broad, cocky smile. “Hey, thirteen’s my lucky number.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie mumbles, mostly to himself.

Steve hears him anyway. “No, I’m serious! It’s been my jersey number since I was a kid. Like even way back when I was just playing tee ball. Oh, and get this! Somehow, all through grade school, I was number thirteen on the roll call list. Every year! I mean, that’s crazy, right?”

No, crazy is being pulled out of hell itself by the sheer force of will and determination of a guy whose lucky number is thirteen.

This is just too ironic for words. It’s bordering on absurd.

But Wayne’s always tried to tell him truth is stranger than fiction.

Eddie keeps his mouth shut with gritted teeth, holding back a laugh. Or maybe a scream. Either would land him in the loony bin, because once he started, he wouldn’t ever stop.

“And anyway, the way I see it, our luck’s never been better.”

That unsticks Eddie’s mouth.

“What?” he sputters. “Steve, three people are dead, Red and Henderson both have broken bones, and you got chewed on by fucking demon bats!”

Steve shrugs his shoulder loosely, like it’s just the price of doing business. “Yeah, but we actually figured out who’s behind all this shit. I mean like, everything, since ‘83. Since Will went missing and Barb... We finally got answers. And we closed all the gates now, for good. He’s gone. It’s over. And we’re all still here.”

Steve’s eyes slowly trace over Eddie’s own slightly mangled body. Over the tubes and wires snaking out between the bandages wrapped around his arms. Over the one taped across his cheek, until he meets Eddie’s eyes through his lashes. “We couldn’t’ve done it without you.”

Eddie doesn’t have a clue what to say to that. To any of it. The only thing he brings to the table are nerdy references and loud music and a penchant for getting anyone close to him killed.

But Steve makes all that sound like a good thing. Like Eddie is a good thing.

If he keeps this up, Eddie might almost start to believe him.

Steve clears his throat and releases Eddie from the trap of his honeyed hazel gaze, but not before Eddie sees the rosy pink color starting to tint his cheeks. The same heat rising over his own face.

“Sorry man, we’re doing a terrible job of letting you get any rest today. The kids came in here arguing, and then I just went off like that. I can go, if you want some peace and quiet,” Steve pushes the chair back, and Eddie’s fingers twitch under his hand.

Yes. “No, you… you can stay. If you want.” Eddie grabs the remote with his free hand and waggles it at him, plasters on a smile. “Let’s just watch some tv. Put on whatever you want.”

Steve doesn’t look quite convinced, but he does scootch his chair back closer to the bed. “No no no, it’s your tv, man. I know Dustin’s always stealing the remote.”

“C’mon, seriously…” Eddie thinks for a moment until he lands on, “What did you watch when you were home sick as a kid?”

“Uh no, absolutely not.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You’re gonna laugh...”

“Cross my heart,” Eddie says, with all the sincerity he can muster.

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, before he blows out an aggrieved sigh. “Alright, look… when I was little, like real little, like younger than the kids, my mom would set me up on the couch with a big blanket with a hot water bottle… And she’d put on General Hospital.”

Eddie presses his lips shut tight to contain his snort of laughter. It still blows his cheeks out though, and there’s a smile he can’t quite keep in.

Steve glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it.

Eddie shakes his head, grinning, “General Hospital it is.”

They surf the channels for a while but can’t find it playing anywhere. Instead, Eddie lands one of Wayne’s old favorite spaghetti westerns, and starts outlining all the tropes of the genre. But it turns out Steve’s grandpa was just as big a fan, and Steve matches him beat for beat as they roast the stilted dialogue.

Eventually, Steve’s eyelids start to droop. His head drops a few times, before he jerks back up, blinking hard. Eddie keeps talking to him, but softer now. Slower. More and more space between each sentence.

Steve’s breath slows and evens out, his chin tucks into his chest and one arm wraps around his stomach. He falls asleep in that uncomfortable hospital chair with his hand still over Eddie’s. 

It’s release day.

It’s finally, finally release day. Marked on his calendar and circled in red. Or it would be, if Eddie had a calendar. He’s never been good at keeping up with those kind of things.

The point is, he’s been counting down to this day for weeks. Weeks. But this is it, today’s the day.

He’s already been denied twice thanks to the government goons.

The first time, he was so out of it on painkillers, he didn’t even realize that maybe he should be taking their questions seriously. That one’s on him for answering everything in character as Samwise Gamgee.

The second time though, he’d bet his remaining guitar on petty revenge. All because he wouldn’t sign their stupid NDA without reading it thoroughly first. Or it could have been his demand for more than a pat on the back from Uncle Sam. Eddie wasn’t about to walk away from this all shit empty handed.

But all that’s settled now. He and Wayne got a modest farmhouse with some land, ready and waiting for them just outside of town. His name’s been cleared and the yokels bought the cover story, hook, line, and sinker. And there’s a stipend coming to a bank account with his name on it every month, as long as he keeps his trap shut. It’s enough that Wayne won’t have to work unless he really wants to.

All the doc has to do is sign his release form, and he’s gone. Eddie is leaving today or so help him—

But it’s not the doctor that comes through the door, or even Wayne.

It’s Steve.

With a “knock knock”, out loud, even as he knocks on the door, peeking around it, and beaming when he sees Eddie.

“Wayne sent me ahead with this,” he drops a hefty duffel bag on the foot of Eddie’s bed. “He and Dustin are just finishing up at the house, they’ll be here any minute.”

Eddie balks a little at that, but Steve chuckles knowingly.

“Don’t worry, Henderson’s leaving with me. I had to bribe him with a trip to the comic book store, but at least it’ll give you and Wayne some time to get settled at the new place.”

“Is it good?” Eddie can’t help but ask. Hates how small it comes out. There’s always a chance the suits decided to screw them over.

Steve answers with one of those soft smiles of his. “Yeah, man. It’s great. You’re gonna love it.”

“Good, good,” Eddie says absentmindedly. He has to tear his eyes away and grab the bag, start rifling through it. All the while trying not to wonder who picked out these clothes and who packed them up and—

“I’ll uh, give you some privacy,” Steve says as Eddie pulls out a heavy red plaid and a pair of sweats.

He pulls the curtain around Eddie’s bed between them, but he doesn’t leave. Instead he asks if Eddie wants the latest (and hopefully last) hospital gossip.

“Uh, duh! I gotta know if Luellen’s made a move yet.”

Eddie wrangles his arms inside the hospital gown and pulls it roughly over his head to throw it in a heap in the corner. Ooo-ing and gasping at all the right moments during Steve’s tales of intrigue.

He has to move slower than he wants to, has to take his time and sit on the edge of the bed, dangling his legs to the floor to shimmy into the sweatpants.

And whoever picked the flannel deserves a goddamn Nobel prize. He’s able to slip it on easily without agitating his remaining stitches or lifting his arms above his head. And once he’s got the buttons done up, it’s loose enough not to snag or cling.

Eddie digs around in the bag again and fishes out a pair of slip-on shoes. They’re not his, not his usual style, and definitely don’t go with this getup. But the worn leather is soft, and at least he doesn’t have to deal with the whole mess of bending over to tie them. Or— god forbid— ask Steve to come over and tie them for him.

That’s an ordeal he’s not sure he’d survive.

Whoever packed this bag is getting a fruit basket.

In a soft purple crown royal bag tucked in on the side, he finds his rings and his necklace, and it makes something in his heart clench. Something slots into place, just by sliding the rings back on his fingers, the pick over his head. Whole, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Screw the fruit basket, they’re getting a whole goddamn orchard.

Eddie’s been quiet for a long moment, not quite keeping up his end of the storytelling experience.

Steve’s gone quiet too, and Eddie’s not sure how long it’s been since either of them said anything.

On the other side of the curtain, Steve clears his throat, and his sneakers squeak on the tile as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Are you decent?”

Eddie snorts out a laugh. “I’m dressed if that’s what you’re asking.”

He catches the tail end of Steve’s eye roll as he pulls back the curtain. He looks Eddie up and down as he comes around. Smiles softly and gets comfortable on the foot of the bed, one leg folded underneath him.

“Ready to go?”

“You have no idea,” and Eddie has to fight the urge not to throw himself back dramatically on the bed. Damn the stitches.

“Yeah, I don’t blame ya. My longest stay wasn’t even half as long as they’ve kept you, and I was climbing the walls by the end of it.” He rubs unconsciously at the scar running through the edge of his eyebrow.

Eddie does not take his hand and pull it away to soothe the aching memory himself. He doesn’t even think about it, really. Definitely doesn’t have to distract himself with an old habit like sliding his rings off and on his fingers.

“What, unseasoned hospital food doesn’t appease your refined palette?” he teases in a haughty voice.

“If I had to eat one more piece of dry, rubbery chicken…” Steve threatens.

“No way, man, the pork chops are way worse.”

They argue back and forth, ranking the rest of the limited hospital menu on a scale of pudding cups to sawdust, and it’s good, it’s easy.

Until there’s a lull in the conversation, and Steve clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. Sits up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders like he’s psyching himself up.

“Hey so I was thinking… Maybe once you’re all cleared, I can take you out for dinner sometime? I promise it’ll be better than any of this crap.”

Steve looks so earnest, so hopeful, with that confident damn smile curving his lips and his heavy lidded eyes watching Eddie. His hands flex like he wants to reach for him. But he stays still and gives Eddie his space. Must somehow know Eddie would be even more likely to run if he did.

A tight knot of want and can’t claws roughly up Eddie’s throat and he’s pretty sure he stops breathing.

He has to tell him. Knowing Eddie, being friends with Eddie, it’s dangerous. It always has been. He’s let himself indulge in this fantasy for way too long. He has to put a stop to it, now.

It’s more dangerous than Dustin, than Wayne, than Chrissy. Not just a friend but something— someone more.

“Steve…” who Eddie cannot even begin to think about being anything. He won’t.

Eddie Munson is nobody’s happy ending.

“You don’t want— this,” he chickens out at the last second.

Steve’s smile slowly fades and he blinks a few times. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his head tilts to the side, considering for a moment. “I think you should let me decide what I want.”

And Eddie wants to scream.

This isn’t about you!

But of course, it is. It’s about him, and every single person that’s come before him, and every one that’s sure to come after him, and everything that has and will go wrong.

The words catch in Eddie’s throat, and he can’t say any of them. So he just sits there, frozen and silent and begging Steve to understand.

Steve looks away and lets out a long breath. Not quite a sigh as he shakes his head. He stands and starts heading towards the door.

He turns back before he gets there though, catching Eddie again in his earnest gaze.

“The real question: is what do you want, Eddie?”

And nobody’s asked him that in such a long time. Every day since he woke up in the hospital has been the same. All of his meals are pre-planned and brought at the exact same time, whether he’s hungry or not, whether he likes the food or can even keep it down or not. His schedule, from when to sleep to when to take his meds to when he does physical therapy, has been out of his hands. And then Dustin shows up with whoever he decides to bring with him that day.

Eddie’s been resurrected, but what choice has he really had?

Part of him, this new part of him born from his death and a second chance at life, is just daring him to see how far he can push his newfound luck. To prove once and for all if the curse really is broken.

Eddie’s never said no to a dare.

Steve turns to leave, one hand reaching for the door, and Eddie scrambles to his feet. Takes a few shaky stiff, baby deer steps forward as he calls him back, “Steve—”

He holds Steve’s gaze for an impossibly long moment, tracing the swirls and whorls and questions in his hazel eyes, his freckles and moles and scars.

Go big and go home.

“How about a kiss?” Eddie asks. “For luck?”

Steve’s face morphs through several expressions so fast, Eddie can’t keep track of all of them. He lands on something incredulous, his lips curving upwards in a smirk even as his eyebrows fall and pinch in the middle at the sheer audacity—

But he crosses the room in two swift strides to stand in front of Eddie. Throws a quick glance at the still-shut door, at his mouth, before meeting his eyes again. Eddie barely starts to nod, and Steve’s lips are on his.

His gentle strong hand around Eddie’s elbow reels him in, pulls him closer. Eddie’s lands on his bicep, and the flex of muscle ignites a frisson of sparks under his palm to race through his bloodstream.

Steve’s other hand caresses Eddie’s unblemished cheek. Like he’s something precious. Something to hold onto, something dear.

As far as kisses go, it’s Eddie’s first.

Soft, sure and confident, the kiss is everything Eddie could have ever dreamed of. Hurried— not as in frenzied. Hurried as in greedy. Desperate to steal the breath from his lungs before he’s even noticed it’s missing.

Eddie kisses Steve back with equal fervor, trying to pour everything he has, everything he wants, everything he fears into the movement of his lips, the sweep of his tongue.

Eddie’s hand joins Steve’s on his cheek, keeping him close. An anchor in the tsunami flooding his senses with everything Steve. Cherry lip balm and hairspray, fresh laundry, and the musky hint of sweat underneath it all. It’s intoxicating. Incomparable. Incredible.

And Eddie’s just gonna blame the weeks-long hospital stay for how fast he goes weak at the knees.

Steve’s sure, steady hand in the small of Eddie’s back guides him slowly backwards until his thighs hit the bed again, and he sits hard, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Eddie reaches for him, eyes wide and staring up at Steve through his lashes, hooking his fingers through his belt loops. Two steps away is too far but Steve wastes no time crowding closer to stand between Eddie’s legs. He gently tips Eddie’s face up with a featherlight touch and kisses him deeply while Eddie holds him firmly by his hips.

Consuming and consumed, devouring and devoured. Wanting and wanted.

When they come up for air, Steve swoops back in, once, twice, and a lingering third time, like he’s reluctant to stop. And Eddie strains his neck to meet him kiss for kiss.

Steve finally pulls away just far enough to sigh breathlessly against his lips, “Is that all you want, Eddie?” His eyes screwed shut tight.

No. Eddie wants everything. For now though, he’ll settle for– “Somebody said something about dinner and movie?”

“Oh so now there’s a movie, huh?” Steve says, but he’s smiling and nudges his nose against Eddie’s.

“Don’t go thinking I’m a cheap date now, sweetheart,” and Eddie’s smiling too. Smiling too much for more than quick kisses that skate across their lips.

With each peck, Eddie schemes how to get Steve’s lips on his again. How to keep him. Keep him safe.

They break apart when the sharp clack-clack of heels echoes down the corridor from Eddie’s room, heralding the doctor’s arrival.

Eddie was born under a bad sign. But maybe here, in this new life, he can make his own luck. 

[ also on ao3 ]

[highqueenofelfhame]

a/n: if you've been here for awhile or read through my masterlist, you might remember this one. it became a fan favorite but it was written when i first entered the fandom and there have been things i wanted done differently. things i wanted to rewrite or write better. so i'm doing it. it'll be the same story you love, if you love it, just better, longer, more thought out. a lot will stay the same but alot will change. if yu're wondering what the fuck i'm talking about, a rough version of this story exits on my masterlist titled "all i ask of you." anyway. i hope you enjoy this.

rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist

Sweat trickled in little streams down his back, gluing the tan, standard-issue shirt he wore to every dip and curve of his torso. On most assignments, Rowan Whitethorn didn't mind his uniform. Generally speaking, the material was lightweight enough in most climates that they stayed comfortable. The boots were heavy, sure, but they were comfortable. 

In the middle of the desert, he hated all of it. The best time of the day was when he took it off to duck under a cold shower, then crawled into bed in nothing but his undershorts. Unfortunately for him, that was a long way off. The sun scorched them to the bone, and the slight breeze did nothing but send sand whirling through the air. 

When Rowan got out of the Red Desert, he never wanted to see a single grain of sand ever again. 

He walked down the street to the two small houses they used as a base. If anything, they were more akin to rundown shacks in a shanty town, but it worked. One was used for communications, and all their tech was set up throughout various rooms. They took turns on night watch, monitoring the cameras and comms for anything that looked amiss. 

The other house was where they ate, bathed, and slept. Nobody had a semblance of privacy here, save for the shitty little bathroom. All the men but Lorcan doubled up in the rooms and slept on glorified cots every night, often mumbling to their roommates to stop tossing and turning. Their beds tended to creak and groan with every subtle movement. On bad days, tension soared until they inevitably went outside to beat each other senseless in the form of hand-to-hand combat practice.

The houses were on the outskirts of an impoverished chunk of land that couldn't even be considered a village at this point, though once upon a time, it had been a well-populated township. Now there were just rundown buildings and dilapidated houses that people crammed into for shelter. Less than two thousand people remained living in the desolate stretch of desert. All of them were skin and bones, the malnourished ghosts of who they used to be. 

Over their last few months of being abandoned in the Red Desert, they learned that the breadwinners of the family, usually men, pedaled bicycles to the surrounding towns for work. A few of them were forced to walk, which was a feat in itself– the closest town was ten miles away and would take them well over two hours to arrive. Rowan had also learned, mainly from the children, that the ones that walked stayed in cheap inns during the week if they could afford it. Everything else was funneled into food and any other necessities they required, including running water that they really only used to cook and bathe.

Most of the women homeschooled their children to the best of their ability. Generally, they could read, write, and perform basic math. Much else was lost due to the lack of accessible tools for anything beyond that. Rowan had an intense respect for the people that dwelled here and did their best with what they had. 

On the other hand, he could kill every government official who continued to leave these people behind. There was no excuse for such an extreme display of poverty in this day and age. It was made worse by how kind the people were. They lived in the worst conditions they had ever seen, yet still found joy in the little things.

Case in point: a few of the kids that Rowan gave the candy from his MREs to were chasing a soccer ball around the makeshift pitch Fenrys had built for them. He and his twin brother, Connall, were playing with the gaggle of teenage boys and girls, their bright laughter chipping away at his frozen heart. It had been long since anything had threatened to thaw his frozen core, but those children whooping and hollering got to him.

Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, shaking his head but offering a tight smile when they shouted for him to join them. If Lorcan hadn't summoned him, he probably would have. They had done a fat lot of nothing today besides trying to stay out of the sun. Rowan had only left the communications house less than an hour ago to stretch his legs. 

Once inside, he found Lorcan sitting at the desk in the room they considered their office. It wasn't much more than a couple of chairs and a folding table, but it got the job done. Rowan rapped his knuckles against the door frame as he entered and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest. 

"You wanted to see me?" There was no point in bothering with formalities unless people outside the Cadre were around. They rarely pulled rank amongst themselves. Rowan was second in command, but they usually viewed it as a partnership more than anything else.

"Yep," Lorcan exhaled, putting his pen down and bracing his arms on the edge of the table. Every muscle in his face was tense, down to the feathering of his jaw as he eyed Rowan. This didn't bode well. Whatever he was about to say wasn't good. There was no light hiding in the shadows of his dark eyes. Lorcan had a shit poker face when it came to bad news. With a jerk of his chin, he added, "Sit down." 

"What happened?" Rowan slid into one of the folding chairs across from him and braced his hands on his knees. 

