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ixiraider · 3 years

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For the last few years, since JumpStart’s ownership, Neo has been so fucking difficult. The year-long lag episodes, the permanent closing of major site components that players loved (like Habitarium, Keyquest, Petpet Park, etc), the laying off of every damn artist on the site (and it has ALWAYS shown), the constant broken ass events or events just not happening at all, multiple instances of art theft, lying without remorse to players (people glossed over the “we can’t make UCs… actually we can but only for staff… OKAY we can for everyone but only if you pay microtransactions” thing sooo quick), etc etc. It’s been a nightmare & I have been stupid enough at points to try to defend it and stay optimistic. I stayed optimistic when I literally couldn‘t play for months because that one purple cloud event broke every webpage for me and caused it to lag so much it would crash my browser. I downloaded all the dumb shovelware apps and really gave them an earnest shot. Maybe Neopets Scrabble™️ will be fun! Lmao.

I’ve been a player since 2003. I still have my account from 2003. I still have pets that are nearly 20 years old. Some of my most beloved OCs, including ones who have been featured in work I’ve published locally and plan to put into upcoming novels and such, originated from Neopets. My parents faxed in the parental consent forms for me for my birthday when I was 11. I always bought shitloads of merch. When the Darkest Faerie came out I begged my parents to buy me a whole PlayStation 2 for Christmas JUST for that. I ate the Neopets CEREAL religiously until it was discontinued. I had Neopets merch I don’t even see people talk about, like Neopets school supplies lol. I have Neopets Zazzle shirts from middle school that I still wear as pajamas. I have spent an embarrassing amount on NC and I will even admit to resorting to black market illegal Neopet purchases in the past, not the scummy account hacking kind but the “hey, you have more NP than me and I want this item, I’ll give you some cash for it” kind LMAO. Hell, as annoyed as I am at TNT for flat out lying about UCs, I even said myself that I think that making UCs a microtransaction is a good idea and to be honest were it not for the NFT garbage I’d have most likely bought some. I also went on about how cute the Neopets Pride merch was! Even if just a rainbow capitalism cash grab, I thought it was really nice. I have IRL friends who bought some. I have always been “a consumer” when it comes to this site. I love it.

When Neopets first unrolled the HTML5 site redesign I even defended THAT. I thought it looked a little Fisher Price-y but I don’t think it’s awful. I like that it feels more immersive, I like that it’s pet-centric, I think it’s generally user friendly and cute. It’s not perfect, but it’s a respectable beta that makes the site feels dynamic in a way I can get behind. But my fucking God, as a whole this site has gone to shit and I don’t feel like it’s salvageable unless it was basically restarted from scratch. A hard reset with whole new upper management. There’s just no fixing this.

I keep saying it and keep saying it but I am just fucking shocked that a site entirely based on VIRTUAL PETS still cannot LOAD. THE. PETS. The pets themselves, except for on the main page and in their static “miniature” version on the side of the unconverted page layout, have not been converted from Flash. My own pet’s lookup looks like this:

But every week they’re able to release new microtransactions and lootboxes? Give me a break. This shit is insane.

We still can’t play the hundreds of games the site boasted (also the easiest way to achieve quick currency) beside like 5 poorly converted games that hardly work. We still can’t see any of the world maps (not even a placeholder unclickable image? Like 75% of the site maps weren‘t even flash to begin with?). The pages that have been converted do not work well and often freeze and glitch, which would be understandable as the site is supposedly still in beta form but I honestly do not have faith that these smaller kinks will be worked out and fear that these issues will just go unresolved. Hacking and security breaches are still a massive, constant issue.

And I’m still hung up on the fact that this is a virtual fantasy animal site with no competent artists. We joked about the Advent Calendar’s terrible quality last year but honestly, how was that acceptable.

Small things have (IMO) signified to me for a long time that the site was dwindling. Implication from staff behind the scenes that they are barely holding things together. The downgrade to only one new pet color per pet day. The lack of new plots or events. The death of flash felt like a nail in a coffin that has led to a much more rapid and pathetic death than before. I have gone from encouraging people to try Neopets, telling them that it’s not dead and it’s still around and fun, to straight up not recommending the site. I don’t even log in anymore. I tried to find things to do while waiting for the HTML5 conversion to be “finished,” or at least made less broken, but I could not respark that excitement, especially when half the pages I was going to were inaccessible without having to Google something convoluted and go through Jellyneo or something and the pages themselves would be half-converted and covered in tombstones. It’d be ironic if it wasn’t so sad.

I’ve been saying this for awhile but it’s very clear that Neopets does not care about its userbase. I used to think maybe they were just out of touch, but I have to believe at this point that JumpStart/NetDragon truly does not give a damn. TNT maybe — I do think this is largely an upper management issue. But it’s just not tolerable anymore. They will listen to some amount of pressure & frankly know how to placate people with short term friendly gestures, like lifting the LGBT ban or removing dated offensive terminology from certain pages. These are appreciated, but what do they mean on a larger level when the site is still lying to users, stealing from people, and refusing to listen to any substantial criticism that would require more effort to fix? What does it mean when JumpStart chooses to prioritize selling THOUSANDS of NFTs over converting THE PETS THEMSELVES on the actual damn site?

The NFTs are just too much for me at this point. I can’t continue to engage with this shit until/unless major changes are made. I still love Neopets for the nostalgia it gave me for like two fucking decades of my life. But I don’t really have any passion for the site anymore. I’ve moved over somewhat to PonyIsland, which is pay to play but so much better run, with a small but active player base and mod team, frequent events, just as much (if not more) customization but minus the microtransaction/lootbox nature and artificial scarcity, etc. And, y’know, I can actually see my pets. That’s a plus. Just goes to show that I will literally throw real money at websites if they can actually deliver a product that is worth it to me. Neopets has not done that for YEARS.

I really do encourage people to boycott the site. Cancel your Premium memberships. Stop buying Neocash. Get an Adblock app if you don’t use one already or (better yet) just log out for awhile. We all make fun of people who think that Neopets can die, y’all know perfectly well they’ll be fine while you’re inactive. Send in your complaints. I know that Neopets has always been Gambling For Babies but y’all can stop doing dailies for awhile in the name of Not Destroying The Environment with half assed pixels of cartoon animals bought with Monopoly money, right? Right?

#Neopets #neotag #text

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wagner-fell · 3 years

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Spiders Are Ugly And Other Lies Capitalism Has Told Us (part one)

“Dad,” Astrid called out, shutting the coral coloured front door behind her. “Are you home?”

She dumped her cream tote bag spray painted with the words ‘Washing Machine Heart’ in big, rainbow letters onto one of the stools facing the granite countertop. The rest of the Merry Hoes followed suit. It was weird seeing a person as chaotic as Astrid in such a calm environment.

They were all spending the summer in LA with Astrid and her Dad. It had taken a while for Kevin to convince his family it was a good idea. Especially because he and Blessica had finally put years of pinning behind them. Making out on Kit’s bed at Mina’s third birthday party certainly wasn’t the way they had envisioned it but as the longing was over with, they were happy.

The Chu’s didn’t love the idea of their son living in a different country for three months with his girlfriend but we’re on board once Kevin assured them there was no possible way Blessica could get pregnant.

Kit wasn’t officially sleeping at the Yang’s but at the Institute with his boyfriend. Julian wasn’t so thrilled about the situation but Emma was. She was positively ecstatic about having a training partner as skilled as Kit was, courtesy of Jem and Tessa. Though staying a thirty minute drive away (on the wrong side of the road, Mari noted) wouldn’t keep Kit away for long. Even now he was with them instead of having his own reunion make out session.

Speaking of making out…

Mari rested their chin on the top of Astrid’s head and wrapped their arms around her middle. “Why don’t you show us your room while we wait for your dad to get home.”

It was kinda perfect, Mari often remarked, that she realized her feelings for their best friend weren’t so platonic as she previously led herself to believe at the same time they and Kit realized they were better off as just platonic.

Astrid hit her hand playfully. “That’s not fair!” she whined! ”How dare you take advantage of my constant hornyness when my God-fearing Presbyterian father could be in the next room? Shame! Shame on you, shame on your family, shame on your cow.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘dishonor’”, said Kit, who didn’t even look up from his phone when he addressed her, “but go off I guess.”

Astrid looked like she was questioning all her life choices up to this point. “A white boy knows Mulan better than me.” She shook her head in disgust. Mari could feel the loose hairs of her girlfriend’s ponytail ticking her exposed collar bone. “Mulan.”

Mari laughed before softly brushing their lips against Astrid mop of bleached strands of pastel yellow, pink and blue mixed magnificently with her natural inky black.

“Is hornyness even a word?” Kevin wondered aloud as he observed the knickknacks placed at even intervals utop the kitchen cabinets. Blessica was with him. She was gazing at one of a crab steering a ship when she spotted a slim piece of paper taped below it.

“Ast,” she called. The both looked in her direction, despite Blessica needing the attention of one. “Your dad says he won’t be home till seven. Emergency at work.”

“Which leaves us more than enough time to pack and head over to meet Ty, Dru and Thaìs at the arcade,” said Kit. He finally turned his phone off and shoved it into the back pocket of his ripped jeans. “Marstrid can do the ol’ devil’s tango then catch up to us.”

‘Marstrid’ wrinkled their noses. “I thought we agreed on Astari, Christopher.”

“Astari sounds gayer,” confirmed Kevin, his eyes never leaving the miniature decorations.

“Not to be rude but why does Astari sound gayer?” asked a visibly confused Blessica.

“Because,” answered Mari, unraveling herself from Astrid to slide onto one of the bar stools and reaching into the Jolly Rancher jar, blindly searching for a green, “Astari has ‘star’ in it. Star equals astrology. An obsession with astrology is the price you pay for the gay agenda. Besides, Marstrid sounds like an old southern lady.” Then she furrowed her eyebrows and swiveled to face Astrid. “Southern is Texas, right?” Astrid nooded, a smile so big the Cheshire Cat would be jealous.

Without looking, she stuck her hand in the jar and pulled out a green apple flavoured hard candy on her first try. She held it out to Mari, who snatched it out of her hand with an angry huff.

“Hey, Ast, where do you guys keep the crisps?” asked Kevin when he finished inspecting all the knickknacks.

“Uh, under the barbecue sauce, I think.”

Kit’s eyes lit up. “So I’m sitting there”- Astrid understood what was happening in just enough time to quote- “barbecue sauce on my titties” in unison.

Mari put her head into their open palms, still sucking on the pity candy. “Why is this my type?”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” asked Blessica as Kit attempted to parallel park outside the location Ty had texted him to meet at. Key word, attempt. When Tessa had taught him to drive, he’d been such a disaster at parallel parking she had instructed him to ‘take the underground when tight spaces might be a possibility.’ Which he prided himself in doing. But this was America and the underground was called the subway, so, technically, no rules were being broken.

“Yes, Blessie, I’m certain.”

“Okay. Just checking cause a few turns back the GPS said-”

“Blessie!” He nearly crashed into the car in front of him.

“Right. Shutting up.”

When Kit managed to park with minimal damage and the three were about to exit, the voice of Nicki Minaj boomed from his pocket. Ty was calling him. He accepted the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hello Tiberius.” There was giggling from the other end of the line. A groan soon followed it.

“It’s been a year,” came the annoyed voice of Dru. “Get over your British kink already.” Kevin’s laughter echoed from the backseat.

“Hey Ty!

“Hi Kevin.”

”Hey Dru!”

“Fuck off.”

“Ouch. Why do you feel the need to hurt me so?” Blessica laughed.

“Hey…Thaìs?”

“Here,” replied Thaìs cheerfully.

“Are you here yet,” asked Ty.

“Uh, yeah! We were just getting out of the rental car when you called. You didn’t tell me it was going to be crowded. I had to parallel park!”

“What are you talking about?” interrupted Dru. ”There are only four cars in the parking lot.”

“But,” Ty countered, “there are lots of Billy’s Fun Zones’ around here. You guys must have got mixed up and taken a wrong turn. I could have sworn I sent you the correct location on GPS.” Maybe Ty said more on the subject but Kit could hear anything or see anything except the superior smirk Blessica was giving him.

He covered the speaker. “Not. A. Word.” And no word came out of her mouth the entire ride to the correct Billy’s Fun Zone but the ‘I told you so’ look on her face spoke loud enough.

Kit slid back into the booth next to Ty, handing him his pretzel. Ty kissed him on the check in gratitude.

Dru and Ty were right. About this one being empty. He told him he had heard about it from Alyssa. Her pack frequented it often. They were left alone because, well, there was no one else there to bother them.

“Where are Astrid and Mari?” he asked.

“Fucking. I think. Or maybe just making out. I’ll know which one when they finish.” When Ty gave him a puzzled look he continued, “Astrid describes it all to me in full detail. I honestly don’t know whether she doesn’t have a filter or she just needs someone to scream to about how amazing Mari is.”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“True, true.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Ty picked up the conversation again. “When Thaìs first met Astrid, she had a huge crush on her. They got along great. I always thought they would end up together. Or hook up at the very least.”

“Huh, that’s funny,” observed Kit.

“What is?”

“When me and Mari split, I was planning on trying to set them up with Thaìs. But then I caught her ans Astrid making out in a storage closet at school. Which, in hindsight, was pretty stupid cause they were in there so I wouldn’t be sad Mari moved on when I opened the door in the first place avoiding her to call you.”

“Hmmmm.”

The gears in Ty’s head were visibly turning. Kit loved watching this process. An idea was forming in his boyfriend’s genius mind, he could sense it.

“What is their stance on monogamy?” he asked finally.

“Um, fuck, hold on. Mari sent me this whole speech about it.” Kit scrolled through his phone at a rapid rate before he saw what he was looking for. He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:52 AM: monogamy is just another lie capitalism has fed us

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:55 AM: like, for example, the notion that house spiders are ugly and to be feared

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: it’s just to sell bug spray

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: same with monogamy

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: pointless!!!

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:58 AM: in conclusion, if I want to join a polyam cult, who tf is the government to stop me?

Kev-Kev, sent 2:01 AM: mari please go to sleep

Bless-ing_to_the_world, sent 2:04 AM: ^^^^^^^^^^^

Mitski_my_love, sent 2:05 AM: preach!

