Valkyrie's Corner

It is I, the dictator of the Scrambled Eggs Universe; jack-of-all-fandoms, master of none. Welcome to a place of puns and weird ramblings.

[hexpatient]

me: im disabled and have limits

the smartest most intelligent guy in the world with the most hugest dick ever like so big, like the biggest dick ever, man and also soooo intelligent and thoughtful and just so so intelligent: have you tried pushing yourself?

[ammnontet]

the ghoul

[writeofthevalkyries]

how it feels being neurodivergent and thinking you've finally been accepted by the group

[fivetrench]

Shit just happens to you when you're a tuna crab

[writeofthevalkyries]

This is how it feels trying to have a savings account in 2026

[writeofthevalkyries]

My beautiful sexy partner: not eating because they can't think of what to eat

My traumatized brain: they are secretly trying to get you to make food and they are mad at you

My rational brain: definitely not the case, very odd of you to make that leap

My OCD brain: it's your job to make food and you have to it's your job to make food and you have to it's your job to make food and you have to

My PDA brain: therefore you will not ever make food and you will also eat nothing today :)

My OCD brain: in that case we must do nothing at all and remain immobile so that time freezes and we've committed no crime

My rational brain: wait do I get a say in thi-

My OCD brain: no

My PDA brain: no

[winterswake]

Everyone’s been really nice so far. Some more than others.

Undercover Boss: Where Are They Now?

[deadinthename]

Sigh (i am also aro btw)

[going2hell4everythingbutbeingbi]

things to say after fucking up egregiously

pack it up boys we've made a social blunder

let's run that again

one more time normal style

I'm going to become a statistic

further proof god is out to get me

it's because I tore my acl senior year

I couldn't do it for religious reasons

my ex took my talent in the divorce

good thing nobody saw that (said directly to someone who definitely saw it)

[viejospellejos]

[slyandthefamilybook]

[writeofthevalkyries]

Mom the pie is being mean to me

[byjove]

My mom inherited two pianos with her new house and one is gorgeous and a very rare 1840s model from a company that no longer exists and you’re thinking ‘Oh, that’s awesome! Score!’ No. It has a cast iron base and it has been there so long it is warping the floor. It is unplayable and she has had the piano tuner over multiple times. She feels like she can’t just junk it because it is a rare antique worth thousands if it was in good condition but it is in horrible condition and it is too heavy to be moved or sold and it is FUBAR and taking up space. My mom plays piano and the other piano is perfectly playable but it is cheap and hideously ugly. She has the beautiful piano that is useless and the useful piano that does not match the decor. And we know exactly why the last owners didn’t bother moving either of them. Two white elephants and she is now in charge of herding them.

[writeofthevalkyries]

The obvious solution is a Singing in the Rain scenario where you hide the ugly piano behind a large curtain and invite people to hear you play the pretty one. You pretend to play it while your mom plays the ugly piano behind the curtain. Everyone loves you and you get rich.

[fanficsthatnobodyaskedfor]

No Hats Indoors

A Tony Skylar X Robert Muldoon oneshot

A/N: I have no idea what the hell this is

“Morning, Tony.” Robert Muldoon drags his chair next to me and reclines lazily in it, his feet up on my desk. 

I’m concentrating hard on the report on my screen, typing busily, trying to ignore Muldoon’s gorgeous legs. 

“Anything new from Isla Sorna?”

I can feel his gaze on the back of my neck, but I’m still doing my best to ignore him. I keep typing. 

Assets MTR5 and FTR6 displaying strong affiliative behavior at 6 months, continue monitoring for signs of territorial aggression. FTR6 excellent development of cranial ridge, stable feeding behavior so far. Recommend further

“Has anyone told you that you type like a woodpecker on caffeine?”

I snort at this. “Yes. You have, actually. Several times. Now get your feet off my desk.”

Muldoon ignores me. “Brought you a coffee.”

