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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 3 months

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Maybe I’m Not Scared of What You’re Thinking Of - Simon Lynch/Reader

Prompt: Don't you know what you mean to me?

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, friends to lovers, slow burn, growing friendship, angst, hurt/comfort, brief canon-related mention of violence, kissing, fully clothed grinding, kindness and praise makes Simon cry ;w;

Wordcount: 14270

Summary: It's a complete coincidence that you meet him, and even though he's a little weird and there's an anger in him fueled by pain, you know that you might be all he needs to be defused.

Notes: It's Simon's turn! I have a lot of feelings about Simon!! As soon as I saw his episode my heart went out to him a lot, he's so me-coded (aside from y'know the homicide lmao) and he really only needed someone to believe in him, so here's a whole ton of words about you doing just that QwQ I've also decided that this will be his own continued world like I did with Joshua, so any future stuff will take place during or after this~

You really regret accepting this blind date after the 30th straight minute comes and goes, your date still talking about himself on his side of the table.

He came highly recommended from your mother, the son of a friend of a friend of a co-worker, and it’s clear she did no actual research on him since you have nothing in common. You just keep smiling and sipping at your drink of choice, his words falling on deathly bored ears as he keeps trying to pitch his business to you, something about a private server for paying customers to get his advice or some dumb shit you haven’t seen a million times before. Sometimes you wished you’d been born in the past when things were simpler, because any idiot with a podcast and access to the internet always came to the same conclusion that they could be the Next Great Thing, and this guy definitely does not have what it takes.

He’s about to write down his contact info so you can check out his server right now, right in the middle of your date, his food cold in front of him as he just keeps choosing to talk instead of eat, and you just stare at him tearing off the paper to hand to you as you pray your souring expression isn’t giving you away too much. ‘Uh, sorry, I don’t have Facsimile,’ you lie as he holds it out to you, but it doesn’t dissuade him as he then says it’s super easy to sign up, he’ll help you. ‘No, I mean I’m not one for all these chatting apps, I prefer some good, old fashioned talking,’ you continue, another lie although not quite as much, for while you do prefer talking face to face, hence the date, you had so many chat apps on your phone to keep in contact with everyone that they had their own page on your home screen.

‘It’ll be worth it, trust me, I already have a bunch of guys giving their own presentations on my server, I’ll even give you a free week’s trial to check everything out, whattaya say?’ he asks, clearly more interested in expanding his brand than making any sort of actual connection with you, and this time you let your face scrunch up in pained awkwardness.

‘Yeah, it’s gunna have to be a no, sorry,’ you cringe, and his smile slowly falls as he crumples up the paper and stuffs it inside his expensive name brand jacket, obviously bought to show off to everyone how ‘successful’ he was.

‘Fine, no it’s fine, I just thought you were smarter than that,’ he grumbles just on the border of passive aggressively, your eyebrows rising as your opinion of him somehow manages to drop even lower. ‘You figure you give someone a chance to get in on the ground floor of something because you think you’re vibing, but I guess it was just me.’

‘Uh…’

‘How is everything?’ The small voice draws your attention from him as you look up to your savior, your eyes just going higher as the person towers over you, even when he’s hunched over a bit to take up as little space as possible as his co-workers pass by him to get to the other tables. Your mouth falls open a little bit as your eyes meet, long bangs just barely swept to the side to reveal dark brown irises that almost appear black focusing only on you as he ignores your date, and you forget to answer as the man across from you answers for you.

‘We’re doing great, just fantastic, thanks buddy,’ he growls, now eating his food as quickly as he can so he can get away from you. ‘If you could hurry up and grab the checks though that would be even better.’

‘Is there anything else you’d like? More water, or a refill?’ He completely ignores the other man as he focuses on you, which pisses him off even more, and you join in on that as you smile politely up at him.

‘Everything’s perfect, although I could go for a refill, thank you,’ you tell him, and he gives you a nod without once acknowledging your date, who’s already gotten out his wallet and is looking up the prices of the bar on his phone; he pulls out enough to cover the meal but passes over his beer and the tax, because that’s too much work to calculate it even with his phone in hand, and he gets up and sarcastically wishes you a nice life as he bails, the silence a nice change as you continue eating alone. Your server returns a short while later with a new glass and the checks, and when he sees the money left behind he puts two and two together.

‘I take it I’m not getting a tip from him,’ he figures, and you laugh into your glass, almost spilling the liquid all over the table as you try not to choke.

‘I doubt you would’ve anyway, he was a prick,’ you admit, which makes him smile, and you decide his smile is actually quite nice as he starts clearing the other half of the table. ‘Hey, uh, would you wanna sit with me? Just for a little, it’s kinda embarrassing to eat alone after that disaster.’

He glances at the freshly vacant seat before looking around, and he leans over to lower his voice, his eyes on the table as he speaks. ‘I should really get back to work,’ he whispers, but you gesture in front of you in a welcoming manner, and he follows your hands before sitting and hiding his apron behind his arms, the nametag of Simon just barely peeking out before it’s covered up.

You flash him another smile before getting back to your lunch, it’s amazing how listening to someone that incredibly annoying can really kill the appetite in the moment, and he tries not to watch you as he makes sure he’s not about to get in trouble. You finish off your first glass and start on the second since you did ask him for it, even if it was an excuse to ignore your date initially, and you catch the way his eyes watch your exposed throat as you tilt your head back; unlike the other person sitting there previously you don’t feel objectified, or like you were a piece of meat to devour after the sell was over. It’s refreshing, and you offer him your plate in case he might want something to eat before his break, but he refuses, of course he would.

He keeps his eye on his watch but never gets up, and as you pop a fry into your mouth you can’t help but want to talk to him as he meets your eye and looks away immediately after for the third time in a row. ‘You work here long?’ you ask to start, and it’s a lame start, but just the fact that you wanna hear about him has him leaning forward in his seat before he controls himself, sits back again.

‘Just a few years, this is actually my second job, I mainly work with Data Waste,’ he tells you, his voice getting away from him for a moment before he lowers it again; it’s obvious that no one asks about him often, just this small amount of attention enough to make his face light up in a way you don't see often anymore, at least not when you talk about work related things.

‘So, you waste all the data?’ you joke, and he leans in again, the plate pushed aside as he fights to keep his voice under control.

‘No, it’s really interesting actually, I get access to all the trashed data in the city, sift through it to find anything incriminating or important, things that were lost or gotten rid of, delete anything useless; my co-workers think it’s pretty boring, but you can’t imagine the things I’ve seen on some people.’ He stops, realizing he’s about to violate his NDA, and you chuckle as he looks around again like he expects his boss from his other job to suddenly appear and fire him.

‘Sounds exciting, you ever see anything on me?’ you can’t help but ask as you lean in as well, and there’s a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks as he sits back again.

‘I dunno, I’d need to look up your name,’ he answers honestly, and you smirk at his reply.

‘Pretty smooth way to ask for it,’ you tell him, and when he stutters out that he wasn’t you just laugh and grab the check so you can see your total. You pull out your card so you can pay, and you’re in the middle of reaching for your ex-date’s check as well so you can cover the rest when he stops you.

‘I’ve got it, you don’t have to deal with trash like him, that’s my job,’ he jokes back, and when he hands you his card reader you make sure to leave a large tip from the both of you. You hand it back and his eyes go wide, he can’t accept this, but you just flash him your most charming smile and hand him one of your business cards from your wallet, something you printed up years ago but rarely got to hand out since most people used electronic cards nowadays.

‘It’s for making me laugh, today would’ve been pretty shitty otherwise,’ you admit as you stand, and when he stands with you you can see that he really is tall.

‘Okay, well… if I find anything I’ll give you a call, then? Just so you know what people are deleting about you on the internet,’ he offers, and you hold out your hand to shake his as your expressions softens.

‘I’d like that.’

It’s been a week and a half since your lunch date gone wrong but also surprisingly gone right again, and you’re at home working on a project when an unknown number lights up your phone. You frown at it before clicking into the chat and seeing a bunch of strange messages before the stranger clears things up.

ur sqky clean no trash on u sry it took so long was busy this is simon sry from the bar from last week sry

You smile fondly as you type in a quick reply, your phone lighting up again as he answers fast, he must’ve been waiting with baited breath on the other side. You add his number to your phone and answer back, another quick reply getting you to decide to take a snack break as you bring your phone to the kitchen. The more you chat the more he sees that he doesn’t have to use shorthand, his words lengthening and becoming more proper until you’re wondering if maybe he’s trying to find the perfect mix that won’t annoy you. Eventually he settles on a mix like you do, and you get comfy on the couch with your snack as you turn on the TV and find something to watch.

It’s hard to find things sometimes, you’ve had this older model for years and it isn’t compatible with every streaming platform’s updates anymore, which you think is dumb, but the thing works and you don’t wanna shell out money just to be able to watch whatever new reality show everyone’s talking about as it airs. You stick to your playlist of favourite movies and shows again, settling on one you’ve already seen a million times so you can chat without needing to pay attention.

After a half hour you add each other to Facsimile so you can chat more openly without wasting data, his username of 4LM0ST-HUM4N making you snicker as you check out his profile, but it’s bare apart from his age, which is around yours, and his full name, his last name being Lynch. You can’t help but look him up since you already knew he’d done the same to you, and all you can find is a dating profile on a site you’d heard about but never used.

‘“Shy and looking,”’ you say out loud to yourself as you read his info, and you sink a little further into the cushions as his unfortunately off-putting but also undeniable cute profile picture stares you directly in the eye; you can tell he took it alone, he’s all washed out in the glow of his computer instead of from the room’s overhead or any natural light, and you almost want to call him out on it and help him try again, maybe he might get some matches that way.

You don’t mention the profile as you keep chatting, and before you know it the next movie is autoplaying, your battery low with how long you’ve been on your phone. You figure it’s about time you get back to work as you tell him about the situation, and he agrees, he’s also been putting off work, and you wish him a good night, adding in, ‘That data’s not gunna waste itself.’ He sends you a bunch of laughing emojis before changing his mind and editing the message so there’s only one, to which you give him one back, and he starts typing something else but stops. You wait but he never starts up again so you leave it be, your phone charging out of reach as you get back to work.

Now that you’ve been reminded that he exists and you find his company quite pleasant, you take a ride to the bar on your lunch break the next day, keeping your eye out as casually as you can until you see him clearing a table nearby. You wait until he’s done before waving at him to get his attention, and his smile is so big that it makes him self-conscious as a group of people pass him by, it faltering as he gets out of their way. He takes his dishes to the kitchen and quickly returns to take your order, and even though you’re sitting at a table and a menu is in your hands, you surprise him when you ask him when his break is instead of telling him what you want to eat.

‘My break?’ he repeats back to you, like he doesn’t understand the question.

‘I just figured you might want to eat somewhere you don’t work,’ you simply say, and he glances at his watch to check the time.

‘I get off in 15, but we can eat here, I don’t wanna take up your break by traveling,’ he offers, but you just shake your head and set the menu down.

‘I work from home, I can take as long as I want,’ you tell him, and it’s not exactly a lie since you do have some things to for sure finish today, but losing an extra hour to hang out with your new friend seems like a pretty good tradeoff honestly. He accepts your answer and goes back to work with a shy grin, and you patiently wait at your table until he returns, a brown hoodie slung over his arm and his apron left behind.

You get up and follow him out to the street where he gets ready to hail a cab, and thanks to your convo from last night you already knew he didn’t drive, but you don’t want him to waste any money when your car was in the parking lot. You direct him to it, and in your head you can hear your mother warning you about letting strangers into your vehicle, but apart from being a little weird he has yet to give you any red flags or warning signs, so you unlock the door and hop in.

‘There’s this place downtown that’s pretty good,’ he says as soon as he sits down, and you try not to giggle when you see how his long legs don’t really fit in the space as he tries to find the seat adjust nonchalantly. ‘They mostly do burgers, but their menu is loaded with stuff, you just need to know what to ask for.’

‘I take it you know?’

He glances at you, his hand stilling momentarily as it's wedged between the door and his seat, and when he does find the button he lets out a noise of surprise as his chair suddenly shifts backwards. ‘Yeah, yeah I go there a bunch, I think I’ve tried almost everything so far.’

‘Why not get a job there instead of here if you like it so much?’ you ask as you start the engine, and he looks down at his lap in response.

‘Cause I- I actually didn’t apply to be a waiter,’ he mumbles, your head turning towards him as you pull out onto the road.

‘Did you wanna work in the kitchen or something?’

‘I wanted to be a bartender, actually, but they needed a server, so that’s what I landed on,’ he explains, and when you go to ask for the name of the place he just directs you down the street, ignoring the GPS entirely. ‘It’s actually been a little dream of mine to open my own place, but starting a business is expensive, and saving up is a little hard even with two jobs, city living isn’t cheap.’

‘You could try for a loan?’ you suggest, but he just shakes his head.

‘I dunno… going that far would make it real, y’know? I don’t think I’m ready for it yet.’ He points to the left as he speaks so you hit your blinker and turn, this is a part of town you’ve never been to before.

‘You could always try, and if it doesn’t work out then I’ll keep cheering you on until it does.’ He’s looking at you like your words are about to make him cry, and he’s so preoccupied with you that he nearly misses the restaurant, your brakes screeching down the thankfully empty road as you back up and turn into the parking lot. You’ve never even heard of this place but the lot is almost full, and you manage to find a spot before he’s getting out and waiting for you, the chill of the fresh, spring air making you both shiver and hurry inside.

The place is warm and cozy, the smell of food instantly making you hungry even though you were feeling pretty okay just moments ago, and he smiles at you before you seat yourself and wait to be served. A large menu is placed in front of you and he was right, it is mostly burgers first and foremost, but as you turn the pages and see everything else available you feel your mouth water. You look up to ask what he recommends just in time to see his eyes disappear over the top of his own menu, and you grin and decide you can’t beat the house special, which is a double bacon burger with everything on it. He orders the same as soon as you tell the waitress, a big plate of loaded fries to split as well as onion rings added as well, and when you’re left alone again you rest your elbows on the table and get his attention.

‘How long have you been coming here? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about it before,’ you admit, and again his eyes shine when you ask about him.

‘Most of my life, I used to live around here when I was younger so this was our go-to place when we wanted to eat out,’ he explains lively, and he looks around and gestures towards the decor. ‘It was different back then, they did a rebranding back in the early 2030s, changed the name and everything, but I still call it by its old name whenever I recommend it.’

‘What was the old name?’

‘The Hotel.’

You laugh, your hand covering your mouth as you try to keep it down. ‘I bet that might’ve caused some confusion,’ you chuckle, and he nods.

‘Oh yeah, I always have to correct myself,’ he agrees with his own laugh, the two of you still going even as your drinks are dropped off. You sip at yours, taking in everything and wondering what the place looked like back then when he stretches out and accidentally bumps your knee with his own; he quickly says sorry as he tries to retreat back to his side of the table, but you tell him it’s okay, and your reassurance makes him balk, like he’s been told off too many times for similar occurrences.

‘So, tell me, why do you wanna open your own bar?’ you quickly ask before he can shut himself off from you, his shyness returning and looking more like anxiety as he clearly gets in his own head about something so small.

‘Well, it’s just something I’ve always wanted to do, like I love the atmosphere, everyone coming together for a little while to share the space and a few drinks, it’s a good place to forget about your troubles for a bit.’ His eyes are on the table as he fiddles with the brown paper covering, your glasses creating dark rings where they’re set down on it.

‘You can say that about a lot of places,’ you add, and he agrees, but his eyes meet yours as he tries to get you to understand.

‘I know but there’s just something special about it, if your customers come there enough it can become familial, you can make bonds with people, offer them an ear when they’re sad, share in their laughter when they’re happy… I guess I’ve just always wanted to be a part of something like that.’ He looks back down again, the paper tearing and making him stop, now picking at his nails instead.

‘It sounds like you wanna connect with people, you don’t need a bar to do that,’ you say softly, carefully in case he might take offense to it, but he doesn’t, just shrugs.

‘I know, but… I still think it would be fun.’ His eyes meet yours again, and there’s something behind them as you look between them, something lonely that you haven’t seen in them before. You wonder then how long it’s been since he’s been here with someone, if his family still met up with him here, but based on his eyes you think you know the answer.

‘Well, if you do ever open that bar, then I expect free drinks for life as your first customer,’ you tease as you hold up your glass for a promising toast, and your faith in him makes his eyes look a little less lonely as he raises his own and taps the rims together. You drink as your waitress comes back with your food then, and it looks even better than the picture as you grab on tight and take a big bite. It’s the biggest burger you’ve ever eaten but it might also be the tastiest, the toppings sliding against your palms as you try to hold it all together, and you can see him having just as much trouble with his own. You laugh again and take another bite, your conversation moving onto more cheerful things as you eat, from family stories to complaints about work, bad dates to how your week was going, your overbearing but well-meaning mother to his absent father, but he isn’t as upset about it as he used to be as you sit with him and listen, he confesses.

