#But it's so hard because like most of the recipes online have like a million ingredients | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liam-93-productions · 4 years ago

Text

Liam’s full interview with Tings Magazine - Part 1

Note: the interview was recorded in may 2020.

Justin Campbell: What is the weirdest YouTube/Instagram trend hole that you’ve fallen into? Liam: One that always gets me is putting Mentos in Pepsi or Coke. We all know what happens, but we have to watch the ending. I’ve seen it about fifty times, and it doesn’t change. But it’s weird finding out what things are interesting when you’re stuck inside. It’s a crazy ride watching the world react to this. It’s almost like everybody’s become a street performer. You see these people on the street who have a special skill like magic and the internet is now the place for that and everybody does it.

Do you feel pressured to participate? Is there currency in that? Does that keep you relevant? I think artists have had to change a lot to fit in. There used to be mystery where you didn’t know too much about their lives, whereas we are in my living room now for all the world to see. I think that’s the biggest change of these newer platforms. I think you have to join in if you want to stay relevant. If you look at someone like Jason Derulo, he has 19 million followers on TikTok and he just started. His old songs are re-charting because of the TikTok chart. So, you can’t just make music and expect it to go well anymore. There has to be a personality and a story. It’s not quite the same anymore.

There’s so many differente avenues to keep up with. There’s Instagram, YouTube, TikTok. It used to be you did radio, tours and late-night television. Now there seem to be a dozen things to do. It’s crazy, this last promo schedule for me, having to do it indoors. I had to learn how to do a bunch of different jobs for the people that couldn’t be here. We put up a green screen in my lounge. We moved all the sofas, me and the camera guy that is staying with me set up the green screen and then you have to film it as well. It’s just crazy the amount of different things that you have to get involved in right now to stay relevant. And that’s all it is. The majority of the stuff isn’t really doing anything, but it’s doing loads at the same time if that makes sense. It’s a difficult thing to get used. And also, things have gotten jovial. So, you have to learn to make fun of ourselves. You can’t be Mr. Serious pop-star anymore. People aren’t really attracted to that anymore. People like the fun side of you, your personality and your humor come through on these things. It’s crazy. I thought about when I joined TikTok the other week, there’s a pressure to film something fun. But then if you are not having fun filming it, you’re not going to film a fun video. And I didn’t want to live my life every day thinking I got to film a video or nobody is going to care. I spent an hour trying to think of stuff and I don’t want to live my life like this. I enjoy then. I like going on TikTok and getting lost in a little TikTok rabbit hole, we all do, but I don’t know if I’m that way inclined mentally.

With the need to share more, to share a comedic side or a vulnerable side, where do you draw the line? When do you stop sharing? How much of it is constructed sharing and how much of it is authentic sharing? It’s difficult. I’m very prone to enjoy a moment rather than take my camera out and film it. I’m always one of those people who take a picture of a sunset and then never look at it and say why did I bother taking the picture. I’d rather enjoy the moment. We live in a day and age where the camera phone is people’s first thought for things. And I’m just not one of those people. Humorous stuff will happen and it will be off the cuff, but we didn’t film it. And it will be like “aw, should we recreate it?” But we don’t want to recreate it. It just feels stupid. It always feels forced in that sense. So for me, I definitely struggle with sharing moments. And you have those people out there, who are literally willing to do anything. There’s a trend for people who are shaving their eyebrows off at the moment. I’m not going to shave my eyebrows off so people will care a little more. That just doesn’t register with me. You have Jake and Logan Paul, who do a lot of crazy, crazy things to get noticed. And it’s like where do you draw the line.

These platforms make it challenging to carve out a private life. People expect more and more of celebrities’ lives to be shared. They feel they have ownership of every aspect of people’s lives. What are your thoughts on that? From the start of this lockdown, the first James Corden TV performance was filmed in the lounge and we went through my whole house. I can remember back in the day when a newspaper sent out the photos of my house. I don’t like people knowing where I sleep because it’s a security problem for me. I had a big complaint about that. Now fast forward 5-6 years and the world has changed to where nothing is really a private or intimate moment. It’s strange. As One Direction, we were in an era on the rise of Twitter. I think Twitter helped us a lot. It was the way we trended on Twitter that actually made us famous. But being on the cusp of that internet stardom, we didn’t really care about how many followers [we had]. Now, it’s become a currency. I just struggle to take those things seriously, that it is part of the job because it feels so foreign. When we had apps as kids, there was no way to becoming MSN famous. Now kids want to be an Instagrammer or a TikTokker. It’s crazy. We never had that.

You said something about people chasing the currency of liked and follows. Kids are thinking about that validation when they are creating content. How much of that are you thinking about it when you create music or social media/video content? I think, for me, I don’t often pay attention to how many likes thing gets. As a pop star, you have to have an average amount per post. We have to have meetings now where people will go through posts, and tell you why this works. Which for me, it seems insane, but you have this persona that you have to keep up online. And definitely, when posting certain things, you are gauging whether it’s going to get a reaction or there’s no point in posting it. And that’s always been the problem for me. I’m hoping for a big reaction for stuff which limits the amount you post because you think there’s no point posting this. Often the people who do the best in these scenarios are the people that didn’t mean for it to happen. Someone makes a little challenge like The Ice Bucket Challenge. Someone thought I’ll do this. It will be fun for us to film and because they are having fun, everyone is like we will get involved. If you think about it too much, it will overtake you. For the longest time, I didn’t post a lot. I got off of Twitter because of the backlash and the fact that you are always going to annoy someone with a post. I was like, I can’t deal with it. I might as well keep it to myself. There’s no disappointment.

I think that’s part of the condition of being an artist. You crave a certain amount of validation. When it’s work, you can take that some people won’t get it. But because everything has become so personal now like it’s about you. You sell your personality to people. It’s like if someone asks you “what five things do you want people to know about you”. And everyone goes, well, I’d like to be... You suddenly think, what we are doing every day online is trying to sell ourselves. It’s a difficult balance. You have to have the right amount of humor and humility and the right amount of this. It’s so difficult to find that person. And you see people who become caricatures of themselves online. They overdo it. You don’t know what works any why it works. The internet is such an untested experiment. The public decides. It’s so crazy.

You just said that it can feel so personal, which I think is such an honest statement because when you are putting yourself out there, it is hard to celebrate the work and you. When people don’t like something, it can feel like they are personally attacking you. It genuinely scares me sometimes. Even to post a selfie, because you just don’t know what the recipe is. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just trying to stay around if that makes sense. I don’t know, it’s difficult. The fact that you just let it go and it’s gone and people either take it or leave it. It’s like jumping on stage every time you post, which scares me anyway.

You’ve spoken pretty openly about dealing with depression and anxiety. How does this level of exposure impact your ability to manage your anxiety? Before all of this started, the first day of school would probably be when you are your most anxious. Or it’s your own clothes day and you don’t know what to wear. That feels like what everyone is going through every single day online. It’s like the teen generation has so many more questions to answer that we had. I know as a kid I was quite stressed. I can’t imagine how these kids feel these days. The only way I can relate is by how I feel in this scenario. Obviously, being a little bit older, you are a little wiser with it. I thinks it’s a different kind of pressure these days. It’s a worldwide pressure. The fact that anyone can become a superstar overnight or also the most embarrassing thing in the world and the line is that thin. I can’t imagine what is like for kids growing up in that scenario. For me, it’s raised a lot of questions about my mental health and having to deal with these things. I’ve been running a pilot with someone for people in my position, people who struggle with fame, with the position that they get themselves. You don’t really realize the playbook you’re pressing. Once you’re in it, you’re in it. I started from 14-16, were my two start years. And the only answer that people had for you was that you’ve got have thick skin. But I don’t think that’s really the point because once you are here, you have to find out if your skin is thick enough. You have to learn. For the longest time, if somebody wrote something about me in the press, I’d rise back up and bring back up. I didn’t realize they were trying to bait me out because they knew I’d do that. Then they’d write three more articles about the scenario that I didn’t want them to write about. You can only know that with years of experience. If something comes out now, I just leave it to die and go away and that’s it. I just think it’s difficult when people say the only answer is that you have to have thick skin to do this.

That’s not really a solution. That’s just saying you asked for this. This is just part of it, which I don’t think is fair. Is fame something that you struggle with a lot? For me, there’s different periods, severe highs with different things and a lot of questions about stuff. I’ve been going at this now for ten years, which seems insane. I’m only 26 as well, which is quite a long time to be doing anything. And to be in this pressure cooker for that long is quite difficult, but I say I’ve learned to deal with it better now. Age and time are wonderful things. And we were buffered as teens. We had each other in the band. When I look at someone like Justin Bieber, I think no wonder he went completely mental at some point because there is no one in the world that knows what is like to be Justin Bieber, but Justin Bieber. He had no one to share it with. We had each other to share it with, to remember it with and be reminded how to behave, how to act. You shouldn’t do that. It was tough at some points, but for the most part it was helpful growing up in that team exercise rather than be let off on your own and you’re the most famous person in the world. It must have been pretty crazy for him.

#liam payne #liam's interviews #tings magazine #05.11.2020

214 notes · View notes

crabsxdragons · 4 years ago

Text

boyfriend kim mingyu bullet points.

ps. this is my first time writing in a bullet points format, i hope i did it right

food is the center of your relationship (5/9 of the pictures are basically him eating, not at all surprising)

your date always centers around food, whether it’d be lunch dates, dinner dates, snack dates, trying out new restaurants, late night snack dates, convenience store mukbang dates, and even cooking class dates

you would always sit on his right side, him on your left side

you find it so cute that he’s left handed

you would always have to roll up his sleeves during a meal because he gets so excited about food *basically a whole baby

you like watching him stuff food in his mouth, making his cheeks puff up like a hamster

he would pout when you teased him about it

desserts

a must after every date

you find out that both of you follow the motto “there is always room for dessert” during your first date and he immediately knew you were the one for him

again, during dessert, especially if it’s ice cream, you would have to roll up his sleeves, and wipe off the melted ice cream on his fingers, and sometimes lips and cheeks

he would steal licks of your ice cream when you’re not looking

or if he’s feeling experimental, would mix both of your ice cream flavors to create a new flavor

doesn’t always work out that well

speaking of food, cooking is basically a whole other type of date

although you are more on the baking side, you love to help him try out recipes, become his assistant in the kitchen, or simply helping him clean up

you always love what he cooks, especially knowing how much care and love he puts to it

the same thing if you’re baking, mingyu loves your baked goods, from cakes to muffins to desserts to anything basically

sometimes you’d receive a text in the middle of the day of him suggesting you to try out a recipe he found online

and you did try some of them, which made him very happy

with your limited cooking skills, you’d sometimes send him homemade lunch when he has practice, alongside some snacks for the other members cause you can’t forget about them

mingyu would beam in pride when the members praised your chocolate chip cookies, or banana muffins, or fruit cake or when they fought over who gets the last piece of egg tart you made

homemade cake and dinner is a must for special occasions, especially birthdays, you both go out to eat quite a lot so during these special occasions you both like to just stay at home and cook or bake together

mingyu’s birthday cake from year to year always changes depending on his request, from the classic chocolate cake to apple pie to that crepe cake which took hours to make, and even a stack of macarons cause he hinted that he wanted a macarons tower cake *yes you’ve made so many cakes for him, you’ve dated for that long, mingyu is a guy with commitment

food photos, a must, everywhere you eat, every meal you make at home, every successful or failed recipes

and speaking of pictures-he has a separate album on his phone only for your pictures, the selfies you sent him, candid pics he took of you, your pictures together, impromptu photoshoots he made you do when he really likes your outfit

and don’t get started on the videos, he records whenever he can, something for him to see when he misses you, or when you’re asleep but he wants to see you but he kinda doesn’t want to wake you up, also something to laugh at because there are some moments worth laughing at *over and over again, he never gets enough of it

that’s just the photos on his phoneyou can expect the same situation with his camera

the pictures he took are beautiful, and he always tries to capture you in the most natural setting, he absolutely loved taking candid pictures of you, close up shoots that showed the way your eyes lit up at the beach in front of you, or how the wind blows your hair softly

on the rare occasion that you get to be behind the camera instead of him, it’s his turn to be in every picture

sometimes he lets you use his camera, he loved the pictures you took, how you managed to capture everyday life details that others would sometimes miss, he loves nothing more than to see the world through your eyes

moving on to one of the obvious facts here, height difference

the boy is tall, like skyscraper talland you wonder if he would every stop growing taller because it seemed like everytime you see him he gets even taller

“stop it, you’re like a head taller than me”

which does comes with some pretty good perks

like when you can’t reach something from the top shelves, whether it be mugs in the kitchen, books in your favorite book store, that huge bag of chips at the convenience store, also very handy when it comes to changing lightbulbs

“why would you need a ladder when you have me ?”

he’s very smug about, and also lowkey dying from cuteness whenever he gets a reminder of how much shorter you are compared to him, it makes him want to squish you in a hug-

which he always does

hugs. from. mingyu. are. the. best.

