#low pixel wife appreciation time

[all-things-fic]

Quarantine Begins At Home

A/N: Hi everyone, its been a long time since I’ve done one of these authors note thingys.

I know it may sound silly but I wanted to put a bit of a disclaimer in my authors note. This piece of writing is by no means encouraging people to start getting close to each other, please make sure you are social distancing and please wash your bloody hands. This is purely a way to give some of you who are in quarantine (which by now seems to be all of us) some light relief. Everyone stay safe and look after yourselves!

Please enjoy for simple entertainment and of course let me know what you think. Looking forward to hearing what you have to say for yourselves!  I’m not going to hide my phone so I don’t obsess over notifications because I’m rubbish at releasing any of my writing into the wild.

P.S. praise Beauty Papers for bringing out that one picture of Harry where he’s in his undies and socks and TPWK tee. You fed this fic. .x

***

The niggly cough that you’d been showcasing over the last three days was nothing more than annoying. Topping itself off with a fever that had you sweating unattractively the night before, had left you thinking only one thing. 

Quarantine was on the horizon. 

When you’d sat up straight in bed, 3am that morning, sporting a clammy, tackiness to your skin you didn’t even think twice about stripping off your pyjama top before dropping back down into bed. 

It had been hard to push away your husband, his own bare chest finding your back as he pulled you towards him. Hands only stilling their actions when you whined into the darkness about how you were ‘too hot for that’. 

Harry had chuckled into the back of your head and softly shushed you as you’d let yourself doze back to sleep. 

Two nights after, Harry had not so elegantly shook the bed as he kicked the duvet off his body to stop himself from sweating. 

“‘S bloody hot in ‘ere, ‘m sweating,” he grumbled, flipping over his pillow so that the cold side could greet his flushed face and offer some sort of relief. 

He turned to face you, causing you to ask him to flip back to his previous position because you didn’t want him to breathe on you. 

“It’s not you, it’s the carona,” you responded, burrowing down and pulling your blanket over your mouth.

You knew if it wasn’t so dark in the room he would appreciate the cheeky glint in your eye as you stared back at him.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” he groaned, rolling over and pushing his face against the pillow. You rolled your lips into your mouth, suppressing your laughter at how miserable he had become, while he huffed and puffed into his fresh bed-linen. 

Lifting your hands from under the confines of your blankets you reached up to gently rub Harry’s back, wanting to provide some form of comfort if you could. 

The two of you lay silent and awake in the dark that night. Both sprightly and in your twenties, you knew you didn’t have much to worry about anything, but you had to do your bit. 

Isolating yourself was going to be interesting.

***

If you had never felt like you were comfortable around your husband before now - the kind of comfortable that meant you’d leave the bathroom door open as you used the toilet - Harry was doing everything in his power during quarantine to reassure you otherwise.

It was in the comments he made, the way he moved. The kind that should have you wrinkling your nose at him and shaking your head, to tell him to stop. However, now you found yourself taking it all in your stride, often clapping back with a comment that had him chuckling to himself.

“I’ve not changed my pants since Monday,” his deep morning voice broke the sleep filled silence as you both lay in bed.

“Makes a change that you’re actually wearing them,” you mumbled back, weirdly not bothered at the filthy habit your husband had just revealled while you entered another day of being cooped up. 

“It’s not usually a problem,” he spoke, dropping his eyes down to look at you, as you pressed your head closer to his lips accepting the fleeting kiss he left in you hair. 

“Surprised you even know what day it is-“

“Been crossing the days off the kitchen calendar.”

He was proud of himself for that one. For helping the two of you not enter that weird period that was usually only experienced during Christmas and New Year. Where no one knows what day of the week it is; AM and PM blending together. 

Naps became scheduled parts of the day, and arguably the most important part to aid avoiding grouchy backbiting comments bubbling simply from being around each other for a little more than was bearable. Everyday was becoming more and more like a Sunday. 

“Wondered why the calendar was a day out?”

“What’d you mean?”

The offence lacing his question caused you to bite away your smile as you continued to aimlessly scroll through Instagram. “Dates have been crossed off one day out, you crossed out Wednesday yesterday when it’s in fact Wednesday today.”

There was a small amount of silence in the room as your words resonated with Harry. 

“Bollocks.”

You muffled your chuckle by pressing your lips into Harry’s forearm that was nestled securely around your shoulder and across your chest. 

“The thought was there, darling. It is appreciated. Thank you,” you whispered after leaving a chaste kiss against his skin once more. You took great delight in feeling the downy hair of his arm pressed to your lips. 

As your eyes remained on the screen of your phone, you watched the 45836 quarantine meme on your timeline cut away from Instagram to an incoming FaceTime from your mother-in-law.

“Harry,” you hummed, hearing him barely respond with his own steady grunt of acknowledgment. “Why’s your Mum FaceTiming me?”

“I dunno-“ he cut off, pressing his face to uncomfortably rest into your hair. “Quick, answer before it cuts off-“

“We’re in bed-“

Moving the fastest he had all day, you couldn’t even comprehend that Harry had accepted the call before a crackle of sound and another environment was heard through your phone speaker.

“He’s alive then,” Anne immediately spoke the minute her FaceTime screen had cleared from a blurry pixelated mess. “Yes, you young man. Trying to hide your face into your wife’s hair, like you know she’ll take your flack for you.”