You douse your half of the fries in ketchup as he dips his own in ranch, and he has more onion rings than you do before you realize it, and when your plates are empty and your glasses hold nothing but melting ice you finally look at your phone and realize you’ve been there for over an hour. ‘Shit, I need to get back,’ he panics as he stands, and you wave over your waitress as you both get out your wallets.

‘Hey, I got you covered, can you go start my car?’ you tell him as he searches for the card he wants to use, but he can’t accept that, even more so than the tip from last week. ‘I insist, this was a much better date than my last one,’ you say with a wink, and he fumbles his next words as you toss him your keys. He rushes out with flushed cheeks, and you instantly let your emotions show on your face as you mentally ask yourself why the hell you actually said that as you pay.

You run out as soon as you’re done and speed off back to the bar, the car quiet until you say your goodbyes, and you watch him go until he disappears through the double doors with a small wave.

It becomes a bit of a thing for you two as you meet up for lunch every Friday after that, with you trying something new at his recommendation each time, and after around 7 weeks of this he flashes you the biggest smile as you sit down at your usual table, Simon already seated and waiting. ‘What?’ you ask, his smile spreading to you, and he holds out his phone to show that he had an appointment with the bank on Monday. ‘Oh my god, are you-?’

‘I’m doing it.’ He’s practically bouncing in his seat, only stopping when he bangs his knee off the metal support and makes the table shake, his excitement so strong that you could probably start bouncing as well if you were to be completely honest with yourself.

‘That’s amazing! Do you need a ride? We can go together, it’s after your shift is done, right? Or should I pick you up at your place?’

‘I-’ His smile falters a bit but he pushes it aside, and it feels a little forced as it returns. ‘I’ve got a ride covered, but thank you. Maybe we can meet up at the bank when it’s over? I can text you, if you’d like.’

‘I’d love that, I’ll be sure to work extra hard so we can celebrate the night away.’

Everything goes quiet as you realize what you’ve said, since while you have been texting almost daily you still have yet to hang out outside of your lunch dates; you’re not even really sure if they could even be called that seeing as, apart from you calling the first time that as a joke, neither of you actually confirmed there was anything more than friendship going on between you. Still, you both take it seriously as your usual waitress approaches to take your orders, and neither of you bring it back up again after she leaves.

‘I’m really proud of you, Simon, this is a big step you’re taking,’ you do say to break the silence, and when he looks at you you can swear he’s about to cry again; it actually hurts in a physical way whenever you see that, and you curse whoever beat him down enough to have this be his default reaction whenever you give him any kind of compliment or praise.

‘I don’t think I could’ve done it if you hadn’t cheered me on, might’ve found more excuses to put it off.’ He looks so vulnerable in this moment, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and you glance down at them and nearly reach out to grab one when he continues. ‘Actually, because of you, I kinda started paying attention to my old LoveMatch account, turns out I got some messages when I was offline.’

Your smile freezes on your face as you unexpectedly go cold, your reaction to his words catching you off guard as talking becomes hard. ‘That’s… that’s wonderful news, anyone catch your eye?’ you finally ask, and he goes pink as he shakes his head.

‘Not yet, I didn’t get many but I still wanna check them all out, see if maybe my soulmate is one of them. Wait, that’s kinda desperate, isn’t it? I don’t actually think my soulmate is on some random dating site but… it’s nice to imagine, right? It’s like you said, I- I just wanna connect with someone.’ He’s looking only at his phone as he talks, scrolling through the unopened messages still waiting for him, and it feels like you’re watching the conversation from afar as your ears start ringing, your hands shaking as you try to figure out why you’re feeling this way.

He’s cute, you can’t deny that, and you enjoy his company a lot, but you haven’t thought about an actual relationship with him until this moment, when it was made apparent to you that that wasn’t what he wanted. And now that he was considering someone else, picturing a life with someone else, you know that you wanted to be with him, not in a casual, Friday lunch date and daily chats kind of way, but in the way where you’d visit him on his off hours or you’d bring him to your place, where you could have a nice dinner, watch movies together, no more table between you as you curl up against him or have him lean against you. You could hold his hand, and he could tell you about how his day at the bar, his bar, went and about all the new people he met, and when he was done you could cup that enticingly strong jaw of his and angle his face up to yours.

‘Are you okay?’

You blink and your vision blurs, and you quickly sniff and search your pockets for your travel-sized bottle of emergency ibuprofen. ‘Yeah, yeah I’m good, allergies are just acting up again, gunna go blow my nose and take my meds real quick before this gets gross,’ you lie with a fake smile, making sure he can’t see the label before you run off, and he buys it completely before going back to his messages. You don’t let your facade crack until you’re safe in the bathroom, the weight of how much you had fallen for him without realizing making your knees buckle, and you lock yourself in one of the stalls as you desperately try to push down the fact that he would never feel the same.

You’d managed to keep it together as you finished your lunch get together - not date, never date - but you spend the rest of the weekend moping around your apartment after that, your eyes on your phone as you lay on the couch and watch some old favourites to cheer yourself up, but each time he leaves you a message you feel your heart ache and it always takes a while before you can answer back. You give him the excuse of being a bit behind on work so you can’t chat much, and he was fine with that because he was gathering up the courage to message a couple people back, see if there were any sparks, and you have to ignore your phone entirely as you bury your head in the couch pillow and yell.

Before you know it you’re waking up where you’d fallen asleep, the TV going through the night and the sunlight streaming through the wall of windows to the right of your couch, the brightness rousing you from your restless dreams. You reach limply for your phone but the battery died during the night, and you groan and stumble over to your desk so you can charge it. As soon as it comes back to life you see that it’s much later than you thought thanks to your alarm never going off, and you find a bunch of messages waiting for you.

‘Shit! Shitshitshit!’ you swear when you see that Simon had asked you to wish him luck before his meeting, and you’re already a half hour late to reply but you do anyway as you fully push aside all your feelings to wish him all the luck you possibly can. He doesn’t answer back, because he’s obviously in the meeting, and you end up too nervous about it to eat as you let your phone charge. Instead you skip straight to getting ready for the day, having a quick but much needed shower after your weekend-long mope session. As you dry your hair you then find something nice to wear that you secretly hope he might like, some part of you overcoming the misery to hope that if he’s ready enough for a relationship to use LoveMatch again then maybe you could have a chance, and that hope fuels you as you race back to your phone to see if he’s done yet.

you dont need to pick me up taking a cab home see you friday

Your hand reaches up to cover your mouth as dread fills you then, and you quickly call him, unplugging your phone so you can sit down. ‘Simon, where are you?’ you ask the moment he picks up, and all you hear is the sound of traffic before a small sniff is picked up by his phone’s mic.

‘Don’t come, I just wanna get home right now,’ he tries to tell you, but your body is moving when you hear his small voice, how broken he sounds, your keys in your hand and a pair of flipflops that definitely aren’t weather appropriate yet on your feet so you can be out the door faster.

‘Are you still at the bank? Which one is it, I’m heading out right now.’

‘Please…’

‘I’m already in my car, where am I going?’

The resulting silence to your insistence stretches on for so long that you’re about to just try every bank in town until you find him when he gives you the address, and you know the one exactly as you speed off towards it. You arrive about ten minutes later, and you’re scanning the area when you see him huddling from the wind in the alley, his hood up and people giving him cautious glances as they pass. You roll down your window and call out to him, and when he finds you through the gap you can’t help but let out a noise of pain when you see his face; he’s been crying, you hadn’t been able to see because of his hood, but now you can see that his cheeks are damp and his eyes are red, and you hurriedly unlock the passenger door and motion for him to come over.

He hesitates a moment before wiping his cheeks and jogging over, people bumping into him with how busy the street is, but he doesn’t do or say anything even as he gets a couple insults along the way. He opens the door, sits down, and as soon as you ask where he wants to go he hides his face in his hand and starts crying again. You reach out to touch his shoulder but he pulls away, he needs space, and you don’t try again as you drive back to your place.

‘I don’t know why I thought I could do this…’ he mutters to himself as you drive, and the lump in your own throat is so thick that it hurts as you try to swallow it down. You pull back into your parking lot and he finally notices that he doesn’t know this place, and you don’t shut off the engine as you turn back towards him.

‘You don’t have to tell me about it, but I’d like it if you came up with me, please,’ is all you say, and another tear rolls down his cheek before he’s nodding, following you to the front doors. Your place is pretty high up but the elevator ride isn’t awkward as he stuffs himself into the corner opposite of you, where you can’t see him as easily. You reach your floor before you know it so you lead the way to your apartment, and when the door opens and you set your keys back down on the small shelf nearby he takes everything in with an even sadder expression, which isn’t the way you were hoping it would go at all.

‘You- you have a nice home,’ he just says, and before you can thank him he’s already turning back for the door. ‘I shouldn’t have come up, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t talk to me anymore, I’ll leave you alone now-’

‘Whoa, wait, where did this come from?’ you need to know as you stand in front of the door, and he goes to move you aside before pulling back, he doesn’t even want to touch you. ‘Simon, I know I said you didn’t have to talk about it but- what happened in there? Why can’t I talk to you anymore?’

‘Because I’m-’ He flinches away from you as his voice rises, frustration apparent among the sadness, and he leans against the wall with a dull thud. ‘I was accepted into the police academy a few years back, before I got my job at the bar; I was training to be on the bomb squad, I thought my knack for technology could help save lives, and I practiced really hard, learned to disarm nonlethal devices I built myself to show them I could do it, that I could be useful to them.

‘But when they learned I’d been building things they thought I was doing it for the wrong reasons even though there was no danger to them, like I was going to learn how to build actual bombs next using the training I received; I was just learning how to cut the power without setting anything off, I was using fucking coloured lights to do it, there were no explosives on my devices at all! But it was enough to make them think I was a danger to everyone, and they forced me to take a psych exam which I then failed by their standards. I was kicked out of the academy, lost my job when the psych eval was sent to them the following week, even lost my apartment when my landlord got word of everything, this one mistake got me evicted in the middle of winter-!

‘And the guy I talked to today heard about it too, read about all of it when they researched me to see if I was deserving of it, do you know what I heard him say to his supervisor when he thought I was out of earshot? He- he called me “unstable,” and fucking “unqualified” when I told him how much I make a year, like he didn’t trust me to pay it back, like I was a failure before the bar even opened, and maybe he’s right, maybe I am a failure, I shouldn’t have tried, I shouldn’t have fucking tried-!’

He spins and punches the wall he was just leaning against and you tense up, your eyes shutting on instinct at the crash of his knuckles through the drywall; it’s the first time you’ve seen him angry like this and it scares you, but as he pulls his hand back and looks at his bloodied knuckles you feel no fear, just sadness.

‘I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry,’ he apologizes under his breath, hissing as he flexes his fingers, his hand shaking from the pain, and it would be so easy to end it all right there, kick him out too and never see him again after what he’s just told you, just done, but you can’t as you take him gently by the arm and lead him to your couch. You sit him down and go off to find your first aid kit, some big and overly full thing your mother made you buy when you first moved to the city, and you’re thankful for it now as you pull out the unsealed bottle of healing spray and spritz it against his torn skin a couple times.

For once you love the future as he heals, and while he’s fine now you can’t help but take out the gauze and wrap the area next just to make sure, your fingers resting over the fabric and the back of his hand as you hold him in place. ‘You’re not a failure,’ you murmur, and he tries to pull away again but you don’t let him. ‘What happened to you… it really, really fucking sucks, and none of it was fair, but… it doesn’t make you a failure, we can just try again until we find someone who can help you get that loan.’

‘I don’t even want it, not after today.’ There’s not a single trace of a lie in his words, he’s giving up, and you want so badly to hold him but you can’t. ‘It’ll just happen again, this black mark on my life will just keep following me, why even try?’

‘Because it’s your dream, remember? You told me you wanted to connect with people, no one should be able to take that from you.’ You’re moving closer to him, slotting yourself between his legs as your knees hit the bottom of the couch, he can’t run from you like this, but it’s like you’re invisible to him in his misery.

‘But they already did.’

You let go of his hand and get up, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he lets out a sound somewhere between surprise and relief as he’s pressed into the couch; you’re practically in his lap like this, and you try to shift until you’re beside him instead, but your arms never leave him as you back up, your frown so deep it’s starting to make your head hurt. ‘They only will when you stop fighting for it, you haven’t lost it yet,’ you tell him in a hushed whisper, and something in him breaks as he crumbles into your hug, his head on your shoulder as he grips the back of your shirt as hard as he can, like he’s drowning at sea and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat.

You pet his hair comfortingly as he keeps talking into your shoulder about how it went, how he felt so worthless when he was rejected, how he tried to explain himself but it was all shut down, the man hadn’t even wanted to hear it because he’d heard enough, how he was so upset and hurt and angry that he was afraid of himself and what he’d do, and you just comfort him as he lets it all out. It takes a while but you never rush him, or interrupt him as he vents, you just keep holding him until he’s ready to let you go. You separate, and his eyes are so red as they avoid looking at you, but you just brush his bangs to the side before getting up and grabbing the tissues.

You hand him the box, and the smile he gives you isn’t as sad as he grabs a few, the lump in your throat easing up a bit at the sight. ‘I know you probably aren’t in the mood to celebrate, but if you just wanna grab some food and watch a movie anyway I could order something, or make something here? I think the Hotel might deliver this far, lemme see if it’s on Dumbwaiter.’ You’re already on your phone to check but he’s standing, his used tissues bunched in his hand as he looks for your garbage bin, his eyes on the ground again.

‘I’m not very hungry, thank you but I think I just wanna head home,’ he says after throwing them away, and your hand lowers as you take a step towards him, standing between him and the door again.

‘Please.’ You don’t mean for it to come out but it does, this is about him, not you, you have no right to ask him to stay when he needs space, but you can’t leave him like this, not now. Finally he meets your eye, and you can see that he wants to stay as badly as you want him to, and he opens his mouth to say something before he closes the gap, stands next to you and looks down at your phone. He taps your screen back to life and scrolls before he finds the Hotel’s real name in the list of places on Dumbwaiter’s delivery partnership, and he gives the name another tap before giving you the smallest smile, and it’s genuine and even less sad as his shoulder presses into yours.

‘Order the pasta today, all of their sauces are rich and they always serve too much, and get us the goat cheese spinach dip, it’s to die for,’ he says, his voice still wavering a bit after all his crying, and you just nod before adding it all to your cart, Simon taking off his shoes so he can get comfy on your couch properly this time. You pay for the meal and join him, offering him the remote but he has nothing he wants to watch, so you go to your favourites and pick the stupidest, funniest comedy you can find, needing something silly to lift the mood, and as the food is delivered and you both laugh with full mouths that almost get you to choke you end up wishing you could have this forever, that you could move to his side and hold him again.

You don’t, your phones on the coffee table along with your plates, the space between you feeling so much wider than it actually was as he stays with you until the sun sets.

Now that he’s been to your place your friendship only grows, your meetups changing from Friday lunches to properly hanging out, and it isn’t often he gets free time between his two jobs, but most nights of his are free and you’re always ready to drop whatever you can to see him when he asks. Because of your eagerness you’re slowly becoming a pro at keeping up with your own work, the need to procrastinate fading away like never before since being caught up meant you could go to him wherever he waited. You met him at both jobs, at the Hotel - which he got you to start saying as well since he never called it by its real name - and at the park, sometimes at the mall if there was something he needed to get and he wanted some company, but you’ve still never seen his place, and you’re starting to wonder where he lived.

You know it’s in town, since he got to and from work via Brougham and being outside of town would be hell on his paychecks, but you have no idea which part other than the fact that he used to live near the Hotel when he was a kid. You’ve tried asking before, but each time you do he just brushes it off, makes some excuse to why you couldn’t pick him up or drop him off there, and you’re starting to get a bit suspicious if you were entirely honest. You know he’s not homeless, he’s told you before how it took him a bit but he did manage to find someplace permanent and all his after his eviction, but this is getting ridiculous you think when he comes up with yet another excuse as to why you can drop him off on this random street you’re driving down, he lives nearby, he can walk the rest of the way.

‘Simon, you’ve got six bags of groceries in the back seat, it is literally impossible for you to walk home with them all,’ you say firmly as he just keeps looking out the window, and his lips purse as he tries something else.

‘It isn’t far and they’re not that heavy, I can do three per hand,’ he insists, and you step on the brakes in the middle of the road, no one coming or going as he jerks forwards in his seat at the inertia.

‘Why don’t you want me to see your place?’ you ask bluntly, no longer holding back, and he gets defensive, he’s more open with his anger around you now, but he hasn’t gotten as upset since that day, and you know it’s because he doesn’t want to lose control again, doesn’t want to scare you or himself like that again.

‘I never said I didn’t.’

‘You don’t need to; is it bad neighbours, or a bad neighbourhood? I don’t care where you live, or what your place looks like, I swear I don’t, so you don’t have to keep me away,’ you tell him honestly, and for a moment you think he might tell you when he unlocks his door and heads to the back. You just sigh as he gathers everything up in both hands and thanks you for the ride, but it really is close, you don’t have to waste gas going the rest of the day, he’ll see you Friday.