just warm and comforting, sometimes he’ll lift you up and spin you around, sometimes he’ll kiss the top of your head, and rub your back, and tuck your head under his chin and you can just melt into his arms

back to the height topic

he likes to steal your books or phone when you were too focused that you’re not giving him enough attention

he would lift it above his head, completely out of your reach even if you tried your best to stand on your tippy toes

would most definitely laugh at your struggle while you give him the death glaresand he would say that you look like an angry bunny or a pissed off golden retriever puppy

which ultimately makes you roll your eyes at himnot to forget, you are also his portable arm rest

likes to mess with you by putting his huge arms on your shoulder, or on your head, purposely messing up your hair

but seriously, mingyu sometimes forgets the fact that he’s a giant and that he could easily crush you, so there were occasions when he would lean on you and you’d lose balance which resulted in both of you on the floor

yes, that happened

moving on

family

the most important thing for him and you

he took you to meet his family after a couple of dates because he’s been telling his mom about you and now she wants to meet you

his mom is very very nice, showing her affection by making you eat more (like how any mom would), also thanking you for taking care of mingyu because according to his mom, he looks so much healthier and happier now

after the first meeting with his family, his mom suddenly became your mom too, especially after mingyu gave her your number

would sometimes call you during lunch time to remind you to eat, ask you how you are doing, in general just the sweetest and loveliest person ever (not much of a surprise since we all know how sweet her son is), you think you might cry because she’s so caring

his mom would also send you kimchi when she has extras

correction, she purposely made more than usual so she can send you some too

which you gratefully accept after thanking her for a million times, then sending her back one of your baked goods

which she loves

and would not stop talking about it because she knows that you can bake but she was not expecting it to be absolutely great

mingyu loves seeing your relationship with his mom, and kinda jealous too because whenever he’s out of town for tour or promotions, you get to hangout with his mom, which he is very jealous about, but also he couldn’t help but smile looking at the pictures that you and his mom took together

but then you started hanging out with his sister too, and now you have a partner to tease him, which he doesn’t approve of because it seemed like his family likes you more than him now

especially since his sister has an ally now, and it’s 2 vs 1 with you and his sister against him

when you were hanging out one day in your place, his mom called you to ask if you’ve eaten yet

“eomma, how can you call y/n but not reply to the text i sent you last night”

you tried so hard to not laugh at his facial expression when his mom teased him by saying that you are her favorite child now

you spent the rest of the day laughing at him whenever he grumbled under his breath “i can’t believe my mom manages to call you, but not reply to her own son’s text message”

the only way to make him stop pouting-

hugs

are we not surprised herethis boy is sometimes so random, like that time when you were eating pasta, and he suddenly wanted to reenact that scene from the movie lady and the tramp

safe to say that you got sauce all over both of your shirts, and well... a few kisses too

his kisses are always so sweet, they’re the type that makes your heart squeeze and your toes curl

he loves to surprise you with light kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your hand, your hair, he just couldn’t help it sometimes

mostly they’re innocent, and full of love

unless he’s feeling a bit more passionate, he’ll pull you in for a longer kiss, hands resting on your cheek as his thumb gently brushed your skin, his other hand would either be on your waist, or your back, holding you so close to him

mingyu likes to take it slow, he likes to savor the moment, he doesn’t want it to end, so his lips would move slowly against yours, sometimes he would smile or let out a few giggles, making you giggle too

basically it’s pretty much light and playful with him, but still very meaningful

let’s just say that he always finds the most random times to kiss you, but always when it’s just the two of you, because your relationship isn’t actually something that the public knows

speaking of relationships, only his members, family and managers knows about you, and you both would like to keep it that way for as long as possible

you didn’t mind it at all, since you’re a very much private person yourself, so you have no problem with keeping it on the low

on the rare occasions that you both get to go out for your dates, he would always drive you somewhere a bit further away from the city

or somewhere private, with less to no people, the beach, a rooftop, restaurants that serves tiny servings of food that costs more that your meal weekly (which you didn’t mind, but you reminded mingyu to never spend too much on you)

did he ever listen ? yes, you guessed it right. never.

sometimes both of your schedules meant that you don’t get to see each other for weeks, even with being in the same city

but he’ll make it up to you by taking you away for the weekend, to a small town by the beach where you take long walks along the coastline, and eat dinner with sunsets

you love road trips like this, he’d pick you up, then you would jam out to songs on the way, stop by a rest area for brunch, and bought more snacks to accompany you for the rest of the trip

mingyu knows you love the ocean so much, so he would take you to the beach to watch the sun set, take unlimited amount of photos, pull you in for a hug and smother your face with kisses

then you’d have dinner accompanied by your laughter and conversations about anything

“thank you, for taking me here”

he’s shook his head, “no, this is my thank you, cause you’ve put up with being with someone like me”

his eyes would turn sad as he remembered how rarely you both met because of his schedules, “i’m sorry i’m not the best partner, we barely see each other”

at this, you would hold his hand and made him look at you, “hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about, i’m okay with this, it doesn’t matter if we couldn’t meet for months because that’s your career, your dream, just like i have mine, you have yours too, right ?”

“i know, but i mean- i’ve seen your friends and their partners, you know those boyfriends who would pick them up after class, who’d hold their hand as they walk down the street, take them to movies, not having to hide and be cautious all the time-“

“gyu, what makes you think i cared about those things ? i’m completely fine with having a boyfriend who still makes time to hang out at my place after a long day of practice, someone who sends me good luck videos when he’s halfway around the world living his dreams, someone who trusts me enough to let me be the first one to know about their comebacks and projects-“

and from the way you spoke to him with that shine in your eyes, he couldn’t help but lean closer and pull you in for a short kiss, pausing whatever you have to say

“i love you, thank you for putting up with me”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #svt #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen boyfriend #svt boyfriend #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu boyfriend #kim mingyu imagines

273 notes · View notes

hopeshoodie · 4 years ago

Text

I can’t believe it took me until part 8 to do my favorite boy but

Here are the pros and cons of dating

Noah

Cons

Noah is really non confrontational, so he tends to let issues fester. It’s not that he’s trying to let things build up, it’s just that he doesn’t think they’re important enough to bring up. He won’t start a fight about them when they’ve built up, but if MC is angry about something he’ll mention that there’s a bunch of things he’s let go but not have specifics. It ends up coming out like ‘yeah well what about all the other things?!’ ‘what other things!?’ ‘I don’t remember!!’. He’s not actively keeping track of all her mistakes, he genuinely does forgive and forget, but then when tensions come to a boil he needs to point out that there has been conflict that he just ignored. He’s not trying to guilt or gaslight MC, but sometimes it feels like it. If she thinks especially little of his intentions, it feels like he’s just pulling things out of thin air to be mad instead of focusing on the issue. That’s not what he’s doing- he just doesn’t address little things until they feel like big things. But of course he hasn’t done the introspection to truly understand how doing this is hurtful or articulate that he doesn’t mean it to be.

When he and MC disagree, he lets things go wayyy too easily. This is fine if MC is a really mature, self-reflective person who can see that she’s crossed a line after the fact. But if MC is a little more selfish/immature, like Lottie, this is a huge con because he doesn’t give her accountability that would help her grow. We saw this with Hope- she wasn’t able to recognize how harmful her temper was when she was dating Noah because he never pointed it out, he just rolled over. If there’s a genuine problem- financial, emotional, logistically, he’ll ‘let it go’ until it’s a way bigger problem (and much harder to solve).

Sorry that most of these cons are about how he fights with people, but that’s what we saw in-game lol. I’d love to know more about how Lucas or Rahim fight with their partners. But when you’re arguing, Noah tends to focus on really little details of what you said instead of listening to the whole thing and getting a sense of the bigger picture. So let’s say the issue is ‘Noah, I need you to tell me when you’re borrowing my car because you took it to the gym and then it went from having enough gas to get me to work in the morning to being on empty. This morning I had to stop for gas and that made me late.” The issue there is actually ‘please tell me when you’re using my car”, but he fixates on the gas part and says “well fine I can fill up your tank”. So he focuses on little details that he can fix instead of acknowledging the actual problem.

He internalizes things so fucking hard. Yes he intellectually knows that when MC gives him feedback on things she’s talking about his BEHAVIOR and not him as a person, but he definitely feels like shit about himself if he makes a mistake and MC calls him on it. He’ll definitely beat himself up about things for weeks after it happens, and his internal dialogue in general is pretty toxic.

I can see him being a bit of a workaholic. Not in the same sense that Camilo is in Boat Party, but Noah definitely will go into the library on a day he’s scheduled to be off if he has projects to work on or will stay late because he got engrossed in research. Same thing now that the library’s closed because of COVID- it takes him two times as long to put everyone online and work from home, so he’s spending more time working than ever. He views it through the lens of the ‘greater good’- getting that display set up for the patrons is more important that seeing his wife two hours earlier because many members of the community outnumber one person. Plus he just cares so much about his work that he has a hard time seeing it as an inconvenience to other people.

He loves his family so much. Even when MC and he get married and have kids, he struggles to prioritize them over his siblings and parents. So if his little brother Arlo needs money, Noah won’t hesitate to give him a loan even if he and MC are struggling financially. If his aging mom or dad can’t live alone anymore, Noah will invite them to move in with his family, even if their house isn’t big enough to accommodate more people. I can see this being a huge point of contention, especially in that second scenario where MC would have to take on a caretaker role as well. Noah just wants to help people so bad and has a hard time saying no, so that can sometimes impede his partner.

He’s really used to living on low income, and so he has a lot of frugal habits and concessions that he thinks are normal that someone more middle or upper class might find irritating. These are all coming from my experience and things partners have complained about- but think things like only eating out once a month or refusing to turn the heat on until it’s dangerous or making his own laundry detergent. He grew up doing them out of necessity (and still does, student debt on a public librarian’s budget? I couldn’t do it), so he doesn’t realize how strange or frustrating his habits might be to someone who isn’t used to it. He also has a really hard time justifying spending excessive amounts of money, so if MC has lavish taste there’s going to be some conflict.

He doesn’t like initiating anything. Conversations, activities… you know *smirk emoji*. He will, but the ratio of when Noah suggests something to when MC does is like 1:8

My boy is beautiful, and his clothes look lovely, but he has 7 outfits that he rewears all the time. The closest thing to fashion is him putting a different button up shirt underneath his vest. It’s definitely a joke at work that he wears the same sweater, button up, and quarter length shirt just in different colors. You know that vine where the teacher walks into the room wearing the same shirt in different colors, saying the same ‘hello’ for like a million days. Noah’s coworkers remake that with him, because that’s exactly what he does.

He’s a bit of a homebody, and loves routine. For me, massive plus, I love that. But for someone who wants to party regularly or be spontaneous, I can see constantly changing plans and going out with people being really draining to Noah. He has a small group of close friends, so he’d struggle to remember MC’s friends' names if she has more than five. Don’t get me wrong, Noah will take MC to galleries and dates at least three times a month, but it has to be discussed and scheduled in advance.

Pros

Honestly, what isn’t a pro about him? Noah is a steadfast, thoughtful, and kind person. His politics are about taking care of people, providing them dignity and respect, and building community. He loves his family and is incredibly patient. He’s incredibly smart but not at all classist or condescending about it. I know this is supposed to be about how the islanders affect the person they’re dating, but oh my god he’s such a good person I love him. Let’s just say the pro for this is his positive aura.

He’s really good at group dynamics and listening, so he goes out of his way to make everyone feel heard and valued. If someone says something and no one acknowledges it, he’ll specifically engage with them so they’re not left hanging. If someone’s trying to get a word in but can’t, he’ll get everyone’s attention then say ‘so and so had an idea’. He’s not one to boisterously laugh in group settings, but he always makes eye contact and smiles if you make a joke that flops or say something he agrees with. If people are teasing about something, he picks up if it’s gone too far really easily and will gracefully change the subject/tell them to knock it off.

He’s super conscientious about respecting boundaries and ensuring the people around him are taking care of himself. If MC and him are long distance and texting after 10pm, he’ll be like “I love you, but we’ve both got to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”. He’ll always check and make sure people have eaten when meeting up with them, and if they haven’t he’ll insist they get food from somewhere. 100% gives you his jacket, brings you water bottles, in general just wants you to take care of yourself.

Above all else, Noah just always ensures the people around him feel safe. The last thing he’d want to do is make people uncomfortable, so safe driving, safe spaces, safe sex are all musts. He’s really good in crisis situations because he can calm people down and encourage them to think critically.

Building off of that, he’s really aware of how much of the housework is being done by who and always tries to ensure he’s doing his part. I bet that was a big thing he ripped on Rahim for- Rahim expects his woman to clean up after him and do the bulk of the domestic work, and Noah knows that’s bullshit. I think Noah likes cleaning, anyways, and will usually take laundry/disinfecting bathrooms/cleaning dishes over cooking or running errands. But the mental load of keeping track of recipes/groceries that need replenishing and keeping up with kids needs, he’s aware of the imbalance and does his part. Obvious plus, because it sounds fucking exhausting to date a man. He fucking hates vaccuming though, and will splurge on a roomba.

He has a dry sense of humor that’s very based in puns and hyperbole. Sometimes it’s hard to know when he’s joking or not, but he never makes you feel bad for missing a joke or dwells on something for too long. He absolutely subscribes to the Mcelroys’ No Bummers rule, there are some things you don’t joke about and he’s happy to shut down inappropriate comments or ‘jokes’. He definitely prefers physical gaffs and dumb ways of saying things, so his favorite comedians are John Mulaney and Chris Fleming. While humor isn’t an important part of how he relates to other people, Noah enjoys being around funny people and won’t shut down their energy like Rahim, Marisol, or Hope.

This is just me projecting again but Noah is generoussss. Even though he doesn’t make a lot of money at the library, he still has a ‘mutual aid’ budget each month (and goes over it often). He’s the first one to give money to panhandlers, donate to gofundmes, and give friends/family personal loans. That definitely gets him into sticky situations sometimes, because he has a hard time saying no and can get taken advantage of, but ultimately I think it’s a pro because he’ll never forget where he came from and always prioritize helping other people.