Mitski_my_love, sent 2:05 AM: go off queen

By the time Kit was finished with his dramatic reading, Ty’s plan was fully formed.

“That settles it! We are going to play matchmakers!”

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

Alyssa, Ty’s friend mentioned is @thechangeling OC, not mine.

@the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @adoravel-fenomeno @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @sofiatheskeleton @cncnbr @its-taff @noah-herondale-lightwood @maxboythedog @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @book-dragon-not-worm sorry if I missed anyone LMK if you want to be added or removed from The tag List!!

#mari machado sotomayor #mari machado #mari the werewolf #tiberius blackthorn #dru blackthorn #ty blackthorn #drusilla blackthorn #blessica reyes #the merry hoes #kevin chu #astrid yang #kit rook #kit herondale #thais pedroso #the secrets of blackthorn hall #the wicked powers

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realbacchus · 3 years

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List of favorite customers when I worked as a cashier:

Guy who made me smell every candle he bought

Instacart girl who kept wishing my happy birthday even though it wasn't for 2 weeks

Guy who had the same birthday as me who excitedly told me he loves June 15th because it's the middle day of the middle month. (And then we wished each other happy birthday even though it wasn't for a month and a half)

The parents of the person who lives in the same dorm I did freshman year. We met because the stars aligned

The man who excitedly waited for his wife to come back from the bathroom only so he could tell her I had a cool name

The man in booty shorts and a hunting shirt that complimented my rainbow heart earrings (in June) and then proceeded to talk shit about capitalism to me very loudly and passionately while bagging

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rosesisupposes · 6 years

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Do It For Us

Sequel to Do It For Him

word count: 5,881

pairing: Royality, background Analogical

warnings: Some mentions of poverty, forced ending of friendships, Deceit Is A Bit Of A Dick, mention of arranged/forced marriage, but mostly Quite A Lot of Fluff

reader tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty

And, of course, happy birthday month to Royality Queen @notveryglittery and a million thanks to my beta reader and platonic wife @mariniacipher

I had so much fun with the previous fluff, and then @xxxbladeangelxxx inspired me to give the sunshine gays a sequel <3

Read on ao3

Sun glinted and flashed over the metallic staccato of swords clashing against each other. Grunts of efforts mixed with heavy breathing, as two men squared off in the castle courtyard. One feinted to his right then brought his blade in a flashing arc to his left, but his opponent saw through the ruse and blocked easily before retaliating with a snake-like thrust, laying his blade on the other’s neck. The man knelt, acknowledging defeat.

“I yield.”

“A good match, Ian!”

The kneeling man smiled, shaking sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “It’s kind of you to say, but we all know you’re just so gods-cursed fast, Sir Roman. All we can hope for is to hold our own.” The standing knight grinned, auburn hair only just barely dark at the edges from exertion. “That’s what training’s for, is it not? Learning how to beat me.”

Roman was stretching and chatting with other knights and soldiers in the training yard when he caught sight of a silent audience member to the early morning exercises.

He slipped over to the corner to greet his Prince, grabbing a damp towel on the way to wipe his face.

“Patton, dearest, what wakes you so early?”

The young heir to the throne grinned up impishly at the knight-captain of his guard. “A little birdie told me you practiced shirtless.”

None of his bravado and bluster was enough to prepare Roman for this. A blush immediately spread across his cheeks as his gaze dropped. He was the man primarily responsible for the kingdom’s heir, and he’d run his mother’s farm for years before beginning the rigorous knight training of the past decade and a half. Every inch of his body had been toned in service to the crown and the prince in front of him. And said prince was gazing besottedly at his muscled chest with a warmth that had nothing to do with lust. Or rather, almost nothing.

Pulling them both around the corner, out of view of the soldiers, Roman leaned down to kiss Patton softly. Patton smiled up into the kiss, feeling the heat of Roman’s continuing blush. He broke apart, letting the sensation linger, when suddenly he squeaked as Roman lifted him and spun him around.

“Who knew our sweet prince was so shallow?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“Only my gaze is shallow: my love is deep,” the prince responded, giggling as he regained his footing. He kissed Roman’s cheek and delighted in the pink tinge that resumed there.

“Dear one, as much as I love to see you, I am starving. I’m on my way to the kitchens unless you need my protection now?”

Patton’s smile dropped for a moment before returning. “No, sweet. I would never keep you from your meals. I will be in my room.”

Growing up as a single child in a royal family meant a young Patton had to be rather creative when it came to making friends. An impressively strong sweet tooth combined with an ability to easily slip past his etiquette teacher led him to toddle down to the kitchens almost every other day. Puppy eyes earned him cookies from the maids and chefs unable to resist. It was after a successful mission, when he was sitting in his favorite alcove, munching on macarons, that he spotted another boy his age.

“Hey! Hello! Who are you?” he piped up happily, waving with his free hand. The other balanced his haul of violet cookies in his now-stained tunic.

The boy froze, eyes wide as he realized the comment had been indeed aimed at him.

“Me? ‘M no one.”

“Silly, no one is no one!” the little prince said cheerfully. “Do you wanna mac’ron?”

The boy approached shyly. “Yeah, that would be nice. They’re my fav’rite color too.”

Patton handed the dark-haired child one of the tiny sandwiches. Cautiously, the other bit into it.

“Oh! ‘S good!” he exclaimed, mouth full.

“What’s your name?”

“Um, Virgil. Virge.”

“I’m Patton! Hi!”

Virgil nearly dropped the remaining half of the cookie. “The prince?”

“Uh-huh! Here, do you want another?”

“I, uh, no, I can’t, they said I can’t talk to the prince or the king or the duke because I’m too little and shy, I don’t wanna be bad.”

“That’s silly,” the little prince said. He squinted at the other boy. He’d already decided that Virge was his new best friend - for the first time, an adult hand wasn’t immediately pulling him away from him. “Dada is very nice. An’ Lyle is silly. You won’t be bad for talking to them!”

Virgil swallowed, then ate more of the cookie. “You sure?”

“Of course!” Patton responded, beaming. “Do you wanna play with me?”

Every day, Virgil expected he’d see the last of the prince, that playing hide-and-seek with a scullery servant would lose its appeal. But instead, their friendship only grew as the years stretched on.

When they were ten, he’d snuck Patton out of the castle for the first time, checking behind him every second. But they’d made it into the city without detection. They’d played hopscotch with other children in the main square, helped a seamstress hold her fabric still, and found a mother cat giving birth to a litter of kittens. Not even discovering his allergy to the fluffy creatures had dampened the young royal’s spirits, and they’d snuck back into the castle high on success.

When they were fourteen, Patton had found Virgil hiding in the dark corner, trying to calm racing thoughts that wouldn’t shut up. Patton had held his hand, talking quietly, and gotten him to start listing what he could see and feel. Virgil had confessed that he’d never tried those strategies before. Patton had hugged him tight to make up for all the times he hadn’t been there.

Roman had put a shirt on, at last, to go find food after training. Following his nose, he spied jam tarts cooling on the counter and slipped into the kitchen through the back door. Cautiously, he went to take a treat, only to get his hand slapped by a mixing spoon. Virgil’s glare made him smile sheepishly.

“Just one?”

“If you want to explain to the full Noble’s Council why their pastry tray isn’t perfectly arranged, then yes, you may have ‘just one,’” the pastry chef complained. “You know we have regular food down here, too.”

Roman sighed dramatically. “But without pastries, how will I survive? How will I live? I beg of you, take pity on me!”

“Then beg,” Virgil responded flatly. Then he made the mistake of making eye contact with the knight and snorted, falling into true laughter. “I’m making regular jam cookies later, Ro. Come back in the afternoon, I’ll keep some on the side for you. These are just the nice ones, kay?”

Roman grinned. “This is why you’re the coulis-t person I know, Virge.”

Virgil groaned in response. “I never should have taught you proper pastry terms. Talyn has some sliced ham and rolls in the next room, go beg from them, alright? I need to finish decorating.”

The knight gave a small mock of a bow and obeyed.

He and Virgil hadn’t always been so friendly. As a young man arriving to the castle for knight training, he’d haunted the kitchens every waking moment. The idea of a full belly was still exciting to a boy whose farm had struggled with droughts for almost half his life. But his sister and her husband had taken over the farm, and he’d been picked out for his strength to become a fighter.

He’d spent his first month in the castle sneaking into the storerooms at every given opportunity, eating anything he thought he could get away with. The kitchen helper, who was about his age, perhaps a year younger, had caught him first in the middle of the day, despite the lunch rush, then in the dead of night. How had he even been awake?

Roman was self-conscious of his hunger, surrounded by all that wealth, and lashed out at the creepy cookie who kept turning up when he least expected it.

But then, one quiet afternoon, he’d been sure the kitchens would be entirely empty. It was the rest period, so surely the safest time for a quick snack. Walking cautiously, he’d rounded the corner, only to see Virgil, covered in flour and butter stains as he carefully plaited a pie crust into a sheaf of wheat. The serenity of his concentration, the clear ease that came with no kitchen madness around him, and his proud smile as he successfully sealed his pastry forced Roman to see him in a new light. He’d cautiously come forward and complimented a job well done. One would think he’d actually seen a field of wheat, once!

The other man had nearly jumped out of his skin at first, but had then calmed enough to wave off the compliment with a smile. They’d had an actual conversation for the first time ever, and hundreds more soon followed. A strange friendship, perhaps, one that was tested every time Virgil made homemade jam for a treat that Roman wasn’t allowed to eat, but a strong friendship all the same.

Roman often wished he was able to show his love for Patton more openly, so that he could introduce the prince to the friends he’d made in the castle.

As he got into uniform to begin an official day as Patton’s protector, Roman spared a sigh for an old friend he’d yet to find here in the capital city. Growing up in a small farming community on the furthest borders of the kingdom, Roman had known only his siblings and parents until a new family moved into the plot next door. Their house burst with children, but there was one boy his age, one who viewed his very energetic siblings with a world-weary eye, even at seven years old. But Roman, the youngest by a huge age gap, was lonely, and jumped at even a stick-in-the-mud as a potential playmate.

Their parents saw Logan and Roman’s friendship as oil and water, yelling matches during chores, long arguments that stretched through the harvest. But their clashes only showed how well-matched they were, how their competition forced them both to improve. Logan brought home books from the headwoman’s private library and introduced Roman to classics and plays, if only so they could immediately argue about the proper interpretation. More than one winter’s night found them in one of the barns with Roman leaping around a makeshift stage in an effort to prove how dramas were meant to be seen, not read.

But then, Logan left. The headwoman knew how much his parents struggled through the droughts with so many mouths to feed, and saw Logan’s innate brilliance. She found an opportunity for him to receive room and board in the capital city itself, and he’d be able to receive the best education Solarya had to offer. It was everything he could have wanted - except, he couldn’t bring his friend. Roman couldn’t leave his farm, anyway - his older brother was serving in the army, his sister had married and moved, and there was no one else to help his parents.

“Lo, I promise, someday I’ll come join you! You’ll see!”

“Roman, while I hope you’re correct, do not make promises you may never be able to keep. It is enough to say that we will try to reunite one day.”

They were standing at the gate, waiting for the coach that would take Logan and his few worldly possessions away, when Roman impulsively hugged the other boy. “I’ll miss you, Logan.”

The eleven-year-old stiffened, then hesitantly hugged back. “I… will miss you as well, Roman.”

Logan hadn’t expected the capital to be so overwhelming. Obviously there would be more people, but why was it so loud? Did more people in one space mean everyone needed to shout all the time? Even inside the castle, there was ambient sound everywhere. He didn’t find his first moment of peace until he was shown to the library. And the quiet of the room couldn’t compare to the symphony of excitement in his brain. Who knew there were so many books? So much knowledge to be unlocked! He was about to dive in when the closing door behind him caught his attention.

“Hello there!” a cheerful voice said in a very energetic library whisper. “You must be Logan!”

Turning, he caught sight of a jovial-looking man in the robes of a Royal University scholar. Round glasses balanced atop a long nose above a huge smile. “I’m Dr. Picani, your tutor. Do you how do?”

Logan stared. This man was not at all what he’d pictured as the most-respected professor in the kingdom. And what was that last sentence? He recognized all the words, but not in that order.

“Uh, hello?” he murmured back. “Yes, I’m Logan. I… sorry, you’re my tutor?”

“You betcha!” the happy man replied. “Not yours alone, of course. We’ll be sharing our time with one other student, who should arrive any second. Let’s go to the study room, shall we?”

He led the way to a small room that contained even more books in addition to a huge slate hung on the wall and two tables with a handful of chairs. Logan sat, still a bit dazed.

Barely a moment had passed before a rap sounded on the door. Dr. Picani opened it to reveal a huge soldier with a no-nonsense expression. “Dr. Picani. His Highness for his lessons.”

The professor nodded, and the soldier stepped aside to reveal a boy a bit younger than Logan. He had clean golden curls and wore a silk tunic. Logan was immediately uncomfortable. Sharing a class with a noble? Who’d probably be much smarter and resentful of sharing a class with a less-educated commoner? He looked down at the wood grain of the table, swallowing disappointment with the reality of what had appeared to be all his dreams coming true.

“Hiya!” a voice cut through. “I’m Patton, what’s your name?”

“Uh, Logan,” he replied, looking up once more.

“Nice to meet you Logan! I’ve never seen you in the castle before, are you new?”

“Yes, I just moved to the city.” Logan decided to not mention where he’d come from - better not give this noble any more reason to look down on him, no matter how strangely friendly he appeared to be. “I presume you’ve lived here for many years?”

“Since I was born! Not that I remember it exactly. Or really anything until I was three. Maybe I only moved here then? No but Dad says we’ve always been here so that’s probably right…”

Logan stared at the other young man as he happily chattered away. Was this what all nobles were like? The few who’d ridden through his hometown had barely made eye contact, let alone talked to commoners like normal people.

“Your Highness, maybe we better start the lesson?” Dr. Picani interjected with a smile.

Logan’s eyes grew huge in his face as he stared at the boy next to him. The guard had said it too - was this really the Prince of Solarya? Yes, Logan knew the Prince was named Patton, but it had become a very popular name in short order since the royal family chose it. The heir to the entire kingdom was grinning bashfully up at their shared tutor, practically still bouncing in his seat with anticipation.