 "We're going to be a team of six again, starting tomorrow morning." That was all? That didn't seem like the tragedy he looked ready to drop on Rowan's head. 

They used to be a group of six until Gavriel retired last year, and they still weren't used to being down to five men. While each of them brought forth their strengths and balanced out their weaknesses, an even number of people made things easier on missions because everyone could be paired off into two teams. During their last few, they had all wished for that extra body. Having another person would be great, especially if he was skilled enough to keep up with the rest of them. 

Though several special ops units existed in the Terrasen Navy, Rowan's was the most elite and the smallest. Every other team had at least a dozen men assigned to it, but it wasn't necessary with the Cadre, the name Rowan's ex bestowed upon them. All of them were over six feet tall and corded with muscle. What they lacked in numbers, they made up for in skill. There was a reason they didn't push to replace Gavriel when he retired. Nobody else was a match for them in any capacity and would have been in the way more than anything else. 

"Why don't you look happy about it?" Rowan asked, relaxing a bit and leaning back in his chair. Lorcan looked like he was grinding his teeth to dust and savoring the pain that came with it.

 "Because I'm not."

"You had to approve it. He must be good enough to hold his own with the rest of us." His commander wouldn't accept anyone unless he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could do his job with expert precision. 

Lorcan scratched his jaw, nails scraping against the stubble he hadn't bothered to shave away that morning as he said, "It’s not a he.”

Rowan’s blood turned to ice in his veins so quickly that he shivered for the first time in several months. Every hair on his body stood at attention, skin pebbling down his arms, shaking his head in a single sharp movement as he ground out, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know who she was. Her name had been whispered up and down the grapevine over the last few years as she quickly climbed the ranks. At this point, she was almost as decorated as he was, and he had been at it for three years longer. Thousands of women served in the various military branches, but only one had ever been good enough to break the glass ceiling and become a Ghost Leopard. 

The Ghost Leopards were Terrasen’s most elite special operations unit. No other military group came close to the skill and drive they had. Most people didn’t even try to join— the physical, mental, and emotional strength demanded was too much for many to handle. Rowan’s unit was the best the Ghost Leopards had to offer. 

Rowan knew she had been part of two different ops teams, but never in a million years did he think she would join his own. Not because she wasn’t good enough. There was no question in his mind that she didn’t belong. Lorcan disliked the woman on a good day, yet he had approved her joining the Cadre after putting personal bias aside. 

No, she had definitely earned it; he could admit that much. Rowan had just doubted that she would ever want to share any amount of oxygen with him ever again. Her assignment to the Cadre likely hadn’t been her own idea. Whoever initiated it must well and truly detest Rowan, though. The gods were playing a cruel, sick joke on him. 

Lorcan’s features were frozen with tension, lips curling at the corners in distaste as he said, “Aelin Galathynius arrives tomorrow.” 

~*~

All five men stood in a straight line, feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped behind their backs. They had decided on the dressed-down version of their uniform, foregoing the over shirts with patches, ranks, and names on them. They each wore the same tan t-shirt tucked into pants in a multi camouflage pattern in shades of brown. It perfectly matched the sandy ocean they were trapped in. 

Heavy black boots anchored Rowan to the ground while they watched the helicopter land a few hundred yards away, kicking up enough dust that they were all happy about the sunglasses and camouflage balaclavas they wore. Without them, the sand would be in every fucking orifice for days on end. 

The newest member of their team finally hopped out, landing with feline grace. To anyone else, she would have been unrecognizable with her face and eyes covered. Not even her hair peeked out as she walked toward them, heaving her bags higher on her shoulder. Rowan would know her anywhere, though.

It wasn’t until the helicopter returned to the skies and the dust settled that she finally pulled her balaclava down around her neck to expose her face. The aviator-style sunglasses stayed perched on her nose, and though her hair was slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck, the golden strands still shimmered in the sun. The only difference in her uniform was that she wore her blouse with the sleeves rolled up and over her elbows.  Seeing her like this made his vision cloudy at the edges, the memory of their first meeting creeping to the forefront of his mind. He forcefully shoved it away.

The sixty seconds it took her to be within ten feet of them seemed to happen too quickly and in slow motion all at the same time. No emotion flickered over her face, not even her mouth, which usually wore a smirk. Aelin Galathynius was all business.

Hearing her name multiple times in the last twenty-four hours had his mind twisted around itself in a tight knot he couldn’t unwind. Typically, everyone avoided bringing her up when they could, yet now he was seeing her in the flesh for the first time in years. With his heart trying to break his ribs, he was surprised that he heard Lorcan call her by her last name when she stopped before him. 

It probably killed her to do it, but she saluted him the way she would any other commander. Lorcan gave her a nod in return, and her body relaxed. Aelin’s bags slid from her shoulders and landed with a thud on the ground at her feet. Rowan heard her sigh for the first time in ages as her hands dropped to her hips, and she gave them all a once-over.

Light and mischief danced in her fiery blue gaze until she looked at him. Any semblance of emotion flickered out like he’d extinguished the fire that burned within. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her eyes look so damn empty when turned on him. Her dead gaze yanked him two and half years in the past, holding him at gunpoint as he remembered the first time she had ever looked at him that way. 

“I promise. Okay?” Rowan’s hands held Aelin’s cheeks like she was the most precious thing in the world to him because she was. It didn’t matter what he said or did, though. That heavy sadness wouldn’t dissipate, and she wouldn’t look at him. 

“Rowan, I told you–” 

“Baby, it’s the last one, and then I’ll take a job in the city, and it won’t be like this anymore. It’s going to get better, and we’re going to be okay.” He only had minutes left with her, and he hated wasting it like this. It would have been better spent sharing kisses or with him exploring her body to prove how much he loved her. Instead, when they woke up, Aelin had retreated so deeply within herself that he didn’t feel like he could reach her.

“You’ve said twice now that it was going to be the last time. When is it actually going to be the last time, Rowan?” Gods, he really didn’t want to fight with her before he left.

“This is the last deployment I’m going to make,” he swore, and he meant it. He’d already told his commander, and as much as he had hated it, at the end of the day, Lorcan understood. “I don’t want to fight with you right now.”

“I wanted you to stay and pick me for once, so I guess neither of us is getting what we want, are we?” The look in her eyes wasn’t one he’d ever received from her. There was no warmth of love, just a distant chill that felt so tangible goosebumps crawled along his skin. 

 “Aelin,” he sighed, tugging her until he could wrap his arms around her even though she tried to resist. At complete odds with her expressions and words, her arms tightened around his waist, and she fisted his jacket in her hands. Like this was their hardest goodbye yet, she refused to let him go. 

They stood like that for several minutes, Rowan’s lips pressed to the top of her head while he breathed in her scent one more time. Nothing ever came close to how much he missed her when he was gone. Every deployment, he took something of hers with him, falling asleep to the faint scent of jasmine until time washed away any sign of its owner. 

“You’re going to be late,” she finally said, pulling back and wiping her face with the back of her wrist. 

“This is the last time,” he swore for a final time, taking her face between his palms and wiping at her cheeks. Aelin nodded, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder. 

“Yeah. Okay.” The goodbyes were always hard, but this time was different. A warning bell was chiming in the back of his head, but he pushed it aside. They made it through everything else over the last five years, and they would pull through this, too. 

“I love you.” Rowan kissed her, his heart shattering at the feel of her quivering mouth against his. A sob slipped out of her lips, her shoulders caving in. Aelin shook her head, letting it fall to read against his chest. “Hey. We’re okay.”

They were. It was an argument they’d had over and over for the last few years. While Aelin loved active duty, she had taken a desk job a few months ago when they had agreed that when Rowan got back from his last deployment, it was his last. Lorcan had begged him for one more tour because Gavriel was talking about retiring, and he didn’t want to lose them both at the same time. The day Rowan returned and told his girlfriend he was doing one last twelve month deployment, it immediately became a fight that wouldn’t end.

Aelin was twenty-six and genuinely loved her job, but she had wanted to start planning their future. Rowan was twenty-nine, and while he did want those things, he still wanted to keep building his legacy and rake in every ounce of glory while he still could. He wanted nothing more than Aelin, and he knew they could stick it out for one more year. They were strong enough to handle anything thrown at them. Of that, he was absolutely certain. 

While the fighting had led to a lot of high tension in their house, they still loved each other at the end of the day. Even when it was hard, and they went months without hearing each other’s voices or seeing one another, they shared such a rare, blinding love that nothing could fracture it.  

“I love you,” he said once more, kissing her trembling lips and wiping her tears away. 

“I love you, too.” But her eyes didn’t meet his, and it was the image of her crying in the foyer that chased him into fitful sleep every night after.

 ~*~

“Aelin Galathynius,” Fenrys drawled, shaking his head as he took her in. Over the formalities of the situation, Aelin pulled off her sunglasses and dropped into a low bow with her arms spread wide. As soon as she pulled her eyes from Rowan and looked at their mutual best friend, she grinned. 

“At your service,” she crooned with a wink. Down the line, Rowan snorted and turned on his heel,  just about stomping the entire way back to the house. Aelin’s eyes rolled, and Fenrys held his arms open for a hug. With a squeal and a joyous giggle, she ran for him and leaped into his waiting arms. 

 “As soon as Salvaterre said we were getting a sixth again, I fucking knew it was you.” His voice was low in her ear as he spun them in a circle, finally putting her feet back on land so she could hug Connall and Vaughan. Aelin made no effort to further engage in conversation with Lorcan. They tolerated each other on a good day, and he was still watching Rowan as he disappeared into what she assumed was their living quarters.

 “I missed you the most out of everyone,” she told Fen as he hefted her bags over one shoulder and threw his other arm around her to lead her toward the house.

 “Even more than you missed Whitethorn?” It was a joke, one that wasn’t rewarded with laughter but by a swift jab to his ribs. He winced, lips pulling into a harsh frown. Aelin couldn’t help it. She smiled.

 “Is he still being a bitter asshole?”

 “Worse, if you can believe it,” Connall chimed in. A sigh was desperate to creep out of her lips, but she swallowed it down. She knew when she got the assignment that it wouldn’t be easy for her, Rowan, or anyone that had to be in close proximity to them. Aelin also knew that she could check the baggage at the door when it came down to doing their jobs. In their downtime, however… She was making no promises. 

“We cleared out a room for you. Fenrys can show you which one,” Lorcan shot over his shoulder as he walked past them, headed toward the house next to the one Rowan had entered. 

“I don’t need special treatment just because I’m a woman!” Lorcan merely waved dismissively over his shoulder and slammed the front door behind him.

“I promise there is no special treatment here in Hela’s fucking armpit,” Vaughan mumbled, nudging her with his shoulder as he brushed past. Indeed, it seemed their living quarters were a far cry from her house in Orynth. Not that the barracks or living situations on special missions were ever anything to write home about, but this was particularly shoddy. 

Fenrys led her inside, gesturing to each fixture in the common areas and trying to sell them for far more than their worth. It wasn’t the worst place Aelin had ever lived in her decade-long career in the military, but his jokes had her in stitches by the time he led her to her ‘bedroom.’

Really, it was more of an oversized closet with a cot, a chair for a nightstand, and a single light operated by a cord that dangled from the ceiling. Someone had put a small fan on top of the chair that she turned on to test the airflow. Beneath the cot was just enough space for her to slide her bags, and the door shut almost all the way. It refused to latch, but you win some and lose some. It wasn’t the worst and definitely beat sleeping outside or sharing a room with any of the boys. Aelin had spent enough time with military men to know they smelled horrible. 

Not that she smelled like jasmine at all hours of the day, but the women tended to try a little harder than the men did. It didn’t matter that she knew all of them personally. Maybe it was a little sexist, but she stood firm in the idea that women cared a little more about body odor than men.

After the grand tour was finished and she’d peeked into the guys' rooms, they walked back toward the kitchen. Aelin had arrived much later than planned, and Rowan was already preparing his MRE for dinner. The others quickly followed suit, and Fenrys knelt on the ground to dig through the box.

“Alright, we’ve got spaghetti with meat sauce, chili mac, a chicken stew, regular mac and cheese, and lemon pepper tuna.” 

“Chili mac,” she said, firm in her decision. It was one of the best ones, and with their supplies looking a little low, she didn’t know how it was even an option. 

Fenrys handed her the dinner, and she quickly removed all the contents. Along with the main entree, it held a few other snack items ranging from a beef jerky stick to a packet of Sour Patch Kids and a few things in between. She hummed contentedly at the fruit punch powder packet that she would most definitely add to her water. 

Aelin was forced to sidle up next to Rowan to fill her pouch with water to activate the one-time-use heater that came with the meals. He said nothing as their shoulders brushed until she was finished, folding her pouch over to avoid spillage. Aelin handed her food off to Fenrys while she relocated everything else to the small table that would barely hold them all. By the time she retrieved it and took her seat, Rowan was already in his chair. 

Because she simply couldn’t pass up on the opportunity, she sat next to him, not bothering to avoid their knees knocking or shoulders bumping as she settled. Again, he said nothing. Just stabbed at his own pouch of beef and barbecue and pretended she wasn’t there. 

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment?” Aelin nudged his elbow with hers, tilting her head to look at him. Rowan finally relented and gave her a sidelong glance. 

The others, including Lorcan, were claiming their seats. To their credit, it seemed that they were trying not to eavesdrop, but that was impossible in this house. Lorcan, however, looked ready to jump between them and dispel a fight that would leave two of his incredible assets licking their wounds.  

“I was thinking about it,” Rowan replied tersely, not looking up as he shoved a bite into his mouth. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the last few years?”

“Ah, so Connall was right then.” Bitter asshole to his very core, apparently. Fenrys snickered at her remark beside her while Rowan tensed. Aelin could have been sitting up against a concrete wall and wouldn’t have known the difference. 

“What are you missing most about civilian life?” Fen asked, likely an attempt to prevent a verbal sparring match. He popped a skittle into his mouth and settled back in his rickety chair.  

“I barely remember what it’s like at this point, to be honest.” It was the truth. Aelin had thrown herself so thoroughly into work that she was only home for a few days at a time. The longest she’d been home was for a month last summer. There were days when she didn’t know what to do with herself and days when her mattress felt too soft, or the food too indulgent. Aelin pondered, mouth twisting to the side. “Usually, I would say long, hot showers. But I don’t think I’ll be craving any sort of heat while we’re here. Probably my nightgowns. I can handle everything else, but sleeping in silk is wildly underrated.”

“Can you not share intimate details while we’re eating?” Rowan grumbled. Aelin whipped her head around to look at him, her brow furrowed.

“Intimate details, my ass. You’ve literally been inside me. I don’t think it gets more intimate than that.” Had she chosen nightgowns specifically to wiggle her way under Rowan’s skin? Maybe. But it didn’t make his reaction any less stupid. “How the hell is sleepwear an intimate detail?” 

Rowan opened his mouth to respond, but Lorcan beat him to the punch, looking for all the world like he should have told them to put Aelin in someone else’s company as he said, “On the topic of civilian life–”

 “Please tell me we’re leaving this godsforsaken place,” Fenrys cut in, eyes wide and pleading. 

 “I just flew halfway around the world, and we’re leaving?” Aelin felt as exasperated as she sounded. It was a long way to travel to just turn around and head right back. She wasn’t eager to be cooped back up on any sort of aircraft so soon. 

“In three days,” Lorcan confirmed, shifting in his seat to pull a roll of paper from his back pocket that he dropped into the middle of the table. Six pairs of eyes peered down, scanning the words even though it was upside down for Fenrys, Aelin, and Rowan. “I didn’t find out until this morning, or we would have waited for you to join us then.”

 “What’s going on?”

 “Since we’ve been monitoring the border here for months and nothing is happening, we’re more useful elsewhere. Another unit will be stationed here while we go to Rifthold.”

“What’s happening in Rifthold?” Rowan asked, leaning back in his chair. Aelin did the same while taking a swig of fruit punch, eyeing the unused drink packet from Rowan’s meal kit. It was grape, and she knew he wouldn’t drink it because it was too sweet. Maybe she could steal it when he wasn’t paying attention.

 “A threat on the Crown Prince of Adarlan’s  life.” Lorcan’s tone lacked inflection. He could have been talking about the weather.

“I’m all for preventing an assassination, but we’re the Terrasen military. Why are we getting sent in for this?” Vaughan had a point. A good one, too. Not that any of them were really complaining. Going back to civilization would be a damn vacation for them, the boys more than Aelin. She hadn’t been hiding in a shack in the desert for the last four months.

“Because all signs point to it happening at the summer ball, and our President, along with a dozen high-ranking officials from our government, will be in attendance. Preventing the Prince’s assassination will save their lives, too.” Everyone murmured their agreement. “We don’t know where it came from, though. Our source is unclear on that, which will be the trickier part. All signs point to it being an inside job right now because things have been intense between the king and his oldest son.”

 “Dorian has been speaking out against a lot of his father’s policies. The king can’t do damage control fast enough. It was all over the papers when I was in Orynth last month. As quickly as the king puts out one fire, Dorian starts another. ‘Inside sources,’” Aelin added air quotes with her fingers for emphasis, “Claim that the king is getting really fed up. It’s causing a lot of unrest and protests among the people. More of them seem to agree with the prince than the king. It would make sense for it to be his doing.” 

“That,” Fenrys drawled, holding one finger, “Is fucked up.”

“It is,” Aelin agreed. “But things have always appeared to be rocky between them.”

“We’ll be going undercover for a while. Adarlan’s government isn’t asking for assistance on the issue, probably because they’re starting it to begin with. But we aren’t willing to risk their version of ‘taking care of things.’ And if it comes down to it, President Galathynius–” Lorcan’s eyes shot to Aelin when mentioning her uncle, “–would rather save the prince’s life and risk tension with Adarlan over it.” 

“Considering the King of Adarlan is a sexist, racist piece of shit, I don’t blame him,” Connall mused, letting his hair out of the bun it had been in since Aelin arrived. She agreed with her uncle. Dorian did as much as he could as a prince, but as king… He would pave the way to a better world. 

“Do we have covers yet?” Rowan leaned forward, reaching for the stack of papers Lorcan had presented to them. As he sifted through them, Aelin noticed the commander’s face getting tighter with every page Rowan skimmed. Her brow furrowed as she looked over her ex-boyfriend’s broad shoulder. 

“You two…” Lorcan hesitated. Almost like he was dreading the news he was about to bestow upon them. “The four of us will be blending in with the commoners. Our base will be a large manor set far enough out that nobody will notice we all congregate together.”

Beside her, Rowan went utterly rigid. If she thought he was tense before, it was nothing compared to now. The tendons in his neck were ready to snap. She swore she could see his pulse pounding in his neck as a vein protruded in the center of his forehead. 

“No,” Rowan said, shaking his head and throwing the papers on the table. Confused, Aelin snatched them up to read them herself. Fenrys leaned in to read along with her, one of his fingers tracing down the edge of the page.

