#last time it took six years to get my ID renewed

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

I am pretty sure I'm not trans. Like, I check every few months, usually around the time a doctor gets weird about my genes. I do, however, also regularly consider removing the gender marker from my ID, even though it would seriously limit my ability to travel unhindered.

I am a woman. I like being a woman. Most of the times in my life I thought I hated my gender were related to fashion, but it turns out sewing machines can be laughably cheap and no one can force you to wear dusty pink to your cousin's wedding once you make your own money.

I just detest that a little letter on a little chip on a little card carries so many exhausting expectations. And changing it to "the" other one would only replace those expectations with the same thing in a slightly different color.

So once or twice a month, I play with the idea of just erasing it and making where I fit in statistics and what room I should pick a cubicle in to change into swimwear in and what random ass word should precede my name someone else's problem. Let the people who care figure it out, because I'm quite honestly exhausted with it all.

It would almost be worth the pain of getting all my ID updated. Almost.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this essay from David Sassoon, founder, editor and publisher of Inside Climate News:

Two visits to this wildlife sanctuary.  One week apart. I came to report the arrival of spring, an under-covered story. In the hope, too, that the new season might extinguish the fire in my brain, ablaze in the Anthropocene: The accelerating heat with its cascading catastrophes; the barbaric wars with their crimes against humanity; scorching hatreds shared instantly everywhere. Our raging modern inferno. 

And yet, we are in the midpoint of a great annual renewal, marked by the seasonal migration of creatures beyond number flying their way north. Might the incessant flapping of billions of pairs of wings cool down the hemisphere? Surely birdsong is balm for our blisters and burns? I went looking for remedy with little idea of what I was soon to witness.

It turned out not to be the birds. You can hear them, but they’re hard to see. Sure, I had an adequate pair of binoculars with me, and a bird ID app on my phone. Hopeless tools for an earthbound biped like me. My naked ears were far more useful. They could hear a woodpecker knocking into a distant tree. Mourning doves cooing in a branch above. An unseen swallow buzzing past my scalp. Blackbirds shrieking among the tall phragmites. Though it was daytime, an owl hooted, and a bullfrog seemed to answer. A paddling mallard provoked the obnoxious honking of a pair of rowdy geese. Only two of them, so damn loud. My notes also say: Fiddleheads. Bees. Chipmunks. Flash of orange. (In retrospect, likely an oriole.) 

I was grasping one thing at a time, cataloging the natural order—an outsider to it. What if I tried to listen to everything at once? It took repeated effort to gain fleeting entry into a parallel  world that wasn’t mine. A fluid orchestra of countless musicians perfectly riffing. The forest multi-tonal. Deciduous jazz. Not a single bad seat in the house. The debut of an up-tempo composition I’ll call How many dialects of warbler can the robin understand? Never to be played again.

What became apparent is that I don’t speak nature. The other sapiens I encountered didn’t seem to, either. A wholesome church group of well-dressed young adults. A guy in a baseball cap effusive about sighting a beaver. A teenager in pants striped red and white sporting a nose ring. All of us of such varied plumage yet belonging to a single species. 

To us it was Saturday morning. How laughable. I had arrived at nine—much too late to get the worm—and now, after a few hours as I began walking out, I turned my gaze upwards. I saw the architecture of tree branches; bud break of leaves; the sky. Oh! The bird realm! The aerial kingdom! I would need to return to see it in a new light.

My neighbor remembers when she was a young girl, the birds were so loud in the early morning that to sleep she’d have to plug her ears. We didn’t realize how much things were changing around us over the last half century. The human population was doubling from four to eight billion. On the other hand, the population of breeding birds was declining by three billion, a 30 percent drop—in North America alone. 

The last time birds had it so bad might have been when an asteroid six or nine miles wide slammed into the Earth, eons before hominids first walked upright. With two hundred million years of evolutionary history in their bones, birds are confronting a relatively instantaneous collective demise at our hands. 

We’ve been hearing these dire warnings for many years, yet the environmental carnage continues unabated. It’s part of what science calls biodiversity loss, the path we’ve trod in the Anthropocene, with its thousandfold increase in extinctions. We have no shame. 

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: brat Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu  Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: you finally see Miya Atsumu after six years, meanwhile, he feels pain when he realizes that you settled down with someone else that wasn’t him. notes: i um want to thank yall for supporting this story im- crying T-T I’m happy to inform everyone that i’ll be updating this twice a week every monday and saturday! yay!!! i was able to finish editing and im writing the last two chapters now. stay safe and big love to each and everyone of you <3

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“...Uh, Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, I thought you guys weren’t allowed to go.” Sugawara laughed nervously, knowing all too well where this would lead. He’s familiar with over-enthusiastic boys, in fact, one of those over-enthusiastic balls of sunshine was here right now entertaining them.

“K-Kaasan says it’s alright.” Yuuto lies but Sugawara quirked his brow, it was so obvious that he was lying.

“Yep, she did!” Youta grins, trying to help his twin but like him, he’s failing drastically.

“Then you won’t mind if I call your okaasa-”

“No!” Youta and Yuuto yell in unison. This made other people turn their way, Miya Atsumu watched the pair in amusement from afar. He noticed that they were late and that Sugawara had caught on to their scheme of joining in even without the parental consent, “We won’t join!” Youta proclaims, “Right, yu? W-We’ll pick up balls!”

Hinata feels his eyes glimmer at those words and decides to help them convince Sugawara but in the end, the twins were forced to be benched while the grey-haired teacher had to go back to the faculty to call you.

“It’s alright,” Hinata ruffles both their hairs, “We’ll try to come back next time and I’ll be sure to help convince your ‘kaasan.”

“Hey don’t plant false ideas in their head, Shoyou.” Atsumu grins, lazily jogging to their side. He directs his gaze to the twins that seem to oddly remind him of him and ‘samu when they were younger. The boy's gaze lingered a bit too long on him,unlike other kids who stared at him in awe, these ones were seething, “What are ya lookin’ at, kid?”

“Wow,you’re as mean as your brother.” Yuuto notes, eyeing him up and down. 

“Yeah.” Youta echoes.

Atsumu quirks a brow, this was quite the new reaction. Never in his life had a kid told him that he was mean as ‘Samu also how did they even know his twin brother?

“Now, now, don’t you think you should cut me some slack?” Atsumu tried to jokebut the twins remained unamused by the blonde’s antics, somehow Atsumu felt a sense of familiarity from their monotonous reactions.

“No thanks.” Yuuto crossed his arms, “The fake Atsumu made ‘kaasan cry and since you look like him, you might make ‘kaasan cry too.”

“What he said!” Youta agreed loudly, copying his older brother’s action.

Atsumu was just plain confused now, he admitted that Osamu had an attitude sometimes when he was annoyed but letting a mom cry in front of her kids? That’s definitely new and not-so ‘samu like (after all, he was apparently the nicer one between them)

“What’s the name of your okaasan-”

“Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, Your mom will be picking you up at the gate! Please go there now.” Sugawara cuts him off, Youta and Yuuto stand up and eye him for a bit.

“We’ll defeat you and your brother! Just wait and see, we’ll be as big as you and that other jiji!” Yuuto exclaims and before Atsumu could retaliate, they’re running off to the opposite direction. Hinata was laughing beside him, clutching his sides because apparently he was too petty while Sugawara looked at him with an apologetic expression.

“I wonder why L/N-san didn’t allow them to go, she’s usually very supportive of their hobbies, especially volleyball.” Sugawara frowns, suddenly voicing out his thoughts. Atsumu felt his shoulders stiffen at the sound of that familiar name. 

Osamu revealed he saw you last week then these kids suddenly confessed that his twin made their okaasan cry, he’s never seen you cry throughout your relationship (save for that night when you first me but you guys weren't together yet so that didn’t count). Maybe he was mistaken? it might be your relative or a common name.

After all, you were clear about not wanting a family.

“You know their mom well?” Hinata inquired,  Atsumu seems to be listening closely now, wanting to confirm if the person that Sugawara was talking about is you.

“Oh yeah, we're around the same age so I’m much closer to her than the other moms.” Sugawara blinks, “Those boys have to listen to their okaasan more. She’s raising them on her own since their dad died before he even got to know that L/N-san was pregnant. She seemed to be longing for him whenever he’s mentioned.”

A crease appeared on the blonde's forehead as he was suddenly in deep thought. It couldn’t be, right?

“Uh, Sugawara-san, may I know the name of the mom? Her last name sounds kind of familiar.” he questions, pretending to be nonchalant but inside, he feels like he had his heart on his throat.

If it was you, he’d feel those things that he desperately tried to hide behind his confident jokes and laughs. 

The pain.

The pain that you chose someone else and was open enough to the idea of starting a family. If that guy probably hadn’t died, you’d be together, happily raising those boys he had just met a while ago. Happily married, something that Atsumu tried to mention one fleeting moment while you were together back in college but you immediately shut the idea down and left him a month later.

The pain that you fell in love in a span of moments unlike Atsumu who relentlessly tried to gain your favour and follow you around like a lost puppy.

“Oh, her name’s Y/N L/N.”

Thankfully nothing unexpected happened after what the twins did, they ended up having to pick if they wanted their video game rights removed for a week or cancel their plans with their favorite ojisan who was coming by a few weeks from now, they chose the first one on that.

They had even mentioned that they met the real Miya Atsumu and although you felt like your heart lurched out of your chest and your shoulders stiffen at the mention of that man --- their father---  they simply had called him a rude jiji like his brother much to your relief.

“L/N-san, we seem to have a problem.” Aiko frowned, handing the papers to you, “The director of the advertisement department wants a bigger budget, do you mind running it through him again? You have to go to the studio though, I heard they’re doing some photo shoot now.”

You nodded in reply, taking the papers from your co-worker. The studio was a bit far so you ended up having to commute to get there, “What a nuisance.” You muttered, you needed to buy a second-hand car soon when you had enough money. It would definitely be easier for both you and the boys, “Uh excuse me? Is Nakamura-san here?” you asked the secretary on the front desk.

“And who are you?” the secretary snapped back, still typing away on her computer.

“Y/N L/N from the finance department, I have to run through the new budget liquidation with him.”

The secretary one-eyes you and the ID on your neck for a split second, “You better be quick, the boss wants only five minutes per guest since he’s personally handling the shoot today.” was all she replied, handing you the pass. You muttered a quick thank you and made your way up to the studio, whoever the model was today, they must’ve been big for Nakamura to handle them personally.

“Oh-ho, is that who I think it is?” a very, very familiar voice calls out.

“Inunaki-san.” You greeted, trying to maintain yourself, were these the big clients that Nakamura was handling? The black jackals? good fucking gracious, god must hate you.

“Wow,” he shakes his head, feigning amusement, “You’re still so calm and cool.”

You narrowed your eyes at the insult but you waved it off, “And you’re playing for a national team, congratulations.” you replied in a blank tone, your senior probably knew what happened between you and his fellow member. You wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he reacted the same way as Osamu did.

“We’re actually doing a shoot now, would you like me to call Atsu-”

“No.” your usual calm tone switched to a colder one, “I’m working now and so is Miya-san, please don’t bother yourself.”

“Gee,” he raised his hands, signalling defeat, “Just say you don’t want to see him. You don’t need to be so cold to me, my dear little kohai.”

“I have to go back to my job, I’m on the clock here.” You ignored his previous statement, “It was nice seeing you again Inunaki-san.”

Before you could give him a chance to reply, you headed towards the studio. You took a deep breath and mentally calculated to three.

one. 

It’s been six years, Miya Atsumu would ignore you. He wouldn’t care about the girl who left him out to dry in college. He’s got a girlfriend now, a model who has legs for days and looks ten times better than you and acts more like a girlfriend than you ever did.

two.

Yes, that’s right, he wouldn’t care.

three.

You entered the studio, you could feel the air tighten around you as soon as you heard that laughter. The one you used to hear everyday and never get tired of. For all the laughs you couldn’t do, he’d do it for you and boy, was he patient around you since you didn’t smile a lot back then (who were you kidding? until now you still had the same problem except when the kids were around)

You want to stop and stare, you want to admire him and his glory that you were very much proud of.

Yet your legs continue to carry you to your boss, the laughter seems to have ceased and you could hear someone asking him what was wrong.

“Oh, L/N-san?” Nakamura greeted you, “You’re here for the renewal of the budget?”

You nodded feverishly, your legs seem to be turning into jelly because you want to collapse from the nervousness and thank god that you wore some make-up before arriving here, otherwise, they would’ve noticed how pale you looked, “Everything seems to be in order,” He nods, scanning the sheets and handing them back to you, “Are you busy right now?”

You glanced at the wall clock, checking the time to see if you could extend your stay and Nakamura is quick to pick up on it, “Ah right, you’ve got kids to pick up. It’ll be quick, just help set up the blocks there and you’re free to leave.” he orders.

You nodded obediently and slowly turned to the side only to catch the very familiar chocolate brown eyes of the blonde. You feel your heart hammering in your chest and your feet turn cold, it had been six years since you last saw Miya Atsumu and he was still as winsome and exhilarating as he was back then.

You may have seen him a lot on television but seeing him, right here, a few feet away from you was different. Taking in a big gulp of air, you started working on the set-up as quickly as you could yet you could still feel his burning gaze remaining on you, “Tsum-tsum, lay off her will you.” came Inunaki Shion’s loud voice snaps him out of his daze.

Great, that little twat had to make an appearance.

“Y/N-san you should really say hi,” Inunaki teased as soon as you finish your set-up.

“Oh? You’re Y/N L/N?” the orange one gushed, quickly up on his feet, you recall him as Hinata Shoyou, Youta’s favorite orange-haired ninja, “Sugawara-san’s friend?” 

You hesitantly nodded, “Oh, you know her Sho-kun?” Shion asked, seemingly amused by it all.

“What are you all crowding here for, Hinata?” Another asked, peering in them closely. This one must’ve been Bokuto, another favorite of Yuuto.

“Sugawara-san’s friend! she’s the mother of those two boys in the training camp who had to go home early!” he suddenly turns to you and then grins, “Ne, ne, the boys really seem to want to attend one of those. Why don’t you allow them to join us-”

“Forget it, Hinata.” Atsumu suddenly speaks out, that warm voice that you were accustomed to seemed cold and menacing now, “She won’t allow it.”

Shion notices the tension between you two and when he’s about to usher the energetic duo away back to the dressing room along with the other members, you let out a quiet sigh and spoke out, “I was on my way to leave, please don’t bother yourselves.” You simply replied, you didn’t waver and stared at him dead in the eye, this could be the moment to end it all and cut ties with him officially, “I apologize for what I did back then, Miya-san. I should’ve told it to you in person. I offer my sincere congratulations to you for making it this far.”

The blonde clenched his jaw, it seemed like he wanted to say something to you yet when he realizes the usual calm and collected demeanor you're putting up, he decides against it and leaves you alone by storming away first.

Hinata and the guy named Bokuto looked at you --- completely puzzled and lost like a deer in the headlights --- before following the blonde, “You truly are in a whole ‘nuther level, Y/N.” Shion whistles, “Heard you’ve got two boys now though. Congrats, where's the poor bastard?”

You continue to watch the back of Atsumu Miya. Finally, it seemed like he’d left you alone and probably for good this time, “Gone, off to a better place.” was all you replied.

Inunaki notices the longing in your voice, a completely unfamiliar emotion he had never seen back then even when you and Atsumu were together. It seemed like you and Atsumu were both the poor bastards in the end.

Miya Atsumu sleeps alone that night.

He doesn’t call his girlfriend back despite the several missed calls, he doesn’t reply to the unanswered text of his brother and his teammates. All he feels is pain tonight, pain because of your very dry apology, pain because of your bland expression. Pain because you didn’t seem to care like that time six years ago.

He shuts his eyes tight and he feels as if he’s back in college, back to that winter night where he received that dreaded phone call from you after you disappeared from him. He remembered those days clearly, your apartment had been cleaned out and paid for, you weren’t answering him on social media, your phone line was also unresponsive and he couldn’t even call your family since you never mentioned anything about them at all.

You both may have been intimate for the past two years but when you disappeared, he had the frightening realization that he didn’t know you at all.

He didn’t want to push you out of your comfort zone, he wanted you to lead the relationship but right at that moment, he wished he pried just a bit since he was worried about you.

Then in the midst of his anxiety, it came, that phone call.

“Atsumu.” your usual calm voice filled his ears and he suddenly feels the weight of the world is removed from his shoulders, thank god you were okay.

“Y/N? Baby? Where are you?”

“Out.”

“Where outside exactly?” Miya Atsumu dryly asks, “It’s cold, you shouldn’t be out now and wandering about. Would you like me to pick you up-”

“I can’t do this anymore.” you suddenly cut him off and the line goes quiet. The blonde feels the world around him quiet down too when he hears those words that he wished he heard wrong.

“What’s, what’s wrong? Y/N, are you alright?” 

“I don’t know,” You mutter, “I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what exactly?”

“Of you, of us…”

“Y/N, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

“Yes.” Your voice remained dead calm as if you just hadn’t broken his heart in a million pieces that moment, “Let’s stop this here now, Atsumu. Let’s break-up.”

“That’s…” He tries to keep the mood light, praying that this is one of your dark jokes, “That’s not funny, Y/N.”

“It’s not supposed to be since it’s not a joke.”

Your response was curt as usual and he doesn’t know whats worse, the fact that you’re breaking up over the phone or the fact that your tone remains stable and the same.

“Y/N, don’t do this...Baby don’t do this over the phone.” His tone seemed desperate at this point, “I’m not stopping this until you tell me what's wrong between us, you have to give me something to work with Y/N. Is it something I did?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ya don’t know?” Atsumu started to raise his tone when he notices how unaffected you seem at the other line.Frustration slowly started to bubble in him, the accent turning thicker as he got angrier, “Y/N ya can’t just disappear out of the blue and call me one day and tell me you want to break up! Do you think I’m some sort of fling? Some one-night stand or fuck buddies? We’ve been together for two years, Y/N. Two whole fucking years, What’s wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”

“Yes.”

The line went dead silent again and he hates it, he doesn’t know what to say as his face contorts in sadness and confusion. 

“I don’t…” He starts to feel a lump grow on his throat when he hears how easy it was for you to say, he knew he was in love with you more than you were with him. Many had pointed out how dangerous and how painful it would be on his side in the end, he couldn’t believe it would hurt him this much, “ I don’t fucking believe you, say it right at my face. Where the hell are ya? Let’s talk this one out in person.”

“Don’t bother, I just don’t want to see you again.”

“Y/N you can’t just-”

“I can and I will.” You cut him off, your voice was growing more and more detached and he feels like he’s back to that moment two years ago where you didn’t spare him a glance and treated him like a scrub, he hears a hefty sigh on your side and the next few words is another bullet to his heart, “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Atsumu.”

“You…” he shakily replied, trying to mask his grief with a painful chuckle. He wants to be mad at you, he wants to yell at you but for some odd reason, he couldn’t bring himself to,  “Jesus christ, you really are something, Y/N. You just broke my heart over the the fucking phone and all you could do is say sorry?”

“Sorry.” you say, like a broken-record on repeat and he hates it. He hates how he feels like this was nothing for you.

“Don’t you dare say that again when you don’t mean it-” He spat and before he could finish what he had to say, the phone line went dead. He tried to call again but it seemed like you had used a payphone. Out of complete vexation, he hurls his phone right across the room towards the blue photo frame with the both of you in it.

The sound of broken glass shards and ragged breathing is the only thing heard in the quiet apartment.

It’s not even the peak of winter that night yet he feels so numb and cold.

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi​ ;  @svtbitch ; @ryaaaax ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan​ ; @Etherynaw ; @volleybloop​ ; @imcravingyou​ ;

[violetsystems]

#personal

The holidays are quiet if not a little more restful than usual.  I facetime’d my dad and his wife and talked to my mom on the phone.  Since I left my job way back in July I haven’t had much video contact with anybody.  Everybody is too busy baking banana bread on YouTube I guess to check in.  The final days of my employment had devolved into a virtual SCRUM twice a day led by myself on camera.  It was exhausting at times to lead but kept people focused.  That is when they bothered to show up.  One of my employees was off making music with my boss half the time I was trying to lead those discussions.  I’m beginning to sense a theme.  People saying they are there but not really.  Maybe the mic is muted.  Maybe you can’t see behind the screen.  All I know is the follow through lately with people is missing entirely.  I spent a good hour the last two days trying to decouple a credit card from my old job’s contact info.  I’m locked out of both the phone number and the email attached to the account.  I got the run around trying to provide a US passport to confirm my identity.  It was good enough to enter China alone.  The first call that ID was sufficient.  They had said they sent an email to follow through with the process to two different emails I provided.  The email never came most likely because neither had been tied to the account previously.  I called back on Christmas eve and suddenly the passport wasn’t good enough.  Neither was an expired driver’s license.  The woman actually asked me why I hadn’t renewed my driver’s license.  I told the truth.  My ex girlfriend stole my car.  That didn’t really help the situation.  I sent a passport photo to unlock my facebook but they never followed through.   I had an easier time unlocking my Fortnite account with it although that took a full week.  I ended having to call the police on Christmas eve to explore filing a report for fraud and identity theft.  The police officer on the phone pretty much gaslighted me at the end of the questioning.  “Nothing criminal.” he stated plainly.  I didn’t get mad.  I didn’t even complain.  I simply said Happy Holidays and hung up.  Much like I’ve hung up on the last twenty years of my life at this point.  Nobody seems to want to answer the video call.  The opening introduction if they did would be something like “What exactly have you done with my life?”  Maybe they’re afraid to confront the truth.  The media, the government, and even the police seem to not want to believe evidence that contradicts their narrative.  I guess you could throw up your hands and revolt.  But the holidays have been peaceful and quiet enough to simply roll my eyes and move on.  I’ve had years of failures to connect.  COVID has taught me a lot of things.  I heard the mantra in all the mandatory corporate webinars.  This pandemic has brought to light structural problems we were never aware of before.  Sexual harassment in the workplace.  Check.  Organizational corruption.  Check.  The fact everybody is full of bullshit and will just mute the mic and pretend it never happened.  Check.  People feel invincible behind a screen and think they know it all.  Check.  Now that we’re aware.  What do we do?  How do we move on with our life now that we have all this space?  How do I even care about participating in a broken process when I have no debt and fiscal maturity?  How can I go back to being the old me when I’ve been completely erased and conveniently forgot about?  Why would I even bother?  