The capital city was bizarre. But seeing the eager smiles on both his tutor’s and the prince’s faces, Logan realized he was probably going to have to get used to it.

As he neared his eighteenth birthday, Prince Patton was pulled into a small audience with his father and the vizier. Both men were stern.

“Prince Patton, why have you been neglecting your deportment classes?”

Patton winced - he’d hoped they wouldn’t notice. “Actually, Father, I have been using that time to learn more about my future kingdom and subjects-”

“You mean you’ve been spending excess time with your servants,” Duke Lyle cut in. Patton fell quiet, seeing his father’s frown deepen.

“Patton, you’re the crown prince; one day, you’ll be king. Our entire country’s fate will be in your hands. But the throne is only as strong as the respect our people have for it. If the prince himself doesn’t exercise proper decorum, doesn’t maintain the acceptable boundaries between liege and vassal, then no one will. Order will disintegrate, and every noble house in our realm will be affected. Now that you are coming of age, you must end these distractions, before another day passes.”

“But Father-”

“No buts, Prince Patton. My decision is final. If you cannot treat those who serve us in the proper manner, and insist on treating them as peers, I will be forced to dismiss them entirely.”

Patton felt tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. He was to lose his friends, then, no matter what he did. At the very least, he would not cost them their livelihoods.

“Very well, Father. I will do as you ask.”

Duke Lyle watched, eyes glittering in victory, as Patton left his father’s study and slowly trudged up the tower steps to his room.

Patton’s birthday arrived, and he was officially presented to the realm as the now-adult heir, no longer just the son of the king but now the official Crown Prince and king-to-be. He performed his role in the pageantry well, smiling and appearing solemn in the appropriate moments. He greeted dignitaries who brought well-wishes, he listened to subjects’ petitions as they appealed to his father, and he did his best to follow the deliberations of his father’s council of advisors. But under his polite mask, he was miserable.

Without his friends, he was alone in a world filled with adults who expected him to carry himself with all the dignity of a royal, yet did not listen to a single suggestion he made. Without the ability to visit Logan in the library, or Virgil in the kitchens, Patton’s days started to blend into one another as he was sent from meeting to audience to meal to meeting.

He begged his father to at least let him visit the city. “I won’t forget my position, Your Majesty. But I wish to be visible to them, at least. Please?”

King Thomas weighed his son with his eyes, then relented. “You may, then. But you’ll need a guard with you at all times.”

Patton deflated the slightest bit. “I suppose that would be most proper, wouldn’t it. One of the castle guards, then?”

Duke Lyle piped up, “Your Majesty, now that the Prince is of age, he ought to have a personal contingent of guards, shouldn’t he?”

The king nodded. “Indeed. There are a number of promising knights who might perform the job quite well.”

Patton was able to even smile naturally at both men. Having to keep the common folk at arm’s length wasn’t ideal, but at least he’d be able to talk to them. And having a knight-guardian would mean he’d at least have companion, if not a friend.

“Your Royal Highness,” Duke Lyle spoke up. “It has come to my and His Majesty’s attention that your silver jubilee is approaching.”

“My what?”

“You turn 25 this year, son,” the king answered. “When I was your age, I had been married a year, and you, my first child, had been born. It is time we look into marriage for you.”

“Father, Duke Lyle, I hardly think such a thing is necessary, not when Father is in such good health-”

“This is not just for the purpose of heirs and lineage, your Highness,” the vizier said smoothly. “Through your marriage, we can make an alliance, or settle tensions with noble houses in our realm or our neighbors’.”

Patton twisted hands in his tunic, hoping neither man noticed. How could he bear to marry another, when Roman’s love was all he wanted or sought? But they’d never approve, or allow such a thing.

“For instance,” the duke continued, his tone one of careful detachment, “the great house of Sanders has a son about your age. His parents are actively searching for an eligible match for him. And of course, they would never want to match him with someone entirely outside his preferences, just as we never would for you, Prince.”

“There are also some younger sons in neighboring kingdoms who could potentially make for a good alliance, but securing the support of House Sanders would be my preference,” the king added.

“I, uh, I thank you, your Majesty, your Grace. May I be excused to think on these options?”

“Of course, son. We will resume at another time.”

Patton walked outside quickly. Pushing through the door into the hall, he came face-to-face with Roman, who was smiling at him with that same gorgeous light in his eyes that always set the butterflies in his stomach a-flutter. But now the butterflies were sluggish and frail, disintegrating into a nauseating goo.

“Roman, can you come to my room? We need to talk,” Patton said. His normal smile quivered as he looked around the hall for observers.

“Of course, dearheart,” Roman said warmly, leading the way. He was so graceful in all his movements that Patton’s heart burned just to watch him walk away.

“Roman, my rose, it’s my father, and the vizier. They… want me to marry. A political marriage. One who just so happens to be Duke Lyle’s nephew. The young Baron Remington of House Sanders.”

Roman stiffened, then smiled sadly. “We knew it would come to this, did we not? We dared to love, knowing the impropriety of it, but we dared all the same. Sunshine, I would never interfere with your duty. I will always guard you, with my heart and my life, but if you must needs marry this noble, I will not stand in the way.”

“You wouldn’t resent it?”

“Would I pine and sorrow for my misfortune?” Roman asked, kissing Patton’s hand softly, then holding it against his own cheek. “Of course I will. I’ll curse my ill luck in being born common, cry fie upon the stars for separating us by our lineage. But I could never resent you, dearheart. Nor can I regret having the chance to have known you and loved you these past six years, not when I treasure each adoring glance and each kiss as dearly as I treasure my life. I only ask that you allow me to remain your vassal and guard, to hold you safe when I cannot hold you close.” Patton melted, hearing Roman’s rich, caramel-sweet voice speak such tender words of devotion. He leaned in to kiss the knight’s affectionate words while they lingered on his lips, and in that moment made a decision.

“Roman, I am to be king, am I not?”

“You’re already the king of my affections, but yes, you will be king of Solarya too, in time.”

“And the king’s rule of Solarya is absolute.”

“As it has been since the Sun herself named the first monarch, yes.”

Patton nodded. “If I’m to be the absolute ruler in the future, I can’t let anyone push me around with edicts that go against my heart and conscience.”

Roman caressed his prince’s cheek with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I won’t be coerced into marrying for politics when it necessitates a revolt against my affections. I will refuse to marry Baron Sanders.”

Roman felt his heart galloping in his chest as he met Patton’s shining, determined eyes.

“Patton, do you mean…?”

“Yes, my dear knight. Please, if you’ll have me…” He sank to one knee in front of Roman, keeping their hands clasped. “Sir Roman, will you marry me?”

Roman felt tears leaking out the edge of his eyes as he smiled so wide that his cheeks started to ache. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Prince Patton. I have been and always will be yours. Yes, I will marry you, dearest sweet.”

Patton found he was tearing up as well Roman pulled him up to stand with him. Brushing his cheek with light fingers, Patton kissed his now-fiancé thoroughly. As the kiss suddenly turned salty from spilled tears, both men started to giggle. Roman felt his breath catch in his chest, watching the afternoon sun catch Patton’s curls as he threw his head back to laugh. The knight pulled his prince back to him, tasting the sound of laughter on his love’s lips.

“Father. I am not going to marry the Baron. I will be marrying my guard, Sir Roman.” The king stared in shock as his son continued, doors still hanging open from him barging into the king’s private study. “I will be also inviting my old friends from within the castle to our wedding. You may rule as you wish while you continue on the throne, but my reign will not be so divided between classes.”

The vizier, in his customary place by the king’s side, found his voice. “Your Highness, this is all highly-”

“‘Highly improper’? Yes, your Grace, I’m sure it is. And I plan to do it all the same.”

“Your Majesty, you must intercede-”

King Thomas turned to face his chief advisor. “Lyle, you know I value your judgment and advice, but it’s true. Patton will determine his own ruling style. I won’t undermine it, through marriage or otherwise.”

The duke tried once more. “Perhaps, then, a small, private ceremony within the castle?”

“No, your Grace. I am not ashamed of my fiancé nor his status. It will be a full state wedding.”

And it was.

The day dawned bright and sparkling. Keepers of the royal dovecote prepared the white feathery creatures for the grand finale. Footmen laid yards and yards of carpet along the aisle and lined up the benches and chairs of the interior ceremony, while even more footmen and maids displayed bouquets down and out of the public audience doors where the rest of the crowd would watch.

In the office that had been taken over as the central location for the wedding planning, Patton knelt to be on eye level with his floral consultant. “Is everything in order?”

“Yup!” Val responded with a grin the displayed a missing front tooth.

“Even the crowns?”

“You don’t get to see them yet!” she responded, sticking out her tongue. “No peeking!”

Patton grinned and kissed her hand. “I’ll leave them in your capable hands then!” Standing, he exchanged a quick hug and kiss on the cheek with Teresa. He’d commissioned them to arrange every single flower for their celebration, with the full power of the royal treasury behind them. Looking around this room, still filled to bursting with lovely blooms and wreathed in a rich bouquet of scents, he knew he’d made the right choice.

He left and went through the kitchens.

There was Virgil, head pastry chef, forehead creased in concentration as he directed the last details of the grand wedding cake, as a helper delicately placed a sugar-spun rose on the top. The chef turned and caught the eye of the prince with a shy grin. Patton mirrored it and flung himself forward to hug the man.

“Thank you for forgiving me, Virgil.”

“Hey, it was royal duty and all that, right? Knowing you wanted us back, and to be part of your wedding - how could I say no? Even if it is to that lunkhead of a knight.”

“Excuse you!” Roman said, entering with an offended gasp.

Virgil smirked and hugged Roman as well. “Oh good, I didn’t want to talk about you behind your back. Always better to call you a simpleton to your face.”

Roman grinned. “I’d expect nothing more from my favorite marzi-pain. You’re going to be free for the ceremony, right?” He slipped his hand into Patton’s, still getting a tingle of excitement from being so open in front of others.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up here. Is L-, uh, is Logan getting pulled away from his books too?”

“We twisted his arm, or rather, Patton asked very kindly and possibly offered to increase the library budget. So yes.”

“Why, is there a reason you’d perhaps like our resident scholar to be present?” Patton asked in his blandest-possible court voice.

Virgil ducked his head in response and said nothing, but Roman and Patton made eye contact as they both noticed the tiny smile playing across their friend’s lips.

A servant popped his head through the kitchen door. “Your Highness! And Knight-Captain! Thank goodness. We’re getting close to the ceremony, we need to get you both ready!”

The fiancés squeezed their linked hands once more before following the servant out, waving to Virgil as they left.

Royal fanfare sounded as a string quartet began to play processional music. King Thomas stood at the altar as Duke Lyle attempted to conceal his glower in his place at the king’s elbow. They looked with the rest of the audience as people from the city, the guard, and the castle turned in their seats. Two aisles curved on either side of the seating area.

As gentle tones played, young women strode down the carpeted aisles, sprinkling flower petals. One wore light pink and purple under a blonde updo, and the other in blue and white under a matching hairdo in light brunette. Patton and Roman emerged in their wake from separate entrances. Virgil and Logan, in matching slate-grey suits, accompanied each fiancé as they paced deliberately down the aisle. Roman wore a custom dress uniform, a beautiful work in red and white, accented with gold filigree. The seal of the ancient House of Solarya had been reworked into his own flattering colors. His auburn hair was perfectly curled and shone in the sunlight. But it was nothing compared to the blaze of his smile as he neared his beloved Prince.

Patton gripped Virgil’s elbow tight as he strove to keep his steps in time with the music. The prince had kept the pomp of his station for the ceremony itself, but when it came to his own person, his modesty shone through. He did not wear the silken doublet and hose of the royal family, nor the yards-long cloak. He had chosen to leave off even a modest tiara or circlet to show his rank. Instead, he dressed in the finery of his citizens: tailored long jacket and long pants in his signature light blue. In his lapel, a rose as red as cherries in summer was affixed proudly, mirroring the lovely sprig of hydrangea pinned to Roman’s sash.

At last, both journeys down the aisle were complete, as Roman and Patton came face-to-face at the aisle. Taking his hands, Patton smiled so wide his face was practically split in two. The musicians finished on a last sweet note as King Thomas stood forward to officiate.

“Ladies, lords, nonbinary nobility, and all our treasured friends of Solarya,” he spoke, his strong voice projecting out the open public doors to the waiting public beyond. “Thank you, one and all, for joining us on a day of such bliss for our family. Our son and heir, Prince Patton, means today to wed Sir Roman, Knight-Captain of the Castle Guard. We are beyond proud of our son, and bless this union wholeheartedly. They have prepared their own vows.” The king stepped back, bowing their head. Virgil, far too close to the current head of the nation for his comfort, was startled to spot the king wiping away a single happy tear that coursed down the royal cheek.

“Dearest Patton,” Roman began, clearing his throat. “Whether near or far, I am always yours. I was content to be your guardian from all the world. Now, I pledge to be your champion, protecting your person, your throne, and your heart. I will tell you each morning those qualities of yours that I’ve fallen in love with, and I will never run dry as I fall in love more each day. From now until forever, dear sweet. I love you.”

Logan watched his childhood friend glowing with adoration and found his normal distaste with sentiment had entirely vanished. Or perhaps it had curled up in his throat and was the reason he now felt almost close to tears. He surreptitiously sneaked a glance as his fellow groomsman and saw Virgil’s shining eyes grow soft in his face as he watched the gentle kiss Roman planted on his beloved’s hand.

Patton carefully wiped an eye underneath his glasses and took his turn to speak. “My precious Roman. I feel as if I have loved you for a thousand years, and yet I know I will love you for at least a thousand more. Glorious knight, your courage takes my breath away, and your ideals alight a fire in my mind and heart. I pledge to never again be your liege, but your partner, equal in every sense. You will be no royal consort, but my king as I will be yours. From now until forever: I love you.”

At the prince’s pronouncement, Virgil watched Roman’s eyes widen. He risked a look behind to see a similar level of shock in the king’s eyes, and something that looked like speechless indignation in the Duke’s. It seemed Patton hadn’t told any besides his best men of his plan to elevate Roman to full royal status, including his husband-to-be.