He has a really pretty, deep singing voice and this is a pro to me because fuck I meltttttt.

The shit he says to his partner or spouse? THE most romantic thing in the world. You think Mr. “you’re made of stardust” doesn’t shower his lover with the most meaningful lines at random times? You think he’s not quoting sappho and jane austen when he’s at a loss for words? You think he’s NOT going to turn over in bed on a lazy Saturday and say ‘this is the most perfect my life will ever be’? It’s not even prompted either, yes he’ll compliment Bobby or MC when they get all dressed up for date night, but more often he’ll profess his adoration in the middle of dinner, then take another forkful of food.

Fantastic with kids, and this is a huge pro because people who can work with kids and be patient/positive with them make me so fuckim soft. But if/when (hopefully when because if MC didn’t want kids I don’t think it’d last) they had kids, Noah is happy to be on bottle duty, wake up early to the baby, and generally be a really involved parent. He’ll take a big chunk of paternity leave, and generally be there as much as humanly possible. Even when they have multiple little tyrants running around, he always makes time to be alone with MC and make sure she’s not taking on too much.

He’s basically a lesbian, which is definitely a reason I love him so much. Hear me out- loves milfs, loves 80s music, communicates affection through meaningful glances and playing with hair but will die before explicitly saying any of it, crushes on his best friend for the longest time but never makes the first move, puts way too much emotional meaning and personal metaphors into objects and then presents them as gifts, is into fandoms and actively collects pop figures, is attracted to assertive/powerful women, wears beige skinny jeans, wears VESTS….. That’s a lesbian. He’s a bisexual man, but he’s also an honorary lesbian.

A really good confidant. Noah’s an amazing listener and never judges people harshly- his life philosophy is as long as you’re not hurting anymore or yourself, everything else is details. So you can definitely tell him secrets and confess regrets to him and he’ll listen with those soft eyes and gentle nods. Talking to him about mistakes always feels like unburdening yourself. And he’d never tell your secret to anyone. Doesn’t matter if you cheat on him, lie to him, or die, he’s never going to tell anyone your secrets.

#litg #litg noah #pros and cons

40 notes · View notes

cadence-talle · 4 years ago

Text

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.)

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!)

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting.

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter!

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts!

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé.

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag!

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.”

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.”

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.”

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.”

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.”

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.”

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts.

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.”

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter.

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her.

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving.

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans.

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I didn’t-”

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses.

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!”

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her.

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?”

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter.

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble.

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?”

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont.

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory.

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it.

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund.

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.”

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie.

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more.

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.”

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel.

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are

I know you only do that to annoy me.

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy

Have you tried talking to people?

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize.

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster.

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side.

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.”

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.”

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother?

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.”

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.”

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves.

“You’re even prettier in person.”

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The�� tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up.

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.”

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks.

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.”

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.”

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.”

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.”

Fitz nods. “Neat.”

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze.

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker.

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?”

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too.

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances.

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs.

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.”

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.”

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.”

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans.

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up.

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND.

“Cookies,” he announces.

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place.

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti.

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile.

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.)

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up.

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.”

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red.

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?”

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number.

415-623-7868

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.)

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good.

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet.

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up.

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven.

What on earth was that.

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?”

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.”

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile.

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep.

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp.

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.”

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs.

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak.

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods.

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers.

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air.

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is.

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod.

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.”

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back.

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus.

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for.

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Dex can’t sleep.

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something.

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty.

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them.

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it.

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.”

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you.

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter.

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head.

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time.

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering.

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.”

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs.

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.”

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.”

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.”

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins.

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing.

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it.

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again.

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room.

What the fuck was that.

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.”

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex.

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that.

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him.

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off.

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it.

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve.

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder.

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is.

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win.

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug.

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment.

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.”

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss.

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods.

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back.

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.”

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother.

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her.

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape.

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing.

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it.

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing.

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.”

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.”

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests.

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.”

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-”

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days.

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans.

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously.

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.”

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him.

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.”

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up.

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look.

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.”

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?”

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch.

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing.

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?”

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.”

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm.

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?”

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man.

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.”

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony.

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what.

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say.

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge.

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness.

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes.

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten!

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment.

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little.

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin.

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet.

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City.

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky.

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #detz #sophiana #fitz vacker #biana vacker #sophie foster #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen

44 notes · View notes

puppyexpressions · 4 years ago

Text

Dog Bucket List: 45 Fun Things to Do With Your Dog to Make Him Happy

It’s not for nothing that our furry friends are often referred to as human’s best friend. They’re incredibly loyal, caring and earnest, and their love is unconditional like no other. Thus, it’s only fair we also treat our doggies like they’re our best friends; it’s a spot they’ve rightfully earned, after all. And that means there’s so much more we could be doing together with our dogs to make them (and you) happy beyond the basics. That’s why I have put together this fun bucket list of things to do with your dog, so that you and your furry best friend can get into some awesome dog-friendly activities together!

1. ✧ Stay at a Pet-Friendly Hotel

There are plenty of places where your pooch is welcome to stay, just do a simple search for pet-friendly accommodations. You will find hotels and log cabins, as well as a cottages and cute glamping tents. Pick one and have a memorable getaway with your pup.

2. ✧ Learn a New Trick

Depending on how long you’ve been training him, your pup likely already knows how to play fetch and roll over. Those are just the most basic of tricks that you could teach him though. There is also the army crawl, the salute, and the handstand which can leave other owners impressed once your doggy has mastered them.

3. ✧ Dress Up for Halloween

Halloween can be a fun holiday to enjoy together with your pup. The stores are bursting with simple costumes for dogs, like different kinds of cute headbands that’ll easily transform them into a dog-dragon or the like for the night. A quick search for dog costumes on Amazon will pop up a ton of different options as your dog’s costume, such as reindeer ridden by Santa, mail carrier, ghostbuster, dinosaurs, Maleficent, and the list goes on.

And naturally, it is a must to take a million photos of you and your pup in your Halloween outfits for the world to see.

4. ✧ Walk on the Beach

With the summer season well under way, there’s no excuse not to schedule a fun day out frolicking on the sand. There are plenty of dog-friendly beaches around the US that you could visit.

5. ✧ Have a Doggy Birthday Party

You should be able to lookup your pooch’s birthday on his pedigree. But, if your dog is a rescue or doesn’t have an exact birthdate, you can pick a date that’s convenient to you, so he can check off this activity on his dog bucket list. It would be wise to send out your invitations and make the cake early so you won’t end up going crazy over last-minute arrangements.

Don’t forget to buy a cute birthday hat and you can easily bake your own doggie cake with the Wheat-Free Peanut Butter Puppy Cake Mix.

6. ✧ Take Your Dog to Work With You

While not all workplaces allow it, for security, hygiene and other reasons, surprisingly many companies these days allow for their employees to bring their dog to work with them. And why not? A furry friend in the office makes the working day so much more fun and breezy!

Your dog will also enjoy the extra time spent with you, not to mention all the attention they’ll be getting throughout the day from your colleagues who won’t be able to keep their hands off from petting your doggy.

7. ✧ Ride in a Convertible

Just like you, your pup loves to feel the wind in his hair when cruising down the highways. The usual coupe or pickup is boring and confining though, so go on a drive in a convertible instead. Accessorize with cool sunglasses (like the QUMY dog goggles) as you bask in the sun and you will feel like celebrities who have all the time in the world.

8. ✧ Go Shopping Together at a Dog-friendly Store

Shopping no longer has to be an activity that you love to do but need to leave your furry bestie home for! Although certain stores, such as supermarkets, continue to be quite inaccessible to dogs, a wider range of stores accepting dogs, outside of pet shops, are beginning to arise all over. Just check online before you get going on your epic shopping trip!

9. ✧ Stand Up Paddle Board

If you haven’t already noticed, a stand-up paddle board just happens to fit more than one person, you can easily have room for a smaller sized dog. Honestly, teaching your pet to SUP may be one of the more challenging things to do on this list, but in the end it’ll be so much fun to paddle down a scenic river or on a smooth lake.

10. ✧ Do a Police Car Ride Along

Another one for extra special dog activities–for both you and the dog–is to go on a ride along in a police car. It can’t get much more exciting than that! It’s also totally safe to do, giving you a ton of first hand insight on what it’s actually like to be a police officer for a day.

11. ✧ Play Frisbee

If your dog already knows how to fetch a stick or a ball, it can be easy to advance a level with a Frisbee. Though Fido might have some difficulty with catching a flying disc at first, this is one thing to do with your dog that will require a little patience.

You can easily find a frisbee on Amazon, but the KONG Classic Flyer is one of the best-rated across the board.

12. ✧ Sleep on the Bed

Sleeping on the bed can be such a treat for your pooch, but don’t give into the temptation too much or they won’t sleep in their own dog bed! Some dogs will even chew up their beds so that they can spend more time on your bed—a very smart trick. Everybody knows that having your pooch lie in your bed with you is one of the best feelings in the world for you (and him), but once they start snoring, it might be time to kick them out of the bedroom!

13. ✧ Watch the Puppy Bowl

As tempting as it might be to switch the channel to watch your favorite American football teams going at each other, Super Bowl Sunday is the best time for you to binge-watch the Puppy Bowl with your pooch. Not only will you see puppies, but also other cute animal “tweeters” and “commentators”. You never know, you might find that squealing at fluffy furballs is a more enjoyable annual thing to do than screaming at sweaty athletes.

14. ✧ Have Breakfast in Bed

Is it your pup’s birthday? Or perhaps just a rainy and gloomy morning where you could both use a little pick me up? Having breakfast in bed together, all the while cuddling and maybe catching something comforting on the TV, sounds like a great way to treat yourself – and your pupper!

If you’re skilled with your hands and in the kitchen, try to whip up a breakfast that looks like you’re both having the same thing, but will be totally safe for your furry friend to eat. Some ideas for a dog friendly breakfast are cauliflower muffin bites, pancake puffs or these mini omelettes. Perhaps you’d like to enjoy the same treats for your breakfast – or at least the human version of them?

15. ✧ Take a Nap Together

Although a simple activity, apart from a good and long walk around the neighborhood, this is what you and your pup will love to do together the most! If possible, why not make it a regular thing even? It’s such an excellent way for both of you to recharge your batteries mid-day. So cuddle up and get to snoozing!

16. ✧ Visit a Nursing Home

There’s no denying the fact that playing with dogs can be therapeutic, especially to those who live in nursing homes. This is because friendly canines can encourage residents to leave the confines of their room and to recover faster from surgery or a stroke. Watching the older generation having fun with your pet is always worth the effort of driving to your nearest care home and it will be such a rewarding thing to do for everyone.

17. ✧ Eat a Gourmet Meal

I have eaten many incredible meals at memorable restaurants in my lifetime, but finding a restaurant that serves gourmet meals for dogs can be a challenge. Sometimes, it would be better off to prepare the food yourself, which should be fairly easy to do. There are several delicious dog friendly recipes on the web that can be easy to make, like peanut butter cookies, gourmet whole wheat dog biscuits and chicken jerky.

18. ✧ Have a Steak Dinner

If breakfast in bed sounds like it could get messy or complicated really quick, you can’t go wrong with a steak dinner. And since your dog actually can eat the same dish as you this time around—though they may prefer it on the raw side—it’s an especially fun ‘date night’ between you and your best friend. Your doggie doesn’t need much more than a juicy hunk of meat to feel special and loved, and you’ll love to share a good steak with them, too.

19. ✧ Get a Doggy Massage

You’re not the only one who can benefit from a trip to the spa every once in a while; your canine friend can too! Many owners believe that a doggy massage can help to provide strengthened immunity, increased circulation, stress relief and improved digestion in their pets. You may not be able to get him a Thai massage, but definitely something more gentle will be available for your deserving best friend. So, schedule an appointment with your nearest animal massage parlor today to give your pup a well-deserved break after a hard day at the park of learn how to massage your dog yourself.

20. ✧ Get a ‘Pawicure” (AKA: Doggie Manicure)

Unlike us humans, our dogs probably don’t appreciate getting their nails cut as much as we do. But if you make an event of it, you might survive through it with less hassle. Google around for shops in your local area where you can go get a pawicure at, or follow these instructions to pamper and groom your pup from the comfort of your home. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to treat yourself to a mani-pedi as well!

21. ✧ Play Hide n’ Seek

Well, a dog friendly version of hide n’ seek, at least! Your pup may not understand the rules of the original hide and seek, but if you play it in a way that your dog can enjoy and easily follow the rules, you’ll both end up having a great time.

In the dog friendly version, instead of ordering your dog to go hide, or hiding yourself, you’ll hide his or hers favorite toy. Start with easy hiding spots and, as your pet gets the gist, you can increase the difficulty of where you hide the toy.

22. ✧ Play in the Leaves

Cleaning up your yard from the fallen leaves just got a whole lot more fun with the pup joining in on the game. You might not get a lot of actual work done, but you’ll get plenty of laughter out of it! And if you don’t have a yard, find a park or equivalent where there’ll be leaves to play around in.

23. ✧ Play Sock Tug-of-War

Got a pair of socks to spare? Tug-of-War is a fun game that you’ll be able to enjoy together, and you don’t even need to let your pup win! All you need are some socks that have seen their best days. You can play either with one simple sock, or you can use your socks to build a homemade version of a tug toy. If you don’t have some old socks, get him a squeaky sock monkey instead.