Mostly I take the time with this process to make sure my identity is completely secure.  Which is why it’s not really fun to be locked out of twenty years of your own information in the form of an email account and forgotten about for six months.  But this is just the structural reality come to light.  Much like the rest of America is waking up to the reality of what greed really does to people.  That was my Christmas present this year aside from the coffee that never came and that Cyberpunk game that I don’t really have the time or the subpar computer setup to criticize.  I’m guilty of tricking myself into thinking people care about me.  I have statistical data from the last six months that proves otherwise.  I also have financial data that points to whatever hustle I have been hustling during that time has paid off and will continue to.  But I don’t really have an answer to anything.  I’m in the worst kind of limbo.  I don’t get the sense these days that I should even remotely worry until July.  Which is kind of like saying fuck you to the world for the next six months.  I spent the last six waking up from a nightmare.  The only times I look back is to clean up the mess.  And a Christmas Eve call to the police is kind of messy.  But the result is more of the same for me.  An extravagant “I told you so.”  I’ve been telling myself for awhile now a lot of things.  Some of them were kind of unbelievable.  Now those very dreams are all I really take comfort in.  The limbo I’m in is more pointed to the light at the end of the tunnel than the void.  But I can’t say the same for everybody else.  I work for myself for the time being.  It looks really nice on paper.  I can even pay myself if it fits into my organization’s financial outlook.  But none of this matters when you or your struggles don’t even exist to people other than to mock or judge it.  All the work we do to survive.  All the work we do to create art and to be beautiful in the face of chaos.  All of that is negated by a loud mouthed jerk who can bark you back into submission.  A mob of dumb ass fraudsters that talk over and mute any opposition without any warrant or merit.  The press follows this mentality pretty clearly.  Everybody has a hot take and a theory.   But nobody wants to sit down and listen to the culmination of lies spread about people and situations.  Everyone is too emotionally interested in sharing their recipe for banana bread to an invisible audience.  I guess I could be guilty of that too.  Except that I share actual human emotion and care with a community of people who pay attention week to week.  For a person like myself who has no real need to worry about money for the foreseeable future what’s the value of care and attention?  A lot.  I don’t feed myself with vapor or fake sentiments.  I take it all at base level as real as it gets.  You can’t build a future on speculation.  You can technically if you are in the stock market.  But risk is risk.  And money is money.  No one can be me at the end of the day.  Sometimes I can’t even prove I’m myself.  My mom reminded me I had to provide ten pieces of documentation to renew my passport ten years ago.  The reasoning was simple.  The government did not believe I existed.  No bullshit.  A decade later nothing really has changed.  I’ve been to Shanghai by myself and eaten McDonald’s.  I read all these Republicans talk about how you put your identity at risk just setting foot in that country.  

And yet when does the rhetoric and brainwashing fall flat on it’s face?  When you can’t pass economic stimulus to not only save your own people but the fragile stock market all this bullshit is built upon.  I could keep telling you I told you so.  Or I could save my own ass.  And largely I did without really owing much to this country whatsoever except taxes in Q1.  Taxes billionaires don’t have to pay because they offer us so much relevant employment and benefits that fit on their bottom line.  The real truth is that America would rather not face the truth.  It hasn’t for years.  It’s built on this kind of thing.  It always has been.  And the world gets bigger and the excuses get worse.  And so what does anyone expect a person like me to do after you openly admit that there’s nothing criminal going on here.  How does that sound when you’ve been treated openly like a criminal in so many unsettling ways that you just don’t want to participate in society anymore?  Not that anyone really asks me to participate.  They’re too busy signaling or whispering secret messages.  Is it suggestion or valid communication?  I’m the one that has to shift through it all and detangle the mess from what is real and what is some sort of mass hallucination.  An alternate reality hunger game that the rich have been playing for years without any punishment or oversight.  When you get caught up in the crossfire they expect you to know the drill.  Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.  None of this is good for me.  You could argue it made me the beast that I am.  But I am the one who had to actively make that choice to adapt and survive.  But I’m not like any normal person these days.  I refuse to admit it anymore.  They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.  I have a problem.  One that it seems I cannot fix.  And if you isolate and quarantine yourself from an entire twenty years of nostalgia what is left?  Where are the texts of merry xmas from yesteryear.  Probably pinging my old work number.  I can’t access my facebook.  Maybe that’s for the best.  I can’t shut down lines of credit until I renew my state ID.  I could jump on a plane and visit Shanghai Disney quicker than I could prove I’m alive to the US government.  And when does the constant gaslighting break down?  When do we realize that people gaslight to cover up an elaborate lie that has gotten out of control.  That we are not all in this together.  Not by a longshot.  That the problem of connectedness is right there in front of our faces.  We’re exhausted propping up entire infrastructures that keep a bloated empire alive.  Family fortunes built on opioids and war strewn out across the landscape in trusts and elaborate tax schemes.  Oligarchs that have generational wealth that buy our politicians and scam people into debt and forced labor.  This is America.  This is the systemic problem the pandemic brought to light.  This shit was built this way.  And like any fort constructed with shaky foundations, good luck hiding from the storm in that shit.  At least I can still access my Epic account.  What am I going to do for the next six months?  Complain about something I can’t fix because everybody wants to consider me part of the problem?  I don’t know what to do anymore except move forward and lead by example.  There’s enough quality people who follow to keep me warm with those thoughts through the holidays alone.  I won’t be drunk on a zoom call.  I’ll be in bed watching Wonder Woman or something.  When everyone you worshipped comes out of this looking fake, tired and exhausted you’ll know where to find me.  Unlocking more accounts tied to an identity that doesn’t exist anymore.  Nothing criminal.  Hopefully people will stop treating me like one eventually.  <3 Tim

[awkward-radar-tech]

Kylo Ren, The Rising Star

Summary: You are Kylo Ren’s personal assistant. The rising star doesn’t know how to cope with his sudden popularity. You let him take sanctuary in your apartment, and help him return to who he was before, Ben Solo.

A/N: I’m stating this now, no romantic relationship blooms in this. But, the seeds are planted. And I will write more where the relationship does grow, if requested.

Prompt, from an anon:  But I got an idea, how about worn out actor Kylo Ren aka Ben Solo has been doing to much lately he doesn't even know what time zone he's in sometimes. Reader is average Joe lucky enough to be his PA in his new film. With the stress of everything and fans following him everywhere Ben hides out at your house, were he sleeps all day in your bed and you feed him lots of food, cos you like to cook?

Chapter 2

🌟🌟🌟

You didn’t know what you were getting into when you applied to be an assistant for a local movie shoot. But being the new personal assistant to the biggest rising star was not it at all. And you weren’t always local like you expected. Being Kylo Ren’s PA meant you had to go with him on his other press tours during breaks in shooting. Caffeinated anything had become your friend, and today was one where you were dependant. You had jumped across every American time zone in a day and a half, and now you had crossed the Atlantic, only to turn around in twelve hours and fly home.

You checked your watch and went to knock on Kylo’s dressing room door, “Twenty minutes until you’re on, sir. Do you need anything else?”

He opened the door, still in the t shirt and jeans he wore on the plane, “I just have one question, where are we?” 

You looked at him, concerned, “We are in London, sir. You’re doing an interview for ‘the rom-com’ right now. Your suit should be hanging up for you.”

He yawned, “I told you to call me Kylo, not sir. And it is there. Could you step in real quick?”

You nodded and waited for him to step aside, following him inside, “Sorry, Kylo. So used to using sir. Now, what do you need?” 

He closed the door and sat on the couch, “First, no need to apologize. Second, can I have a caffeine pill?”

You pulled out a packet from your bag and handed it to him, “You can hold onto these. But, uhh, Kylo, you didn’t need to ask me in here for that. Nobody cares how you stay awake.”

He hummed, “Thank you, (y/n),” he quickly took a pill, “and that isn’t why I asked you in here. I have an unconventional request, that nobody can know about.”

“Yes?”

“This movie, people are going crazy over it. They have surrounded my building at home, waiting for my return apparently. It is exhausting having to go through all these people, some have even found ways inside my building and to my door. I need a break. Could I stay at your place? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Kylo, sir, I live in a run down apartment. You wouldn’t want to stay there. And my couch is only a bit longer than this one, you wouldn't sleep very well."

"I'd much rather stay there than possibly anger fans. Please, think about it."

You gave him a pointed look and checked your watch, “Fifteen minutes, Kylo. Now get changed.”

You left the room, closing the door. Kylo was, but also wasn’t, your boss, and he was asking to stay at your place? He had bodyguards, couldn’t they tell the fans to leave? No, he cared too much about his fans’ feelings to have them told to leave. Maybe you would let him stay. Once back he was off for a week, so he wouldn’t have to leave. It would be fun to hang out with somebody for once, even if it was the person you worked for.

The interview went well, and before long you were being taken to a hotel for the night. 

You followed Kylo outside to the car and he looked at you once inside, “Woah… It is already night?”

You nodded, “Yeah, it is almost eight. I think we are here for like ten hours then we head home to rest for a week.”

As you pulled up at the hotel, there were clearly a bunch of fans waiting for him, and you heard a muttered “shit.”

You looked at him, “When we get home, you can stay at my place, okay?”

He smiled wide for once in his life, “Thank you, so much, (y/n). I’ll give you a bonus.”

You shook your head, “We’ll talk about it later. I don’t want any extra money. Think of it as a kind gesture from a friend.”

The door was opened and Kylo was escorted into the building. You stayed in until the car parked before grabbing your own stuff and going up to your room; there were shrieks from girls, obviously he decided to stop and talk. You went up to your room and got ready for a bit of sleep. 

As you washed your face you heard your phone ringing in the other room. When you went out to check it, you read it was Kylo calling, so quickly answered it.

“How can I help you, Kylo?”

“What time do I have to be ready by? Need to set my alarm.”

“Six. Hopefully the crazies won’t be awake then.”

He groaned, “Hopefully. Thank you. Goodnight, (y/n).”

“Goodnight, Kylo. Text me in the morning so I know you’re awake please.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and hung up. 

In the morning he clearly hadn’t slept much, or well, he was a living zombie in a somehow oversized sweatshirt, clutching to a cup of coffee.

He looked at you in the hallway, “Oh, I forgot to ask if you wanted a cup. Security brought it up to me. They said everybody left at like 2 am, so the coast is clear.”

You gave him a warm smile, “It is alright, Kylo. I’m fine. Let’s head down to the car then.”

You thankfully got to the airport and onto the plane without incident, people have better things to do between 6 and 7 am on a Tuesday apparently. Landing back in Los Angeles was a different story, people don’t care that it is noon on a Tuesday. 

Kylo still looked exhausted, and you hoped nobody followed you. As the car pulled up to the studio you knew you would be safe. You showed Kylo to your car and got in to drive to your apartment.

He looked at you as you pulled out of your spot, “Hey, thank you so much. I appreciate it, more than you might think.”

You nodded, “You’re welcome, Kylo. Do you want to listen to some music?”

“Sure. Listen to what you normally do.”

You turned on your radio, the bluetooth connecting and automatically playing your playlist. You tapped along to the songs on your steering wheel as you drove. After twenty minutes you pulled up to your run down building and parked in your spot.

You turned to Kylo, “No crazy fans it seems. That is good.”

He hummed, “Yeah. But there are still people around that could recognize me.”

“If they ask if you’re Kylo Ren just tell them no and give a fake name. I don’t talk with my neighbors so they don’t know what I do. And none of my friends know who I work for.”

He nodded and prepared himself to step out. He messed up his hair so it wasn’t as perfect as his normal style, put on the hood of his sweatshirt and stepped out, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder.

You stepped out and got your bag from your trunk. You looked over at him awkwardly looming next to the car, “Let’s go, sir.”

He followed you like a lost puppy, and then you heard the voice of your annoying neighbor from the floor below yours, “Hey, 32! Is that Kylo Ren?”

You turned to her voice, “No. This is my friend.”

She acted like you were lying, “You sure?”

He stepped in, “Uh, yeah. I’m Ben. But I get that a lot. It is a bit tiresome.”

You tried to pull him away and walk inside, but she wouldn’t relent, why did she have to be out? And why did she care? She has always been vocal about despising everything about Hollywood, especially celebrities.

“Do you have ID to prove it?”

Kylo stopped and you turned, “Ben, don’t pay her any mind, let’s go get some lunch.”

He didn’t move when you pulled, “No, she wants proof I’m not stupid Kylo Ren, I’ll prove it,” he pulled out his ID and showed it to her, “See? Benjamin Solo. Now, can me and my friend go have some lunch? I’m rather hungry and I have a short fuse when I haven’t eaten.”

She just walked away after reading his ID. He looked to you and you just walked in, taking the elevator up and getting him in your apartment.

You threw down your bag as soon as you closed your door, “I’m so damn sorry Kylo. She is so annoying, and thinks she can know anything she wants. She isn’t even on this floor, she is in 21. But, uhh? You aren’t really Kylo Ren?”

He sat on your couch, “Well, I am now. I legally changed my name last year when people started recognizing me, but I still have my old ID, which I had just renewed a few months before I changed my name.”

You nodded, not wanting to pry further, "Alright then. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Can I get some water please?"

You went and dropped your stuff in your room then got him a glass of water.

You sat on the floor after you gave him the cup, "TV? Food?"

"Watch whatever you want, (y/n)."

You turned on Netflix and turned on the show you were currently binging, then your belly grumbled, “I’m going to go fix some lunch, any requests?”

He looked at you hopefully, “Tacos?”

You thought for a moment and nodded, “Yes, I have everything to make tacos.”

You left the show on, you could rewatch the episode later, and went in to cook. You cooked some carne asada you had prepared for this week, some rice and beans, then prepared all the toppings you needed. Assembling Kylo's tacos were easy, he liked his tacos almost plain, just meat on the tortilla with some fresh pico de gallo. When everything was finished you fixed each of you a plate of your preferred tacos with some rice and beans then brought the plates to the living room. 

"Here you go, Kylo. Just as you like it."

He took the offered plate and began to eat, "Did you make all of this right now? This is amazing."

You nodded, "I did most of it. I had the carne asada marinating to fix this week, and the salsa I just made. The beans and rice are pre-packaged, but I try to make them myself too, when I have the time. And the tortillas I buy fresh from a neighbor."

He hummed, "Well this is all delicious. Thank you so much."

You smiled and ate your meal. When you finished you took your plate into wash along with all the items you cooked with once you stored the leftover food.

After a moment Kylo sheepishly walked in with his plate, "Excuse me, (y/n)? Is there anymore?"

You turned to look at him, "Yeah! I just put it away in the fridge. Help yourself."

Kylo took out the containers and fixed himself more tacos, then stood at the counter to eat them while talking with you. "Where did you learn to cook like that?"

"Mostly self taught. I had to learn how to stretch my food budget when I moved out. Cooking from bulk purchases helps. So I had to learn how to use the same ingredients in as many ways as possible so I wouldn't get bored."

He handed you his now empty plate, "Can you be my personal chef and my PA?"

You laughed, "You don't want to see me 24/7 Kylo."

He walked out of the kitchen, "Maybe I do."

You just shook your head and finished washing everything. When you walked back into your living room, Kylo was passed out on your couch. He looked so uncomfortable, he was almost bigger than the old thing. You went to your room, changed all your bedding, then hid all the embarrassing things you had out. 

You gently woke up Kylo once you finished, "Hey, go sleep in my bed. It is a lot more comfortable than this small thing."

He groaned and stretched, voice heavy with sleep, "No. That is your bed. You sleep in it. I'm fine here."

You crossed your arms, "No. Kylo. You are sleeping in my bed. I don't need to sleep right now anyways. You do. You've been working so hard recently. Go sleep in a damn bed."

He stood up and pat your head, clearly still mostly asleep, "Whatever you say, my dear. Goodnight."

Your cheeks burned and you just shook your head as you watched him shuffle into your room and unceremoniously flop face first onto your bed, snoring within moments. You went and shut the door most of the way, but first you placed his bags in plain sight in case he woke up and wanted to change out of his jeans. 

You worked around your apartment, not letting the fact you had an unplanned guest keep you from your planned chores. You swept and dusted, set your bedding on to wash, the one nice thing about this apartment, you had a washer and dryer in your unit. While the wash was on you sat down and restarted your show and went through your social media. One of your friends shared a tabloid article theorizing that Kylo Ren is in a secret relationship since he has yet to return home after landing earlier today and has spent a lot less time interacting with fans these past few months. 

You mumbled to yourself, “He’s staying away from you pricks. You’ve exhausted the poor man.”

You continued perusing, finding nothing else of interest, then paused your show before moving everything to the dryer. You continued watching until it was time to make dinner, pasta is what you had planned for tonight, so you doubled everything to have enough for Kylo.

As you were cooking you heard Kylo enter the kitchen, “Good evening, sleeping beauty. Are you hungry?”

Kylo was still a bit groggy, but rapidly waking up, “Yeah. The smells woke me up. What are you making?”

He sat at your kitchen table and you brought him a glass of orange juice, his favorite, “Pasta. Specifically homemade cheese tortellini with meat sauce. And garlic bread.”

He took a sip and hummed, “You make pasta?”

You nodded, “Only filled pasta, it is cheaper that way. And I made the sauce and garlic bread. Including the bread. But I freeze a lot of stuff so I didn’t actually make any of it tonight.”

He held up his glass, “And this juice?”

You laughed, “That is store bought. I can’t make it as well.”

“You’re lying. I’m sure you can.”

You hummed, “Yeah. I can. But only when oranges are in season.”

You turned back and began to stir the sauce and added the pasta to the now boiling water. You pulled out the garlic bread and shut off the flame for the sauce. After a few minutes you drained the pasta and added a bit of the water to the sauce, then added most of the sauce to the drained pasta.

"Alright, food is ready Kylo. Come help yourself."

"It smells amazing."

You handed him a plate and he served himself then sat back at the table. You followed suit and served yourself, then sat across from him. 

You shared pleasant conversation, taking turns asking about the other's life. While you worked for him, and were around him more often than not, neither of you knew much about the other, but this time together would change that. 

When he finished he looked up and smiled at you, "Now for a more personal question, if you want to answer it. Are you dating anyone?"

You smiled back and chuckled, "So asking about my parents and childhood isn't personal, but asking if I'm dating is?" You paused to take a sip, "No, Kylo. I'm not. Haven't dated in awhile. What about you then? There is a tabloid article out there theorizing you're in a secret relationship since you haven't come home yet and aren't interacting as much with fans."

He groaned and covered his face, "No. I'm not. Same as you, haven't in awhile." He rubbed his face and looked at you again, "And you know that tabloid is wrong. I'm here with you."

"But what about the fan interactions? Just the burn out?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I've really just wanted to go to bed recently, or get into work. They're great and all, but I don't want to be on at 7 am or 9 pm, especially if I just came from a different timezone."

"I can't even imagine. But you don't have to be on at all this week. Stay here for as much of that time as you want. Be Benjamin Solo again, if only for me."

His eyes lit up, "Yes. Call me Ben. Please. Only my mom and dad call me that anymore. I need to be Ben for a week. I'll order some plain clothes online to be delivered here too. I’m going to be Ben Solo again."

You nodded, "Okay, Ben. Let me clean up, and you can work on ordering everything you need. Then tell me when you're checking out and I'll fill out my address."

He stood up and grabbed both plates, "Let me help you please."

"Alright. You can help me Ben."

He grinned and had a tiny celebration, "Yes! Thank you."

He set to work filling up the sink with water, placing the plates and utensils in the sink, then turning to you, "Uhh, the leftovers need to be put away. Where are your containers?"

You moved to the right cabinet, "This one, Ben. But I'll put it away. You focus on washing."

He nodded, "Okay, (y/n)."

You put away the food and Ben grabbed each empty piece and cleaned it. Once the food was put away you sat up on your counter.

You looked to Ben, who was meticulously scrubbing the saucepan, "I had no problem cleaning up, Ky… I mean Ben. I do it all the time."

He turned to you, "I'm your unplanned guest. I want to do has much as possible to help and not throw off your schedule and routine. I'm sure you have one here too."

You looked away, feeling your cheeks warm a bit, "Well I do. But I'm fine doing it all myself."

He pointed a stern finger at you, but his face held a small smile, "No. I'm washing the dishes. Go relax. Put on a movie. Pour yourself some wine if you want, and have any. I'll be out in a bit."

You just nodded and listened, going to turn on some super cheesy rom-com your friend told you to watch. After a while you heard the sink draining and footsteps coming back out. 

Ben plopped down on the couch right next to you and outstretched his arms across the back, then groaned, "Really, (y/n)? You like rom-coms too?"

You paused it, "Shit, sorry. Wasn't thinking. I just think that they are funny, especially the real cheesy ones. And one can dream about randomly falling in love with a stranger. But I'll change it to something else."

Ben shook his head, "No, you can keep watching. I'll order those clothes."

You started playing the movie again and he pulled out his phone and wallet to find clothes with rush shipping. After twenty minutes he silently passed his phone to you and you typed in the address information then handed it back. Once the order was placed he put his phone away and again stretched his arms out. You didn't know if he was actually watching or just zoning out, but you were happy he didn't mind. 

As the credits rolled, you let out a yawn, “Alright, time for bed for me,” you tapped his thigh, “That means it is time for you to move, Mr. Solo. You’re on my bed.”

He turned to you, “No. I’ll sleep here.”

You grabbed his arm and stood up, “Nope, this is not an option. You are sleeping in my bed,” you began to pull on his arm, “Now come on you big oaf. You are going to sleep in my bed, just like you did earlier.”

He stayed planted in his spot, chuckling, “You’re gonna have to pull harder than that. I’m almost all muscles.”

You pulled harder and then tried to pull both his hands, starting to laugh, “Come on Ben. Go sleep in my damn bed.”

He stood up suddenly and caught you before you fell back, “Fine. Just this once.”

You crossed your arms, “This will be the second time, Ben. You slept before dinner.”

He smirked and walked away, into your room, “That was Kylo Ren, thank you very much. Now, do you need anything from in here before I close the door?”

You ran in, “Yes!”

He chuckled and just sat on your bed, pulling out his pajamas from his duffle bag. You grabbed everything you needed and went out.

You paused in the doorway, turning to Ben before closing the door, “Goodnight, Ben. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, (y/n). Thank you again.”

You nodded and closed the door then went to change and grab your bedding from the dryer. After setting everything up you crawled into your cocoon of blankets and pillows on the couch and fell asleep.

You were awoken a couple hours later by the sound of whining and screams, coming from your room. You quickly got up and knocked on the door, “Ben? You okay in there, sir?”

He didn’t respond, just more whimpers, so you opened up the door and walked in to find him asleep but thrashing.

Carefully, you approached him, reaching out to rub his arm, “Ben. Kylo. Wake up, sir. You’re having a nightmare.”

He woke up and clung to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He was panting, repeating your name, “I’m so sorry. So sorry. For waking you up. Sorry.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, “Ben. It is okay, Ben. I promise.”

He nodded and slowly calmed down, “Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thanks for waking me up. I normally have to fight for much longer to wake up.”

You softly scratched his scalp, “Lay back down. I’ll stay until you’re asleep again.”

He hummed, “Can you keep doing that, and playing with my hair?”

You chuckled, “Sure.”

He moved back to laying normally and you moved to keep petting his head. It didn’t take long for him to get drowsy again, and he began mumbling to you.

His voice was barely audible and clearly full of sleep, “I like this. I like you. Don’t tell though.”

You felt your cheeks warm and continued until his murmurs turned to snores. You got up again and softly kissed his forehead, “Goodnight, Ben Solo. Sweet dreams.”

[gaycrouton]

If you have time, would you consider doing 65? Or 62. Whichever you prefer!

 Hey Boo!!! Thanks for sending this my way!

62 - What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?

msr / pre-relationship / fluff

——————————————-

When you spent your entire life looking for answers, when fate let them fall in your lap you learned to be grateful.

“Goooooood Morning! This is Q92.3 in D.C coming to you with today’s hottest hits!”

She hadn’t really been paying attention to the station, only letting it run as idle background noise as she drove to work. She heard something about a contest for basketball tickes, something about calling in, something about having to answer a question, blah, blah, blah. 

“AAAAAAAnnnd congratulations, caller number thirteen! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Bob,” answered that familiar baritone she’d spent the last six years listening to. She felt herself sitting up straight in her chair as she listened to Bob come through her speakers. 

“Well hello uh-Bob. Are you ready to answer an embarassing question to earn two tickets to the Knicks?” the announcer boasted.

“Hit me,” Mulder replied. She could imagine him now, reclined in his office chair, feet propped up on the desk, absently playing with a pencil with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Alright. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?”” the announcer asked.

Scully jumped when a car behind her honked. She’d zoned out at the red light and had several empty spaces in front of her and many angry cars behind her. She drove while her heart raced in anticipation for Mulder’s answer.