But Roman recovered as Patton elegantly bowed to kiss his hand in return, and Teresa, glorious in a coppery gown, stepped forward with a mahogany box. Virgil and Logan walked to meet her as she flipped open the top, revealing two flower crowns nestled in a velvet bed. Tiny red roses and individual blue hydrangea flowerheads created two circlets as the best men removed them and set them upon the grooms’ heads. Long silken ribbons in gold connected the two crowns to each other, allowing room for Roman and Patton to turned to face the crowd. As the audience caught sight, there was a gasp followed by a roar of approval and joy. The binding crowns, as they were called, were part of the age-old Solaryan commoner marriage ceremony. Only the most progressive or least-connected noble houses had adopted the tradition that almost every other citizen of the country practiced. But now the citizens of Solarya watched as their crown prince stood with his husband in the finery they themselves had worn on their wedding days. And the delicate crowns sat where soon would lie the two crowns of their future kings.

King Thomas was barely able to speak through his delighted tears, but managed to squeak out: “Husband and husband!”

Roman took the opportunity to dip his love deep and kiss the prince in full view of the entire kingdom as white doves took flight and celebratory bells began to peal, bright and loud. They’d done it, in spite of all. They’d defied, class, norms, and propriety to declare and affirm their love to all who cared to see. A new age of Solarya dawned on the horizon, as bright as their patron Sun and just as warm.

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chronicangelca · 5 years

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Coming Out Of My Cage (I’m Not Doing Fine At All)

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 2506 Date posted: March 19, 2019

Summary: He stares at her with wide eyes and that's when it hits her because he's gay, oh God, he's gay.

He's been pretty sure he was gay since he was 13 years old and Jake tried out for the soccer team at his middle school. He didn't go to school with him, nor did he actually make the team, but he'd sent selfies to their group chat with Roxy and Jane and he had thanked God that his brother wasn't home because he had immediately popped a boner on the couch and he's not sure what he'd have done if he had been. Died on the spot, probably.

Still, he didn't tell anyone. Dirk lives in Houston, Texas, after all, and he's pretty sure that's the homophobia capital of the United States, if not the entire world. (Well, okay, Houston is actually pretty progressive compared to the rest of Texas, but that doesn't mean that a boy at his school wasn't called a fag and beaten bloody in the locker room after gym class right in front of him when he was 14 and it sure as hell doesn't mean that he was going to be the guy to step in and say something even as he had been pretty sure for a full year at that point that he was also a fucking fag.)

He didn't tell his brother, who is openly homophobic and who might just disown him, until he was almost 16, just a couple of weeks before his birthday. School called a snow day, which he thought was fair, considering the fact that they lived in Houston, Texas and while it was only 2 inches of snow, the roads had iced over and very few people living there were used to that shit. His brother had been at work as usual, though, so Dirk had had the apartment to himself.

His brother had walked in on him cranking it to gay porn, and he'd screamed for twenty minutes straight that there was no way his little brother was some queer and that shit is disgusting and what sort of man wouldn't want to listen to the high-pitched moans of a girl getting properly fucked?

Now he is 16 and his brother has eagerly dragged him to New York City for the summer because he mentioned that one of his friends who happens to be a girl lives near there when Bro mentioned back in February that he was going to be booking a trip for the full three months of summer vacation to it for work. Originally he was just going to leave Dirk at home which, negligence aside, would have been fine. Only it's been four months now since his brother accidentally found out he was gay and Dirk knows exactly what he wants and expects him to do.

It happens twice. He instigates it the first time, she instigates it the second. He instigates it when she's taken a train up from Rainbow Falls to visit him in person for the first time week into his stay, and it's hot so he's lounging around the hotel room with his shirt off and one of the straps of her plain black tank top slips off her shoulder and he wonders if he could be into that and without warning he kisses her. He instigates it because there is no way he can be gay. Even if he's just bi, that's better, because it means he can like women. It means he can pretend to be normal.

Bro walks in on them before either of them can finish, and he's thankful for it because he's started to feel sick to his stomach and he's just been focusing on how much Roxy is enjoying herself because she's his best friend in the world and at the very least this is making her happy. At the very least she is having a good time.

And then she starts it the second time because they were interrupted the first time, and she slides her cold hands up his wifebeater to warm them up on his chest which is sweaty because it's not nearly as hot as it gets in Texas during the summer but that doesn't mean 87 degrees is cool by any means, and Bro doesn't walk in on them this time so he just squeezes his eyes shut and pretends it's in pleasure and he's ashamed that he doesn't cum until he pictures Jake's face.

Apparently twice is all it takes. He only needs to have sex with a girl two times-- and with the most incredible girl on this fucking planet to boot-- before he knows, without a doubt, that he is gay. He's not bi. He does not like women. Fuck, even actively sleeping with one-- his first time sleeping with anybody for that matter-- he manages to last after she finishes until he pictures one of their mutual friends' face. One of their mutual guy friends. Dirk Strider is gay. Not only that, but he's pretty sure that he has a crush on Jake, which is sort of really inconvenient, because if there's one thing Dirk is fairly certain of it is that Jake English is not gay, and even if he was, he lives way out by New Zealand or something like that, the only one of their tight knit little internet social circle who doesn't live somewhere in the US of A.

He knows he has to tell Roxy. He has to tell her before she tries to sleep with him again, or else before he dives head first into denial and he tries to sleep with her again. But God, he doesn't want to. He almost throws up just telling himself that he's gay.

Luckily, she doesn't try to sleep with him again. He guesses that he must have been bad which, okay, whatever, it was his second time and also why does he care about that anyway? He has much worse things to worry about. Or at the very least, certainly much bigger things to worry about. Like how the hell he's going to tell his best friend in the whole world (and he has friends across the whole world, technically, so he can say that) who he just slept with that actually, he's not really into girls.

She takes a train up to New York City without warning him five days before he is set to go back to Texas when he's in the middle of digging around the room trying to find his stupid fucking shades. He knows it's her because of the way she knocks, all shave-and-a-haircut like anyone else in the world still knocks that way. He only hesitates a minute before answering. It's not like she hasn't seen his eyes before. (After all, it's not like he wore his shades when he was fucking her.)

Guess now is as good a time as any, he thinks as the hotel room door swings open right before he sees her red-rimmed eyes, and he grabs her wrist after only a moment of hesitation and drags her in for a hug. She buries her face in his chest immediately like it belongs there and sobs, and they've never done this before, not in person, but he rests his chin on top of her head because they're only 16 and he's not done growing yet but he's currently about four inches taller than her and when she's all crumpled up into herself it's not that hard to do. "What asshole do I have to beat up?" He jokes after a minute, but he knows there's a tinge of sincerity to it. He certainly will get in a fight for her.

"You," she chokes out after a minute, and that has him stumbling back away from her for the first time since he opened the door.

When she makes eye contact with him, her eyes are watery and he has to tear his eyes away first because he can't look at her like that knowing that somehow, in some way, it's his fault. His immediate instinct is to assume she has somehow found out about his gayness even though he's only known about it for about two months and she's upset that he slept with her despite being gay. "Rox, I--"

"No, please don't apologize. I don't want you to apologize," she says, and she clearly knows that he knows and so when she pushes past him and into the hotel room proper he just closes the door, startled, and turns to follow her. She is sitting on the foot of the bed by the time he gets there, her face buried in her hands until she must feel the mattress shift as he sits next to her, and then she leans over against his shoulder. "I don't want this," she says.

And it stings. It really, seriously hurts to hear that from his best friend. "I don't want this either," he mumbles back, trying not to let his betrayal show in his voice. Because really, he's not lying. If he could change it, if he could make the world better, then he wouldn't be gay. He would be straight and probably in love with her and she wouldn't be crying on this bed right now or if she was it certainly wouldn't be out of sadness or anger or bitterness or anything she shouldn't have to feel.

Somehow, with his words, she is the one to wince as though he has hurt her. As though she was hoping he would reassure her that he did want this and that meant it was going to be okay and she would just get over whatever it is she's going through right now. He can't possibly understand it. He can't possibly understand the way she's hurting. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure there's anything to do," he says, because it's the truth. Conversion therapy is legal but the thought terrifies him, and he doesn't think that he can just sleep with a girl enough times that he grows desensitized to it. Not if it didn't work with Roxy. If she couldn't fix him, he doubts anybody can.

"I mean, do you want to keep it or?"

This confuses him. Keep it? Like it's something he can just get rid of? Give away at a garage sale for a quick buck or flush out of his system by swallowing some pills or... The gears in his head stop turning for a second. His mind freezes, and subsequently his whole body tenses up so harshly she actually pulls away to stare at him. He finally turns to stare back at her with wide eyes. She's... Oh. Oh. She doesn't know. She doesn't know at all. This is about something else. Someone else, although he's not sure if it counts as a person yet. "Fuck, Roxy, you're..."

She stares back with her own brows furrowed for a minute. "What'd you think...?" And he doesn't know what to say to that. Doesn't know how to answer her question. He supposes honesty is the only thing he can answer with in this situation.

"I'm gay," he blurts, and it's not the sort of long speech his analytical mind would usually draft up, windbag that he is. He doesn't overexplain it or try to cushion the news. He just... says it. And it surprisingly doesn't feel that bad. But they're staring at each other and he can see the moment she processes it.

He stares at her with wide eyes and that's when it hits her because he's gay, oh God, he's gay.

"You're..." He thinks he sees all five stages of grief flash across her face in quick succession over the course of two quiet seconds. Sees her shake her head just once, minute, sees her brows pinch together the way they do when she's about to yell, sees her mouth fall open and then closed again like she wants to ask him something, anything at all to clarify their situation because it is truly, wholly unique, sees her entire body slump just a little bit, shrinking in on herself all over again as she processes what this means (that he never really liked her, that their sex wasn't good for him, that in the end it couldn't be good for either of them), and then sees her expression fall neutral again and she's just a blank slate, thinking before she picks up a pen to write her own dialogue. "Guess that means it fucked us both over, huh?"

"No, Roxy, it didn't..." He starts, trying to reassure her, and she tears her eyes up to look at him and the anger is back, her brows pinched together and tears springing to her eyes but he can see without feeling them that they are hot and salty and not sad in the slightest.

"Don't pretend it was good for you, Dirk. Don't you dare try to pretend anything to spare my feelings." His mouth hangs open in surprise for a second before he just snaps it shut and nods dumbly. How else is he supposed to respond? No, he's asking. He has no idea. And then all the fire in her seems to die and she sags a bit, clutching her stomach. The tears are still streaming down her cheeks. "I don't want to do this by myself..."

He wants to tell her that she won't have to. He wants to tell her that he'll support her. That he'll help. But he's 16. He's 16 and he lives in another fucking state. They're both still in highschool. Most of their friends live nowhere near them. He doesn't know about her, but he certainly doesn't have friends at school. He thinks he might try to befriend that one gay kid from the locker room just so he has somebody to talk to about... all of this, but that's so insignificant right now because his best friend is suffering and he can't do anything to fix it for her. "I know," he says instead, because there's nothing else he can say.

She sobs and lifts one of her hands to wipe angrily at her tears. "I don't want to get rid of it," she says after another minute, and his heart stutters in his chest that that was ever an option. Because he doesn't want her to get rid of it either. Its existence terrifies him, but he can't stand the thought of her scheduling an appointment and some doctor ripping it out of her. It's not a life, not yet, but some day it could be, and God, they're young, they're so young, but he wants that. He's being horribly selfish but she agrees so really, aren't they both?

"Okay." He breathes, not voicing any of his thoughts. "...Okay. So you won't get rid of it."

They only did it twice. Just two times. He only managed to finish the once, picturing someone else's face even as it was her on top of him. Apparently twice is all it takes.

#Darla writes #Homestuck #DirkRoxy #Dirk Strider #Roxy Lalonde #POV Third Person #Angst #Gay Male Character #Homophobic Language #TW: Homophobic Language #Internalized Homophobia #TW: Internalized Homophobia #Teen Pregnancy #TW: Teen Pregnancy

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pattson · 7 years

Text

Arrow

Hello! This is a fic for the wonderful @milomeepit , who requested some angsty Logicality. Thank you so much, this was so fun to write! Also: Message me if you want to be added to the taglist! Trigger warnings here.

on Ao3

The air was thick. The yellowing of Patton’s room was nauseating. Logan’s neck was tense, his stomach was churning, and he could feel himself sweating.

“Logan, you aren’t listening!” Patton’s face was a deep red. His eyes were narrowed. His face was hot.

“I always listen, Patton. Have you ever considered how exhausting that might be? Listening to you, all day, constantly? I can barely breathe without you telling me you love me!” Logan said. His coffee had long grown cold, and the blue and black mug was shaking in his hand. Patton was leaning towards him, his chest forward, fists clenched at his side.

“You think the problem is love? No, Logan, it’s that you don’t help! You never help with the dishes, I’ve never seen you cook even once. You leave my room a mess and scream at me for dropping so much as a crumb in yours. You always get food for yourself and you never help the other sides. When it comes down to it, the real problem is that you only put yourself first!”

“Myself? Me? Patton, if you had any idea how much I’ve had to sacrifice for this to work--”

“Oh, don’t talk to me about sacrifice,” Patton said. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, his bangs falling into his face. “All the things I do for you, all the things I do for everyone. I try so hard! And do I let it show? No! Because I’m Patton, aren’t I? Just your happy, pappy Patton. Who needs worry? Not Patton! Who needs sadness? Not Patton!” His eyes were growing wide, his teeth were clenched. To an outsider, he’d look absolutely insane. Honestly, Patton was beginning to think he was.

“Patton, you’re being illogical. If you would allow yourself to think, for one moment in your life, you’d know that--”

“I do think, Logan!”

“Falsehood! You don’t think outside of your tiny, infinitesimal realm of fairy tales and make-believe. If you understood what I’m going through, if you felt even a slice of the turmoil--”

“What makes you think I’m not struggling, huh? What makes you think I’m not hurting?”

“I’VE NEVER LOVED YOU!”

Logan’s scream echoed through the room. A loud shattering was heard, and Patton flinched. He opened his eyes to see the broken coffee mug, shards of the sine and parabolic functions that once outlined the ceramic.

The mug was shattered.

So was Patton.

It only took him a moment to relieve everything. Back, almost a year ago, to the start of this. Of all of this.