‘And… you don’t wanna know where I live,’ he mutters mostly to himself before the door closes, and he’s clearly weighed down by everything but he sticks with it, and you watch him just keep going further and further down the street until you have no choice but to take a U-turn and head home, and he’s still in your rearview as you hit a right and he’s forced to disappear around the corner behind you.

It’s a little awkward for you both after that, so you don’t bring it up again to make sure things even out, and it seems to help as you keep meeting up everywhere but his place, wherever the hell it is. He’s been to yours enough times now that you almost consider giving him a spare key so he can invite himself over, but it feels too personal for friends, and when you joke about it to test the waters he nearly spits out his drink in surprise. You clarify that it’s a joke as he sputters out that he’s never had someone’s spare key before, he’s never known anyone long enough for that.

‘You’ve known me for quite a few months now, maybe it might come in handle to have a spare out there in case of emergencies,’ you say next, instantly backtracking on the joke aspect of it with a little hope, and despite you initially calling it so he also looks a little hopeful at the possibility before his phone pings loudly. The moment is ruined as he stops your post-lunch walk through the park to see who’s messaging him, and his eyes widen as his smile grows and his face flushes. ‘LoveMatch, I assume?’ you ask, your teeth clenching in jealousy behind your smile.

‘Yeah, I’ve been messaging this one girl, Jeannie, a few days now,’ he tells you as he clicks in to see what she said, and his smile is so bright at her reply that you feel your stomach drop, your jealousy transforming into something that feels so much worse. ‘I think I’m gunna ask her on a date soon, when I can get an afternoon off so we don’t meet up too late, what do you think? Or should we talk a bit more first?’

The urge to tell him he should definitely talk more first arises because it’s true, you know what meeting too soon can do to a relationship before you can get a better feel for someone, but you also want them to meet before they’re ready; you want her to go in blind because you already know how to talk to him, know that there’s no way she’ll be able to get him out of his shell enough to consider a second date. You know he’ll be nervous, so he might say something weird like he did that first time you chatted over Facsimile, and if he does then there’s a good chance she might leave the date not wanting more.

You can’t do that though, you don’t want to see him rejected like that ever again after the loan, so you ball up your fist and give him a playful tap to the shoulder as he waits for your response. ‘Give it a little more time, get to know each other better, the perfect time for a date will show itself eventually, and if it doesn’t then maybe it’s just not meant to be,’ you suggest, and he nods before one-handedly typing out a reply back to her and putting his phone away.

‘You’re so good with this kinda stuff, I haven’t been on a real date before, it’s why I signed up for LoveMatch to begin with, so I never know where to start whenever I get a match,’ he confesses as you go back to walking, your fist still balled painfully as you hide it in your jacket pocket.

‘I’ve been on way too many bad dates by now, I’d like to think I’m a bit of an expert on it.’ Your laugh is strained but he doesn’t seem to notice as he looks straight ahead, his cheeks still pink now that she’s on his mind.

‘I can’t wait to meet her, she works at a flower shop nearby but I haven’t been in yet, I don’t wanna creep her out or anything,’ he says as his shyness crops up again, his expression cute until you remember this isn’t for you, it’s for her.

‘Just keep talking to her and it’ll happen, and who knows? Maybe she’ll like you as mu-’ You stop yourself from saying, ‘as much as I do,’ the words unable to come out as he turns to face you with a curious expression. ‘As much as I know she will,’ you finish, and he grins at the ground before taking another drink, your shoulders bumping for just a moment before he steps to the left to give you a bit more space, and you have to grip the inside of your pocket to keep from pulling him back to you.

About a week later he messages you as you’re working, your phone lighting up and buzzing energetically near your hand, and when you open the chat he tells you that she asked him on a date. Your face falls as you force a smile he can’t see, your thumbs typing him a congrats you don’t mean, not entirely, and when he says that he’s going to take her to the park you feel almost betrayed; you know it’s not your park, it’s just someplace you visit sometimes, it wasn’t like he was bringing her to the Hotel for lunch, that would hurt so much worse.

He then says he’s been thinking about packing a picnic since it felt more romantic, and that he was going to bring roses in her favourite colours since she told him she couldn’t decide between red or orange when they were talking about it, and you almost put down your phone as your chest aches. You want it to be you, you want him to ask you to the park for a picnic, you want to be able to pack your own favourites to share with him there now that the weather is nice again, you want him to bring you roses in your favourite colours even though you’re not even that much of a flower person just because they’re from him and he’s thinking of you.

You want to be her.

You tell him that that sounds like a great idea, she’ll love it, he should tell you how it goes afterwards if he wants to, which he does, since you’re his friend.

You’re his friend.

You send him a bunch of fingers crossed emojis and get back to work so he can start planning, the date is this weekend after all and he has things he has to do now, and when you go to bed that night your thumb hovers over the Sign Up button on LoveMatch’s mobile app until you fall asleep.

Three days later you find yourself lurking outside of the park even though you fought all morning not to, not knowing the exact time they were going to meet up and spending every second continuing that fight as you tell yourself to leave before you got hurt even more. You parked a block away so he wouldn’t recognize your car, and you’re wearing one of your thicker hoodies that you prefer to save for colder weather even though it’s making you sweat like crazy, the hood up as you walk around and see if you can find him. You’ve been there for hours now when you finally decide to go, this was stupid and petty and way too jealous to be acceptable no matter how you felt for him, and just as you’re about to leave you hear his voice echo faintly across the open area.

You look over and see him approach an unfamiliar woman, Jeannie, a big bouquet of roses in his hand and his Brougham waiting for him with an open door by the curb where he was dropped off at. He waves nervously at her, and she flashes him a big smile as he hands her the roses, she seems happy about them, and they chat for a little bit as you get a good vantage point behind a nearby tree. There’s people looking at you as they pass but you don’t care, you can’t leave now, and your jealousy turns to shocked offense as you watch her expression slowly fall.

She’s uncomfortable, he’s said something that she didn’t like just like you’d feared, and he picks up on it and motions for her to wait before he jogs back to the car, he’s still going to try and fix it with the picnic. The moment he’s away from her she puts the roses down on the bench they’re standing by and bails, her footsteps fast as she puts as much distance between them before his return, and your body moves on its own as you want to chase her down, demand to know why she did that. You lose her as you hear him come back to the bench, his voice calling out to her again but she’s long gone, and you freeze with your back to him as you hear him set down the basket, his car already driving off and stranding him there.

The lump is already forming in your throat again when you hear your phone go off, and when you pick up and turn to face him he’s already looking at you, having heard the ringtone you’d assigned to him from your short distance away. He looks hurt at your presence at first, then upset, then angry, and he leaves both the roses and the basket behind as he starts to walk away.

‘Simon, wait,’ you call out to him as you race after him, his long legs carrying him farther and faster as you quickly catch up, but you being there is just insult to injury and he does not want you to be there for him today.

‘You saw it all, didn’t you?’ he demands as he just keeps walking with no destination, needing to get away from you and his heartbreak as fast as he can, and you try to walk backwards in front of him but you can’t keep the pace, not when he keeps changing directions every time you catch up.

‘I’m sorry, I wanted to make sure it went okay,’ you confess before you can come up with yet another lie, and he scoffs at it bitterly.

‘Wanted to make sure I didn’t fuck it up like the loan, right? Well, sorry to break it to you, but I fucked it up again, I’m just one big fuckup!’ He takes another sharp turn to try and lose you in a dense crowd but you grab onto him, use him like an anchor as he tries to jerk away enough to make you let go, but your grip is strong and true as not even that works.

‘You aren’t a fuckup!’ you insist desperately in a too loud voice for being in public, a group of mothers with strollers giving you the dirtiest look at your language, but you just give them a ‘give me a break’ look back before turning your attention back to him. ‘She just doesn’t know you yet, what did you say? Maybe you can still fix it? Or you could try one of your other matches? She isn’t the only one out there, you don’t need her!’

‘I told her that I wanted to meet her at work,’ he says, and that’s not so bad until he explains why it upset her. ‘I told her that I saw her place of work in the trashed data and I wanted to surprise her by ordering the roses from her, and she didn’t like it.’

Yeah, that’ll do it.

‘She- she didn’t get that you weren’t looking her up to doxx her or stalk her or anything?’ you hurriedly ask, and he just shakes his head, his pace slowing as you exit the main road and head down a less busy street, somewhere more private, probably unintentionally on his part.

‘No, I tried to explain that but her expression said it all, and when I got back…’ He slows even more, you both know how it ended and his lip is quivering. ‘She didn’t even have to guts to say goodbye, she just wanted to leave me there like I could be thrown out like the roses, like trash, that fucking bitch!’ He kicks the trashcan you’re about to pass and it crashes hard to the ground, the contents spilling all over the sidewalk as he loses control of his anger again. ‘I’m a person, goddamnit, why does this keep…’

You step around the trash as the wind blows it into your path, creating a river between the two of you that you cross to get to him, and this time when you try to hug him he steps back, puts a hand up to keep you away.

‘Don’t, just- don’t, I can’t be touched by you right now,’ he says softly, and he isn’t crying but he looks about to as you obediently back up, the trash spreading around you and making the river swell. ‘I’m going home, I’m sorry you keep having to deal with me.’

You try to tell him otherwise but he isn’t listening as he pulls up his hood and heads back to the main road, a cab hailed before he gets in and drives away, leaves you there alone. You lower your own hood and unzip your hoodie so your body can cool a little as you walk back to your car, and when you reach the bench you see that there’s a small group of concerned people gathering around the basket, all of them clearly thinking that it might be something dangerous.

‘That’s mine, sorry, it’s just a picnic,’ you say as you approach it, and everyone can’t help but peer inside as you prove it to them. In that quick glimpse you can see that he worked hard on the contents within, he made a whole bunch and even grabbed a few different drinks as well as a bottle of wine to split, and you swallow as you relatch the lid and grab the handle. The roses are still there too and you pick them up, they’re the synthetic kind you can tell as their scent is muted compared to the real thing, he wanted her to keep them for a while without them dying, and you hold them close to your chest as you finish the trek to your car.

You don’t look at the items in your passenger seat until you get home, and when you reach your apartment you put the flowers in a waterless vase and spread out the picnic on your coffee table. You choose your favourite drink, of course he would’ve brought it out of all the possible options, and open up the wine as well as you enjoy the picnic by yourself, not wanting to let it go to waste as you try not to notice how large your couch was without him there to enjoy it with you.

He ignores your messages for a while after that, so you stop texting him to give him some space, but that doesn’t stop you from at least typing everything out and deleting it before the temptation to press send overtakes you. You look him up on LoveMatch and see that he’s offline, and after looking up Jeannie’s name you discover a recent post she made in the site’s forums section; you click in and see that she completely tried to ruin his reputation on the site, warning others to stay away from him, calling him creepy and a stalker and claiming that he would doxx any matches. Your heart races as the comments join in, insulting his picture and saying he looked like a creep, how some said they had messaged him but now they were going to block, thanking her for the warning and telling her how sorry they were for having to deal with that.

You nearly come to his rescue but there’s no point, they’ve already made up their minds, and you instead flag the post as harassment and pray that it got taken down before he saw it.

He’s seen it.

He sends you the link without another word, your request to remove it denied, and when you look for his profile you find it gone.

He misses your next Friday lunch, and you figure enough is enough as you decide that if he wasn’t going to talk to you then you were going to talk to him. You wait until he gets off work before parking across from the bar, and you keep your distance as he hails a ride and heads home for the night. Your hands are gripping the wheel way too hard the entire way there, and when the car turns into a large, mostly empty lot sans a bunch of trailers parked inside as well as a few storage containers and miscellaneous vehicles and construction things for the building across the street you just keep going and pretend like you weren’t just following him. You wait until his ride leaves as you park nearby, and you casually walk up to the one you saw him heading for and hope that he won’t kick you out immediately as you knock on the door.

There’s the sound of stumbling from inside until the door opens and you step out of its way, Simon just looking at you before a cacophony of emotions plays across his face. ‘Hey,’ you say when he doesn’t shut the door right away, ‘you stopped answering my messages, I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘So you followed me?’ He’s more surprised than angry, which is good, but you don’t know how long it’ll last so you talk fast, needing to get it out while you have the chance.

‘You never told me where you lived, I improvised, I’m not the one with access to trashed data here,’ you try to joke, but neither of you laugh as you just stand there on his makeshift porch, which is just big enough to hold a single lawn chair and nothing else, another sign of his isolation.

‘I never wanted you to come here,’ he mutters just quietly enough that you almost miss it, and when you lean in to listen his expression hardens. ‘Your place is so nice, you’ve got a nice view, everything is so open, you do so well for yourself. But me, even with two jobs this is all I can afford, I can’t save up for my bar when I have bills to pay, can’t get a loan because I can’t pay it off if it fails, you’ve got everything so put together and I’m-’ He stops, he’s been looking at the ground the entire time but when he falls silent he makes a point to purposefully not look at you, and you can see the shine in his eyes as he shifts from foot to foot, resists slamming the door in your face. ‘I’m a fucking loser.’

‘You’re not-’

‘I got kicked out of the academy, I got evicted, I got denied for my loan, I got dumped before my date even started and now every other match I made has me blocked, I live in a fucking trailer because I can’t afford rent in the city anymore and it’s cheap to live out this far, how am I not a loser?’ He quiets down when he starts yelling out all the reasons why he was worthless, his voice echoing over the lot, and he tries to shut the door when your hand shoots out and holds it open the second you see it move. ‘I just- I don’t understand why you keep talking to me after all that, why do you keep coming back? Why haven’t you left like everyone else? Why won’t you just- leave me alone…?’

You swallow and walk up the two-step stairs, Simon backing up until you let yourself in, the door shutting behind you and trapping your voices inside so they can’t carry anymore. ‘Because none of that defines you, it happened to you but that isn’t who you are,’ you tell him, and he’s hunched over now that he’s inside, the ceiling not high enough to accommodate him in his own home.

‘And who am I?’ he asked pathetically, but you don’t see him as pathetic, not even now as you see his home and how bare it is, the nicest thing he owns his computer over by the far window, the setup grand and expensive looking, and you fondly think to yourself that he probably built it all himself.

‘You’re smart, you’re so fucking smart, and you’re easy to talk to, and you’re a bit weird sometimes, and you word things kinda badly at the worst of times but you’re not a creep, and you’re passionate about what you want and it’s so unfair that no one’s given you a proper chance, or gotten to know the real you, not just what they’ve heard and assumed about you. You’re not a bad guy, you’re more than your black marks, you’re Simon.’

He blinks and a tear falls from his eye to the floor thanks to the angle his neck is forced to be, but he never sits even though it must be hurting him, and you wonder if maybe you’ve gotten through to him when he catches you completely off guard with what he says next: ‘Would you still think that if you knew the real me?’

‘What do you mean?’ You’ve known him for half a year now, there wasn’t any side of him you hadn’t seen yet, but apparently there was as another tear falls.

‘I killed someone, about five years ago now.’

You stagger back into the door, the wind knocked out of you at this revelation, and he shuts his eyes and looks away from your expression as one of pain takes over his own face. ‘What are you talking about?’ you ask quietly, your voice failing you the first time you try, and he flinches at your words like you’d just screamed them in his face.

‘Back when I was evicted I was looking for people to room with, just temporarily until I could get back on my feet, and this guy had answered my ad, invited me over to check out his place. I should’ve been more cautious but it was so cold I couldn’t wait, and when I got there he tried to mug me, take whatever I had left. I fought back in self-defense, but when I almost got away he started attacking me, wanted to keep me there until his actual roommate got home so he had help, and I-’ He sits down then, his hands shaking as he goes back to that time, and your back leaves the door as he looks up at you with such sadness that your chest feels hollow. ‘He tried to kill me, I was only trying to defend myself, I didn’t mean to hurt him so bad, I just wanted to find somewhere to stay, it was so cold outside…’

‘What happened after that?’ You think you might’ve just mouthed the words with how much your voice breaks, but he understands you anyways.

‘The roommate came home while I- while it was happening, called the cops, and when they saw me standing there covered in blood, holding the knife still, they instantly ruled it as a homicide and arrested me. I was able to plead not guilty but they took one look at my bad psych eval and thought I’d snapped, killed him outta malice or something, it was only by a miracle that the evidence was in my favour.’

‘And the roommate?’

‘They searched the place and found evidence of all the others before me that’d fallen for the con, he was charged and arrested and I made bail, but after that my mother never talked to me again, even though I was acquitted.’ It looks like a weight’s been lifted now that he’s said it, but he also looks so fucking tired, most of him taking up his small loveseat couch. You want to go to him but you can’t move, your body refusing to shift even an inch in case he didn’t want you to, and he looks you over before something in his eyes begs you please; you let out a small noise as you fall to the ground between his knees, your hand holding his just like you had when you’d wrapped him up.

‘Why are you still here? Why haven’t you thrown me out yet?’ he weakly asks you, and you can’t lie to him any longer as you hold his hand up to your cheek.