“Sexiest? In terms of day to day or in bed?” he mused. If she had any doubts if this was Mulder or not, which she didn’t, this would have solidified it. If was so Mulder to have be specific. 

“Hmm, let’s go with the sexiest thing your woman does for you day to day,” the announcer clarified.

Scully felt her face blaze up as she took the widest turn of her life without even recognizing it. If she got to the office without a ticket it’d be a miracle. Hell, a cop could be behind her right now and follow her for miles and she wouldn’t notice. All she could pay attention to was how Mulder was going to answer.

“She listens to me,” he replied sweetly, and she felt the corners of her mouth tick upwards.

The radio station played a dramatic “awwwwh” sound effect and the announcer quickly started talking on the heels of it. “No, no, no. That’s not sexy, that’s just nice. Come on. What’s the sexiest thing your woman could do?”

“Flirt back. Ask me out,” he stated confidently.

She felt her pulse quicken as she flashed her ID to get into the parking garage. “Ohhh, so she’s not ‘your’ woman yet?”

“No, no. Not yet,” she heard Mulder chuckled shyly.

“What’s her name? How do you know her?” 

“She’s my partner, uh, co-worker. Her name’s S-Dana.”

She actually gasped, the sound piercing in the compact area of her car. He said her name. He actually said her name.

“Is she in to you, dude?” the DJ asked.

She pulled into a parking spot and didn’t give a second thought to if she was crooked or not. She just sat back in her seat and looked at the radio in stunned silence. Yes. Yes she is, is the only true answer he could give.

“Um,” then she heard him to that fucking little nervous laugh she did when he was putting himself down. Of course I do you idiot.

“I’m not sure. Probably not,” he laughed.

“Mulder!” she groaned outloud in the car, letting her head fall back against the head rest. Did he think she just let anyone take her to the batting cages for hours? Did he think she just went over to anyones house for movie marathons? God for a genius he was really an idiot.

“Well, maybe you can take her to the Knicks game on Friday because cooooonnngratulations Bob! You’ve won two tickets with your embarassing honesty.”

“Thanks,” Mulder replied appreciatively. 

There was a brief intermission before a Nick Cave song came on and she just sat there in stunned silence. She knew they were bad at communicating, but surely he knew she liked him? God, she felt like a kid. 

“Flirt back. Ask me out.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt with renewed enthusiasm and built up her courage the entire walk to the basement. Oh, prepare yourself, Bob.

When she got there, he was exactly how she’d pictured him. Reclined and lethargic, but with a smile on his face - presumably from being the proud owner of two tickets to a game. “Good morning, Scully,” he greeted.

“Hi, Mulder,” she beamed, sending him her warmest smile. The cheeriness of her greeting must’ve thrown him off because he spent a moment just watching her, observing a foreign species in an unknown habitat. 

She’d really given herself a pep talk during her walk over here and she decided she wanted to lay it on right away and, if it went poorly, she could recover throughout today instead of mulling over her impulsive decision over the weekend. 

She walked slowly over towards his desk, looking around with feigned intrest as she noticed his curiosity heighten. By the time she was close to his propped up legs, she raised herself up a bit so she could sit on the desk next to his legs. “Can I ask you something?” she asked softly, pretending that it was her who was self concious rather than admitting she knew he was.

He lowered his feet and rolled closer to her, looking up at her with intense concentration. “O-of course you can, Scully.”

“Did you have a good time at the batting cages?” she questioned, playing with the corner of the desk, avoiding his gaze in fear she’d lose confidence. Okay, maybe she was a little self concious too. 

“Why-,” he began before instead saying, “Yeah, of course. I had a great time.”

She nodded, taking this in. “Me too.”

She chanced a glance at him and saw he was smiling softly at her admission. “Why do you bring it up? Are you coming onto me?” he joked, trying to ease the heavy tension blanketing them.

“Yeah, is it working?” she teased while gauging his face for a reaction. The tips of his ears turned red and it was painfully cute.

“Maybe,” he shrugged with faux disintrest, reclining back in his chair.

“I want to do it again,” she replied.

“Go to the batting cages?” he asked.

She shook her head and cotquettishly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “No, um. If you’d be interested, I’d like to hang out with you again. In public.”

“Like a…” he trailed off.

“Like a date,” she confirmed, her stomach doing sommersaults as his eyes brightened. 

“Really?” he asked.

“Only if you’d want to-”

“Yes. Yes I would,” he nodded vigorously.

“Good,” she beamed at him. They maintained eye contact for a minute before she cleared her throat and eased herself off the desk, walking around to sit at her chair. 

“I, um. I promise everytime we go out I won’t try to drag you to sport stuff, but I actually just got a pair of Knicks tickets? If you’re free Friday?” he rambled, not wanting to say the wrong thing and have her recind the offer. 

“It’s a date,” she smiled.

“It’s a date,” he repeated in near-disbelief.

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

Written late as a gift for @quietknightin (Sorry it's so late!)

“I don’t know, Lance,” Allura said, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed in a tight black dress that went to just above her knees with sleek black stilettos that grew her a full four inches. The subtle sequins caught the light and sent little fractions of light all around the room. “Don’t you think it’s a little… much?”

Lance shook his head, words not forming correctly as he looked at her. “Absolutely not. You look gorgeous.” He made a twirling motion with his finger and she rolled her eyes and spun for him. He nodded. “Yep, if you were straight, I would definitely try to date you.”

Allura laughed, the sound as light as a bell. “You don’t need to tell me that every day, you know.” She said. “What would your boyfriend think of you hitting on me daily anyway?” She played with her hair, twirling it between her fingers loosely.

“He’s seen you before, and we are very comfortable and happy in our relationship,” Lance muttered, “Thank you for asking. Now sit down and let me do your hair; it’s going to look beautiful.” He pulled the chair right in front of her makeup stand out and motioned for her to sit there.

She took her seat and started getting some of her powders out. “I won’t move a lot this time, I promise.”

“Alright,” Lance said, smiling and cracking his knuckles. “Are we going for a ‘sleep with me and I’ll show you the best night of your life’ look, or are we going for an ‘I’m attractive and sweet and you want to propose on the spot’ look?”

Allura pulled her brushes out, handing her hairbrush back to Lance along with a few hair ties. “Let’s go for something in between the two, yeah? Like a ‘you want to sleep with me and only me for the rest of your life because you want to propose’ look. Could you do that?” She tossed her hair over her bare shoulder.

“I can do anything.”

---

Allura stood awkwardly in the middle of the bar. She was supposed to sign into the event but getting those last few steps in to reach the ledger was daunting, to say the least.

‘Meet Your Valentine’ was the annual speed dating event put on by Altea, the high-end bar in town, and this year, Allura would be participating.

Well, she would be, if she could just take those last few steps to reach the counter, tell her name, and say she was looking for other women. That’s all she needed to do. So why was she rooted to the spot?

“Allura!” called a voice behind her. She couldn’t be sure but the accent sounded familiar. Turning, she was almost tackled to the ground by a smaller woman in a bright pink blouse tied loosely around her waist and a white pencil skirt. She flung her arms around Allura, probably messing up the hair that Lance had spent half an hour on.

“Yes?” She asked, pulling away and keeping the woman at arm's length to look over her. Her face was small and her warm brown eyes were accentuated from a thin eyeliner. It took her a second before recognition flashed over her eyes at the two blonde pigtails on either side of her head. “Romelle!”

And Romelle was back in her arms in a bone-crushing hug. Someone was squealing, and neither of them knew who was. “I can’t believe it’s you!” Romelle said, pulling back and fixing her hair. “It’s been years, Allura, years!”

Allura fixed her hair, smiling. “I think it’s been five or six years, hasn’t it? Secondary school was the last I heard from you.”

Romelle, bless her heart, nodded and sent her hair flying in every direction again. “It’s really been too long.” She smiled, looking around at the bar. “Are you hear for the ‘Meet Your Valentine’ event? I’ve wanted to join every year that I’ve been single.” She coughed unconvincingly to cover up her next words. “AKA, every year.”

Allura nodded. “My friend told me that I’m too pretty to be single around this time of year.”

“Well, your friend was telling the truth. Are they here with you now? I want to thank them for getting you out,” Romelle smiled brilliantly at her.

Shaking her head, Allura brushed the comment off. “He’s off to dinner with his boyfriend. I think he’s going to propose this year, so I’m happy for them.

“Thank you, everyone, who signed up for the event to Meet Your Valentine!” someone was saying behind the two of them. “If you made it to me before time is up, go ahead and take a seat at the table that we’ve assigned you!”

Allura paled. “No, no, no. I was supposed to sign up!”

Romelle bit her lip, standing beside her. “I was supposed to sign up too,” she muttered, looking sideways at Allura and all the effort she had put into her outfit and makeup, not wanting it to go to waste. “Well, we’ll just have to spite them and be each other’s date then,” she decided, pulling Allura to an empty table.

“A cosmopolitan for you?” Allura asked, trying to remember her order from when they had gotten fake IDs together.

“And a strawberry daiquiri for you.” Romelle finished, smiling. “Glad to know our orders haven’t changed in years.” She ordered for the two of them. “So…?”

Allura smiled back at her, her dress sparkling in the dim light. “So… what?”

“So what have you been up to?” Romelle asked, her eyes lighting up as she leaned over the table to look closer at Allura. “It’s been years so something must have happened.”

Allura laughed, the tinkling bells filling the space around her once more. “Well, I graduated from University with a degree in Political Science, but then somehow I ended up teaching six and seven-year-olds.”

Romelle’s eyes lit up. “Exciting! So you’re a teacher now?”

She nodded. “I also started a non-profit for children with learning disabilities.” Their drinks came at that moment, and she hid her blushing face behind her daiquiri, sipping it and savoring the flavor.

“I can’t believe the girl that almost fainted the first time she was called out for having a fake ID is changing the lives of children!”

“Don’t put it like that, ‘Melle, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

She scoffed. “Quiznak if it’s not a big deal, it’s a big deal to some of those kids you’re helping!” She grabbed her cosmopolitan and drank half of it in one go. “You’re a saint, Allura.”

She giggled, sipping her drink again. “If you say so, ‘Melle. What have you been up to?”

“I’ve been working on research!” Romelle squealed. “For new renewable energy sources. I’m trying to figure out how to take all of the potential energy stored in plant waste and turn that into energy we can actually use! I’ve made a few steps forward in the process too!”

“And you say I’m the saint. You’re working on saving the planet!” She said with her eyebrows raised. She went to take another sip, only to realize that it was gone. So was Romelle’s. When had that happened?

They ordered another round as they continued their conversation. And then another. And another. And soon they were red in the face and giggling at anything the other girl said.

“Alright, now tell me the truth,” Romelle slurred, sending Allura into another fit of giggles. “I’m being serious now, ‘Lura. Serious question. Very serious question.”

“I have a very serious answer,” Allura said back through her giggles. “So serious. Very serious. Let’s say them at the same time!”

Romelle nodded. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me.”

“Cows!” Allura yelled at the same time, earning them weird looks from the other tables as they both burst out laughing.

Romelle almost fell off of her chair, but she managed to catch herself. “I was being serious ‘Lura. Would you be my Valentine?”

“I--” Allura shook her head, then smiled brightly. “Of course I would!”

Romelle smiled back at her, leaning across the table and their empty glasses to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Returning back to her seat wasn’t quite as smooth or romantic as she had wished, the table rocked back and forth, almost spilling what was left of their drinks on them.

“Check. I’ll get the check,” Allura mumbled, pawing at her clutch to get her card when Romelle stopped her.

She shook her head. “I asked you. You’re my Valentine, so I gotta pay for both of us.” She giggled, paying for both of them before they left the bar, hand in hand.

I hope you enjoyed!

[superevilbadguy]

Diakko One-Shot Fic

So, this had started out as a sketch dump of the same idea and then somehow turned into a song and a 4000+ word fic? I don’t think of myself as much of a writer, but here goes (with pics included!)

Diakko Bar/Band AU fic - To celebrate the end of finals and friends being back in the area, Barbara and Hannah bring Diana to a bar that just so happens to be hosting a live music night. She finds herself intrigued by the energetic guitarist of The Broom Stix but initially thinks nothing of it, that is until she finds herself next to her ordering a drink. She didn’t think much of what the night was going to bring, but she finds that she is pleasantly surprised.

Edit: Part 2 here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It should be right down this way.” Hannah directs to the two girls following behind her. Diana, whose hand was currently being lead by a very excited, very cold and debatably underdressed Barbara, was unfamiliar with the bar she and her friends were invited to. But now that her medical school finals have ended for the semester, much to Hannah and Barbara’s excitement, she figured a few drinks and a change of scenery from their apartment wouldn’t hurt.

This was not really her definition of a Friday night well spent, but Hannah and Barbara looked so thrilled about it when they asked if she would like to join. She didn’t have the heart to decline, nor did she have a good excuse to. It would be nice to see her old friends from high school; while Avery still came over to meet up with Hannah and Barbara every once in a while, she hadn’t seen Mary or Blair since graduation. Also if she was going to be perfectly honest with herself, she was secretly a little excited about the fact that this would be the first time going out to get drinks since she had turned of age.

“Avery says she found Mary and Blair over by the bar.” Hannah says looking down at her phone. “They said they’re buying first round.”

“Th-that’s nice…” Barbara shivers noticeably as she quickens her step, Diana having no choice but to keep up. “Hey Hannah, how close are we?”

“Should be right over here I think. I remember passing it down this way.” She turns back to see Barbara, she grabs her free arm and rubs it trying to keep her warm. “Why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

“It wasn’t going to look nice with the dress!” She clenches her arms closer to her body, both Hannah and Diana squeezing in closely next to her.  

“Who are you trying to look so nice for?” Hannah looks over, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know!” She blushes lightly. “Ooh! Is that it?” She pulls the two towards the door, the words ‘Moonburst’ scrawled onto it shine bright green into the cold December night. Hannah opens the door and Barbara rushes in.

They walk into the bar, immediately welcomed by the sound of live music and a bouncer looking for IDs.

The room had dark walls adorned with signed instruments and photographs, wooden flooring and bar tops, as well as a large stage taking up a majority of wall opposing the bar. A large crowd of people surround the stage as the current band plays a song Diana has heard on the radio.

As they move through the crowd looking for the other girls the sound of feedback arrests their ears followed by a sudden lack of guitar. Diana turns to face the lighted stage seeing the guitarist, a girl with a brown half ponytail, red tee and denim jacket push herself up off the ground, unwrap the cord from around her foot, and rush to the amplifier fumbling to plug herself back into the sound system. The rest of the band, a collection of three other girls, look over to her with concern and… not a shred of surprise.  

The guitarist turns around nervously, a contagious smile stretched across her face, and resumes her playing with the next measure. The singer, a girl with two toned pink and orange hair, looks over to her with a raised brow, to which she responds with a shrug and a blush.

Diana turns back to her friends to find Hannah waving to the girls at the other end of the bar. She takes one last look at the girl onstage who is now hyperaware of the cords running along the ground then follows her friends through the crowd.  

They get to the other end of the bar and immediately get enveloped into a six-woman group hug. Once the hug ends and the excited hellos fade, the girls order their drinks and start catching up.

The conversation just continues to roll, anecdotes of the last few years fill the air between them only to take respite to bouts of laughter. They talk about family, old classmates, flings, and university among the general small talk. Every passing story results in more alcohol fueled laughter than the last. Diana herself had begun feeling the effect of her drink after only half a glass, her comfort growing around the girls she hadn’t seen in years.

As Blair descends into a fit of giggle and snorts over the story she had started to tell, Diana looks towards the band on stage. Just by looking at them she could tell they were definitely experienced and accustomed to playing public venues. Though the music was not really her taste, she can appreciate that the nerves that would wrack a new performer were nowhere to be seen. The guitarist looked as though any caution from the accident earlier was abandoned as she spins and jumps while playing, her hair bobbing to the beat. The singer dances around with the mic stand when not carrying the rhythm with her bass. The redheaded keyboardist standing near the back sways with the music but keeps herself composed, contrasting the pinkish haired drummer who moves fluidly with every hit of her drumstick. Despite a few instrumental errors, Diana thought they were pretty good. Each song they covered kept relatively true to the original artist’s version, adding for the most part, a tasteful amount of personality to make it their own.

“You’ve been such a sick crowd tonight!” The singer calls out into the microphone as the crowd lightly cheers. “Our time is almost up…” she takes a moment to catch her breath, “so we’re going to finish up tonight with a little something you haven’t heard on the radio.” She looks over to the guitarist who was quickly re-tuning her guitar after the last song. She takes a quick exhale and quickly nods to the singer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your ears! We are The Broom Stix and this, for the first time ever, is Afterimage…”

The guitarist starts to pick at the strings creating a light melody. The singer then steps up to the microphone.

“I was blinded by your light

Moments after I saw you. I see

What my heart believes

That I am meant to be.”

The light sounding guitar turns heavy with the stomp of a pedal, renewing the energy alongside the introduction of a steady drum beat, thrumming bass, and a keyboard dripping with effect.

“Millenia pass, as it seems it,

Since we’ve said a word.

If we’ve said a word, I might not have heard,

I could have been listening to a feeling.”

Diana notes that this was a very different sound to what they had been playing earlier in the night, a welcome variation in her opinion. She noticed that the previously energetic girl with the ponytail now wore a new expression. ‘Is she… nervous?’

“Diana? You okay? Hellooo?”

She snaps her attention back to her friends. Hannah looking as concerned as a girl three drinks in could.

“I-I’m sorry, I must have been zoning out.” She giggles, referencing to her nearly empty glass. “I guess my tolerance hasn’t been built yet.”  

Hannah giggles, “Just wanted to make sure…” slurring her words. She looks backwards towards the stage. “Heh heh… were you looking at the singer?? I’d like to get to know her a little better…”

Suddenly their attention turns to Barbara as she drunkenly screams Hannah’s name… and… is crying...?

The girls dive back into conversation, Diana’s ears however, were still trained on the song being played behind her.

The chorus rang through the speakers, a little muffled due to the volume of the instruments being played.

“I was blinded by your light, igniting the path I’m meant to lead.

I’m strengthened by your afterimage staring back at me.

I was blinded by your light, and the shining is what keeps me believing,

That even though you’re gone, I’ll find our home waiting there. You’ll see. You’ll see.”

Listening to the lyrics the best she could, she sensed a warm familiarity to what the song seemed to be portraying.

Before her passing, her mother had been a critical care doctor. She had accidentally been stuck by a contaminated needle containing a sample of a fatal blood illness that eventually took her life. During the time she was sick, however, she continued to work where the hospital would allow her. When she had gotten too sick to go to work she had told Diana that she had worked as long as she did because there were still those she could make a difference for, that there was a part of her life that will carry on in those she was able to send home. Her mother’s passion for what she did with her life inspired Diana to pursue medical school, igniting the desire to make a difference in someone’s time of need. She wished little more than to fill the white coat and scrubs her mother had left behind.

She shook her head and snapped back into reality. ‘My goodness is this the drink? My, I should know this.’ She looked back at her friends still enveloped in conversation.

The song continuing in the background holds her warmly, clenching her chest.

“I don’t know where you are,

or if this path you still do follow.

I swear I’ll find the words

to say to you for this dream I’ve borrowed.

Some of the stars we see in the night sky

are long since gone, I’m told.

They say it’s time has passed, but it’s still shining.

Our story’s not fully told.”      

She couldn’t really place what it was she was feeling. It was a beautiful mixture of joy and melancholy. She felt… validated… somehow. Having found something unexpectedly that reflects something so close to her heart. Or maybe her reaction to alcohol was just her getting overemotional…

She looked over to Barbara who had gone from crying to hysterical laughing in less than 15 seconds and it had her a little worried as to what she would think of her own behavior if she were not lightly intoxicated. She thinks Hannah would have taken record of any outstanding incident, so since she has yet to see her pull out her phone she figures she’s been sound so far.

“…even though you’re gone, I’ll find our home. In my heart I believe.

In my heart I believe…”

The song ends with the guitar fading out after one final crash of the cymbals. The crowd applauds as the musicians take a bow before moving their gear off the stage, making way for the next band.

Diana finishes the last of her drink and stifles a giggle as Barbara tries to clap her on the back (ended up being a light stroke on her shoulder), while congratulating her on her first drink.

“Go! Go get another!!” Barbara slurs excitedly pushing Diana clean through the center of the group circle. She apologizes profusely to Blair who she was pushed right into, but only receives a slightly too strong hug from the girl before being urged to get another drink.

Dodging her way through the crowd surrounding the bar she notices the girls from the band standing in a small grouping a bit further down the bar. The singer had the girl with the ponytail in a headlock. When she was released they bumped fists as the redhead keyboardist pushed the drummer, who was surprisingly much less enthusiastic than she had been on stage, towards the other two into a group hug. Diana looked towards the bar and got herself in position to order.

She racked her brain thinking of what drinks she knew of. What Avery had ordered for her before was pretty good. ‘What was it? A Shiny Volley?’

The bartender came up to her and she ordered the Shiny Volley, it seems that was correct because he simply gave her a thumbs-up and went on his way to make her drink.

As she waited for her drink, a person stepped up to the bar beside her trying to get the attention of the other bartender.  She turns to see the girl with the ponytail leaning politely over the bar.

“Okay, what can I get you?” The bartender asks.

“Can I get a-” The girl with the ponytail wilts as the bartender walks past her towards another girl further down the bar.  

Diana lets out a giggle. Much to her horror, the girl with the ponytail hears her and turns to face her. For a moment she looked like she was aware of the humor of what just happened, but that expression fled to make way for the blood to fill her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I-”

“It’s okay, really. It’s not the first time it’s happened” the girl laughs at herself rubbing the back of her neck and looking away.

“I saw you on stage. Your band is very good.” ‘What are you doing Diana?’ This was new. Starting small talk with strangers was not really something Diana was used to, or comfortable with for that matter. However, it seems something about this girl had taken her interest. Or maybe it’s the… alcohol?

The girl with the ponytail laughs, trying to look in any direction but in the one of the girl speaking to her. “T-thank you. I hope you liked the show.”

The bartender slides Diana’s drink over telling her the price.

“Actually, I’d like to buy this woman’s drink as well, please.” Diana gestures over to the girl beside her, who is now looking confusedly between the blonde and the bartender.

“What’ll you have?” he asks her as he reaches for a glass.

“I-um. Are you sure? I mean?” the girl stutters, her red eyes swirling with confusion. Diana simply smiles and nods. “Uh-um I’ll uh. I’ll have a Finnelan on tap please.”  

“Coming right up.” The bartender takes the glass and moves down the bar.

The girl looks over at Diana with a flurry of emotions cycling through her features. “Why’d you do that? Let me pay you back.” She begins digging through her pockets.

Diana smiles at her, “No, please. Think of it as me paying to see your band’s performance.”

The girl pauses and looks up at her, “Are you really sure?”

The bartender sets the beer down in front of her as Diana passes over the bill.

“Thank you…” the brunette says through a shy smile. “Can I get your name?”

She sits in surprise for a moment, trying to figure out why she hadn’t introduced herself BEFORE she insisted on buying this stranger’s drink. “Oh, my apologies. How rude. I’m Diana. May I get your name?”

“Diana.” The girl repeats to herself quietly. “Uh, I’m Atsu- Akko! Call me Akko. Th-thank you for the drink Diana.” She smiles nervously before turning to her drink.

They sit quietly for a moment as Akko takes a large gulp of her beer. Diana takes a sip of her drink realizing it is not what she had been drinking earlier. It wasn’t bad.

Akko clears her throat, allowing a moment to compose herself. “So, Diana. What brings you here tonight? Do you know any of the other bands?”