“It wasn’t my call,” Lorcan said defensively, right as her eyes landed on the incriminating words that had Rowan’s body taut as a bowstring.

“This better be a fucking joke,” she spat, pushing out of her chair and rising to her feet. It had to be a joke, a prank, a hazing for joining their stupid little boyband. The harsh lines on her commander’s face said it was anything but. “Married? Out of all five of you to make me pretend to be married to, it’s Rowan that gets picked?”

“We don’t know how dangerous of a situation we’re walking into.” Lorcan tried to sound calm, but his eyes darted between the former couple like they might burn down the world out of spite. Aelin was considering it. “Rowan is the best of us at hand-to-hand combat should you ever need the defense–”

“I can fight for myself. I can protect myself. Fenrys could protect me just as well as Rowan if that were truly a concern.” It was risky to shout at her commander so much, especially on her first day, but Aelin was just past the point of caring. Every fuck she might be able to give was caught in a tornado of sand, plowing through the desert in the complete opposite direction.

“You know better than anyone that Rowan has skill sets that would work well while masquerading as a Duke, just like you do for being a Duchess. Fenrys is too loud-mouthed, and the other two lack the general composure to pretend to be royal. Rowan always has the quiet, dignified mask in his back pocket. He can talk his way out of–”

 “I don’t care,” she hissed, taking several steps from the table.

 “Ace…” Fenrys said quietly, leaning back in his chair to grab her hand. “Lorcan has a point.”

 “I know he does.” Aelin’s voice was muffled while she rubbed at her face. Nobody objected or disagreed with Lorcan’s mild insults because it was the truth. Sometimes, Fen didn’t know when to shut up, and while Vaughan and Connall could easily look the part, they were missing something that Rowan just had naturally. 

 When he walked into a room, he carried himself like he was important. Unlike typical royals, it wasn’t because he was looking down his nose at anyone but because he almost commanded respect from everyone. Rowan, as a royal, wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Aelin knew that. She just wished she had more of a heads-up before getting thrown into something that hit a little too close to home where their former relationship was concerned.

 “I’m sorry for yelling.” Her eyes met Lorcan’s, and he shrugged. Now was not the time for him to assume she couldn’t do her job because she was an emotional woman. It was sexist bullshit, to begin with, but her time in the military told her it’s what they all thought of the women. No matter how hard they trained or how many times they proved themselves, women were silly, emotional creatures that couldn’t handle anything.

“I expected it. I know it won’t be easy for either of you.” Aelin couldn’t hide the surprise on her face. Not the raised brows or the way her mouth parted at his words. Maybe she undersold him. Just a little. “Rowan?”

 “Yeah.” The word was flat. Seeing his face wasn’t necessary to know his eyes were probably as vacant as he sounded.

 “Can you handle it?”

 “Don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

No, they didn’t have a choice, but if it would save multiple lives, they would manage. Their tumultuous past would stay where it belonged when they were in public and doing their jobs. Maybe they would even find a way to be civil by the end of it. There was also the possibility of everything going up in flames, one violent explosion at a time until everything was burned and nobody was marked safe from the fallout.

Aelin really wasn’t sure which one it would be.

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Pretty Please - King Valkyrie x F!OC

warnings: after math of Love and Thunder, king x assistant, soft!dom King Valkyrie, FxF smut, 18+

word count: 10.7k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1326038960-pretty-please-myra

Masterlist

Myra stood outside the tall blue building and sucked in a deep breath. It was one of the few places left unscathed after that night the shadows came and took the children. After patching up the hole in the wooden roof, it was used to create a safe shelter for the city while they continued to rebuild. It was good to see their citizens working together this way, helping each other and building up not just the physical city but their bond as a community. It made her heart warm just thinking about it. 

The moment however was fleeting and replaced with utter chaos as she stepped through the white wooden double doors and into the town hall. Plastic chairs stood in lines of 6 across the hardwood floor and lined three of the four walls, each one filled by a citizen just waiting for a moment to speak with their King.

Smoothing out her dark grey pencil skirt, and fixing the straps of her teal-blue flowy tank top, Myra made her way through the crowd, her black heels clicking on the floor as she squeezed around everyone. She hugged a stack of files close to her chest and balanced a mug of hot coffee in her other hand, reaching for the brass door handle and entering the King’s office. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, your majesty, but -” her words were cut short by a smirk and a tilt of her King's head. 

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Valkyrie swiped her tongue across her bottom lip as she shooed out the government official that sat in front of her. 

“How many times, Myra?” she questioned, leaning forward on her desk and clasping her hands together as her dark eyes stayed fixed on her assistant. 

Setting down the coffee and her files, a blush crept up her cheeks with a soft smile appearing on her lips. Myra cleared her throat and stepped back away from the desk, clasping her hands in front of her, “at least once more, your majesty, as always” she quipped. 

“We’ll see,” Valkyrie hummed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“There’s the marketing shoot at Infinity Conez and then you have a meeting with the players about their new production. You have some time scheduled with the construction company about the rebuild and then I’ve scheduled you some time for lunch.”

“Are you taking lunch with me?” Val asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Well someone has to make sure you eat properly, my King,” Myra smiled. 

Myra's eyes followed her as she pushed herself up and walked around the desk in her direction. A tender close-lipped smile on her soft full lips as she took a seat on the desk, just a few inches of distance between the two. 

"What on Asgard would I do without you, Myra?" 

She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks, and she must have had the start of a telltale pinkish hue on her cheeks from the slight twitch upward of Val's lips. 

"I'm sure you would fare quite well, my King." 

Val tsked, "I doubt that. There's nobody that can compare to you, darling," she affirmed, eyes locked on Myra's, their characteristic twinkle there once more. She clapped her hands in front of her, "Well then, shall we send the first citizen in?"

Myra tried the best she could to hide her attraction, the infatuation she'd been harboring for quite a while. It was getting harder to do so every single second she was close to Valkyrie.

Bowing her head to her King was the only excuse to hide the emotions surely making themselves known on her face from the perceptive gaze of her majesty.

"Yes, your majesty," Myra replied softly, backing toward the door.

"Myra..." Valkyrie warned, cocking her eyebrow at her assistant. 

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to stop a smile, Myra's gaze stayed on the floor and she cleared her throat, "Yes... Valkyrie" she stuttered out. 

The soft chuckle of the King behind her was like music to her ears as she spun slowly and opened the office door, calling in the first person who was waiting. Most people that were coming in these days just wanted to know what the plan was if something were to come for their city again, and it was always the same answer; everyone is safe and protected here. The buildings could always be fixed, but it was the community that Valkyrie cared about the most, and it was one of the things Myra admired about their King.

Val didn’t return to her desk, instead guiding her guest to a pair of easy chairs off to one side of the office. Myra couldn’t help but admire the easy grace with which she moved around the room. There was no denying the King’s true heritage, even if she were hiding underneath a dark, plaid suit.

Handing Valkyrie the papers she needed for her meeting, Myra barely held in the small gasp at the electric tingle that danced up her arm as their fingers brushed. Ducking her head a little, she turned away, hiding her blush under the guise of making some coffee for the King’s guest.

She quietly confirmed with the citizen if they wanted milk in their coffee as she poured Val's favorite in her mug, black coffee with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Myra grabbed both cups, handing one to their guest with a polite nod as they spoke to their King and turned quickly to hand Valkyrie hers. She smiled as Valkyrie quickly turned her attention to her and mouthed a thank you with a wink.

Myra smiled politely in front of their guest, trying to ignore the little flip of her heart. She should be used to the subtle flirtation from Valkyrie — it was just how they were, after all — but the lingering looks and soft smiles today felt different, intentional. But then Myra wouldn’t be surprised if the other woman knew exactly the effect she had on her. 

She shook her head subtly and moved to her small workstation to take notes on the meeting. It was going to be a busy day, with no room for ridiculous thoughts of her King.

Keeping her head down, Myra scribbled in her notebook, keeping track of how many times each citizen tried to argue with Valkyrie. It was concerned arguing as if they didn't believe her that the town was safe, and after everything Asgard had been through, she didn't really blame them for being skeptical. It was written on their King's face every time she spoke to the people that even she had trouble believing it sometimes, but she always kept that brave face on for them. 

Myra chewed on the inside of her cheek, and her dark eyes flitted away from the paper and up to the King where she expected to see her listening intently to the citizen talk, but instead, she caught her gaze as Valkyrie smiled softly over to her assistant. 

It felt as though butterflies had swarmed her insides as she returned the smile quickly and looked back down to keep writing. 

A throat clear caught her attention, and she pushed her shoulders back to regain some of her posture as she moved from her desk. 

"Please see Richard out, and send in the next person," 

"Yes, your majesty" Myra bowed her head and moved to the door, pulling it open for the fisherman.

A sigh sounded from Valkyrie that held a hint of frustration and Myra immediately felt a flush of regret.  She didn’t mean to use her title, it just slipped out, and she hated the thought that she’d disappointed her King.  Carrying out her usual routine of offering the fisherman a drink, Myra was interrupted by the chime of an email.  She read it, and then, as she leaned over to refresh the King’s coffee Myra spoke softly near her ear.

“Excuse me my Ki…Valkyrie?  The stables have just messaged.  Aragorn is almost out of food.”

“Your Valkyrie hmm?”  Val replied with a hushed tease.  “Email Banner and ask him to send over some more of the formula he devised.  And tell him to deliver it himself, he’s way overdue for a visit.”

Myra nodded and rose, heading back to her workstation to carry out her orders.

She sat down and silently cursed at herself while she typed out the email to Banner. Not only has she used Valkyrie's title multiple times in what little time has gone by of the morning, against her wishes, but now she embarrassed herself by fumbling her words and failing miserably to fix them. Intensely focused on the screen as her fingers danced along her keyboard Myra failed to notice Val walking up and standing next to her until a hand hovered hesitantly over hers and finally rested above them. 

Myra sucked in a breath and stopped typing, looking up to her left and finding her King smiling down at her, "What did that keyboard ever do to you, Myra?" she laughed.

“I— uh. Sorry, y-Valkyrie. Just, everything feels a little— you know what, don’t worry about it. Apologies if I was typing too loudly.” 

Valkyrie snorted out a laugh at that and Myra glanced up at her, confused. 

“That wasn’t the problem,” Valkyrie said softly, “I just noticed you seemed a little in your head, and with the keyboard smashing… look when we’re done here, let’s walk to my next appointment. I want to feel the sun on my face and I can’t help but wonder what this pretty shirt of yours looks like in the light. That colour looks good on you, by the way.” 

Myra blinked, eyes drawn to the small pout on Valkyrie’s lips as she very obviously eyed the floaty tank top. Pale blue and not unlike the shade Myra saw her King admiring so often.

"I hope you don't mind," she stared up at Val through her lashes, "stealing the official color of the King and all."

Val's hand cupped her chin, delicately, in a way that felt natural to them but made the skin beneath her touch warm. "It looks better on you," she repeated herself with a deeper tone. "Finish up, I'll be waiting for you."

Myra nearly fell out of her chair as Valkyrie's hand ghosted her skin, fingers tickling her jaw as she pulled away from her. She turned back to the computer to hide the obvious blush on her face and worked as fast as she could to finish the email.  Her heart was beating a million miles an hour, her mind wandering to Val's lips and then shamelessly to how they might feel against her neck and thighs. She bit her tongue, snapping herself from her daydream and swallowed the sticky feeling of want before sending the email off.

Taking a moment, Myra let her eyes flit back over to Val, who waited by the window. Her normally serious features were lit up by the golden light of morning and Myra felt a flutter deep in her chest. Everything about her exuded power, but there was also a softness there that was reserved only for the most important. Lately, Myra had been on the receiving end of more careful touches and gentle looks, which only fueled the fire deep within. 

"Some people might say it's rude to stare."

Her King's voice snapped Myra out of another daydream and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. 

"Sorry," Myra laughed bashfully, standing up from her desk as Val approached. "I'm in my own head this morning, I guess." 

"Never apologize to me, darling," the King of New Asgard drawled, a soft smile on her face. "Besides, I have daydreams of my own from time to time. I won't rob you of yours. Now let's enjoy the day together. " 

With a tilt of her head, Val gestured to the door and Myra's heels clicked along with the hammering of her heart as she followed her outside.

The cool, sea breeze hit her face and calmed the flush beneath her skin as she sucked in a deep breath and scanned her eyes over their town. There was still wooden scaffolding standing against a few buildings and there were people walking all about, carrying supplies and helping each other. It was a nice sight to see, and what made it better was the soft smile that appeared on Valkyrie's lips as she watched the same site. 

Myra took a deep breath of the fresh air, and gestured down the street, "we have the marketing shoot at Infinity Conez first, your majesty" 

"Myra," a deep chuckle left Valkyrie's chest as she placed her hand lightly on Myra's bicep, "you act like I've kept you locked up inside all day" she quipped, her thumb grazing gingerly across the skin of her arm, "besides Infinity Conez can wait for me, we are supposed to be enjoying the day"

“Come on, let’s just walk along the harbour wall a little, see if the dolphins are out,” Val continued, guiding Myra along with a gentle hand on the small of her back.

They turned and headed out along the walkway nodding and smiling at the variety of people they passed. It wasn’t lost on Myra how Valkyrie moved to walk on the side where the water was, keeping her safe close to the wall. They were halfway along when Myra realized that her King’s hand was still a warm and tantalizing presence against her spine.

A shiver ran up her spine at the realization and she felt Valkyrie's hand skate up and down her back softly before she retrieved it. She watched her remove her blazer, her heart hammering against her ribcage as her King placed it across her shoulders with a smile. 

"Oh, your majesty, I'm no-" as she protested, Valkyrie raised a hand and lightly shook her head.

"I insist, Myra. Air's a bit nippy today, wouldn't want you getting sick."

She reached out to pull the coat around her tighter, her hand brushing lightly against Val's, a wave of electricity shot through her nerves and suddenly she felt blessed by the thunder god himself. Her schoolgirl crush validated by an invisible strike of lightning across her chest.  

"Thank you, Valkyrie." 

"See, my darling Myra. It's not that hard. I love how you say it." Val said as reached over to smooth the shoulder over Myra’s, the soft fabric smelled compelling and just as she imagined Val to smell like, like in her countless daydreams about this woman.

“We really shouldn't dally," She deflected, sinking back into her work obligations to avoid the hot blooming in her chest from Valkyrie's eyes on her. "The crew is waiting at Infinity Conez, these marketing shoots are important for the tourism..." 

"Myra?" Her voice was so soft, tangled with the lapping of the waves, the chirping birds and the laughing children playing along the coast. "There are more important things in my life than bringing more tourists to the island."

"Your majesty-" She started. 

"I have everything I need, right here," her typically hardened expression softened as she said it.

"You're right," Myra breathed out, the tension pulling her closer to the woman next to her without a thought. "New Asgard is pretty perfect." 

Val chuckled and shook her head, looking out towards the steely ocean that stretched endlessly ahead before turning to Myra. A gentle hand brushed a stray curl from her cheek, buttery soft skin in stark contrast to the calloused hands of the warrior king. 

"You know that's not what I mean, Myra," Val murmured and it sent a shiver down Myra's spine. 

Her nerves were completely wound up, a single touch sending her into a spiral. All she wanted to do was lean in and take what she wanted, to feel Val's lips on her own in front of the entire village and the gods above and below them. 

"Should I elaborate further?" Val continued, raising an eyebrow as she smirked playfully. Her finger travelled down the slope of Myra's cheek to her throat, running along her pulse. 

"I-I really think we need to go to the next meeting," Myra stammered out and Val's hand dropped instantly as she took a step back. It pained Myra to see the briefest flash of disappointment in her King's eyes before she masked it with a smile.

"If that's what you really want, then lead the way."

Myra swallowed the lump in her throat and sucked in a sharp breath as they started walking again. What was she thinking? Valkyrie was the King of Asgard and she was her assistant. That was it. Her mind was misfiring and interpreting signals that she only thought were real. There was no way the King would be into a commoner like her. 

The two walked in silence to the ice cream shop, their fingers brushing lightly together every once in a while as they walked. It took everything in her not to link her pinky with Val's, but those feelings got pushed aside as soon as they walked into the shoot. It was teaming with people who swooped in and stole Valkyrie from her side. 

Myra felt her chest squeeze as she watched her King look back at her over her shoulder just briefly before turning her attention to the hair and makeup team. 

"You're late," the photographer snapped at Myra.

“And you should watch your tone,” the King snapped from the other side of the store, her voice clipped and almost frightening.

Valkyrie stalked back across the room and stared silently at the photographer, her eyes blazing with cool fire.  The moment dragged on, each second making the photographer squirm more and more.  Myra watched the scene unfold and her heart began to beat harder in her chest.   She reached blindly behind her for a bottle of water from the refreshments table, gripping it tightly in her hand as if it would ground her.

“Don’t ever speak to my…Myra like that again,” Val gritted.

The photographer let out an audible gulp and scurried away whilst a grinning Val turned to Myra.

“Y-your Myra?” Myra squeaked, handing the water bottle to her King.

“Did you doubt it?” Valkyrie smirked as she cracked the seal on the bottle and drained half the contents in one swig.

"I- I'm not sure what to say. But-" she stuttered out, her brain still processing what had just transpired. 

Her King's eyes softened as she closed the distance between them, hand reaching up to cup her cheek, swiping her thumb tenderly along her cheekbone. She watched Valkyrie's mesmerizing brown eyes flit from her own to her lips and back. 

"Well, now you know not to doubt it again," she whispered, her warm breath fanning across her lips.

The thought of being Val's Myra was daunting. Myra watched as she commanded the attention of everyone around her. Moving across the set like she was walking on water, her long dark hair blowing around in the light breeze and showing off the gentle curve of her neck. Myra's tongue darted over her lip before she shook herself from the trance and tugged her phone out in a desperate attempt to refocus herself. 

The shoot went quickly after the outburst, the photographer moving like a chicken without his head just trying not to piss off the new King even more than she already was. Val kept her eyes on Myra the entire time, the sun beating down on her face as she cracked fake smile after fake smile. Myra knew the look while stepping up to the plate without hesitation. 

"That's enough," she chirped, her voice barely loud enough to travel over the crowd of faces that had formed around the shoot. "The King has places to be, did you get what you needed?" 

Before the photographer even had time to answer, Valkyrie pushed past him, "I'm sure he did." She gave him another polite smile before leading Myra from the crowd and down the street back to the office. The two of them walked in an easy silence, their hands periodically brushing together as they walked. Val opened the door to city hall for her, letting her in first. 

"I'll call you when it's time to go to your dinner with Korg," she nodded politely just trying to put some space between them. Everything had gotten so hot so fast and even the cool ocean breeze wasn't enough to quell the heat that licked at her neck and chest. 

"Myra," Val called as they separated, "thank you..." Val stepped forward and for a moment she thought she might kiss her, the way her eyes flickered to and from her lips without a care of being caught.