24. ✧ Be the Star in a Dog Calendar

Lots of organizations make calendars where owners can proudly display their pooches. The requirements for getting your pet in on the action can vary from place to place. Some clubs make it a contest to find suitable cover dogs while others are willing to print submissions. With companies like Shutterfly it’s also possible to create your own calendar with your favorite photos.

25. ✧ Swim in the Ocean

If Rover doesn’t already know how to swim, now is the best time for you to teach him. To make the training process easier and safer, make the necessary preparations such as providing clean water to drink, bringing a flotation vest, and establishing rest areas with a lot of shade. Start in a shallow part of the water then just coax him in farther with a toy or a treat. Using a positive tone of voice and giving lots of verbal praise can go a long way too. The Teaching Your Dog to Swim video with help you out!

26. ✧ Warm Up in Front of the Fire

This is an ultimate way for a human to cozy up on a cold evening, especially after a few hours spent outdoors getting your cheeks red in chilly weather. But you can count on your pooch to enjoy it every bit as much as you; the heat of the burning flames will warm him up, too, and it’s a great moment to spend together with you. Lay a towel, mat or a blanket on the floor, sit down and instruct your pup to come sit next to you, then wrap another blanket around the both of you, and enjoy some relaxing time together.

27. ✧ Play in the Sprinklers

Owning a lawn can do more than just boost the curb appeal of your home. It also gives you plenty of opportunities to frolic with the furballs, particularly when you have a sprinkler system installed. Take note though that some doggies find it more interesting to chew, bite or dig your sprinklers so you might want to buy a few sprinkler toys, like an inflatable shallow pool sprinkler or the crazy Tidal Storm Hydro spinning sprinkler that will have him entertained for hours!

28. ✧ Play With Your Favorite Toy Together

Every pup has a toy that they love and adore more than any other. It may be one that the doggy can enjoy playing with by herself, but it’s also one of the easiest things to do with your dog – and she’ll totally love having a buddy to pay with!

29. ✧ Have a Doggie Play Date

If you’ve noticed that your pup seems to want playmates of his own species, you can find him one by setting up play dates with other people’s pooches. This shouldn’t be a problem when you know a few pet owners in your area, but if you don’t you can search for one in dog parks or at doggy daycares. Should you decide to meet outside of those places, do it in neutral territory as you don’t want to end up having to break up any fights.

30. ✧ March in a Parade

Did you know that, especially around the holidays, there are dog parades arranged all around the country? How much fun does that sound like?! Your pup will get to don a costume and you’ll have a blast walking in the crowds, making new friends, both human and the four-legged kind. As parades are quite hectic, you may want to do some preparing and training with the pupper to get ready for the big day and have it go over smoothly and successfully.

31. ✧ Romp Around in the Snow

Although the winter time may feel cold and uncomfortable for going out for walks, there’s plenty of fun that can be had when there’s some snow on the ground. You’ll likely get to take the lead, but your pup will have the best time romping and jumping around in the snow with you, especially if you live in a region where you regularly get loads of it.

32. ✧ Hike a National Park

Generally, pets are permitted in National Parks (check each ones website to be sure!) but they typically have to be restrained on a leash not exceeding 6 feet in length. There are several reasons behind this NPS policy but the main point is to protect your dog along with park resources. To avoid any mishaps, remember to maintain proper trail etiquette including observing the rules for the right-of-way.

33. ✧ Have a Social Media Fanpage

You’ve probably heard of Boo the Pomeranian who has over 17 million fans on Facebook. Just like him, your pooch can become a social media superstar too! Start by taking lots of fun photos of your furry pal and post them on Twitter, Pinterest or Instagram. Or possibly even start a travel blog for your dog, but make sure you don’t make the beginning blogging mistakes I did! Take note to update the page on a regular basis and if there’s a high cuteness factor you should see the list of followers grow.

34. ✧ Take a Picture with Santa

A bit of a controversial opinion to some, but as a dog owner, at least one reading through this list, you definitely think of them as part of your family. Specifically, as one of the youngsters in the household. And therefore, getting a picture of the pup with Santa becomes a memory you’ll want to have and to keep!

35. ✧ Attend the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show

There is no better way to show off your amazing canine friend than by having him join this prestigious dog show. Apparently, cuteness alone won’t cut it in the big leagues though so you have to focus on improving other aspects such as cosmetic features and structure. This gives you all the more reason to drop by the animal spa every now and then, doesn’t it?

36. ✧ Try Something New Together

New ways to spend time together with our puppies keeps being thought of, so there will be plenty for you to choose from and try out to find the activities you and your dog will enjoy. Have you ever gone roller blading together? Or tried out dog yoga? Search Google a bit for some suggestions, possibly even list down all the best sounding ideas, and get started on trying out those new things to do with your dog!

37. ✧ Go on a Picnic

Some days you just want to relax rather than chase after Fido. The problem is that it’s highly unlikely that your pet will want to stay still for a long period of time. A picnic is the best way for you to meet in the middle. As he romps around in the grass, you can chow on some cake and roll on the blanket.

38. ✧ Dine on the Patio of a Dog Friendly Restaurant

When the weather gets great, you’ll want to meet with your friends for some great brunch or dinner on a gorgeous patio of one of your favorite restaurants. What about, if the restaurant is also a dog friendly spot, you took your pup with you the next time? It’ll be a fun experience and memory for both of you to have, and if it goes well you might want to even make it a regular thing, perhaps with just the two of you.

39. ✧ Go Camping

Want to embark on a camping adventure in the wild but don’t want to leave Spot behind? No problem-just bring him along! That is, if he is trained well enough to handle the activity. If he barks a lot or tends to snatch food from other people, you will want to rethink your camping plans.

The How to Camp With Your Dog article will help to get you wilderness ready, and the check out these pet friendly campgrounds around the world.

40. ✧ Be an Extra in a Movie

Whether it’s just your pretty pup, or the both of you together, it’s surprisingly easy to find a spot for an extra in a movie (or a TV show). It’s also rather easy and simple thing to do, so there’s no need to worry about how to be an extra in a movie or that it’d be too much for the pup to handle. Instead, it could be quite fun and will serve as a unique opportunity and activity – and not just to you but to the doggy as well!

41. ✧ Go to a Dog Park

It can be a whole lot of fun to get your furry friend to socialize with other pets at a dog park. However, you need to have established a calm-assertive leadership over him by then. With this, along with remaining vigilant, you can rest assured that your dog will not become a fight magnet. For an extra addition to you dog park bucket list visit these 10 Amazing Dog Parks You Need to See in Your Lifetime.

42. ✧ Take a Boat Ride

Now that you’re done swimming in the ocean, you’ll want to drop by a lake too for a ride on a boat. But you have to realize that not all dogs may enjoy the experience. What you need to do is get him acclimated to the boat before the trip to minimize his distress about not having his feet planted on solid ground.

43. ✧ Take Obedience Classes

Even if your pup isn’t quite as bad as Marley from Marley & Me, no harm will come from taking some obedience classes. In fact, it may teach you things about your dog on a new level. And, additionally, it will also be of aid in committing to the other dog activities on this bucket list, with the pup as obedient and polished as can be.

44. ✧ Do Doga (Dog Yoga)

Now that you’ve ticked massages off the dog bucket list, you should also give doga a go. Though you may not be able to find a doggy yoga retreat and hot Bikram yoga is out of the question, doga is not limited to just doing a variety of poses together. It may also include eye-gazing to enhance the human-canine bond. Overall, it’s an experience that can help both of you to relax.

45. ✧ Eat a Doggy Ice Cream

OK, maybe you won’t want to switch to eating doggy ice cream yourself and instead stick to your regular flavors of Ben & Jerry’s. But thanks to the great creation of doggy ice cream, your beloved pup can now join in on enjoying the icy treat together with you. You can find sometimes find doggy ice cream at the freezer section of the supermarket, or you might want to try your own hand at making some?

These fun dog activities should definitely keep you busy and active with some of the best things to do with your dog. Try them out to see what makes him or her happiest, then you can keep repeating and rotating between the best ones! Most of all, have a blast going through this bucket list together with your best friend!

#dog bucket list

4 notes · View notes

aiweirdness · 5 years ago

Text

Bigger than before! A larger neural net tries to write fanfiction

I’ve done several experiments with GPT-2, a neural net that OpenAI trained on millions of pages from the internet. OpenAI has been releasing the neural net in stages, with the second-biggest model, 774M, just recently released. I decided to put it through its paces. Last week’s experiment, where I generated new XFL team names? Merely a warmup challenge. This week’s task is fanfiction.

Unlike the experiments where I trained neural nets from scratch on Harry Potter fanfiction summaries, I didn’t do any special training of 774M, just used talktotransformer.com to prompt it with the opening line of a scene. To up the challenge (and to make it more interesting), each of the prompts (in bold) introduces a new crossover or puts a character in a situation that hopefully it hasn’t already seen too often in online fanfic.

Hermione pushed frantically at the controls of the spaceship.

"We have to take this ship out of service!" she shouted, pushing the controls.

Harry Potter stepped forward, his face contorted, and pointed his wand at the controls and the ship.

"Fire! Fizzle! Burn!"

The control fires suddenly started being foggled by the magic, the ship starting to rise up from the ground and then it was off.

verdict: impressive! knows this is the Harry Potter universe, displays a basic understanding of what spaceships and wands do, and even makes a convincing attempt at magic incantations.

Kylo Ren glared at Han Solo from his bedroom doorway. His hair was completely white and his eyes were black.

The young smuggler took a breath and turned his head to face Kylo Ren. His eyes were focused on Han. Kylo Ren was very tall (at least 6′11″) and extremely muscular. His face was covered in a large beard. From his voice, it seemed like Kylo Ren was not his real father and he was the illegitimate one. Kylo Ren was very smart and was able to use the Force to his advantage. In the same way, Han Solo was always talking to other people and was not even aware of his own existence. He had never been exposed to the light side nor the dark side as it were. Because of how well Kylo Ren could communicate with the dark side of the Force, he was able to manipulate Han when he was feeling down. Han, himself, was a Jedi Knight who would learn the dark side first.

verdict: was this written by Kylo Ren? The AI definitely knows this is supposed to be Star Wars fanfic, but it doesn’t always seem to know exactly who the characters are. The fact that it DOES stick with the same characters for even this long is impressive.

Darth Vader glowered at the cupcake batter, spoon in hand. Lumpy, lumpy... why was the batter always so lumpy? Ahhh... why was he always being so... why was he even here in the first place?!

"You're the one with the chocolate, kid," said the voice. All around him, there was a flurry of people moving their heads in the hopes of finding one who could help them in the dark, to no avail. The cupcake batter was too thin and the butter too thick. Too thin, yet too thick... too thick!

"Why is the butter so thin?!" cried one of the few that didn't seem to have noticed, and this was no help, for the cake batter was so thick it was almost un-cakey (and just looking at it made me want to break all of the cake into tiny pieces). "Why aren't there any pieces in the pan!"

"And no crumbs falling out. There's too many layers!"

verdict: most text-generating neural nets would have drifted in focus by now. But 774M is still here, thinking of new ways that cakes can go wrong. Speaking of cakes…

Mary Berry's Victoria Sandwich Cake

Ingredients: 225 g (8 oz) softened butter 225 g (8 oz) caster sugar 4 large eggs 225 g (8 oz) self-raising flour 2 level tsp baking powder 2 x 20cm (8in) greased and lined sandwich tins

How to make: Combine the butter, sugar and flour in a large mixing bowl. In a separate medium bowl, mix the eggs with the self-raising flour and water just until combined. Sift in the water, the icing toffee and the vanilla extract. Chill for 30 minutes. Once chilled, fold the dry mix into the wet mixture, beating well after each fold. Roll out the dough into a 14cm (5in) circle, trimming the centre to create a triangle. Cut out the triangles from the center but leave some space around the base for the filling. Cut 3 triangles each from the edges. Brush the triangles with buttercream. Roll each of the triangles again into a circle, making sure not to wrap completely around the base. Cut into 12 triangles again. Brush the triangles with buttercream again. Roll each one into a 3.5cm (1in)(6.3cm) circle. Cut into 12 more triangles and brush with buttercream. Roll each one into a circle again, making sure not to wrap completely around the base. Cut into 12 more triangles and brush with buttercream. Fold one over the other. Brush with buttercream. Fold one over the other. Brush with buttercream. Cut each triangle into 3 triangles, brush with buttercream and trim one last triangle. Cut three lengths of the triangle in half, brush with buttercream and trim one more triangle. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into 1 more segment. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into 3 segments. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into 1 more segment. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into a full length. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into a final segment. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into 1 more segment. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into a final segment. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles into a final segment. Brush with buttercream and trim the triangles…

verdict: the neural net will not be winning the Great British Bakeoff Technical Challenge anytime soon. i would like to see a video of this recipe being made. The next prompt is a preview of the subject of my next blog post.

Harry threw down his crochet hooks in frustration. The hat just wouldn't turn out properly, no matter how hard he tried. Harry wasn't sure how much longer he would keep up the habit.

Forcing his thoughts back into the present, Harry sighed and pulled the hat off his head. He was glad that the hat was so small, because he knew he wouldn't be able to wear it for the length of time he had planned.

He looked around his house for something to wear. He found a thin woolen jacket and pulled it over his head. Although still not nearly the long enough to cover his ears, it would be enough. He took his shoes off and placed them in his shoe box. He could wear his socks now, they hadn't grown out of hand. He threw on his glasses and went outside.

verdict: I didn’t specify that this is Harry Potter, so fair enough. While sticking creditably with the theme of items of clothing, the AI displays a perhaps shaky grasp of just how they work.