Diana shakes her head as she swallows. “No. Some friends from high school were getting together and decided to meet up here.” She looks over her shoulder at her friends before turning back to the red eyes that followed her gaze. “It’s a nice bar, a little loud for catching up.”

“It’s actually usually pretty laid back, but on the nights when the bands play it gets uh…loud…er...” ‘duh! C’mon Akko!’ she mentally slaps herself.

“Does your band play here often?” Diana asks, breaking Akko out of her awkward introspection.

“Uh. I wouldn’t say often…” she scratches her jaw before turning and pointing to the rest of her band. “Amanda, um, our lead singer… she is actually in another band with some of the staff here and they ended up getting us a spot. So, this is Lotte, Sucy, and my first time performing here, but we’ve seen tons of shows.”

“Do you enjoy performing? You looked very comf-“

“It’s the best feeling in the world!” Akko bursts throwing her head back.

Diana is a little taken back by the excitement of the girl, but can’t help but let out a light giggle.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off. It’s like ahh! So much… arggh.” She struggles to find the right word, “It’s just, what I’ve always wanted to do. Make people feel things, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Playing a song and hearing the crowd singing the words back at you is just such an amazing thing. Like, in that moment, its just you and everyone else sharing this connection and emotions and it’s ahh… it’s powerful, ya know?  Like everyone is on the same wavelength, its… an out of body experience.”

Diana looked at this girl, eyes sparkling, smile stretching from ear to ear, saying every word with such conviction and love. It was breathtaking to see. In that moment her heart clenched and her chest filled with warmth. ‘Woah. Diana. Alllcohol?’

“S-sorry, heheh, I got a little carried away.” Akko looks away sheepishly as her words rouse Diana out of her awestruck state.

“No, no please. You were… um…” she fumbles on her words, praying that the heated blush on her face was masked by the drink she now held up to her mouth. Still trying to analyze what is was that just happened. “H-how long have you been playing for?  You are very good.”

The girls red eyes crinkle as a flash of pink paints her cheeks. “Nahhh.” She waves her hand. “I’m just okay. I’ve been playing since I was in high school, but I’ve always wanted to perform. Sucy, Lotte, and I have been friends since elementary school and we started writing songs and just fooling around with some instruments, so we decided to start a band. Well, I mostly made them, but they love it! No matter what Sucy says…” she rolls her eyes playfully before taking a swig of her beer.

Diana turns her chair to face the brunette. ‘I wonder… who?’ “Did you and your friends write that last song you played?”

Akko froze for a moment, the beer in her glass stopping at her lip, worry washing over her features. She gulps quickly before placing her drink down and poorly feigning comfort. “Y-yeah. I wrote it.”

Unbeknownst to herself, Diana’s face breaks into a small smile. “You wrote that?” She notes the other girls discomfort and reaches her hand over to touch her shoulder. ‘What am I…? Oh whatever.’ “Akko, it was beautiful.”

Akko’s rigid posture instantly melts as she looks into cerulean eyes, surprised? Relieved?

“I… lost someone very close to me when I was young, and… what you wrote was… I know the feelings.” She stumbled on her words, lost in the attempt to explain her emotions. “I really liked it.”

Akko let out an enormous sign of relief, “You… you don’t think its cheesy?”

The two talked for hours. Once they had both finished their drinks, Akko ordered another beer for herself and insisted that she buy a drink for Diana. Diana relented, however Akko said it wasn’t fair that she ordered a water. It had been a couple hours since they started talking and Diana could see Akko, who already proved to be a very heart on her sleeve kind of girl, actually start pulling up her sleeves.

“Shiny Chariot is and always will be my favorite performer.” Akko lifts the sleeve on her left arm to reveal a tattoo of Shiny Chariot’s signature star and banner graphic over a toned deltoid. “A lot of people think it’s silly, but she’s the one who made me want to be a musician.” The brunette says smiling. “She was my first concert, and I just remember being so happy. The drums pounding in my chest. Now, she knew how to put on a show!” She rolled her sleeve down picking up her drink once again. “After she stopped performing, I started begging my mom for music lessons. That’s actually when I wrote Afterimage…” she scratched the back of her neck, eyes scanning the bar top. “I kind of always hoped that one day if I got to play in front of a really big crowd maybe she would be there and hear it, I don’t know. I’d probably just die on the spot or something.” She starts laughing before lifting her drink to her lips.

She knew she was maybe not completely sober, but she was pretty sure her emotions were no longer affected by any intoxication. But when Diana looked at the girl again, she saw the pools of fire in her eyes burning with brilliant sincerity and passion, the adorably messy ponytail bobbing as she laughs, the strong and calloused fingers she suddenly had the urge to hold- ‘Woah there. Diana. Seriously, what’s happening?’

Diana quickly shakes her head, chasing away the thoughts. She likes this girl.

She picks up her glass of water and raises it to Akko. “To Shiny Chariot.”

The brunette looks at her confused, glass still at her lips.

“To Shiny Chariot, for her music that I liked when I was younger, for everyone she’s inspired. Without her, I don’t believe I would have met you this evening.” She continues holding her glass up.

Akko looks over to her, face flushing. She breaks into a shy smile and raises her glass towards Diana. “To Shiny Chariot.”

The two tap their glasses together.

“I never would have guessed you’re the flirty type.” Akko teases Diana as she takes her glass back.

Diana stops in shock and begins to panic, “I AM N- “

“AAAAAHHHHHHKKKKKKKOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” A very, VERY drunk Amanda yells as she flings herself towards her friend.

“Ahhkko, I ‘as lookin fr yuh ererywhere. L- *hic* Lotte and Suuuuuuuuuuucy are loadin’ th’ stuff up into the carrr.” Amanda drapes herself over Akko’s shoulder and notices someone is next to her. She looks at the blonde, tilting her head and just… stares… for a good five seconds.

Akko, in a mix of amusement and horror steadies her friend. “Okay Amanda, I’ll be-“

“Hai. Yu’r hair is clouds.” Amanda blurts out and continues to stare at Diana.

Diana looks at her entertained and simply says ‘thank you’. To which Amanda smiles and nods her head proudly.

“Okay, Amanda. I’ll be right there okay? How much did you drink?” Akko says panicking as Amanda begins to try to steady herself and move away.

“A whole bag of-” She trails off as she begins making her way back over to Lotte and Sucy.

Akko and Diana stand in silence for a moment.

“Well- it was lovely meeti-“

“Would you like to exchange numbers?” Akko blurts out. She cycles through the feelings of being proud and being terrified of the words that came out of her mouth. “So… um… I guess I can let you know when our next show is? Yeah. Uh. If you want…obviously.”

Diana stands there for a moment looking at the girl wringing her hands in front of her. She lets a smile cross her face. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Akko turns quickly, seemingly taken by surprise from the response. “Wait, really?”

Diana digs her phone out of her bag and starts tapping on the screen of the smart phone. She then looks up at the stunned brunette. “What number can I expect to hear from?”

Akko snaps out of her stupor, a huge smile spread across her face, and excitedly begins telling Diana her number. When the blonde finishes entering the number into her phone she looks up to Akko as the brunette looks down at her vibrating phone.

Akko opens the new text message reading ‘Diana :)’

“Oh my god you’re such a flirt!” She manages to

“WHAT DO YOU MEA- ?“

“AAAAHHHKKOOOOOO!!!” Amanda appears out of nowhere flinging herself over Akko’s shoulders. “I dun feel like flowers.”

“Okay, okay Amanda. We’re going.” Akko steadies her, repositioning Amanda’s arm around her neck and placing her own arm around her back to hold her up. She looks back at Diana smiling apologetically.

Diana smiles in return, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Akko does a little wave of her hand before carrying Amanda back across the bar towards the rest of their friends.

“Holy shiiit, Aaahkko. She wa *hic* really huckin fot…”

“Amanda!” Akko whisper yells and turns around to see if Diana could hear. Diana stood there with an amused smile waving her fingers at them.

“Heyyy, Did- *hic* did you - *burp*-“

“Amanda please!”

Diana returns to her friends (who had been watching the entire time).  

“Diana!!” Hannah and Barbara drunkenly sing in unison. Barbara, a little more out of it than Hannah, drapes herself around the other girl’s shoulders and waist. “We saw you at the bar! Who was that girl? Do you know her?” a buzzed Hannah asks while holding Barbara to keep her from hitting the floor.

Diana pauses a moment, half laughing at the scene in front of her and half trying to process why she is embarrassed of the blush creeping up her neck. “N-no” She quickly composes herself once she notes her hesitation ‘They probably didn’t notice anyway.’ “She is just one of the musicians and we had started talking and- “

“DIIIIAAAAAAAANAA!!!” Barbara clutches onto Hannah affectionately, not unlike a koala. “You. Youu…” she yells something inaudible into Hannah’s hair but then turns her face back to Diana wildly sobbing. “-SO HAPPY AND AND YOU WERE TOO CUTE TOGTHER!! TOO!!!” Diana couldn’t really hear what was coming out of her mouth but the blush violently claimed her face when through the mess of sounds she heard the words “good with her hands”. She didn’t hear too much after that, but she caught some Night Fall references before Hannah managed to calm Barbara’s yelling. She then begins giggling and promptly smooshes her face into Hannah’s shoulder.

Diana stands there not really sure how to proceed. All her voice could do was let out an undignified “uh.”

Hannah looks over to her smiling. “I was going to come over when I saw that girl practically drooling at you, but you looked like you were having fun.” She winks at her teasingly. “Glad you came?”

Diana wills away the blood in her cheeks, “I had a lovely night. I do apologize for stepping away for so long. I -”

Hannah waves her hand at her “pssh! Stop. It’s good.” She holds tightly to Barbara “C’mon Barb, lets go home.” A response of a drunken hum immediately follows.

Hannah looks over to Diana with a devilish smile, “So will we see you in the morning or are you not spending the rest of the night with ponytail girl?”

Diana groans and rolls her eyes as she lightly pushes Hannah and Barbara towards the door.

As the three are about to reach the door, Diana’s phone buzzes in her bag. She pulls it out and sees a text from Akko.

‘So, we are playing an acoustic set at Café Meridies next Saturday. Would you maybe want to meet me for a tea or coffee before? If you’re not busy… if you want. We go on at 2.’

Diana looks up and scans the bar for the girl before spotting her on the far side of the stage putting her guitar into its bag.

She types in a reply, ‘Shall I meet you there at noon?’ and hits send.

As she does she watches the girl zipping the guitar into the bag. Diana assumes she receives the message when she suddenly begins jumping and fist pumping into the air. She catches her falling guitar before it smashes onto the floor due to the sudden outburst, looks around nervously with the sudden realization that there were other people around her, and then resumes with a much smaller, less frantic dance.

Diana smiles and turns her head back to her friends, leaving the bar looking forward to Saturday.

END

[coppicefics]

Masked Omens: Week Two

New chapter here, or read from the start here!

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[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads 'Masked Omens'.

Image 2 - Twitter trending topics. For full transcription, see below the cut.

Image 3 - A hand holding a copy of News World Weekly, dated Saturday 2nd January 2021. The front page and part of the back page are visible. Full image description and transcription below the cut.]

Twitter What's Happening 1. Politics – Yesterday Former Transport Secretary Lawrence Richmond calls for end to OAP 'Freedom Passes' 2. Politics – Trending #NOT2OLD2VOTE 2,202 Tweets 3. Trending in United Kingdom The Masked Singer 2,617 Tweets 4. Trending in United Kingdom #BONFIRE 1,580 Tweets 5. Trending in United Kingdom DFS Sale 5,809 Tweets 6. Rap – Trending P-White: From CBBC to the Grammys 7. E-GATE (verified) – Last night Bagman wedding: will the striker's foodless reception set a new trend? Trending with Dr Raven Sable, Chow Show More

News World Weekly – Saturday, 2nd January 2021 Front Page [Side ad:] NOW BOOKING FOR SPRING & SUMMER 2021 “BLEW ME AWAY” CELESTIAL OBSERVER “NEVER SEEN A SHOW LIKE IT” INFERNAL TIMES “YOU HAVE TO SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT” TADFIELD GAZETTE THE AMAZING [obscured by thumb]-ll [obscured]-UND [obscured]-ITH [obscured]-RACULOUS FEATS OF ESCAPOLOGY HYPNOSIS CONJURING AND MANY MORE MARVELS BOOK NOW

[Masthead:] NEWS WORLD WEEKLY Mockup by DailyMockup £1.20 Saturday, 2nd January 2021

[Top bar:] DIET DOCTOR Lose weight the easy way with 10 top tips from Dr. Raven Sable - page 9 – Meal plans and more! SPORTS Esther James leads England Women to Six Nations Victory – back page – Jane Adams scores most tries MUSIC Has “Narrative Devices” made folk music cool again? - page 28 - HOROSCOPES by TV's Madame Tracy - page 12 -

[Main story:] WAR RAGES ON IN WESTERN CELESTAN Military presence increase as rebels approach university city of Ghadon [Image: Troops ride in military transport vehicle, their backs to the camera. End ID.] Photo by Diego Gonzalez on Unsplash CELESTANI ARMED FORCES “MUST ACT NOW”, SAYS TOP OFFICIAL [Image: Small close-up photo of Carmine Zugiber, a white woman with red hair and a solemn expression. End ID] War Correspondent – Carmine Zugiber It is unusual for a war correspondent to receive a telephone call on the way to the airport. As a rule, departing journalists are not favoured with exclusive information – certainly not without having to work for it. It was with some surprise and trepidation, then, that I agreed to meet a mysterious contact in the departure lounge for a brief interview about Celestan's domestic situation. For those of you who are not familiar with the conflict currently raging within the borders of this once proud nation, allow me to give you an overview. Rebels in the west of the country – particularly the Ferran Hills and Celestan's third-largest city, Nori – became unhappy with the decisions made for the country by officials in the east. After months of largely peaceful protests which fell upon deaf ears, many in the western reaches of Celestan began to call for independence – an independent state of Fernor, which would encompass most of the western half of the current nation. Peaceful protests turned into skirmishes, skirmishes became all-out guerrilla war, and now the rebel armies are sweeping through the countryside at an astonishing pace. The official who contacted me on my final day in Celestan was Gabriel Herald, a high-ranking civil servant of the variety that does not state his job title upon introduction. “It's becoming increasingly clear that the situation in Celestan is becoming untenable,” he told me, adding that I ought not to publish this article until I was back in London for my own safety. “The rebels are destroying the very land they lay claim to, and nobody in Government has the appetite for a long, drawn-out war. If there is a way to stop the fighting, naturally, we intend to take it.” When pressed on what that might mean, he explained that various options were being considered. “Our priority at the present time is to protect the eastern half of the country, where the effects of the insurgency have not yet been felt. Residents of central Celestan can expect to see an increased military presence, but I want Celestani citizens to rest assured that the Government will not permit the entire country to be laid waste to, as the western reaches have been.” Was there any truth, I asked, to the rumours that the Celestani Government were considering acquiescing to the rebels' demands and establishing an independent state of Fernor? “I can't comment on that at this time,” Herald told me, “but should Operation Lestern become necessary, citizens should take comfort in the knowledge that we are prepared for all eventualities and will protect and will protect our people from any and all consequences it is within our power to control.” Since this interview took place three weeks ago, the situation in central Celestan has developed, and it was unclear whether releasing this article was in the best interests of the people. However, it is now crucial that all parties understand the situation, and as a result the decision was taken to print it in (Continued page 2.)

[Left-hand column:] Inside your paper today... MASKED SINGER BOOSTS VETERAN YOUTUBER'S HIT COUNT It's no secret that ITV's The Masked Singer is a sensational hit, but some competitors may not be entirely prepared for its success. Week One saw an unlikely star unmasked in the form of Sergeant Shadwell, the man behind the popular YouTube channel Wytchfynder. In videos uploaded to the channel twice a week, Shadwell embarks on daring urban explorations and paranormal investigations in order to debunk all manner of conspiracy theories, urban legends, and rumours. While some videos are more dynamic than others – one features Shadwell venturing into the crypt of an old church, while another consists entirely of him sitting in his armchair at home and running through the evidence for an [sic] against his next-door neighbour being a witch – Shadwell, who retired from the army twenty years ago, says hits on all his uploads have doubled since his unmasking. “I get a lot of comments now along the lines of 'this story rings a bell',” he admitted to our reporter. “It wound me up at first, but now I'm just enjoying the surge in interest. We must always be vigilant in our fight against charlatans and misinformation.” (Continued on page 13.)

MP RICHMOND BRANDED “BUS PASS BANDIT” Lawrence Richmond, MP for Toffley South, came under renewed fire for his proposal to scrap the Freedom Pass system that allows older people and children to travel by bus or train for no charge. “We have an enormous budget deficit that needs addressing,” Richmond told the House of Commons yesterday, “if people don't want to buy tickets, they can drive their own cars instead.” Richmond, who lives in an historic 12-bedroom manor house with his wife Victoria and son Horace, has encountered staunch opposition from his political opponents, but his own (continued on page 7.)

COMPETITION: YOUR CHANCE TO WIN NEW NUTTER SET Be among the first to own a full set of the newly-redesigned Agnes Nutter books, including beloved favourites such as Picking the Winner, Time to Shine, Burn and Out with a Bang by entering our competition. Nutter herself said of the new covers, “I've always had a special place in my heart for my first novel, Picking the Winner, but this new cover is so vibrant and captures the spirit of the story so perfectly that I think I prefer it to the old one!” Agnes Nutter's new novel, Blown Out of Proportion, is due out in August and is not included in the prize. (Enter on page 22.)

Back page [Only the very edge of the page is visible.] -PORTS -VICTORY -JAMES' SIDE” -ADAMS SMASHES -APTAIN'S RECORD -hile Esther James may be the -tain of the England Women's -gby Team, her teammate and -artner Jane Adams has just -shed her record for the most -es scored in a single season. -ams' stunning performance -sterday's 36-16 victory over -nd saw her score her 11th and -try of the season – overtaking -iend James, who has no for -eleven tries for the national squad this year. -asked for comment, Adams -characteristically modest; -just an honour to be a -such a phenomenal team -score tries with that team. -team effort, definitely.” -es was more effusive; -know I think Jane's the -credible woman. Now -he stats prove it.” -DIT PULSIFER -VAR ROW -the first time, football -tor Newton Pulsifer has -d to fans after having a --air dispute with the -stant Referee during -'s Premier League -est Ham U [The rest of the article is obscured by the hand holding the paper.]

End of transcription.

[carolina-bleus]

Change of Heart: Carolina-Bleus

“Lisa, Mr. Johnson just received his right-to-sue letter and has decided to go forward with his Title VII claim. I need you to get a courier over to his home today and pick up the letter and some other documents he forgot to bring to our last meeting. I want to start working on his complaint today.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Richardson. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I-“ Michonne was interrupted by buzzing coming from her desk. She smiled at the caller id. “Lisa, could you hold all of my calls until further notice?”

“Absolutely.”

Michonne disconnected from Lisa and picked up her cell. “Hey, sweetie. How was your day?”

“Hey, Mama! It was good. I got an ‘A’ on my math test.”

“That’s excellent, Andre! We’ll have to celebrate with a scoop of Big Cat ice cream when we get home.”

“When are you coming home?”

Michonne sighed, knowing that her son wouldn’t be happy with her answer. “I have something I really need to work on for a client, so it will probably be after dinner.”

“So I have to stay with Aunt Jacqui and Uncle Tyreese until then?”

“I thought you liked spending time there with your cousins?”

“I do, but it’s not the same as being home with you.”

“I know, Peanut, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you this weekend. We can spend Saturday doing whatever you like.”

“That’s fine, Mama. I know you can’t help it. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay, sweetie. Bye. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mama. Bye.”

Michonne waited for Andre to end the call and then sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. Opening my own firm was supposed to give me more time with Andre, not less.

A light tapping on her office door interrupted Michonne’s thoughts. She opened her eyes and sat up. “Come in, Lisa.”

“Guess again.” Sasha popped her head in with a big smile before walking into Michonne’s office.

“Oh, hey. Sorry, I thought you were Lisa bringing me something.”

“She just stepped away from her desk as I was walking up so that’s the only reason I could get in here unannounced. She guards this place like Fort Knox.”

“Yeah, Lisa doesn’t play,” Michonne said with a laugh. “So what brings you by?”

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop in to see my sister-friend. How are you doing?”

Michonne’s older sister, Jacqui, was married to Sasha’s older brother, Tyreese. The couple had been married for years and dated many years before that. Sasha and Michonne had become like sisters themselves as a result.

“I’m fine.”

Sasha squinted at her friend before taking a seat in front of Michonne’s desk. “That wasn’t very convincing. What’s going on Chonnie?”

“It’s Dre.”

“Is he okay?” Sasha asked in concern.

“He’s fine. I just talked to him and had to tell him I’d be home late...again. He doesn’t like always having to go to Jacqui and Tyreese’s after school.”

“I can understand that. There’s nothing like your own home.”

“Rub salt in the wound there, friend.”

“I’m not trying to do that. I’m just saying I get it.”

“I’d love to be able to pick him up and be home with him after school but I can’t do that. Hell, I can’t even have dinner with him some days.” Michonne shook her head in frustration. “I left my other firm and started this one so I would have more say over my schedule and the cases I took so that I could have more time with Dre.”

“And that’s not happening.”

“I definitely have more say over my cases but I’m getting so many that they are cutting into my time with Dre. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because I wanted and needed the firm to be a success, but it’s growing faster than I’d ever hoped or expected.”

“Why don’t you hire on more people here?” Sasha suggested.

“I plan to but I don’t want to expand too quickly. More people means more salaries, more office supplies, more computers, more office space...more everything. The firm is still fairly new. I have to be smart about the moves I make. I am going start with hiring a new associate and maybe get an intern to do some basic research and document drafting. That should help ease things some at work. But---”

“That doesn’t solve the issue with Dre.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, there is one more person you could hire.”

“Sasha, I already told you—”

“Not for your firm...for your home.”

“What are you talking about? A babysitter?”

“I was thinking someone a little more permanent like a nanny.”

“A nanny?”

“Yeah. They can pick Dre up from school, take him to his different activities, make him dinner when you can’t and just be there with him at home.”

“I don’t know, Sasha,” Michonne said warily. “It feels like hiring someone to raise my child.”

“They wouldn’t be taking your place or raising your child, Michonne. It’s just someone to help out. And Dre will get to spend more time in his own home.”

Michonne thought it over. “I guess it’s not a bad idea, but I’d have to vet the hell out of this person. Not just anyone is going to be around my little peanut.”

“I didn’t expect anything less, Mama Bear. And since it was my suggestion, I want to help. I know you have your resources, but I can also get Abe to run a background check on any candidates down at the police station.”

“That would be great. Well, I’ll start looking at agencies and go from there.” 

Feeling a little better now that she had a plan in place, Michonne decided to tease her friend some. “Abe, huh? I noticed his name has been coming up a lot more lately. Are you two...?”

Sasha sighed and rolled her eyes. “No. We are just friends. I’m not dating any more guys with civil service jobs.”

“So I shouldn’t try to hook you up with Shaun the mailman? He fills those walking shorts out like nobody’s business.”

Sasha picked up a paper clip from the desk and threw it at Michonne. “You got jokes I see. You know what I mean.”

Michonne sobered. “I do. I was just trying to keep your mind from going there. You can’t shut yourself off because of what happened to Bob.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Michonne.”

“Okay. I’ll let it go for now.”

“Thank you.” Sasha stood up to leave.” I have to get to work. When you get some names together, just give them to me and I’ll pass them along to Abe. I’ll talk to you later.”

