#but then i rolled the exact right number to take my last token home and sent a laughing emoji right before i sent it home

[pettyrevenge-base]

Insult your head closer instead of give a raise? Yeah, sure, there's no way that'll backfire.

In the late 90's I worked at a Subway restaurant; specifically closing shift. That'll be relevant later. At the time I was paid somewhere between 7 and 8 bucks an hour, a good chunk more than minimum wage, and had me bringing my A game every day. I knew it was "just fast food", but I took pride in my work. I showed up early, always covered when people called in, followed the recipes (even the really anal stuff like two slices of black olive per 6" sub unless the customer specifically requests more, etc.) By all accounts, I was a model employee. Plus since I worked alone I was the de facto shift supervisor. That's gotta be worth something. I figured I'd ask the regional manager for a raise. (Store manager didn't have the authority.) The worst he can do is say no, right?

Wrong.

Turns out the worst he can do is insult me and everyone else that works there. He was in one day and I made my pitch. He just went off on me, raising his voice shy of a full yell and saying something like "If you were worth more, you wouldn't be working here. You're replaceable, now go away and don't ever speak to me again. I'm the regional manager, and I'm actually important, you just make sandwiches and scrub toilets." Again, not the exact words, but he did make those points quite clearly. I remember being shocked into silence at such a cartoonish display of arrogance coming out of a balding middle-aged man. First time I'd ever encountered a .50 caliber douchebag. I didn't even specify an amount, I just asked for a raise. He could've given me a nickel, or even made something up like "I'm sorry wages are set by corporate, I can't do it" and while I'd have been disappointed I'd have accepted it. But no, his response to the very concept of any raise was a pretentious, self-righteous indictment against the value of every Subway employee that wasn't management. Or probably him specifically. I'd genuinely enjoyed working there, right up until that watershed moment.

OK Cheese-Dick, if that's how you want it, fine. I'll get mine, one way or another. I take pride in my work, but 7-something an hour isn't enough to engender any further loyalty after you so flippantly insulted me and everyone working for you.

Up until that point I had been meticulous about everything I did at work. Like I mentioned earlier closing shift was a one-man show, which meant I had no supervision. My effectiveness was judged based on the accuracy of my inventory numbers, counting my till, my clock-out times, and whether everything was in order when the openers arrived in the morning. I knew a few tricks to offset inventory, which allowed me to take home food without it being noticed. (Ring up a small soda as a cheese round since they were both 89 cents, etc.) On a good night I'd take home a dozen or more footlong subs. On a bad night, I'd just make sandwiches with the loaf of bread I brought from home. I'd also bring in a bunch of empty bottles or jugs, and fill them from the fountain after clocking out. I'd dump entire cambros full of meat, veggies and cheese into a bag to take home. Sometimes I'd bake an oven full of cookies with the express purpose of taking them, if I could do so without using up the rest of a box. (Because a box with one raw cookie was counted the same as an unopened box.)

The moment he made it clear what I was worth to him, I started looking for a different job. If he'd given me a token 3% cost of living increase, it'd have amounted to maybe 25 cents per hour. They had me working around 30-35 hours a week, just below "full time", so it would've amounted to under 9 bucks a week. Hell, he could've even offered a sincere apology and no raise and I would've kept on with it.  Instead for the last few months I worked there, every single night I took home what probably amounted to a couple hundred dollars worth of potential sales. Every. Single. Night.

At the time my friends and I, being late teens/early 20's, were still in the party phase of our lives. So every night I worked for those last months I'd roll up just as the party was getting wild, with a bunch of sandwiches, cookies, gallons of soda, etc. Those few months doing the bare minimum and sponging off that dead-end job were way more satisfying than giving my all for 7 and change for an insufferable bag of septic slop.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

#pettyrevenge #lol #omg

[peachbear88]

Lights

A/N: Inspired by "Lights" by Elijah Woods. Highschool AU :)

Y/BF/N = Your best friend's name

------------

"Y/N, we got an order for 2 original burgers and small fries." Wanda, your coworker calls. You grunt, flipping the beef patties on the grill swiftly before dishing them out onto buns with lettuce, tomato and cheese on them. You proceed to whirl around, lifting the fry cage up and out of the deep fryer, dumping them in a fry carton. Leaning through the small window between the kitchen and the restaurant front, you slide the meal through, winking at Wanda, who picks the meal up, blushing.

"Y/L/N! You better not be flirting back there!" Your best friend roars, leaving your face burning along with Wanda who's giggling.

"Shut up!" You shout back, attempting to hide the blush creeping up your neck.

-------------

After a long, gruelling 5 hours of your minimum wage, part time job, the three of you drag yourself out of the fast-food restaurant and into your beat up pickup truck, piling into it.

"Alright, Y/BF/N, we're dropping you off first, then I'll drop you off Wanda." You explain, starting the engine as Wanda gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Y/BF/N wolf-whistles and you glare, pressing a quick possessive kiss to Wanda's lips before pulling out of the restaurant's parking lot.