Just as she was about to reply to her King, wanting to tell her that she was only doing her job and nothing more to try and quell the tension between them because she wouldn't know how to start dealing with confessing her affection, Ida, the bubbly blonde resident lawyer of New Asgard came waltzing in heading straight in Myra and Val's direction.

"Your majesty," she offered a small curtsey to the King, "may I borrow Myra for a few moments if you no longer need her assistance?" 

Her bright blue eyes flitted to Myra nervously with a pink hue on her cheeks. 

Myra looked to her King for permission to leave her side only to catch a fleeting frown, her King’s eyes surveying every subtle movement between the two.

“It will only take a moment,” Ida offered, adding a slight bow, “your Majesty.”

The confusion Myra felt must have been plain on her face.  Ida had never requested her presence in such a way before, never asking her to leave her King’s side like this.

King Valkyrie assessed the lawyer with a veil of indifference.  “Very well, but bring her back to me before lunch.” 

A flirtatious smirk crossed the lawyer's lips as she linked her arm with Myra's and trailed her fingertips against her skin, "Oh we won't be that long, I just need her to look over something for me," the blonde winked. 

Valkyrie's lips pursed and Myra watched as her dark eyes narrowed, flicking from Myra's gaze to the blonde's fingers lightly brushing her skin. The King's shoulder's visibly tightened and she gave a sharp nod before Myra was dragged away by Ida to the back of the room. 

"This color looks beautiful on you by the way," Ida commented loudly, into the echo of town hall, reaching her free hand over to touch the thin fabric. 

Myra pressed her lips into a thin line and cleared her throat, "Thank you, uh what - what did you need me to look over?"

“Oh, I have some legal meetings that I need you to incorporate into the royal schedule,” Ida said glibly, waving her hand in the air.

“Couldn’t that have been a raven-mail?” Myra asked with a frustrated sigh. “The King and I…”

“Oh hush, I’m sure Val won’t mind you leaving her side for a few moments. It’s not like you don’t spend every other second with her.”

Myra fixed a glare on the lawyer.

“You’ll address the King by her title,” she snapped.

"Excuse me," she scoffed, "Everybody addresses her as Val, Myra don't be silly" 

She huffed out a breath composing herself, "Well you may not, you will address her accordingly." 

Ida rolled her eyes in annoyance, unlinking their arms and turning to her with a scowl, "Who do you think you're speaking to?" her voice bouncing off the walls as her tone raised, "I will address her however I so please, I will not have someone like you telling me how to speak." 

A dagger flew across the room, whipping the air in the small space between the two before reaching the wall beside them. Ida gasped and both their heads snapped to it's place of origin. Myra's face flushed as soon as she was met with their King, her King, stood still on the other side of the room. Brows furrowed as her lips twitched in anger, her other dagger readied in hand. 

"I will not have you speaking to Myra like that, EVER. Is that clear? You show her the respect she deserves. Now I believe your time is up, or shall you have me throw this one as well?" she snarled, eyes fixed on Ida's face as she twisted the dagger in her hand.

Ida's form trembled, fear rolling off of it in palpable waves as the King slowly approached them while Myra's belly filled with butterflies and heat spread across her body at the sight. The mere thought of her King defending her enough to send her head spinning and for flames to lick her skin.

"Yo- your maj- majesty I only—" 

"Get. Out. Now." 

Val interrupted the stammering woman, eyes blazing in anger as she stood tall, the ghost of a smirk barely there on her face as the blonde immediately shut her mouth and started backing out.

Myra stood still, breathing slightly laboured as Valkyrie's eyes followed Ida to the door before finally settling back on her face when it slammed shut, on which she hoped the flush wasn’t evident.

Val’s eyes roved over Myra’s face, taking in her state of distress.  Adrenaline flooded Myra’s system, the blade had been close, very close, and the shock of its violent whump into the wood of the wall beside her still lingered in her nerves.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Val stepped into her space, raising a hand to tilt her chin up, “I would never harm you.”

“I know,” Myra mumbled, caught in the heat of Val’s gaze.  The words Your Majesty died on her tongue, thought and felt at her very core, wrapped up in all the emotions she felt, all the moments they shared.

“And besides,” her King added with a devilish smirk, “I don’t miss.”

Val leaned in close, and Myra’s breath caught as their cheeks came dangerously close to touching. 

“Let me just…” Myra held still as Val whispered in her ear, shivers racing down her spine as she reached up, and yanked her dagger out of the wall. Myra exhaled slowly as her King backed up, hearing her inhale as she did. 

“Ready for lunch my darling?” Val asked, a soft smile on her face as Myra tried to reorient herself, attempting to regain her professionalism.

Myra could hear her heart beating in her ears as her eyes flickered around her King's features. Her citrus-vanilla scent floated through her senses and made her head feel dizzy. The two had been in close proximity before but today was different. The purposeful touches and tension between them obvious to almost everyone. But still, Myra felt the need to push away the intoxicating feeling Valkyrie was giving her today and act like her professional self. As she did every day. 

She nodded softly and turned away from Valkyrie, letting out a sharp sigh as they went out on another excursion. Out into the town where they were just The King and her shy, little assistant. The way it should stay. The way it had to stay. 

"Myra," Val's voice floated through the air and brought Myra back to the present. 

She hadn't realized that she had been walking a full step behind Valkyrie, with her head down, looking at the pavement. "Sorry, your majesty," she answered quietly, stepping up beside her, "so you're having lunch with the head of tourism and discussing the expansion of the boat ride and the possibility of a roller-"

"Nope, I'm having lunch with you and we're getting burgers," Valkyrie decreed, a grin growing on her lips as she looked over at her assistant, "If you want, that is"

“But what about the head of t…” Myra began but was halted by gentle yet strong fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“I don’t give a shit about the head of tourism, the chief of rollercoasters, or even those fucking goats.  I want to have burgers for lunch and I want to have them with you.” 

Valkyrie’s eyes burned into hers and Myra felt herself crumbling beneath the intensity of her King’s gaze.

“O-Ok then,” Myra whispered, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. “Burgers it is.  Let me just message…”

“Fuck ‘em,” Val growled, although she smiled.  “You’re more important than any of them.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she laughed shyly, looking away from her gaze, feeling her face flush red yet again.

Myra missed the feel of Valkyrie’s fingers wrapped around her wrist as they moved and hovered over her open palm. She looked down to their almost interlaced hands and was quickly brought back to meet her King’s gaze by a firm grasp of her chin. 

“Now, what did I tell you about doubting, my beautiful Myra?” she purred, a sweet smile gracing her lips.

"I'll make a note of it in my calendar, no doubting," she teased, letting Val pull her closer. She fought to control the urge to tense up, so many people roamed the streets of New Asgard, eyes always on the King. 

"That's my girl," she said, pulling Myra's hand to her lips last second and pressing a lingering kiss to the top. "Now enough work talk, let me take care of you. Hamburgers and..." Val's bright eyes scanned the horizon over Myra's line of sight, "ice cream."

Myra followed King Valkyrie in a daze.  The warmth of that lingering kiss tingled upon her knuckles, effervescent and light, but the weight of what it meant made her heart thump uncontrollably.

Inside Bor-gers & Friez – New Asgard’s best and most loved burger joint – King Valkyrie led the way to a private booth, sitting opposite Myra, their feet meeting under the table.  The place had been split to accommodate Infinity Conez, ice cream fit for the gods, and was the perfect pairing of foods.

Myra buried her face in the menu.  The intensity with which her King watched her every move set her cheeks aflame and her nerves jangling.  She wanted nothing more than to be just what her King seemed to want and need, but for propriety’s sake…

King Valkyrie’s fingers drew the menu down until Myra’s eyes flicked up to meet hers.  “I don’t know why you’re looking,” Val mocked affectionately, “You always order the same thing.”

“Perhaps I want something different this time,”  Myra answered without thinking.  Her state of distraction drew a wry smile from her King.

“Is that so?”  Val smirked with satisfaction, sitting back to wait for this new revelation.

Myra hesitated, actually pausing to think this time before saying, “You never know when the right moment will come for change.” 

Val’s smirk slowly switched into a contemplative smile, eyes narrowing at Myra. 

“You’re right…Change often comes when we least expect it, maybe it’s nearly time for something to give?” Val questioned and Myra glanced away and back. 

“And so it is. Bacon burger deluxe with fries instead of my usual single,” Myra stated determinedly, watching her King start to laugh delightedly.

“What’s so funny?!” She added, a little disgruntled.

“Absolutely nothing Darling,” Val reassured, still chuckling.  “You enjoy your bacon deluxe.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Myra asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Oh no, I could never make fun of you.  You’re far too beautiful for that.”  Val paused and captured her gaze.  The intensity of her stare sent shivers running down Myra’s spine.

“Besides,” Val continued, “you’re in charge of my day.  If I made fun of you then you could schedule back-to-back meetings with that damn theatre company!”

Myra broke into laughter at her King's feigned worry. Though she knew all jokes aside, she'd actually have a conniption if Myra ever did that to her. 

"Oh no, that's far too dramatic over you making a little fun of me," she started her eyes flitting to Valkyrie's lips, luscious and plump curled into a genuine smile at hearing her laugh, "And, I could probably think of a few other things to pencil in that would make up for it, my King"

"Little mouse are you flirting with the lion?" Valkyrie looked at her with pride. 

"You started it-" Myra went to defend herself but a soft chuckle left Val's lips and the sound was enough to make her toes curl. "on second thought I think your Thursday, seven am slots just opened up. I'm sure they'll jump at the chance to fill it." 

"You wouldn't dare," Val narrowed her eyes playfully. 

"Who is the mouse and who is the lion?" Myra asked.

"Touché," she leaned back against the booth, her hand finding one of the knives to spin around on the table. "I would like to see that list..." she said and Myra's brows kissed in confusion, "the list of all the things that would make up for it. I should start working my way down it." Val's eyes trailed over her, drinking in everything she could with a lustful stare as she flicked the knife between her fingers.

Myra took a shaky breath, her legs crossing and uncrossing under the table as she tried to quell the throbbing that suddenly appeared there. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable, darling?" Val said with a smirk, laying the silverware back on the table as Myra's cheeks flared up. 

"No," she murmured, looking up through her lashes. "You could never do that, my King." 

"Good," Val said as she leaned forward, touching Myra's hand where it laid flat on the table. She started to trace circles on her palm and Myra almost let out a whimper. "Because I only aim to make you feel pleasure in my presence."

“I-“ Myra squeaked out a sound before the sound of footsteps broke through the daze surrounding her. Val took her hand back and Myra mourned the loss as she made a fist, hand still tingling from the contact. 

They gave their orders to the server who left immediately to put them in, leaving Myra staring at the table as her King stared at her.

Thoughts of Val danced around Myra's head to a melody of her laughter and calming voice that just seemed to surround her every time she opened her mouth. She could feel the King's dark eyes on her and everything in her was screaming at her to look up to take this chance, but she pulled herself back once more. This was a professional lunch and the mindless flirting was not going to get them anywhere. 

The two fell into idle chit chat as they sat and ate their burgers. Myra didn't want to admit out loud that while the bacon burger was good, she did actually miss her usual. 

She filled the King in on the current town gossip and their laughter filled the restaurant as Myra did everything she could to keep the conversation going appropriately. Which was more difficult as she thought with Valkyrie's foot lightly nudging her leg under the table, a fire igniting deep in her belly as her thoughts tried to shift. 

"Anyway, I know you don't want work talk, but you uh, you do have a few meetings this afternoon, and then Thor wanted to meet you for drinks this evening," Myra fidgeted nervously, her gaze landing on the King's lips as her tongue swiped across them.

“I do, that’s true,” the King mused, pinching her bottom lip between her thumb and first finger.  “I guess that means you get an early dart, right?”

“Well. I don’t…I mean…I have a lot of work to…”

“I’m not listening.” Val hummed, pretending to stuff her fingers in her ears.  “You’re gonna go home and have an early night.  You deserve it Myra.  And besides…”. Valkyrie laid her chin in her palm, her elbow resting on the table, “you don’t want to disappoint me, do you, Myra?”

“N-no,” Myra stammered, feeling a flash of heat rip through her, right to her core.

"Good," Myra's breath hitched as she watched Val bring her bottom lip between her teeth and smile, just stopping herself from finishing her thought, "good." She breathed. 

"Well then, my dear Myra, shall we walk back now? Allow me to bask a little more in your presence before you head home?" she asked as she stood and extended her hand to her for Myra to hold as she stood from her seat.

Myra looked up at her employer, the reason for many declined dates and late night dreams that had her tossing and turning in her sleep. It was just her hand, nothing more, but Myra knew that if she took it, then the door was open to a mountain of possibilities between them. There was a tingling under her skin as she raised her hand, almost too eager to feel the grip of the warrior before her. Before Myra’s skin could meet Val’s however, the doors to the small restaurant burst open and in ran one of the villagers who worked down by the ferry. 

“Ex-excuse me, Your Majesty,” the resident, a young man named Ivar, panted as he skidded to a stop before Val and Myra’s table. 

Val fixed him with a cool stare, raising one eyebrow in a clear message that whatever he is interrupting her for better be important. Ivar looked from Val to her assistant, still flushed and sitting in the booth. 

“Um, one of the goats, has…gotten away,” he stammered. “Toothgnasher, well he gnashed right through his chains.” 

With a heavy sigh, Valkyrie’s eyes rolled back and fluttered closed. Myra had to bite back a laugh at the sheer ridiculous nature of the events. 

“And where is he now?” she asked, exasperated. 

“He is currently plowing through the daycare’s garden. Already took out the playground.” 

“Which part?” 

“The entire playground, Your Majesty.” 

Val groaned before turning back to Myra, taking her hand once more. 

“Go home, Myra. I’ll come see you once this is handled and we can finish our…discussion.” 

With a gentle smile that quickly turned stoic as she turned back to Ivar, Val hurried out of the restaurant with the villager in tow. Myra couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that filled her while walking back to her apartment, only a block over from the main offices of her King. It was a choice between going home and letting her mind wander, or keeping both her brain and her hands too busy to fantasize about what never could be. She chose the latter, despite Val’s implicit instructions. 

Day turned to night as Myra sat in front of her computer, barely noticing the lack of light as she typed away at emails, memos, and messages from Thor from whatever part of the galaxy he found himself in at that moment. There was a fair bit of teasing, the god of thunder being well aware of the crush Myra harbored for their mutual friend. Her fingers flew over the keys quickly, the clacking masking the heavy thud of the office door as it was closed by someone cloaked in darkness.

Myra sat silent, listening to the discontent sighs of the interloper as they rifled through King Valkyrie’s desk drawers.  The more they searched the greater their frustration grew until, with a forceful kick of the desk, they thumped down in the King’s chair.

She smiled, seeking the form of the person through the shadows, knowing with all certainty that this person was not a thief or a spy.

“Looking for this?”  Myra asked, holding up a rustic ceramic bottle stoppered with a gnarled cork peppered with red wax fragments; one of the last bottles of Asgardian mead that had been salvaged from the Ragnarok.  She had hidden the bottle after her King had spiked her own coffee at a town committee and banished the entire roster on account of them being boring.

King Valkyrie stood with no small amount of swagger and moved into the light cast by Myra’s computer, clearly a little worse for wear.  “Good girl.”  She accepted the proffered bottle with a sour pout and took a swig.

The praise sent goosebumps coursing down Myra’s spine, over the skin of her arms and left a warmth in her belly that she wished she could push aside, but she couldn’t.  She had been fighting these feelings so hard and denying herself for so long, that it had become almost automatic.

“Troublesome night?”

“When are the goats not troublesome, I swear I keep telling the smiths to strengthen their holdings but-” Valkyrie frowned,  “I thought I told you to go home.”

“You tell me many things,” Myra smiled coyly, “I don’t always listen. Your Majesty.”

Valkyrie looked at her, head tilting to the side. “Well, since you’re here, shall we continue our discussion?” Her free hand lifted, taking Myra’s and raising between them. Myra swallowed, looking into her King’s dark eyes, illuminated by the computer. Valkyrie grinned, lids lowering but gaze remaining fixed on her as she bent. 

“Pretty please?” she asked, quietly, her lips brushing Myra’s knuckles, a whimper slipping out of her throat.

Myra swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the crashing of her heart against her chest, her eyes remaining locked with her King’s. This couldn't be happening. It was the mead that was all. There was no way. 

"Your majesty, I - I don't know if that's a good idea, I can tell you've had a lot of mead and we can - just talk tomorrow," her words were cut short as Valkyrie pulled on her hand gently, getting Myra to stand. 

Valkyrie's hand let go of Myra's and found a home on her waist as she slowly guided her backwards and pressed her back against the wall, "you know as well as I that the mead makes no difference," she slid the bottle onto the desk beside them before bringing her hand up to brush a dark curl off Myra's forehead, "do I have to spell it out for you, Myra?" 

Shaking her head slowly, she allowed her hand to come up and land gently on the King's shoulder, "No I just -" she whispered, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to think of the right words, "you're the King, and I'm just - "

"The most incredible woman I have ever met," Valkyrie whispered back, "if you want me to back off, just say the word..." she leaned forward and nudged the tips of their noses together. 

"Please don't..." her fingers curled into the collar of Valkyrie's shirt, actually scared that she'd cake away and they'd lose this moment forever. If there was any time to take a leap of faith, it was now. In the back of her mind, hung that black cloud of doubt but as she stood there caged between the stone wall and her King, Myra realized there was no place she'd rather be. 

Taking in a sharp breath, Myra tentatively leaned in and brushed her lips gently across Vals, pulling a chuckle from deep within her chest. 

"You can do better than that..." The king mumbled against her lips.

Myra’s eyes fluttered shut as she felt a hand slide up her throat and cup the back of her neck, fingers twining between the strands of her hair. It pulled her closer, keeping her pressed against Val’s mouth and she let out a whine that she hoped didn’t sound as desperate as she felt,

Tilting her head slightly, Myra felt the gentle brush of a tongue against her lips and she parted them, almost combusting at the welcome invasion.

A whimper left her lips as Val's hands seemed to disappear but quickly found purchase against her thighs.

Her fingers dug into her skin just below her skirt, "Can I?" Val whispered against her mouth and all Myra could do was nod. Without hesitation, Valkyrie pushed the hem of Myra's tight skirt higher, just enough to wrap her hands around the back and grip her thighs, lifting her against Val's thighs with barely a squeal from her kiss-swollen lips. She wrapped her arm around Myra's waist, using the wall for support as she peppered her throat. "Remember if this gets to be too much," she said breathlessly. 

"The word, the word...I know," Myra silenced her with another hungry kiss.

On the one hand, she wanted to savour the feeling of having the subject of her affection pressed up against her, devouring her in a passionate kiss while holding her body in her own, strong but still incredibly delicate hands.