Michonne watched Sasha make her way to the door. “Sasha.”

Sasha paused without turning around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for the suggestion and looking out for Dre.”

“No problem. And Michonne?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

“No problem.”

Sasha turned and shared a smile with Michonne before heading out of the office.

Michonne buzzed Lisa at her desk. She hoped she was back. “Lisa?”

“Yes, Ms. Richardson?”

“Could you look up some staffing agencies that specialize in nannies?”

“Sure. How soon do you need the list?”

“As soon as possible. Oh and you can resume my calls. Thanks.” 

Michonne turned her seat to face the city view. A nanny...I hope I’m making the right decision.

“NERD ALERT! NERD ALERT! Fellas, we got a Poindexter on the premises!” Shane shouted out to the table full of police officers, firefighters, and EMTs.

Rick smiled good-naturedly as his friends laughed at Shane’s antics. He took a seat and waited for them to quiet down.

“I’m glad I can be a source of amusement for y’all.”

Shane clapped his best friend on the back. “And I certainly do appreciate it, Rick. You’ve been providing me with solid material since kindergarten.”

“Don’t act like we don’t have dirt on you, Shane. I seem to remember a certain incident where they brought in that lady in a witch costume for Halloween when we were in first grade and you got so scared that you hid behind Miss Pierson’s skirts and peed all over the floor.”

“Shut up, T-Dog. My mama said I had a condition back then that I had to grow out of,” Shane defended.

“Yeah, it was called Pissy-itis. Didn’t you have a flare-up at summer camp when we were in the sixth grade?”

While the others turned their laughter on Shane, Teddy shot Rick a quick wink. Rick nodded his thanks for Teddy setting Shane straight.

Teddy “T-Dog” Douglas, Rick Grimes, and Shane Walsh had been best friends since childhood. While Shane thought himself the group leader, it was Teddy who kept their group together and served as the balance between boisterous Shane and the more laid-back Rick.

“Whatever, man.” Shane dismissed Teddy and turned to Rick. “I’m surprised you could make it. Lately, you’ve either been too busy studying or working to hang out with us. What’s the special occasion?”

“I needed a drink tonight. I just found out that I’m out of a job.”

Shane immediately turned serious. While he had his obnoxious moments, he genuinely cared about his friends. “That’s messed up, man. What happened?”

“Well, since it’s a nonprofit, they rely a lot on grants and donations. They told me today that they were shifting the focus of the program and the grant for my position won’t be renewed. I have six weeks to find another job.”

“Can’t you just live off of the money your grandmama left you?” Shane asked.

“She left me good money and it’s helping me pay for school without taking out loans, but I don’t want to just rely on that. I still need to supplement my other expenses. Working part-time with the foundation helped with that.”

Rick was a former police officer, turned graduate student. He was pursuing his master’s degree in psychology. He eventually wanted to get his doctorate in clinical psychology and counsel children, particularly those whose lives had been disrupted by crime...be they crimes perpetrated against them or crimes committed by a parent against others. His years as a cop had left him keenly aware of the fact that the impact of crime on children was long-lasting and not always given the attention it deserved. He wanted to do what he could to help the smallest voices be heard.

Going back to school wouldn’t have been fathomable if not for Rick’s late maternal grandmother. Before she passed, she had encouraged Rick to pursue his career passion and left him with the means to do so in her will.

“So what are you going to do, Rick? We’d always be glad to have you back at the station. You say the word and I’ll get things moving for you,” Abe Ford offered.

“Thanks, but there’s no way I could do that and go to school full-time. I’m really looking for something like I’m doing now that offers me experience working with kids and has flexible hours that allow me to get my schoolwork and studying done.”

“We’ll all keep an ear out for you, Rick.”

“I appreciate that, Abe.”

Shane clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, now if we are done with the career counseling, can we take advantage of the fact that Rick has decided to rejoin the living tonight? I say we celebrate. And to show what a good friend I am, I will buy the first round of drinks—”

A shout of approval went up over the table.

“Y’all’s cheap asses didn’t let me finish. I’m buying the first round for Rick’s soon-to-be unemployed ass. The rest of y’all have jobs so buy your own damn drinks,” Shane said as he walked off to the bar.

“Here you go.”

Rick looked up from scrolling through a job site and grabbed the Jack and Coke from Shane. He immediately took a sip. “Thanks, Shane.”

“No problem, man,” Shane said as he plopped back into his seat. “I just want you to know that everything is going to work out...with your job and everything. You’ve worked too hard for it not to.”

“Shane Walsh being supportive? I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Shut up and finish your drink. I know you have to drink away your sorrows since your no game having ass doesn’t have a woman to suck them away.”

“And regular Shane is back,” Rick added with a laugh.

“Look, I know I give you a lot of shit, but I’m proud of you and what you’re doing.”

Rick nodded his thanks before asking, “Why do you give me so much shit about school and pretty much everything else?”

“Hey, man, what can I say? I’m an asshole, but my heart’s in the right place.”

“I’ll make sure they put that on your tombstone because that is Shane Walsh in a nutshell.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Rick laughed. “I love you, too, brother.”

“Wow, Michonne, you actually beat me to dinner for once? Let me look outside and make sure there aren’t any pigs flying around.” Sasha pretended to peer through one of the restaurant’s large windows facing the water.

“Sasha, you act as if I’m always late.”

“Eh, not always but your track record of tardiness is pretty good.”

“I’m a busy woman. Now sit down so we can order. I’m starving.”

“That’s because you don’t eat like you should at work.”

“Sasha, I’ll leave your love life alone if you’ll let me handle my work life.”

“Fine...let’s talk about your love life...or lack thereof.”

“My love life is fine. I don’t have time for much else besides taking care of Dre and making sure my firm is a success.”

“And you’re doing great on both counts, Michonne,” Sasha assured her friend.

“I’m doing great with work. But if I was doing a great job with Dre, I wouldn’t be handing you this list right now.” Michonne reached into her bag and pulled out a large manila envelope. “Here are the names and information of the final candidates for the nanny position.”

Sasha took the envelope and secured it in her bag before continuing. “Those must be some A plus candidates you settled on because it’s taken three weeks to get my hands on those names.”

“I just wanted to make sure I have the best options. I’m not just going to have any and everyone around my son for hours on end.”

“Oh, I’m totally with you on that. I’ll get these down to Abe before my shift starts at the firehouse tomorrow.”

“I still don’t see how you do those twenty-four hour shifts.”

Sasha shrugged. “I’ve been doing them for a while now, so I’ve gotten used to it. And I’ll have the next two days off after that so I can’t complain too much. Plus, I just really love what I do.” She smiled sadly. “My job has brought a lot of good things and good people into my life.”

Michonne knew Sasha was thinking about her fiancé, Bob Stookes. Bob was an EMT that Sasha met while responding to call. Bob’s quick wit and positive outlook on all things quickly won Sasha over and the two began dating soon after they met. They’d been engaged to be married when Bob was killed while aiding a victim during a domestic disturbance call. It had been nearly two years and Sasha hadn’t been able to move forward. She’d tried. She’d even moved closer to family and started work at a new fire department after Bob’s death, but she hadn’t been able to leave behind those emotions from the night she received that life changing phone call.

Michonne placed a hand over Sasha’s. “Sasha when I talk to you about moving on with your life, being happy and dating again, I hope you know that I’m not trying to tell you to forget Bob and all that he means to you. I’m just saying that he wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life mourning him. That’s not how Bob lived and he wouldn’t want you to do that either. He’d want you to be happy.”

Sasha moved her hand to wipe at a stray tear. “I know you mean well, Michonne. But it’s a little hard for me to take advice from you when you don’t even follow it yourself. Mike walked out years ago and you still haven’t moved on. Are you waiting for him to walk back into your and Dre’s life?”

Michonne sat back angrily. “If he wants to be part of his son’s life, then that could perhaps be arranged...if he’s changed. But our life together as a couple and a family is over. I could forgive and forget if he had just walked out on me. But he left our son and has never looked back. I can’t forgive that.”

“Mike was the one who did wrong, so why are you punishing yourself?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He left because his fragile ego couldn’t handle that your career was progressing faster than his. He couldn’t handle that you were the breadwinner and he was the stay-at-home dad. That was all on him. But you’ve locked yourself off from pursuing anything that doesn’t directly benefit Dre or your career because of Mike’s shortcomings. How is that fair to you?”

“I think a part of Mike thought I would fail if he left me trying to juggle my career and a toddler, but I made it. My career flourished. Andre has flourished. And---”

“And you have made yourself your last priority. Your happiness counts for something, too, Michonne. And I think Dre cares more about having a happy mother than a successful one.”

“I can be both.”

“But are you both?”

“Sasha, I don’t need a man to be happy.”  

“Michonne I never said anything about a man. You just did. All I’m saying is that you need to focus on yourself more and find some happiness outside of being a successful lawyer and amazing mother. You need to stop neglecting yourself, Michonne.”

That threw Michonne for a loop. She was extremely happy with how her career was going. And aside from not being able to spend as much time as she would like with Andre, she was happy with the young man her son was becoming. But, personally, she did miss having someone to share everything with...the triumphs and the tragedies. She thought she’d had that with Mike and had been sorely mistaken.

Michonne mentally shook off the conversation because she just wasn’t ready to deal with any of it yet and grabbed her menu. “I don’t think either of us came here for a therapy session. How about we save this for another day, get some good food, gossip about Andrea’s scandalous love life and call it a night?”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had in a while,” Sasha agreed as she picked up her own menu.

“All of my ideas are amazing, Sasha.”

Sasha scoffed. “Uh, what about your idea to do our own eyebrows when we were in high school?”

Michonne laughed at the memory. “I did a great job on mine. I didn’t tell you to go ham on your brows with the tweezers.”

“I ended up looking like a Vulcan!”

“But you were a cute Vulcan. All the guys in Science Club wanted to date you.”

Sasha flipped Michonne the bird before looking at her menu.

Bright and early the next day, Sasha walked into the police station hoping to catch Abe before his shift ended. She spotted him standing at the front desk.

“Abe!”

Abe turned and greeted Sasha with a big, tired smile on his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this early in the morning?”

“What? No inappropriate comment?”

“It’s too early and I’m too tired. But I promise to give it to you good the next time I see you to make up for lost time.” Abe winked.

Sasha shook her head with a smile. “Before you head out, I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

Sasha handed Abe the envelope full of candidate info. “My best friend is looking for a nanny for her son. He’s very special to me and I was hoping you could run a deep background check on the candidates for the job. I have to make sure he’s in good hands.”

“Of course.” Abe opened the envelope and began flipping through the pages. “Well, not a looker to be found. They certainly won’t inspire any good source material when I get home.”

“Abe.”

“Just a little joke,” Abe murmured before closing the envelope and looking at Sasha. “How soon does your friend need it?”

“As soon as possible would be great. Michonne wants a nanny in place sooner rather than later.”

“Mee-shawn? That sounds exotic.”

“Say that to her and it won’t end well.”

“She sounds feisty. I like that in a woman.” Abe looked at Sasha pointedly before continuing. “Why is she looking for a nanny? What is she, some rich woman who needs more time to improve her tennis strokes?”

“Hardly. She’s a single mother and successful lawyer. It’s getting harder to do everything on her own so she’s looking for someone to pick Dre up from school and be at home with him until she can get there.”

That got Abe thinking. “Hmmm. How old is Dre?”

“He turns eight in a few months? Why?”

“I thought you were talking about a baby, but I think Rick can handle a soon-to-be eight-year-old.”

“Abe, what are you talking about?”

“I have a friend, a former cop, named Rick Grimes. He left the force about a year ago to go back to school full-time and get a graduate degree in psychology. He was working with kids at a nonprofit, but his position is up in a couple of weeks. If the nanny would just be needed in the afternoons and evenings, I think this would be right up Rick’s ally.”

Sasha thought for a moment. “Rick Grimes? I remember running into him a couple of times during calls my first year at the firehouse here. He was always nice and helpful. You know him pretty well?”

“He’s a real good friend of mine and one of the best guys I know. This would be a win-win for him and your friend. I mean she doesn’t have to worry about anybody messing with Dre with Rick around.”

“I’d have to talk to Michonne. I don’t know if male nannies were even on her radar.”

“Well, that’s mighty sexist of her.”

Sasha eyed Abe. “You would know.”

“I think you’re confusing sexist with sexy.”

“Yeah, Abe, that’s exactly it,” Sasha said dryly.  “Look, could you get Rick’s information for me and have it ready ASAP? I’m going to try and smooth the way for him with Michonne.”

“Will do.” Abe offered Sasha an arm. “Now, let me walk you down to the firehouse and show those guys what a real specimen looks like.”

Sasha ignored Abe’s arm and started walking out of the station. “Your body might be tired but your mouth is working overtime. Bye, Abe. And thanks.”

“You are mighty welcome, Miss Sasha Williams.”

Before heading home, Abe decided to stop over at Rick’s apartment.

“Hey, Abe. What’s going on?”

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase because I’m more worn out than a mattress at a swingers’ club. I think I found you a job.”

“Come on in.” Rick stepped back to let Abe enter. “You want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m good.” Abe took a seat on the couch while Rick sat in his recliner. “Do you remember Sasha Williams? She’s a firefighter over at the Libby Street Station. She said she met you a couple of years ago?”

“Yeah. We worked a few of the same calls.”

“Well her best friend is looking for a nanny.”

“A nanny!” Rick started shaking his head. “Abe, I don’t think—”

“Just hear me out. This isn’t for a little baby. The kid is eight years old. His mother is a single parent looking for someone to pick him up after school and stay with him until she gets home in the evenings. She’s a lawyer so she’ll probably pay pretty good. And you can’t beat the schedule.”

“When I said I wanted to work with kids, being a babysitter wasn’t on the list of jobs.”

“I’m sure she’ll have you doing other stuff, I’m just giving you a rough rundown. It’s perfect, Rick. And it starts soon. All I need you to do is give me your information so I can pass it on along.”

“Well, I am running out of options and maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Let me print out a copy of my resume.”

Abe leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. “Alright. Put that printer on lightning speed so I can get out of here before I fall asleep or else you’ll have a redheaded roommate for the next few hours.”  

Rick stood in his office waiting for his resume to finishing printing. I hope this is the right move.

“Good job, Peanut!” Michonne turned to Andrea in the stands. “Did you see that? Dre just scored a goal!”

Andrea looked up from her phone. “Oh shit! I missed it? He didn’t even have the ball when I glanced down to check a message. These kids move fast.”

“If you put your phone away and paid attention, you wouldn’t miss anything.”

“Michonne, I am here for Dre and Dre only. If he’s not kicking the ball, I’m not paying attention.”

“I’m surprised you even made it. You and Saturday mornings don’t usually mix.”

“Dre begged me to come and you know how hard it is to say ‘no’ to him. I’d do anything for that little guy.”

“I definitely know the feeling. That’s the only reason why I agreed to this whole nanny thing.”

“How is that going?”

“Sasha is supposed to bring me the information on the finalists today. Then I’ll start setting up interviews for next week.”

“Have you told Dre about this yet?”

“Yeah. I want him to be there for part of the interviews. I need to see who Dre feels most comfortable with and how they interact with him.”

“That makes sense. Because I’d really hate to have to hurt somebody for not treating him right.”

Michonne laughed. “You sound like Jacqui. She said she’d catch a case if somebody laid hands on Dre.”

“For once, Jacqui and I agree on something.”

After the game, Michonne pulled into her driveway to find Sasha sitting in the swing on her front porch.

“Hey, Sasha,” Michonne greeted while getting out the car. “Why didn’t you use your key?”

“I just got here a little while ago. I decided to enjoy the nice morning while I wait. Hey Andrea.”

“Hey Sasha.”

Dre jumped out of the car and ran up to Sasha. “Hey Aunt Sasha! Guess what?”

“What?”

“We won and I scored a goal!”

“Great job, Dre! Gimme a hug.”

“I’m kind of sweaty though.”

“I don’t mind.” Sasha grabbed her nephew up in a big hug that had him giggling before she set him back on the ground. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there this morning.”

“That’s okay. I know you can’t be there when you have to save people.”

Michonne opened the front door and motioned everyone in. “Dre, sweetie. Go on and wash up and then we’ll go out to lunch.”

“Okay, Mama. See ya in a little bit.” Dre yelled as he ran up the stairs.

“Sasha, do you have the information for me?”

“I do. Let’s go into the kitchen. I need some coffee this morning.”

Once they were seated around the island, Sasha slid the packet over to Michonne. “Everyone checked out so you should be good to go with setting up interviews. But there is one additional candidate I think you should look at.”

Michonne looked up from the papers. “Who is that?”

“A man named Rick Grimes. He used to be a cop. He’s going to grad school now to become a child psychologist. I worked with him a few times and he’s nice. His resume is at the end in the pile.”

Michonne took a moment to read over the document. “He looks great on paper, but why would he want to work as a nanny?”

“I don’t know all of the details but apparently his other job is ending soon and he’s looking for something similar that allows him to work with kids and has hours that work with his school schedule.”

Andrea reached over and grabbed the paper from Michonne. “Where is his picture? All the other applicants provided a photo. I need to see if this dude passes the weirdo test and to see if he’s worth putting in my dating pool.”

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like, Andrea.” Michonne took the resume back. “I’m not sure if I even want a male nanny. It’s just not something I’m used to.”

Sasha scoffed. “Are you serious right now, Michonne?”

“I’m completely serious.”

“You make a living out of helping people fight against employment discrimination and you are going to discriminate against someone because of their sex. That’s very hypocritical of you.”

“She’s got you there, Michonne.” Andrea chimed in. “Besides, maybe Dre would prefer to have a male nanny as opposed to some of those Mrs. Doubtfire stand-ins the agency suggested. You should at least let the man interview.”

“Fine, I’ll have Lisa set up an interview. But it will probably be a waste of both of our time. I doubt he’ll even want the job.”

Three interviews down and Michonne was ready to throw in the towel. Thus far, none of the candidates had lived up to their resumes.

Michonne sighed and rubbed her temples. “I feel like we are being catfished nanny style.”

“You seriously need to call the Better Business Bureau on that agency. Those nannies they recommended have been horrible. Did they even read your requirements? I thought the first lady was going to explode when she found out this wasn’t a live-in position. Why was she so upset about not being able to live here? That’s a thief in the making right there. You’d have to break out the nanny cam on her ass.”

“Jacqui, this agency was supposed to be the best one in the area. I told them exactly what I needed. I don’t know how it got so screwed up.”

“Well, screwed up is putting it mildly. The blonde chick gave me Single White Female vibes. She was just a little too attentive to you and Dre. If you’d hired her, it would only be a matter of time before she came in here wearing a dreadlock wig, too much bronzer, and asking Dre to call her ‘mama.’”

“She wasn’t that bad, Jacqui. But Dre didn’t seem to like her so she’s out anyway. What about Mrs. Addams that just left? What did you think of her?”

“I think the last kids she probably cared for are collecting social security checks as we speak. Mrs. Addams was 82 if she was a day. That crooked jet-black wig wasn’t fooling anybody. Coming in here looking like a black Betty Boop with them drawn on eyebrows. There is no way she can keep up with Dre. He’d end up taking care of her and that wig.”

“Calm down, Jacqui.”

“Michonne, you know I can’t abide by messiness, especially when it comes to my family.”

“We have two last interviews. One more person from the agency and that Grimes man Sasha recommended. Hopefully, one of them will be the right fit.”

“They better be the right fit. If not, I’m going to make sure my size six shoe fits right upside somebody’s head down at that agency.”

Michonne stared at her sister in amusement. “Why did I ever ask you to join me for these interviews?”

“Cause you know I don’t play.”

“Could you just go get the next candidate please?”

“Sarah, I see you have an undergraduate degree in child development.”

“Yes, I graduated with honors. The course of study was interdisciplinary and focused on child development from birth through adolescence. We delved into child psychology, education, sociology and so much more. I have great insight as to not only how children develop physiologically but also the psychological and sociological influences that impact their development along the way.”

“Are you planning on furthering your education or is being a nanny a lifelong career path for you?”

“I plan to keep up with the latest developments in the field and eventually have my own agency full of well-qualified and educated nannies such as myself. But, at this point in my life, I’m focused on providing the best care to the children under my charge.”

“You’re aware that this position is not live-in?”

“Yes, that’s one of the things that drew me to the position. I just got married, so I kind of want to live with my husband,” Sarah said with a laugh.

“There may be some evenings where you have to stay quite late if I have a business engagement or even some overnights, if I have a trial or seminar out of town. Will that be a problem?”

“Absolutely not. That is all expected when one chooses to become a nanny.”

“Are you fine with the rate of pay for this position?”

“Yes. It is in line with the other positions I’ve held.”

“Okay. Well, do you have any questions for me?”

“Well, I was wondering if I would be able to meet Andre? It’s great if the parents like me, but if the child doesn’t, then this will not work. He is the client in a very large sense.”

Michonne smiled at Sarah’s words. “Actually, that was the next part of the interview. Come on, Andre is in his playroom.”

 After showing Sarah out, Michonne turned to Jacqui. “Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t have anything bad to say. She was pretty damn good. She has the background and experience. Plus, and most importantly, Dre seemed to really like her. She might be it.”

“I think so, too.” Michonne looked at her watch. “Rick Grimes should be here in thirty minutes. He’s going to have to be just about perfect to beat out Sarah.”

Michonne was on her way to freshen up when the doorbell rang. “Jacqui, I need to run to the bathroom. That’s probably Mr. Grimes. Could you answer that for me?”

“No problem, Chonnie.”

Jacqui walked into the foyer and opened the door. What she saw standing on the other side left her in a rare condition...speechless.

“Hi, Miss Richardson? I’m Rick Grimes. I’m here for the nanny interview.”

“...”

“Miss Richardson, are you okay? Did something happen?” Rick’s cop instincts kicked in and he started surveying the area for any issues.

Jacqui finally found her voice. “Uh...everything is fine...very fine. I’m Jacqueline Renee Williams but you can call me Jacqui.” Miss Jacqui if you nasty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”. 

Rick held out his hand to Jacqui. “I’m Richard Sutton Grimes and it’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Miss Jacqui.”

Oooh, he nasty! 

Jacqui shook Rick’s hand while giving him a discrete once-over. Lawd, Tyreese better be glad I love his wonderful and cuddly thick ass. 

“You’ll be interviewing with my sister, Michonne. Come on in and I’ll take you to her.” Jacqui watched Rick walk past her before she closed the door. Oooh, and he’s bowlegged, too.

“Right this way, Mr. Grimes.”

“You can call me Rick.”

If I were single, I’d call you Daddy. 

“Okay...Rick.”

Walking down the hallway, Rick wondered if Miss Richardson was anything like her sister, Jacqui. If so, he was in for a handful.

Michonne glanced at her watch once again, wondering what was taking Jacqui so long to bring Mr. Grimes back. She looked up when she heard them finally enter the room and immediately knew what the holdup was. It was Rick Grimes.

From the top of his curly head to the bottom of his cowboy boot clad feet, Rick Grimes was the most handsome man Michonne had ever seen. He looked like he belonged on a television or movie screen, not applying to be her son’s nanny.

When he walked into a study and Michonne Richardson looked up, Rick knew he was in trouble. He was staring at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Rick and Michonne locked eyes and neither could tear themselves away. Jacqui sat back and looked between the two with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Michonne? Rick? Are y’all ready to start the interview or do you need more time to memorize each other’s faces?”

Michonne was the first to snap out of it. “What did you say, Jacqui?”