‘Don’t you know what you mean to me?’ you need to know, your voice so small that again you’re not even sure if any of it even comes out, and he lets out a breath that sounds so desperate and broken it makes you wonder just how long he’s been holding it: days, weeks, months, since the moment you met?

‘I didn’t want to hope- you… you’re my only friend, I didn’t want to ruin everything and lose you too,’ he whispers as he properly holds you, his palm so warm against your skin, and you lean into his touch as you let out the breath you were holding in return.

‘You almost broke my heart when you said you went back to LoveMatch, I wanted to tell you so badly,’ you’re finally able to confess, and when you do his other hand finds your arm, holds you with just enough pressure that you know he wants you there.

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t want to ruin everything either.’

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours, and when you open your eyes and look into his you can see everything you ever wanted again, all of it feeling so real and within reach as you brush his bangs aside, rest your hand on the back of his neck. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, and he’s shaking slightly like he’s afraid to touch you even though he already is because this time it’d be his decision to, his lips parting as he stares down at your own, and when he touches you you lean up and close the space between you.

He sighs against your mouth as you kiss him, it so full of relief and contentment and joy, and you wrap your arms around his neck again as you successfully sit in his lap this time. His lack of experience is apparent but you have no complaints as you deepen the kiss, needing more now that you could have it, and he lets you have everything you ever wanted as he leans back against the cushions until his head hits the metal wall behind him. He mutters an ow as he lets go of you to rub his head, and you laugh before catching his mouth again, which he eagerly allows you to do; he eats up all your attention, starving for it as he gets more into it, needing whatever you can give after so many rejections, and you’re happy to give it all back as you kiss his neck.

‘I was so proud of you when you told me you were trying for the loan, I really wanted to celebrate with you,’ you whisper into his skin, and you can feel him shiver as he lets out a soft moan and tilts his head to the side so you have easier access. ‘You’ve been trying so hard, please let me reward you, I want to be the first to…’

He moans your name as his hips start to move, try to find friction against you, and you shift until he does, his jaw going slack as he holds you by your thighs, perfects the angle even more.

‘When I saw you with her I wanted it to be me, I hated myself for wanting her to go, but she didn’t deserve you, I’ll never leave, and I want the next time we meet to be a real date, whether it’s at the Hotel or the park or my place or here, I want to be with you.’

He makes a noise of pure want, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to swallow back the sob that follows, he was always weak to your compliments but you need him to know how worth it he is to you, how much he deserves this after everything he’s been through.

‘You’re wonderful, I love spending time with you, you’re everything I want.’

A tear escapes between his tightly shut eyelids and you kiss it away before going to his jaw, pressing your lips along it before you find his mouth again.

‘I really like you, Simon, you mean so much to me, I’m so glad I got to meet you.’

He’s practically whimpering in your lap as he cries harder, his hips never stopping, he needs this so much but so do you, and you let him use you as the growing pressure wrenches a moan from your lips.

‘I love-’

You don’t get to finish as he comes apart underneath you, his body shuddering as he grips you tight and gasps out a series of choked out moans, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel it all travel from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. You feel the heat between your thighs as he slowly catches his breath, his cheeks turning red under streams of tears in embarrassment for coming from just this much, but you just kiss the tip of his nose and rest your chest against his, let him feel how hard your heart was beating.

‘I love you,’ you whisper now that you can, and he looks at you like you’ve just given him the sun and the moon on a golden platter.

‘I’m so glad I texted you back then,’ he confesses against your cheek, his hands leaving your thighs to rest on your back, keeping you close, ‘I think I started to love you the moment you wanted to actually talk to me.’

‘Lucky for me your standards are so low,’ you joke, but it falls flat in the best of ways as he nuzzles into your neck.

‘It was all I needed, I just wanted someone to believe in me.’ He presses a single kiss to the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and your nails scrape lightly against his scalp as you let out a sigh at the feeling.

‘I told you, I’ll keep cheering you on until it works,’ you remind him, and he sits up straight so he can hold you even closer in his hug, your bodies fitting together perfectly as you hold him back and don’t let go.

The snow is falling lightly outside as you stretch in your chair, your back cracking as you raise your arms high above your head. You’re all done for the day, everything on your list checked off as you glance at the time and see that it’s almost 8PM, he’ll be there soon. You stand and bring the feeling back to your legs before grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, queuing up the next episode of the show you’re marathoning only one at a time each night. You let the recap and intro play and then press pause, it’s nearly time now, and you’re in the middle of grabbing the plates and utensils when you hear a knock at the door. You unlock it and open up to reveal Simon on the other side, all bound up in a large winter jacket, his scarf pulled up high enough to cover his nose and mouth from the cold.

‘You forget your key at work again?’ you tease as he walks in, trailing snow over to the mat where he can take his boots off.

‘Kinda hard to unlock the door with both hands full,’ he points out with a smirk as he then sets the food brought from said work on the table. ‘It’s busy tonight despite the snow, lots of people coming in to escape the chill, had to order these early to make sure they were done on time.’

‘You know I can always make something before you get back, you don’t have to keep bothering Elison over it,’ you remind him, but he won’t hear of it, he loves being able to bring you back something so you don’t have to stop working until you’re ready and you know it.

‘I convinced him to leave the Hotel to come work for me, might as well use him,’ is what he has to say to that, and you can’t argue with it as you both transfer your dinners onto the plates you set out. ‘Besides, it’s the only way I can get my favourites without having to drive across town, that’s a good enough reason to keep bothering him.’

You hum in agreement as you sit down together, the episode playing as soon as you’re settled, and when you’re done eating he curls up next to you, rests his head against your shoulder even though it hurts his neck. You take pity on him and adjust so he can lay more properly, his face still red from the winter chill, and you find yourself paying more attention to him until he feels your eyes on him.

‘You think we can do two episodes tonight before you go back? We’re so close to the season finale,’ you plead in that tone of voice that always gets him, and he looks like he really wants to say yes but he can’t, he doesn’t like leaving the place for so long as is even though his staff is more than capable of watching over things for an hour without him; outside of the weekend it’s the only time you can be together until he gets home at 2AM, when you’re already asleep most nights, and before he leaves again by 9AM, at least until the new year where he plans on hiring more staff if things keep getting better.

‘Not tonight, maybe tomorrow if it’ll calm down when the storm hits, I’ll call it early if it’s bad enough,’ he promises, and you smile and hold his hand as you rewind the episode back to before you stopped watching.

‘Should I be so jealous of a bar?’ you ask rhetorically, and he answers you yes before you playfully hit him and press play again. ‘Maybe I should start working for you part-time, I miss our Friday lunches, you’re too busy for me now.’

‘I’m never too busy for you,’ he reassures you so gently and genuinely before kissing you, the scene you just rewound to getting ignored again as you don’t let him go after just one. ‘I wouldn’t mind having you there, though, even if I think we might not get a lot done whenever you’re there.’

‘I’m just trying to make some C0NN3CT10N$,’ you say as slowly and as slyly as you can, drawing out the word as he just stares at you, ‘y’know like the bar’s na-’

He silences you with another kiss, this one a little more chaste as he laughs against your lips. ‘Yeah, yeah I know,’ he chuckles, and once again the episode is rewound so you can watch it, your arms around him for the rest of the hour he sets aside just for you each night, and in your head you make a mental note to thank your mother for recommending that son of a friend of a friend of a co-worker 10 months too late as he lovingly holds you right back.

#Ray's Readers #david dastmalchian #simon lynch #simon lynch x reader #his writing song was Bare by Wildes and it was so good I had to change the title halfway through #rewatching the end where the views go up and he's just crying at all the praise had me constantly like 😭 I CAN SAVE HIM YOU GUYS #the Hotel in this fic is real and across the street from me and I think me and my family are the only ones in town who still call it that!

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gatheringbones · 11 months

Text

[“Many victims may not even see political coercion from their partners as an abusive act. In our conversation, Tawni Maisonneuve, the survivor and advocate I referenced earlier, attributed this in part to the reality that we still “have a hard time believing emotional and mental abuse occurs,” let alone recognizing political control over a partner as abusive. But Maisonneuve experienced abuse in this form firsthand, from multiple abusive partners obstructing her access to political information, and at different points, even controlling her voting. She finally began to understand her partners’ political coercion of her as abuse when, in 2013, she joined a program that she called “intense victim recovery therapy.”

“In that group, our instructor brought up that sort of behavior. I never really thought of it before as if it was some kind of control,” Maisonneuve said of her former abuser’s control over her politics. She added that she doesn’t think a lot of people talk about “politics in domestic abuse” because “they think, ‘oh, yeah, it’s an argument anyway’ or ‘yeah, people don’t usually see eye-to-eye” and dismiss the potential of these “disagreements” to yield violent outcomes and disenfranchisement.

Yet in many ways, Maisonneuve believes controlling a partner’s vote is one of the most powerful forms of abuse. “When you look at that, if I can control the way you vote even in your community and everything else, I know I really have control of you at home. That’s what we dove into in my victim recovery class,” she said.

Maisonneuve recounted how her “first marriage was the hardest one when it came to voting.” Prior to her abusive marriage, she had worked as a manager in a state senator’s office and had deep roots in community activism and political engagement. “It turned into a situation where I didn’t even register to vote anymore,” Maisonneuve said. Again, her divorce was finalized in 1994, but she says she “didn’t even vote after that for the simple fact that I didn’t want to run into [her ex-husband] at any polls” or “deal with any of those dynamics.” In her next relationship, Maisonneuve’s partner accompanied her to polling places and voted on her behalf. “I felt if I didn’t vote the way he did, or I didn’t agree with those political views, it would really be a physical issue,” she said. “So whenever I would go vote with him, I would need to get things approved before I submitted them. And he would tell the people, ‘Oh, she’s slow, I gotta walk her through it.’ It was those kinds of humiliating things that I dealt with when I went to go vote, when I was in bad relationships.”

This might seem like a lot of effort from her ex-partner, all for one vote that’s hardly likely to sway an election. But according to Maisonneuve, this extent of calculation and control by an abuser isn’t at all out of the ordinary. For an abuser, acts of political coercion including controlling a partner’s vote aren’t necessarily about impacting an election or achieving specific political outcomes, but making their victim feel powerless, denying them agency in the home and in society at large. “It’s about complete power and control,” she said, “where there’s no room for disagreement, no room for your own opinions or even your own thoughts.” Maisonneuve said she also thinks political control within abusive relationships is rarely discussed because of the broad cultural misunderstanding that it’s easy for victims to get the resources they need to leave and be autonomous after an abusive relationship. “But we don’t even really have victim recovery services, we have battery intervention programs, sure—but unless a victim really, really seeks out some mental health help, it’s not even really offered to us,” she said. “We’re given protection orders, or people think you’re at a shelter so everything’s fine. But victim recovery services are far in between, just like shelters.”]

kylie cheung, from survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy, 2023

#kylie cheung #currently reading #cw abuse #cw rape #cw racism #history stuff

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teecupangel · 1 year

Note

I've been replaying Nobodies and in the middle of the second game I thought "Hey this guy talks like Desmond!" then I thought it would be pretty funny if Desmond became a murder cleaner lol

Nobodies: Murder Cleaner is available for Android, PC (via Steam) and Apple if you want to try it. It’s a point and click game where you play as a member of a secret government organization and your job is to clean up after other members have killed the target.

So we have two option for this idea.

Option 1: Canon ‘Verse where Desmond becomes a Cleaner instead of a Bartender

In this one, the only thing we have to tweak is what Desmond’s history becomes when he left the Farm. Maybe he saw one of the Cleaners doing their job in Rapid City and the Cleaner didn’t want to kill a kid to cover his tracks so he makes Desmond his accomplice, helping him clean it up, all the while teaching him the ‘craft’. After that, Desmond tags along because the Cleaner says that’s the only way he’ll survive and maybe Desmond’s upbringing mess him up enough that he thinks this is okay. That this kind of life is actually better than the life he had back on the Farm. The Cleaner keeps a close eye on him and notices how ‘unique’ Desmond’s upbringing is. He even thinks Desmond has what it takes to actually be one of the ‘messy ones’ but Desmond preferred to clean. It feels… more distant to his life before.

We get our timeskip and Desmond is one of the best cleaners out there. His identity is ironclad because his Cleaner mentor gave him a new one and their organization made it official since they do have a bit of leeway with the government. In exchange, Desmond will be in their service which he doesn’t mind because the organization pays for everything he needs (other than the equipment and items he might actually need when it was time to clean up because having such equipment with him when he gets to the scene would be security guard bait).

At this point, the organization has an idea that Abstergo is very sus and there’s a shadowy organization that does questionable things against Abstergo most of the time. They don’t know the full story though but Desmond believes that his parents’ cult is actually an ecoterrorist group. He keeps it to himself though since he doesn’t want to be anywhere close to them.

With the backing of the organization and his more honed skills and espionage, Desmond is actually more or less a ghost even to Abstergo. They know Desmond Miles exist but they also know that he disappeared nine years ago. Desmond’s government records are all fake data but authenticated by the government itself. Hell, he even has an SSN and tax records. (Your call if he keeps his Desmond Miles name or he changes to like Desmond Miller or full on fake name like Derek Milton or something XD)

If you still want Desmond to be part of the Animus Project or to kickstart the main plot, Desmond gets caught because the organization has traitors and one of them took him while he was cleaning a scene that turned out to be a trap. However, Desmond knows how to play the game and his childhood training only help him become better at his job.

If Vidic kept the same ‘security’ in AC1 (cameras only, no visible guards), Desmond would find a way to kill Vidic and (maybe) Lucy before the guards even get there. Once he gets access to the computer (thanks, Lucy), tampering with the security feed would be easy because he’s done it before as a Cleaner. He’s also used to using items and devices he sees on the ‘scene’ so yeah…

Before the even finishes Altaïr’s memories, he’d most probably already made his escape after cleaning the scene.

And that’s when…

The Bleeding Effect starts…

Option 2: Full Spy AU where every Assassin is messy and Desmond has to clean after them

Okay, this one plays loose with the lore.

In this one, the Brotherhood is a secret organization that has the capital and the influence that a usual Hollywood super spy organization has.

And Desmond is the poor son of a high ranking member of the organization. He was being trained to be an operative but he didn’t want to be an operative like his father.

So… he became a cleaner instead.

In this one, I think it would be fun if Desmond is just some poor cleaner who has to clean up for the messiest of the operatives because he’s one of the best cleaners.

So the setup could be Desmond appearing on the scene and deducing which of his messy ‘regulars’ did this one and he all have nicknames for each of them.

One of them is super good at his job that Desmond just have to take care of the body most of the time. That one he calls “the light of my life” because it means a quick easy job then Desmond can just chill somewhere and see the sights until he’s called again.

Another one is someone who always has to chase their target and dear god, Desmond wants to strangle this operative so badly because Desmond has to clean up multiple places and that includes CCTVs used by the local government for the roads and such. That one he calls ‘the bane of my existence’.

The funny thing?

Both operative are the same person: Altaïr who seesaw between absolutely the best or having a bad day that can only be summed up as “the universe is conspiring against him to get some cardio today”.

Of course, there’s a lot more operatives that Desmond cleans after.

There’s one that liked to actually steal shit and Desmond just usually make that a burglary gone wrong most of the time.

There’s another operative who may or may not have a dog that he uses to rip apart his target and Desmond always prays the scene is somewhere outside so he can just make it look like a wild animal attack and always hate it whenever it happens in an office building or anywhere indoors to be completely honest.

There’s another one that tries to be sneaky but that only makes Desmond’s life harder because he has to make sure to look everywhere just to be sure that the sneaky operative didn’t miss or fuck up somewhere.

In other words, Desmond has a lot of complaints for his regular operatives XD

#murder cleaner desmond #two ideas for the ‘price’ of one #lol #yes #i am basing altaïr’s part #on how ac1 assassinations can be super sneaky #or would lead to chasing the targets everywhere XD #ask and answer #assassin's creed #desmond miles #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #i guess i can tag #altaïr ibn la'ahad #too since i did name him specifically XD

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idyllic-affections · 1 year

Note

Your platonic Baizhu fic is so heartwarming!!! Got any more thoughts on that fic???

( Also I think your fic links arent working because they send me to different fic and on chrome instead of the app. Though that might be me ahahaha)

Your amazing and don't let anyone tell you other wise! Bye bye

thoughts on chronically ill!reader.

summary. a collection of random thoughts about baizhu's junior herbalist.

trigger & content warnings. no applicable warnings.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. baizhu & reader, qiqi & reader. 0.3k words. they/them pronouns for reader. i believe the fic that this anon is talking about is invisible disability? it's rather visible to me.

author's thoughts. hello darling! thank you sm, that fic is one of my personal favorites <3 i have SO many thoughts regarding that fic. here are a few of them. feel free to ask me to expand upon anything if you find something interesting!

the implication about baizhu is that he's seeking immortality, right? yeah. i like to think that his sweet lil junior herbalist knows about that and does what little they can to help him—e.g., discreetly seeking information, whether that be through the suspiciously well-informed mr. zhongli or through foreign sources. their morals become somewhat skewed after working with baizhu for a while, but it doesn't really bother them. why would it? baizhu is soft and gentle and kind with them. they aren't afraid of him. they never will be. it's because of his attention and care that they can manage their life. this is how they're returning the favor.

changsheng and [name] ABSOLUTELY, 100% fight for his attention. they have a weird ass family dynamic going on with that snake LMAOO..... baizhu knows about this. he finds it funny.

qiqi and [name] like to wander liyue together. once they develop enough strength and endurance, they'll carry her on their hip and go wherever she directs them. sometimes, baizhu will trail after them (like a father!) and leave the pharmacy in gui's hands. bro is a single dad with two kids and all of liyue knows it.