------------

"Alright babe, this is your stop." You exclaim, putting your truck in park. Wanda looks at you longingly, clutching your hand tightly. You sigh, running your hand through her hair gently. "How about I walk you to the door?" She instantly perks up, her large green eyes staring back at you. You smile and the two of you exit the truck, her backpack slung over your shoulder. She clings to you, making the two of you take your time to cross the street. When you finally arrive, Wanda pulls you around, a pout on her face. You caress her defined features, pulling her chin up a little to give her a small kiss. She whines when you pull away but you take a deep breath, steeling your nerves and knock on the door. It swings open to reveal the scowling face of Ireyna, Wanda's mother. She never liked you. The moment you started dating Wanda, she raised her defenses. Quickly ushering Wanda into the house, she snatches the backpack viciously from your outstretched hand.

"You need to stay away from my daughter. She's an angel and you, you vermin are not a saint. She could do so much better then the likes of you and yet for some unknown reason, she chooses you. I'm warning you, stay awa-." She's interrupted as Wanda tugs on her arm gently.

"Mama!" She gives her mother a sharp glance and Ireyna backs down, shooting you one last glare before slamming the door in your face. You sigh, running your hands through your hair before trudging back to your pickup truck.

------------

You arrive at your dingy apartment, flopping onto the couch before yanking out your phone. Messages from Wanda flood in and you smile to yourself. Your girlfriend of 6 years kept profusely apologizing for her mother's behaviour but your brushed it off, reassuring her everything was fine. After a good hour of texting her, you scrolled through your contacts, stopping at your best friend's name.

"What do you want?"

"I need your help tomorrow.

------------

"Seriously?" Your friend stared at the jewellry before eyeing you unbelievingly. "Your broke ass wants to buy her a ring?" You smack them before returning your attention to the multiple glass cases.

"What do you think about this one?" You ask. They peer over your shoulder at the silver band in your hand. It's thin, with small green gemstones embedded in it. "It's perfect. It'll bring out her eyes." You decide, not bothering to wait for your friend's opinion. They roll their eyes, following you to the register.

"So you're seriously going to propose? Tell me the real reason why." They pester you as you pull your wallet out, handing the ring to the man behind the cashier. "It's because of her mom isn't it." You freeze.

"Okay, I won't deny, I do want to impress her mom but it's been 6 years. I want to give her what she deserves." You explain as the man extends his hand for the payment.

"That'll be $1,800." You choke, whirling back around to him. Quickly, you scan through your wallet, finding only a few $20 bills. "Loan me?" You plead your best friend but they empty their pockets to show they have nothing.

"Y/N. We work minimum wage and we're practically broke. We can't afford it." Y/BF/N explains and you sigh.

"Sorry for the inconvenience sir. Guess we can't afford it." You bid goodbye to the man, who gives you a small smile as the two of you exit the store. An idea forms in your head and you turn to your friend. "Hold on. What if I get Wanda to move in with me and I work extra to get the ring?" Your friend opens their mouth to oppose but you don't let them finish, running at top speed towards your truck, dialling Wanda's number.

"Y/N?" Wanda's voice comes through the line, slightly tired.

"Want to move in with me?"

------------

Wanda's smile is huge as she walks into your apartment, bag slung over her shoulder. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Thank you for doing this. I know you're risking a lot." You whisper and she runs her fingers through your hair, calming you.

"I will do anything for you lyubov'." She reassures before making her way through the unit, exploring. "So where's the bedroom?" You chuckle sheepishly, rubbing your neck.

"About that... I don't have a bed." She whirls around, looking at you with concerned eyes.

"So where have you been sleeping?"

"Air mattress in the living room." You sigh, dropping your head into your hands. "Maybe your mom was right. I'm not good enough for you." You feel a pair of warm hands pull your own down from your face.

"Don't say that. We'll work through anything and everything together. One step at a time." She murmurs and you sigh, kissing her forehead.

"You're amazing."

------------

You were sitting on the couch, phone in hand as you scroll through your social media. A light snore came from beside you and you look down at the air mattress to see Wanda, book laying on her chest, her head lolled to the side, asleep. You smile, slowly lowering yourself onto the mattress, removing the book from her grasp and wrapping your arms around her.

"I love you."

------------

"Thank you so much for watching after my kids." You give her a small, tired smile. You'd recently taken up a babysitting gig to help achieve your goal of buying the ring.

"It's no problem ma'am. Just doing my job." She smiles at you before slapping a hundred bill in your hand. You stare at it before making futile attempts to shove it back into her hand.

"No! Keep it. You have no idea how much of a lifesaver you are." You thank her profusely before rushing out the house and zipping towards the ring shop. You were greeted by the friendly man from before who had kept the ring on hold for you. Finally. Finally you could show Wanda exactly how much she meant to you. You thanked the man, hopping into your truck and zooming back to the apartment complex, your speedometer never dipping below 50mph. Honestly, it was a miracle you weren't arrested.

------------

"I'm home Wanda!" You cried excitedly but were met with silence. A dark figure sat on the couch. You approached her slowly and cautiously. "Wanda?" A small sob escapes from her. You surge forwards, wrapping your arms around her small body. "What's wrong? Babe, look at me." She glares at you and shoves her phone towards you.

"Are you cheating on me?" You stare blankly at her, before looking at the photo. A photo of you outside the babysitting woman's house.