“I asked if y’all were ready to start the interview?”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Grimes, I’m Michonne Richardson. Thank you for coming in today.” Michonne smiled, reached for Rick Grimes’ hand and tried to ignore the feeling that ran through her at the contact. Michonne released Rick’s hand and motioned to a chair. “If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Grimes, we can begin.”

Rick reluctantly released Michonne’s hand and had a seat. “Please, call me Rick.”

“Sure. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself, Rick.”

Rick chuckled. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not much more interesting than what you see on paper. But, here we go. I’m a small-town guy...Georgia born and bred. I guess I always had a desire to help those most in need from the time I was little. My family has a farm and I would always adopt the smallest little guy in any litter. I hated seeing anyone or anything being taken advantage of or mistreated. That’s a big reason why I became a police officer and why I want to become a psychologist and work with children impacted by crime. Everyone should have a person in their corner that makes them feel cared about and protected. I imagine that’s what drew you to the law.”

“How did you know I was an attorney?”

“My friend, Abe, mentioned it to me when he told me about the job.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, that’s exactly why I went into law. Most people assume lawyers go into law strictly for the money. But, that was never my motivation. Now, I mostly represent individuals who have suffered discrimination in employment. Most of those cases don’t even go to court and those that do rarely get a huge payout. The big money is in what I used to do, which was defending employers, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do that anymore. They have more than enough people willing to do their dirty work. But for plaintiffs, oftentimes, I’m their last hope. It’s a lot of pressure but-“

“But it’s worth it and means more than any dollar amount,” Rick finished.

“Exactly.”

Rick and Michonne shared a smile before Jacqui discretely cleared her throat.

“Um, Rick,” Michonne continued “Do you have a lot of experience working with children?”

“I was a counselor at the Boys and Girls Club throughout high school and college. I started an after-school program at the department for local kids while I was a policeman. I still volunteer with it. Most recently, I worked with a nonprofit that focuses on children who are direct and indirect victims of abuse.”

“That’s the position that’s being phased out?” At the question in Rick’s eyes, Michonne explained, “My best friend, Sasha, gave me a little background information on you.”

“We have some talkative friends.”

“So it would seem,” Michonne agreed with a chuckle.

“But, unfortunately, yes my position and several others are no longer going to be funded. But that’s my professional background. On the personal side, I have lots of experience with kids as well.”

Michonne braced herself.

“I come from a very large family and have nieces and nephews that are younger, older, and the same age as I am. That’s country living for you.”

Michonne heard Jacqui, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, let out a breath at Rick’s words. She glanced at her sister who just shrugged.

“Rick, why exactly are you interested in this position?”

“Well, as you know, my current job is going to end soon. This job seemed like the perfect opportunity to step into. I get to continue working with kids but it’s not on a live-in basis, so I could craft my school schedule around your son’s.”

“Did you have any specific questions about the position?”

“Aside from picking Andre up from school and being with him at home in the evenings, what else would the job entail? I can help with homework. Shuttle him to after-school activities. And I’m a pretty good cook if you needed me to make him dinner sometimes.”

“That’s actually exactly what I had in mind except the cooking...that’s just an unexpected bonus. So how good are you at math? Like most attorneys, math is my nemesis.”

Rick laughed. “I’m great at math. Creative writing was my downfall in school.”

“Well, writing is obviously a strong suit of mine. I think between the two of us, Dre should be okay.”

“Yeah, I think we’d make a great team...if I get the job, of course.”

“Yes, if you get the job.” Michonne looked up and saw a small figure peeking into the study. “Andre Anthony, you can come in now.”

Rick watched as a four-foot ball of energy ran into the room and stopped right in front of him.

“Hi, my name is Andre.”

“Hello, Andre. My name is Rick. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Do you like comic books?”

“I do.”

“Candy?”

“Yep. Big Cats are my favorite.”

Andre’s eyes lit up. “That’s my favorite. Mama’s, too. We have the ice cream. Do you want some?”

Rick chuckled. “Maybe later. Tell me some other things that you like.”

“I like comics, and candy, and soccer, and baseball, and basketball, and trains, and books.”

“Well what do you know, I love all of those things as well. And I coach a kids’ baseball team in the spring.” Rick turned to Michonne. “I forgot to mention that but it’s on my resume.”

Michonne smiled. “No problem. I saw it.”

Rick turned back to Andre. “You ever been to the train museum downtown?”

“Yes, Mama took me last year for my birthday. Have you been?”

“Mmhmm. The model trains were my favorite.”

“Yeah, they were the best! I have a model train and track in my playroom. One of the tracks in messed up. Can you fix it for me?”

“How about we try to fix it together and that way you’ll know how to fix it if I’m not here.”

“Okay.” Andre tugged on Rick’s hand.  “Mama are you done talking to Mister Rick?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We’re going to my playroom now.” Andre pulled Rick out of the door.

When Rick and Andre were settled in the playroom, Michonne and Jacqui stood outside the door observing.

“What do you think, Jacqui?” Michonne asked lowly.

“Do you really need me to answer that question? Look at the two of them laughing in there. They are fast friends. Plus, Rick has a great background.”

“Sarah was really good, too. And Andre liked her as well.”

“That’s true, but Andre didn’t take to her like this. Plus, Sarah doesn’t fill out a pair of jeans the way Rick does.”

“Jacqui! That is so wrong, not to mention discriminatory.” Michonne whispered harshly. “Besides, if I hire Rick, it will be so he can take care of Andre, not so you can ogle him.”

“Oh, I wasn’t the one ogling him when he first came in. That would be you, little sister.”

“I was not!”

“If y’all had stared at each other any harder, your clothes would have melted off. I saw something between you.”

“Jacqui, you are just mesmerized by a good-looking man. Keep it up and I’ll tell Tyreese.”

“Oh, Tyreese knows I only have eyes for his thick ass. This is about you and the cowboy in there.”

“Jacqui, if you keep talking that way, I won’t hire him. I’m not trying to have there be any messiness.”

“You’re going to hire him because that’s what’s best for Dre,” Jacqui said confidently. “Just don’t be surprised if it also works out pretty well for you.”

Michonne turned back to the door and watched as Rick and Andre laughed while working on the toy train tracks. It was the most animated Michonne had seen her son in a while. Jacqui was right that Michonne would hire Rick because it was best for Andre.

The way he makes me feel doesn’t matter.

Rick has just made it in from the interview when his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Rick. This is Michonne Richardson.”

He knew exactly who it was. “Hey. I was going to email you when I got home, but I can just tell you now. Thanks again for the interview. It was the most enjoyable one I’ve ever had.”

“Well, thank you for applying. I spoke with Andre and weighed all the pros and cons of all of the applicants. And, if you’re still interested, I’d like to offer you the position.”

“I am very much interested! Thank you so much.”

Michonne smiled at the genuine happiness she could hear in Rick’s voice. “It was Andre who was the deciding factor. He said you were the one.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank the little guy next time I see him.”

“Speaking of, when would you be able to start?”

“I’m ready whenever you need me.”

“Umm,” Michonne cleared her throat. “Uh, I’ll email Dre’s schedule right now along with some other details and contact information and you can start on Monday. That will give me time to get you added to his official pickup list at school and his other activities.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks, again Miss Richardson.”

“Please, call me Michonne. And the number I’m calling you from now is my personal cell, so this will be the best way to get into direct contact with me.”

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday. You have a nice evening, Michonne.

“You have a nice evening as well, Rick.”

Two Months Later

Michonne perused the restaurant menu. She was having a late lunch with Sasha and Jacqui.

“How is everything going with Rick?” Sasha asked.

“It’s going well.”

That wasn’t good enough for Jacqui. “Michonne, put your menu down and give us the dirt.”

Sighing, Michonne put her menu aside and looked at Jacqui and Sasha. “There is no dirt to give. It’s going really well. Dre is happy. He absolutely adores Rick.”

“And how do you feel about him?”

“Jacqui, we aren’t going to start that again. Despite what you think you saw at the interview, Rick and I are nothing more than employer and employee. He’s there for my son and that’s it.”

Sasha leaned forward in her seat. “Wait a minute? What did Jacqui see at Rick’s interview? Michonne, you only said it went well. Y’all been holding out on me?”

Jacqui was all too eager to share the details. “Girl, let me tell you. There was so much eye sex going between those two when they first met, a proper lady would have been embarrassed and looked away.”

“So that means you kept watching and got an eyeful.”

“You damn right.”

Jacqui and Sasha burst into laughter and gave each other a high five.

Michonne was not amused. “There was no eye sex at the interview.”

Jacqui raised a brow. “Come on now, Chonnie.”

“Okay, there was but nothing has come of it and nothing will. Again, we are employer and employee and that is all we will ever be. I—”

Michonne broke off when her phone rang. She smiled at the picture that popped up. “Hey. How is everything?”

“Hey yourself. Everything is fine. I just wanted to let you know Dre and I are home. He wanted to talk to you for a minute.” Rick handed his cell over to Andre.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Hey, Peanut. You glad school let out early?”

“Yep. Rick is going to help me with my homework and then take me to the park. He said we can make pizza for dinner. I can’t wait! Are you going to be able to eat with us tonight?”

Since hiring Rick, Michonne’s practice had gotten even busier. She was glad that he was there to be at home with Andre, but she still felt guilty about missing so much time with her son.

“I’ll try my best, Peanut. Your Aunt Jacqui and Aunt Sasha are here.”

“Tell them I said hey!”

“I will, sweetie.”

“I have to go start my homework, Mama. Rick said we can’t go to the park until I finish it. Bye!”

“Bye, Peanut.” Michonne waited for Rick to get back on the line.

“Hey. I promise neither Dre nor the kitchen will be a disaster when you get home.”

“Oh, I know. You always leave the kitchen cleaner than when you found it,” Michonne said with a laugh. She ignored Jacqui and Sasha focusing on her every word. “Thanks for picking Dre up early today. I hope it didn’t mess up your schedule.”

“No, it’s fine. I brought my stuff over so I can study after we get back from the park.”

“That’s good.”

“So how has your day been so far?”

“It’s been really good.”

“Glad to hear it. What time do you think you’ll be home? Hopefully, I can keep Dre from devouring all of the pizza.”

“I’m not sure. But I’ll try to get home a little earlier so you can get going.”

“Michonne, it’s really not a problem. Hanging with Dre is one of the best parts of my day.”

“Oh really? What are the others...studying?” Michonne joked.

“Hey, studying can be fun! But I was thinking about the talks we have before I go home. The adult conversation is nice.”

“Oh,” Michonne said softly. “I enjoy those, too.”

“Well, I’ll let you go. Have a good rest of the day.”

“You, too.” Michonne held the phone a moment after Rick ended the call. She was dreading looking up at her sisters.

“Girl, you might as well put that phone down and start talking. We heard every word. You should really turn your phone volume down so nosy asses can’t listen in,” Jacqui suggested.

Michonne put her phone away. “Nosy asses like you, Jacqui?”

“Anyway, what’s this about y’all having talks at night?”

“It’s nothing. We talk about what happened during our day and then Rick goes home. End of story. Now can we eat? I need to get back to the office.”

Sasha spoke up before Jacqui could. “We’ll let it go, Michonne. But, for what it’s worth, Dre isn’t the only one who’s been looking happier lately.”

Michonne thought about Sasha’s words on her drive home later that evening. Rick had only been in their lives for a couple of months but it felt like he’d always been there. Despite Jacqui’s insinuations, Michonne and Rick really were just friends. But it was nice to have someone to come home to and share her day with...even if only for a few moments.

“Hey, where are you guys?” Michonne called out as she entered her home.

“We’re in the kitchen!” Rick yelled back.

Michonne kicked off her heels and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. She walked in to find Rick, Andre, and the kitchen island and floor surrounding it covered in flour.

“Okay, this isn’t what you think.” Rick began to explain.

“I think you two started out making pizza and ended up in a flour fight.”

“Okay, it’s exactly what you think.”

Michonne chuckled. “Do I need to hire someone to look after Dre and you, Rick?”

“No, we got it. Right, Dre?”

“Yep. We got it, Mama.”

“Mmhmm. What y’all need to get is a broom and a mop. Let me go change. I’ll handle the counters while you two get the floors.”

“Michonne, you don’t have to do that,” Rick protested.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t trust you two alone with dry goods at the moment,” Michonne said as she walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few.”

When she came back downstairs, Rick and Dre were both making fast work of cleaning the floors.

“Hey, look up you two.”

When they looked up, Michonne snapped a photo of the pair on her phone. She took a couple more of them posing before putting her phone away.

“I think those photos will be good blackmail material for Dre when he’s a teenager. I haven’t decided how I’m going to use them against you yet.”

“You’re a cold woman, Michonne,” Rick joked.

The easy smile Michonne had been wearing, faded. “So I’ve been told.”

“Michonne?” Rick was concerned at her sudden mood change.

“It’s nothing.” Michonne clapped her hands and smiled at her son. “Let’s finish cleaning so we can actually make pizza.”

When kitchen was once again spotless, Michonne sent Dre up to his bathroom to shower and change. “Rick you can shower in the guest bath upstairs and I’ll see if I can find something for you to wear.”

Rick eyed Michonne’s leggings and tank top. “I think that look works a whole lot better on you than it would on me,” he joked.

“I have some things to fit you. Let me show you where everything is.”

Rick followed Michonne out of the kitchen and up the stairs, appreciating the view from behind. Michonne stopped at the hallway linen closet upstairs.

“We don’t use loophas in this house.” Michonne stated when she handed Rick the towel and washcloth.

Rick noticed the glint in her eye and knew exactly what she was getting at. “Very funny. I use washcloths, too.”

Michonne tried to look innocent. “What?”

She could barely contain her laughter as Rick closed the bathroom door behind him. But the joke was about to be on her.

Twenty minutes later, Michonne had just sent a freshly showered and pajamas wearing Andre back downstairs when she heard the door to the guest bath open. Rick stood in the doorway holding his dirty clothes and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Michonne swallowed at the sight.

“Hey, Michonne, do you have something I can put these clothes in? I don’t want to get flour all over my car when I drive home.”

“Uh, y-yeah. I mean, don’t worry about it. I was going to throw your clothes in the wash with Dre’s. They’ll be dry before you leave. Um, I found some sweats and a t-shirt for you.” Michonne held her breath as Rick walked towards her to take the clothing.

“Thanks.” Rick offered her a smile before he turned and headed back to the bathroom.

Michonne didn’t blink or let her breath out until the bathroom door closed behind him. She rushed downstairs after Andre.

Rick walked into the kitchen wearing the borrowed clothes. “I put my clothes in the washing machine with Dre’s and started the load.”

“I was going to do that, Rick.”

“It was no problem.” Rick rubbed his hands together. “Now, are we going to make pizza or what?”

“Pizza!” Andre yelled.

“Okay, but we are going to take the easy route this time,” Michonne warned. “I got the pizza crust and sauce out of the pantry. All we have to do is decide on toppings. Andre, what do you want on the pizza?”

“I want ham.”

“Rick?”

“Pepperoni.”

Michonne gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I’m glad you didn’t say pineapple or I’d have to fire you.”

“If you’d wanted pineapple, I would have been forced to quit.”

“Funny. I’m adding mushrooms. Is that acceptable for your sensitive palate, Rick?”

“Extremely.”

The trio set about assembling and baking their pizzas. When they were ready, Michonne and Rick carried the pizzas and the rest of their meal outside so they could enjoy dinner by the pool.

“Mmm. I’m going to have to get a pizza stone. My pizza crusts never get this crispy when I use a baking sheet.”

“You make your own pizza dough and then use a baking sheet? That’s like taking the time to do your makeup flawlessly and then putting a mask on. It’s just wasted effort.”

“Calm down there, Chef Gordon. My pizza stone got lost when I moved and I just haven’t had time to replace it.”

“I take my food very seriously.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that.” Rick looked over to Andre. “You enjoying your pizza, Dre?”

“Yep. It’s so good. Can we do this every week?”

“Have pizza?” Michonne questioned.

“Yeah, you, me, and Rick.”

“Sweetie, I’m sure Rick has other things---”

“I actually think that’s a great idea, Dre.” Rick caught Michonne’s eye. “And maybe we could watch a movie after. I mean, if you think you’ll have time.”

“Will you have time, Mama?” a hopeful Andre asked.

“I’ll make the time.” Michonne promised.

Rick smiled. “Okay. But I’m making the crusts from scratch next week.”

The group ate and talked until Andre’s eyes started drooping at the table.  

“Okay, Dre. Time for bed.” Michonne pulled Andre’s chair back and tried to rouse the little boy so he could go upstairs but he was out. “Goodness, now I’m going to have to carry him upstairs.”

“That will be like carrying a load of bricks at this point. Why don’t you let me carry him up and get him tucked in bed?”

“Yes, please. My back thanks you,” Michonne said gratefully. “I’ll clear the table and put the food away.”

“Alright, I’ll meet you in the den.”

Rick was already in the den by the time Michonne finished putting away the food. He was stretched out on the couch with one arm covering his eyes and the other hanging down by his side.

Michonne walked over and bumped the arm that was hanging off of the couch. “Move.”

Rick uncovered his eyes and sat up. “Is that any way to treat a guest in your home?”

Michonne plopped down beside Rick. “No, but you aren’t a guest.”

“Really, what am I?” Rick stared at Michonne intently while waiting for her answer.

“Um, you’re tired and obviously had a really long day. You can head out now if you like.”

Rick let out a little laugh at Michonne’s avoidance. “I need to wait for my clothes to dry. I really don’t want to wear another man’s clothes home.” He pulled at the t-shirt. “Your ex?”

“Yeah. I was looking for something my little brother, Noah, left behind, but I found this and it looked like it would fit.” Michonne sighed. “I thought I’d thrown everything away after he left.”

“Bad breakup?”

“That’s putting it mildly. It was life altering.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No...yes. I’ve held it in for so long that I’m afraid if I start talking about it I’ll never stop talking...or crying.”

“Well, I’m here with a listening ear and a shoulder for you to cry on and an old shirt for you to blow your nose into.”

Michonne smiled. “Don’t you have work to do? You’ve spent just about all day here.”

“I got Dre to read while I studied when we came home from the park. That’s why we were trying to make pizza when you got home. I’m here if you want to talk.”

Michonne laid her head and Rick’s shoulder. “Where do I start?”

Rick wrapped an arm around Michonne and settled into the couch. “Start wherever you want.”

“I first met Mike when I was fifteen. His family moved down here from New York.  All the girls were in love with him from the start. He was tall, dark, handsome and his accent made everything sound so smooth coming out of his mouth.”

“Is that why you liked him?”

“Partly. I mean it didn’t hurt. I was curious about him because he was so unlike any of the guys I’d known.”

“What were those guys like?”

“Sweet country boys...like you.”

“Oh.”

“But I also liked that Mike was an artist,” Michonne continued. “And he was an artist in every way...extremely talented and extremely brooding. I found the combination heady when I was young. But...”

“But you got older and what you wanted in a partner changed.”

“Yeah...but Mike didn’t. But I let it slide when we were together. He was never one to be tied down, so we didn’t actually start dating until senior year of high school. We dated through college. I went to UGA while Mike attended art school back in New York.”

“You didn’t tell me you went to UGA, too.”

“Yeah, when I saw it on your resume, I realized we were there around the same time.”

“Small world.”

“Especially in Georgia.” Michonne laughed before sobering and continuing her story. “I think we made it in the early years because we went to separate schools and didn’t see each other much. Because of the time apart, whenever we did see each other, we didn’t spend too much time talking...if you know what I mean.”

Rick shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to hear this story.”

“Ignore me and continue.”

“It wasn’t until we started living together while I was in law school that I noticed Mike hadn’t changed, he’d only gotten worse. He was trying to make a go of it in art and success was slow coming for him. The longer it took, the more sullen and bitter he got. I tried to love him through it but there comes a point where love isn’t enough. I was just about to end it when I got a little surprise my final year of law school.”

“Andre?”

“Yep. In hindsight, I had enough family support to do it on my own, but I guess I took my pregnancy as a sign that I couldn’t give up on Mike or our relationship, so I stayed. And he ended up being the one who left.”

“While you were pregnant?”

“No, I had Andre in my third year and still graduated on time and got several offers from great firms. I chose one and started my career.”

“What was Mike doing?”

“He stayed home with Dre and worked on his art and kept trying to make it big. But nothing clicked for him and everything was falling into place for me career wise.”

“I’m sure that didn’t help your situation any.”

“No, it didn’t. Mike tried to make an effort in the beginning. He’d show up at firm functions and try to smile, but I knew he resented being there as my significant other. He hated when any of the wives of the other lawyers tried to commiserate with him over being a stay-at-home parent and tried to arrange play-dates. Soon, he just stopped going to the functions altogether and we stopped talking about our days and pretty much anything else.” Michonne wiped at her eyes. “One Friday when Andre was two, I got a call from my sister that Mike had dropped him off at her house along with a note. I picked up my son, came home, and read my ‘Dear Michonne’ letter. I allowed myself the weekend to cry and then I started making plans. I finally felt free. I didn’t have to hold myself back and smother my ambitions to make Mike feel better. I decided right then to work at my firm a few more years to save money and then I was going to do what I’d always wanted and open my own firm and focus on my son, my career, my family, and my friends.”

“What about you, Michonne?” Rick asked softly.

“What about me?”

“You didn’t name yourself on the list of things you decided to focus on. You’ve spent the last five years not only not focusing on yourself but not even making yourself a priority.”

“I had other things to take care of first.”

“But who was taking care of you?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You can, but that doesn’t mean you should always have to. You don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

Michonne pulled out of Rick’s embrace. “If I don’t do it, who will?”

The couple stared at each other in silence before Rick glanced down at Michonne’s lips and started slowing moving forward. Right before their lips touched, Michonne pulled back and stood up.

“I think your clothes are dry by now. I’ll go get them for you.” She rushed out of the room.

“Michonne. Michonne!” Rick slumped back against the couch. “Shit.”

“She couldn’t even look at me as she handed me my clothes and some leftover pizza. Just told me to drive safely. We’ve barely talked since unless it’s about Dre.” Rick took a drink of beer after relaying what happened last week to his friends.

“Maybe you scared her off trying to read her mind and shit.”

“I wasn’t trying to read her mind, Shane. I was just trying to help.”

Shane scoffed. “Were you trying to help her or you?”

“What do mean?”

“I’m just saying. Ain’t no way you’d get with a woman who was still hung up on her ex. You’re too much of a gentleman and considerate and all that shit. If you helped her to get over her ex, then you could slide right on in there.”

“It wasn’t like that, Shane. I do like, Michonne. I’ve liked her since I met her. And getting to know her has only made my feelings stronger but I would never try to manipulate the situation.”

“You gonna stop working for her?” Abe asked.

“No, why would I do that?”

Abe shrugged. “It’s gonna get mighty awkward if y’all continue to ignore the elephant in the room.”

“I can’t force her to talk about it.  And I wouldn’t leave Dre just because things are awkward between me and his mom. That’s what her ex did and I’m not going to do that.”

“How deep are your feelings for her, man?”

Rick smiled at Teddy’s question. “I’ve never felt this way before. I can’t explain it, but having Michonne and Dre in my life just feels natural and like it’s supposed to be that way. I want to move forward to see where things go with Michonne, but I think she’s afraid to trust again.”

“Well, you are going to have to love her through it.”

Rick thought about Michonne’s words to him. “Michonne said that sometimes that isn’t enough.”

“If you aren’t with the right person or in the right situation, nothing is ever going to be enough. You just have to know when it’s right.” Teddy paused. “Do you think Michonne’s the right person for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you’re the right person for her?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you be there for her in whatever way she needs until she’s ready.”