On the other, she wanted more. It felt as if Myra was already drunk off their kiss as her lips tangled with her King's. Silently pleading and begging for more of the heat that's simmering between them to simply consume her and take over her entire being. 

She let out a small whine when Val's lips parted from her own only to slide down her throat, soft and slick with saliva and mead as they glided over her pulse point causing Myra to hold back a moan as she leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closing at the sensations the king was stirring in her body.

"Don't hold back, darling," Val murmured against her neck, her hands pushing further up Myra's skirt until she found the seamless panties underneath. "I've waited a long time to hear all the noises you can make." 

Val gripped the supple skin of Myra's ass, enough that she was sure purple marks would bloom the following day. She pressed Myra's quivering body further into the wall before lifting her up with a firm grasp on her back and thighs, taking Myra's breath away.

"What are you doing?" Myra panted against her King's parted lips, who carried her further into the office. Val smiled in response just as the hard oak of the royal desk pressed firmly into Myra's back. 

"We never got to have dessert," Val nearly growled, a hint of honey dripping from her voice. "And I am fucking starving." 

Val nipped the skin of Myra’s neck with her teeth, drawing a symphony of sounds that the meek assistant wouldn’t dream of making.  Gasps, moans, and sighs punctuated each nip and the soothing kisses that followed.  Myra clung to her King as a survivor of a shipwreck would cling to its flotsam, and Myra knew she was just as wet.

Grinning against the heated skin of Myra’s neck, Valkyrie moved carefully to stand between Myra’s legs and charted a course to her bounty.  Wet, mead-tainted lips trailed along inner elbows and wrists, beneath lifted blouses – King’s colours or not – Val looked like she wanted to map every inch of skin she could. 

Myra gasped and instinctively fisted her hand in Val’s long braids when the King’s teeth tormented the delicate skin of her cleavage, her nipples hardening under Val’s expert touch.  But the King didn’t stop there.  She kissed her way down Myra’s stomach, lowering herself to her knees before her subject.

Val paused, and Myra panicked, maybe this wasn’t what she wanted after all but she was met with her King looking up at the dishevelled state of her beautiful aid, the ravenous look in her eyes unmistakable. 

“You know, it should be you kneeling before me,” Val smirked, “I am the King of New Asgard, after all.”

“But you hate all of the formalities and titles.”  Myra panted, licking her lips nervously as Val looked up at her from between her thighs.

“True,” Val pursed her lips mischievously, “but you don’t.”

Myra nodded quickly, giggling slightly hysterically as she watched her King slide her hands up her legs from her knees to the insides of her thighs, spreading her open as heat passed through their skin. Valkyrie’s hands inched under Myra’s skirt, and just as they brushed the edges of her wet panties, just covering her folds, Myra shouted out, “Goats!”

The King blinked and stopped moving. “Goats?”

“It’s all I could think of?” Myra groaned as Valkyrie sat back on her heels, her hands falling away from Myra’s legs. 

Valkyrie examined Myra’s trembling form for a moment before smiling softly. “I think you need to cool off a bit”

Standing herself up, Valkyrie took Myra's hand in hers and pressed soft kisses up her skin to her neck, across her jaw and finally attached their lips once more, "Stay" she whispered, giving another quick kiss before sauntering through her office to the corner behind Myra's desk. 

Her head was spinning as she watched the king about her office, but the heat in her body calmed and craved Valkyrie's presence once more. Despite how fast this night was going and the lack of actual conversation they'd had about it, Myra knew this was what she wanted. The King was what she wanted. Always. 

Val reappeared with two plastic spoons and a tub of Myra's favorite ice cream from Infinity Conez, Mind Stone Mango. A soft smile appeared on the assistant's face as she tilted her head and watched Val. 

"Has that been here all day?" She questioned. 

Valkyrie cocked her eyebrow, and found a home back between Myra's legs, bringing the closeness back to them with a smirk, "is that really the question you want to ask right now?"

"I ask inappropriate questions when I'm nervous," Myra giggled as Val popped the lid on the ice cream and handed her a spoon. 

"Our standards of inappropriate are skewed," Val took a bit of ice cream, cleaning the spoon between her lips as Myra took her own trying not to clench her thighs together at the sight of Valkyrie devouring the dessert. 

Her heart skipped a beat as she watched Val sink again, pressing more ice cream into her mouth. She set the carton of ice cream next to Myra and dragged her cold fingers over her bare skin, sending shivers up her spine in shockwaves. She barely had time to collect her scattered thoughts as Val started to place slow, chilly kisses to her calf. Working her way up her hot skin, taking her time and driving Myra mad. 

"Val," she whimpered as her lips brushed against the hem of her hiked-up skirt. 

"Eat your ice cream, pretty girl," Val ghosted her tongue over her innermost thigh making Myra's toes curl in her shoes.

The icy temperature of Val's lips against her skin made Myra's hands tremble as she tried her hardest to bring the spoon to her mouth. When she felt teeth catch on the fabric of her underwear, right over where her clit lay throbbing beneath, she dropped a large dollop of sugary mango on her chest and yelped. Raising her head, Val locked eyes with the creamy splash on Myra's tawny skin and grinned darkly. 

"Messy little thing," Val chastised, clicking her teeth with an amused shake of her head. "Let me clean you up."

"Val," Myra whined again, wiggling her hips in protest before she was silenced by sticky fingers against her parted lips. 

"Shh," Val said. "I want to see how sweet it is before I get a real taste." 

Valkyrie moved her body up to hover over Myra and she felt the heat of Val's tongue immediately on her chest, biting and sucking at the melting dessert and the skin beneath. 

"And Myra," Val growled, licking her lips as she met the woman's heavy-lidded gaze. "In here, when I have you like this, I'm not Val. I am your King."

“Oh gods, yes your Majesty,” Myra moaned and Valkyrie surged upwards, taking her lower lip between her teeth, and pulling it into her mouth. Val sucked on it as her sticky hands roved under Myra’s bra, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples until she was whimpering, Valkyrie’s tongue pushing into her mouth and swallowing the sounds. 

“Tastes better on you,” Valkyrie whispered into the kiss before pulling back, kissing her way back down Myra’s body. 

Valkyrie raised Myra’s skirt further, reaching below and pulling her panties down until she could step out of them, kicking them aside. Val shouldered her way between Myra’s legs, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to her inner thighs, steadily getting closer to where she wanted it most.

"Your majesty... please" Myra rasped into a moan as Valkyrie peppered more kisses against her skin. 

Val's hand went up and pressed into Myra's chest firmly, pushing her to lay down onto the wooden oak desk, "shh, you're okay beautiful girl, I've got you," she smirked into her skin. 

An electric shock shot up her spine as the king finally pulled Myra's throbbing bud between her lips and sucked, before swirling her tongue around it in tight circles. A deep moan left her chest and her hand went flying up to land on a stack of official files that lay beside her head. 

"Oh my god, Va- my King," she breathed, arching her back into the desk. 

Valkyrie chuckled, sending vibrations of pleasure through Myra's body, "you taste just as sweet as I'd imagine"

Myra could barely form words, every tangled emotion dripping from her lips came out a guttural moan as Val nibbled gently at her clit as her hand raked over the flat of Myra's stomach. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her bra, tugging on it until Myra took the hint. She wiggled free of the straps exposing herself to her King, struggling to keep her hips on the table as Val curled a long, smooth finger into her folds. 

She could feel the smile on Valkyrie's lips as she teased her relentlessly until Myra was screaming her name. She removed her lips from her sensitive core, standing to hover over Myra. "You have to be quiet," she warned. 

"You have to be more naked," Myra took the chance of punishment as she pressed a heel into Valkyrie's shoulder, stopping her from moving any further. 

Her head tilted to the side, hair cascading down the sharp lapels of her suit and a sly smile pulled across her face. "Is that any way to speak to your King?" Val quipped. 

"My King is wearing far too much clothing," Myra raised an eyebrow.

With a smirk, the royal rose to her feet and shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. Myra licked her lips as Val pulled her belt from the loops, the clanking of the buckle loud against the hardwood floor. Left in only her white button down, Val stepped closer to Myra's heat and slowly unbuttoned the silky fabric, exposing toffee colored skin and strong lines of muscle. 

"Better now?" Val murmured, bringing a hand up to grip Myra's chin, kissing her gently and leaving her taste on her own tongue. 

"Much. Thank you, Your Majesty," Myra breathed with a soft giggle, moaning at the feeling of her lover's hands between her legs once again.

“Mm anything you need sweet girl, just ask,” Valkyrie whispered, sliding two fingers between Myra’s folds, capturing the gasp that left her lips in another deep kiss. Myra tore away, heaving for air as her King sucked bruises along her neck and collarbones, pushing her down against the desk until she was once again between her thighs. 

“Can you-“ Myra hesitated, flushing. 

“Remember sweet girl, just ask and it’s yours,” Valkyrie murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her knee. 

“Your daggers,” Myra blurted out. “Use them to cut my skirt.” She flushed but kept her eyes on her King’s, watching them get blacker. 

“As you wish, my darling,” Val grinned, reaching behind her and pulling out her daggers. She slid the flat of the blade up Myra’s thighs, moving slowly before making a sudden gesture and slicing through the material of her skirt.

Myra gasped, and let out a whine at the gesture, her dark eyes finding her King’s as the fabric fell off her hips, leaving her there completely naked in front of Valkyrie. It was a dream come true in her mind, the dizzy feeling returning as she craved the touch of her girl once more. 

Sitting up, Myra grasped the collar of Val's white shirt and attached their lips, swallowing a moan from the woman in front of her. Her hands travelled down her body, finding the opening of the white shirt that still hung from her body, tucking her fingers into it and pulling, sending clear plastic buttons flying through the office. 

She looked up to meet Val's gaze to find the king smirking down at her. 

"That's my girl," she whispered before pushing her back gently onto the desk once more and kissing her way back down Myra's body as the tips of her fingers dragged through her wet folds and pushed one inside of her.

"Saints," a string of swears fell from Myra's lips as Val's tongue flicked over her clit, her finger working at a languid pace from the inside. "More," she begged. 

Val practically growled against her, "I've imagined that sound in my dreams for months but it sounds so much better coming from your lips," she whispered, "ask nicely." 

"Please your Majesty, I need more." 

"So pretty when you're desperate,"  the words rolled off Valkyrie's tongue and seemingly tickled every nerve in Myra's body.

Her heels came down on Val's back and urged her on, while her hips began to mimic the same motion. For a moment, Myra worried that Val would stop her, but she only gripped her thighs tighter and lapped fast at her slick.

"Yes, don't stop, thank you, gods," Myra sobbed, nearing a breathless high while she fucked the face of her Majesty. She didn't know what she was thanking her for. Nonsense just flowed from her lips as the wave rose and rose, her body rigid against the wooden desk. 

Another finger joined the first inside Myra's cunt and Val curled them, finding perfectly the spot that Myra wanted most. She cried out, back bowing as she came hard and fast, slick dripping down onto the desk beneath them.

Myra breathed out, the sound turning into a squeak as her King kept going, fingers moving slower but deeper. 

“Come on pretty girl, give me another,” Valkyrie encouraged, murmuring against Myra’s lower lips, spit and slick keeping them sliding together. “Y’can d’it” she mumbled as she locked her lips around her hole and fingers, sucking hard. 

Myra screamed, orgasm hitting her like a punch to the gut, exploding out of her, zinging through her fingertips and toes.

The view of Valkyrie’s warm, slick tanned skin was even better from below. Her strong thighs demanded attention but Myra’s gaze couldn’t help but drink in the soft curves of her hips and the tight muscles of her stomach. She admired the round shape of her pert breasts and her mouth went dry thinking about wrapping her lips around her hardened nipples. 

“Do you like what you see?” Valkyrie rocked back onto the table, leaning against it and allowed Myra to hook her knee over her shoulder as she nodded quietly. “What do you want little mouse?” She whispered, raking her hands through her hair and tilting her chin up further. 

“To taste my King,” Myra’s kiss-swollen lips turned upwards as she nibbled the soft skin of Val’s inner thigh.

Valkyrie inhaled sharply as Myra bit down, soothing the mark with her tongue. She dropped to her elbows on the desk, head raised to watch Myra. 

“Go ahead,” Valkyrie murmured, lowly, spreading her legs another inch as Myra dove in.  She lapped at her King’s cunt, kissing her clit and worshipping her like she’d been longing to do. 

A hand in Myra’s hair forced her back, away from her prize and she whined, eyes desperately meeting Valkyrie’s. 

“Tell me, sweet girl, how does your King taste?” she nearly purred and Myra shivered, eyes fluttering. 

“So good, your Majesty,” she whimpered and Val’s eyes flashed as she strained to get back to her.

Every sound and praise that dripped from Valkyrie's mouth was like music to Myra's ears as she swirled her tongue around the swollen bud of nerves, and curled two fingers into Val's cunt. The way she tasted more sweet than Myra had ever imagined sent her brain into a frenzy. 

Reaching up, Myra found Valkyrie's hand and intertwined their fingers, allowing herself to smirk as she felt Val's grip tighten around her hand while her other flew up and wound itself into Myra's dark curls. 

"Right there, angel," Val moaned, throwing her head back to look at the ceiling, "just like that, fuck"

Myra kept her pace, wanting to pull every sound she could from Valkyrie's lips and memorize each movement that corresponded. That was her job, after all, keeping track of everything that made the King, happy.

Myra slid a third finger into Val, filling her just enough as her fingertips stroked her spot. 

“Oh, fuck!” Valkyrie cried as she came, one long, extended orgasm. Wave after wave rocked the king and Myra worked her through them all, pressing soft kisses to her clit and licking around her still gently thrusting fingers. 

When the King’s hips finally settled against the wet desk, Myra slowly slid her fingers free, pressing a gentle kiss to her cunt before pulling away. 

Myra sat back on her heels, Valkyrie lifting up on shaking elbows. “Come here, sweet girl,” she murmured, reaching down and grabbing Myra’s chin, leading her up between her legs until she was laying on top of her, cuddled on the desk. 

Myra’s head was pillowed on Valkyrie’s arm, her other arm around Myra’s waist, holding her close. They stayed quiet, trading soft kisses and lingering looks.

Drawing circles along Valkyrie's belly, Myra couldnt stop the soft smile that stayed plastered to her lips. She wasn't sure what all of this meant to the king and it would definitely be something they would need to talk about, but for now, she did her best to quiet those thoughts and focus Val's soft skin beneath her and the sound of her panting breaths. This night had been everything she wanted it to be and more, it wasn't something she was about to let her own brain ruin for her. 

Valkyrie's lips pressed a soft lingering kiss to the side of Myra's head, causing her to look up into the wet, dark eyes of her king. Her chest squeezed together as the worst thought exploded into her mind. Maybe it was just her that wanted this. Maybe this was the king about to tell her that it had all been a huge mistake. 

"You know," Val cleared her throat and sucked in a sharp breath, turning her eyes to the ceiling "when I lost my last love on the battlefield, I thought that was it. I never wanted to or tried to find someone to bring back into my life, and then," her gaze landed back on Myra, catching her eyes once more, "you waltzed into my office when we landed here and somehow knew me better than I knew myself" 

"Your majesty, I -" 

"In the years you've been my assistant, you have managed to slowly piece back together every piece of heart without even knowing it," Valkyrie whispered, her eyes tracing over each feature on Myra's face, "I couldn't do this without you... I couldn't do anything with you" 

Myra stretched up and captured Val's lips with hers as she reached up and wiped away the single tear that had escaped down the king's cheek. 

"You don't have to do anything without me, I'm not going anywhere," Myra reassured, letting her thumb linger against Val's cheek, softly sending the sadness away. 

Valkyrie smiled, and nudged their noses together, pulling Myra as close as possible to her body, "You know, every good King has an even better Queen..." she teased, locking their gaze with one another, "And you, my beautiful, charismatic, surprisingly funny, and so smart girl, have the makings of a powerful Queen, so be mine…" 

"Oh I don't - " Myra started, her bottom lip finding a home between her teeth. 

"Pretty please..." Valkyrie whispered once more as she pressed her lips softly to Myra's. 

Nodding slowly, Myra pulled back with a sweet smile, and cupped Val's cheek once more, "Anything for you my king, always" 

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, September 11th, 2024.

Which fictional character can you not stand? There aren't any that I can't stand. I can't even think of a character that just really annoys me. I mean, some can be annoying (or snooty, manipulative, backstabbing, or whatever), but in the context of the story, it's fine.

What was the one subject in school that frustrated you because you just couldn’t process it? Math. I was okay at Algebra and Geometry, but once I reached Algebra II/Trig, my understanding of core concepts wasn't strong enough to carry me any further.

What’s the weirdest compliment you’ve ever gotten? I don't think I've ever received an especially weird compliment.

What is an occupation that you would like to do just for one day if you had the chance? I wouldn't want to actually do the job, but I think it would be interesting to shadow someone in nursing. I've just heard so many horror stories that it's become like a morbid fascination.

What do you think people have an unnecessary stick up their ass about? Anything and everything. Pretty much whatever subject you look into, there will be someone there with a stick up their ass about something.

What common advice do you think never works? Idk but lately I've felt stuck between "just ignore it" and "speak up." Neither option has produced satisfactory results so far, so maybe it's time to break out of the binary and try something completely chaotic and unexpected. ;D

What’s the best movie without a happy ending? I'm not sure.

What is something you think is actually better about today’s generation? This obviously isn't true everywhere, but overall living conditions, medical and technological advancements, transportation, access to information and communication, etc. Some of those things can be a double-edged sword or have certain pitfalls, but you know. Probably better than being a peasant in the Dark Ages. But if we're talking about people specifically, then…hmm. People are people wherever you go.

What movie has a worse love story than Twilight? I'm not much of a movie watcher, but I'm sure there are far worse love stories than Twilight.

What seems obvious to you that doesn’t seem to be for other people? That "the government" isn't hiding any aliens.

If your partner in the zombie apocalypse was the main character of the last movie you watched, would you survive? The last movie I watched was Inside Out 2, so unless the little emotion avatars in that teen girl's head can pull some seriously lucky levers, we're fvcked.

What’s the worst episode of your favorite TV show? I don't have a favorite TV show.

You can pick two artists to do a song together, dead or alive, but they have to be from different genres. Who do you pick and why? I can't think of any particular artists, but as far as genres go, maybe some heavenly and numinous choir music merged with some dark and gritty rap/hip-hop. It has potential okay!!!

What is something you would never buy again, even if you were rich? A house (or cabin or apartment or whatever) with carpet. If I could live somewhere with exclusively wood or tiled flooring, I would be so happy. Carpets are just gross.

What do you do regularly despite it being considered very unhealthy or unsafe? Smoke cigarettes.

What is something that most people find attractive in a person that you find unattractive? I can't think of anything that I find unattractive, but there are common beauty standards that are just like…eh. They don't do it for me.