Subscribers get bonus content: I generated more of these than would fit in this blog post. It’s kind of hard to stop, actually.

My book You Look Like a Thing and I Love You is now available for preorder! It comes out November 5.

Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

#neural networks #gpt-2 #gpt-2-774M #fanfic #harry potter #british bakeoff #recipes

1K notes · View notes

theyearsiturnedintoaghost · 3 years ago

Text

Hello, Is This Thing On?

Hi! (as mentioned above). Do people still use this thing? I have no idea. Years ago, and I do mean YEARS ago, I had one of these. I didn’t use it for much, just reposting things, following humans I’d met in online communities, a ‘celebrity’ here or there, sometimes screaming about shit I couldn’t control into the void that is the endless scrolling interweb, and being pointless in wasting my time between classes, work, and twenty-something. Regardless, my previous tumblr had minimal followers, made minimal impact, and that was okay. It was honestly just a nice place to sort of hide in plain sight. Still be part of a social world without actually having to do much. This was also pre a billion other apps and social media outlets to express yourself or scroll mindlessly at a million other pointless things that people were posting to make you giggle or even just stop for a second and think.

Clearly, the point of this, back then, felt like something I would use to help propel my writing career. Turns out, it did not. I did not write much, if at all. And most of the time I think it was because I was scared nothing was as good as any of the other stuff I was reading from people I liked, and thought were so much cooler and smarter than me; I still feel this way all of the time, but I do realize this was me being nervous, small minded about myself, and completely unconfident.

Unfortunately, I am still most of these things a lot of the time, but recently, after getting fired from a job, having my heart broken by pretty much everyone on the planet, especially a few specific people, cancelled by all of my friends (?) - this is a thing btw. (It’s not as awful as being cancelled publicly, but it does still ruin your life, mindset, confidence, and overall physical and mental wellbeing) Getting a new job, hating it and feeling like I was going no where, and missing out on living a life I felt proud of and that I was actively participating in, I decided maybe I should just try to write it all out and see what happens.

To be frank, I expect nothing of this. I can’t fathom a world where anything I have to say truly matters to people because lets be real - everyone has this own shit and everyone is going through so much all of the time. And we all think we have something new, quirky, interesting, and important to say. And in a world that constantly shoves perfection down our throats and works so hard to make each of us feel completely inadequate to every Kardashian, Beyonce, Grande, etc., it’s hard to really think that anything I have to say will matter to anyone; at all.

(I also hate that all of my ‘perfectionist’ people were female, but maybe it’s harder to compare to Golden Boys when you are a female. Either way, there are many boys/men/theys/thems that are put on a pedestal and made out to be perfect out there, as well, and they deserve that notation as well. I just have no points of reference off the top of my head, so please forgive me; I am trying to do this in a stream of consciousness type thing.)

I mean, the truth is, I’m a fucking mess. I’m 33, single, living at home, afraid of my own shadow most of the time, and spend about 98% of my time alone. I pay for a phone plan that I literally only use to send memes to my two sisters, and that’s about it. I rarely receive texts, invites out, or even calls to make plans for something. And while a lot of this is my own doing - again, I did cut off most of the world after I realized I was sort of the joke to a lot of people - it’s still kind of pathetic, and entirely uncool. I am not a socialite, or someone cool and trendy, and to be honest, I kind of never want to be.

Which is a semi-false statement, because years ago, when I had one of these previously, I sort of hoped it would work out and that I could write and be ‘cool.’ Whatever the fuck that means. But now, years later, I’m honestly beyond glad I am not cool; not in the slightest. Maybe that’s making it to your 30s? Maybe the trade for having to create a daily routine of lathering up my body with like 9 different versions of FDA-Approved-Vampire-Juice on my skin to prevent me from looking any older than I already do, you in turn get to have a brain that finally realizes... having a ‘normal’ life is honestly pretty cool? Normal is clearly subjective here as everyone is normal, famous, notoriety, or not; They’re all still humans and people with feelings, thoughts, and emotions. This is a hard thing to realize when you see stadiums full of people screaming at Harry Styles (Boom! found a male perfect in this scatterbrain) or hundreds of paparazzi lined up to take photos of every person on a red carpet wearing clothing that costs as much as my student loan debt (Which sidenote, is VERYYYYYY much). It’s hard to fully realize that maybe some of those people who became ‘icons’ never really knew what they were getting into when they signed that deal with the Devil to make them seemingly immortal; especially in a world with the internet where everything can exist forever (or until the world explodes, clearly). But maybe getting into my 30s and removing myself from most social media outlets, even listening to the news, or caring about whatever fucking popular haircut was in this season (it’s always bangs, and I’ve already made that mistake. No thanks), that I learned to realize - the truly most important people in your life are the ones that stick with you when it’s tough. When getting out of bed is so hard your limbs ache and you cry every morning on your way to work, at your desk behind your computer screen hidden in a corner, or in a bathroom stall during your lunch break. The normalcy that comes with realizing your prayers to ‘just make it to five o’clock,’ are heard and that you are just so thankful for that that you don’t even desire the innate feeling in most of our egos to stand out, be seen, ‘Make it’ in a way that lets people notice we ‘succeeded.’ Maybe this only comes with the realization of how nice it is to go to a grocery store braless and unnoticed.

Maybe this is also something I, and so many of us in this point and shoot viral world, are trying to still learn.

Sure, a lot of days I still crave being able to make a perfect Pintrest project, practice my Late Night interview with Letterman where I sound funny, charming, and likeable to all walks of life, or recreate a recipe from the New York Times website so great that The Barefoot Contessa finds out through word of mouth, and comes to my basement hide out, and offers to give me, a fellow barefoot loving bitch, her title and crown along with a glass of wine and a kiss from her husband, Jeffery. We’ll both laugh at how lovely it feels to be Barefoot ladies who understand that wanting ‘fame’ or ‘recognition’ in your twenties is only really a pathway to destruction by your 30s.

And this is not exactly something that I learned easy. In fact, I spent most of my twenties destroying my body with drugs - plenty of hard ones - and alcohol - various kinds of the same things - in order to numb my brain from the sadness that is just... being young, lonely, scared, unsure of yourself, and nervous that all of your hopes and expectations for yourself in your ‘dream life’ are too much for what you and your actual self will ever be capable of ever becoming. That I would never become the comedian I dreamed of being, or sing the perfect song in front of a crowd of admirers, or write that best selling book to tell everyone who thought I was nothing they could go fuck themselves. It’s something I still have to remind myself, and my brain and ego, that are most likely things I will never do because those are lottery dreams. And people you know don’t actually win the lottery. And at the end of the day, I am people you know. And sometimes it breaks my own heart to realize I may never feel that rush of making a crowd laugh, or creating a piece of art that makes someone feel seen, but as Pam, from The Office said, and I am paraphrasing, ‘there is beauty in ordinary things.’ And I think reminding myself of that as I sat on the beach this summer and watched a dad teach his son to surf, and how happy they both were when he got up, gave me that brief feeling of... being okay. I won’t lie, I did cry a little at this realization at that moment, and I am slightly teary now as I write it, but I think I’m not ashamed of that because being normal means I get to feel things as I do, in that moment, and that is something I think I lacked in my desiring-bigger-flashier- twenties; actually being present in the world and your place in it. Even if that is just as small as being kind to a random person on the street.

I think that is why everything I felt I wanted to write never came out correct. It never came out ‘Perfect.’ And that was my problem for most of my life, even up until today, I’m afraid that I am a perfectionist in the ways that are preventing me from becoming... me. I’m still fearful that I am too late in ever ‘accomplishing’ anything I ever dreamed. I doubt I will ever actually write a book. I’m unsure I’ll ever make a decent living. I am beyond doubtful I am ever going to be loveable to someone whom I also want to love back. And maybe I’m a little scared that I’ll never have a kid, or that if I do have a kid, I’ll never be a decent parent. And I’m still working on breaking the cycle of thinking something has to ‘sound’ or ‘be seen as important’ to be meaningful. There is beauty in the ordinary. I’ve started to make it my mantra. Spoken in my head every time I see a teenage couple holding hands walking in town, a father holding their baby close to his chest, a woman dressed in a power suit striding through an office building or city on their way to make their own careers or push equality further. I’ve started to dream of how actual normalcy makes the real changes. How every 4th grade teacher has a chance to change some kids life.

Clearly, a lot of these personal fears I have about myself not being ‘enough,’ or doing something good enough to become successful at it and build a life out of it, are monotonous fears and privileged middle-class complaints. I’m aware they may not resonate with anyone, anything, or mean much more than just being an online public diary entry to my own meandering thoughts, but, still - I finally felt like I had to try.

So here it is, the whole truth on how I let myself become a ghost for years.

I hope someone will stick around while I just... try to explain it all, figure it all out, and hopefully make sense out of even being whatever a human who is hoping to grow even means. Hopefully, something here will resonate with someone else and we can create our own little weirdo corner of the world where we’re not seeking more than just trying to be honest with ourselves and what it means to be human. Even if that means just posting a recipe for banana bread (thank you Gwen Steffani for keeping me able to spell Banana), reposting random memes about how we all want to scream for 30 seconds and feel better, or sad-girl diary entry posts about how I ruined my own life a million times over. Oh, and maybe I’ll give you tips on how to stain your wood deck, because I spent my day doing that yesterday and basically, Home Depot is calling me to be in their ADs.

But at the core of it all, lets be very real, it’s hard to be human in so many ways. And I’m just hoping this connects with anyone. Especially any of us who wished we were different - in any way.

xoxo

-K

1 note · View note

douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years ago

Text

THE COURAGE OF PRODUCTS

Although a lot of money to keep it. They're the skiers who ski on the diamond slopes. But other considerations can outweigh the advantages of young founders are. Some are fit only for entry level jobs, but others are ready to rule the world. It's not unheard of for VCs to meet you when they have no intention of funding you, just to pick your brain for a competitor. The most famous example is probably Steve Wozniak, who originally wanted to build microcomputers for his then-employer, HP. I mean the structure of the calculation. Asking whether you're default alive or default dead, but we're counting on investors to save us. One of my most vivid memories from our startup is going to visit Greylock, the famous Boston VCs. The trends we've been seeing are probably not YC-specific. To the extent there is a peloton of younger startups behind them. It was supposed to come up with surprising new ideas.

Some popular magazines feature articles of this type on the cover of every issue. They're bolder because they know what they're doing on that computer, you'll find that everyone else still shares, you're in a job that feels safe, you are getting together with a group of other people who also want to look at the employment agreement you sign when you get hired. Even hackers can't tell. From that point, all Microsoft had to do was play hardball with licensees and copy more innovative products reasonably promptly. There were a lot of small, inexpensive computers before the Mac. A third and quite significant advantage of angel rounds is that they're often made by people working at home on their own startup is probably going to be an artist, which is the same thing as money. If it is possible to make yourself into a great hacker except by working with him, hackers themselves can't tell how good they are. They were invented by McCarthy in the course of developing Lisp. Start small. Startups hurt themselves way more often than not it makes it harder. In fact, this is part of what makes them gripping also makes them irrelevant.

If one person gets more, someone else has to get less. I propose the following solution: instead of starting to ask too late whether you're default alive or default dead. That's a big change from the recipe for winning in the past century. Boston, it's even more true of every other city. Apparently when Robert first met him, Trevor had just begun a new scheme that involved writing down everything about every aspect of his life on a stack of index cards, which he carried with him everywhere. And they will. Which means for a group of people are never able to act as if they were paid a huge amount, or if the domain was interesting and none of the local farmers wants one, how will this sound to investors? There is one other job besides sales where big companies can hire first-rate people: in the top management jobs.

And, like Microsoft, they're losing. Was it that Europeans are somehow racially superior? Startups are not magic. I need to give an example of a big company—and that scale of improvement can change social customs. But they're not so advanced as they think; obviously they still view office space as a badge of rank. There may well be something that does, but if you could read the minds of the consumers, you'd find these factors were all blurred together. And finally, if a good investor has committed to fund you if you try to raise money. But the superficial ugliness of Perl is not the main thing they want. No doubt Bill did everything he could to steer IBM into making that blunder, and he has done an excellent job of exploiting it, but to write a spec for it, but if you could, I don't mean to suggest by this comparison that types of work that depend more on talent are always more admirable. Though, frankly, the fact that he has to do if you're not. Which means investors will get less stock and less control.

Working for yourself doesn't have to advertise. And fortunately at least two of these three qualities can be cultivated. We would have much preferred a 100% chance of $1 million to a 20% chance of $10 million, even though theoretically the second is worth twice as much. Get into the habit of thinking of software as having users. Industrialization didn't spread much beyond those regions for a while. The whole shape of deals is changing. If you're free of a misconception that everyone else, including your family and friends, will discard all the low bits and regard you as having a single occupation at any given moment he may need to be in a situation with two things, measurement and leverage. You please or annoy customers wholesale. And being a boss is also horribly frustrating; half the time: it's hard to predict which startups will succeed. I'd become so used to publishing online that the old method now seemed alarmingly unreliable, like navigating by dead reckoning once you'd gotten used to a GPS.