“Thanks, Teddy.” Rick chuckled at his friend. “I think you are in the wrong profession.”

“Damn straight he is,” Abe chimed in. “I think you just helped Rick...and me.”

“For real, man?”

“Yeah. I got a little lady that I’ve been wantin to get serious with--”

“You’re talking about Sasha, right?” Teddy asked.

Abe drew up his eyebrows. “How did you know?”

Shane laughed. “Everybody knows that. You look at her like she walks on cotton candy and shits out rainbows. You got it bad, man.”

“I thought I was playing it cool.”

“You play it cool around Sasha about as well as you play poker.”

“I played well enough to take your ass to the cleaners in the last round, Shane.”

“And I’m about to win my money and yours back. You’ll have to find some other way to pay for your hair dye. If Dr. T-Dog and his love lessons are over for the night, let’s get back to playing cards.”

“Maybe you should listen to T-Dog’s advice and let somebody love you through whatever the hell has got you so messed up,” Abe quipped.

Shane shuffled the cards. “If you would have suggested that I let somebody fuck me through it, then I might have listened.”

Rick kept Teddy’s advice in mind when he saw Michonne the next day. Dre was playing in his first basketball game and Rick had promised he’d be there. He pulled up to Michonne’s house right as she and Dre were walking to the car.

Dre ran over and gave Rick a hug. “You made it!”

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything, Dre.” Rick stood up and nodded to Michonne. “Hey. How are you.”

“I’m good, Rick. And you?”

“I’ve been better.”

Michonne looked away and cleared her throat. “Are you riding with us?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

The ride over would have been silent if not for Andre’s excited chatter from the backseat. Rick and Michonne spent the short trip responding to the little boy in between taking surreptitious glances at each other.

After Michonne walked Dre over to his team, she found Rick in the stands.

“I saved a seat for you.”

“Thanks.” Michonne took a deep breath. “Rick, I—”

“Rick Grimes! I thought that was you. What are you doing here?”

Rick and Michonne turned to see three women standing over them.

“Hey, Whitney. I’m here to watch Dre.”

“That is so sweet! Isn’t that sweet ladies?” Whitney’s backup crew nodded in agreement.

“Michonne, this is Whitney, Bailey, and Jenna.”

“Yeah, we are all good friends from carpool. You must be Andre’s mother. It’s nice to finally see you. The way Rick gushes over you, if I didn’t know he was the nanny, I would have thought he was your husband.”

Michonne glanced over to see Rick blushing.

"According to Rick, you’re a hardworking woman. I guess that’s why you hired him. And the carpool crew would like to thank you for that. He is just a sight for sore eyes.” Whitney turned her attention back to Rick. “I just hate the kids didn’t have school yesterday. We missed talking to you. We really have to arrange an after-school play-date for all of the kids.”

Michonne’s head snapped up at those words.

“I think Dre would enjoy it, but you’d have to clear that with Michonne first.”

“Oh, of course. Well, looks like the game is about to start. We need to get back to our seats. We’ll see you on Monday, Rick. And don’t forget to bring your dip recipe.”

After the ladies moved on, Michonne just stared at Rick.

“What?” he finally asked.

“Is that what you deal with every day?”

“The ladies? They mean well and they don’t hit on me near as much as they used to in the beginning. I really think they see me as one of the girls now.”

Michonne shot Rick a look.

“Okay, maybe the last part is a stretch.”

“No, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about arranging play-dates and swapping recipes. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Not really. Now it took some getting used to, but I guess they are sort of my friends now. And we talk about other stuff like television shows and some of them are into sports. It’s just a nice way to pass the time while we’re waiting to pick up the kids.”

“That would have been Mike’s worst nightmare come true.”

“It really doesn’t bother me Michonne. It’s not a threat to who I am in the least.” Rick sighed. “I’m not Mike, Michonne.”

“I know that. I do. He’s all I knew for so long. I just have to let it go.”

“You will eventually.”

Michonne nodded. “Do you really gush over me and my career with your crew?”

“Yeah.”

That’s something Mike had never done. He’d seen her career as a hindrance. 

“Thank you.”

Rick clasped Michonne’s hand with a smile. They were taking baby steps, but they’d get to where they needed to be.

“I’m not Mike.”

Michonne thought back on Rick’s words as she waited for Sasha to arrive. Intellectually, she knew Mike and Rick were nothing alike, but, emotionally, it was hard to grasp that fact. Michonne’s thoughts were interrupted by Sasha walking into her den.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, Sasha.”

“I rang the doorbell but you didn’t answer, so I used my key.”

“Yeah, I’ve been distracted lately.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“It’s Rick. I told him about Mike and then we almost kissed and I freaked out and started being distant.”

“Oh, I need to be seated for this.” Sasha took a seat on the couch beside Michonne. “Did you not want him to kiss you?”

“I did want it. I still do. I’m just...I don’t know. It’s so hard for me to let go and trust my heart with someone else. I thought I’d dealt with everything but I guess not.”

“Michonne you can’t punish Rick for what Mike did. He’s not Mike.”

“That’s what he said.”

“He’s right. Mike is off somewhere living the life of his choosing and you are letting him choose how you live yours as well. You have to let it go. That doesn’t mean you have to forget what he did, but it does mean you have to come to terms with and resolve your feelings about what he did so you can start fresh with Rick.”

“How do I do that?”

Sasha laughed. “I don’t know. I’m trying to learn how to do that myself. But I’ve decided that I’m going to try. Bob is gone and I’m never going to forget him and he will always hold a piece of my heart, but I have to move on. You were right when you said he wouldn’t want me to stop living just because he had no choice but to. He always wanted me to be happy. And I’m going to do that for him and for myself.”

Michonne pulled Sasha into a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Sasha. And I’m glad you came to this in your own time and on your terms.”

Sasha smiled as she sat back. “I actually feel lighter. I didn’t realize how much I was letting grief weigh me down.”

“I understand about letting things weigh you down.”

“Michonne, you said it’s hard for you to trust your heart with Rick.”

“In a way, yeah.”

“What means more to you than anything in this world?”

Michonne answered without a moment’s thought. “Andre.”

“Do you trust Rick with him?”

“Without question.”

“So if you can trust him with the person you love most in this world, doesn’t that show you that you can trust him with your heart?”

At work the next morning, Michonne scrolled through the pictures on her phone until she found the one she was looking for. She smiled at Dre and Rick covered in flour and hamming it up for the camera. Her conversation with Sasha had given Michonne a lot to think about last night.

Michonne did trust Rick implicitly with Andre. She just wondered when she was going to be ready to move forward with him in all aspects of her life. What was it going to take?

The phone buzzed in Michonne’s hand. Her breath caught when she looked down and saw Dre’s school on the caller id.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Richardson?”

“Yes.”

“This is Principal Nelson from Richmond Country Day. Andre fell ill in class. He complained of severe stomach pains. We’ve called an ambulance. Hold on a minute, please...they just arrived.  Let me find out where they are taking him.”

Michonne was up and grabbing her purse and coat as fast as she could. She heard the principal talking to the paramedics.

“Ms. Richardson?”

“Yes.” Michonne had tears in her voice and eyes.

“They are taking Andre to Tompkins Memorial.”

“Thank you. I’m on my way.”

“We’ll keep Andre in our thoughts and prayers. Please let us know how he’s doing.”

“I will.” Michonne ended the call and rushed out of her office. “Lisa, I have an emergency with Dre. Reassign what meetings you can to my associates and cancel the rest.” Michonne ran to the elevators without a backwards glance at her shocked assistant.

By the time Michonne made it to the hospital, she was on the verge of a panic attack. She ran in and found the service desk.

“They just brought my son in! He’s seven-years old. His name is Andre Anthony.”

The front desk clerk checked her computer. “Yes, he’s in the children’s wing on the fifth floor. He doesn’t have a room yet. It looks like they are prepping him for emergency surgery.”

Michonne clutched the desk to stay upright. “Thank you.” She took the elevator to the fifth floor and spoke with a floor nurse.

“Miss Richardson, I’m glad you’re here. Let me page a doctor.”

An older gentleman with kind eyes came out to greet Michonne. “Miss Richardson? Hello. My name is Dr. Greene. Your son is stable. But his appendix was close to rupturing when he was brought in, so we had to prep him for surgery right away. Now that you’re here, are there any objections to the procedure?”

“Of course not. Just make my baby better.”

“We will. You just have a seat and Nurse Rhee will give you some forms to fill out. We’ll make sure to keep you updated.”

“Can I see him before he goes back?”

“I’m sorry but he’s already in the operating room. Time was of the essence. But we’ll take you back as soon as he’s in recovery.”

Michonne swallowed and tried to hold her tears at bay. “Okay.” She wandered over to the waiting area and sat, unsure of what else to do.

Nurse Rhee brought Michonne a stack of forms to fill out. “Dr. Greene is the best doctor around and he’ll take good care of your son.”

“You’ve worked with him a lot?”

Nurse Rhee smiled. “You could say that. He’s my father and he treats all the patients here like they’re his own.”

Michonne just nodded.

Seeing that the young mother was barely holding it together, Nurse Rhee asked, “Is there anyone you want me to call? You shouldn’t have to do this by yourself.”

“Yes, could you call this number, please? I don’t think I can get through the conversation without crying.” Michonne wrote down the name and number of the one person she needed.

Twenty-five minutes later, Rick raced through the door. Michonne jumped up and ran into his arms.

“I got here as fast as I could! What happened? Where’s Dre?” Rick rubbed him hands up and down Michonne’s back. “Michonne, I need you to talk to me. You’re scaring right now.”

Michonne pulled back and led Rick over the waiting room. “He’s in surgery. His appendix almost ruptured. He was fine last night, Rick. He didn’t have a fever. He didn’t complain about a stomach ache. How could this have happened? How could I not have realized he was sick?”

“Michonne, you can’t blame yourself. We just have to be thankful that the doctors caught it in time. How long has he been in surgery?”

“I’m not sure. I lost track of time. They were prepping him when I arrived.”

“I would have been here sooner, but I had a seminar in the city today. I don’t know how many traffic laws I broke speeding over here. My heart was in my throat the whole time.”

“Rick, I wouldn’t have called if I knew you were in class. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about? I could have been in the middle of an exam and I would have left. There is no way I wasn’t going to be here for you and Dre. You’re both too important to me.”

It was at that moment, that everything fell into place for Michonne. “I’m sorry.”

“Michonne, I told you it’s not a problem.”

“No, I’m sorry for dragging my feet about us. I’m sorry for not trusting you with my heart.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We can talk about this later.”

“But—”

“Really, we can do this later. I know your emotions are all over the place right now.”

“They are, but I need to say this. When they told me that Dre was being taken to the hospital, I couldn’t think straight. All I wanted was to see my son...and you. I wanted you with me. I needed you. And that’s how I’ve felt for a while. I realized it’s not that I didn’t trust you with my heart, I didn’t trust myself and what I was feeling. I didn’t trust myself with happiness...or love. Rick and I want you in my life as well as Dre’s.”

Rick smiled at Michonne’s words. “That’s what I want, too. It’s what I’ve wanted for a while now.”

“Miss Richardson?”

Michonne and Rick stood as the doctor approached.

“Yes.”

“Andre is out of surgery. Everything went well and he’s fine.”

“Thank God he’s okay. I was worried he’d be back there for a long time.”

“If there aren’t any complications, appendectomies are usually relatively quick surgeries. Andre’s procedure went very smoothly. We were able to remove his appendix before it ruptured. He’s on his way to recovery right now. He’ll be there for about an hour and then he’ll be moved to his room. You should be able to take him home in a couple of days.”

“Can we see him now?” Michonne was anxious to hold her son.

“You sure can. I’ll have Nurse Rhee come get you when he’s settled in recovery.”

“Thank you, Dr. Greene.”

“Not a problem, young lady.”

Rick embraced Michonne. “He’s going to be alright.”

“Excuse me.”  

Rick and Michonne pulled apart to find Nurse Rhee waiting.  

“Sorry to interrupt. I’m here to take you to your son. Are you ready?”

Michonne entwined her fingers with Rick's and looked into his eyes as she answered. “Yes, I’m ready.”

 Six weeks later

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Andre! Happy birthday to you!”

The song ended with loud cheers and applause for the birthday boy.

“Make a wish Dre and blow out your candles,” Michonne instructed.

Eight-year-old Andre closed his eyes hard and concentrated on his wish. After a few moments, his eyes popped opened and his blew out the candles on his train-shaped cake.

“Great job, Dre! Now, let’s cut the cake. Michonne, babe, can you hand me the knife?”

Michonne and Rick worked together to cut the cake and pass out slices to Andre’s party guests, which included classmates, family, and family friends.

When everyone was fed, Rick and Michonne grabbed a slice for themselves to share and headed over to sit with Jacqui and Tyreese.

“You two did a great job on this party. I think I want you to plan my next one,” Tyreese joked.

“Rick and Dre did most of the planning. I just reined them in when they started going overboard.”

Rick scoffed at Michonne’s words. “You didn’t go overboard, huh? So why I was up all night putting together the massive model train set that you bought Dre? It’s a nicer train than some of the ones at the train museum.”

“He wanted a new train so I bought him one,” Michonne stated innocently. “And you weren’t up all night just laying down train tracks.”

“I sure wasn’t, was I?” Rick pulled Michonne to him for a kiss.

“Oh, so you were laying down the tracks and the pipe? Get it!” Jacqui cackled.

Tyreese nudged his wife. “Jacqui!”

“Oh, Ty, unclench. Part of the reason you love me is for this mouth of mine. Try to deny it,” Jacqui challenged.

Tyreese smiled and didn’t say anything.

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I thought.” Jacqui winked at her husband before turning back to Rick and Michonne. “Y’all really did do a great job though.”

“Well, Michonne and I knew we wanted it to be something big. We wanted it to be a celebration of Dre’s birthday and him recovering from surgery.”

It had been six weeks since Andre’s emergency appendectomy. Just as Dr. Greene had promised, Andre was out of the hospital two days later.  He returned to school a week and a half after that. The little boy was back to his energetic and active self.

“I also think you could call it a celebration of you two finally getting your act together.”

“Jacqui, you mean a celebration of me finally getting my act together. Rick knew what he wanted, I just had to let some things go that were holding me back so I could catch up to where he was.”

Michonne and Rick had been inseparable since Andre’s surgery. Michonne let go of all of the baggage of the past on that day and hadn’t looked back since. Her relationship with Rick had flourished to the point that he’d essentially moved in considering how often he was at the house. And his nanny role with Andre had morphed into something of a surrogate father role. Michonne, Rick, and Andre were beyond happy with all the changes that had taken place in their lives.

Jacqui motioned to the other side of the yard. “It looks like you aren’t the only one who is ready to let the pain go and move forward.”

Across the way, Sasha and Abe sat talking and laughing by the pool. They weren’t dating, but they were growing closer every day. The light was back in Sasha’s eyes and her smile.

Sasha wasn’t the only one with happiness shining in their eyes. Andre was taking a small break from playing to enjoy his cake with some friends. His birthday was better than he ever imagined it would be.

One little boy, who was on his third slice of cake, smiled at Andre. “This is the best birthday party I’ve ever been to!”

“Thanks, Carter. My mom and da-...uh Rick...are the best.”

“What did you wish for, Dre?” Sheena, one of Dre’s classmates who had a crush on him, asked.

“Don’t tell her, Dre. You can’t tell anyone!” Carter exclaimed.

“Why can’t he tell me?”

“Because if he tells anyone, it won’t come true.”

“You think your wish is gonna come true, Dre?” Sheena asked.

Andre thought about what he’d wished for as he blew out his birthday candles and looked over to his mother and Rick. Andre smiled as he witnessed the couple feed each other pieces of cake before leaning in for a lingering kiss.

“I know it is.”

Andre’s wish came true when Michonne and Rick got married one year later. Rick officially adopted Andre on his tenth birthday. That was the same day Andre found out he was going to be a big brother.

 @richonnefics

[cobbsandra1989]

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[newstechreviews]

(Miss this week’s The Leadership Brief? This interview below was delivered to the inbox of Leadership Brief subscribers on Sunday morning, Sept. 13; to receive weekly emails of conversations with the world’s top CEOs and business decisionmakers, click here.)

The pandemic has exacerbated the winner-take-all economy, and Netflix has been a prime beneficiary of the global lockdown. Before the recent tech-stock rout, the company’s stock price had increased by roughly 40% since March, to the mid-$550s, and its market cap of $242 billion briefly exceeded that of the Walt Disney Co., which is no Mickey Mouse operation and has far more in the way of concrete assets and IP. Membership has also increased dramatically for the global streaming service. The company now has 193 million subscribers in 190 countries.

So, how do you get to be like Netflix? In a new book, No Rules Rules, company co-founder Reed Hastings (with co-author Erin Meyer) lays out his management philosophy, which includes paying talent top dollar—while steering clear of brilliant jerks—pumping up candor and taking lots of vacations. Hastings, 59, a former Peace Corps volunteer, acknowledges that his approach is not designed to work at all companies, particularly “safety-critical” businesses like operators of nuclear power plants. The Netflix approach, previously codified in a 127-slide PowerPoint presentation that has been widely circulated in Silicon Valley, works best for creative enterprises, where the biggest risk is lack of innovation.

Hastings recently joined TIME for a video conversation from his home in Santa Cruz, Calif., to discuss Netflix’s singular corporate culture, his view of the media landscape and how he feels about the phrase Netflix and chill.

Subscribe to The Leadership Brief by clicking here.

(This interview with Netflix co-CEO Reed Hastings has been condensed and edited for clarity.)

Do you remember that there was a time when people received movies on little plastic discs in the mail, in red Netflix envelopes?

That’s crazy! [Chuckles.] We still have 2 million DVD members, because on DVD you get comprehensive selection. We have all the HBO stuff, every movie ever made. And then of course it works in deep rural areas where we don’t yet have broadband.

You built a company that transformed the global media landscape, yet you wrote a book on corporate culture, not on the future of entertainment and technology. Why?

We don’t want to give away our secrets in entertainment, how we make shows and how we do casting. But corporate-culture stuff is useful to a broad range of nonentertainment firms. This book is really designed to be an antidote to 300 years of industrialization. For 300 years we’ve been factory, factory, factory. That’s influenced our management paradigms to where the boss is top down, there’s no errors, there’s lots of process. That does work well for factories. But for innovative or creative organizations, it’s really much better to go with flavors of creativity and freedom and responsibility. We want to inspire people instead of supervising them.

So you have a second book, the secret sauce on how you run the business, that you’re not going to write and publish?

By saying adequate performance gets a generous severance package, only very confident, very successful people join us.Exactly.

When you were still building the company in the 2000s, I interviewed you once and you were pretty combative, maybe even a brilliant jerk.

If I came across that way, then it’s just personal failings, it’s not intention.

Many of your rules, like have a talent-dense company and pay top dollar, may work well at a company that’s minting money. But it’s sort of like writing a coaching book and saying, “Get Tom Brady for your quarterback.” It’s not possible for many companies in many industries.

For most of our corporate life we’ve been nearly broke, losing money, and not the Yankees or the Patriots. And so whatever our budget is, though we’d rather have the talent density.

So don’t try this at home?

It is hard to change a company’s culture. I doubt that many large companies will read this and then say, “Let’s become Netflix.” It’s just too hard. But they’ll take aspects of it, they’ll have off-sites to discuss it, they’ll think about what does it mean to stimulate creativity, rather than supervise to avoid errors? And each business will have different risks. If you’re a safety-critical business, you don’t want to manage like this. So it’s very specific to a class of the economy, which is growing and is important.

Can you just be a little more explicit on what class of the economy?

Where the biggest risk is [lack of] innovation. I feel like we’re contributing to that overall discussion, which is how do you tap into human creativity and create an organization that really supports employees flourishing and having great, relevant ideas?

One of the things that I think will get a lot of attention is the unlimited-vacation policy. But the second aspect of it is that leaders actually have to take big vacations and then talk loudly about them. How much vacation did you take last year, and how loudly did you talk about it?

Five to six weeks. I’m definitely European in my habits now. And you know, send a picture. I’ll make it clear that I’m in this great place on vacation. In our field, we do vacations and then we sometimes come up with our best idea while skiing. Because you’re kind of just gently background processing what do you do about these things?

Any chairlift moments?

I was hiking in Desolation Wilderness—it’s up in California near Lake Tahoe—two years ago. And it made me think about when you don’t use a subscription for a long time, could we afford to give up all that revenue? And if we could, would we eventually get it back in positive reputation and have it be sort of an enlightened capitalism where it ultimately did generate more growth, even though in the short term it was gonna be painful? And so those are the kinds of things I’ll think through back and forth when I’m hiking.

You’re referring to Netflix’s policy of canceling subscribers that haven’t used their subscriptions recently. For forgetful people in the world of auto renewal, that is a great, consumer-friendly move. Can you go deeper on what drove that decision?

As the world goes more subscription, there will be a set of companies that embody the way consumers want to have subscription services work. And we want to be one of those consumer leaders, and I think you’ll see other firms adopt similar practices to win consumer trust and to be a leader.

The lore is you developed the idea for Netflix after bristling at a $40 late fee at Blockbuster, after you misplaced a movie. Any similar motivations here?

It was my personal pet project. One of my great frustrations 10 years ago: I had a second line to T-Mobile, and thought I had canceled it but maybe I didn’t. And then it was like a year and a half, two years later, and they wouldn’t give me any refund and it was just—they could see I hadn’t used that line. So there’s somewhat personal experience in it.

For a CEO, you have an unusual take on making decisions.

A good quarter would be one where I made no decisions, a no-hitter. I haven’t had that yet. But mostly my job is to inspire people, excite them: How can we serve the customer better? I’m sort of educating, coaching, cheerleading, guiding. But I’m not making decisions.

So not a control freak?

There are other CEO archetypes: the Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, unbelievable geniuses, the nano manager. And that worked incredibly well for them. I mean, what Elon Musk has done for society and for shareholders, it’s otherworldly.

The book also stresses owning mistakes. If you Google the words Netflix and fiasco, you get a lot of hits, which is never a good thing.

I made a major error in splitting the DVD and streaming services and increasing the pricing in 2011, called Qwikster. The stock went down 75% over four or five months. It was a big error. And we lost subscribers, etc.

And certainly I took ownership of it, and we eventually healed with consumers and now DVD and streaming are separate, but I was just going too fast. And the lesson that we got out of it is not the obvious one of the arrogant CEO who just shoots from the hip. That’s an age-old story. The more subtle one is that all the leaders around me thought it was a bad idea, but didn’t know the other ones thought it was bad and didn’t speak up enough. And their rationale was not fear, the rationale was, “Well, Reed’s made all these hard decisions before that have gone well, so I must be wrong, and I’ll bet Reed is right.” So it was over-deference.

So there was a failure of radical candor. How hard is it to pull off, and how big a problem is the culture of most companies, the unwillingness to be direct with people out of a concern for not hurting somebody’s feelings?

A good quarter would be one where I made no decisions, a no-hitter. I haven’t had that yet.Let’s think of two extremes. So one extreme is to be so polite and concerned about feelings that you never get the truth about whether that idea is accepted, rejected, etc. And then the other extreme is someone is just spouting their id, and they’re running around the place saying, “You’re ugly,” “I’m attracted to you,” all kinds of totally professionally inappropriate things. So you neither want a total id, nor do you want a sort of super-polite fake. You’re looking for constructive feedback, what we call with good intent. It’s quite nuanced.

And do you observe new hires that come to the company? How long does it generally take them to get comfortable with that approach?