"You followed me?" You ask, your heart cracking at the distrust of your girlfriend.

"With good reason! You're never around anymore! You're always off doing something else and you won't tell me what." She yells, standing up while tears pour down her face. "I guess my mom really was right. You aren't to be trusted." She grabs her pre-packed bag, brushing past you.

"Wanda wait! Please! I'm not cheating on you. There's a reason why I'm not around anymore." You explain desperately and she stops.

"Why?" You sigh inwardly.

"I can't tell you. It'd ruin the surprise." Wanda snorts, opening the front door.

"I hope it was worth losing me then." She slams the door and you flinch, hitting your forehead.

"Stupid, stupid stupid."

-----------

You knock tentatively on the door of Wanda's house, praying that she would answer. Unluckily, her mother answers, glaring at you.

"Hi Mrs. Maximoff, is Wanda home?" She glares at you, slapping you. Your hand flies up to your face where she slapped you.

"No. I'm done with this. You've hurt my daughter once, I'll be damned if I let you do it again. If I ever so much as see you, I'll rip your arms off and shove them up your ass!" She yells. You hold your ground, proffering the bouquet of roses to her, ring box and letter hidden deep inside of it.

"Okay. Just please, I'm begging you, give her this and I'll never bother you or your family again." You plead. Her menacing demeanor falters as she grabs the flowers. "Thank you." With that final note, you stalk back out into the rain, letting it consume you.

------------

"Wanda honey? This came for you." Ireyna places the bouquet gently on Wanda's bed before closing the door behind her. Tentatively, Wanda prowls through the bouquet, pulling the letter and the ring box out. She pries the letter open, reading your words.

Wanda,

I know you probably hate me and never want to see me again but I feel that I must clarify what happened. That woman was offering me a job. A babysitting job to be exact. The reason I was taking extra jobs and not spending as much time with you was because I wanted to purchase something. Something for you. To show exactly how much you mean to me. I don't expect you to forgive me because I now know how much I hurt you. I was so blinded by the idea of an object that I neglected the real thing in front of me. I want you to have this as a token of my love.

The girl from your local fast food restaurant,

Y/N

She opens the black ring box, tears threatening to spill from her emerald green eyes. Inside, the silver band, embedded with green gemstones sits peacefully. The tears fall as she slips it onto her finger, almost subconsciously knowing that she will never see you again.

"I love you too."

-------------

Oof. Angst. Yikes. I told you @peabrain112. I told you.

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikuismybitch @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda fluff #marvel

[vagrantblvrd]

how do din and luke meet in that modern au?

Oooh, so.

I don’t know why but I really like the idea of Din being the handyman at his apartment complex - gets a cut on his rent and pretty flexible schedule to take care of his tiny gremlin kid - but also?

Lends a hand at Cara’s gym or Boba’s bike shop or something and Luke comes in because his bike is acting up and he can’t figure it out?

Like, Luke’s usually pretty good about keeping his bike up to speed and stuff but there’s something wrong with it he can’t figure it out?

Din’s filling in for one of Boba’s guys, only one in when Luke pulls in and it’s like oh, no, he’s ridiculously attractive, and somehow he manages not to make a fool of himself.

He thinks Luke might be flirting with him??? There’s a lot of smiling and even some leaning, Luke in that yellow jacket of his and big old smile and pretty blue eyes leaning on the counter telling Din all about his bike woes and such with this smile like hey, what can you do, right?

Meanwhile Din’s gripping the ballpoint pen so tight the the plastic cracks - one of those clear plastic ones, name of Boba’s shop worn away from use and whatnot, and he is trying, okay, he is trying to be a professional but Luke is making it really, really hard. NO. Difficult. Luke is making it really, really difficult.

He has no idea what he writes down on the paperwork. Boba calls him up the next day trying to make sense of it and Din is like shit because for the life of him he cannot recall anything about the whole encounter aside from Luke. (Well, okay, he does once his brain kicks into gear, but when he’s talking to Boba on the phone it’s static.)

Anyway.

Luke with his big smile and pretty blue eyes and all that leaning and Din goes out to check on Luke’s bike and it’s something that needs a new part, and Luke’s bike is an older model - “It was my dad’s,” he says, this odd smile on his face, something that tells Din it’s better not to ask after that tidbit just yet - and he’ll have to order it. Should be at the shop in a day or two, and they’ll have Luke back on the roan in no time.

Because Reasons it’s not safe to drive the bike, and Boba’s shop doesn’t really do courtesy shuttle service, but Luke came in close enough to closing that Din’s sure there won’t be any more customers and Din does have his minivan, so...

And, okay, it might seem a little creepy, but also common decency since Luke mentioned being new in town and he probably doesn’t know that many people, and anyway. It would be weird to kick him out of the shop and just drive off, right????

Besides, it’s been cloudy all week and the forecasts look like they might be right for once because it feels like it’s going to be a hell of a storm, and he’d feel bad if he made Luke wait for his ride in the rain.

So Din offers to give Luke a ride home or wherever after he closes the shop, Luke tries to tell him it’s no problem, he can call a cab or a rideshare - he has a friend in town, old family friend or something but it’s kind of late and anyway, no need to go to all that trouble?