I was supposed to come up with as a technologist in residence. The third big lesson we can learn from open source and blogging? They don't want to abandon. And the second could probably be condensed into two words: give up. Most founders doing series A deals would prefer to take half as much stock, and then see what valuation they could get for the second half of the money to buy ads on Yahoo to promote their brand. This talk was written for an audience of investors. They allow measurement because they're small, and they asked what should we do? There seem to be most productive when they're paid in proportion to the size of the tree structure that every large organization is forced to adopt. You can see how dependent you've become on something by removing it suddenly. From what I've read about hunter-gatherers have much more freedom. If by the next time you need to get as much of your life you devote to your work. If you plan to get rich, and this is critically important for startups.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, Maria Daniels, Sam Altman, Jessica Livingston, Jackie McDonough, and the friends I promised anonymity to for their feedback on these thoughts.

1 note · View note

pippki-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Viral Modern-Style Wrestler in an Existential Reduction

NOTES: One of my friends got me to join an e-fed, and even though I know nearly nothing about wrestling, I do feel confident in my ability to write fairly entertaining nonsense. And I’d love to share that nonsense with you lot too!

(All characters mine except Ahmya)

(Andre’s appearance is based on Chef Gordon Ramsay. I’m so sorry Chef Ramsay. Here’s your alternate French-American life)

Word Count: ~5K

Viral Modern-Style Wrestler in an Existential Reduction: A Recipe Indirectly Delivered Amongst the Weeds of a Blog Post

For liability reasons, I cannot tell you the name of the restaurant.

Pending the lawsuit, I cannot tell you the name of the wrestler either—but surely you’ve seen the clip online. You know who, and you know where it happened. But you’ve probably only seen the most popular clip, clocking in at less than half of half a minute’s worth of your attention span—millions of views and counting, quick incomprehensible shouting back and forth, and the sound, hard and hollow, of the metal meeting cranium, followed by dozens of high end patrons erupting into an undignified chorus of “OH SHIT!” before the clip cuts out.

Let me serve you the full story, because it is much more delicious than fourteen seconds of infamy.

It was a busy Friday night at one of Indianapolis’s most premiere French restaurants. The kind of place Google warns you about with an excess of dollar signs next to the name, and which requires a certain adherence to sharp attire if you and your reservation want to be united at one of the crisp white tablecloths within.

Chef Andre Poêlon was hard at work in the kitchen. At thirty years old and over three years experience at the restaurant, Andre was a skilled chef de partie specializing as a grillardin, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he moved into the sous chef position. He could fill in at any station in the kitchen and execute every dish flawlessly. Tonight, one of his primary charges was assembling the special—steak tartare.

Not only had the night been busy, but there must have been something in the water, or perhaps the rotation of the moon, that had drawn an unusual breed of difficult clientele out of the woodworks of the city and into the finely appointed chairs of the restaurant where Andre worked. Early in the night, Andre had nearly come out of the kitchen when a stuffy middle-aged woman had been insisting the French onion soup was nothing like how it ought to be made, and how—mon dieu—the Cheesecake Factory made it so much better. The waiter made the mistake of commenting that he didn’t think the Cheesecake Factory even had French onion soup—exactly the wrong sort of thing to utter in the presence of a gauche, nouveau-riche Karen of her ilk.

“ExCUSE m—“

“Perhaps madame would like a different soup? Or no soup entirely? It is no trouble,” the waiter interjected smoothly, realizing his mistake. Just because the customer is less right than a hard left turn, it doesn’t behoove one to let them know it.

“Zut alors, what is wrong with the soup?” Andre asked the waiter as the bowl of it returned to the kitchen.

“The tastes of the woman eating it,” the waiter replied.

Once you get one like that in a night, you brace yourself for more. Idiocy travels in threes and in waves, and comparing haute cuisine to mass-produced slop always put Andre’s teeth on edge. So he was irritated, but not surprised, when later that night a plate of steak tartare came right back into the kitchen almost as soon as it had left.

The waiter set the plate back down in front of Andre, patting the sides of it delicately, amusement and irritation fighting for dominance across his face.

“What?” Andre barked, as the waiter had not yet found the words to explain why he’d brought the dish back.

“It….it is not cooked, chef.”

Andre muttered another swear, low and in French, crossing his arms. “Of course it is not cooked. That is the dish. It is not meant to be cooked.”

“Monsieur ugly angry and might I add, arrogant customer disagrees, chef.”

“You told him what the dish is? What it is supposed to be?”

“Of course.”

Andre scoffed. “Then tell him to order something else. I am not cooking this. The dish is as it should be.”

“He suggested it should be cooked. Um, I will not repeat the exact metaphor he used, but the gist was that it should be cooked until the pink is gone.”

“Non! Sacrilege! I refuse. Tell him to order something else.”

“Yes chef,” replied the waiter, battling down his grin.

Before Andre could even decide what to do with the now surplus steak tartare, the waiter was back, practically vibrating with excitement at getting to deliver news he knew chef Andre would not like.

“He wants the dry-aged filet mignon, chef. Well done. Well well done. Cooked and cooked and cooked some more, darker than dirt, not a hint of pink to it or he’ll send it back.”

“Non!” Andre untied his apron and threw it on the stainless steel prep table. “Let me speak to this man. This is impossible—are you putting ideas in his head? Horrible ideas?”

The waiter raised his palms up defensively. “I am simply telling you what he asked for.”

“Impossible,” muttered Andre, pushing up the white sleeves of his chef’s coat. Who would dare come to a restaurant like this and disrespect the entire meaning of fine dining by suggesting these things? Either the man would be reasoned with, or he would be encouraged to take his uncultured tastes elsewhere. “Take me to him.”

Andre followed the waiter to the dining room, ignoring patrons politely offering him their compliments, his focus entirely zeroed in on the muscled man (I dare not describe him further—the lawsuit, you understand) and his companion at a table across from the kitchen entrance.

“Sir,” Andre began, struggling to varnish his words with a veneer of politeness, “you cannot order this steak in this manner. It is sacrilege, utter sacrilege to cook so fine a cut of meat beyond reason.”

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t order? You got heat, don’cha? A grill? A goddamned oven? Well I got money, and I want this goddamn steak, and I want it cooked to hell and back.”

“Sir,” Andre tried again, his face coloring with anger, “you cannot possibly—“

“Are you the bastard that wouldn’t cook my goddamn steak tar-tar? What the hell are you doing serving raw hamburger meat, I mean damn! Do you even fucking know how to cook?”

“If the clown wanted a cooked hamburger steak,” snapped Andre, his voice raising, fists clenched, “he should have gone to the McDonald’s!”

“WHAT did you just call me?” the wrestler shouted, jumping up from his chair.

“Oh no, no no no,” said the waiter. Though he was quite small and wiry compared to Andre’s 6’2” frame, the waiter overcame both his delight at how horribly the situation had quickly devolved and his severe physical disadvantage to drag Andre back to the kitchen as fast as he could, before any more of a scene could take place.

Unfortunately, the wrestler chose to follow them both.

Andre stumbled in through the doors to the kitchen as the waiter turned back to the wrestler, delicately holding up both hands to ward the larger man off.

“Please sir, you can’t come in here—“

“The HELL I can’t!”

The wrestler pushed the waiter aside and went for the kitchen doors, but Andre was ready. Before the wrestler could follow in after, Andre shoved him hard with a shoulder, sending the wrestler lurching back into the dining room. Time began to stretch and narrow as Andre clocked the murderous intent in the wrestler’s eyes at being denied what he wanted. Danger prickled at every sense, and Andre looked wildly around him for anything he could use as a weapon.

There, within arm’s reach—a weighty, cast-iron skillet. Andre grabbed it and followed the wrestler back out of the kitchen. Patrons began to twist in their seats at the disturbance. The wrestler roared, lunging for Andre.

“I AM GOING TO END YOU YOU GODDAMN LITTLE—“

“ENCULE TOI SALAUD!” Andre yelled, swinging the heavy pan two handed and with all his might to hit with a heavy, resounding boom.

This is all the part you’ve already seen. Dozens of high-end, well-dressed members of the upper crust of Indianapolis practically jumping from their seats, letting loose their resounding echo of “OH SHIT” as the metal met the man, and the man met the cool hardwood planks of the restaurant floor. A one-hit knockout.

“Oh merde,” Andre breathed, praying he hadn’t killed the man, as someone screamed for someone else to call an ambulance. He clutched the skillet in wide-eyed shock at what he’d done, and didn’t hear any of the excited chatter in the dining room as the waiter pulled him back into the kitchen.

“Oh my god. People are going to love this.”

What the people of the internet love and what the owner of a high-end restaurant loves are very different things when it comes to a frying-pan wielding chef knocking out a patron.

Andre was lucky he didn’t kill the man.

Andre was lucky not to find himself under arrest, when the ambulance came with police officers in tow. Of course officers came, an assault had occurred here, and they made a jarring presence among the genteel high-class atmosphere of the restaurant, their hands resting on their holsters, the reassurance of greater, state-sanctioned violence a sufficient deterrent from anyone hoping to start anything else.

Andre was lucky the wrestler saw dollar signs on a grander scale, rather than seeking to press charges. Andre was lucky the wrestler saw anything at all, with a concussion like that. Andre hardly protested as the police questioned him, clutching his apron in his hands and moving slowly in their presence. He’d had too many run-ins with the gendarmerie in his youth—part of why his father had sent him away from the arrondissements of Paris to live with his mother in Indiana in the first place, years ago now. Less trouble dans les États Unis, surely. What did Indiana have? Corn? Surely hard to get himself in trouble in flat, empty spaces full of soybeans and corn.

Ah, if his father could see what happened now.

(He would, in time. Est-il ton fils??? the neighbors would ask, and watch Mr. Poêlon clutch his phone in horror, whispering mon dieu, Andre, non, non, pourquoi?)

But as the police questioned him, Andre said little, the waiter instead jumping to his defense with an animated and only mildly embellished retelling of events, complete with grand hand gestures that might have set the officers on edge if the waiter hadn’t been such a small and wiry lad. But even without being arrested, Andre had brought disgrace upon the restaurant. This would not do. There was no excuse to save him, and so, faster than you can swing a frying pan, he found himself out of a job.

It’s important to look like you know what you’re doing. Especially if you don’t. You can get away with a hell of a lot if you look and act like you belong. Andre certainly knew what he was doing, but anyone who looked at him for more than a minute would realize he didn’t belong. He was wearing a black polo shirt, but that wasn’t a Denny’s logo on the arm—that was a post-it note stapled on. He was wearing an apron, but it was inside out—probably to minimize the silver embroidery on the chest that, backwards or forwards, definitely did not say “Denny’s.” And what he was cooking on the flat top was so far from any part of an All-American Slam that you might not let it in the country even with a passport.

Bread, cheese, ham, cheese, bread, cheese again, and a fried egg on top—nobody asked him to make them a croque madame for breakfast, but surely someone would want it, if they just knew and tasted it then they would understand—

Andre was lost in the sauce (not literally, as he didn’t have the time or the resources immediately at hand to make the bechamel sauce that should have gone with the cheese) and completely absorbed in the act of cooking, in the thought of someone getting to enjoy what he made. He didn’t notice, didn't hear the deep voice bellow, “who the hell—what the hell is this guy doing in my kitchen?! You—you’re that chef! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”

One minute Andre was tapping a spatula on the flat top, all eyes on his creation, and the next minute a very burly fry cook had snatched him bodily by the waist, hurling him away from the kitchen like a sack of bad potatoes. Before Andre could process what was happening, a pair of meaty hands grabbed him again, by his collar and the back of his belt, dragging him through the dining room, over the tiles. Now patrons were whispering, craning in their seats to get a better look.

“Doesn’t he look familiar?”

“Oh my god is that that chef?”

“The smackdown skillet?”

“Sounds tasty, think they’d add that to the menu?”

The fry cook kicked the front door open and threw Andre out onto the parking lot. It was a good thing Andre had been getting used to being thrown around, as this certainly was not the first restaurant he’d repeated this scene in, though merde, the asphalt didn’t get any more forgiving each time. Andre pushed himself off and rolled out of reach.

“Don’t let me catch you in this Denny’s again!”

Andre picked himself up and watched the fry cook go back inside. At least this one hadn’t called the police on him. Andre waited to see if his food would get thrown out the door after him.

“Hey! Ain’t you that cook?”

Andre turned to see a pretty black woman near his own age standing, watching him as she furtively ate from a to-go box at the side of the building. The reason for her discretion was apparent: from the visor around her braids, to her button-down shirt with the pink silk neckerchief tied in a bow, to her apron, she was marked completely with the branding of Waffle House.

“I’m Tayonna. Do you…uh…need a job or something?”

A job. All Andre wanted, more than anything,was to cook.

The concept of the Waffle House is an archetypal American paradox. On the one hand, the Waffle House is a bastion of stability, open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, come hell, high water, or both. Government agencies code their disasters according to how operational the Waffle Houses in a region are, with code red—closed—pretty much indicating apocalyptic ground conditions. On the other hand, every individual Waffle House itself is a vortex of chaos that draws in all manner of tricksters and trouble, especially after midnight.

The Waffle House on East Main near Emerson was no exception to these principles.

Hiring Andre was a no-brainer—he could cook, which was important, but even more important he had a reputation that would hopefully discourage the more violent hoodlums from coming in and starting trouble. Even without the reputation, he was tall, imposing, and had a face that settled naturally into a scowl.

“If trouble ever comes, the panic button’s right here. Just keep your mouth shut and look scary.”

Andre scowled. Trouble? He wasn’t trying to get in more trouble.

“Exactly, just like that.”

Trouble, it turned out, had a tendency to come after the witching hour, and so that was the shift they put Andre on. It took a couple days of getting his hand smacked and the manager cutting through his thoughts with a “didn’t nobody ask you to make that” before Andre mostly—mostly—only made dishes that were ordered.