Patton was holding a puppy. A puppy. A puppy! The cat sweatshirt was draped over his shoulders, the soft cotton nuzzling against his skin. But strangely enough, that wasn’t the thing that was really making him so excited.

After all the hardships of the day, Logan had been there. It was true, he left them, but he came back. He always did. Even if he was boasting about always being right, he came back with an apology and a present. He was Logan. He was always there.

You know, he’d really had a funny-heart thing around Logan for a while now. Gosh, how could he not? Logan was beautiful. He was composed, arranged, all but perfect. Yeah, he had his flaws, but the way he moved, the way he thought. It was magical.

Roman popped into the commons, looking at Patton with a humorous eye. “Still enjoying those dogs, Pat?”

“Yeah,” Patton said. There was a certain floaty tone to his voice. Roman’s eyebrow quirked at that.

“Hmm. It seems to me like you’re enjoying more than the dogs, huh?” He said. Patton just gave a giggle in response. “Does this have to do with the fact that Logan gave you that hoodie?”

“Maaaaaybe,” Patton said, a smile taking over his face.

“Oh. My gosh. That’s adorable. That’s so adorable. Seriously? I want to be the best man at your wedding. I already know what color tux Logan will be wearing. I was thinking a deep brown tie, to go with the eyes, and maybe a purple undershirt--” Roman started. He was interrupted, his eyes falling on Virgil.

Virgil had sunk in just then, a bag of popcorn and an empty water glass in his hands. “Oh. Hey guys. What’s going on?”

“I’m just planning Logan and Patton’s wedding, that’s all,” Roman said, dreamily. His eyes were glazed over in that way that he only gets when he’s completely zoned out, making some creatively elaborate scheme to get things exactly the way he wanted.

“Very funny,” Virgil said. He walked by the sink, turning on the tap. The water glass slowly filled up.

“I’m not joking,” Roman said. Virgil looked up.

“Yes you are.”

“I’m not,” Roman said. Virgil’s eyes went to Patton. Patton, who was sitting there completely dazed, the look in his eyes the exact same one in Roman’s. Virgil’s cup began to overflow. He faintly felt the water running over his hand, but he wasn’t paying attention.

“No. No, you’re not. Leave Logan alone. He’s going through some stuff, I don’t think--”

“No, surely! When I’m upset, the one thing I need is a little loving to go around. Why wouldn’t Logan be the same way?” Roman said. “Besides, look at little Patton! He’d love that. Wouldn’t you, Patton?”

“Yeah,” Patton said, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah.”

“You’re just being a Debbie Downer, Virgil. You’ll see. Patton, you’re gonna ask Logan out. And I’m gonna help you,” Roman said. He pulled an arm around Patton, staring off into the distance again. Virgil looked between them. Roman was speaking as if he was taking on a challenge instead of trying to understand a person. This was bad. This was going to be very, very bad.

“Roman, I don’t know if this is a good idea…” It was like neither Patton nor Roman could hear him. Virgil took a deep breath, finally turning off the tap.

After planning for what felt like forever, he was finally going to do it. He was finally going to ask Logan out. It was perfect. He’d been by himself all day, working on some schedule or plan for Thomas. While Logan was gone, Patton, Roman, and Virgil got to work.

There was streamers hanging from the ceiling-- blue, black, and a pale grey, to symbolize the both of them. A vase of blue roses sat on the top of the table. Patton gave those a second look over, turning to Roman. “What did you say the meaning of blue roses was, again?”

“I don't know, I don’t speak horticulture. Why don’t you ask Logan once he becomes your boyfriend? That’s more his area of expertise,” Roman said. He was adding finishing touches to the streamers, too busy to look down at Patton. “I just bought blue because, you know, Logan.”

Virgil was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, looking over the whole setting with disapproval. Blue roses. Unrequited love, caution, and the unattainable. Sounds like a recipe for disaster.

“Are you sure he’ll like the cake? I’m not even sure if he’s a vanilla or chocolate person. What if he picks the wrong one because it’s a different flavor? I mean, of course, everyone likes chocolate, but he strikes me as a vanilla person. Is that okay? Is vanilla good?” Patton said. He was worrying. He had straightened the flowers at least ten times already.

Roman hopped off the chair he’d stood on to fix the streamers, looking over the room with a smile on his face. Yes, this was his best decoration attempt so far. He’d done something so similar on Virgil’s birthday, just a lot more emo with some Nightmare Before Christmas undertones. He’d absolutely loved it. So much that he’d cried!

(That wasn’t why he’d cried.)

“Wait, ssh! Turn the lights off, he’s coming!” Roman said. Virgil slid the lights off, sinking down. He couldn’t watch this.

Logan was dead tired. He’d spent all night trying to figure out to schedule. It was Roman’s fault, really. He wanted to do everything. And Patton, too. He was so unwilling to stop helping someone. This entire month was nonstop, between filming for new videos, new skits, new friends to keep up with and new goals to hopefully reach. Everything was a whirlwind and Logan didn't think he could take it. He rubbed a hand to his temple, taking off his glasses. When he looked up, he noticed something was off.

Specifically, the lights. The lights were off.

“What?” He murmured to himself, glancing towards the ceiling. Was Thomas asleep? It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Logan knew Sleep was kind of a drama hound, but at least he usually left the lights on in the commons. Was something wrong?

Logan walked into the dining room, looking for the source of the blackout. Perhaps there was a storm, Florida was known for that. Wow, Logan was too tired to deal with this right now. Perhaps he should corral the other sides, if there really was an emergency than he’d need to--

“Surprise!”

Logan jumped back, immediately thrown from his thoughts. The lights flicked back on, and Logan could’ve sworn he’d heard Princey’s laughter over his shoulder. “Patton. What are you doing here? Why were the lights off?”

Patton gestured to a set of two cupcakes with a smile on his face. Logan leaned in closer, noticing writing on the two.

“Well! Sit down!” Patton said. Logan did as instructed, sitting in front of the cupcakes. One of them had chocolate icing, and the word “NO” was written in all capital letters and red piping. The other was completely covered in rainbow sprinkles and vanilla icing, and had a swoopy, pink “Yes” written in what looked like Roman’s handwriting.

“Patton, you are aware it is not my birthday,” Logan said. Patton playfully rolled his eyes.

“Of course I’m aware, Logie!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I actually wanted you here to ask you something,” Patton said. It was only then that Logan noticed the streamers, the vase of blue roses.

Blue roses. Unrequited love. Uh oh. Logan’s stomach sank.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. You’re very special to me, Logan. And, I know, everyone’s special to me, but you stand out in a different way. You’re beautiful. Everything that you can think, the way you see situations, the way you work yourself to the bone and carry those little note cards… It’s adorable. You’re adorable! And from the conversations we’ve had, I think… I’m letting myself think that you feel the same way about me. And so, Logan Sanders,” Patton said, his heart beating a million miles a minute, “Will you go on a date with me?”

Logan looked back down at the cupcakes. Patton was sitting there, barely able to breathe. This was it. This was the second he’d been waiting for. Either Logan would pick yes and they’d branch out on a wonderful, respectful, beautiful relationship where they’d never ever fight (surely!) or he’d pick no. Patton didn’t know what he’d do if Logan picked no.

Patton studied his face, wondering what on earth could be going through that magnificent mind of his. He was staring. Patton’s heart rate sped up. Uh-oh. He was staring for a long time. Completely blank faced. His eyes were scanning the two cupcakes, looking between them. Patton thought he could just die, right there and then.

Until Logan slowly, ever so slowly, reached down. He picked up the vanilla “Yes” cupcake, taking a very small bite.

“Yes!” Patton shouted. He jumped from his seat, pulling Logan into a hug. Logan dropped the cupcake, eyes wide.

Logan left the room a short while later, his face still completely blank. He noticed Virgil sink in out of the corner of his eye. Logan made it his mission to avoid him.

“Logan. Did you just do what I think you just did?” Virgil said. Logan wiped at the corners of his mouth, making sure there wasn’t any stray vanilla icing.

“Perhaps,” Logan said.

“Logan. We talked about this.”

“I refuse to make Patton unhappy. He already deals with enough based on Thomas’s own emotion, as well as the struggles he puts himself through. He needs a break, and I am happy to give myself to that.”

“No, Logan. What you’re giving him is someone who can’t feel like he feels. We talked about this. You know, I’ve never seen you cry before, but when you came to me, and I showed you that word, and you felt like you finally fit in… Logan. You’re ar-”

“That’s enough,” Logan said. He brushed past Virgil, his jaw tight. “I am a grown man, Virgil. I am capable of making my own decisions.” With that, he walked up the stairs towards his room, not even giving Virgil a second glance. Virgil slowly rubbed a hand over his forehead. This was going to be complicated.

Surely enough, it was already growing complicated.

“Do you think he’s avoiding me? I mean, it’s kind of weird, after I asked him out he’s just been completely buried in his room all of the time,” Patton said. Roman laughed.

“Patton! You’re forgetting who you’re dealing with. Logan’s always in his room. He loves to work, and he does nothing but work sometimes. That’s why it’s so good that he’s with you! You’ll help him out of his comfort zone. And you know what?” Roman said. “You should plan that date for tonight. I’m sure he could use a breather.”

Virgil eyed them from the sofa. It wasn’t his spot to intervene, and yet…

“Ooh! I know! Makeover time!” Roman said. “Follow me, I have the perfect suit…”

Patton showed up to Logan’s door about a half hour later. True to Roman’s word, he did have the perfect suit, and it was almost tailored to fit him. It was a simple black, with a navy blue tie he might have stolen from Logan’s collection. Patton didn’t want to ask.

His fist hovered over the door. He was so nervous, for some reason. He had to keep reminding himself that this was actually Logan who he was dealing with. He’d known Logan for all of his life. He couldn’t pinpoint the time where his feelings towards him changed. It was like he was hit by Cupid’s arrow, and yet he couldn’t imagine a life without Logan in it.

Patton finally gathered up the courage, opting to just swing open Logan’s door instead. He spotted Logan, curled over his laptop, with green, grey, and yellow on the screen. Some flag, maybe? Either way, he’d certainly caught Logan off guard. He slammed his laptop shut, quickly, turning to face Patton. Immediately he knew Logan was exhausted. Just from one look at him he could tell. He had dark circles under his eyes, his glasses were slightly tilted, and it just looked like he hadn’t had proper sleep in forever. His tie was missing.

Patton found it immensely endearing.

“Oh, Logan! When was the last time you had sleep? We need to have another Disney marathon. Just you and me, curled into the couch. But not tonight! I was actually wondering,” Patton said. He took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner. With me.”

Logan did not even hesitate. “Oh, yes. Would the others be in attendance?” He said. Patton gave him a quiet look, tilting his head.

“Lo. Sweetie. It’s a date!” Patton said with a smile. He watched Logan closely. He was pulling the same face he was when Patton had asked him out the first time. He was dazed, and his eyes were glazed over, staring at one spot on the floor. Maybe this was how Logan showed his emotions. Patton always knew they were different! And yet--

Logan stood up abruptly, shaking Patton from his thoughts. “Let me find my tie,” he said. His face was still zoned out. Patton gave him a small smile, leaving the room.

Huh. Something didn’t feel right.

Logan emerged from his room wearing his typical polo, tie, and dark wash jeans. Patton was thinking something a little fancier, but he knew better than to say that. Gosh, he was so excited! It would just be him and Logan, a candlelit dinner in a fancy restaurant. He couldn’t wait.

He walked with Logan down the stairs, a grin stretching over his face. Roman was standing in his corner, watching them with an equal grin.

“You two are so adorable! I feel as a mother does, sending her children off to their senior prom. Oh, wait, should we take pictures?”

Logan’s face was completely passive. He once again noticed Virgil from his peripherals, watching him from the shadows. He turned his head back to Roman, wiping the thought from his mind. This was for Patton.

Overall, the date was kind of fun. They had flutes of champagne, and Patton had allowed Logan to go on a tangent about the history and origin of the particular type they drank. They talked about everything, disagreed about some things, and agreed over others. To Logan, it felt as if he was simply spending time with Patton, not a date of any sort. Or, perhaps, was this how all dates went? Logan wouldn’t know.

He did try to kiss Patton at the door in front of his bedroom. That was what was supposed to be done, yes? And yet. His lips felt like gravel and he thought, momentarily, that he was going to vomit. It did not matter. This was for Patton.

This sort of thing became more frequent. After the first date, there was a second. A third. Before Logan knew it, they had been dating for months.

Every time they were together, Roman would gush and squeal and talk about how they were going to get married one day. The thought made Logan slightly nauseous. He kept seeing Virgil from the corner of his eye, and that made him even more nauseous yet. He trusted Virgil with that information, and while he understood that Virgil would not spread it, he knew that he would never let him live it down.

One particular date stood out from the rest. Patton had proposed that they attend some trampoline park (of course Patton had asked him on a date, Logan hadn’t planned a single date to this day.) Everything was a bright orange and contrasting deep blue, and the ground between the trampolines was a soft, squishy mat. Patton was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Is something wrong?” Logan said, sticking his admission sticker onto his shirt. The worker had asked that he remove his tie, and he felt strange without it.

“I’m just nervous, that’s all. Are we sure these will support us?” Patton had his cat cardigan pulled over his blue polo, the tiny folds of the collar sticking over the hoodie.

“Of course,” Logan said. He took Patton by the hand, dragging him towards the nearest trampolines. He pulled him onto the square across from him, still holding him by his hand. “The springs follow three simple rules-- most know them as Newton’s Laws. It also details the conservation of energy, using the formula of one half mass times volume squared. So if you jump up,” Logan said, letting go of Patton’s hand to jump, “you always come back down. And the trampoline will surely catch you.”

Patton was looking at him with the stars in his eyes. He paused for a second, opening and closing his mouth. “I… Logan. I love you.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Patton noticed Logan’s face zone out, the same way he did when he first asked him out, when they had their first kiss. Maybe this was just how he showed that he loved Patton back! Surely!

“I love you, too,” Logan said. His tone was low, his eyes were downcast. The words felt like styrofoam on his tongue.

That’s where it all started going downhill.

After that date, everything was different. Patton would hover around Logan constantly, always telling him he loved him at every available moment. Logan said it back, every time, but each time he said it it hurt him more.