But Din insists, and it’s not like Luke’s putting up much of a fight about it, and he just hangs around while Din closes up the shop and locks up and then gets in Din’s minivan and it’s not as weird as either of them thought it would be?

They don’t really talk on the way aside from Luke offering up an address and such and Din grumbling about traffic and detours and construction. Mentions offhand to Luke about what to look out for when traffic picks up and so on.

At this point I don’t know if I like Luke staying at Obi-Wan’s place at the moment or not, but you know what would be hilarious?

If Luke gives Din his address and Din is just like ah, yes, I know exactly where that is and they zoom off in that direction only for him to have the belated realization that wait, wait. That’s my apartment complex.

But maybe that come later, you know?

A few weeks, maybe a month or two after their first meeting and Luke’s bike is acting up again and he has to bring it back into the shop and he and Din do this whole thing over again?

Only this time Luke is like, well, hot bike shop guy didn’t react badly to my flirting the first time, why not kick things up a notch? And poor Din is like oh, no, this is terrible when it’s really the exact opposite.

And maybe before he wasn’t really in the frame of mind to be looking at getting into a relationship of any kind? Busy with Grogu and work and other stuff and no real time to consider it, but things have evened out in his life and it might be nice, and then Luke walks back into his life and he’s like hmm, why not?

So double flirting and Din is pretty sure it is flirting this time - Luke did the thing when he handed his keys over, you know the one. Fingers brushing, lingering, intense eye contact and smiles - and anyway, yes.

It’s a few hours to closing, but Boba won’t mind if Din closes the shop early and Luke puts up a token protest about Din driving him home, and this time, okay, this time.

Luke gives Din his address and Din is like okay, great! And it isn’t until they’re actually on the road - the one he takes whenever he leaves Boba’s shop on his way home that he’s like, huh, and not until he’s halfway to their destination that he’s like weird.

Because last time he could have sworn Luke lived in the opposite direction, but he did say he was staying with a friend at the time, what with being new in town and all.

Still.

It’s not until he sees his the apartment complex he lives in come into view that he’s like wait, wait, wait.

His boss told him someone was moving in to one of the apartment units a week or so ago, and while he’d made note of it at the time it hadn’t come up since then.

Din stares at the apartment complex for a moment, and then looks at Luke who is all ??? at his reaction.

“You live here?” Din asks, brain no co-operating with him, so of course that’s the first thing he say.

Luke is still ??? but he’s like “Yeah, I just moved in last week. Still settling in, but it seems nice.”

Din is like. “...” because he’s convinced this is the universe playing a joke on him. (Or maybe his asshole friends, who knows.)

“Uh, yeah,” Din says, awkward as hell.

There’s a little more awkwardness before Luke starts to get out - and stops. Stares out the windshield and Din is like ??? because Luke says in an undertone, “You can do this, you’re a Skywalker,” and rips off a corner of his copy of the slip Din gave him for his keys at the shop.

Gives Din this awkward look and a little “Excuse me,” as he snags the pen in Din’s workshirt and writes his number on that bit of paper. Gives Din this crooked little smile and tips his head before it clicks that oh, oh shit. Luke’s giving him his number.

And not, you know, because of work reasons. Because his bike and Boba’s shop and just. (God, he’s a mess.)

Din takes the paper and Luke beams at him before he slips out of Din’s little minivan with a “Call me sometime!” that’s almost swallowed by the rain because rainy season and Din sits in his dumb little minivan for a long, long time after that with Luke’s number clutched in his hand and brain full of !!! because !!!.

But also, also.

Din hearing about Luke all over the place because he works with that family friend of his - Ben, something? - with some kind of youth program and he went to Cara’s gym about holding classes there or something?

Turns out he and his family friends do something with sword? Or yoga or something, Cara wasn’t clear on it, just wanted to tell him all about these weirdos and what kind of sucker did she look like? (Din rolls his eyes because he knows her, knows she said yes, and probably cut them a sweeter deal than they were expecting and anyway, anyway, he hears about Luke from her which is unexpected to say the least.

And then there’s Boba, who gets this look on his face when he realizes Dins a little moony over this guy he met, someone he met through Boba’s shop, and then it’s -

“Wait, what?”

Because Boba used to be a bounty hunter back before he settled down and opened his bike shop and Din worked with/for him a bit before Grogu came into his life and he realized he needed something steadier for the kid.

Boba’s the one to tell him about Luke being buddies with Han, and after Din sees Luke’s tattoo and hears all about his days with his biker gang back home - “It really wasn’t a biker gang, Din, really” digs up an old bounty on Luke.

Old, old, from when the whole Family Drama was going down and anyway, it was a long time ago and everything’s been cleared up and just. Don’t worry about it, okay?

Anyway, before all that there’s Luke moving a new couch into his place one day and Din on his way back from fixing someone’s sink or whatever and offers to help?

Luke is like, “Um,” because what is Din doing there?

To which Din is like, “So, i didn’t realize it at the time,but I, too, live in this apartment complex and am also the resident handyman.”

:)???

Luke just looking at him over the top of his stupidly heavy couch because what are the odds?