"baizhu is a coward" not when someone threatens his kid! it's verbal assault ON SIGHT if someone does something to hurt [name]. he hasn't had any need to physically defend them yet thankfully, but he has definitely had a few choice words for certain impatient people.

sometimes baizhu lets them braid his hair after seeing them do it for qiqi a few times. it ends up becoming very normal for them to braid both his and qiqi's hair on slower days.

i hc that there's a room in the pharmacy with low sensory input (dim lighting, limited scents & sound, etc) in the case that anyone needs to rest for whatever reason; migraines, body aches, sensory overload... it's available for any reason at any time of the day. sometimes baizhu and [name] end up in there at the same time and just sit in the silence. it's a bonding ritual of sorts.

thank you for letting me know about the links. i use the tumblr website and it tends to be kind of difficult sometimes; i'll work on fixing the links shortly! in the meantime, if there's any particular fic you'd like easy access to, just send me another ask and i'll direct you to it <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's headcanons 🌸#: [ the junior herbalist! 🌸 ]#astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #baizhu x reader #platonic baizhu x reader #genshin impact x reader

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wuxiaphoenix · 5 months

Text

Isekai Problems: Periodically

Sometimes we forget how many of the things we consider “old” when it comes to building our modern technology are actually very new, historically speaking. The periodic table is less than two centuries old; much less if you count from the time of some later revisions.

(I still side-eye berkelium and other short-lived radioactives. I can’t help but think that smashing things together that no sane man should smash contributed to some of the academic craziness from that direction.)

Face it. If you’re dealing with mostly natural materials and little to no access to electricity, some bits of the periodic table and its components make no sense. Consider common halite, NaCl, also known as table salt. Who in their right minds is going to believe that this pale crystal, absolutely necessary to human survival, is the product of a lethal greenish gas and a silvery metal that catches on fire in water?

Yeah, no. That makes about as much sense as mixing mercury and peach pits and coming up with an Elixir of Immortality.

Yes, I know people tried exactly that. It was a Very Bad Idea. The fact that one of these combos is valid and the other now considered base superstition is just the luck of how the physical world happens to actually work.

Sugar’s just as bad. Soot, a gas that burns, and another gas that keeps things burning, all combine to make a sweet white solid? Get outta here.

And what about air? Would any reasonable person believe that we only usefully breathe about 20% of it as oxygen; the rest (near 80% nitrogen, other trace gases) is just kind of there?

The periodic table is not intuitive. It’s the result of centuries of alchemy, chemistry, logic, the scientific method, and countless lives lost by experimenters accidentally poisoning themselves, blowing themselves up, or something else equally nasty.

(I had an Organic Chem professor who would gleefully recount how many people died from isolating fluorine gas. Organic Chem is insane.)

Nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to reinvent the periodic table if they don’t have to. It’s too easy to kill yourself. Or somebody else. And yet, if you want a real Industrial Revolution, people are going to need it. So what do you do?

Well, honestly, in a lot of isekais it doesn’t come up. Worlds where magic and/or alchemy actually work already have interesting physical laws, and the modern imported character usually has to work on figuring out what they are to use them in ways the setting hasn’t thought of yet. Without killing themselves in the process.

On the other hand, if you want to write an isekai where real physics and chemistry exist, even if magic can modify them-

Then start by considering what your character might reasonably know about chemistry. And look up some compounds in history to start from. Zinc oxide as a sunscreen has been around a long time!

#creative writing #worldbuilding #chemistry #isekai

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mrwolfhare · 11 months

Text

Kind of a drawtober thing. <- Previous

14. Schemes

“Everyone’s clear on the plans then, or do we have to go through it all once more time? Xial, Plax, Udeex, Slag? We good then? Yeah? Great. Tomorrow night we’ll be rich. Just don’t start spending anything until the job’s done.”

“Why you looking at me?”

“Your new eyes, Plax, I know how expensive they are, I got the same ones.”

“I saved up good money for these implants, plus I thought they might be helpful for the job, you know, targeting system, night vision, I can even read the small print on the screen, on your desk, across the room from here.”

“Okay, yeah, does sound like a good upgrade for a lookout. Right, anyone got questions before we rest up for tomorrow?”

“Why are the times different?”

“Who said that?”

“Me.”

“Holy crap, it talks.”

“Shut it, Udeex. What’s wrong with the times, Rocket?”

“The notes. The times for the patrols changed.”

“What do you mean? Give me the pad… looks the same to me.”

“Further back.”

“Further back we got… okay, different patrol times here. And no change in times before then. Plax, you ever going tell me about this?”

“It’s not big of a deal.”

“You understand how tight the timing is for everyone?”

“Yeah, but it won’t matter.”

“Yeah, it will. We planned on the original patrol schedule. Look at this, patrol five, by the time they reach the doors, patrol eight will already be at the vents.”

“Uhm.”

“Plax. Look at me. Were you planning something?”

“No, of course not, it’s just a little mistake in the times, that’s it.”

“Xial, Udeex, hold him.”

“Wait no, I wasn’t planning anything, I swear!”

“You say that, but every time you do, your heart rate spikes. Oh, didn’t you know the implant can pick up lies? Works great for a scrap dealer, makes sure people don’t screw me over. Now tell me, are you trying to screw me over?”

“Jurk, boss, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m all in with everyone here.”

“Wow, two lies after each other. One more and we’ll how see easy we can pluck out those implants. Maybe see if we can access their recent history, have a look at what you were looking at the past few days.”

“No don’t! I tell you the truth! It’s a setup! Topaz paid me!”

“Topaz? The Grandmaster’s Topaz, that Topaz?”

“Yeah! They’re planning capturing everyone during the heist.”

“Okay. I…”

CLICK.

”I appreciate your honesty.”

BLAM!

“…”

“Now what, Boss?”

“Now nothing. They’ll be waiting for us tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, the day after. The job’s a bust. Year’s worth of planning.”

“Flark.”

“Yeah. Okay, we better start scrapping all evidence, Topaz will probably send her guards this way if we don’t show up tomorrow.”

“What about tonight?”

“What’s that, Rocket?”

“They’re not expecting it tonight, are they?”

“Don’t think so… Slag, yank his eyes out and access them.”

“ ’Kay, Boss.”

“Look for all the contact that Plax had with Topaz.”

“Whoa, several meetings with her, boss. Looks like they were putting as much planning on the capture as you had for the heist.”

“You don’t say.”

“What you thinking, Boss?”

“I think we better gear up, taking flight in five minutes. We got a job to do tonight.”

#rocket raccoon #drawtober

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a-solitary-sea-rover-backup · 5 months

Text

Interview with Dawn Riley, 1 April 2024

KaiYves (KY): Hey, everyone, my name is KaiYves from A Solitary Sea Rover, and I’m here with Dawn Riley at Oakcliff Sailing Center, an incredibly famous veteran of offshore sailing. You were in the Whitbread twice, I think?

Dawn Riley (DR): Uh-huh.

KY: Which is now The Ocean Race, in 1989 and then 1993, and then the America’s Cup in 1992, 1995, 2000, 2003, 2007…

DR: 2003, I did the easy part, I was media. (laughs)

KY: And you were in management for–

DR: For 2007, yup.

KY: And today you’re the head of Oakcliff Sailing Center, since 2010, I think?

DR: Yup, absolutely.

KY: And you’re also, as of last year, in the America’s Cup Hall of Fame.

DR: Yes, I’m a triple-famer. America’s Cup Hall of Fame, National Sailing Hall of Fame, and then the Michigan Sports Hall of Fame. So three different organizations, all honoring sailing.

KY: And it only took 30 years.

DR: (laughs) Yeah.

KY: And now there’s four women in the America��s Cup Hall of Fame!

DR: Yup.

KY: …and forty men, right? (laughs)

DR: I have not done the math, but yeah, there’s more men than women across the board. [It's actually more like 100 men and 4 women.]

KY: It’s reflective of the event. So we met at the 12-Metre World Championships last summer in August, that was an incredible weekend, you know, just the level of access there was, being able to walk in and see everyone, being able to see the boats, and photograph them. I was able to help out a little bit.

DR: Yup.

KY: Because you guys needed a phone charger. You let me come on the chase boat, that was incredible, I got to see [the racing] up close… I got kind of seasick, but I still had a wonderful time.

DR: (laughs) Good to know.

KY: And then I helped hose down a little bit afterwards. So I was joking with my friends that I can tell everyone that I was a 12-Metre crewmember for five minutes.

DR: There you go. (laughs) And Courageous is a pretty special yacht.

KY: I said to my friend, “You know, this summer I was a crew member on Ted Turner’s yacht. There’s a lot of clarifiers to that, but…”

DR: (laughs)

At the 12-Metre Worlds.

KY: In a very loose sense I was, yes. You agreed to do this interview with me and let me come visit and I’m super excited for that. I got my Master’s at NYU and a few weeks ago, I was in Greenwich Village. So I went into the Strand Bookstore, the famous bookstore there, for old time’s sake. I was looking around, I was in the basement stacks, looking at the travel, exploration, transportation sections, and while I was there, this is what I found– (pulls out a book wrapped in cloth from her backpack and unwraps it to show it’s Riley’s book Taking the Helm)

DR: Ah. Taking the Helm. (takes book to examine it) Is this one signed?

KY: Oh, yeah, it is.

DR: I think I signed almost all of them.

KY: So I don’t have to bother you for that.

DR: There you go. (laughs)

This is the softcover cover, mine looked slightly different.

KY: I thought, “This is great”, because I’d already made the arrangement to talk to you, “This is a good omen, I think”. It also has this flier from back in the day. (unfolds a paper flier tucked into the dust jacket and hands it to Riley)

DR: Oh my goodness, this is funny. Yup, this was the promo that I sent out. I put together this flier myself and it was to try and do speaking. That’s crazy, I haven’t seen that in for-ever.

KY: Do you want to keep it?

DR: Um, sure. I don’t think 1-800-511-DAWN works anymore, but I’ll check.

KY: You find some really great things at Strand, you know. I found, um, Bertrand Piccard, who went around the world in the balloon, I actually found a signed copy of his book about that at Strand.

DR: Mmm-hmm, OK.

KY: I found a book about the ‘77 America’s Cup that had a newsletter from the ‘83 one inside of it and I said, you know, “I think the flier might be worth more than the book, but…”

DR: (laughs)

KY: So used bookstores are amazing.

DR: Hmm-hmm.

KY: But I was really excited [to read your book] because it was actually the third book I had read about that era of the Round-The-World Race in the past year. I’m working on a fictional story that’s about a fictional team in the 80s in the Whitbread, so I’d read a few different books. I’d read Peter Blake’s book about Ceramco in 1981, I’d read Skip Novak’s about Drum in ‘85– I think you have most of those out there [on the bookshelf in the main room]. And so, I wanted to see and contrast the different people’s voices and so forth. I know I contrasted those [two] as I was reading. I thought, you know, Blake had this very fun, optimistic sort of voice where it’s all this very jolly adventure.

DR: Peter Blake was a good friend of mine. He was an amazing seaman. He and his wife were adventurers. And unfortunately, tragically, he was killed on an adventure in the Amazon. But he was probably one of the most solid and most revered New Zealanders out there.

KY: It was a great book, you know, just this good humor throughout. Whereas Skip Novak’s, it’s a lot more gritty and cynical. He’s talking about people fighting each other, talking about people doing unsanitary things and stuff like that. And I actually thought, just, the way the book opens, where they come into Cape Town really early in the morning and nobody’s there to greet them because they’re sixth, it’s just the officials. And they spray them with champagne and he’s like, you know that’s always the cheap champagne and it makes you sticky and it’s nasty. And he’s like, and now we’re in Cape Town, it’s 1985, and there’s all of these signs that say, ‘No Black People [Allowed] Here’. And so, he’s just very much showing the grittier side of his experience.

DR: Or, more, just the pessimistic side. Knowing Skip, that’s his personality.

KY: Yes.

DR: So both of those people’s personalities come through.

KY: But he also in the end enjoyed this adventure and he still thought it was worth it. So I liked having those two different perspectives. And so I was curious to see, when I read your book, how your perspective compared. And I think you have more of an optimistic voice.

DR: I am eternally optimistic. If I wasn’t, I would not have made anything of my life, because everyone told me I couldn’t. I said, “Oh yeah? Screw you, watch me.” So I’ve been forced to be, but luckily eternally optimistic. Which doesn’t mean I am a Pollyanna. So I’m realistic and prepared as well.

KY: I mean there were some, you know, gritty details, but I thought that it was, overall, more of a “Blake” sort of voice. But what I thought that was in your book that was not really in the other ones was a lot more about emotions and familial connections. And just talking about the people back home and everything. Which is something that made it kind of different. And some really beautiful language.

DR: So I have to have joint credit for that with Cyndy. I kept a running [log], I wrote it during the race and then she cleaned it up. And went back and forth and back and forth on the editing. So it was absolutely a joint editing process. And sometimes my language was way too flowery and she’d bring it back down, and sometimes hers was a little too professional and I’d be like, “That doesn’t sound like me!”, so I’d bring it back.

KY: I love when you’re talking about how you left South America and you were under a sky full of diamonds, going out into a sky full of diamonds.

DR: Yeah, there’s… It was just a couple of years ago, now, so it’s 2024… before COVID, so say 2018, I was down in Florida on a beach… (a phone in the office rings and Riley stops to press a button to silence it) I walked down to the beach at a party and there was nobody else around. I looked up at the sky, I was like, “This is what I miss. I miss being out there.”

KY: I mean, it must be, it’s some of the darkest skies on Earth when you’re in the middle of the ocean.

DR: Yes, of course, you’re out– there’s some points, and I think this was described in the book, some points where you can’t really tell where the sky ends and the water starts. ‘Cause it’s just a circle.

KY: And I loved that. Because I feel like a lot of the time, when you read books from people who did something really interesting, their skills are not in writing so they describe it very simply.

DR: Uh-huh.

KY: And I’m like, okay, so you flew around the world or you climbed Mount Everest, but I don’t really get a sense of what it was like for you. But with you, I did.

DR: Okay, good.

KY: And what I also liked about that book was that I was able to see connections because I’ve read a lot of other books from the same time period. Because I go to used bookstores and people give away their books about twenty-five years afterwards. So, I was like “Oh!” At the same time [you were racing the Whitbread], there was the ENZA trimaran going for the Jules Verne Trophy, which I had read— actually, just the year before— read Cam Lewis’s book about Commodore Explorer.

DR: Uh-huh.

The Jules Verne Trophy, not quite like the book. [x]

KY: And then, at the same time you were planning for the America’s Cup 1995. And during lockdown, I actually read Anna Huntington’s book Making Waves.

DR: Yup.

KY: That’s always, to me, a very particular experience reading that book, because I got it from Breakwater Yacht Club, I borrowed it just before lockdown and then I had it. There was nothing else to do so I just was biking around in the spring. And I went to this little beach in North Sea and I just sat down on the beach and I was just reading this book and trying to think about something– just something else because it seemed like the world was going crazy. And there was an osprey family up in a nest. And it was just me, and the osprey, and this book about the America’s Cup.

DR: Uh-huh.

KY: So you’ve made a home here [on Long Island] in our area, but you’re from Detroit, originally.

DR: Yup.

KY: And you learned to sail there?

DR: I learned to sail with my family. No formal training, no junior sailing type of training, but my dad was a sailor and a racer and he would basically, I think… My mom would say, “Take one of the kids, get out of the house!” So I got to go, because I was the oldest, which was pretty cool. So I think the first sailboat race that I did, for sure, the first one that I can remember, I was about four years old. And they did a crash gybe, and I got rope burn under my arm, and I thought it was amazing. My mom wasn’t so happy. But they also did not put limits on it. So I started racing on bigger boats in the– in the 70s, Jesus.

KY: So did you have, at that point, heroes as a kid that you looked up to in the world of sailing?

DR: When you’re that young, the only peers you have, the only people you know about, are your family. When we came back from sailing for a year, on the year’s cruise, I obviously had my eyes opened by seeing all the different places and all the different jobs in the industry. From, you know, powerboat captains to workers, to engine repair, to riggers in the Caribbean. You know, all of that just exposure, Antigua Race Week… hippie yacht captains, Jimmy Buffett, Ted Turner, who we met on the dock, a sailboat racer with TV cameras following him… so that was a whole exposure. And then when I got back, and started racing, the people in the industry, the professionals in the industry, were my role models. Sailmakers and boat workers, boat captains.