Patton was making food in the kitchen. Logan was sitting on the couch. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Patton asked him to pass the remote. Logan obliged. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Patton so much as left the room. Logan stayed behind. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” It never ended. It never ended, did it?

Patton wasn’t quite sure what was wrong, but it was clear that something was bothering Logan. He became less infatuated with his work, as he usually was, and started doing things like watching a ton of TV. He’d even stopped reading as much, which was an odd sight. But the worst part? He was becoming kind of bristly towards Patton.

True, Logan always rolled his eyes at Patton’s puns, but it was suddenly like Logan rolled his eyes at everything Patton did. Every question he answered gruffly and bluntly, and it was confusing. Patton didn’t like it.

That’s when the little things that Logan always did started to grow on Patton’s nerves. He always left the dishes in the sink. He never once bothered to wash them. And, like. Who did he think did that? Would they just magically disappear? To make things worse, it kind of felt like he was getting the cold shoulder. He was frustrated with him not helping out, but…

Being Patton, he wouldn’t say anything.

“Thomas! Buddy, what’s up with you?” Thomas looked up from the show he was watching, looking over to see Joan on the other end of the couch.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just not following your schedule, like, at all. How many breaks have you took today?”

“Um. Six? I think? No, wait, this is number seven.”

“You’re not acting like yourself. Your logic’s faulty. Where’s Logan, is he okay up there?” Joan said with a chuckle. “I’m just pulling your leg. You know I love those fictional guys with all my heart.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, forcing a similar laugh. “Fictional.”

If it was even affecting Thomas, you know it was bad. Virgil was nowhere to be seen, spending hours upon hours in his room. Roman was on the complete opposite of that, nervously ticking and complaining about nothing getting done. Even Patton noticed himself making some snide remarks. Logan, being Logan, didn’t get the sarcasm and figurative language. You’d think, being Logic, he’d understand.

Patton walked into own his room one day amidst all that was going on. Logan was sitting on his bed, a mug of coffee in his hand. Just from one look at him he could tell he was exhausted. He had dark circles under his eyes, his glasses were slightly tilted, and it just looked like he hadn’t had proper sleep in forever. His tie was missing.

“Really, Logan? Again?” Patton said. This was the third time this week. He stayed up late, only slept in Patton’s bed half the time, and was strangely missing at odd hours. It was driving him crazy.

“If you had issue with my escapes, I would figure you would have told me by now,” Logan said. He took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes zoned out.

“Told you? Logan, I’ve done everything short of saying that word for word. Do you really have that much trouble with language cues?”

“Don’t ask me questions before I finish my coffee,” Logan said. Patton scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, so don’t ask you questions ever. What is up with you lately? You’re being weird.”

“Oh, what? Are you just going to proceed to tell me you love me twenty-seven times in a row? Don’t speak to me of weird. It’s absurd, Patton. You’re being absurd,” Logan said. He moved to stand up, still groggy from the morning.

“I’m being absurd? Excuse me?” Patton said. His voice was rising.

“You’re nothing but absurd! All you ever do is purely logicless, going with every whim in your heart. You’re beginning to affect Thomas.”

“No,” Patton said. “No no no. You’re the one affecting him. You heard Joan. And they’re always right. Beanie of truth, remember?”

“Wow, bringing up another joke in the middle of a serious conversation. Can’t say I’m surprised,” Logan said. Patton made a small noise of offense, his hands curling into fists.

“Logan, you aren’t listening!”

That’s when events unfolded to where they were now. The broken mug. Patton’s broken heart.

Logan didn’t love him.

“Oh-- Patton. Patton, I’m so sorry,” Logan said, but by then it was too late. Patton felt himself begin to cry, hot streams falling down his cheeks.

“Do you mean that?” He choked out. It was like he, suddenly, could barely breathe.

“I… I didn't want you to find out like this,” Logan said. Another sob fell from Patton’s lips. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He really hadn’t loved him this whole time? And yet… Patton had poured so much of himself into this. In part of his own heart and Roman’s fantasies, he’d actually allowed himself to think they had a future. He could almost picture Logan standing at the altar, but now? It was gone. It was all gone.

“I’m so sorry,” Logan said. He opened his arms, and invitation that could easily be refused. Patton fell forward, letting himself collapse in Logan’s arms. “I’m so sorry Patton. It wasn’t fair for me to do that to you. I… I want to be your friend, Pat.” He rocked Patton in his arms, let him bury his head into his chest. He could feel his tears. “If I’m honest with myself, I think that’s all we should have been in the first place. You mean the world to me, you really do, and I couldn’t bear to part with you. But love? I… I’m so sorry, Patton, but I don’t think I can.”

Patton looked up. There was confusion in his eyes. There was hurt. But if Logan looked close enough, he could see a semblance of acceptance.

One word sat silently on Logan’s tongue.

It went unspoken.

Aro.

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tommyoboe · 3 years

Text

PARIS - PART TWO.

What's that, stress isn't as high as it was before? Ooh, what is this?

Yeah, things have got easier here in the chaotic French capital. It is reassuring that the only stresses are ensuring the person you live with uses the right bins for their waste; speaking in French to a clothes store assistant, and shouting at constantly buffering Wifi whilst trying to watch the RNCM's excellent University Challenge performance back home.

Other inconveniences included a first French lesson where the tutor turned up for a grand total of ten out of a possible ninety minutes of tuition and being promised certain things for no money and having to pay money. Seems to be a bit of a theme here in France.

Deception.

Now, I think that's the rant over. I'll let you know if I think of anything else. Honestly, venting is healthy.

In grander news, I had my first two oboe lessons at the Conservatoire. Full of inspiration they were, willing me to think about commitment to music and expressing everything I desire. I also spent a grey Wednesday afternoon going through my real ambitions for the future (I started typing 'future' and it autocorrected to the 'FU' emoji, I don't know if that's a sign or...), and although most revolved around living in a cute house and going for pastries in Berlin with Cameron, I made the link between this and focussing my oboe playing on getting into orchestras and material that will help me achieve this. It's difficult with long-term ambitions, as they evolve, but to have more ideas than I did before is refreshing.

One of my aims for the last month was to be practising 3 hours a day and making reeds 1 and a half to 2 hours a day everyday. However, in recent days I have more and more realised the importance of keeping stress at bay, as well as good sleep and lifestyle to fuel excellent practice habits. 3 hours may not be a regular achievement right now, but a healthy and happy way of living, including mostly excellent practice, is. So that's nice.

Niceties in the last couple of weeks have included video calling family and Cameron, which has been delightful. It was deeply difficult not being with my boy for his birthday, but with his visit to Paris on the way, I am going to do all I can to provide some extended celebrations.

I have also visited some of Paris' most interesting neighbourhoods. A stroll through the Buttes-Chaumont Park made up one Tuesday afternoon. Last Saturday it was time for Rue Montorgueil, hailed as the best street in Paris by many for its melting pot of traditional French offerings and new innovations. This included Paris' best doughnut at Boneshaker Doughnuts, which, I can see why it has that unofficial title. The balance of lightness and flavour was something truly unrivalled. There is no doubt I will be making a return.

There was also the iconic Tuilleries Garden, full of majestic statues and a vivid rainbow of pristine flowers and greenery. Magnificent.

Being followed by patisserie at Bo & Mie, it was a good day.

Yesterday it was the turn of the 3rd arrondissement, full of adorable cobbled streets, edgy cafés and a divine apple tart from Poilâne Bakery. Simple things done well, what a great thing.

And to top it off, there was a SUCCULENT SHOP. I couldn't bring myself to go in, but I am almost certain I will be in the near future. Also, the plant in my room left by my host is looking a bit worse for wear, so it may have to be out with the old and in with the new!

I met up with some other exchange students to go to a lovely vibraphone/guitar jazz concert on Friday evening. It was nice just to let go; let passing thoughts come and go from my mind; let the music conjure up peaceful emotions, and let myself be inspired. Afterwards we attempted to go to a bar for drinks, and for some reason that didn't really work out so having lost everyone else, one of the students and I took three trams home and that was the end of that.

Yesterday I finally received my box of belongings from my mum, via her friend who lives just outside of Paris. She was lovely enough to come all the way to my apartment and drop it off. Of course, a cup of tea and some macaroons were awaiting as a huge thank you for all the help she has offered before and during this trip.

And today I have been a hermit, confining myself to the apartment while the rain has poured and poured. Mind you, it has brightened up now, just in time for the sunset, but I have got through two whole operas, this blog post and video calling my mum, so good job me.

Now it's time to make myself some terrific tea and get ready for Strictly. Oh yes, it's back.

Have a good evening, everyone.

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fromnowwon · 4 years

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I think we can all agree this year is extreme and hard and feels like most things are not going according to plan. And yet, I feel confident this is the exact right time for our family to be growing. We're all very excited (especially Jett) to be welcoming a baby boy in a few months. When babies come and when they go from our lives isn't part of the story we get to choose, so all I know to do is lean in to the timing, even into the timing of a 2020 baby. Sometimes you want them to come and they don't, sometimes you don't want them to and they do and other times you have to lose them somewhere in the middle of both. Little whispered promises of hope have been following me this year and are now manifesting in this rainbow baby I get the honour of growing. It's been a tricky experience so far starting with being locked down with a toddler, construction noise and some intense first trimester sickness. It felt capital D "Disaster" most days honestly. But we got through. And now the juxtoposition of the unknowns of the world and the knowns of having a new baby are hard to navigate and plan for simultaneousl. Being physically cut off from family and feeling more and more Australian feels really tricky and complicated and confusing too. However, I'm so thankful for this beautiful news I get to tend to and anchor the slow never-ending winter weeks around, and more thankful than ever for our circle of community we have in Sydney. Progress is unbearably slow in 2020, but watching my belly grow and feeling his kicks get stronger is sweet proof that life is still changing, still moving forward, isn't going to be this way forever. And I have a feeling we all better watch out: there's a wave of babies coming that are going to have some wildly strong spirits to be born in spite of all these crazy circumstances. Just to keep it really 2020 tho, baby is set to arrive Christmas Day. (And if he comes a week late like Jett did, we always have New Years day as a backup fancy zeitgeisty birthday option.) Here's to life. Wacky, wild life. https://www.instagram.com/p/CEazsY6jl7g22UpZPyz8gloRPrkaBckwtdzYvA0/?igshid=at39y7pt2tjy

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geneshaven · 7 years

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Truth Be Told

Because Olicity is my jam, most of this is going to be about them. I don’t know about anybody else, but last night’s episode felt like a season finale to me. it gave me everything I wanted to see---Olicity in survival mode, a big pot of truth tea, married-like banter during adversity, love, pain, teamwork, hope; and oh yeah, sex.

I liked the premise of them being trapped together and not having any doors to walk out of when the shit started getting real. Well, Felicity wasn’t going to walk anywhere, but I get the metaphor. Felicity repeated to Oliver at the end of 519 that he still doesn’t trust her. Then the power went out, and in the darkness, both of them had a front row seat to the dynamics of what it is to trust someone. It wasn’t about matters of the heart (not at first.) It was about working together as a team. There has never been an issue for them on that score; going back five years, it is an ingrained instinct to have each other’s backs. In a way, Chase’s evil plan to trap them alone together ended up being the catalyst to opening up their hearts to one another. All I could think of was Felicity telling Oliver at the end of season three---‘don’t fight to die, fight to live.’

I also love that Oliver’s first reaction at the beginning of the episode was to call for Felicity. He could have had severed limbs or internal bleeding or any number of significant injuries. But Felicity’s well-being and her safety was his first thought when he came to. It gave me some serious feels---for personal reasons. There was a part of me that wanted to see Oliver pick her up and gently put her in the wheelchair, (again for personal reasons.)

As the episode went on, I thoroughly enjoyed them starting to take care of one another again. Felicity patching up Oliver played for me like the end of a drought. I can think of a couple of times during the season when she wanted to tend to his wounds and had to stop herself from touching him. The lead up to their flashback Bunker sex brought clarity as to why she kept her distance from him in that way. But the instinct to take care of him was still there. It will always be there.

And speaking of the Bunker sex. I kept hearing R.E.M.’s Shiny Happy People playing in the background of my enthusiastic mind. I love that they used Chinese food and wine and the salmon ladder to kick things off. So this sex happened just a month after the ‘you thought I was leaving too, not a chance’ exchange. Apparently, a lot of flirting was going on. And Curtis was instigating a lot of It. Who would have thunk? Okay, so they were drunk, and perhaps Felicity forgot that he lied to her and forfeited their chance for a happily ever after. Oliver talked her into trying the salmon ladder. After telling her she couldn’t do a chin-up, she was game and gave it a shot. I love that Oliver stood behind her admiring the view while she dangled from the bar. It was a valiant effort, but not to be. She asked him to help her down. It was very sensitive and erotic. He hadn’t put his hands on her like that for months; the same with Felicity bracing herself on his shoulders as he lowered her down. There was a soft glance and they were inches apart. Oliver reminded her that she had a little bit to drink. Felicity countermanded that she had a lot to drink. Then, as if she were diving into a shaft of rainbow colors, she came at him with everything in her. I’m guessing it was something she had fantasied about since the breakup.

Fireworks!

The urgency of their intimacy was---well, it was breathtaking. She pulling his shirt off, him spinning her around to help remove hers---sublime. I kept thinking of ordering some Chinese food during the whole sequence. I also thought how fun it would have been if Oliver hoisted himself back up on the salmon ladder with Felicity’s legs wrapped around him. Now that would be some flourish. But the mat worked out fine.

Okay, enough. I’m not a smut writer. It was erotic, exciting and beautiful. But then, during their post-coital snuggling, Felicity remembered why she left him and reminded Oliver as well. Cue the bucket of cold water. She did tell Oliver she still loved him. I could have sworn he shot a quick glance at the salmon ladder when she told him. So Felicity solidified her wall and went out to find someone who appreciated her. And then Season 5 officially started , ambiguity and all.

Shiny Happy People, a great big sigh.

Oliver’s confession to Felicity about what he thinks Chase showed him was powerful. Telling her about his ‘enjoyment of killing’ was his biggest fear, not because he was afraid Chase was right, but because Felicity would agree and turn away from him forever. What I saw in that tear rolling down his face was ten years of pain and suffering and not deserving anything soft or peaceful or tender in his life. It was him not being deserving and worth of Felicity.