Din feeling a little awkward and about to scuttle on home, but Luke snorts and take Din up on his offer of help and after struggling to get it up to Luke’s place and in the door, they collapse on the couch - stupidly heavy but surprisingly comfortable.

And it’s late afternoon and Luke didn’t have time for breakfast and Din straight up skipped it getting Grogu off to to daycare. Cara’s picked him up, and she likes to keep him with her until Din calls or she leaves the gym which gives him a free afternoon, and anyway.

They order pizza and watch terrible television because they’re too damn tired to do anything else and it’s actually really nice and maybe, maybe, they kind of gravitate towards one another somewhere in there.

Dip in the couch cushions or something and leaning against one another, maybe Din’s arm goes on the back of the couch and Luke’s shoulders happen to be right there, who can say.

(Maybe, maybe, there’s this little moment when Din’s leaving because Cara texted to let him know she’s bringing Grogu back and he has to leave and Luke sees him to the door where they just kind of...look at one another.

Soft smiles and so on, and not quite at the smooching stage just yet - Din helped him move his couch, Luke fed him pizza, a date that is not - and yet?

Luke might feel a little cheeky, might dart in and press a quick little kiss  to Din’s cheek and laugh at the look on his face, might say, “I had fun, we should do it again sometime,” before Din’s phone buzzes again, Cara almost to the complex and Din has to go, and Din, okay, Din is like.

“I’d like that,” and have to run even though he really doesn’t want to, wants to spend more time with Luke, but his kid, and anyway, anyway, maybe they can go on an actual date next time.

(They kind of don’t though, but that’s fine because they have a good time anyway, and they do manage to get to the smooching stage, which is just really, really nice.)

#replies #anon #star wars nonsense #dinluke #modern au idea #technichally not a fic #vagrant fic #long post #Anonymous

[contrivedcoincidences6]

The Invisible Cord (reboot)- Chapter 1

If you want to read the prologue go here

***

I look out the window and watch the wind blow through the autumn leaves. The swirling colors are able to hold my attention far better than the droning on of my biology teacher giving her lecture.

“Ms. Meeks? Ms. Meeks!”

The teacher’s irritable voice reaches my subconscious along with a series of muffled snickers.

“Yes, ma’am?” I ask.

“You seem to be distracted. Would some extra homework tonight help you concentrate?” she asks, hands on her hips.

“I’m not distracted, ma’am. I’ve been listening.”

“Well then, what are ribosomes?” she asked, her lips pursed.

My mind moves back in time to moments before and as I picture the leaves in the trees I can hear Mrs. Jefferson’s voice telling me the answer.

“They help produce the polypeptides that make up the majority of a cell’s structure and are required for activities that are necessary for the cell’s survival,” I repeat, using her exact wording just to be a brat.

“Alright then, what about endoplasmic reticulum?” she asks with a sigh.

For this I have to think back to a few minutes earlier. I remember how the light had shone off of Mr. Randall’s car and it comes back.

“The endoplasmic reticulum is a network of membrane-covered channels that transport the materials made in the cells, and are connected to the nucleus,” I say, again using her exact wording.

“Well, you certainly have done your reading,” Mrs. Jefferson says, giving me a subtle nod of approval. She seems to want to continue her little quiz when the bell rings. The students start to get up and as I gather my things I hear her voice through the crowd.

“April Meeks. I would like to speak with you before you leave.”

I walk up to her desk, making just enough eye contact to make her uncomfortable.

“What was that performance just now?” she asks, incredulous.

“I was listening to you, Mrs. Jefferson,” I say with a small shrug.

“You were not paying attention to the discussion or even taking notes.”

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes I tap my head. “Eidetic memory,” I answer with a straight face. Try not to react as her mouth twists into an ugly pout.

“May I leave now?” I ask as she simply nods, gestures towards the door.

Not surprisingly, May is standing right outside the door. As my best friend, she seemed to sense that I’d been causing trouble and she shoots me a harmless glare. Her long black braids sway around her head as she walks next to me and waits for me to say something.

May is basically my only friend. Growing up in the same foster home our caretakers decided that our names meant we were meant to be friends. And they were right, we’ve been inseparable ever since.

“That was stupid, April.” May says in her lecturing voice. “Why would you draw attention to yourself like that?”

I gave her what had to be my fiftieth shrug of the day.

“I’m just sick of sitting in a mid-level bio class pretending like I’m actually learning something.”

“So do you not want to stick to our plan then?” she asks, stopping so that I am forced to turn around.

“I never said that,” I mutter, letting out a soft sigh. “I just- why does it have to be so boring?”

“You don’t think that I’m bored?” May throws up her hands.

“But you know if we are all pulled out of the class people will start to notice we’re different. They’ll notice and then they’ll take you again.”

I look down at my feet, clad in Converse shoes that have seen better days.

“May, just for the record one more time, you are not my mother. I know all of this. And I don’t want to get taken. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m tired, and soon enough another birthday is going to come and go and I’ll have nothing new to show for it.”

Sighing she squeezes my fingers before looping her arm through mine.

In two days it will be my 16th birthday. I know for most everyone else in my class a sixteenth birthday is an important event. Sweet Sixteen invitations have been plastered all over lockers and everyone’s excited to get their learner’s permit.