Taking the bait, I turn to look at him. Damn. I can’t help but run my eyes over his thick, muscular legs before meeting his eyes. He’s not smiling as he hands me a paper cup stamped with a smiling dinosaur and the words “Jurassic Brew”. God, he’s cute. 

“Thanks,” I say, and take the cup from him, making sure my fingers brush his in the process.

He quickly pulls his hand away, clearing his throat, and I hide a smirk. He’s so easy to tease.

I sip the coffee and wince at the bitter taste. “How is it that we’re off the coast of Costa Rica and the coffee still tastes like shit?”

Muldoon rolls his eyes. “You know Hammond. Spared no expense.”

I scoff. “Right.” Placing the coffee on my desk, I lean forward and resume typing up my report. 

Assets MTR5 and FTR6 displaying strong affiliative behavior at 6 months, continue monitoring for signs of territorial aggression. FTR6 excellent development of cranial ridge, stable feeding behavior so far. Recommend further observation as aesthetic and temperament suggest possible compatibility for future Nublar transfer. Minimal

I cannot focus with his legs right there. Who the hell decided to let this man wear those tiny shorts onsite? And why are his thighs like fucking tree trunks? Was he a dancer in his previous job or something? My eyes are drawn to them like a magnet to… Goddamnit, I’m so distracted I can’t even think of something magnetic. I turn fully in my chair, accidentally-on-purpose brushing my knees against his outstretched legs. 

Muldoon tenses, and I wonder if he’s about to finally move his (delectable) legs, but he doesn’t. 

Interesting.

I lean back in my chair and stretch my arms out, feigning a yawn. Then I slyly reach out and lift Muldoon’s hat off his head. “No hats indoors,” I say cheekily.

“Ha-ha. Give it back.”

“Come and get it.” I hold it out of his reach.

There’s a dangerous look in his eyes which I quite like as he leans towards me. “I want you to think over your next move very carefully, Tony.” 

“Ooh, I’m scared now,” I tease. 

He leans across me and I stretch my hand out still farther, keeping his hat just out of reach. “Careful,” I drawl, pressing my hand against his firm chest. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

Muldoon jerks back as though he’s been scalded. He finally moves his feet off my desk, planting his heavy boots on the floor and standing up. Stepping around me, he yanks his hat out of my hand and then whacks me in the back of the head with it.

“Ow!” I yelp.

“Kindly keep your hands off my things,” he says, glaring at me, the tips of his ears pink. So fucking cute.

“Kindly keep your boots off my desk,” I return with a wink. 

Grabbing his SPAS-12, he strides out of the office and slams the door behind him.

Grinning to myself, I turn back to my computer monitor. Now that the handsome bastard has left me in peace, I can finally finish typing my report. I never seem to get as much done when Muldoon's around. Probably because I can’t resist a chance to make him blush.

[juney-blues]

heartbreaking:

girl has sooooooo many ambitions and ideas for projects but can only get 1.5 basic tasks done per day

[itsnickha]

[thesituation]

i don’t feel like debating that topic much farther bc truthfully if it comes down to “women will lose to men in every sport bc they don’t have as much testosterone!!!!!” my elite feminist response is honest to god “ok we will lose with honor as equals instead of having our own special Easy Mode Female category so we can win amongst ourselves” like i’m sorry i just can’t be persuaded. i’m a brick wall. i want co-ed sports

[animentality]

[queeranarchism]

A lot of the satellite footage of Gaza and Lebanon that you see in the media looks like this

And while that is obviously horrifying to me, I think people ho are still in deep denial can sort of pretend to themselves that there must have been a very big battle there, or a massive fire, or one really big bomb. The 'oh we were fighting Hamas/Hezbollah' bullshit can somehow be wielded to stay in that deep denial.

So I think they should be showing more shit like this:

Like, this makes it pretty clear that it's every house. Systematically. Can you convince yourself that Hezbollah was in EVERY house? For real? Or is it time to start facing that the IDF is deliberately going from house to house destroying a civilization?