KY: And this was the year that your family went to the Caribbean, you said?

DR: Yup, we did that when I was 13, so I started working and being paid to work on boats when I was 15, and put myself through college doing that.

KY: That must have been incredible, just being with your family in the Caribbean like that and going from place to place.

DR: Uh-huh. Yup, it was very organized and scheduled. Lots of sailing events. We went as far as you could, I think as far as you possibly could on a 56-foot wooden boat in one year and seven days. Because we had an extra week. My dad had two leaves of absence, but he worked for a week in Puerto Rico to make it up. So one year and seven days from the time we departed to the time we got back. We were on a schedule, we rarely stayed in the same place more than one night at a time. So it was pretty cool.

KY: When you were growing up, as a teenager and so forth, what was your awareness of the America’s Cup and then the offshore sailing?

DR: My awareness of the America’s Cup was discovered during that year’s cruise. When we were in Newport, in ‘77, the trials were going on. And then, I didn’t really know about the Round-The-World-Race because there had been no stopover in America until the race we did. But when I came back, at North Star Sailing Club, on Lake St. Claire, there was a film on the Whitbread, and I’m like, “Oh! I want to do that!”

KY: You were a teenager when you decided you were going to do that.

DR: 15, yeah. Maybe 16. Probably in winter. 15 or 16, it doesn’t matter.

KY: But that was your moment. And you followed on that course to become a professional from that point on?

DR: Well, professional back then wasn’t really a word. You were a boat captain. The professional/amateur only came into it in the 2000s when there was a marketing push from the Farr office that was building boats and started saying, you’re professional, you’re amateur. And I kind of got a little bit screwed over in that. Thank God I had enough time before people discriminated against professionals. Because we were poor and we needed to work to be able to sail. And I was able to get my skillset up. But basically, as I wanted to go sailing, I needed to eat and I needed to pay for college. So I had a job working on boats and sail lofts and cleaning boat bottoms and making sandwiches and anything I could do to keep those two things. I wanted to sail, I needed to eat, oh yeah, and I needed to pay for college.

KY: And you had the aspiration to go as far as you could?

DR: No, I wanted to do the America’s Cup and I wanted to do the Round-The-World, but I also thought maybe I wanted to go to the Olympics. And I also thought I wanted to be an advertising executive on Madison Avenue. So I kept a lot of different goals and I didn’t really know that it was a possibility to continue in the sailing until I didn’t get a job in advertising. And then I was ready. So what I tell people here at Oakcliff is that you absolutely have to have a plan. And whether it’s going to be school, family, real job, business, boatbuilder starting a business– but you always have to have your seabag packed and ready to go when an opportunity presents itself. And that’s kind of what I did.

KY: I’ve actually (laughs) I’ve actually had the worst luck trying to watch the Maiden documentary. There’s been places that I’ve been where it was showing and I kept missing it. And I got the DVD now and I was trying to watch it last night and my computer is new and I hadn’t set up the DVD program, and so I only got to watch, like, the first half-hour.

DR: Oh, bummer.

KY: So I’m sorry I can’t ask you too many questions based on that.

DR: It’s okay. I will tell you that the movie is quite realistic. And they were talking about trying to make a Hollywood remake of it, and I don’t know how that would be possible. Because the footage was so good, the story was so well-done, and the only thing you could add to make it more Hollywood, honestly, would be romance. (laughs)

[x]

KY: That was the ‘89 race, and y’know, it really was just, I feel like there has to be some kind of movie about the ‘89 race, not necessarily about Maiden in particular. But just because there were so many different events going on, it almost doesn’t seem real that it was at this point in the world– that the Berlin Wall came down and…

DR: We weren’t even aware that that was happening because we were out at sea. There was satellite navigation really around the middle of the Earth, around Antarctica you were still using celestial. The electronic communications for weather– we would get a weather fax that was on that fax paper, where you get it too hot or wet and you can’t read it. There was a positioning once a day, but our only communication was SSB ham radio, single-sideband. So we weren’t picking up on the news.

KY: I have the “Maxi” book that I saw on the shelf, I got that one at Strand also, and I was looking through that and looking at the computer technology that they had onboard as research for my story. But just this… you came back to port and you would get all of this news that the world was changing so rapidly in this period. Did you have a sense that, y’know, something’s in the atmosphere?

DR: No, no, no, no. We were just isolated. I was literally talking about this last night with a friend’s nephew who just came back from Germany. He hasn’t been in America for three years. And I said, at least you have the Internet, because when I used to come back to do an event or a speech or something, I would at the airport, get People Magazine. Because there was no social media, there was no TV that we were watching. And I came back and there was a social event and people were talking about “Britney”. And I’m like “Who the heck is Britney and what’s her last name?”

KY: Britney Spears.

DR: Because if you’re gone and you’re not hearing it, you have no idea and the whole social world has passed you by. So you have to do some homework to catch up.

KY: In some of the books, they say, you know, the world could end and we wouldn’t know until we got to port.

DR: Uh-huh.

KY: I think in Skip Novak’s book, he said that they were at sea when the Chernobyl accident happened and they had heard that on the radio, and they were like, “What if we come back to the northern hemisphere and everyone’s dead of radiation poisoning?”

DR: Right, right. You are isolated, out there. Or you were isolated out there. Nowadays it’s much different. Nowadays, I think it’s lost a lot of the romance. There’s more people following– you see Cole Brauer and half a million people following, but is that entertainment or adventure? I’m not sure which.

KY: That was the first time you had been to the Southern Ocean, right?

DR: Yes.

KY: What was that experience like, being there for the first time?

DR: (deep exhale) Everybody says they want to be helicoptered in just for a day, which would be a disaster. Because the way that you acclimate to the Southern Ocean is that it’s a little windier, it’s a little windier, it’s a little windier, and each step up, you’re like “Oh my god! Oh, oh, oh!” And then on the way back down, as you’re coming out, you’re walking around in 50 knots of wind with a cup of coffee and you’re not spilling it. So it’s an acclimation, it’s not like you’re helicoptered in, “This is the Southern Ocean!” It’s a gradual in and a gradual out. There are moments you absolutely remember, just the amount of energy and extremeness and the adrenaline of sailing is pretty cool.

KY: From what they say, it sounds like it’s almost a world apart. Otherworldly.

DR: It is, I mean, everybody talks now about Point Nemo, we didn’t even really talk about that then, which is when you’re closer to the space shuttle than you are to land.

KY: Francis Chichester, he said, “I felt like I was planetary distances away from the rest of mankind.”

DR: OK, I wasn’t that eloquent.

KY: But was it like you were on another planet?

DR: We were racing as fast as we could to get to the next piece of land. And that is the thing people always ask, “Are you bored?” No. Because you’re in a competition, it might be a very long competition, but you’re in a competition. And yes there’s some fun times and there’s some relaxing, there’s laughs. But you’re focused. When you’re steering the boat, you’re trying to steer the boat as best as absolutely possible. When you’re trimming, you’re trying to do it as best as absolutely possible. You’re just doing it for a really long time.

It sounds pretty intense. [x]

KY: And there were several different nationalities onboard Maiden. It was organized in England and it was majority Brits, so how did you feel as an American being among Brits?

DR: Well, it wasn’t majority British, if you count Welsh, and Irish and Scottish, which they absolutely would. There were three proper English onboard. And then, it was weird being the only American only in that it was the first time I had ever been in an experience where I was the only American. I wasn’t even aware of a lot of the stereotypes until they started teasing me about it. “Seppo? What’s Seppo?” It’s like, septic tank. (laughs) But I didn’t know.

KY: It’s the Australian word for Americans, yeah. You know, when I’ve been doing the research for my writing, I type in “Whitbread Race” [in a search engine] and one of the suggestions is “Did Maiden win the Whitbread Race?” Because it’s become so famous now because of the documentary. So how do you feel knowing that you guys are now the most famous team that was there in 1989?

DR: Well, that’s fine. There was also the photo of my cleavage that was the most published photo of all of 1989. Or actually, 1990, because of the finish in Fort Lauderdale. In 1990, the absolutely top-published photo in sports was of my cleavage.

KY: …I’m sorry.

DR: (laughs) Back then, I wasn’t embarrassed, I didn’t even really care about it or know about it, but I was not a fan of coming into Fort Lauderdale as sailboat racers, in our bathing suits, because I thought it cheapened what we were doing. And I was quite against it. Ironically, then that photo came out and now I look at the photos and I’m like “Oh, if only I looked like that now!” (laughs)

KY: Did you have that, you know, almost stereotypical expression after you came back, thinking “I won’t do that again!” or did you immediately say, “I want to do that again next time.”

DR: Neither. I figured, I’ve checked the box, now what am I going to do? I was literally trying to decide between the Olympics and the America’s Cup when we finished. I did not intend to do the next race, I only did it because there had been a mutiny and I had to save the reputation of ‘89-90, because if the women had failed, then it would have been a step backwards further than before Maiden. Because Maiden was about “Can they do it?” “Yes, they can? Oh, that was a one-off.” That would have been the story.

KY: So you did the America’s Cup in 1992, and you were the first woman in a physically-active role [on an America's Cup crew in 140 years].

DR: Mmm-hmm.

KY: How did you end up joining that team?

DR: Open try-outs. There was a handful of women that tried out. I was just the only one that made the team.

KY: This is also, significantly, this is also the year in which there is the movie made about the America’s Cup, Wind, that’s the fictionalization of the events of 1983.

DR: That’s right, that’s right.

KY: And that’s kind of an alternate universe sort of story, but it struck me that this film that was set ten years before did have female crew, something that only became a reality that same year.

DR: I didn’t even think about that. I was so busy just training to go racing.

Left: Fiction, Right: Reality

KY: Were you aware of the movie when it came out?

DR: Oh, of course. We were aware of the movie. And I think I remember thinking it was okay. Everybody teased, everybody was joking about it. But I think it was pretty successful, pretty well-done. I had actually been asked to be in the film as a stunt-double at one point, and I thought they were joking. It turns out that they were, but it doesn’t matter– I was busy.

KY: Yeah, it’s one of those love-it-or-hate-it movies, y’know? I love it, I know people who hate it, but I love it.

DR: I don’t hate it at all. I’ve watched it a few times. There was a movie called Masquerade that I liked better, and it didn’t get nearly as much press.

KY: I like to joke with my friends that I’m one of the 600 people on Earth who have actually seen Wind.

DR: Oh no, I think there’s a lot of people that have seen Wind. Every junior sailing kid who has been at a program when there’s no wind out, gets to see Wind.

KY: You were part of America^3–

DR: America Cubed.

KY: Yes, America Cubed. Did you have the sense that you were the first?

DR: Oh yes. They maximized it in terms of publicity. We had three of us, there were two black guys on the team. So Art, myself, and Billy Ruh would go. It was the girl, the cute white guy, and the star black guy, we’d call ourselves the Mod Squad.

KY: Oh, like the show, yes.

DR: Which was a TV show from the 60s.

The America^3 crew were nicknamed "The Cubens" (pronounced like "Cubans") [x]

KY: So then you were in the Whitbread in 1993 again, like in the book. You joined the team after Leg 1 because there had been the mutiny and so forth… I almost don’t even want to ask anything because you said it all so well in the book!

DR: (laughs) So then just tell everyone to read the book. You can buy it now [online], it’s in paperback because we sold the 50,000 copies in hardback.

KY: In the book, there’s the contrast between the management side of the team and so forth and dealing with the lawsuits and the money troubles, whereas you said when you’re out at sea, you’re focused on very specific tasks. So did you actually prefer the simplicity of focusing on what was going on aboard ship.

DR: It’s ironic. Because when you’re out there, all you really… it’s actually pure. It’s wonderful. It’s amazing, because you’re just focus, focus, focus. And you’re just trying quickly to get to shore. And with the second attempted mutiny on the boat while we were racing kind of took that purity away, so it wasn’t as good as with Maiden. The second time around the world or the second time you’re in the America’s Cup is never as pure and fun with that sense of discovery as the first time. The ironic part is that you’re racing and all you want to do is get to shore and see people and have a glass of wine and have actual vegetables that aren’t freeze-dried. And then you get there and somebody hands you a beer and then you forget about all of that. The first couple of days onshore are really annoying because there’s so much distraction and then you get into a routine and then before you go back, you are like “Ohhhhhh, I don’t want to go to sea, I want to stay in bed.”

[x]

KY: You captured that so well, talking about being in South America and hearing the winds keeping you up at night. And in the book you wrote a lot about Gloria Borrego, who recently passed.

DR: (quietly) I know.

KY: She sounded incredible. Could you talk about her?

DR: She was incredible. She worked in the pits in NASCAR, she was a brilliant engineer, a problem-solver, always laughing. Amazing. Diana Klybert wrote her obituary, which summed up more than any of us knew in terms of one aspect of her, and it was tragic that she got cancer and died within two weeks. One of my other friends, mutual friends, was upset and said that she had so much left to do. But I pointed out, she had done so much.

KY: Just the good humor that came through in the book, where you were joking among yourselves, she was talking about her dreams, and she talked about how she dreamed she was a superhero. That was incredible, just so fun to read.

DR: Yup.

KY: And you also talked about how you were getting letters from students and that you were impressed that people were following you.

DR: Yes, because you wouldn’t remember, you weren’t alive. [Actually, I was seven months old when the 1993 Whitbread started, but close enough.] But the Internet was just starting to happen and CompuServe was the e-mail. So we would sent a fax to a supporter in… Annapolis, I think? And then he would e-mail it out, because you couldn’t take a picture then, you couldn’t send attachments, he would re-type it into an e-mail and send it out to people via fax or e-mail. It was basically an early version of a listserv.

KY: Yeah. I think that really the Whitbread and the America’s Cup were kind of pioneers in using the Internet for education [and outreach] and that way of letting people follow. The Whitbread website from 1997 had almost all of the modern features and everything! I know that in the 1995 America’s Cup, there was the PACT organization that was doing newspaper things for students every week. Really impressive stuff.

DR: Sailors are early adopters. Because we are so remote.

America^3 in 1995. [x]

KY: 1995, you were with the other America^3. Where it was specifically a women’s team. So that was, I suppose, the next step, now that there had been female crew, that there had been–

DR: 1995, yeah. It was basically because Bill Koch and his financial advisors didn’t want him to spend all of this time and money and effort to do it again and underwrite it.

KY: He had to do something different.

DR: And so they came up with the idea of, should we do an all-women’s team. They asked me, and I said, “Noooo, let’s just sail mixed, it’s more fun.” And then I sat down and helped write the business plan for that, we called it the Manifesto, but it was a business plan.

KY: I just thought when I read Huntington’s book and it was talking about the team dynamics and so forth and who’s in charge and interesting like that, talking with the trainers and so on. And here’s now we do certain things. I thought it was very funny, the story about forcing one of the chase boat guys to listen to you [all] talking about menstrual problems because he had been annoying or something.

DR: I don’t remember, there was a lot of funny stuff like that. Now, Anna was a rower, she came in kind of late on the team, but her background was journalism, so she wrote a journalistic story, which I fully support. It was slightly sensationalized to be able to sell books, a lot of the other women were very upset because it told too much. My belief is, whatever you do, you should be proud of it. So if everybody knows, it’s on the front page of The New York Times, then tough. You did it, you said it, it’s there, it’s true, share it.

KY: I thought especially talking about the resistance that she faced, I was very impressed by that, it was very scathing in certain places. Talking about specifically the things that people said when they doubted you. I was joking with my friend, I said “She called this book Making Waves because the publisher probably said ‘You can’t call it Screw You, Dennis Conner!’” (laughs)

DR: Okay, yeah. We don’t like Dennis, but he’s now old, he’s older. He’s, yeah…

KY: He disappeared.

DR: Yeah.

KY: And obviously that’s another incredible year in the history, with so many things going on, you literally saw a boat sink in the racing–

DR: Yeah.

KY: –and the different nationalities involved, of course it’s the year that Team New Zealand are just sweeping through. So, again, did you have this sense of being impressed that so many crazy things are going on and you’re in the midst of it?

DR: You’re in the midst of it and you’re trying to just get stuff done. It was a different campaign. It was extremely unfortunate that we had no women in the leadership onshore, obviously we were on the boat, but you need to have that crossover and it was just math, to a point. Because if there had been more women that had had experience in the past, then we would have had more women on the coaching staff, more women on the design team, more women in the marketing team. So you would have had more of a cohesive team, as opposed to the guys do this half, all the business, and the women just hurry up and go sailing. Which hurt us a little bit in some of the decision making.

KY: Yes, I got that sense from the book. And then you did have a mixed team in 2000, with America True.

DR: And we hired the designer of the boat that sank. (laughs) Because he was definitely not going to build a boat that was going to sink.

KY: (laughs) I’ve actually read the official program for that edition, I got it online, and I have a question I’ve gotta ask…

DR: Hopefully I know the answer.

KY: Why was Godzilla on America True’s hull?!?

Reproduced from Challenge 2000: The Race to Win the America's Cup, by Russell Coutts and Paul Larsen.