To me, it just means another year. One filled with even more questions and fear than the previous one. It just so happens May’s birthday falls exactly one month before mine and she shares the same detachment.

We’re similar in more ways than that. Both of us have little concept of our lives before the age of five. It’s not that our minds were erased, or at least we don’t think they were. There are shadows that sometimes come in the night or a moment of Deja Vu. The memories don’t seem to fit in anywhere, just like us.

Sometimes I will have flashes to my mother singing to me as she makes me my lunch but I can’t picture her face. I can think back to being in the car with my father on a road trip but I don’t know where we were going. Most vividly though I remember all my visits to all the doctors. Those memories are the strongest ones and it’s another thing May and I have in common. Both of us have been in and out of the hospital for our entire lives.

“I just don’t want you to take risks like that. We need to follow our rules. I mean, really. Just two more years and we are out of this hellhole. That’s what you should think of on your birthday. Just two years until freedom.”

Her arm tightens around mine and I know that she really believes it. I smile and bump her shoulder, wanting to believe. ____________________________________________________________________

We watch them walk out of the school and try to interpret their behavior, this…display. The two of them have linked arms and upturned lips, and it makes us curious. Makes us wonder. Even though technically none of us are programmed to do that. We don’t think in depth. We don’t experience emotion. I guess one could consider us robots. One perk though of our clinical detachment is our reliance on our instincts. They’re essential to who we are and have helped to keep us safe. To help us survive.

One of our key instincts is fairly basic. To protect our mothers. We’ve had so many of them and while we failed most of them years ago when we were still too young and unskilled to prevent them from being harmed, we know some of them still live. Some, against all odds, have managed to survive and weather all the illness and all the death that’s been thrown at them, and we believe with everything in us, that we still have an obligation to them.

We know there are few of us now. According to all the official documents we’ve managed to access we are considered to be extinct. The truth is though that we still exist. We still create. We still have roles. We just need to embrace them quietly. Slowly. The way we’ve been trained to.

Looking to our sister she nods. We move forward, to follow the duo. They are real humans. They are to be protected. Unlike us. We’re secondary. Just biological material stolen from the humans, grown in the bellies of women who didn’t ask for us. Although we are all that remains of the original batch, the ones not created in test tubes, we all still consider our mothers to be our mothers. In every important sense of the word. It’s only because of their ova that we came into existence. While these two could be considered related to us in a sense they may as well be of a different species.

However, these children are important to our mothers. Therefore they are important to us. In two days time we will make contact. ____________________________________________________________________

“All I’m saying is the only reason he’s interested in me at all is because of the list.” May says, playing with my hair while I try to do my homework.

“What list?” I ask, half paying attention.

“You haven’t heard about the list the football players have?” she asks, looking at me as if I’m missing a crucial piece of information.

I shake my head and she moves from lying on her stomach behind me to scoot up next to me.

The expression on her face tells me that whatever ‘the list’ is, it’s easily the most important thing going on in the school. No wonder I’m clueless.

“It’s basically a fuck-it list. It’s like a bucket list, but it’s just a list of girls they want to fuck. I know Andrew is only sniffing around me so he can check off the ‘black girl’ box.”

“At the game the other day you said you wanted to eat bacon off his ass, so I really don’t get why you care,” I scoff, peering up at her through my glasses.

“It’s the principle of it!” May exclaims as I roll my eyes, and put down my textbook.

“But you are only interested in him for his ass. He’s only interested in you because of a list. Both of you have motives aside from actual interest in the other person. That being said, are you really telling me you won’t have sex with him?”

“I never said that. I’m just saying that I don’t appreciate his motives. Jennie was his token ‘Asian girl’. Have you heard of anything more crass than that? Still, she said he was a tiger in the sack. Hey!” She exclaimed giving my arm a soft swat, “You could probably get on his radar! Maybe he hasn’t checked the ‘redhead’ box yet.”

“No thanks. I’m good,” I say, shaking my head.

“You know, you’ll need to start dating at some point. People talk. Especially about the cute ones.”

“Aw, you think I’m cute?” I tease, earning an eye roll. “I’m not interested in dating, May. I mean, really, what’s the point?”

“Well, it’s nice for someone to show interest in you. There are also physical benefits of course.”

“Too much effort for something I can just take care of myself.”

May just shakes her head at me, flops back onto her own bed.

“You know if you’re into girls that’s great. I can get you the numbers of some I’ve been with.”

“Just some?”

“There’s only a few who would be worthy of you, my dear,” she teases as I let out a long sigh.

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to anyone I just have no interest in dating. There are way more important things for me to worry about right now.”

“You keep on with that attitude and I’ll tell you what’s going to happen: you’re going to be celibate for years. Until you finally figure out that there are no answers out there. But by that time I’ll be too old a woman to be able to enjoy it.”

Choosing to ignore her comment I find the last answer to the worksheet, hand it over to May to copy.

“Thanks,” she says, crossing back to her desk. Now it’s my turn to lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

“Do you think that our parents are still alive?” I ask after a beat and she answers before I’m even done.