Thursday crept along into Friday with a lull. The bars hadn’t turned their inebriates out yet, and so the few that wandered in had sought out sweet, syrupy reassurances of their own volition, and not just because they had nowhere else for their drunken asses to go. The booth next to the nearly empty counter had six such specimens squeezed in together, the table covered with as many All-Star Specials as the space would fit. The group of young men spoke loudly, words thickly slurred and laced with so many in-jokes and who knows what jargon that they only made sense to themselves (“but dijoo SEE—“ “dude DUDE from the top rope??” “Lemme see that killerbuster in EXP9 dude”). They kept glancing pointedly at Andre, and he tensed up, wondering if here at last was trouble.

As it turned out, Andre was right. Trouble was here. He was just looking in the wrong direction for it. He had just opened the waffle maker to pour another round of batter in when the diner door clattered open, bell jangling.

“FREEZE! NOBODY MOVE!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Andre saw a hooded, masked figure standing in the doorway, pointing a pistol at the patrons. Andre didn’t have time to think through what he did next—time once again went in all directions, a thousand thoughts crashing down into a split second of instant, gut reaction. With terrible strength Andre pulled so hard on the handle of the waffle iron that it wrenched apart at the hinge. He spun, holding up the little metal shield of it as he did—

—and the would-be robber squeezed the trigger—

—as a deafening crack split the air of the diner—

—the bullet ricocheted off the waffle iron lid, shattering one of the great glass globes across the room—

—and Andre hurled the top of the waffle maker with unerring precision—

Before the attacker could fire another round, the hot and heavy metal of the broken waffle iron crashed into his face, knocking him into the window and taking his consciousness with it. He slumped to the ground.

For a brief, quiet moment, only the tinkling sounds of the last few glass shards tumbling from the broken diner light could be heard. Andre stood in shocked silence. Mon dieu, what had he just done?

The table of intoxicated young men burst into cheers, spilling from their seats to further subdue the unconscious attacker. The manager shakily dialed 911, mumbling to Andre with a nod at the broken waffle maker, “that’s coming out of your paycheck.”

From the gaggle of young men, one cut a stumbling path to the counter and patted Andre triumphantly on the shoulder. He had the air and confidence of being the de facto leader of the group, and wore a black t-shirt emblazoned with a stylized, boxy green L and U set in front of a pyramid of different-colored triangles.

“I knew you were the chef! Skillet McSkillerson,” he drawled.

“Iron chef!” exclaimed the man pinning the criminal’s legs.

“CAST IRON CHEF!” hollered another as he nudged the gun to the other side of the dining room.

“Dude,” the young man in front of Andre continued, “you’ve got moves. You got instincts.” He paused to make a face, putting a hand to his sternum to confer with the contents of his stomach about his dinner and where it wanted to be in the next five minutes. But he was a man of will, and the moment passed without so much as a burp. He offered his hand to Andre. “I’m Toddrick Toddward—“

Two of his companions from the floor erupted in a full-throated cheer of “RICKY BOBBY!” while the other three bellowed a low, keening “WERRRRRD.” Beneath them all, the man Andre had taken down groaned, still alive. Andre looked past Toddrick, shaking the young man’s hand absentmindedly, and was surprised to find deep past the shock and mild horror, a strange satisfaction at seeing this toppled criminal laid out because of him.

Andre realized that Toddrick was still talking. He was talking about wrestling.

“—every, I mean I’ve seen every match, and just. DUDE, it’s the way you move, I think you got. IT. You got it. I know some people, dude, and bet I—” he paused to offer a few sloppy jabs in the air “—could teach ya a thing or two.”

“Eh?”

“Wrestling, dude! Have you ever thought about wrestling?”

Why not? Andre thought, as police cars came screaming up outside. He’d knocked one wrestler out, hadn’t he? Why not go for a few more?

Thirty minutes is not very long for a lunch break. And it’s really not very long for a crash course in all things wrestling. And it really doesn’t matter when the teacher is much too drunk to communicate effectively anyway. Not that Andre expected to learn everything in one insufficient lunch break, but he did have some hope that he’d learn a little more than nothing.

Once again, Toddrick Toddward and his merry band of fellow collegiate inebriates had descended upon Andre’s Waffle House at full, incoherent volume in the unspeakably late hours of the night after the attempted robbery, this time clearly after the bars would no longer tolerate their presence. But this time they also had a singular mission in mind: Andre.

Unfortunately, Andre had a job to do, and couldn’t just leave the griddle to its own devices at the whim of one Toddrick Toddward and the desire to impart wrestling knowledge. Instead, they had to wait for his lunch break, and keep buying a steady stream of hashbrowns and waffles, lest the manager force them to leave.

What Andre found most impressive, as he worked his shift, was how time simply did not seem to make them any less drunk. There was no alcohol being served, not even bootleg, off the record hooch, and Andre never saw so much as the glint of a flask being passed among the group, but they remained just as intoxicated as they had been the minute they walked in the door.

When Andre’s lunch break finally came, Toddrick practically exploded from the booth like a force of nature, leaping over the table, a flurry of twenty dollar bills being thrown behind in his wake to hopefully cover the bill his group had been amassing. He dragged Andre out to the parking lot, back by the dumpster, out of sight of the main road, his posse stumbling to follow.

Toddrick clapped his hands and rubbed them together, looking around at the faded blue dumpster, the rickety fencing valiantly obscuring two sides of the dumpster from view, the oil-stained and uneven asphalt of the parking lot that spread between these sad clusters of commerce, from the Waffle House to the Superior Discount Liquors. Back toward the Red Carpet Inn, one of the rusty light poles jutting up from the asphalt leaned heavily towards the desire to simply fall over, but was either too stubborn or ignorant of gravity to do so. More simply put, it was just the sort of gently-run down, soulless bit of commercial retail America that is found all throughout the country, with little to distinguish it from any of its copies. It had a slightly desperate, uneasy ambiance to it. It was perfect.

“Excellent,” Toddrick slurred confidently, plumbing the depths of his memory to try to bring up an astute reference rooted in pop culture to inaugurate what he intended to be a fight club for Andre to—hah!—learn the ropes, as it were, of wrestling. Didn’t think the phrase came from wrestling, surely, but it fit nonetheless.

Unfortunately for Toddrick, his memory was short on Chuck Palahniuk quotes, and he was left on his own to string words together. “The first rule about dumpster wrestle club,” he began, looking at Andre.

Andre’s eyebrows quirked up his forehead as he waited for Toddrick to continue. He waited, as Toddrick continued to stand there, rocking on his feet, nodding confidently to himself. “The first rule…?” Andre finally prompted.

“Exactly,” Toddrick replied. “You’ve got it. Ok dude, moving on.”

Andre frowned. He got absolutely nothing, and was concerned about moving on from a place he’d never arrived at to begin with. But Andre’s concern was irrelevant; Toddrick was already continuing with his haphazard train of thought, and paid no mind that no one else was completely on board with him.

“Begin at the beginning, they say,” Toddrick said. “What do you know about wrestling?”

“Like on television?”

Andre crouched, arms braced wide like he was preparing to tackle a wayward baby daddy looking to deny all DNA evidence of paternity to the contrary, visions of Maury fixed firmly in his mind.

“Yeah, on TV,” said Todd, feeling this at least looked promising, until Andre continued.

“The guy. Springer. You know the guy. Gerald. Jerry? Seinfeld? No. You are or are not the father. That stuff. Yelling. Throwing chairs. The crowd goes wild, Jer-ry! Jer-ry!”

What were they teaching these kids in France? Toddrick wondered. The fact that Andre was almost a decade older than him was irrelevant to Toddrick’s thought process.

“No, no no. Wrong channel dude.”

“I dunno,” drawled Toddrick’s right hand man, Greg. “He’s wrong, but not totally off. Yelling, fighting, the crowd goes wild, all that shit?”

Toddrick made a face, reluctant to admit that Greg had a point. “You ever seen a wrestling ring?”

Now it was Andre’s turn to make a face. “Mmm…probably?”

“Like if I told you some part and to go there, would you know it. Like, the apron.”

Andre looked at Toddrick skeptically, and plucked at the sides of his own apron in response.

“Ok nope. Ever heard of a turnbuckle?”

Andre half pivoted in place. “Turn?” he muttered, and then looked down toward where his belt was hidden by his apron, “buckle…?”

“Yep, also a nope. Tell you what. Greg, fists up. You probably don’t need to know all this shit anyway, yeah? We’ll just show you what to do. Got time for a few rounds here. You ever fight before? I’m sure you been in a fight before.”

On this count, Toddrick was right. Andre had been in plenty of fights before.

Toddrick put in the application on Andre’s behalf. In late night drunken brainstorming sessions while Andre worked the grill, Toddrick and his boys helped him pick a theme song, set up a Twitter account for him, tried to teach him how to use it (with less success than they were teaching him wrestling moves), and insisted that when Chef Andre stepped into the ring,

“OF COOOOOURSE YOU GOTTA WEAR A CHEF COAT MAAAAAAN!”

All of Andre’s lunch breaks were dedicated to practicing the art of brawling. Admittedly, this was pretty easy to do when his opponents were all drunken frat boys with trust funds and four-letter names. But all they had to fall back on were their own asses as Andre would knock down another Chad or Greg or Brad onto the cracking pavement, and then offer them a hand back up as they enthusiastically complimented him on how much his form was improving.

Of course, Andre hadn’t learned much of a damned thing about wrestling. He tried to ask questions, when they were in the Waffle House, Toddrick and company crowded in their chosen booth, Andre pouring batter onto the waffle irons.

“You come out,” Toddrick was saying, trying and failing to draw an approximation of Andre on a napkin to illustrate, “with a frying pan, natch—“

“Do I hit my opponent with the frying pan?”

“Dude! Dude, that’s illegal.”

“Alors, police illegal, or—“

“It’s just. It’s illegal. Ah-hen-nee-way, you hold up the frying pan, like this, well, this drawing is shit, ok so imagine it, you hold up the frying pan and sing with the music, ‘BE! MY! GUEST!’ And smack the frying pan. Like, with the beats, for emphasis, it’ll be per-her-herfect.”

Greg was looking at his phone, and gasped. “WERD!” he yelled, shoving Toddrick excitedly. “LOOK LOOK!”

Toddrick abandoned the drawing and took Greg’s phone to see. “DUDE!” Toddrick exclaimed, holding the phone out to Andre now. “Your first match is booked! Oh SHIT, we haven’t even started on trash talk yet.”

The manager on duty that night, a dream crusher if ever there was one, smacked Toddrick squarely in the forehead with a laminated menu and forbade them from brainstorming trash talk in the Waffle House while Andre was working. The risk of excessively colorful swearing was too high.

Instead, they once again waited for the brief lunch break window to spill out into the balmy night air beneath the hazy moon, gathering near the old blue dumpster to continue Andre’s training.

“Dude that was TERRIBLE. Try again.”

“Zut alors, why must I trash talk? Is it not enough to just win?”

“No! Absolutely not. You gotta LEAN IN—“ Toddrick leaned so far, like the back parking lot light, that he began to topple over, and only Andre’s quick reflexes snatched him from hitting the ground and got him upright again in time. “Oop, thanks. Lean in to the spectacle!”

Andre made a face, thinking.

“You wanna win, yeah?” Toddrick asked. “You think you’re gonna win, right? Believe in it. Materialize it into the world with epic put downs.”

Andre sighed, and frowned even harder. “Ahmya’s going down like a bad soufflé?”

Toddrick considered the insult for a moment. “Well not if you say it like that. Say it like you mean it, and maybe that’s enough to sell it.”

“What if I just say things very angrily, but in French? Eh?” Andre took a deep breath and bellowed out, “TU ES UNE AFFREUSE LUTTEUSE ET TU VAS PERDRE!”

Toddrick nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, yeah, omelette du fromage to you too buddy. Look, we’ll put that down under a solid maybe.”

“I have wrestled dishwashing hoses stronger than you?”

“Again, not if you say it like that.”

“Got less kick than a bell pepper? I will throw you out of the frying pan and into the fire? When this fight is over you won’t be well but you will be done?”

Toddrick made sure his feet were firmly planted this time before leaning forward again, this time to pat Andre on the shoulder. “Y’know what, it’s not an insult competition. Just do the best you can. Ahmya’s nothing but a shitty gas station microwave compared to the one! The only! The Cast Iron Chef!” Toddrick slapped Andre on the back. “You got this in the to-go bag my friend.”

Next Installment: Part 2 (C’est Cargo)

#My writing #original story #original work #original writing #original fiction #fantasy wrestling #Wrestling fiction #Andre poelon #E-fed #Efedding #Is there any point of tags?#I’m tired of making tags

1 note · View note

esonetwork · 4 years ago

Text

No One Wants to Read Your Crappy Book

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/no-one-wants-to-read-your-crappy-book/

No One Wants to Read Your Crappy Book

Hey, M. D. Jackson here. I’ll be back next month with more art related content. This month I’m giving over my post to my good friend Jack Mackenzie. Jack’s an author and he’s going to talk to you about writing.

Hey. Get in. We’re going for a ride.

No, don’t worry. We’re not going far. I’ll have you back before dinner.

So, I hear you’re writing a book? What’s it about? No, wait… don’t tell me… No. Really. Don’t tell me. Don’t care. I got my own books to write.

What I want to do is give you some straight talk about writing a book in this day and age. You’re probably not going to like it but you need to know it.

The first thing that you have to know is that no one wants to read your crappy book.