DR: That’s because… it’s hilarious. So, in the America’s Cup, there’s extreme security, you’re not allowed to go into another team’s base, you’re not allowed to take photos because of certain parameters and all sorts of stuff. And we did have some espionage, but that was, I’m pretty sure I know who– I’m pretty sure it was a Kiwi– and when we came in in the morning, it was so hilarious. So they’d snuck in and they’d put Godzilla on the Golden Gate Bridge that was on the side of the hull. So it was just a prank. We could have protested them and had “damages” because they were in the base.

KY: They touched the hull.

DR: Some of the people were upset about that, and myself and Chris Coffin just thought it was so f—-ing funny. We were like, “Leave it!” So we left it on forever.

KY: In the photos in the program, it’s there and I thought that you guys did that.

DR: Nope.

KY: But I thought, I’ve gotta ask why. In this case, you were in Auckland and y’know, this is not necessarily the period where it became– because it already was– that it was so integrated into the culture there. Did you have a sense of that, that this is a place where so much of the country is watching this?

DR: Oh yeah. Because I’d lived in New Zealand off and on since 1992. It was my home. I was actually in London a week ago and staying with Jenni and Spike– Jenni was on both Maiden and Heineken and Spike was on New Zealand Challenge– and I said, I think there’s more friends per square mile of mine in New Zealand than anywhere else in the world. Just because I know so many of them and they’re good friends. And I was lucky to be sailing internationally when it was the decades of the Kiwis, and they’ve all gone home to roost.

KY: And you said in Taking the Helm, when you guys got into Fort Lauderdale, you told the people who were not Americans, you said, this is the United States, there’s not going to be as many people as there were in New Zealand because we don’t turn out as much, so…

DR: Well, no, it’s because they didn’t know that the race was happening as much.

KY: Did you have a sense that this was so much a part of the culture, that people are going to recognize you on the street?

DR: They do. They still do.

KY: It’s a very different sort of experience, the way it’s integrated into their culture?

DR: Yeah.

KY: Like you said, Peter Blake was a national hero.

There are even children's books about him! [x]

DR: Well, there’s a big difference. New Zealand has a huge coastline, somewhere around 90% of people go boating regularly, it’s something insane like 86% own a boat, whether it’s a rowboat, or a launch, which is their word for a powerboat, or a yacht, which is their word for a sailboat. So of course you’re going to have more following. As opposed to, how many people in Kansas, Oklahoma, Idaho, North Dakota, South Dakota, y’know, Texas… there’s coastlines somewhere in there, but there’s so much vast, non-coastline.

KY: So would you say that our cultural disadvantage is our geography, in that way?

DR: It’s just different. Just different, yeah.

KY: So then, you were in management and media in the next two editions. Flip those around, media and then management…

DR: I was doing media coverage in 2003 and then I did sail on the boat up until the last 8 months, and I was general manager of the French team for 2007 where we raced in Valencia.

KY: That was K-Challenge. And this is, talking about, three different countries within a decade, that the America’s Cup was in. And with the people who are part of that, involved with that, they talk about their kids going to school in different countries and so forth. So what’s it like, just that nomadic life? Where you know that now we’re here, but we don’t know where we’re going to be in five years because we don’t know who’s going to win? And just going somewhere else, do I have to learn a language, learn basic phrases and so forth?

DR: Well, I mean, that’s a privilege, to be able to go and live in all different countries. Until Oakcliff, I had not lived in any place more than three years after I was 11.

KY: That’s amazing.

DR: It’s cool. And you keep light, you don’t collect a lot of c-—, and you don’t need a lot of stuff. You collect experiences and friends, as opposed to material things.

KY: And I know that in your book and also in Making Waves, you talked about, or people talked about you, reading home and garden magazines because it was something that was different from your own life.

DR: Well, yeah, also if you’re moving to a new place you want to– nowadays we call it nesting– but you want to take the time and that’s you’re creative outlet, to make things pretty. To do gardens. I think somewhere it’s probably written that if I garden, I want something out of it. So I specifically garden with vegetables and some fruits. Flowers are there… marigolds to keep the pests away, but it’s not to make it pretty. It’s to make it productive.

KY: Practical gardening.

DR: Yup.

14 years ago, the beginning of the AC multihull era. [x]

KY: Since that point, y’know, we’ve seen the America’s Cup change so much with technology and so forth. And that was sort of the point you moved out of that, you were working at Oakcliff, but how has it been watching all of these changes in the past fifteen years?

DR: (clicks tongue) Yeah, it has been fifteen years. I’m obviously out of the inside scoop on technology, I think the challenge is that there has been a concerted effort to make it marketable to the masses. And when I did the television in 2003, I learned, believed, and reinforced my belief that the way to make it entertaining and relevant to the masses is to educate the masses. Because sports fans, even if they don’t do the sport, want to be seen as the experts, so they can talk about it at the pub with their friends and have an opinion. You need to give them the information so that they can form an opinion in the end. That may or may not be right, because it’s all judgemental, but at least they have the tools. Just making something go fast and not educating people is not the answer. So the catamarans and the foiling gecko boats right now are a challenge on top of the fact that you don’t see the humans. People associate with humans. So I think there’s a lot of people that are in agreement with that, the question is, whoever wins, will they have the cojones to make that correct change.

KY: I’ve seen discussions of this, how much jargon do you use and for what audiences?

DR: Jargon is not a big deal. You say port, left side of the boat, starboard right side of the boat. It’s super frickin’ simple and it doesn’t have to be… it’s not the language that’s the problem. It’s the strategy, the tactics, the humans, why are they doing that? Oh, the wife just had a baby or that person’s mother just ended up visiting in town, the paint is a new coating that they think is faster, is it going to be faster or is more of a psychological advantage? Those kinds of conversations pull people in. And in all of that, I didn’t use a single sailing term.

KY: Right. The thing I was thinking, when I was reading the book on the beach, and it was 2020, I was in lockdown, and I was waiting for the next edition coming up in 2021. And it was at that point that DutchSail had pulled out. And I was thinking, you know, this is 25 years ago, and there was this cohort of women who were crewing, and now they’re not. I felt that this is the light that failed. How did you feel that there has been a technological revolution in the America’s Cup but not necessarily a social one?

DR: Well, there has been. Not in the America’s Cup, but SailGP, the Round-The-World, they’ve gone back and forth between incentives and requirements, and it’s making a difference. The America’s Cup is not going to put those rules in because almost all the rules are some sort of mutual consent, so you have to have at least two parties that are wanting to win to the death. So the only way that you’re going to be able to have women in the America’s Cup, I predict, by regulatory, by rules, is by having a sponsor who says we will give you corporate dollars as long as you have x number of women on the boat. Or you have the challenger and the defender who both believe it’s a competitive advantage for them to have their female on the boat. And then if they both believe that, then you’ll end up with women on the boat. But it’s really hard.

KY: Do you think that if you had been in the match in ‘95, that it would have been different?

DR: No.

KY: That people would have said, see, clearly women can be at least in the match, so…

DR: No. I don’t think anyone makes that distinction. That has nothing to do with it. And also, frankly, the Kiwis were so much faster, that we would have been seen as the women that lost the America’s Cup. So, no.

KY: And then with the set-up they have now, where they made a separate event.

DR: That’s… silly.

KY: Yes! That’s what I was saying, that I feel like previously it was by rule, open, but de facto all-male, now it seems like it’s de jure all-male, because you’re separating.

DR: Where it does help, and where it may help the overall event in the future, is because they’re focusing on women and youth, countries like Holland, Australia, I don’t know the other…

KY: Canada?

DR: Canada, those countries have an entree for young people with a longer runway, launchpad, to get into whatever the next America’s Cup is. So from a marketing perspective, it’s extremely good. Do I wish that we just had women on the real boats? Absolutely. And in particular, in the US, there’s at least two women that are relegated to the women’s team that absolutely should be on the real team.

KY: I feel like when you say “The Women’s America’s Cup”, that’s different from saying “Women IN the America’s Cup”.

DR: Correct.

KY: And with what you were saying, having a women’s team vs a mixed team. That when it’s a women’s team, there’s focus on that, whereas if it’s a co-ed team then it’s just people.

DR: Just people, exactly. We need to sail with people.

Liv Mackay, Gemma Jones, and Veerle ten Have of the New Zealand Women's America's Cup Team. [x]

KY: Now you work at Oakcliff and you have for 15 years now…

DR: 14.

KY: 14.

DR: It’s only 14. (laughs)

KY: What are some of your duties and responsibilities here?

DR: I’m the executive director and that means doing everything that needs to get done, from making sure that Matt’s buying the right washing machine ‘cause the kids don’t all take c--– out of their pockets and it ends up in the pumps and breaks them– that’s an eight-hundred-dollar mistake– to getting the art show set up, to the fundraising, to coaching the development person about marketing, to cleaning out the shop, to supervising the composites– although Luke’s doing an amazing job there– to sailing, to coaching.

KY: What is this art exhibit?

DR: It’s a fundraiser. So, we have an art show April 6th. We have one every spring. Hunt Lawrence is our main benefactor, and his wife is an artist and she has an art school in New York– New York School of the Arts– so we do a joint fundraiser every spring. And then she does a fundraiser in the fall with art shows. So it’s an art exhibit, there’s a champagne brunch, and all the art’s for sale and a portion, minimum 20% up to 100%, goes to Oakcliff. Hunt doesn’t care as much about all of that, he just thinks it’s really cool that we have a deadline to clean up the place from the winter mess to the summer.

KY: (laughs) Oh my god.

DR: (laughs)

KY: So what is life like for the students here?

DR: You can and should ask them. It depends on the season and the day. I’ve seen more people come through here, we’re at nearly 600 graduates, or over 600 graduates. And some years, it’s kind of the wild west in the beginning, where they’re living offsite and nobody under 18 was allowed. Sometimes we have super-young groups, just because we’re 15 and above. We had one camp where it was 8 boys and girls between 15 and 17, and then 3 women that were in their 60s. And it all worked, but it was awkward in the beginning and it became a great team-building event. At the very end of that particular camp, we had a competition where they divided up into teams and they would do a cooking competition where they could only use stuff that was upstairs, kind of like on Top Chef. They all brought it to my house for lunch and we awarded, I think it was a watermelon soup with a basil-olive oil puree drizzle and a sprinkle of feta that won.

KY: That sounds great.

DR: It was great. It was a 15-year-old boy that made that.

KY: Are you satisfied with what you’ve achieved at Oakcliff?

DR: We’ve achieved amazing things. Our goal right now is to make it sustainable without me onsite and without our main benefactor. So that’s our next frontier. At the same time, we’re under pressure to expand into Florida and to California, which is totally doable but I need to clone myself a couple times.

KY: Now that you’ve had so many people come through, what are some of the things you’ve seen your students achieve?

DR: I go back to Seth Cooley, is one of the top engineers at Future Fibers. Ervin Grove was running the North Sails loft in Charleston. Madeline Baldridge now is married to a coach who was here– and he is a son of our navigator from ‘92, so it’s a small world– she is one of the designers for North Sails. Chris Kennedy works for Melges and he and his wife have a flower farm in Wisconsin. Mark [Towill] and Charlie [Enright] obviously won The Ocean Race. Five of our graduates are working with American Magic. Robyn Lush is working with them a little bit, she’s also become an ultra-marathoner. Koko [Komar] is working in commercial real estate. Mike Nicoletti has a hedge fund. And that’s just off the top of my head.

X-Men comics and Percy Jackson novels taught me that all good specialized schools for young people with extraordinary talents must be tucked away in small towns just a train ride away from New York City…

KY: Do you feel like you’re almost, I guess, Professor X, finding the young talent and helping them…

DR: Of course. Of course. We’re giving them the opportunity to come in and try things out. It’s not always an easy thing. And it’s a little bit like I suspect parenthood would be. You’re just like, this kid is driving me frickin’ crazy and they hate me right now, and then 5 years later I’ll get an e-mail from them saying, “I was a jerk, and you were mean to me, but I needed it, thank you.” I just wish I didn’t have to do that over and over and over again. But we try to just keep it at a professional level, acknowledge that we’re asking for ultimate effort, and that not everybody’s going to succeed, but you know where the bar is.

KY: You talked about having the other locations. What are some other things you’re hoping for, for the future of Oakcliff?

DR: Again, the sustainability so that I don’t have to be here. Because it is a model where we have tuition for the Saplings, we have sponsorships, we have art shows. We have income lines, retail, and yet we need to fund-raise for the overhead, essentially. So about 50% of the budget comes from charitable donations. One thing that would make it more sustainable is to be able to get the landlords to agree to sell us the property, because then we would end up net positive on the bottom line. We do a capital campaign so we don’t have to pay rent. We’ve worked on getting the insurance down. So there’s a lot on the business side of it. It’s really boring to people, but we use our dollars. Around 90, I think the lowest we’ve been is 87% of every dollar goes to programming, and we’ve been as high as 96%. So we’re the golden children of utilizing every dollar for programming.

KY: Would you say that your reputation and star power are important to–

DR: My reputation, I’m not going to say star power, but my reputation and credibility is what built Oakcliff. The good news is that 5 years ago, 8 years ago, everything that happened at Oakcliff would reflect on me. Now Oakcliff’s grown to the point that if I just slowly took a backseat, it’s its own entity, which is a sign of success. Because it can’t be attached. If I get run over by a bus, 8 years ago, everybody would say, well, Oakcliff’s done. Same thing with our main benefactor. Now we’re trying to get it to the point that it’s not surrounding just one person. It’s more of the reputation of quality and a community.

KY: And I think we can see that it has to be larger than just the person.

DR: Absolutely.

KY: That the leader is not the whole organization, and if the organization is seen as too closely tied to the leader, then anything the leader does reflects on the organization and that can be a weakness.

DR: Exactly.

Oakcliff trainees Sweta Shervegar and Noelle Scheer in the boatyard.

KY: We spoke about the role of the sport of sailing in American culture. There has been, I would say, especially with offshore, sort of a decline in visibility in the past 25 years and so forth. And everyone’s got their own reason for that, y’know–

DR: Well, part of it is that it’s become more accessible. Before, there used to be one race, and only a handful of crazy people dared to do it. Now it’s become safer, more communication, more safety equipment, more rescue opportunities, more people. Again, Cole Brauer, in Class 40, livestreaming dinner parties… I mean, I didn’t take a shower for 5 weeks, and I barely had time to write in my diary and drink Ovaltine. Y’know, so, it’s a different… it’s more accessible, so it seems to be easy, but it’s also become more fractured.

KY: There’s many different races attracting attention, but also attention in general is more split because of the Internet and more TV channels. But it seems like, also, I feel like now “sports” means “ball sports” more than it used to.

DR: Say that again?

KY: I feel like now, when I look at ESPN and so forth, “sports” is ball sports more than it necessarily was when you guys were getting your specials on ESPN and so on.

DR: No. When we were back in the day, to have anything on other than football, basketball and baseball in America… even hockey struggled. It’s changed. There’s so much more inventory again, technology allows you to produce high quality broadcast-ready programming, so women’s sports has benefited hugely from that.

KY: Yes.

DR: Sailing is on TV more than you would think, but there’s also more clutter.

KY: I remember when the documentary came out, people said, if Mike Plant had lived, then we would have had an American visibly in the Vendée [Globe] and that would have brought more visibility for offshore [racing] in the United States. And now we do have some American offshore figures with 11th Hour Racing and now with Cole Brauer who are getting all of this attention. Do you think that’s a positive development that we have these people who are…

DR: Yeah. Of course it’s positive. The thing is, how do you channel it for a purpose and what is that purpose? Is it more eyeballs for your sponsors? That’s one thing. Is it more people in sailing? That’s a different thing. Is it a more robust industry? That’s another thing. Is it more environmental and ecology awareness? That’s another thing. Just taking this power, which seems to be scattershot, and putting it into a clear mission and achieving that mission. And all missions are achievable, you just have to know what it is that you’re trying to do. I think Cole is a perfect example. She didn’t expect it. So now it’s going to be really interesting, I think she might be going over to MerConcept. She has power right now, I know she has advisors, and her advisors and she have to make a decision. She could do like Ellen MacArthur. Ellen doesn’t sail at all, but she has her Ellen MacArthur Trust and she uses that to do specific charitable work. I think Cole’s probably too energetic, dynamic to stop there. But what does she want to do?

KY: What do you think that she did well, particularly with the presentation?

DR: The amount of followers she has is crazy. And she has brought in a huge non-sailing audience. And there is a legitimate discussion, like I talked about way back, amongst technical sailors, about the merits and how this happened. And again, she needs to decide what her purpose is and how she’s going to capitalize on something that she’s built that’s amazing.

[x]

KY: You were talking about also, the 11th Hour people who came through here. What would you say that they have perhaps done well in presentation?

DR: 11th Hour changed the conversation around the environment hugely and now they’re moving on to women with the MerConcept, which is François Gabart. And that’s Wendy Schmidt, that’s from the top, that’s a female decision-maker and leader.