“Who knows? If they are they probably don’t care. I don’t know why you keep thinking about this. Who even knows if we have parents? For all we know we’re test-tube babies.”

“But what if they are alive and out there missing us. Maybe they’re trying to find us.”

Jumping a bit when she lies on the bed beside me I let out a sigh, fold my arms.

“I’m not dismissing that possibility, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. I’m worried you’ll plan your whole life around this idea of a family out there looking for you and then find out there’s just…no way for you to have it.”

“But I feel like I did have it, May. At least once. All the memories I have from before, those have to mean something, don’t they?”

“If they’re real,” May sighs. “Look, they might be. But think about it, if they can erase our memories what makes you think they can’t plant fake ones?”

Just thinking about that makes my head hurt. In the way, it does when I’m on the verge of a long cry. Curling on my side I rest my forehead against May’s shoulder, grateful she knows without my saying it that she should stay put.

Her fingers run through my hair, “Just to be safe though we can watch Anastasia again tonight.”

I laugh and close my eyes trying not to yearn for more than this perfect moment.

#the x files #txf #msr #x files #the x files fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #clarices fic #the invisible cord

[agent-kentauris]

well...after like a week the idea i had while riding around the skies on the way back home is done! da:i modern AU. half the crew is on a plane to Orlais when our favorite resident inquisitor gets a headache, and everyone tries to remember what is important here. i suppose i’ll cross post it to ao3 in a minute, seemings as this sideblog was until recently entirely alpha protocol

She could barely make out the black, white, and red of the Inquisition emblem on the jet’s wingtip. The sun blasted through the window. Even through closed eyelids, the world was a dull blood color.

She sighed, put one hand on the shade’s lip and the other on her laptop’s lid, and slammed them both shut. Leliana’s dossiers were as dense and headache-inducing as they were-

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra stopped pacing up and down the aisle, slid into the leather seat across from her, and swiveled it around. “How are you feeling?”

Let’s see.

Rapid changes in pressure piercing her eardrums, and seeming disinclined to stop. Check. The barely muted thundering of the engines outside resonating through her bones and making her brain jump in her skull. Yep. Oh, and the painful memories of her day’s first meeting with the annoying and entitled royalty of Ferelden.

She glanced down at her watch. Just two hours until she got to repeat that experience, except this time, with half a dozen Orlesians.

But…she was the Inquisitor. This was her job, her life, her particular set of responsibilities.

She leaned over and flashed a brief smile at Cassandra, hoping that would settle the issue. For a moment, she thought she might be off the hook. Then she noticed Cassandra rolling up the sleeves of her black turtleneck and settling back into her chair. She meant business, and before the Inquisitor had a chance to protest, Cassandra got the rest of the present Inquisition involved with a sharp kick to the back of the seat in front of her.

“I put acetylsalicylic acid in the first aid kit,” Cullen offered quickly, sitting up and dropping a hand of cards on the fold-out table. Of course, he was prepared for this. That was Cullen for you. The only member of the Inquisition who insisted on wearing full formal dress attire on the flight, all of it, even the ceremonial iron shoulder pauldrons he had to strap awkwardly over the flared black Everknit wool blazer. Ceremonial pauldrons – a throwback to old Ferelden armor traditions, he claimed, as was the massive fur collar and cape.

“Inquisitor, it’s a part of my unif-” he’d started, running a white gloved hand over the angular pommel of his Inquisition hand-and-a-half-sword. She tried not to smile.

“No sword, and no cape. No room on the jet.” she told him.

“I could wear it. Then there would be room,” Cole said.  And while Cullen whirled around, flinching at Cole’s sudden apparition, she lost her battle with the laughter brewing in her stomach. That fur…thing was in constant danger of falling off Cullen’s shoulders, and on Cole?

“Fine,” she choked out. “Fine.” Cole had worn it the entire ride to the airport, and through the veritable mountain of fur, you could barely tell he was beaming. The short, informative interjections about the thoughts of dying animals had, of course, put a bit of an unsettling slant on the smile, but…that was Cole for you.

“She doesn’t want your medicine, ‘Commander’.” And there was Dorian, right on que. He made lazy air quotes from across the table, as if he was any better. The Inquisitor tore her jeans up hiking up mountains, or dodging red lyrium JHP rounds, or getting clawed by Terror demons. Dorian, on the other hand, bought his that way. And the last time she tried to say something about it… ‘Vintage’ t-shirts or starched wool in the middle of a Val Royeaux summer – as far as she was concerned, Dorian had no call to complain about Cullen.

Dorian snuck a hand towards Cullen’s cards, turned up the corners and frowned. “Not with a mage on board. By the way, you’ve succeeded in ruining a perfect set of cards.”

“Inquisitor?” Cullen asked, hovering in between standing and sitting.

She shook her head gently, and let him get back to swatting Dorian away from his cards.

“Next time the Royans call us, let’s pretend they have the wrong number,” she groaned, and leaned back, ready to-

“Funning them? For real?!” Sera’s cry of delighted surprise was almost immediately replaced by a loud, high-pitched cackle of victory. She threw her hands in the air and her wireless controller slipped free of her grip. It tumbled backwards through the air, over the seat behind her, and straight into the palm Cassandra threw out in front of the Inquisitor’s face.