A lot of variation. So I would say some people take to it within two months: they’re like, “Oh my gosh, I love this. This is exactly what I was hoping for.” Some never get there, and they leave within a year.

Netflix sounds like a harsh place for B students.

By saying adequate performance gets a generous severance package, only very confident, very successful people join us.

What grade would you give your search and discovery features right now?

Well, internally, I say we suck, compared to how good we want to be in three years. It’s hard. It turns out that human taste is hugely variable.

How many people do you have working on improving your discovery function?

It depends on the boundaries, but I’d say roughly 1,000 people.

Are those humanists or data scientists?

You need a mix. You have a bunch of humanists sort of generating hypotheses, but they don’t know exactly what’s possible. And then you have a bunch of data scientists who are really good at what’s possible.

In the DVD days, one thing that struck me as a consumer was there was a discrepancy in my approach: I would always order high-minded movies like Bergman’s Cries and Whispers or some such, and then Friday night would roll around and all I really wanted to do was watch Legally Blonde, so Bergman would just would sit there for weeks.

We used to refer to it as the conflict between the ideal self and the real self. That’s true with DVD ordering. But with on demand in our current service, you just flick over and watch on demand. Last night I was in one of those moods, and so I watched How Do You Know with Reese Witherspoon, a 10-year-old movie, romantic comedy. And it was like totally fluffy and light and they all looked so young.

Are you interested in owning movie theaters?

No, we only have bought one, the Egyptian, which is the one right next to our [Los Angeles] office. We’re really focused on being a great Internet service around the world.

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What are you thinking hard about these days?

How do we share content around the world? Usually the linear networks, the HBOs and ABCs of the world, are very nation-specific. And we’re trying to do something where we have great French movies in America, great German movies in the U.K. We’re trying to share the world’s content, and it’s challenging. You’ve got very specific issues like dubbing, and then general issues of understanding taste.

On dubbing, it seems like that’s something you’re making headway on. The early seasons of Fauda, the dubbing is just atrocious. But in Money Heist it’s pretty good.

Yeah, those are great examples. Fauda was early. So we’re definitely getting better and better at it, as you would expect, as it becomes more commercially important for us.

How many people are working on improving dubbing at Netflix?

At least 100.

How much are you spending on content annually these days?

$15 billion.

In 10 years, where do you see that number hitting?

Bigger.

Are you as impressed as the rest of the world by TikTok?

In the earnings letter, I talked about it as there’s lots of innovation left in the world, and TikTok’s growth against YouTube and Facebook is quite remarkable.

What developing technology are you paying attention to that you think will have the most immediate near-term and then medium-term impact on your business?

Display technology. Evolution of screens is important to us. To the degree that there’s new types of TVs that are incredibly beautiful and inexpensive, that helps because then people buy more of them and spend more time with the television screen. Augmented reality, where you’ve got a screen in your glasses or maybe even in your contact lenses, eventually could be pretty impactful.

Will you ever crack down on shared passwords?

You know in the end we do want to serve, we want every household to have an account. And so we want to try to use more carrot than stick in getting people there. But it really does work better when every household has one. But there are tricky issues like when your kids go to college, is that a different household or not? When you’re traveling for business, is that different or not? So you don’t want to go too hard on it and become like the old cable networks.

If you could add anybody new to your board right now, who would it be?

It would be great to have someone from Africa, Asia or Latin America, none of which we have currently.

I’ve been warned that you don’t like being lumped in with the FANG stocks. Why does Netflix not belong in that group?

Disney is our main competitor. We have more people in L.A. than Silicon Valley. We’re fundamentally a global entertainment service as opposed to a general tech company.

Let’s do a round of corporate word association. What’s your one- or two-word reaction to the following companies?

AT&T

Stable and networks.

Disney

Family and fun.

Comcast

Cable, cable, cable.

Amazon

Amazing and scary.

Apple

Big and powerful.

Google

Useful and free.

Facebook

Conflicting and enjoyable.

Alibaba

Chinese.

Netflix

Enjoyable and broadening.

How big is the pie for Netflix? As they say in business school, what is your target addressable market?

Humans on the Internet who enjoy entertainment.

Modest goals. Netflix and chill has become part of the popular lexicon. How do you feel about your corporate name being part of a euphemism for sexual activity?

It’s not a campaign we created. We love it that we’re important enough to people’s lives that they use us in various references. But we neither built that nor do we exploit it. I would say it’s recognition of how significant we’ve become for many people.

HASTINGS’ FAVORITES

BUSINESS BOOK: Jim Collins, Beyond Entrepreneurship.

AUTHOR: Richard Powers. I just finished Richard Powers’ Overstory. Unbelievable writing

APP: Uber.

WORKOUT: The Seven Minute Workout.

Subscribe to The Leadership Brief by clicking here.

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Euro 2020 qualifiers: Croatia need Ivan Rakitic and Luka Modric to rediscover their mojo

MATCH INFO

Euro 2020 qualifier

Croatia v Hungary, Thursday, 10.45pm, UAE

TV: Match on BeIN Sports

After the roar of approval, the hint of relief. Few better goals than Luka Modric’s, a rising thunderbolt from 25 yards at the Bernabeu, were struck anywhere last weekend. For Madridistas the identity of the scorer was appreciated as much as the impact on the scoreline. “Now that’s Ballon d’Or class,” purred one commentator.

It seemed overdue. “Modric should shoot more from that range,” suggested Madrid manager Zinedine Zidane. With more game time, perhaps he will. For most of this season, Modric has been the most understated of Ballon d’Or holders. He was sent off in the opening league match – a brutal decision – and with suspension and injury issues, has not featured in the starting XI in La Liga since. He made a conspicuous error to give away a goal in the humbling 2-2 draw against Bruges in the Champions League. It had been a while since the Bernabeu celebrated moment of ‘Ballon d’Or class’ from the Croatian voted as the best male player on earth for 2018.

Over in Barcelona, Modric’s compatriot, Ivan Rakitic, also celebrated a four-goal fiesta last weekend, though as a minor participant in Barcelona’s 4-0 win over Sevilla, a 70th-minute substitute. Rakitic has, like Modric, started just one league match this season for the Spanish champions, and as he arrived for national team duty this week, he acknowledged: “I don’t know what’s ahead.”

Modric and Rakitic: Probably the two most emblematic footballers of Croatia’s fairy-tale march to a World Cup final 15 months ago, and not only because they had been for so long commanders in the midfields of two of the game’s most decorated clubs. In Russia last summer, they were the authority and the panache in Zlatko Dalic’s team: Modric the tireless captain, Rakitic the reliable matchwinner at moments of greatest pressure, scorer of the deciding penalty in two knockout-round shoot-outs.

A different form of pressure confronts them over the next four days, as the World Cup silver-medallists negotiate their way through a delicate position in Euro 2020 qualifying. Croatia lead Group E with 10 points but they have a thin cushion beneath. Hungary, who beat Croatia in March and play the return fixture in Split on Thursday, are joined with Slovakia on nine points. Wales, who host Croatia on Sunday, are on six with a match in hand on the rest.

And Croatia have perhaps the least favourable run-in. They have played the fifth-placed also-rans Azerbaijan twice already. They dropped points there in their last outing, a 1-1 draw.

Dalic calculates “15 points should be enough” to finish in the top two qualifying slots, but acknowledges that as he surveys his squad, he sees many of his allies short of optimum match-fitness.

Modric’s relative inactivity is the least of the concerns. The readiness of Rakitic, who missed the last two qualifiers after an unsettled summer, when Barcelona told him he could leave Camp Nou at the right price, is an issue. “I needed to clear my mind,” Rakitic explained of his September absence from the national squad.

Two of Dalic’s most trusted strikers, Ivan Perisic and Ante Rebic, are still adjusting to the clubs they joined in the summer. Rebic has yet to start a game for troubled AC Milan, and while Perisic, at Bayern Munich on loan from Inter Milan, has made an impact in the Bundesliga, it has largely been from the Bayern bench. At the back, neither of the trusted sentries from the World Cup, Dejan Lovren and Domagoj Vida, are at the peak of their powers, Lovren having played his only league game so far this term for Liverpool and Vida enduring Besiktas’ dreadful start to the Turkish season.

Zlatko Dalic’s Croatia side have had an unhappy time of it since reaching the World Cup final in 2018. EPA

“A few players are not at the top of their form with their clubs,” admitted Dalic, who took Al Ain to the Arabian Gulf League title in 2015 and to an Asian Champions League final the following year. “When we get together as a national team, you put your club football aside. It’s something special and we are a group who believe in ourselves.”

The greatest stimulus of that belief is the experience of Russia 2018, but a process of gradual renewal was always going to be required of Dalic. His midfield maestros, Modric and Rakitic, are 34 and 31. Other World Cup heroes, like Mario Mandzukic and goalkeeper Danijel Subasic, have retired from international duty, sensing they had been on a journey a small country like theirs will probably conjure up only once in a generation.

Updated: October 10, 2019 09:47 AM

MATCH INFO

Euro 2020 qualifier

Croatia v Hungary, Thursday, 10.45pm, UAE

TV: Match on BeIN Sports

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Living on Bitcoin Day 6: An Artist, a Dev and a Moon Boy Walk Into a Bar…

This is the fifth instalment of reporter Colin Harper's "Living on Bitcoin" experience in San Francisco. Find out what happened to him earlier on Day 1 , on Day 2 , on Day 3 , onDay 4 and on Day 5.

On day six I woke with a renewed sense of energy. My last two days in San Francisco were booked up with plenty to do, and yesterday’s purchase had reinvigorated the experiment’s sense of purpose.

That morning I wrote, paid Kashmir back for the breakfast (she got into her Coinbase account) and set out for two days of Bay Area shenanigans that would include meeting a local crypto artist, getting tipsy with bitcoin and sleeping (and sailing) in the East Bay on a boat that threatened to capsize.

Around 1:00 p.m. I caught an Uber into the Financial District to meet up with Dustin, a multi-talented developer who had responded to a Reddit thread I made leading up to my week here. He invited me sailing, but the weather was sketchy — it had been raining for the better part of my time in San Francisco and there were winds and storms in the forecast — so we decided to meet at Digital Garage, a coworking space on Market Street that accommodates many cryptocurrency projects.

I was loitering in the lobby when he passed me, and we registered who the other was immediately. Big, tall, bearded with long, blonde hair, a tremendous smile and goofy disposition, he crossed from the other end of the lobby to greet me.

He’s got the hair, the beard, the “No worries, dude” vibe. We’re going to get along great.

We did.

As we entered the working space, I was pleased to see a cryptograffiti original on prominent display, which added an air of authenticity to both his presence in the space and to the San Francisco crypto community for supporting a local, industry-specific artist.

Posting up at a table in the working space, we hit it off and began jumping from one crypto topic to the next. Turns out, he’s a lone-wolf dev who’s building a hardware wallet with bluetooth-enabled mobile controls — not unlike Ledger’s own Nano X, I suggested. He hadn’t heard of it before.

“Well, they might have the bluetooth, but I doubt it’s trustless and multi-sig,” he tells me, going on to say that he knows of no other trustless hardware wallet. Interest piqued, I surveyed his app and the hardware wallet prototype, which he’s also building himself.

“You’re just a one-man band, aren’t ya?” I remarked, impressed, after learning that he was building everything himself.

He’s a bit of a crypto OG, it seems. He’s been in the space since 2011 and hangs around the Bitcoin Core internet relay chat (IRC), where he says he’s been humbled on a few occasions. I asked for his veteran perspective to help explain why I couldn’t find any more stores in the area that accept bitcoin. He suggests that it’s intertwined in the same trend that has made Silicon Valley so banal to him.

“Bitcoin has really exacerbated the aspects of Silicon Valley I don’t like,” he admits. “It has an appreciation for altcoins or stablecoins, but not really for bitcoin, hard money. I think there’s this culture in San Francisco that just idolizes what investors like, what’s new. I heard someone say Silicon Valley is about new things — bitcoin isn’t new anymore.”

Everyone’s just looking for “the next big thing” or “the next Bitcoin.” They’re not going to find it, was more or less his view, and he believes that the focus shouldn’t be creating something new but improving what we already have.

“I’ve heard it said that the East Coast owns things while the West Coast makes things,” he theorized, “and if that stereotype were true I could see more people taking bitcoin.

“I think the challenge is that the majority of people don’t understand security stuff. The people who buy these don’t understand half of it. The challenge is teaching them,” he said, broaching the evergreen topic on the “how-tos” of adoption.

Our conversation was kinetic and animated as we touched on a wide range of crypto-related topics. I’m not surrounded by developers much in Nashville (especially not crypto/blockchain ones), so the opportunity to talk to one who knew the ins-and-outs (and knew them real well) left my curiosity welling with streams of new, if half-hatched, bitcoin applications and infrastructural ideas.

We talked crypto assets insurance (a concept which we both had previously hatched complementary business models for), his conceptualization that the network serves users and not miners (he believes that “hashing wars” are irrelevant, since, ultimately, the users will decide which chain they buy in to) and his surprising penchant for interacting with some of the space’s most prodigious and controversial celebrities without knowing who they are.

At one point, he had left his laptop at the Crypto Castle only to retrieve it, unmolested, from the same couch he left it on a month later, though he didn’t really know who Jeremy was. I brought up Brock Pierce and his benevolent-or-parasitic (depends on who you ask) ventures in Puerto Rico. When Dustin was still involved in the Valley’s tech party scene, he was acquainted with him before either even knew about bitcoin.

“Ohhh, that’s Brock Pierce. I know him — I just didn’t know his name. We used to party a lot 10 years ago. That’s hilarious.”

Everyone knows everyone in this industry, and the degrees of separation between connections is often slim. It’s like Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon but with Bitcoin.

He would reaffirm this observation throughout our talks. For instance, he had applied for Coinbase back in 2013, a job he didn’t end up getting — though Armstrong’s consolation prize was pretty nice.

“He gave me a bitcoin,” he said, smiling and holding up his hands like he was holding something ethereal. “It was like 34 bucks then.”

The literal token of gratitude for being one of Coinbase’s first applicants.

That would have been sometime in 2013, maybe even right before Hill’s article. Funny, he was probably up for the position of Coinbase’s third employee.

I ordered some pad thai for lunch on Uber Eats, tried to manage some work but was ultimately distracted by my on-going, engaging conversations with Dustin. He’d agreed to go with me to the Bitcoin meetup at Stookey’s that night. To kill time until then, we decided we would give BitPay an office visit. I wanted to ask them about the decreasing presence of bitcoin-accepting merchants in the bay area, and see if the trend was national and global.

I called the office but only succeeded in leaving a voicemail, so we decided that running the errand on foot would give us our best shot. BitPay has two offices listed on Google. One was, no doubt, a mailing address but we had no way of figuring out which one.

The rain-soaked walk was made easier thanks to our umbrellas (Hans had graciously loaned me his, a feeble but functional black pocket umbrella). On our way, we took a detour so that I could try out a bitcoin ATM.

The experience wasn’t as gratifying as I had hoped, mainly because it didn’t feel like actually buying bitcoin — it was more like buying credit or a coupon for bitcoin, the opposite of what I had been doing all week: using bitcoin to buy credit and coupons in the form of gift cards.

The Coinme ATM was located in something of a mall a block over from the Moscone Center. I decided to use cash, but upon using the machine, any chance of anonymity was promptly thwarted.

First, it asks you to insert your ID, followed by a request to take a picture to verify that identity (that I would have to basically do know-your-customer (KYC) verifications twice to buy bitcoin with cash was anathema to me). After this it asked me for my phone number and email address, which I found ironically less intrusive after having to be photo identified. When all this was done, it printed a slip of paper with a username and password, along with a URL at which I could access the $10 worth of bitcoin I had bought.

Cool, I can’t even access it yet and don’t even hold the keys. Certainly different from when Hill used a makeshift, trustless prototype at Internet Archives in 2013 before the first crypto ATMs had been produced. Back then, it was just a computer and a cash box, which any employee could use to withdraw or deposit bitcoin for cash. Same concept, but more anonymous, easy and endearingly janky (you had to trust people not to steal cash from it, though).

The disheartening and borderline frustrating experience (it felt a bit cheap, a normal monetary transaction service masquerading as a crypto one) was aggravated when a Ramen vending machine 20 yards away teased cryptocurrency as a purchasing option, only to qualify the payment as “Coming soon!” at checkout.

We went on with our search for BitPay, but it was ultimately fruitless. At the first location, our call on the building’s outside directory went unanswered. At the second, we were told that BitPay no longer occupied space in the building, so we decided to pack it in.

Fighting the wind that had whipped up in our mile or so walk, we took refuge in an Chinese food joint that Dustin was fond of. We split a helping of kung pao chicken, which I repaid in bitcoin. Dustin had become an IRL intermediary through which I could enjoy those elusive dining-in-with-bitcoin experiences.

Dinner finished, we found our way to Stookey’s, an intimate, cooly lit bar that could comfortably seat maybe 30 people. We were fashionably late and took a seat at the rightmost end of the bar. I was unpleasantly unsurprised to discover that no one else had shown up for the meetup yet. For the first 30 minutes, we were the only ones, it seemed, a disappointing situation that was becoming par for the course in a week of almosts.

But it was also a win. I got to spend my bitcoin again, this time on a delicious pisco sour (a Peruvian, egg-white cocktail with a pisco base, bitters and limes) and enough beer and other cocktails to get a buzz on and cringe at the thought that the prices were not too far off from Nashville’s own.

Striking up a conversation with a wispy black-haired guy who “is kinda a tech geek,” Dustin asked him if he was there for the meetup. He said no, admitting that he was a bit skeptical of the whole thing. He rehashed an old misperception that I’ve heard from numerous naysayers, and the fact that I’m forgetting it now is either a testament to the cocktails’ potency or to the fact that most arguments against bitcoin (especially from the underinformed) have all been packaged into a nebulous hodgepodge of complaints that, in their ubiquity, have begun to resemble each other).

Dustin and I hit it off with one of the bartenders, who showed a greater-than-average understanding of crypto — so much so that he had educated opinions on forks, proof of work vs. proof of stake, and Ethereum’s Constantinople upgrade. He’s been invested for two-and-a-half years, though he had been tuned into the market and started conducting due diligence two years before that.

I asked if any of the crypto-focused co-owners were around so I could grill them. One of them, a close friend of his, was sojourning in Mexico, as one does when crypto rich. Our bartender was a more-than-adequate stand-in for my questions, seeing as he’d been at the bar for two years, so I asked him if he’d noticed a drop-off in Bitcoin meetup interest.

“They go up and down. We’re in between,” he said, conceding that they had been considering scaling the meetups down from weekly to quarterly.

He also shared his personal experience of the hassles that come with accepting bitcoin, particularly in times of network bloat. “Fees were getting ridiculous on BitPay,” he told me. “A $14 cocktail becomes a $24 cocktail and people don’t want to pay.”

“How many people pay in bitcoin, would you say?” I asked him.

“A few, mostly during the meetups obviously. Every now and then, someone will be a few drinks in, realize we take it and then want to pay that way.”

After about an hour, I turned to my left to observe a room whose patronage had thinned out in tandem with the vanishing contents of our glasses. With the room cleared, I could make out two dudes having an enlivened conversation two seats down from us: one, tall and thin-ish; the other, shorter and bulky, with blond hair.

“I think that’s Dan Held,” I told Dustin, referring to the blond character. True to form, Dustin didn’t seem to know who Dan was, showing the willful introversion of a man who is more preoccupied with the code of the industry over its personalities.

I went over and introduced myself, thanking Dan for an op-ed he had recently submitted to Bitcoin Magazine and telling him a bit about my experiment. I related it back to Kashmir Hill’s own, where he was featured in the final day of her 2014 excursion.

Dan invited me to get coffee the next day, but I said it would be tricky given my schedule. I would be busy in the morning and evening, and I had plans to meet up with cryptograffiti, a San Francisco-based crypto artist, in the afternoon.

He gave a half-cocked smile and nodded to the man he had been talking with.

“No way, seriously?” I said, shocked at the serendipity.

“Yeah, that’s me,” the tall man responded with a grin.

With introductions made, we talked a bit, and I learned (not to any surprise) that the artist was a maximalist of sorts.

“Bitcoin is my baby,” he said with the simultaneous seriousness and self-aware waggishness of a true believer.

Like Dustin, cryptograffiti was an OG. Always jumping at the chance to glean another point of view, I relayed the frustrations that had obstructed my week on bitcoin, and I asked why there were so few people at the meetup.

“People stopped going to meetups because the focus had changed. It was too financial. People started shutting you down if you knew what you were saying,” he said.

It’s all wrapped up in the paradigm shift the crypto community has experienced since 2013, he believes. Like Dustin, he thinks the altcoin boom exposed how mercurial community attention can be and diverted much of the excitement for bitcoin toward the industry’s new and shiny offspring.

“It’s cool to be contrarian. Everyone is looking for the next thing.”

Dustin joined the conversation, along with another meetup latecomer: a short, spiky-haired Ethereum “moon boy” with wide, distant eyes whom I had met at the conference and who claimed he had conceptualized a “decentralized, global supercomputer” in high school before Ethereum had even existed.

Sure thing, bud.

The meetup, while small, felt profound. It was small, but it was also quality and included a diverse sample of the industry’s many players. It was eclectic and intimate, much like the “Bitcoin at $100” meetup that Hill was a part of. Only ours was smaller, something I would not have anticipated when I started this.

But there was probably a greater diversity of professional specializations in the industry at this meetup: a one-man developer team who seemed to personify Bitcoin’s open-source nature, a Texas boy who had become one of the crypto space’s most recognized entrepreneurs, a San Francisco-based DJ-turned-artist whose crypto-themed artwork sells for five figures (yes, really), a Nashville-based journalist who didn’t know squat about Bitcoin until 2017 and was thrilled just to worm his way into this milieu, and the Ethereum moon boy who did brand relations for an Ethereum-built project.

Bitcoin and crypto had all given us the opportunity to pursue passions and careers within the industry.

Even if its use as an IRL payment has regressed, the impact of the network has been far reaching — the industry is more active than ever. This thought enlivened me.

Dustin had offered me a bed on his boat for the night, something I wasn’t about to pass up, especially with a few drinks in me. It was across the way in Berkeley, so we took the BART. I paid Dustin for a ticket and then a 15-minute drive from Oakland put us at the harbor.

The boat’s exterior gave the impression of a modest and relatively well-maintained sailboat. Below deck, the haphazard displacement of various sundries and provisions presented the habitat of a man who probably had the madness to create things few people could.

The night winding down, we decided to watch/play Black Mirror’s Bandersnatch on Netflix. The choose-your-own-adventure movie’s interactive nature gives a new dimension to Black Mirror’s typical rabbit-hole examination of technology and human frailty. We had both watched it before and wanted to see what different endings we could get.

Even if tenuous, the connection between the protagonist's struggle to create a choose-your-own-adventure game (it’s also glaringly meta, like a lot of Black Mirror’s concepts) in the seminal days of the video game industry and my own struggle to spend bitcoin became apparent.

What alternative endings, universes, paths had I not confronted, found or gone down in the course of my own adventure? Maybe I’d missed some opportunities where I could’ve used my bitcoin. Or maybe this was the most optimal path: I had met Held and cryptograffiti at a meetup and was about to sleep on a boat, owned by a developer whose myriad and disparate interests and lifestyle were like something out of a book.

What other endings are out there? I thought to myself, the boat gently rocking to the bay’s swaying tide.

It was an easy and comfortable sleep.

As Kashmir Hill did in her original journey, Colin is accepting BTC tips to help him along the way.

Tip jar: 3CnLhqitCjUN4HPYf6Qa2MmvCpSoBiFfBN

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

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