[fanficsthatnobodyaskedfor]

Clever Girl pt.4

A Jurassic Park fan fiction

Pairing: OC X Robert Muldoon

pt. 1 pt.2 pt.3

____________

I don't move a muscle. I don't even breathe. We wait, me with my heart beating in my throat, cowering behind him, he the very picture of composure as he holds his gun in position and scans the brush for movement. He looks very much in his habitat, so that I might have admired him if my heart wasn't pounding so violently that it seemed to shake my whole body with each jarring thump. My ears strain to hear anything over the pattering of raindrops against the broad leaves of the tropical foliage.

A shriek cuts through the air, and we both jump. A bird bursts out of the trees, still shrieking as it flies away with a rowdy flap of its wings. Muldoon lowers his gun and laughs, while I drop to my knees, feeling as though I might be sick.

"All right, up you get," he says, as he offers his broad hand to me again and I accept it gratefully. He tugs me back to my feet. "Not taking kindly to the park's night life, are we?"

"Not taking kindly to dinosaurs in general," I groan, and then flinch at the sound of a low bellow in the distance.

"Dinner time." Muldoon sounds amused. His boots squelch in the mud as he heads to the Jeep again and I eye them enviously as I follow, my own sneakers soaked through from the rain. I no longer have the urge to run. With the odd paranoid feeling I keep having, of being stalked by something lurking out there in the grass, I suddenly don't mind so much being in the custody of someone who has a gun.

He opens the door to the Jeep and I eye the seat dubiously, very aware that wherever he's taking me, there's no going back. My research is done, and so might be my life outside a cell. But I can feel Muldoon's eyes on my back, and I have the unpleasant feeling that he won't take kindly to another attempt at escape. So I climb into the Jeep, feeling nauseous and cold with dread, and wait for him to enter on the other side.

The game warden doesn't join me immediately. Instead he stands for a moment, scanning the jungle trees once more.

I can't help but lean against the window, peering into the night as well. I hate this feeling. I know the dinosaurs are securely contained. I know that. But still, nothing feels right about this place. Why do I keep feeling like I'm being watched? Why does the game warden carry a gun and scan the trees so carefully when we're far from the paddocks? Surely he's not afraid of howler monkeys when he's visiting 10-ton reptilian monstrosities as his day job. I've only been here for half a week, but some of the things I've been seeing just aren't adding up and it's making me more and more uneasy.

The driver's side door opens and I jump with fright.

"Just me." Muldoon grins as he climbs into the Jeep and shuts the door, still holding my things. I reach out for them expectantly but he gives me a look and tosses them into the back seat instead. "So, the paleontology student isn't so fond of the dinosaurs. It's a lot more intimidating to see them in the flesh, I'll grant you that. Most of our scientists prefer to stay in the safety of the control room and observe them from a screen."

"I-I'm not a paleontology student," I correct him as he turns the keys in the ignition. "I'm studying linguistics and communication."

"You what?" He's frowning at me. "What, you came here to learn to speak dinosaur? Unravel the intricacies of the Tyrannosaur's grammar system?"

I give a shaky giggle at that. "Raptors, actually."

The Jeep Wrangler is slowly rumbling down the muddy road now, and I gaze out the window at the passing trees, their branches whipping in the wind, battered by torrents of rain.

"So, what have you learned?"

I'm caught off guard. "You wanna know? Can I grab my bag so I can show you my notes?"

"No."

"Oh. Um, okay. Well, there are a lot of similarities to present-day communication patterns in animals, like how cats twitch their tails when they're irritated, velociraptors do the same thing which is kind of cute."

Muldoon scoffs at this, but I keep going. "And they do the same thing the Tyrannosaur does, where they tilt their chin up when they're sizing up prey rather than a threat. They're trying to get a better sniff of it. I haven't seen that as much with modern animals since their noses are already either smaller or more front-facing."