Do you ever use facial masks or scrubs? I've used facial masks a few times. I don't think I've ever used a scrub, though.

What do you think of the recent trend of adult coloring books? I don't have an opinion regarding the trend as a whole. They're nice as a concept and I do own a couple of them, but I just don't have the patience.

Which fictional character do you think you’d be great friends with? I have no idea.

What would you do if you found out your toys came to life similar to Toy Story? Probably go through something like the 5 Stages of Grief, but with way more emotions. Fear, horror, sadness, guilt, embarrassment, confusion…

Do you own any cook books? We have quite a few. But do I ever use them? No.

Is there anything that you’d like to eat right now? I'm not all that hungry, but cashew chicken, fried rice, and cream cheese wontons sounds good.

What book are you currently reading? A Short History Of The World by H. G. Wells.

What is something that you believe in, but aren’t very outspoken about? I'm not very outspoken about any of my beliefs. I'm just not an openly opinionated person. I like to feel people out before getting into any kind of discussion because I'm not someone who enjoys confrontation or debate.

do you think weird it’s for someone to have never tried soda? I guess it would depend on where they lived. If they were in the US, then I would think it was…if not weird, then highly uncommon.

is there any foreign film you recommend? Naw.

do you have the same religious beliefs as your parents? There are definitely some overlaps. My dad is Jewish and my mom is what I would call casually spiritual. If you made a Venn Diagram of their truest beliefs, then I would probably fall somewhere in the middle. Then there are my own interpretations and understandings which expand into territory beyond either one of them. Overall, though, I think I have more in common with my dad because he's a deep diver within his own religion, and religion and spirituality are topics that interest me. We can have some really great discussions on the matter.

which floor of your house/building are you on now? I'm on the second floor.

are there any maps hanging in your room? No.

are you often a third wheel? or is someone a third wheel to you? I felt like that for the longest time at the animal shelter. I knew people generally liked and appreciated me, but I wasn't really fitting in. However, I don't feel that way as much now, not with the new batch of workers back in cattery. I'm still kind of third-wheely (because I'm shy/socially awkward and also a good deal older than they are), but not to the same drastic extent. I feel much more included, relevant, and free to be my silly and sarcastic self. I had it in my head that the problem might be me (and admittedly, some of it probably was and I do still have some work to do), but now it's like…oh. I was likeable the whole time?!?!

what’s the last dvd you bought? I'm not sure.

tell me about your favorite pair of jeans. I don't have a favorite pair of jeans. I basically don't even wear them anymore.

would you ride a motorcycle if given the chance? (or have you?) I've been on the back of one a few times, but I don't think I would like to ride one myself. Driving a car is enough responsibility for me.

is your hair healthy? Ehhh.

if a hotel offered free breakfast in bed, what would you order? I'd go all out. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits, maybe some fruit, coffee…

how often do you take a train? Aside from the kiddie train at the city park, I don't think I've ever been on a train. I might have gone on the one at the Royal Gorge, but I can't be certain that's a real memory and not some false recollection I settled on after the fact.

what’s your favorite led zeppelin song? Kashmir.

does your home have a balcony/deck/porch? We have a back deck and a front porch.

what does your closet/wardrobe say about you? That I spend a lot of time at an animal shelter. Probably half of my shit is animal shelter shit.

do you enjoy theatre? I don't not enjoy it. It's just not really my thing. I wouldn't want to be in a play, but I would probably go see one with someone if they wanted me to.

how would you feel about traveling abroad alone? Scared, unprepared, inexperienced, lonely, bored…like I had so much to share and no one to share it with. I'd much rather travel with someone.

who would you call a lyrical genius? Idk.

how do you treat yourself? It's time to make dinner, so I'm going to pause this here (9.10.24) and resume it sometime tomorrow… Okay. I just arrived home from a trip to the Mountain Park - which is one of the ways I plan on treating myself this autumn. I feel like I've spread myself too thin with volunteering, so I'm going to take a step back, take an extra day off here and there, and spend more time in the mountains with my dad. Other ways I treat myself include eating fun/favorite foods (so excited for holiday treats!), making time for art, and curling up in bed with my kitties and some YouTube.

do you have an interesting passport? I don't have a passport.

are you going to pursue a career according to what you enjoy? Yeah.

what’s your favorite frozen treat? Ice cream. You know what else I've been enjoying lately? Otter Pops. They're not typically something I would think to eat, but they're great for hot afternoons at the shelter when I need a quick chill out/sugar rush combo.

who supports you financially? Social security and my dad. We share our incomes.

if you wanted to go to the movie cinema, how would you get there? I would drive (or be driven).

how many pillows are on your bed? Two regular pillows, three body pillows, and two decorative pillows.

would you pay more for organic food? I might if I preferred the taste of a certain brand, but otherwise it's not something I pay much attention to.

do you prefer being awake after everyone goes to bed or before they get up? I don't really have a preference.

do you know much about feng shui? (do you use it?) I know very little, and no, I don't use it.

how would you make friends in a quiet class? Make meaningful eye contact? Lmao heck if I know. I'm quiet myself, so if other people are quiet, then it's just gonna be quiet.

are you generally a quick learner? Yeah.

what’s your favorite spot to read? At my computer desk.

did you know that buddha is not considered a god to buddhists? I was aware of that.

do you save tickets from movies, etc.? Not really.

without looking him up, who was jim morrison? The vocalist for The Doors.

when’s the last time your bedroom was painted/wallpapered? Gosh, idk. As far as painting goes, that would have been years and years ago. It wasn't even finished. As for the wallpaper, that was put up before we moved in.

teach me something in another language. Naw.

what type of music do you like and why? I've developed a fondness for classical over the past couple of years.

if you randomly want to eat something in the house, do you eat it or wait? It depends on what it is, what I've already eaten, how close it is to meal/snack time, etc.

who knows the most about you (besides yourself)? My dad.

do you have a nervous habit? (e.g. biting nails, tapping feet, smoking) Picking at my nails.

how’s your favorite pro sports team doing lately? I don't follow any sports teams.

would you be/are you a good role model to a younger sibling? No.

[ghostenluvs]

bits of personality details that might not make it into the episodes:

[most of these are from a headcannon generator I thought was accurate but some of them are my own]

Spencer

has fallen asleep at their desk while working in the middle of the night.

spence is aromantic.

spence's least favourite subject in school was Gym.

spence has punched a hole in their wall.

spence would wear Hello Kitty socks.

spence would listen to 80s music.

spence shops exclusively at thrift stores.

spence sleeps in until noon.

spence cringes at their middle school yearbook photos.

spence has one, very simple word that they cannot figure out how to pronounce. Its envy. He says it like en vai

spence does not know what sleep is.

spence is a theatre kid.

Is terrified of being a bad person and tries to overcompensate for it by doing lots of favours for people, if he’s helping he’s doing good right?

Desperate for meaningful connection.

Tabitha

Doll phobia

tabby is great with kids.

If the source media was a musical, tabby would be the one character that asks why everyone is singing.

tabby can play the piano.

tabby hates being alone.

tabby steals other people's clothes.

tabby would wear Hello Kitty socks.

tabby is not good with social cues.

tabby has a pet lizard.

tabby can beat you up and will. [if you hurt her pals]

tabby is asexual.

tabby is a dog person.

Awful liar.

extrovert.

Dexter

dex is constantly singing for no reason.

dex does intricate and expensive cosplays.

dex is smart but also very stupid.

dex had an emo phase.

dex tackles and wrestles people to show affection.

dex will go feral. Watch out. [eric better count his nonconcussed days]

dex is not allowed to drink energy drinks.

dex has a mary sue oc.

dex will remind others in the midst of chaos how good they're being.

Dex is eager to learn new types of math

dex tells dad jokes.

dex forgets to eat sometimes.

If dex likes someone, they will give them a pretty rock.

dex likes to sing at 4 in the morning. Their neighbors hate them.

dex knocks people over by hugging them.

Loves this one specific niche comic book series but cannot let people know he reads books.

Religious trauma.

Has a job and makes it his whole identity unless you drag him out of that mindset by the collar.

Juno

Can't sit still in a chair

Juno believes in ghosts and insists on trying to summon one at every sleepover.

Juno desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one.

Juno cannot drive. [horses are afraid of them]

Pet hamster named azalea

Hates messes, cleans and tidies and erin condrens everything compulsively [their scanners get confused if it’s too cluttered and they hate not seeing things right.]

Sings like daft punk. Loves karaoke.

Will stare directly at your face to scan your facial expression, can’t read tones of voice well.

Knows flower language.

Loves prime numbers.

Scared of animals  because they don’t have data on their body language.

Double jointed everywhere.

Thinks of themself as sort of a living shield whenever their friends are in danger, they can be repaired. [this is a bad thing that will cause them harm].

Photographic memory.

Can’t eat, but loves pasta as a concept.

Laura

Smart but very stupid

Afraid of doctors

Has a nightlight

Cats

is very willing to eat inedible things.

Loves useless trinkets from friends.

Loves their friends deeply.

Can do a handstand 

Chessmaster extraordinair

AUTISM. NOT EVEN A SMALL AMOUNT. IT IS IMPERATIVE PEOPLE KNOW SHES ATISTIC. Theyre all autistic bc im autistic but i mean she’s extra autistic. Its important to her character.

Yk those gomez and morticia duos? Shes in one.

Will beat the crap out of you if you hurt her friends.

Loathes the government

Could very well have become batman if her tragic event had happened just a few years earlier.

Cass

Great artist

Board games

Lollipop theft when five, still guilty

Forgets to eat sometimes

Cries to disney movie stories

Terrified of rabbits

Hates winter.

Will sometimes go out while its raining and lay down in the grass and stare at the sky until it stops.

Impeccable immune system.

Puts flowers in her afro when she goes out to gather them.

Makes really good tea. [recipe from her grandma]

Absolutely terrified to hurt anyone or anything by accident bc her powers scared her as a kid. She will throw 24 bandaids and a whole cabinet of tylenol at you if she even bumps into you [hyperbole, but she really hates hurting things]

Type of person who would raise baby squirrels

Loves hot cocoa.

Zeph

Incredible spice tolerance

Fear of heights

Ur mom jokes.

Sleepwalked as a kid

Sings while magicing

Pet squirrel names charles.

If someone they knew commited a crime, zeph would cover for them.

zeph chews their nails when nervous.

Disaster bisexual.

canNOT have hair touching his neck he’ll scream.

always has a knife on them.

Invents energy drinks.

no respect for rich people. not even one molecule of respect.

sass for days.

would teach you how to cheese games at an arcade

full of energy, but not often loud.

[oswaldsleftbicep]

headcanos for the college life of the boys, pls?😭 (+ what their major would be)

college life

,,,,,anon are you in my head?? i shit you not, this exact scenario has been sitting in my notes app for like a month jskdfnkjs that being said, this will all be based off my own experiences with american universities

i'm actually looking to go back to college! i reapplied for my university, and also applied to another just in case, but i'm anxious to get back to it

lots of changes have been happening lately.

genre: other, crack if you squint

cw: language, no beta we die like men

Lucia

❧ most definitely majors in business or communications, but minors in political science (polisci)

❧ he joined a frat as a first year, got a little freaked out over the hazing part but was in too deep to back out, so he stuck it out

❧ idk how frats work, but he ended up becoming a big to a few freshies in his later years :,)

❧ does debate club/moot court as an extracurricular and comes up with the most bullshit arguments that,, surprisingly make sense

❧ since he has the means and the will, he goes to grad school for his masters degree but goes for something more to do with law or criminal justice, having been inspired by moot court

❧ however, he doesn't go for a phd and doesn't go to law school or anything, settling for a job in local government

Levy

❧ starts out as a regular history major, but by his second year he changes it to specifically military history, with a minor in medieval and early modern studies (mems)

❧ spends most of his time in the history building or at the campus library, where he has a part time job, but he also made it a point to join the university's polo team. anytime he's stress out about something, he'll go and care for the horses

❧ makes regular appointments with his advisor, but they became so frequent that the two of them end up getting coffee once a month and to catch up

❧ most definitely is on the dean's list and graduates with high honors

❧ starts being a ta in the second semester of his third year, and does it every semester following. he's the sort of ta that you either find annoying and insufferable, or you have a massive crush on

❧ goes on to get his masters and phd in military history, concentrating in some probably really obscure period of time

Mefy

❧ kinda a mix between his brothers, he's a polisci and mems double major; he couldn't pick which he liked more so he double majored instead of making one a minor

❧ out of curiosity, he went to go see the theater department's production of the iliad and was enamored at the idea of putting on shows of ancient stories and plays, so he took it on as an extracurricular

❧ he tries to keep his newfound hobby a secret from his brothers, but they eventually find out and come to every one of his shows :,)

❧ he does well in class and participates enough so that the profs all know him by name and are fond of him, but mefy secretly hates most of them, save for his war history prof and the theater director

❧ carried on to grad school, focusing on the politics of war in early and medieval times, but doesn't pursue more than a masters

Oswald

❧ started out as a geography and environmental science (ges) major, but unintentionally selected the bachelor of science path instead of the bachelor of arts path

❧ cue his horror when he sees that he has to take not just bio, but math up to calculus and physics

❧ he tries to push through, he really does, and he comes to enjoy a good chunk of his sciencey classes,,, but eventually it was too much, and he brought it up to his advisor, who suggested to switch to a ba, and poor mans was like "a what??"

❧ but he's doing much better now as a ba, and discovered a new passion for environmental justice!!

❧ got a job working with the campus maintenance crew and helps take care of the landscaping; he also joins the environmental club which helps keep the campus clean and safe, and they also get to work in the compost gardens!

❧ he unfortunately wasn't able to consider grad school due to funding, but with the help of his advisor, he was able to get a certificate and an internship in agriculture!

Kaim

❧ ok it's so hard to imagine this man in college,, he just seems so old to me lol

❧ but we can all agree he most definitely attended an ivy league school, majoring in music and joining the campus orchestra

❧ he also found interest in the culinary program and got a little job with the campus event catering staff to help prepare the food and serve guests at fancy events, and he stuck with it for so long that he became part of their management!

❧ his experience with that job lead him to discover that his university offers a hospitality studies program, and he got his certificate in that

❧ he was also absolutely an ra and enforced his rules so much that he had to be moved to a majority upperclassmen hall because all the freshies loathed him and kept asking admin to change dorm halls lol

❧ got really good grades and made the deans list, and actually got scholarship money to go to grad school, but he just simply didn't want to and was content with his bachelors degree

Mikael

❧ he majored in astronomy, with a minor in linguistics and ancient studies. he originally planned to major in astrophysics, but upon realizing just how much math would be involved, he was repulsed and settled for astronomy

❧ it's not that he can't do math, he very much knows how to and he's incredibly intelligent, he simply just doesn't want to do it lol

❧ he's sort of an enigma on campus, he's got this otherworldly air about him, like he's not from this time; whether that means he's a visitor from the past or future is up to interpretation, but it intimidates the hell out of everyone else that he's mostly left alone

❧ he attends all of the ancient studies and mems events, and he's also in the astronomy club; in fact, he's one of the only members of his club to attend every single meeting without fail, no matter how late in the night it is

❧ attends grad school and gets his masters in ancient linguistics, and later focuses on how ancient civilizations interpreted astronomy and how it affected their culture, which earns him his phd

❧ rubs his phd in lucia's face at any chance he gets, practically forces the man to call him dr. mikael

Ricardo

❧ tried his hardest to pick the easiest major, but none of the classes were interesting to him and his advisor all but begged this man to pick something he's actually interested in; so now he's a war history major lol

❧ he also joins a frat, influenced by media's portrayal of them and assuming that he's gonna party every night and get loads of bodies; however, he doesn't realize that he actually needs to keep a certain gpa to stay in the frat, and that he has rules he needs to follow, so he almost gets kicked out several times

❧ he shapes up pretty well by his second year, which is also when he looks into volunteering with campus police and eventually gets a part time job with them

❧ he does manage to graduate on time, and is more than content with just his bachelors; he told his advisor he'd rather shove a gun up his ass than go to grad school

❧ his advisor, along with all of his profs hated him, and are so happy to see him gone

Noel

❧ surprisingly, he majors in biology and is on the premed track for pharmaceuticals; he has an interest in the medical field, but doesn't want to be a doctor or nurse, so he figured working in a pharmacy or even making medicine would be the way to go

❧ also surprisingly, he's like really good at the more difficult subjects, like organic chemistry. he's flying through the work during discussions, to which his partners are all like "???? teach us???"

❧ unfortunately, he is not a good teacher. he knows the content, he really does, but he cannot for the life of him understand how he got there. "you just,,, do it? like write it all down, and convert it and you're done" i've never taken orgo

❧ it got to a point where the prof was convinced he was cheating, but when they tested him, he was even able to mental math that shit and he was left alone lol

❧ stumbled in on the cosmetology students working on their hair dressing, and was like "can i do that?", scaring the hell out of everyone when did he get here?? but they took him in and he helps them study and practice

❧ other than that, he spends his spare time hanging out in the wellness center or outdoor zen gardens, and he also joined the environmental club to help upkeep the gardens makes sure to hand the smelliest piles of compost to oswald

Lucas

❧ double majors in art history and literature, so he spends a lot of time in the humanities and fine arts buildings

❧ at least five people in all of his classes have a massive crush on him; he's just so pretty and smart and he reads??? awooga!! but most of those crushes dissipate once they try and have a conversation with him, they just can't follow along with his train of thought

❧ speaking of which, his profs either love him or hate him. he'll come up with the most bizarre and elaborate interpretations of texts and art and still somehow have solid reasons to back it up. anytime they have socratic style discussions in class, no one can follow up or argue when he speaks because,,, what the hell did he even just say?

❧ but every now and then, he'll break through to them all and say something that, one, makes sense and, two, is so though provoking and interesting that it leads into an hour long discussion and research party

❧ decided to be an ra in his second year, but ultimately stepped down by the end of that year due to stress. now it's like he did a full 180, breaking every rule he ever enforced, especially the curfew one. it's so common to spot him walking around campus at ungodly hours of the night that he's essentially become a sort of cryptid

❧ he uses his free time volunteering in community service and activism. anytime there's a protest on campus that supports a good cause, he's there the entire time. he'll also help organize events like that, passing around and posting flyers across campus

Kurt

❧ majors in zoology with a minor in environmental studies

❧ i keep picturing my physical geography prof who was so into birds, like a stupid amount, i think the two would get along well

❧ he starts a club that focuses on caring for campus wildlife and making a safe environment for them, be it picking up litter or putting up bird feeders

❧ he runs the campus shoot-your-shot page, and is surprisingly good and matching up submissions and helping people find their person

[dumpster-of-the-lost-souls]

More winx stuff!

I have been up all night last night with zero sleep and nearly fell asleep in math class earlier so apologies if this is not coherent in the slightest.