KY: I wanted to say this before, but talking about the management side as well, you said that there has been a social revolution in the past few decades. I actually saw the interview for the 25th anniversary of America^3, where they had Melanie Roberts who’s the race coordinator for America’s Cup and for SailGP. And that she had been, I think, ten years old watching you guys? [Roberts was actually 9 at the time of the 1995 Cup.]

DR: Oh yes. Yes.

KY: The people on the boats get the most attention, but there are people at all levels who are sort of this generation that has been inspired by the people before them.

DR: Uh-huh. This sport is… it’s complicated. It’s an industry, and a sport, and a lifestyle, and a pastime. It’s all in one. We’re not going to talk about, we don’t need to talk about the Olympics, but that’s part of the national governing body of US Sailing, they also need to figure out what they can do and once they figure that out, they need to do it well. And they’re doing none of it well at this point. Because it’s so complicated. Unlike skiing, perfect example, there’s the Olympic ski team and then there’s the recreational part of it, so all the ski hills have a business association that then spins off some funding for the Olympic team.

KY: Are there any other people you think who are impressive competing nowadays, who came through Oakcliff or otherwise, who you think I should be following?

DR: I started going through names there, Lena Kurbiel is rowing with Liz Wardley [across the Pacific], so there’s one. Sydney Monahan has finished school, she’s going to do a Women’s Match Racing campaign. Sweta, our high-performance coach, is going to go over to MerConcept, Michaela [Robinson] is going to be over there trying out. If I started looking down the 600 people, I would have 600 names for you to follow.

#dawn riley #oakcliff sailing center #interview #female sailors #Whitbread Round the World Race #Whitbread 1989 #Whitbread 1993 #America’s Cup #AC 28 #AC 29 #AC 30

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 months

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The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Yes I'm still using the gifset shut up -Danny Words: 2,811 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: ''Til Kingdom Come' -by Coldplay

LIX: I Wanna Go Home

"What are we looking at?"

"Ah, Señor Zhang, you know how you're always saying, 'Leo, you are the only true genius among demigods'?"

"I'm pretty sure I never said that."

"Well, turns out there are other true geniuses! Because one of them must have made that work of art down there."

When the eery-looking boy taps away in the Archimedes sphere, all Ara sees is her favorite person on Earth, and the closer they get to fighting Gaea, the more Ara wastes her time staring at him.

"It's a stone circle," Frank raises a brow. "Probably the foundation of an old shrine."

"No, it's more than that," Piper studies it carefully. "Look at the ridges and grooves carved around the rim."

"Like the teeth of a gear," Jason points out.

"And those concentric rings." Hazel adds. "The pattern reminds me of Pasiphaë's pendant: the symbol of the Labyrinth."

"Huh." Leo frowns. "Well, I hadn't thought of that. But think mechanical. Frank, Hazel... where did we see concentric circles like that before?"

"The laboratory under Rome—"

"The Archimedes lock on the door," Hazel nods. "It had rings within rings."

"You're telling me that's a massive stone lock? It's, like, fifty feet in diameter." Percy scoffs in disbelief.

"Leo might be right," Annabeth shrugs. "In ancient times, the temple of Asclepius was like the General Hospital of Greece. Everybody came here for the best healing. Aboveground, it was the size of a major city, but supposedly the real action happened belowground. That's where the high priests had their intensive-care super-magical-type compound, accessed by a secret passage."

"So, if that big round thing is the lock, how do we get the key?" Percy asks.

"Way ahead of you, Aquaman."

"Okay, do not call me Aquaman. That's even worse than water boy."

"You gotta give me something, man, you don't let me call you Nemo!"

"My name is Percy."

"Boys, focus," Ara presses.

Leo shifts his attention to Jason, Piper, and her. "You guys remember the giant Archimedes grabber arm I told you I was building?"

"I thought you were kidding," Jason frowns.

"Oh, my friend, I never kid about giant grabber arms!" Leo rubs his palms excitedly. "It's time to go fishing for prizes!"

While Leo and Jason open the entry to the secret palace, Piper pulls her away from the group. For a moment, Ara feels a wild desperation, because she isn't ready to say goodbye and others can see it.

"You okay? I'm getting big waves of 'Help me!' from you, and I was standing pretty far away."

Ara watches how Leo works from a distance. "He treats machines in a kind, gentle way—they need care as much as us... He'll be sorely missed in camp."

Piper tries to get a real answer. "Ara, what's the matter?"

"Take a wild guess," she turns to her with frustration. "Jason is at risk of dying too. How do you feel about that?"

"I don't need to think of Jason to understand it," Piper responds dejectedly. "I'm scared for Leo too—even if he pretends to be okay, he's dreading it as much as us... I can try and make him reconsider."

Ara gives her a dry smile. "And what about me? Are you going to try and charmspeak me too?"

Piper looks like she might cry, but her face sets determinately. "If that's what my General orders me to do."

"This is my order, McLean," Ara squares her shoulders. "We can't fail, so make sure we stick to the plan."

Piper hugs her. "Ara..."

"It's opening!" Leo calls to them. "Piper, Ara, get ready!"

"Idiot mode," Ara kills the flames on her shoulder, groaning as they walk through the empty corridor. "I would've never thought of that."

"I do the absurd thinking for you," Leo winks, looking just as beaten. "I don't know why Hazel was so worried, it was easy."

"Yeah, right," Jason scowls at his ruined T-shirt.

"At least now we're seeing a doctor," Piper says. "He can fix us up."

"If he's a nice doctor—but maybe he's the father of apathetic medics," Ara jokes.

"Sometimes I wish you used your inner voice," Jason grumbles.

Piper knocks on the door gently. "Dr Asclepius?"

The guy behind the desk reminds Ara so much of her father—Paul, not the other idiot—that it softens her. He's got the hair, and smiles in the same playful yet calming manner her dad does, Ara almost expects him to start talking to Leo in Spanish.

"Hello!"

"Doctor." Piper smiles. "We'd be so grateful for your help. We need the physician's cure." Six months ago the girl had to lean on Ara to get her charmspeak working, now she's pouring it out of her effortlessly.

Asclepius presses a hand to his chest. "Oh, my dear, I would be delighted to help."

"You would?" Piper pulls herself out of the shock promptly. "I mean, of course you would!"

"Come in! Come in!"

The tug of nostalgia grows stronger when they enter his office: it reminds her of the infirmary in the camp. It's crazy, she's been away for only two months, but it comes down on her just now, as she's reaching the end of her trip—being so close yet so far from home is pure torture.

"Please, sit!" There are only two chairs, so Leo and Ara remain standing behind Jason and Piper. "So, I can't tell you how nice it is to actually talk with patients. The last few thousand years, the paperwork has got out of control. Rush, rush, rush. Fill in forms. Deal with red tape. Not to mention the giant alabaster guardian who kills everyone in the waiting room. It takes all the fun out of medicine!"

"Yeah, Hygeia is kind of a downer," Leo replies.

"My real daughter Hygeia isn't like that, I assure you," Asclepius chuckles. "She's quite nice. At any rate, you did well reprogramming the statue. You have a surgeon's hands."

"Leo with a scalpel?" Jason gets goosebumps. "Don't encourage him."

The doctor laughs openly. "Now, what seems to be the trouble?" He scans Jason. "Hmm... Imperial gold sword wound, but that's healed nicely. No cancer, no heart problems. Watch that mole on your left foot, but I'm sure it's benign."

Jason's eyes widen. "How did you—"

"Oh, of course! You're a bit short-sighted! Simple fix." He draws out a case and scribbles something on a notepad before handing it to the boy. "Keep the prescription for future reference, but these lenses should work. Try them on."

"Wait," Leo smirks. "Jason is short-sighted?"

"I—I have had a little trouble seeing stuff from a distance lately, I thought I was just tired." He puts on the glasses and blinks a few times. "Wow. Yeah. That's better."

"You look very distinguished," Piper smiles.

"Your transformation to nerd has been completed," Ara pipes in.

Leo snickers. "I'd go for contacts—glowing orange ones with cat's-eye pupils. Those would be cool."

"Glasses are fine," Jason glares at them. "Thanks, uh, Dr Asclepius, but that's not why we came."

"No? Well, let's see then..." He turns to Piper. "You seem fine, my dear. Broken arm when you were six. Fell off a horse?"

"How could you possibly know that?" Piper breathes in awe.

"Vegetarian diet—No problem, just make sure you're getting enough iron and protein. Hmm... a little weak in the left shoulder. I assume you got hit with something heavy about a month ago?"

"A sandbag in Rome. That's amazing."

"Alternate ice and a hot pack if it bothers you," Asclepius looks up at the person behind her, which happens to be Ara. His smile falters like he's reading something nonsensical. "Who are you?"

"Arae Jackson..." she voices reluctantly.

"The daughter of Olympus! That explains it," the doctor chuckles but still looks slightly tense. "You'll be fine."

"Cool," Ara tries to push her sarcasm to its lowest level. "That'll help me sleep at night."

"You sleep? Even better!" The doctor moves to Leo. "And you... Oh, my—Oh, I see..." The god's happy demeanor deflates as if there's nothing left to do.

"What?" Jason demands. "What's wrong with Leo?"

"Hey, doc," Leo clears his throat. "We came for the physician's cure. Can you help us? I've got some Pylosian mint here and a very nice yellow daisy..."

"Hold it," Piper interrupts. "Is there something wrong with Leo? Because he's planning to do something crazy, and if that won't help him—"

"Seriously, guys," Leo presses. "I'm fine, except for the fact that Gaia's destroying the world tomorrow, so I'm a bit bummed out about it. Let's focus."

"So this daisy was picked by my father, Apollo?" Asclepius continues. Ara has to admire his determination to maintain Leo's dignity.

"Yep—He sends hugs and kisses."

"I do hope Dad comes through this war all right," he glances at Ara. "You should too. Now, the only missing ingredient is the heartbeat of the chained god."

"I have it," Piper says. "At least... I can summon the makhai."

"Excellent. Just a moment, dear—Spike, are you ready?" The doctor asks to his staff.

Leo can't help snorting. "Your snake's name is Spike?" The python spreads its deathly-looking crown with a hiss. "My bad," he squeaks. "Of course your name is Spike."

"He's a little grumpy," Asclepius explains. "People are always confusing my staff with the staff of Hermes, which has two snakes, obviously. Over the centuries, people have called Hermes's staff the symbol of medicine, when of course it should be my staff. Spike feels slighted. George and Martha get all the attention."

"Unacceptable," Ara retorts plainly.

"Pylosian mint—certainty of death," the god lists the ingredients on his desk. "The curse of Delos—anchoring that which cannot be anchored. Now the final ingredient: the heartbeat of the chained god—chaos, violence and fear of mortality—My dear, you may release the makhai."

Wind surrounds Piper before it slides across the desk, carrying screams with it, and landing directly into Spike's mouth. The python then swallows the rest of the ingredients.

"Won't the poison hurt him?" Jason asks with curiosity.

"No, no," Asclepius brushes it off. "Wait and see."

Spike regurgitates a glass tube containing a dark reddish liquid that looks like thick blood, it's fragile, thin, and unassumingly small. "Lovely," Ara gulps, feeling sick. "That's it?"

"The physician's cure." Asclepius picks up the vial and blinks in confusion. "Wait... why did I agree to make this?"

"Because we need it to save the world. It's very important. You're the only one who can help us." Piper says, reaching out for it.

"Of course," Asclepius smiles again. "I forgot. But you must be careful. Hades hates it when I raise people from the dead. The last time I gave someone this potion, the Lord of the Underworld complained to Zeus, and I was killed by a lightning bolt. BOOM!"

Ara makes a face. "I know how that feels..."

Leo tilts his head. "You look pretty good for a dead guy."

"Oh, I got better. That was part of the compromise. You see, when Zeus killed me, my father Apollo got very upset. He couldn't take out his anger on Zeus directly; the king of the gods was much too powerful. So Apollo took revenge on the makers of lightning bolts instead. He killed some of the Elder Cyclopes. For that, Zeus punished Apollo... quite severely. Finally, to make peace, Zeus agreed to make me a god of medicine, with the understanding that I wouldn't bring anyone else back to life. And yet here I am... giving you the cure."

"Because you realize how important this is," Piper insists when the god's eyes lose focus. "You're willing to make an exception."

"Yes... At any rate, the potion must be administered as soon as possible after death. It can be injected or poured into the mouth. And there is only enough for one person. Do you understand me?" He looks pointedly at Leo.

"We understand," Piper glances at the boy with concern. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Asclepius? Your guardian is out of commission. You'd be really helpful aboard the Argo II."

"The Argo... back when I was a demigod, I sailed on the original ship, you know," he smiles. "Ah, to be a carefree adventurer again!"

"Yeah..." Jason lowers his gaze and pouts. "Carefree."

"But, alas, I cannot. Zeus will already be quite angry with me for helping you. Besides, the guardian will reprogram itself soon. You should leave. Best wishes, demigods. And, if you see my father again, please... give him my regrets."

This is a haven she'll miss, but she must face the world no matter how much it stresses her out—it is what she asked for, after all. Ara doesn't want to leave, but the reason she wants to stay is ridiculous.

"Birdy?" Leo tugs her hand. "Time to go."

The girl clears her throat and nods, turning around quickly. "Gods, I miss my parents."

"So where are you putting that?" Percy asks. "It has to be close to you when you die, so where are you keeping it?"

"Festus," Ara and Leo reply.

"We've been working on something... Leo did, since we started building the ship," Ara glances at the boy, still grumpy about it. "The blueprints never made much sense because they were two machines combined."

Annabeth raises a brow. "You're trusting Festus will work perfectly on its first try?"

"All my machines work on their first try, Chase, don't insult me," Leo scoffs.

No one speaks against it, all they know is they've been talking to Nike and Apollo, and their plan is solid enough to give them a glimmer of hope. That is all they'll get while handling two prophecies at once.

"Okay, then!" Leo claps, bringing them out of their stupor. "Athens tomorrow morning, gang. Be ready to fight some giants."

"Yeah..." Frank heaves a sigh. "I know I'll sleep well."

***

Leo sets the cure in place. "That'll do."

He traces the outline of Festus's open panel with reverence and Ara's heart tightens at the scene. Leo spent months perfecting the ship, and now they'll have to say goodbye to it... It's meant to be, but that doesn't mean it hurts less.

"Stop staring like that," Leo mumbles. "You make me feel like a wounded animal."

Ara looks away. "I know we didn't have a blast here... but I love this spanking hot war machine."

Leo scans the room wistfully. "We had our first kiss here, remember?"

All she can do is nod. Leo stands and hugs her loosely, leaning his head on her shoulder. Ara takes a shaky breath. "Such clumsy and unromantic first kiss—"

"Shut up." Leo scolds her. "You don't get to decide what it was. It's my first kiss. Mine." He shakes his head and steps back slightly. "I've heard all of your stories—even the ones you probably don't want me to know, and they tell me that inside this immaculate Barbie, there is a human girl who doesn't care about perfection. Why do you torture yourself like this?"

"That Ara isn't good enough," she scowls. "I'm better this way."

Leo frowns. "Do you know how much I love you just the way you are?"

"Do you know how long it took me to become the Ara that you know?" She asks back. "Nothing comes naturally, Leo. I don't wake up and simply exist—it's a full-time job..." Her voice dies a little, her words reminding her of what Eros hissed at Nico.

"Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work—a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you—especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards."

Ara's voice quivers. "I know you love me, Leo... I don't think I've done a good job loving you, that's all."

The boy cradles her face so she looks at him. "You warned me of the risks, and I fell in love anyway. You didn't trick me into being here, and I'll never regret it."

"I'm sorry," she sulks. "I focused on being a leader and I pushed our relationship aside, I should've—"

"Look at me," he insists, holding her firmly. "I dare you to say we weren't happy."

Ara tears up. "I thought I had more than enough to get by and then... I met you. I laughed and loved so much—life was beautiful for a moment. I was so lucky."

Leo's hands are shaking, but he manages a crooked smile. "Honestly, I still can't believe my luck either. My girlfriend is the hottest girl to ever live—" He lowers his gaze a moment when his voice breaks, unable to hide his true feelings. "Gods, Ara..." he takes a shaky breath. "I used to be so lonely."

Festus interrupts and Leo responds without looking up. "Yeah, buddy, it's time." The dragon creaks again and the boy chuckles weakly. "Yes, she'll wait for us. Won't you, doll?"

Ara pouts and nods, Leo wipes the tears from her face tenderly. "I've been waiting on you my whole life, and I'd like to say there is no pressure, but..."

Leo smirks. "I love a challenge."

Ara grins through the tears, then glances at the cure in Festus's panel. "So this is really happening, huh?"

"Too late to change plans," the boy nods, also staring at the vial.

"You can sleep in my cabin tonight."

"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!" Bufford hollers.

They burst out laughing. "Don't worry, son," Leo tells the small table as he closes the access panel. He then holds Ara's hand and pulls her out of the engine room. "We'll save that part for when I get back."

Next Chapter –>

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#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #leo valdez fanfic #doo #leo valdez x oc #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians

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