Felicity saw it too. She told him she wouldn’t have fallen in love with him and wanted to get married if she thought he was a monster. And perhaps with those words, Felicity might have unlocked the door that she closed between them and started to push it open. She knows she loves him. I think the real question is---does she love him enough?

In the hospital scene at the end, she said that he should try to find the man that he is. I’m sorry, and I might piss off some people here, but if you love someone as deeply as she says she does Oliver, wouldn’t the good qualities and the bad ones be part of that package? It is not okay to be flawed and imperfect, to have doubts and misunderstandings? Can he not make mistakes or bad choices? It works both ways. It’s not a gender issue, a he-said, she-said issue. It’s not about right or wrong. What it is about---and they both agreed in 410, is for better and for worse. Sure, he might lie to her again, or she could go dark again and join another evil organization; it’s a life filled with maybe’s, should of’s, and could of’s.

Man, this show drives me nuts sometimes.

And what about Felicity basically letting Oliver off the hook? Is it another example from her on wanting to take on his burdens? Was Felicity telling Oliver it was okay he lied to her? Don’t’ worry honey; you’ve got enough on your plate. I call bullshit. Oliver does need to take responsibility for his actions, especially when those actions hurt the love of his life. It kind of seemed out of character (and a bit rushed) that she would get why he lied to her about William. If these two are really closing the distance between each other, then Oliver needs to own his part, and not just assume that Chase’s mindfuck gives Oliver a get out of jail free card.

There is always going to be something messy happening in any relationship. Nobody’s perfect (Felicity, circa 420.) What makes it work is knowing it, believing it and not repeating the same mistakes. Insanity is sure to ensue. Trusting each other, good or bad, is the cornerstone to a long, happy life together. It’s what keeps the momentum moving forward.

One more thing that struck me about 520---the elevator shaft scene and OTA. The allegory of them working together as a team was just beautiful. John on one end of the chain, Felicity on the other, and Oliver in the middle making sure the links stay strong and don’t break. It was the summation of OTA and why those three letters need to be capitalized. Great stuff.

Like I said at the start of this---it felt like it could have been a season ending episode. There are still three left! There is a mysterious corpse and a birthday party and a huge island explosion coming our way. Maybe even a kidnapping thrown in as well.

But if OTA and Olicity are standing strong with each other through all of it---that is a truth I can believe in.

C’mon, am I the only one who thinks Oliver and Felicity having sex on the salmon ladder would be viewing gold?

@hope-for-olicity @louiseblue1 @tdgal1 @melolicity @memcjo @it-was-a-red-heeler @ruwithmeguys @jamyjan @dmichellewrites

#520

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travelonlinetips-blog · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://travelonlinetips.com/australia-france-bulgaria-berlin-and-italy-lonely-planets-travel-blog/

Australia, France, Bulgaria, Berlin and Italy – Lonely Planet's travel blog

At Lonely Planet we’re simply obsessed with travel; rarely a week goes by when someone hasn’t just got back from an epic adventure. To celebrate our infatuation with exploration, each month Lonely Planet staff will be sharing some of their recent travel stories from the road. Read on for horseback beach escapes, birthday celebrations in Berlin and more…

Horse riding along Rainbow Beach, Queensland

Turbo was having none of it. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my otherwise compliant horse to take the two of us into the ocean as we ambled along the magnificent Rainbow Beach in Queensland. It’s not like I wasn’t having an amazing time already. It would be difficult not to on what is regularly named as one of the world’s most beautiful beaches; a stretch of golden sand that goes on for miles, bordered on one side by dunes and forest, and on the other by the glistening Pacific.

But I’d always wanted to ride a horse on a beach, galloping through the waves, man and horse and the elements combining in an exhilarating, once-in-a-lifetime experience. Turbo clearly had not got the memo, so I had to make do with a gentle stroll along the sand, every now and again trying, unsuccessfully, to coax my clearly ironically named steed to head just a little closer to the water, but still revelling, grin spread across my face, in the stunning surroundings.

Clifton Wilkinson, Destination Editor for Great Britain, Ireland and Iceland. Follow his tweets @Cliff_Wilkinson.

Cycling around idyllic Île de Ré, France

Last September I spent five glorious days in Île de Ré, near La Rochelle on the west coast of France. We stayed in an area called Le-Bois-Plage-en-Ré, a 15-minute cycle from the island’s main hub, Saint-Martin, a quaint, upmarket port town. Cycling wouldn’t normally be my preferred method of transport, but you really need a bike to experience what makes this place special. And with an elaborate network of flat, smooth cycle paths that take you past fields of donkeys, vineyards, oyster farms, beaches and salt flats, it was a pretty dreamy way to get around.

By day, we criss-crossed the island en vélo, stopping for an ice cream at the famous La Martinière in Saint-Martin. Its winding streets are lined with charming white houses, decorated with shuttered windows and climbing plants. You can stop for a dip in the sea when it gets too hot, and have lunch at the many beach restaurants before exploring the rest of the island. By night, dine at La Cible; or if you’re on a tighter budget, pick up a takeaway pizza and beers from one of the roadside vendors, pedal onto the beach and watch the sun set.

Jessica Ryan, Product Editor. Follow her on Instagram @jessimica_ryan.

Soaking tired muscles in Bulgaria’s hot springs

I love mountains and I love thermal hot springs (known as banya in Bulgaria), so I was pretty happy to find both just an hour from the country’s capital, Sofia. After a full day walking around Seven Rila Lakes in Bulgaria’s Rila Mountains, photographing glacial lakes, icy waterfalls and wild alpine flowers, I convinced my travel buddies we should check out the town we had come through the night before. Surely Dolna Banya has a banya, right!?

We rolled up to a public hot springs complex in the early evening, and despite having zero Bulgarian vocabulary at our disposal, the immensely patient staff hired us towels, a locker and pointed out where the hot pools were, as well as the steam room, sauna, and snow fountain – for cooling back down. We relaxed our weary bodies after a long day hiking, watching the sun set and the thermal steam waft through the crisp mountain air while we floated around various indoor and outdoor pools, soaking ourselves in the therapeutic waters.

Tasmin Waby, Destination Editor for Australia and the Pacific. Follow her tweets @TravellingTaz.

Ladies about town in Berlin, Germany

Berlin is famous for its wonderful nightlife, but I experienced the city in a brand new light when I brought my mum on her first trip to Germany. Bernadette had a big birthday in November (60 and sensational), and I wanted to treat her after a tough year. Is there anything better than day drinking in Christmas markets and buying 400 tree decorations? The answer is no.

Mama only deserves the best and that was the Regent Berlin. It’s a hotel I’ve lustfully eyed from afar, but didn’t feel sufficiently fancy or rich enough to stay in. Turns out November Jennifer is both rich (credit card) and fancy (discount designer bag) enough to shimmy through its marble entrance. The staff were a joy and showered my mum with champagne and cake to celebrate her birthday. In fact half of Berlin gave her free cake for the occasion – we basically told everyone we met.

We hit up the joyously festive market in Gendarmenmarkt, fangirled the Berlin Symphony Orchestra in the Konzerthaus, and generally ate and drank our way around the city in grand style. Berlin is a great option for intergenerational travel: loads of chilled bars and restaurants, and all the major sights are in an easily navigable area. Next time we’re hitting up Berghain – the city’s most exclusive nightclub!

Jennifer Carey, Managing Destination Editor. Follow her tweets @JenniferCarey01.

Driving a classic car through Lombardy, Italy

As a massive fan of the nostalgic character and many peculiarities of classic cars, the idea of taking one on a tour through Italy had long sat at the peak of my bucket list. And so, with a little help from a friend of a friend of a friend, I found myself clambering behind the timber-rimmed steering wheel of a beautiful old British convertible, a 1955 AC Ace, in Brescia.

We chugged out at dawn from the dusty courtyard of the Mille Miglia Museum. The Mille Miglia was once known as the world’s most dangerous road race, originally running from 1927-57 on a 1000-mile loop from Brescia to Rome and back. My co-driver Paolo and I were taking the AC on an event called the Coppa Franco Mazzotti, which retraces the first 200 miles of the Mille Miglia through Lombardy.

Over the next couple of days we wound between graffiti-spattered suburbs and sprawling medieval fortresses; through the vineyards of the little-visited Franciacorta region and selfie-stick-wielding hordes in the spa town of Sirmione by Lake Garda. We also soaked up some of the happiest of rural Italian clichés: roving packs of nuns; farmers harvesting olives; and grandparents with their grandkids, leaning from terracotta-coloured roadside houses – all cheering our cartoonish convoy as we came barrelling on through.

Peter Grunert, Group Editor, Magazines. Follow his tweets @peter_grunert.

Peter Grunert travelled with support from Scuderia Classiche. Lonely Planet contributors do not accept freebies in exchange for positive coverage.

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sassystimming · 7 years

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my current best pride memory? being in D.C., standing outside the capital building, when they announced that it was illegal to refuse gay marriage. i vividly remember dropping to my knees in joy, and this was before i was even sure about being pan/liking girls. i still have a picture of me holding a giant rainbow flag in front of the capital building with a huge smile on my face, and celebrate June 26 like it's a national holiday every year :')

That’s awesome! I remember being next to my best friend at the time who is agender and attracted to mostly females, and it was their birthday… The day gay marriage was legalized was my (at the time) lesbian best friend's birthday. It was great.

#not stim, #text post #pride month

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theyearofdiamonddogs · 7 years

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Tales of Insomnia

Chapter 1 Has passed five years since I leave the crown city, not by a volunteer will, so just something I got to do. Obviously, for two kids who has grown together, warden't something easy to understand, and it became harder cause the decision where taken from the day to night, but my father says where the best for me leaving the town with my granny, he just decide breaking my life where the best for me. No, it wasn't my choice start again in a small town with no one to known, leave my school, said my friends and live him. Wasn't in my mind to broke more promises than I broke till now, is my 16rt birthday, and I'm going back to capital, to became a part of the laives, and keep the promise to my king, embrace my own heritage as a daughter of a Cronsward Marshall, with the help of my father or without it. Is my choice and my promise who must to keep. The weather is fine, the road is long and the warm wind of the desert is lulled me in to a doze... ------------------- (Dream) Time ago. Clarus where training with Cor, he will be his successor as a General on cronsward one time he will became a "hand of the king", in a few months. The wood swords crashes one in to other and the young Cor slams in to the floor, he grunted. -Damn Clarus, it suppose we gonna just training...- he cuts his word when the giggles of a two young kids from 6 and 7 years old, interrupt in the hall. One of them a boy, taller and big from his age, brown and grisp short and pointy hair, dresses with a hoddie, short pants and sneakers, who was holding the hand of a small dark blonde girl, with curly hair got it on a pony tail on her head, her eyes big and deep blue with some green pigment, in her round and peached face. Wearing a short sleeve shirt with a rainbow printed, and a short jean, and sneakers with colorful decorations. -Kids I told you, to knock the door before to get in to the training room- saids in so sweet voice a brunette woman with a hazel eyes, and smiling face. -oh, don't mind Helena, we're over- said a the man on the floor waking up, and turn the smile to the girl. She leave the hand of the boy when her father took her in to his arms. The boy runs over the other man, a long haired strong and big man with tattooed arms, who jump his kid over his head. -Papa, papa, I ask it to Dawn for she to come with us to the beach- -Is ok Gladio- his father tolds him smiling- but probably, we must to ask the permission of her father- -can I Papa? You would be so busy the weekend, and I like to see the sea!- the girl pleads to her father with a pouty sweet expresión on her face -well hun, is ok for me, if they agree- Cor tells tenderly to his daughter -oh, will be a pleasure bring with us to that kind girl, and Gladio will be so happy with his best friend playing in the sea with him- tells the charming brunette woman, hugging the child girl back, in time she where removed from her father arms to the charm woman harms in a tender hug. -well then, better we go home to take your stuffs- Cor says, smiling to the woman and the tall man, who smiles and crasped in tenderles the curled blond head of the girl. -well, then is beach time, my kids!- says Clarus. And all them leaves the hall. -------------------- The car has stop, and I wake up from my doze, we need to fuel and I'm hungry. I down from the car, asking my father if we are so far from Insomnia. -we will be arrive in a pair of hours- he says triying to be kind, even is obvious he is disgusted by the fact I want to come back -in hungry- -ok, we could eat a the crow nest- said heading in to it, I followed him.