He looks more interested now. Encouraged, I keep going. "So I was looking at their different vocalization patterns, and you can start to distinguish their pack calls by pitch and duration to know whether they're expressing contentment, irritation, summoning each other versus just checking on each other, intimidation versus mating behaviors."

"Mating behaviors? They're all female."

"Oh. All of them?" I feel a bit deflated. "Some of their behaviors looked really similar to reproductive behaviors in birds, but I guess I'll have to study it more and reevaluate the causes- oh." I stop short, embarrassed. Of course I won't be getting any more stealth observation sessions after this.

"Anyway, I found that they have a unique chuffing sound that they use only for intraspecies communication, whereas their hisses or shrieks can be used towards other species as well if they want to intimidate rather than hunt them. But I wanted to check out the other raptor paddock to compare and see whether it was a habit specific to that pack, or if it applied to the rest of the species as well. But I never got a chance to find the other raptor paddock."

"There's only one raptor paddock," Muldoon corrects.

I frown. "That's weird."

"Why do you say that?"

"So, the biggest velociraptor. She acts like a pack leader, right?"

"Well spotted. I call her the Big One. Fiercely intelligent, that one."

"Exactly. Okay, so, the 'Big One', she gives subtle commands with body language cues like head-bobbing, tail movement, the smallest of gestures. And she also vocalizes to the other raptors, with that chuffing noise they make, when she's calling them, summoning them, checking in."

Muldoon nods, and looks a little impressed. "You've got a good eye. She's quieter than the other ones, but she is definitely calling the shots. The others are less subtle, more bird-like in their behavior, and their reactions are bigger."

"Yeah! They are a little more reactive, right? So, they see something out there they don't like, they hiss and posture."

"Or they screech. They like to hold your attention so the others can creep up from behind. It's a classic ambush strategy. That's why I tell the others, 'never turn your back to a predator.' You can't let your focus on one of them distract you from the fact that there are others, watching very closely for an opportunity."

I shiver. "They are… really terrifying."

"If it were up to me, we'd destroy every last one of them." Muldoon's voice is grim. "They are dangerous, but what's worse, their intelligence is vastly underestimated. They are quick, clever, calculating. They remember things. And when a highly intelligent predator is held in captivity, by people who cannot comprehend what it is capable of, it can only be a recipe for disaster."

With this sickening thought hanging over us, we ride in silence for a while. Then I remember I haven't answered his question from before. "Oh, but I was saying, I noticed something weird at night. The Big One, I saw her approach the northeast fence of the paddock and stop. I thought it was odd at first because she usually doesn't test the fence like the others do. But then, she didn't test the fence. She started calling, the way she calls the other raptors, with that chuffing noise they make. But here's the really weird thing: the other raptors were already all within roughly a 20-meter radius. She's facing the fence, her back to them, her posture relaxed, stretching upward on her toes, head cocked slightly backward, bobbing up and down as she calls at a slower, slightly lower frequency. All consistent with past patterns of communication to members of her pack from a distance of 50 meters or more. That's why I assumed there was a second raptor paddock."

"I think I know what you're referring to. The first time I saw it, it shocked me. It looks like she's communicating with something outside the enclosure, but there are no raptors other than the ones in that paddock."

Damn. That's 0 for 2, I guess. I turn this new information over in my head for a while, then I ask, "So, what is she communicating with?"

Muldoon doesn't respond, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

pt.5

[fanficsthatnobodyaskedfor]

Clever Girl pt.1

A Jurassic Park fan fiction

Pairing: OC X Robert Muldoon

____________

I don't know why I talked myself into coming here.

This place gives me the creeps.

Every once in a while, I can hear the ground shaking. It's absolutely terrifying every time. To hear the low rumbling, and feel the world move beneath me, and know that somewhere not too far off, one of the largest predators to have ever existed is about to tear a cow to shreds.

Did you know that cows can scream?