Again token shoutouts to @emsartwork @drops-of-moonlights @dragonflyxparodies for being the people that got me thinking about winx again. go look at their works!

I am dead serious about this, if I'm too annoying or you want me to stop pinging you just tell me to shut up.

This post is mostly about Diaspro

From her perspective she assumed Bloom was a witch and a gold digger assuming that she had spelled/charmed/hexed Sky into loving her. Sky didnt really do anything to support or refute those ideas. With the pitchman episode ending up making her double down on her bitterness and assumptions, since the pixies told her to focus on her kingdom and with the way that Eraklyeon is structured being a monarchy that is implied to be patriarchal and how Diaspro has been groomed to be Sky's fiancee, diasporas only real way she knows of that point of protecting and governing her kingdom is through marriage it makes sense in a roundabout way why she teamed up with Valtor.

Her plot was based on the assumption of Sky still being spelled/hexed and Diaspro was hoping to have Valtor's mark destabilize the hex while being destabilized by said hex enough that she could break both hexes without fairy dust which back fired on her and got her exiled.

Diaspro drifts through the Magix dimension for a while before the constant news articles about Bloom and the Winx gets to her so she decides to go to earth for some peace and quiet. She ends up on the east coast and is homeless for a while since she doesn't have an id and isn't able to purchase/rent a house or apartment. but she does have the ability to conjure gems to pawn off for money which allows her to pay for things in cash, this is what allows her to get her hands on a Van which she lives out of.

She travels around the west coast and the US for a while before making her way to Gardenia after doing some soul searching and introspection. She talks with Bloom's earth family and gets what they know from Bloom's perspective which makes her have some more introspection. At this point earth is aware of Magic and the Magix dimension allowing Diaspro to get an ID/passport/visa and she takes a job at the Love and Pet shop.

I'm probably going to talk more about this later but my brain is not cooperating with me right now.

[starlingsrps]

dorothea "dorey" mason, twenty five, code-breaker // au: at the end of the world

dorey is not nearly as much of a stick in the mud as she might appear but she does have resting bitchface and a very serious job so sometimes. but there is a war on.

dorey is a dorothea and she was raised comfortably middle class in clapham by people who were on the fringes of bohemia but went straight after having their first child, jessamine. bloomsbury turned into clapham, writing jobs turned into teaching and keeping house and as the children kept coming, the names became less bohemian. jessamine (34) was followed by caspian (33), then dorothea and then finally, exhausted, jane (23).

dorey is very glad she's not jessa or cas. dorey is enough.

dorey came along once her father had become principal of a boy's school in clapham and the only remnants of their bohemian past were a certain liberality in the education of their children and encouraging them to do whatever made them happy. jessa was and is a talented artist, cas breeds horses in ireland, jane is studying to become a doctor, and dorey does math for both fun and a living.

she was always the studious one in her family and if her parents stopped being able to make heads or tails of her math homework before she hit puberty, they were still supportive. she won a scholarship to newnham college at cambridge and holds a double first in mathematics (but no degree because fun fact cambridge didn't give those to women until 1948. no she's not holding a grudge!).

by the time she finished, the war had started and as absolutely no war jobs held much appeal to her (weak ankles, too many years in a library), she was recruited to the government code and cypher school and eventually moving to bletchley park. there were a few frustrating weeks where she was primarily doing clerical work before being assigned to hut six as a codebreaker on army and air force engima deciphering.

(and if i have to dip any deeper, i am above both my pay grade and intelligence level)

dorey is very good at her work and take a lot of pride in it. she's always enjoyed puzzles and there's nothing like the rush of breaking a code. she's been called to the war office a few times and while she knows she's not going to get any kind of major recognition for her work, the pride is what keeps her working.

make no mistake, that does not mean she's accepted it. like the denial of a full degree, the lack of recognition chafes at her. as a result, she sometimes take herself too seriously. she presents herself well, never a hair out of place and always keeps her composure. it takes a lot to ruffle her. she's determined and stubborn and does not do a task unless she can do it with her full attention.

despite all of this, she is tender deep down. she's very close to her family and stays with jessa when she's in london (clapham's too far from the war office). she keeps a steady correspondence with cas in ireland and jane in america and while she worries that she's doomed to be the maiden aunt, she knows that they'll always love her. she can be sweet and thoughtful when she isn't in her head but until the war is over: she's got work to do and that comes first always.

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

It All Comes Back to Haunt You (Part 3)

@glitchysquidd

(I am sorry, but the next chapter of Into the Breach will come next I swear… This will highlight some obvious plot-holes, include more characters, and other things… Aight let’s make shit hit the fucking fan.)

It was the first shift for her since Tim and Samantha hired her on. Rebecca was too worried to focus on work right now. Henry and Micheal had been…too okay…with the concept of her father being here. They were quiet. They were planning something, but what? Obviously the fire thing never happened, because she pointed out other innocent people were probably going to be in the building, but what else could they be thinking—

“Hey, kid, can I talk to you for a sec?”

The employee she had become fast friends with snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Sure, uh…” The teen mumbled, “Where’s Dave?”

“Uh. Fucking around somewhere, I dunno.”

“Okay…? W-what do you want to tal—“

“So… You are Rebecca Afton, right?”

She was taken aback by the question, but nodded slowly. It was a bad idea to trust this person with such information, but after keeping quiet for so long, Rebecca’s need for connection outweighed her sense of self preservation by a hair.

“I was up last night thinking, reviewing the true crime podcast… It just doesn’t line up.” Her coworker paused, “Not that I think you’re lying or anything since you look just like the kid they showed but…”

“Y-Yes…?” She was becoming more fearful with every second of silence.

“Your dad tried to kill you in like…1986… It’s 2023…” They stopped for a moment to double check their head math, “Forget calculating your actual age. You should be way older. How the hell do you look so…so…young?”

That was a very fair question, and she was honestly surprised how long it took even her father to do the fucking math here. He clearly knew what year it was, yet he didn’t comment on her supernaturally youthful appearance at all. Rebecca figured it wasn’t a detail he was analyzing right now. She realized she could only shrug in response to the inquiry…

“Yeah, I…I have no idea why I seem to be aging so…slowly…” The young looking woman admitted, “I was hoping to ask Charlie, but it is taking me a while to fix—“

“Who?”

“Oh, uh… Charlotte. She’s Henry Emily’s daughter… like the ring leader of the ghosts.” Rebecca said this far too casually, mixing flavoring into her water, “Yeah, she’s chill… Just—understandably protective of the others…”

“Sure, right… Then also… What happened to your dad? Do you even know?” Her coworker frowned, “Dave is in the springlock suit now so clearly whatever happened on the night he tried to off you didn’t like—kill him—“

Damn. They really are “balls deep in denial” as Micheal put it. Yet they seemed head over heels for her dad. She guessed pining for a serial killer grants amazing cognitive dissonance…

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed off, “Not sure on that one… Just glad it was over…”

“Sorry. Am I prying too much?”

“No, no… You aren’t the first. My whole upteenth highschool class found out and none of those idiots did the math… Those who did just think I’m a liar.” She laughed nervously, “I’m just… thinking about something myself…”

“Wait wait wait. How many times have you had to go through highschool?! That sounds like hell—“

“It is. Still look too young for college… But if we don’t want to be investigated I have to keep acting at the age I look…” She rolled her eyes, “Though the state aren’t competent enough to notice the same person going through their school system every other four years…”

“What if you stop faking and tell—“

“I end up in a government facility most likely…” She answered bluntly.

Her coworker snorted.

“It is a genuine fear of mine, really. It’s why Michael and I have to come back whenever a new thing related to the franchise pops up. If people knew the full truth…” She paused, “I bet even the ghosts in the suits would be in the same boat as me then…”

“…Oh.”

“Man… I’ve never told anyone this shit before… This feels…like a weight is off my shoulders…”

“You’ve been that isolated… Unable to tell the truth to anyone…For 30 years…?!”

“Yep. Just myself, Micheal, and…”

Rebecca stopped herself. Mikey was already pissed about the amount of information they had to disclose to this person due to the sheer fact “Dave” was in the equation. As much as she wanted to let it out, she’d get in trouble for mentioning another huge name for the brand.

“Sorry, I’m prone to oversharing…”

———

“Ms.Clair, I know you’re about to leave, but have you seen Mi—“

Rebecca grabbed from behind, making her panic on reflex, letting out a very childlike noise despite her biting her lips.

“Jason!” Clair scolded.

“What? I needed to get through the doorway.” Jason smirked at her, “Are you gonna come around here often or—“

“Yes… I-I work here?” Rebecca was autistic and oblivious to any sort of flirting. It seemed Jason was taking that as a bit of a challenge.

“Well, you like making it difficult, huh?”

“Making what difficult?” She was more confused than offended or creeped out, “W-was I really that much in the way? S-sorry—“

“It’s so easy to make you apologize.” Jason snickered, “It’s really cute how you get all flustered…”

The sound of inexplicable metal hitting the door made Jason jump.

“SHITSHITSHIT—“

He turned around, sighing in relief when Springtrap wasn’t standing behind him. It was just that guy with the weird skin condition holding a spare part.

“Man, don’t fucking scare me like that.” The shorter man growled, “Can’t you see we’re having a conversation?!”

“Oh? Want to try doing something about it?” Micheal asked with a threateningly casual tone that was eerily identical to Springtrap’s.

“Whatever. I’m fucking out of here.” Jason huffed, giving the younger figure one last concerned glance. “Good luck with that thing.”

“Bye…I guess?” Rebecca blinked as Jason and Clair left, before turning to her brother, “Mike, where have you been? It’s been an hour.”

“Oh, I was just on the phone.”

“For an hour?!”

“Had to deal with some things after the call.”

“What things?”

“Things.”

“Ugh! Stop being difficult—“

“No.” Her brother chuckled, messing up her hair, “You do realize that man was hitting on you, right?”

“Hold on. He was WHAT?!”

“There you two are.” Their coworker smiled, “I finally found Dave in his room, and I see you found—“

Rebecca punched her brother in the chest repeatedly, as he started horse-playing with her, leading her to giggle, “H-hey! Let go—“

“Nope… Sibling privilege.” Micheal had her in a headlock, finally letting her go as she managed to get a good hit on him, “Fuck—!”

“Ha!”

“Below the belt? Really?” He smirked.

“It’s not like you have anything valuable down there!” She snapped back, getting too caught up in playing with her brother to notice who just entered the establishment.

“Oh jeez… Would you crazy kids stop wrestling each other on the clock?”

Rebecca lost all of the color in her face hearing that voice. No. No no no. Henry was here?! But her father was here?! Oh shit… This was going to end so…so badly. What was Michael thinking?!

“Your hair’s all over the place, kiddo.” The man walked over and fixed it for her, as well as straightening her shirt, “There! Now if only your brother would stop messing it all up…”

“Heh… No promises.”

Unseen by everyone, Springtrap watched from the farthest end of the hallway Micheal had come from. He was absolutely seething. William had no idea that Rebecca ended up being taken in by Henry after his death. Seeing his former business partner fix his daughter’s hair in such a fatherly manner while she clearly seemed embarrassed by it was enough to make him want to strangle him. That bastard, that hypocrite.

Taking in his child after banishing him from his own company, stealing his work, and leaving him without a way to feed that same child and her older siblings back in the 80’s? Just who did Henry think he was?! Some savior?!

“Uh… Who is this?”

His daughter looked terrified as her coworker spoke up, but her expression turned to one of horrific dread as she noticed her father’s figure lurking at the end of the other hall.

“Oh, where are my manners?” The old man chuckled, patting Michael on the shoulder, “My name is Henry Emily. It’s a pleasure to—“

Rebecca couldn’t leave fast enough, passing her father on the way and dodging his attempt to stop her. Nope. No way. Not today. Not ever. She locked herself in the back room, prepared for all hell to break lose.

“My dad’s here isn’t he?” Charlie’s spirit asked, frowning sympathetically as the woman curled up against the wall just nodded.

“Stay in here… The others and I can try to scare him out…”

[chubby-aphrodite]

Fun fact and profile rundown of my fantrolls. Because i havent posted about them in so long. feel free to ask questions.

Stygas Xillck (twilightCognizance [TC])

(Nightblood [Mutant]/Derse/Mage of Rage) [They/He]

Technically doesn't have a real lusus

what he likes to think is his lusus is actually just a giant salamander

Likes welding and making scrap metal art

Secretly going to explode at all times

Is actually an eldritch nightmare zipped into a bag of flesh (unaware of this fact)

Vesper Blusif (clandestineAchromic [CA])

(Silverblood [Mutant]/Prospit/Sylph of Space) [They/Them]

Does tarot and fights with it like yugioh

bitingly sarcastic but in such a way it wraps around to being sincere

(is very sincere)

knows morse

is actually an eldritch daydream zipped into a bag of flesh (is also unaware of this fact)

Venusu Hansol (cinnabarGravedigger [CG])

(Rustblood/Prospit/Thief of Heart) [He/Him]

is a butler (and hates it)

smokes (and also hates it)

committed domestic terrorism at least once

odd combination of abrasive and ass-kissing

i like to describe is pinterest board as "broken heart lovecore"

Alsyna Nimari (gritzyCamelus [GC])

(Bronzeblood/Derse/Witch of Hope) [She/Her]

scavenges for scrap in the desert and sells it

has an extremely high voltage double sided extendable cattle prod as a weapon

her girlfriend is in another ocean

she can be almost motherly at times

takes no shit

Colkis Safrin (goldenAutomaton [GA] (formerly goldenApothecary))

(Goldblood/Derse/Knight of Void) [She/Her]

very sweet on the outside

driven by guilt on the inside

she's all right now! (missing her left arm and leg)

pick you poison (or don't. she might not have your order in until tuesday anyway.)

plagued by visions (does not care very much)

Xeonii Gelgle (alaryAvian [AA])

(Oliveblood/Prospit/Page of Life) [They/Them]

acerbic in only the way they can be

got an avian lusus? going somewhere without them? have i got the birdsitter for you!

can't afford to refill their cocoon with slime

has a pet bird named archduke franz birdinand

plagued by visions (cares too much. may or may not be a cosmic plaything.)

Eraria Nekses (asterionsCrochet [AC])

(Jadeblood/Derse/Maid of Breath) [She/Her]

she drinks... wine. (she made it herself!)

nobody gets past her minotaur dad and lives to tell the tale. unless it's colkis or alsyna.

believes in second chances. and third. and fourth. and fifth.

she crochets in her spare time

missing an eye and part of her horn

Phaida Gliess (tremulousAria [TA])

(Tealblood/Prospit/Heir of Light) [She/Her]

works in the propaganda office (does not like it)

sad failgirl who inexplicably attracts peoples

it takes a lot to push her to extremes but when she's there she's there

the stupid hat is non-negotiable

self loathing up the wazoo

Drakoh Slygra (controlledChaos [CC])

(Ceruleanblood/Prospit/Prince of Doom) [He/Him]

asshole but he has a nice ass

violent and confrontational but somehow charming enough to pull it off

contractually obligated by the government to cause mayhem

hypocrite of the highest order

flirty to a fault (a really big fault. this man is in some kind of cheating mobius strip.)

Perisi Tarene (testyTrifler [TT])

(Purpleblood/Derse/Seer of Time) [She/Her]

she goes to church every week to start theological arguments

extremely blind without her glasses

likes to find meaning in numbers (thinks being good at math is a personality)

really short

might bite you

Sybell Myrrki (ghastlyGashes [GG])

(Purpleblood/Prospit/Prince of Blood) [She/Her]

if you touch perisi you will die a painful death by her hand

is the sole reason nobody has killed perisi for blasphemy yet

the bangs aren't just fashionable, they're functional! (covers her blind eye)

woman of few words

swings both ways. violently. with a bat.

Nemosa Laevis (commandeeredTrireme [CT])

(Violetblood/Derse/Bard of Doom) [She/Her]

doesn't do anything half assed

scourge of the seas, enforcing the rule of the empire without scrutiny

her girlfriend is in another desert

doesn't question much in life

if she puts on her jacket shit just got real

Amphia Reynas (abyssalTristesse [AT])

(Fuschiablood/Derse/Rogue of Mind) [She/Her]

well meaning, but sheltered and out of touch

gee amphi how come the author let you have TWO lusii?

Smart in a book smarts kind of way but dumb in the social interactions and real world wisdom kind of way

if you get between her and whatever she has her spear pointed at you are dead dead dead dead dead

bubbly

[firespirited]

Vague indefinable under the weather thing became a very defined half way down the head divide sinusitis mid morning.

It wasn't as easy to spot because there's just been ongoing 'ouch' of the head and face due to the neck issues but yeah you can actually see the swollen sinuses and that clear divide down the head is unmistakable. I really should have worn my mask on walks even though I don't approach anyone (except bully cops I guess) to avoid the pollen.

Then again, funny thing I went out with Sis this morning, it was cold so we were wearing masks for cold and the woodfires which give you a good lungful of nasty and we got lectured by a rando about how unnecessary it all is and how much money 'they' have made off this

and how his latest booster made him feel sick even though by his own admission he got covid the last time he went unmasked in public earlier this year.

I just cheerfully pointed out that the vaccine hurts less than the infection, masks are useful for more than just covid and thanked him profusely for doing his civic duty of masking in public transport and shops as an immunocompromised person. But like, dude, we have two really cute dogs and the weather's been interesting, half the country's protesting now that the government have shown they'd rather throw away democracy and our freedom of expression than tax a few corporations a little better (it is literally so little money that we could make buying back your own company stock from excessive profits illegal and collect double what's needed for pensions from just this year. The insistance that pensions must be funded by workers with no corporate or government help is stupid, the math indicated we won't be in the red til 2030 so tax some billionaires already, they can protest live in Monaco or Luxembourg (and get super bored and crawl back) if they insist on not leaving france's luxuries to far behind...

Oh look there so much to talk about that I got derailed (not that it takes much LOL) but mr man had to scold us for being silly gooses for wearing masks and tell us his incoherent but important thoughts on the matter. I know I'm probably contagious with a bad cold right now, didn't get to work that into the conversation though. Sis talked about how much more she's able to enjoy nature as an asthmatic since masks though so that was nice. We shot eachother a lot of subtle side eyes especially when he casually dropped that half the party he went to unmasked got horribly sick from that party.

If you feel like that dude, please do try different mask types and mask comfort aids. Everybody has to find what they can wear for long periods without pain. For me it's a China made K95, straps in the back, changed every hour so the sweat doesn't chafe my skin but I have to be really careful to not end up with an inperceptible flow of hot wet air straight into my right eye. Sis likes the fish shaped k94. Doc uses a duck shape for minimal face chafing.