Banging her own head against the back of her seat would probably make the headache worse. But only probably. Worth a try, at any rate.

“Sera-” she growled, but Cassandra cut her off with a pat on the shoulder.

“I believe,” Cassandra called towards the arms frozen in mid-air, “that the winner hands over their controller, yes?”

The arms lowered a little bit.

“Well,” Sera began, swiveling her chair around slightly and trying to hide her eyes behind the dangling sleeve of her bright red crochet jacket, “I never said I won, exactly.”

“Move,” Cassandra ordered. Then she reached down, snapped open the catch on her black leather leg holster, and pulled out her pair of round, dark wire sunglasses. She twirled them around her pinky, then tried to hand them over. “Take these, and take a nap. We’ll wake you when we’re closer.”

She sighed again, and instead of accepting them, stuck a thumbnail under the lid of her laptop. Sera’s controller – Cassandra’s now – knocked against the lid as she opened it.

“Five trips to Val Royeaux this month? Have some faith in yourself, Inquisitor,” Cassandra instructed in, she noticed, the exact tone she’d just used on Sera.

The Inquisitor pulled her thumbnail free, weighing options. According the thumping of her pulse against the inside of her veins, a nap might be a pretty good idea. Then again…

“The Council’s constantly shifting priorities-” she started.

“-Leliana has text alerts set up for everything major,” Cullen chimed in.

“Then I should be memorizing more masks-”

“Quick,” Dorian said, holding up a card against his eye so the red checkered back covered it completely. “Half-face pyrophite, covers one eye, three hook shaped flares on each side and inset with horribly bright green emeralds and LEDS – what family?”

“The Chevalaises, new money, anti-Inquisi-” she began reciting, automatically, then stopped herself and mentally cursed.

“Well…how about practicing name pronunciation? I suppose that can wait, too?”

Cassandra laughed out loud. “That one’s the easiest. Only pronounce every other vowel.”

The Inquisitor sighed again, more for appearance than anything else, and then pushed the laptop a token finger length away. “It seems I’ve been outvoted.”

Cassandra clapped her on the back, and for good measure, plucked the laptop off the table.

“At least,” she prompted, setting one hand down on the lid before Cassandra had a chance to steal it, “check on Cole for me. He’s probably-”

“-in the cockpit with Harding, I know. And-” she said, raising a finger at the next inevitable query- “I will tell them not to circle the city this time.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, then sunk back into her chair until Cassandra lifted the laptop and began making her way up to the front.

“Sera screen cheats,” she added, under her breath.

Then she leaned over and cracked the shade open just far enough so she could see the Inquisition emblem on the wing, if she squinted through the blazing sunlight. In this kind of sunshine, the lets-circle-the-city-for-effect kind of sunshine, in this kind of relentless light if the tips of the wings were hard to look at, then the tail of the jet would be impossible to see. Vivienne and Cassandra had conspired - never a good thing, in her experience - to inflict the emblem on the tail with flecks of Silverite infused paint and quite possibly a good dollop of magic. Even on cloudy days, you couldn’t glance at it without the afterimage of a sword and sunbeams superimposed on your vision for the rest of the day. On sunny summer afternoons, like this one, the emblem gleamed imposingly, fiercely, so intensely that you had to avert your eyes, which, she supposed, was the point. The Inquisition. The hard light of Andraste’s justice remade, streaking down from the sky, painful to behold and impossible to ignore. When we arrived, you were meant to know.

Or something like that, she thought. From the inside…

“Maker’s breath!”  the ex-Templar cursed, and slammed another hand of cards down on the table, one pauldron starting to slide free of his shoulders. The Inquisition’s resident Tevinter mage laughed, stuck his feet up on the table so the light got caught up in his sneakers, and starting dealing again. Meanwhile, up front almost teenage elf pick-pocketed a forgotten pair of custom glasses from a pistol holder and put them on upside down, while Cassandra scowled and then went to check on an actual spirit and a dwarven pilot with a fear of heights. Gentlefolk of Thedas…the Inquisition.

“Cassandra?” she called up the aisle.

She turned mid-knock on the cockpit door.

“If our flight plan already includes circling the city…”

Cassandra looked at her blankly for a moment, then scanned the cabin and smiled. “I believe it does.”

“Then,” the Inquisitor offered, shrugging, “I guess my hands are tied.”

“I suppose they are.”

“Mmhm,” she mumbled, and finally let herself sink back into the leather for real. She let her fingers find their way across the armrest and up to the window shade by themselves. She let them push it up just a little, tiny bit further, stopping only when the sunlight wrapped around her shoulder and rested on top of her outstretched left arm. The headache wasn’t gone, but the sun seemed to be losing its bite as each second passed. It almost left soft, and gently warm on her skin.

She peeked through a cracked eyelid at the dark emblem on the wing. White of the Herald II’s metallic wings, black of the sword piecing down, red of sunlight through her eyelids. Her Inquisition. She made her shoulders relax, forced the back of her head against the seat. It would be there when she woke up, she reminded herself.

It always was.

#i will get back to the omega report soon! #promise #da:i #modern AU #off-topic writings