I've seen it happen. Just once. It made me sick to my stomach to see that poor creature wandering through the unfamiliar terrain, then feel the ground shaking and attempt to flee, only to face its inevitable fate between the jaws of a prehistoric behemoth that should never have walked the earth at the same time as her.

I think it's a her, anyway. The guy who feeds them said he names them all Mildred, which is a sick fucking joke if you ask me. Giving them each the same name gives the idea that they're all the same creature, like they aren't breeding living things and then sending them each off to their gruesome end without the least bit of remorse.

I guess that's this whole industry, though. Playing God. Bringing creatures into a world that has no room for them, keeping them alive while they serve their purpose by meeting their bare minimum needs, and then what? People will come to this park to ogle these monsters, to point and gape and take pictures and leave, and never wonder why they've never seen a decrepit stegosaurus, or a graying pterodactyl. It's conveniently left out of the story, because visitors will love to see a little hatchling or an impressive beast in its prime, but no one wants to see the elderly, molting creature be violently mauled by a rival male who sees an opportunity. And certainly no one wants to think about the InGen crew who comes in while the park is closed, who enter the enclosure, sedate the surrounding threats, then ambush the aging beast they forced into existence, because its existence is no longer convenient.

I'm not exactly supposed to be here. I wasn't supposed to hear the shotguns or the nightmarish, agonized roars that died out into a haunting silence. And I really wasn't supposed to see the crane removing the "expired asset", whose once imposing form now dangled limply, almost pitifully, as it disappeared into the night sky.

I've been trapped here for three fucking nights, and I've already seen enough to make me despise this place and everyone who works here.

Okay, if you must know, I came here for my thesis project. My linguistics professor gave me the idea to write a paper on the language of animals. She wanted me to explore how human language evolved before the development of speech. (I know, I know, you're thinking 'blah, blah, get to the dinosaurs already!')

Anyway, I figure everyone and their mom has already read about the apes who were taught sign language or those dogs who were taught to press buttons with different words on them. And I needed to do something different. I like a challenge. I like handing in a paper that will make the professor think "Oh, this one is really doing the work!" (Yeah, yeah, I'm a suck-up.) So I figured, you know what will be really different? A paper on the language of dinosaurs. A paper that could have only been theoretical until this past year. It wouldn't just get me an 'A', it would be groundbreaking study on the evolution of intraspecies communication!

Piece of cake, right?

It was going really well at first. My advisor loved the idea, and I managed to win a discounted 3-day pass to Jurassic Park in a sweepstakes challenge by writing a rap about raptors. (It was only a 20 percent discount, but a win is a win.)

But then I got cocky. And a little ambitious. And thought, "Hey, I bet it wouldn't be hard to hide somewhere and stay after hours. Maybe the nocturnal dinosaurs are more vocal at night, yeah? Maybe they communicate differently without the presence of some 50,000 humans crowding the perimeter of their territory?"

And maybe I also needed more time to research because this is a ridiculously difficult research paper I've undertaken and I was lowkey panicking. Truth be told, I was broke and there was no way I could afford more tickets to Jurassic Park.

So I think, no big deal, I'll come early! I sneak in, get a head start on my research, and that way I'll have time to do a little more observation. I'll get what I need and hide in a bathroom stall with my feet up until the park opens and the coast is clear, then make my escape by blending into the crowds. Easy peasy.

Until a storm came, and the park shut down because there was too much mud and suddenly I was an unauthorized person on private grounds with no way to get home.

Which would be bad enough, if this private property didn't have fucking DINOSAURS on it.

Look, I KNOW they're in enclosures. I know that. And I know that there are hundreds of highly qualified professionals working together to keep this place safe and functional. (I mean, there would have to be, right?)

But, I mean, they're fucking DINOSAURS.