I've put a few things on hold til my health gets slightly better. I really want to rework the neck on the lovely 1/6 bjd Maleficent sent and then paint her not with human blushing but like she's part of a crockery set. The one great auntie Francis left us a few years ago is a gold trimmed fruit motif and blue china is pretty but already done so I was thinking more along the lines of something with strawberries because I love her porcelain paleness and a strawberry motif would allow me to keep the face simple and stylized. (writing this down because ideas do sometimes spark during the SADS but I often completely forget them).

Jewel Richie had an 'incident' in the post and has been undeliverable since Thursday but amazon doesn't open the refund/rebuy options til tomorrow. I'll have to decide then. The vagueness of 'incident' made me think OK, maybe the roads/trains were blocked but the 'cannot be delivered' kind of implies the package got smashed up or in the same truck as idk a bottle of ink or something.

I think it's maybe why I had a doll dream, I imagined a rainbow high rolling into a roadside somewhere after someone forgot to properly shut the van doors or something.

Then again, I spent most of last night talking over (with my own brain) how the Shoah probably 'killed' Gd (mine the xian god who is supposed to have a personal relationship with people, not necessarily anyone else's - i can explain in detail if anyone is interested, the law of free will wasn't broken other xian specific things were) for me to an imaginary rabbi questioner (he was very nice, if pushing further than I dared to talk, in the daydream and had experience with christianity in the form of evangelicalism so I didn't have to explain certain concepts that are absolutely not in the Talmud and not really the new testament either.) and really felt my shame that a genocide unrelated to me shook a faith (xianity) that's a disrespectful sect of their faith. Nevertheless I was 10, and the idea that the gospels weren't the symmetrical conclusion to the Talmud was never in question and even considered blasphemy if I ever brought it up. I was such a different person by 14 then 16 facing it again. To think I thought jewish people were as brainwashed as I was into the belief that martydom is a noble death. Yeah I mentioned the nice fever dream about the dolls because many times sick musings end up in 'the roads not taken' , existential crises and lists of people who probably took years off my life. Fun stuff.

Lily is picking up this march, she is happy and well. I think she may have had a tough winter but for 14 she is very fit and still very much a mischief, she's started doing her upside-down dances, asking for fuss and thieving from my recycling bin again. I love her to bits.

Have a lovely day everyone. Stay safe and relatively sane ❤️❤️❤️

[ao3feed--reylo]

the breeding clinic

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6I3cTSi

by foesandlovers

After a deadly viral outbreak twenty years prior, eighty percent of the male population of Jakku has been decimated. In an effort to repopulate, the government introduces "breeding clinics"; safe establishments employing virile men from all over the galaxy as sperm donors.

Though it happened when Rey was still a little girl, she's now twenty-six and she's ready for a baby of her own.

In walk Dr. Ben Solo and Dr. Kylo Ren. They're intimidating and only work as a duo. But Rey wants the best odds on her side and the clinic's website promised her they were the best of the best.

...She has no idea what she really signed up for.

___

 WARNING: BULLSHIT MEDICINE, DO NOT TAKE ANY OF THIS SERIOUSLY OR AS AN ACCURATE DEPICTION OF REAL-LIFE MEDICAL PRACTICES — I'M MAKING SHIT UP AS I GO FOR THE SAKE OF GOOD SMUT.

IMPORTANT: Mentions of child loss/miscarriage, difficulty conceiving/infertility and child neglect. Take care of yourself, okay?

I'm still writing this so I have no idea where it'll take me but what I do know is that it'll be short and hella smutty. Buckle up.

This is unedited, so bare with me until I can revisit it.

Words: 3439, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Additional Tags: Breeding, mfm, Medical Kink, Mild Lactation Kink, Kylo Ren and Ben Solo Tag Team Rey, No they're not the same person here, I know it doesnt make sense but let's pretend it does, inappropriate use of the speculum, Lots of Cum, NIpple stimulation, wild medicine that makes no sense and is very inappropriate alright, gotta make sure it takes, Squirting, Loss of Virginity, men have kinda gone extinct and now we gotta repopulate Jakku, Doctor/Patient, Sperm Donors, Rose is briefly mentioned living her best life, gapping, tag teaming, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, impregnating the good ol fashion way, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Double Vaginal Penetration, Anal Sex, Anal Play, Dildos, intrusive medical exam, Medical Examination, Reylo - Freeform, I'll add the tags as I go, also im pretty sure my math is not mathing right now so dont look at it too closely, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6I3cTSi

[superstrijder00]

I'm not from the US so not one to one situation but yeah I feel this. My school didn't have a well-defined "gifted track" but essentially me (and my government case worker) had to get the school to make these special things. This resulted in a bunch of ideas that were nearly all half-baked and/or low effort attempts to get me off their tail until I was already nearly done with school.

In first year the people who were already good enough at English (non mother tongue for us) to be able to talk in it were given an improvised book club. Reading and finding the books was on our own time and our parents dime. I loved reading so for me it was no issue but realistically it was just extra work.

Year 2 they gave up on that and we got programming from someone doing an internship at our school. These were after school classes and the guy clearly didn't know how to teach programming to 12 year olds which is totally fair. We messed around with programming for a year, but then he left.

So in year 3 the school gave up and 2 different teachers just gave me a university textbook? One for maths and one for microbiology. The maths was terrible but I did actually enjoy reading the biology and then talking about it with my biology teacher after school. But importantly, what I was begging for was not this at all, it was to please let me stop having to make incredibly repetitive exercises for things like grammar and spelling.

In year 4 I was graciously allowed into the higher English course which supposedly was all about learning to talk and things like idioms, rather than these boring exercises... yeah it was more boring spelling and grammar exercises, and I still had to make the normal ones too for both English and Dutch. I refused to do the next level of that the next year.

Then in the semifinal year when I finally became competent enough to advocate for myself better, and decided no longer to put up with this, I got the school to let me finish some classes 1 year early. It meant roughly double work that year for those classes (since, again, you can't skip things you have demonstrated 10x you can do well. Thems the rules) but it left me with lots of free time in my last year that I could take actually interesting college courses in that actually *replaced* my normal classes rather than coming on top.

I think a lot of the skepticism and derision toward the idea of "gifted kid burnout" stems from the fact that a lot of folks have no idea what the gifted track in most high schools actually looks like; they've got this mental image, possibly informed by popular media depictions, of "gifted kids" as a privileged group of students who get to go on extra field trips, monopolise the teachers' attention in class, and constantly be told how special they are, but who are otherwise treated identically to all the other kids.

In practice, the gifted track in most high schools – most North American high schools, at any rate – has the same problem as any other educational program: the need to adhere to published metrics. These programs exist for the benefit of students only insofar as those benefits can empirically be measured, which leads to several common outcomes:

Students on the gifted track being afforded fewer choices regarding elective classes – often to the extent of having no choices at all – in order to stream the highest-performing students into the subjects that are most valuable in terms of boosting institutional metrics.

Students on the gifted tracking receiving restricted access to educational resources such as tutoring because it's perceived as a waste of funding. In many cases, gifted students are not only denied access to tutoring, but expected to serve as volunteer tutors and teaching assistants themselves, effectively becoming a source of unpaid educational labour for the schools they attend.

Students on the gifted track being assigned considerably more homework, often literally doubling their workload in an environment where homework loads are already routinely high enough that kids have difficulty finding time to eat and sleep, simply because you get more measurable academic performance data that way.

The upshot is that the gifted track is often less about fun perks and constant praise, and more about receiving less freedom, fewer resources, and heavier workloads than one's peers, getting strong-armed into providing unpaid labour to the school on top of it, and constantly being told one should be grateful for it – and that's without touching on the fact that the unspoken secondary purpose of many gifted programs is to serve as a quarantine for all the neurodivergent kids the school couldn't find an excuse to institutionalise or expel.

Like, shit, there's a reason kids on the gifted track exhibit elevated rates of alcoholism and substance abuse compared to general student populations. That doesn't arise in a vacuum!

(To be clear, I'm not saying that people graduating from high school and immediately having an existential crisis upon realising they're not special after all isn't a thing that happens, but in my experience that's more usually something that happens to the kids who were on the football team, and reframing it as a nerd culture thing is really weird.)

[the-firebird69]

So the wage at first is not much and it went up from like 1250 to 1800 then to 2000 something and that was going from the Burgesses to the Colonial Congress to the Continental Congress and that Social Security our government money. And the rebels are said to be paying his wage anymore or less are and that's who's doing it next door. This money then increases at the Continental Congress and the stipend that goes with it the Colonial Congress stipend was not much money so the wage counts for a lot more than you think and JC was doubled from Colonial Congress to continental Congress and it was increased a lot it's not a regular cola you look at the cola number and it's very small.

We estimate the salary to be a representative for the Burgess is what he has started out as and that was in Virginia and it was a group of land owners and it kind of was surrounded by actual empire and it's in there **** him off saying the things they are to our son saying he's not worth anything having other people say it and you got really mad and they wanted him to and they're trying to express they control everything by pestering people like this doesn't mean much unless they stick to their schedule and that's what he tells us in the way they want so we are on it and he was making about $1.50 a day and he earned it because he's fighting for the people there and they were there so they had some duplicity but not much but back then they needed to then he went into the Colonial Congress that was around 1758 so we can calculate the increase a little bit from $1.50 our son went from around 12150 to 1800 it's not a huge increase so it would be up to about $1.95. Then it transferred into the Continental Congress which was actually a different structure than the Colonial Congress who were considered to be quite stingy in 1789 it's the only number we can get that was after the Revolutionary War they gave himself some money for a good job and to try and continue by being liquid. And $6 an hour at the time so if you increased by one 3rd because that's a high number $1.95. you would get $2.53 an hour and thus the the increase is reflected a little in several increases that Social Security provided. It came when he joined up the Continental Congress . But that was before the Continental Congress which would be October 26. The increase from Colonial Congress to continental Congress would be significant it's more than a third it's more like 50%. Increase of $2.53 is $3.80. So you take 50% of 253 and add it to 253. And what you get is the $3.80. Now that was his hourly wage if you multiply that times 8 roughly times 5 their work day was about that roughly* 52 you get about $7900. And in today's money regarding inflation And that's about$2.5 million or something and it works out to exactly$322,709 and you add inflation of 1.5% per year and it's kind of high so I brought it to 2.5 million. Is an average of about 1.35%. And $2.5 million you would have to divide by 12$208,000 which doesn't make sense. So you have to work it the other way And the other way is 50% increase now that's not that hard Everybody interrupts i'm doing math so that comes out to $3300 and it's Camilla interrupting and it was not Benedict Donald who passed away to provide the money at the Continental pay rate raise.. Now there would be a significant salary raise yes and it would go up and he calculates that it's roughly going to be a $1200 ad and it comes down to $1100 when you account for the cola roughly plus or minus only a few dollars. It is because of the Raise at the Continental Congress which occurs this year. We do think that it is the missing. Of time that they will pay cause he sent it in and it's about $17,000 and that won't last long About a year and a month or two but it's an increase and it's derived by the Mac proper and us some of the rebels and foreigners. There were several increases during the burgeoness and during the colonial Congress there were some increases and there will be during the Continental Congress. During the Continental Congress it begins in around May and April it gets to be ridiculously huge they raise it when he becomes a general. It goes up about 40%. So that's 3300 ish spin 4 what's oh it's no 40% or that would be about$4700 a month in April Which really only amounts to almost $60,000 a year but it's almost 2.7 times as much as he making now

And it's a lot better but it's not permanent income they're just it's just money that comes from what they owe him. And it's abysmal however he is making money from his own businesses while this is going on the empire proper are ordering stuff from us and they usually have the Pseudo Empire pay and they are going to do that and they're ordering a lot of booze. And not from Bud bush mich miller but they're ordering tons of it from other companies

There's other products and things parts and so forth and even though they don't want it they pay a stipend. And they calculate it and they send money that he's owed and they send the money down here and have these guys move it by destroying each other and they haven't paid and they calculate how much to pay by a certain level job he supposedly has and they're ridiculous anybody in his position would know what to do. But yeah they're crazy he's transported we have probably a 40% of the lower level beers and they call them that but there's still fairly decent quality and that is probably 1/8 of the higher level beers but still that is a huge amount of beer and they're giving him minute amounts of money for it it's really gross he did a lot of work and it's really really gross and we're going to try and increase it it's a small percentage it's a many billions of dollars or more and for this month it was a very big month probably only about $500 and he says that it accounts for a portion of the or a segment of the economy it's so big and that's a teeny bit of money it's a percentage and it's a percent of 10% no it's less than that but it's a lot of money and it's a lot of stuff so we are complaining and it's not good but there are other things that they are talking about doing and he's doing it globally right now their orders are in for more booze and that's what George was doing and they don't pay much because they know what he's trying to do and the orders are twice as much as what they were before increasing the amount of alcohol we're making for those companies to 80% and they hope to shut it down and take all of the market share by having us do it and or take it by force in the Midwest so it's a question the question comes up if that's happening now I don't have to be a general to understand that my brother was making money before he was a general and he was in Virginia probably selling tobacco And it comes to reason that he had other businesses and was doing well and our son is doing other businesses other than what he did and it's going to change then they say they'll shift the responsibility over and he says no you want or shift it over on you and yeah you have an address and you have your one brain and one body each and they dont get it their lives fall off daily lots of them higehr ups too and they push it all day allnight poverty is no fun you ditios nd we treat you as such...and yeh ok you yeleled scramed and more. so you deal wth it.

There will be more money because of other things he's doing and they do agree to do that is to try and implicate him and try to motivate themselves and our son says that you're really not doing much which is good and you enjoy them being associated in social and so on and so on. but really from tobacco growth we have grown enough tobacco to supply the United States for a week ourselves and we only started last month and we probably have about 120th of the market of the globe which is gigantic by the way come to think of it that's very huge we're going to take over the marijuana industry and we have about 30% of the automobile industry and soon will have about 70% and the Mac proper are going to have to do something they're not all in the bunkers even though those bunkers are huge it's about 45% of them and they're losing people and they're losing territory and losing power and they can't afford to sit around making soap it's funny. And the reason why we say we'll have 70% of the automobile industry is because we'll be producing most of the parts as almost none of you can get together on it and we have to do that. More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

good publish

now Hera

now arrainna nuada

and now pls Proxima Midnight Lobo

oltos of uslots and Uriel and Goddess Wife good

[jcmarchi]

Bringing an investigator’s eye to complex social challenges

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/bringing-an-investigators-eye-to-complex-social-challenges/

Bringing an investigator’s eye to complex social challenges

Anna Russo likes puzzles. They require patience, organization, and a view of the big picture. She brings an investigator’s eye to big institutional and societal challenges whose solutions can have wide-ranging, long-term impacts.

Russo’s path to MIT began with questions. She didn’t have the whole picture yet. “I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life,” says Russo, who is completing her PhD in economics in 2024. “I was good at math and science and thought I wanted to be a doctor.”

While completing her undergraduate studies at Yale University, where she double majored in economics and applied math, Russo discovered a passion for problem-solving, where she could apply an analytical lens to answering the kinds of thorny questions whose solutions could improve policy. “Empirical research is fun and exciting,” Russo says.

After Yale, Russo considered what to do next. She worked as a full-time research assistant with MIT economist Amy Finkelstein. Russo’s work with Finkelstein led her toward identifying, studying, and developing answers to complex questions. 

“My research combines ideas from two fields of economic inquiry — public finance and industrial organization — and applies them to questions about the design of environmental and health care policy,” Russo says. “I like the way economists think analytically about social problems.”

Narrowing her focus

Studying with and being advised by renowned economists as both an undergraduate and a doctoral student helped Russo narrow her research focus, fitting more pieces into the puzzle. “What drew me to MIT was its investment in its graduate students,” Russo says.

Economic research meant digging into policy questions, identifying market failures, and proposing solutions. Doctoral study allowed Russo to assemble data to rigorously follow each line of inquiry.

“Doctoral study means you get to write about something you’re really interested in,” Russo notes. This led her to study policy responses to climate change adaptation and mitigation. 

“In my first year, I worked on a project exploring the notion that floodplain regulation design doesn’t do a good job of incentivizing the right level of development in flood-prone areas,” she says. “How can economists help governments convince people to act in society’s best interest?”

It’s important to understand institutional details, Russo adds, which can help investigators identify and implement solutions. 

“Feedback, advice, and support from faculty were crucial as I grew as a researcher at MIT,” she says. Beyond her two main MIT advisors, Finkelstein and economist Nikhil Agarwal — educators she describes as “phenomenal, dedicated advisors and mentors” — Russo interacted regularly with faculty across the department. 

Russo later discovered another challenge she hoped to solve: inefficiencies in conservation and carbon offset programs. She set her sights on the United States Department of Agriculture’s Conservation Reserve Program because she believes it and programs like it can be improved. 

The CRP is a land conservation plan administered by USDA’s Farm Service Agency. In exchange for a yearly rental payment, farmers enrolled in the program agree to remove environmentally sensitive land from agricultural production and plant species that will improve environmental health and quality.

“I think we can tweak the program’s design to improve cost-effectiveness,” Russo says. “There’s a trove of data available.” The data include information like auction participants’ bids in response to well-specified auction rules, which Russo links to satellite data measuring land use outcomes. Understanding how landowners bid in CRP auctions can help identify and improve the program’s function. 

“We may be able to improve targeting and achieve more cost-effective conservation by adjusting the CRP’s scoring system,” Russo argues. Opportunities may exist to scale the incremental changes under study for other conservation programs and carbon offset markets more generally.  

Economics, Russo believes, can help us conceptualize problems and recommend effective alternative solutions.

The next puzzle

Russo wants to find her next challenge while continuing her research. She plans to continue her work as a junior fellow at the Harvard Society of Fellows, after which she’ll join the Harvard Department of Economics as an assistant professor. Russo also plans to continue helping other budding economists since she believes in the importance of supporting other students.   

Russo’s advisors are some of her biggest supporters. 

Finklestein emphasizes Russo’s curiosity, enthusiasm, and energy as key drivers in her success. “Her genuine curiosity and interest in getting to the bottom of a problem with the data — with an econometric analysis, with a modeling issue — is the best antidote for [the stress that can be associated with research],” Finklestein says. “It’s a key ingredient in her ability to produce important and credible work.”

“She’s also incredibly generous with her time and advice,” Finklestein continues, “whether it’s helping an undergraduate research assistant with her senior thesis, or helping an advisor such as myself navigate a data access process she’s previously been through.”

“Instead of an advisor-advisee relationship, working with her on a thesis felt more like a collaboration between equals,” Agarwal adds. “[She] has the maturity and smarts to produce pathbreaking research.

“Doctoral study is an opportunity for students to find their paths collaboratively,” Russo says. “If I can help someone else solve a small piece of their puzzle, that’s a huge positive. Research is a series of many, many small steps forward.” 

Identifying important causes for further investigation and study will always be important to Russo. “I also want to dig into some other market that’s not working well and figure out how to make it better,” she says. “Right now I’m really excited about understanding California wildfire mitigation.” 

Puzzles are made to be solved, after all.