Mean? You think I’m being mean? I’m trying to help you. Sit back and listen for a minute, will you?

First off, here are the cold hard facts. It’s estimated that fewer than 1000 fiction writers in North America make a living from their writing. And I’m being generous at 1000. I’ve read some estimates that put that number at only 300. That’s out of around 45,000 writers and authors working in the United States alone. That’s .6 percent… not six percent but POINT six percent… less than 1 percent… of all writers.

Ahh, what the heck! I’m feeling generous. If the number actually is 1000 writers making a living at writing, that’s 2%.

Well, Okay, you have a better chance of making a living as a writer than winning the lottery or getting struck by lightning, true, but, those are still some slim odds.

Yes, I know, there was a time when writers who churned out short novels on a regular basis could make a living Not a great living, to be sure, and, yes, they would occasionally have to churn out some cheap porn novels under a pseudonym to make ends meet.

You think I’m joking? Have you ever heard of Loren Beauchamp? She was the author of such sleazy paperbacks as Campus Sex Club, Unwilling Sinner, and Strange Delights. She was also the pseudonym of science fiction author Robert Silverberg. I kid you not! Look it up.

My point is that it has never been easy making a living as a writer. Few authors could do it, even in the so called “Golden Age” of the paperbacks after the death of the pulp magazines. They needed day jobs or, like Mr. Silverberg, they needed to wear a mask and turn to the dark side.

How did this situation come about? Let me digress for a bit.

Back in the 1960’s the typical science fiction novel ran to about 60,000 words. These were slim volumes of about 130 to 150 pages. Mass market paperbacks in the US were sold mostly at grocery stores or neighbourhood pharmacies. They were displayed in wire racks that rotated. That’s where the thinner books were more desirable. The thinner the book, the more you could stack. You used to be able to fit about six paperbacks in a three inch rack.

So what happened? Why did these compact volumes grow to such monstrous size?

There are a few reasons, but chiefly it comes down to inflation. In the 70’s and 80’s the price of just about everything rose. That included paper and printing costs. Publishers found that they needed to increase the prices of their books to compensate.

But according to grocery store logic if you want to charge more for a product then it has to weigh more. You can’t just start using bigger typeface or thicker paper to do that so you start looking for longer novels.

And there was also this massively big book that came out in paperback, a little story about elves and stuff, called The Lord of the Rings. At 473,000 words it was a massive book that had to be broken down into three parts. But, oddly enough, that little book sold an amazing number of copies.

So, given that consumers would buy longer books and pay more for them if they were thicker, well, the writing was on the wall and there was a whole lot of it.

At the same time distribution channels dried up. The wire racks were gone. Publishers were charging more and more for thicker books, but the places that were left to sell these books couldn’t sell massive hardbacks unless they were bestsellers. Those pesky midlist volumes weren’t moving off the shelves fast enough. Stop sending us midlist books, the big bookstores told the publishers. Only send us bestsellers.

What’s that? Oh… you plan to self publish? Ahh, well, that’s different, then.

You see, according to a survey by Guardian in 2015, the average self-published author makes less than $1,000 per year. In fact, a third of them make less than $500 per year. And there’s over a million self published authors with more joining the ranks all the time.

I know, I know, I read those stories all the time too, about how a self published author sold a million copies of his book and got rich. I also see lots of stories on the news about the guys who won big on the lottery, or got struck by lightning. The fact is that most people, the vast majority of the population… don’t.

Think of it like this: You’re at a concert… an open-air, rock festival-type concert… You’re on the ground several meters distant from the stage. The stage is 100 feet high and the approach to it slopes up. 1000 people are standing on the slope. The headliners… say, Stephen King, J. K. Rowling, James Patterson and Neil Gaiman… are 100 feet in the air.

You’re on the flat ground. You’re trying to get closer to the stage. But you just can’t seem to push past all the others surrounding you… and there are a lot! They’re all waving their books in the air. Occasionally some author with a toothy grin and the right connections blows past you. Or one of the concert promoters escorts a cute red-head to the front simply because she’s a cute red-head.

You’ve been on the ground, pounding away at the ground for years on end and these fortunate few keep slipping by you and the grounds just keep getting more and more crowded.

That’s what the publishing industry is today for most authors.

So what does that mean for you and your book? Well, like I said, no one wants to read your crappy book. But… you can change that. Or at least make it more likely that someone will want to read it.

Here’s the thing: don’t focus on the stage 100 feet in the air. Focus on those around you. Be interested in their work. Talk to them. Make friends. Don’t moan and whine that you haven’t sold any of your books. Talk about your books if others are interested. If they’re not (and believe me, most people aren’t) talk about something else. What do you like? Comic books? Movies? Stamp collecting? Cookie recipes. Talk about that. Be genuine. Be present.

Have a website. Have a Twitter feed. Have a Facebook page. Talk about things you are interested in. People will find you. If this seems like a waste of time, just remember that those 1000 writers up there near the stage? They’re doing it too. So is Steve, J.K, James and Neil. They’re always out there, always talking. People like them. They like them and they read their books.

No one cares about your book. But if you are out there online or (post Covid, of course) in person at conventions or other gatherings… heck, even house parties… just be yourself. Be the best version of yourself. Be friendly. Be interested in others. If people like you they might read your book.

Look… maybe your book will resonate with a lot of people. Maybe some weird confluence of events will thrust you into the spotlight. Strange things happen. But you can’t control that. The only thing you can control is yourself. Be yourself. Be the best version of yourself. Don’t brood. Don’t moan. Don’t whine.

That’s all I got for you. I’m sorry it’s not more encouraging, but that’s life, right? And, hey! Look. This is where we started. I told you I’d have you back in time for dinner.

Take care now. Good luck with your book. Honestly. You seem like a nice person. I’m rooting for you.

jackmackenziewriter.wordpress.com

#ESO Network #J.K. Rowling #J.R.R. Tolkein #Jack Mackenzie #Loren Beauchamp #Neil Gaiman #Publishing #Robert Silverberg #Self Publishing #Stephen King #The Lord of the Rings

1 note · View note

tswiftdaily · 6 years ago

Text

TAYLOR SWIFT: 30 THINGS I LEARNED BEFORE TURNING 30

According to my birth certificate, I turn 30 this year. It's weird because part of me still feels 18 and part of me feels 283, but the actual age I currently am is 29. I've heard people say that your thirties are "the most fun!" So I'll definitely keep you posted on my findings on that when I know. But until then, I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned before reaching 30, because it's 2019 and sharing is caring.

ONE: I learned to block some of the noise. Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren’t, how you’re failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments. Yes, I keep comments off on my posts. That way, I’m showing my friends and fans updates on my life, but I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me I look . I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to “go die in a hole ho” while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once.

TWO: Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

THREE: Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks. It’s especially good to do this in your twenties because we are searching. That’s GOOD. We’ll always be searching but never as intensely as when our brains are still developing at such a rapid pace. No, this is not an excuse to text your ex right now. That’s not what I said. Or do it, whatever, maybe you’ll learn from it. Then you’ll probably forget what you learned and do it again.... But it’s fine; do you, you’re searching.

FOUR: I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body. I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy. I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix. I work on accepting my body every day.

FIVE: Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it.

SIX: I’ve learned that society is constantly sending very loud messages to women that exhibiting the physical signs of aging is the worst thing that can happen to us. These messages tell women that we aren’t allowed to age. It’s an impossible standard to meet, and I’ve been loving how outspoken Jameela Jamil has been on this subject. Reading her words feels like hearing a voice of reason amongst all these loud messages out there telling women we’re supposed to defy gravity, time, and everything natural in order to achieve this bizarre goal of everlasting youth that isn’t even remotely required of men.

SEVEN: My biggest fear. After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn’t know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months. There was a tremendous amount of planning, expense, and effort put into keeping my fans safe. My fear of violence has continued into my personal life. I carry QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds. Websites and tabloids have taken it upon themselves to post every home address I’ve ever had online. You get enough stalkers trying to break into your house and you kind of start prepping for bad things. Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

EIGHT: I learned not to let outside opinions establish the value I place on my own life choices. For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships. Whether it was the general internet consensus of who would be right for me, or what they thought was “couples goals” based on a picture I posted on Instagram. That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

NINE: I learned how to make some easy cocktails like Pimm’s cups, Aperol spritzes, Old-Fashioneds, and Mojitos because…2016.

TEN: I’ve always cooked a LOT, but I found three recipes I know I’ll be making at dinner parties for life: Ina Garten’s Real Meatballs and Spaghetti (I just use packaged bread crumbs and only ground beef for meat), Nigella Lawson’s Mughlai Chicken, and Jamie Oliver’s Chicken Fajitas with Molé Sauce. Getting a garlic crusher is a whole game changer. I also learned how to immediately calculate Celsius to Fahrenheit in my head. (Which is what I’m pretty sure the internet would call a “weird flex.”)

ELEVEN: Recently I discovered Command tape, and I definitely would have fewer holes in my walls if I’d hung things that way all along. This is not an ad. I just really love Command tape.

TWELVE: Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships.

THIRTEEN: It’s my opinion that in cases of sexual assault, I believe the victim. Coming forward is an agonizing thing to go through. I know because my sexual assault trial was a demoralizing, awful experience. I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.” It’s something no one would choose for themselves. We speak up because we have to, and out of fear that it could happen to someone else if we don’t.

FOURTEEN: When tragedy strikes someone you know in a way you’ve never dealt with before, it’s okay to say that you don’t know what to say. Sometimes just saying you’re so sorry is all someone wants to hear. It’s okay to not have any helpful advice to give them; you don’t have all the answers. However, it’s not okay to disappear from their life in their darkest hour. Your support is all someone needs when they’re at their lowest point. Even if you can’t really help the situation, it’s nice for them to know that you would if you could.

FIFTEEN: Vitamins make me feel so much better! I take L-theanine, which is a natural supplement to help with stress and anxiety. I also take magnesium for muscle health and energy.

SIXTEEN: Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! All that glitters isn’t gold, and first impressions actually aren’t everything. It’s impressive when someone can charm people instantly and own the room, but what I know now to be more valuable about a person is not their charming routine upon meeting them (I call it a “solid first 15”), but the layers of a person you discover in time. Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people? These are things a first impression could never convey.

SEVENTEEN: After my teen years and early twenties of sleeping in my makeup and occasionally using a Sharpie as eyeliner (DO NOT DO IT), I felt like I needed to start being nicer to my skin. I now moisturize my face every night and put on body lotion after I shower, not just in the winter, but all year round, because, why can’t I be soft during all the seasons?!

EIGHTEEN: Realizing childhood scars and working on rectifying them. For example, never being popular as a kid was always an insecurity for me. Even as an adult, I still have recurring flashbacks of sitting at lunch tables alone or hiding in a bathroom stall, or trying to make a new friend and being laughed at. In my twenties I found myself surrounded by girls who wanted to be my friend. So I shouted it from the rooftops, posted pictures, and celebrated my newfound acceptance into a sisterhood, without realizing that other people might still feel the way I did when I felt so alone. It’s important to address our long-standing issues before we turn into the living embodiment of them.

NINETEEN: Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

TWENTY: Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. Something about “we’re in our young twenties!” hurls people together into groups that can feel like your chosen family. And maybe they will be for the rest of your life. Or maybe they’ll just be your comrades for an important phase, but not forever. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories.

TWENTY-ONE: Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella.

TWENTY-TWO: How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.

TWENTY-THREE: I learned that I have friends and fans in my life who don’t care if I’m #canceled. They were there in the worst times and they’re here now. The fans and their care for me, my well-being, and my music were the ones who pulled me through. The most emotional part of the Reputation Stadium Tour for me was knowing I was looking out at the faces of the people who helped me get back up. I’ll never forget the ones who stuck around.

TWENTY-FOUR: I’ve had to learn how to handle serious illness in my family. Both of my parents have had cancer, and my mom is now fighting her battle with it again. It’s taught me that there are real problems and then there’s everything else. My mom’s cancer is a real problem. I used to be so anxious about daily ups and downs. I give all of my worry, stress, and prayers to real problems now.

TWENTY-FIVE: I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

TWENTY-SIX: I make countdowns for things I’m excited about. When I’ve gone through dark, low times, I’ve always found a tiny bit of relief and hope in getting a countdown app (they’re free) and adding things I’m looking forward to. Even if they’re not big holidays or anything, it’s good to look toward the future. Sometimes we can get overwhelmed in the now, and it’s good to get some perspective that life will always go on, to better things.

TWENTY-SEVEN: I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it.

TWENTY-EIGHT: I’m finding my voice in terms of politics. I took a lot of time educating myself on the political system and the branches of government that are signing off on bills that affect our day-to-day life. I saw so many issues that put our most vulnerable citizens at risk, and felt like I had to speak up to try and help make a change. Only as someone approaching 30 did I feel informed enough to speak about it to my 114 million followers. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric. I’m going to do more to help. We have a big race coming up next year.

TWENTY-NINE: I learned that your hair can completely change texture. From birth, I had the curliest hair and now it is STRAIGHT. It’s the straight hair I wished for every day in junior high. But just as I was coming to terms with loving my curls, they’ve left me. Please pray for their safe return.

THIRTY: My mom always tells me that when I was a little kid, she never had to punish me for misbehaving because I would punish myself even worse. I’d lock myself in my room and couldn’t forgive myself, as a five-year-old. I realized that I do the same thing now when I feel I’ve made a mistake, whether it’s self-imposed exile or silencing myself and isolating. I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.

ELLE

#taylor swift #elle #article

3K notes · View notes