If you've been here, you understand. I mean, it's one thing to look at sketches or even to see a huge skeleton in a museum. But you can't really fathom how fucking MASSIVE a Tyrannosaurus Rex is until you've seen one charging the fence and suddenly there's just you and 10,000 pounds of pure destruction shaking the earth with every step and you're certain this moment will be your last one and then there's an explosion of light and you think you're dead. And then a staff member gives a shaky chuckle and says "looks like she's testing the fence!" and you sink backward into the trees and wonder whether you've shit your pants.

I sincerely do not understand why people would come here voluntarily. There is a REASON why we were not alive at the same time as them. When I observe these prehistoric animals, I can see them watching me too, their shrewd yellow eyes unblinking as they calculate my next move. I don't feel like a visitor. I feel like prey. And I feel like I /definitely/ should not turn my back to the fence.

I've barely gotten any sleep since I came here. I close my eyes and see huge jaws tearing a cow to shreds. I rest my head on the cool, tile floor and imagine I can hear clawed footsteps running toward me.

So, anyway, here I am, hiding in a kiosk and hoping I don't get arrested for trespassing. It's still pouring rain, and FREEZING because of course they don't turn on the heat in the Visitor Center when there aren't any visitors around. And I'm also starving. There's packaged snacks around, but I don't really want to add theft to my rap sheet when I'm inevitably caught. I have 2 protein bars left, but I'm really, REALLY trying to ration them. I'm sure the rain will let up tomorrow and they'll re-open the park soon, so I just have to hold out until then and pray I don't get found out. I'm hoping I'll be reallllly lucky, and get out of here unnoticed, and get an amazing grade on my paper (and maybe even get it published?) and basically impress the professor.

But honestly, right now the only thought in my mind is the fact that there are huge apex predators all over this island, separated from me by only a few lousy feet of concrete and a glorified electric fence.

Okay, I'm also thinking a lot about the crunchy chocolate peanut bars in the snack kiosk on the other side of the Visitor Center. So two thoughts in my mind.

Maybe I could just grab one and leave some money on the counter?

Just as I'm persuading myself that it's definitely NOT theft if your blood sugar is low, and abandon my hidey-hole to grab myself some ethically gray but medically necessary sustenance, I hear footsteps coming down the hall. Shit. SHIT.

I'd have to cross the main foyer to get back into my hidey kiosk. They would DEFINITELY see me. And the other kiosks are locked. Oh, god. I so do not want to be placed in custody. I'd be arrested for sure. And I really don't think I'd get an extension on my paper. What are the Visitor Center staff still doing here, anyway? They're normally all gone by now. And why did I move??

There's no time. I see a fire exit and, praying to God there's no alarm, I make a silent dash for it.

There's no alarm. I'm already drenched from the rain, but safe!

But almost immediately, something feels off.

I can't put my finger on it. I just feel it, in my gut. Something is not right, and the hairs are prickling on my neck as I try to figure out what's ringing the alarm bells in my head and making my gut drop like I've swallowed a bullet. I steady my breathing, and take in my surroundings.

There's no one else out here. I'm on the back side of the building, and there are a few trees and a lot of lush undergrowth but not much else to see. The only sound is the rain and the gusts of wind that slap my damp shirt against my skin. But I have the uneasy feeling that I'm being watched.

Slowly, I make my way around the outside of the building, staying close to the sturdy concrete because it feels like a safer presence than the unknown possibilities lurking in the foliage. I'm shivering from the cold and wishing for my jacket, which remains neatly folded under a box of magazines in the kiosk back inside. And then I hear something.

I whip my head around. A rustling movement in the trees. Was it the wind? Thunder rumbles overhear, and I jump.

My heart is beating so loudly I can hear it as I keep moving along the side of the building. I need to find shelter. Don't worry about it, I keep telling myself, like a mantra. It was probably a squirrel, or a monkey. This place has me completely spooked. I turn the corner, and come face to face with the barrel of a gun.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Aaaaaaand I'm fucked.

pt. 2

[yoonmin]

[writeofthevalkyries]

This gives me life