#gladio for reader #gladiolus reader #gladio x reader #gladio amicitia #gladiolus amicitia #cor leonis #ignis stupeo scientia #noctis caelum #prompto argentum #ffxv #final fantasy #final fantasy xv #insomnia tales

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bharatiyamedia-blog · 5 years

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Large Homosexual Ice Cream Cofounder on Rising His Enterprise

http://tinyurl.com/yxdq3p3j Out of the worst recession the nation has seen for the reason that Nice Despair, and within the span of a decade, Big Gay Ice Cream has grown from happy-go-lucky and social media wunderkind ice cream truck to Ben & Jerry’s competitor standing, now with a full retail line in shops on each coasts. In celebration of each its 10th birthday and West Coast retail enlargement, Large Homosexual Ice Cream additionally just lately launched three new pint flavors: Banan-o-Graham (caramelized banana ice cream with graham swirls and graham crunch), Fluffernutter (peanut butter ice cream with marshmallow swirls, micromallows, and peanut praline), and Spicy Choco-Lit (milk chocolate ice cream with spicy fudge swirls and scorching cinnamon sweet items). Pints include a urged retail worth of $5.99. Certainly one of Large Homosexual Ice Cream’s founders, Doug Quint, spoke with Fortune this month about how the enterprise has grown this model, beginning out as a meals truck with places discoverable through social media to one of many nation’s main LGBTQ manufacturers. Under is our dialog. Fortune: It’s your 10th birthday! Congratulations! What impressed you to launch the Large Homosexual Ice Cream truck once you did?—within the midst of the Nice Recession, no much less? How a lot did social media assist contribute to the model’s viral following and success? Quint: The timing of Large Homosexual Ice Cream’s birthday and our preliminary success is a sequence of flukes. I made a decision that after I handed the excellent exams for my doctoral diploma, I’d take the summer season off from learning and performing (I’m a classically skilled bassoonist) and discover a “bizarre summer season job.” The possibility to have an ice cream truck at my disposal with none important expense got here alongside, and I took it. On our finish, the recession had nothing to do with it—although it was in all probability linked to our preliminary success. We had been a $three deal with throughout a time when individuals had been searching for low cost and high quality enjoyable. By way of social media, we wouldn’t have our identify with out Facebook (fb), and we wouldn’t have constructed our military of supporters with out social media. In winter 2009, as soon as we determined that the ice cream truck was actually going to occur, I created a Fb group to doc the venture. We had no identify for the truck but. I figured that finally one thing would come to us, so, as a placeholder, I named the group “Large Homosexual Ice Cream Truck.” We had no intention of this turning into the identify of our enterprise, however individuals began becoming a member of the group. After a number of weeks of watching strangers getting excited about regardless of the “Large Homosexual Ice Cream Truck” was, we determined to cease attempting to conceive a model identify and go along with the one we unintentionally created. Oops! Over the previous 10 years, what you are promoting has grown from a single meals truck, to brick-and-mortar places, to a nationwide operation. What do you consider is your whole addressable market? The place do you need to take this model in the end? What do I consider is our whole addressable market? Is it foolish to say “everybody”? We’ve by no means tried to compartmentalize our potential consumers. Homosexual? Positive. Outdated? Okay. Straight? In fact. No matter? Sounds good. As for the place we need to take it in the end, that makes it sound like we now have one finish aim to attain, when in truth we now have a dozen objectives. Elevated viewers, brick-and-mortar retailers in additional cities, continued development of our pints by way of each market availability and product line. There’s nobody place that we hope to wind up, except you imply in everybody’s freezer. Doug Quint, cofounder of Large Homosexual Ice Cream. How are the grocery store pints doing right here and out of state? It will appear troublesome to match the soft-serve expertise in-store with pints on the native CVS. The pints are doing effectively—very well. We hold showing in new locations, and watching that play out on social media is nice. You bought us from a comfort retailer in a Seattle suburb? Far out! However you’ll be able to’t equate getting a soft-serve cone at one in all our retailers with shopping for a pint at a drugstore. They’re not the identical expertise, and one isn’t higher than the opposite. What’s necessary, although, is that each are a Large Homosexual Ice Cream expertise. For the pints specifically, what we now have tried to do is re-create the sensation of ice cream hitting your mouth for the primary time, having it ship the identical endorphins and set off the identical sense reminiscence of the enjoyable a child has when consuming ice cream. By way of the success of the pints, after we launched our pint line many of the unique flavors had been reimagined variations of taste profiles we used at our retailers. The cone American Globs, for example, made the bounce to a pint American Globs. We added three new pints this yr, and all of them—Banan-o-Graham, Spicy Choco-Lit, and Fluffernutter—are unique pint-only creations that we dreamed up. No soft-serve variations. It was an actual thrill to develop flavors that had been bypassing a store part—we love them and are extraordinarily pleased with ourselves for growing them. For instance, Fluffernutter went from a sandwich we liked as children and changed into a pint. A a lot completely different inventive course of. What number of prospects in a given location does it take to maintain a retailer? How many individuals within the Midwest, for instance, would purchase from a spot that sells merchandise known as “Salty Pimp”? (Pretty much as good as that vanilla ice cream cone with salty darkish chocolate and swirls of dulce de leche is.) Have you ever ever run into that sort of branding or identification barrier? Would you ever regulate your model, dare we are saying campiness, for a given market or demographic? I attempt to not spend an excessive amount of time frightened in regards to the gross sales projections and development charts. For me, it takes away from the magic. Since day one our focus has been on creating the very best ice cream on the planet. We knew if we acquired that proper, the remaining would fall into place. Even again within the truck days, we’d watch individuals stroll by and see them learn our signal, in some circumstances, out loud. We’d watch them say “Large Homosexual Ice Cream?” and generally they’d chuckle and stroll off however more often than not they had been intrigued and would be part of the road. It’s humorous how issues work out, as a result of now that can be occurring within the ice cream part in shops on each coasts. Our hope is that individuals see our offbeat branding and provides us a attempt. One spoonful is all it can take to earn a fan for all times. Banan-o-Graham is the brand new pint-size ice cream model of the in-store banana cream pie comfortable serve. Talking of branding, Satisfaction—particularly the month of June, which is now celebrated by many as “Satisfaction Month”—has turn into a model of its personal. And it’s noticeable what number of company manufacturers have adopted (and even appropriated) Satisfaction for their very own advertising and marketing ends. Retailers like J.Crew and Listerine are incorporating rainbow colours and phrases like “love” and “satisfaction,” however nowhere do they point out something in regards to the LGBTQ neighborhood or use phrases similar to “homosexual” or “lesbian” or “trans,” and so forth. How do you’re feeling about different manufacturers that historically weren’t synonymous with this neighborhood lean into Satisfaction? Is it an indication of progress or simply the cogs of capitalism? We don’t make some extent of defining what our “homosexual” is, or telling individuals what we wish them to consider us. Are we going to inform a serious clothes conglomerate that their pride-time attire is “too homosexual” or “not homosexual sufficient”? Not our type; let the consumers determine. There are many locations on the planet the place sporting a shirt that merely says “satisfaction” will get you greater than a sneer. Anyhow, this can be a good time for me to say, “I’m simply an ice cream man, neither choose nor thinker.” The place do you hope or anticipate to see Large Homosexual Ice Cream one other 10 years from now? Large Homosexual Ice Cream has simply turned 10. We by no means thought it might flip ONE. If you happen to requested me then the place I believed we’d be now, I’d have simply laughed on the concept of the enterprise making it to a decade, and take a look at it—we’ve gone from one truck at a nook in New York Metropolis to a number of store places and a big selection of pints accessible on each coasts of the nation. We’re an internationally recognized model! What’s going to Large Homosexual Ice Cream be when it turns 20? I don’t even need to think about. I simply need to see us thrive, and I need to proceed this loopy rocket journey into the unknown. —Seattle eating places are getting smaller, and maybe better, in actual property crunch —Israeli pastries get a New York City makeover at this six-seat bakery —To fight meals waste, these Brooklyn companies teamed as much as brew bagel beer —Right here’s how one can get a degree in gelato —Hearken to our new audio briefing, Fortune 500 Daily Follow Fortune on Flipboard to remain up-to-date on the newest information and evaluation. Source link

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allaboutquinceaneras · 6 years

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All dressed up or somewhere to go: The modern choices of a Mexican quinceanera; The celebration of a girl’s 15th birthday is among the most cherished, and costly, cultural traditions in Mexico. But as with many things in this country, it’s changing quickly

MEXICO CITY – The lines were drawn, and the sides were dug in deep, the yawning gulf between their positions near unbridgeable. Gisela Quiroz imagined her daughter Karen Rodriguez in Canada, visiting waterfalls, walking city streets, chattering in newly fluent English. Karen pictured herself in a dress of blue tulle and rhinestones, presiding over 250 guests as a band played in an elegant event hall in their hometown of Veracruz.

Touring the vast, glitterencrusted hallways of the 15Fest exposition in Mexico City not long ago, the family had a conflict to resolve. Would Karen commemorate her quinceanera, her 15th birthday, with a party or an educational trip abroad?

Karen herself observed with a desultory shrug that her parents hold the veto - “they’re paying.”

But as she raked her eyes over the commercial exhibit of all things quinceanera - a welter of tiered cakes and shimmying dance troupes and flocks of live models wearing voluminous sparkling gowns - there was a certain set to Karen’s slender jaw that suggested this battle would not be so easily resolved.

The quinceanera is among Mexico’s more cherished cultural traditions, but like much else in this country, it is changing quickly. More and more girls are opting to take a trip, for example, instead of marking the milestone with a party, for which a middle-class family typically pays the equivalent of about $15,000. A whole section of the recent exhibition at the World Trade Centre was devoted to tour companies.

Rogelio Salgado, the director of Ola Tours, who spent some time trying to persuade Ms. Quiroz about the merits of a European excursion (while Karen drummed her fingers on her knees), said that when the company first opened nearly 50 years ago, it was just a handful of wealthy girls who chose Europe. Then the practice spread slowly to the middle class - but today it’s low-income families who are most keen to forgo the “presentation to society” and instead make sure their girls see the world, he said.

“In Mexico today, the poor are not so poor and the traditions are not so traditional,” Mr. Salgado drawled, keeping one practised eye on the crowd as he looked for mothers or fathers who might be susceptible to his pitch.

It runs like this: first, that a party is for just a day - just a few hours, really - whereas the effects of an educational excursion will be felt for a lifetime.

Second: “A trip is for your daughter, a party is for the all the people who are invited.” He means, not to put too fine a point on it, gossip: everyone who’s invited (and plenty of people who aren’t) will talk about what kind of food, decorations and entertainment you have at your party, and how they stack up against all the others; the only person who knows how her trip went is your daughter.

Third, money: His 27-day trip to Europe costs 8,000 (about $12,400). “For a party, you will spend 10,000 or more. For a trip, you know what you’re spending once you sign the contract. For the party, you will spend more and more and you don’t stop spending until the lights are turned off in the ballroom.”

15Fest offered parents a breathtaking array of opportunities to spend money. There were the standards, of course - food and music and gilt-spackled invitations - and also the new necessities. “You have options with photography - you can get a drone to film the whole party,” explained Margarita Leon, who was in charge of sales for 15Fest, “and you can rent a venue that comes with a social-media influencer.” Yes: For a price, an event hall will include a YouTube star or an Instagram sensation who will live-hashtag the party.

But the centrepiece of the event, of course, is the dress (or dresses - some birthday girls will change into as many as five over the evening.) The dress sales stands were the biggest in the hall (they run the designers as much as $35,000 for the weekend exhibit). One had a dozen live models; when a parent signed a contract for a dress, and put down the 30-percent deposit, all of the models gathered around the daughter and one placed a tiara on her head as they chanted in a chorus, “Princesas si existean!” - princesses do exist! Diana Ramoneda, 16, was modelling a royal-blue dress studded with rhinestones. She didn’t have a quinceanera last year, opting instead to take a short trip with her dad on her actual birthday, and bank the promise of a longer one to the Caribbean this year. She has no regrets - “a party is only for one day and a trip you remember forever,” said Ms. Ramoneda, who hopes to go to medical school and become a surgeon. But that meant she never got the dress, and so she was delighted when a photographer friend hooked her up with the modelling gig.

“It’s really not that uncomfortable,” she said, expertly shoving her giant skirt out of the way of a passerby. “Actually, the truth is that I love it.”

Ms. Ramoneda was modelling for Amaraby, one of the highest-end design houses in Mexico. Designer Amaraby Munguia presided over a huge silvery stand, wearing a harried air and dark suit decorated with a rhinestone Napoleonic broach on its breast pocket.

Amaraby (he uses just the one name), 34, saved up to do a course at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, with ambitions of life as an evening-wear designer.

Whipping out his phone, he showed off pictures of the clothes he makes that are closest to his heart - angular, stark evening dresses in greys and gilts and whites - the complete opposite, in short, of his quinceanera dresses. “This is the passion of girls in Mexico,” he said resignedly, “so I do what I can to make them look as good as I can.”

He draws customers of Mexican origin from the United States; that Saturday, he had one from New York - a girl who had decided her dress must be embroidered with crystals. It will cost US$2,700. “She had an even higher budget, but I refused to go higher - I thought it was a barbarity,” he said. Amaraby does his best to steer his young customers into dresses that will be flattering. “I give them advice - and they listen - they trust me, because I make them look good,” he said.

“But, look, if a girl has a dream, she will follow it and you have to make it look as good as possible. You do what you can.”

Outside the bank of fittingrooms at his stand, Samantha Gaytan, 14, was frowning at her reflection in the mirror, tugging at the corseted bodice of a peach dress with a vast tulle skirt. She took a few pictures with her phone, then wrestled her way back into the cubicle to take it off.

“I liked it, but I didn’t love it,” she said, when she emerged from the cubicle. Too pink? Too puffy? No. Too minimalist. “I want more,” she said. Her mother, Ana Valdez, nodded with understanding. An Amaraby salesperson assured her that they could make that dress for her - same colour (“it’s coral,” Samantha said firmly) but bigger skirt.

Samantha is expecting 200 people at her party, and she and her parents are in agreement about the event. “It’s also about the process behind the party,” said Ms. Valdez, who is a secretary at the American Express headquarters in the capital - about outings like their visit to the expo. “You visit lots of event venues, you see lots of dances and performances - you do a procession in convertible cars, in your dress, on La Reforma [a central boulevard in the city] and it really cements your friendships.” She’s been saving money for the party for the past six months, and her brother will help pay, Ms. Valdez said.

Now, Samantha has 10 months to plan. “You have your dreams and expectations and then you have to make it happen,” she said, the businesslike tone creeping back into her voice.

At the next stand over, Brenda Meza, 13, was gazing wistfully at a dress made of rainbow tulle. At US$1,250, it will gobble up a chunk of the budget set by her mother, Elizabeta, a bank clerk. But her aunt Guadalupe Meza was egging them on. “She’s only going to turn 15 once in her life!” she said. “Our daughter is becoming a woman!”

Brenda will wear the rainbow dress only one night, but her aunt pointed out that she still has her own, from 28 years ago, in her closet, and it makes her happy every time she looks at it.

In the Meza family, the conflict was not around whether to have the party, but what kind it should be. “A lot of my friends don’t want quinceaneras - because they don’t want their family and their friends in the same place,” said Brenda, who has blue braces and lanky limbs. She wants a Harry Potter theme, and there is a debate about music: Brenda wants English pop, her aunt said with an eye roll of her own - Justin Bieber and the like.

Brenda, protesting, attempted to explain: Parties these days aren’t about the community and society, they’re about being with your friends. Her aunt tsked. Elizabeta interrupted. “What matters is that she’s happy and has fun.”

The Quiroz-Rodriguez family, meanwhile, was touring the booths. Karen, in a jaunty headband with a bow, was developing a negotiating position - party and trip. A small, affordable party. She had spotted “a reasonable blue dress with a reasonably sized skirt.”

Her mother, however, was unpersuaded. “Three weeks in Canada would be cheaper than a party - there is no cheap party.”

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