You found yourself sinking further underneath your duvet as you watched Anne address Harry through the phone. Her tone was clearly abrasive but more so out of worry.

“You know I’ve been calling you,” she continued, pausing. “You needn’t look at me like that from the corner of your eye, Harry. Have you got food in your house?“

“We’re okay for food, Anne,” you acknowledged her, watching the way her eyes looked to your left, her stare holding on her youngest. As she blinked she turned to face you, her face softening. 

“Even better for loo roll,” Harry sarcastically quipped. 

Again, Anne’s eyes hardened as she skimmed them over her son’s less than impressed expression. 

“Put your face straight,” she sharply spoke. “What about protection?”

“‘Fucksake pass me tha’ phone ‘ere,” he groaned, rolling around to sit up in bed and take the phone away from you. You did nothing to fight him, slightly embarrassed at the insinuation and the current place in your house where Anne had caught you both.

Pulling at his joggers that sat low against his hips, Harry held the phone up so that his mother was no longer seeing the sweaty palm of his hand and then a quick glimpse of an unmade bed.

When her image graced his vision he noticed the way she was smiling, her face almost split in two before she sipped at her cup of tea. His eyes took in the garden behind her, one that he knew well and he knew she’d be enjoying her brunch on the nice spring day that awaited those who needed to do a quick top-up shop at their local supermarket, feel brave enough to pop outside.

Shaking his head, he raised his eyebrows at his Mum who seemed awfully pleased with herself. 

“Had yer fun now, I’m up. You’ve succeeded.”

“It’s bloody midday,” she chastised.

“Had a late night, didn’t we?,” he glanced over at you, watching the way your eyes almost popped out at his suggestive comment.

“Tell you what, this quarantine‘s gonna have a lot to answer for,” Anne started, her voice light. “Isn’t that right, Evie?” She spoke, the visual that greeted Harry being one of his mother softly showering his cat with love and affection. “‘S Daddy forgetting about you already? You made him a Daddy first isn’t that right?”

“Mum,” Harry’s tone was set as he stressed how he addressed Anne, willing her to stop her playful jibing at his expense. 

“‘M telling you, sweetheart. Baby boom is impending,” again Anne raised her eyebrows. All Harry could do was chuckle at how invested his Mum appeared to be in wanting to become a Grandmother. 

“Anyway,” she grabbed Harry’s attention again, as he bounced his way down the stairs of his home and padded his socked feet along his wooden floors. “Are you showering?” 

“‘M not a bloody sloth-“

“It’s midday and you’ve only just left your pit.”

He didn’t have a leg to stand on. You smiled as you heard their interaction, having been hot on Harry’s tails. As you relaxed against the doorframe of your kitchen, you heard Anne’s chuckling to herself before she next spoke. 

“Could do with a shave.”

“Anything else I’m not doing right?”

Pushing up off the doorframe, you found yourself drawn to Harry. Hand rubbing up his clothed back and shoulders, you rubbed at them gently and pushed your face into the frame.

“No, the beard can stay,” you turned to Harry, jokingly squeezing at his jaw and cheeks with your right hand solely, before you mischievously tapped his cheek and turned your attention to putting on your kitchen stove.

“The wife says no,” he jutted out his bottom lip in a challenge to his Mum.

“Not just the cat he’s replacing, Anne-“

Anne’s boisterous laugh filled your kitchen at your comment and it warmed you as you caught the way it had Harry softly laughing to. His body relaxing and bending down so his elbow rested against the kitchen counter, chin leaning against his palm. 

“There’s enough of me to go around,” he breathed out, cheekily looking at you from the corner of his eye. You loved the way his cheeks had started to softly glow with an endearing blush.

“You do look healthy, love,”

Just like that, gone was the cheeky smile, the glowing eyes. They were quick to be replaced by a light frown and slightly offended expression, “‘s tha’ s’pose to mean?”

“It’s only quarantine weight, nothing he can’t get rid of,” you said, leaning back into the frame and goadingly patting against Harry's little pot-belly that slightly stuck out against his t-shirt. “Can’t be having anyone else fancying him now, can I Anne?”

Again Anne laughed, eyes glittering through the screen as she watched the way the two of you interacted. It was clear that this conversation was something she definitely needed having been holed up in her abode by herself. 

Harry squinted his eyes suspiciously at you, before sharply looking at his Mum. “Oh, I see how it is,” he started with a soft nod. “The two of you ganging up on me, ‘s fine I’m a big boy.”

“The stretch waistband on your joggers agrees,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows before addressing Anne off screen. “We call this his quarantine outfit.”

“I tell you what, ‘s a good job you haven’t got to pour yourself into those skinny jeans anymore cause that would be a-“

You feel him staring at you, causing your voice to trail off. “No carry on, dares ya,” he drawled. He saw the way you opened your mouth to continue, nostrils flaring as you took a deep breath and looked at him with an amused expression.

“I-“

Harry darted at you as your voice caught in your throat, the loudest squeal leaving your lips as your phone clattered face down to the marble of you kitchen counter and gave Anne nothing more than the visual of a black screen framed by gleeful noises of a blissfully newlywed couple.

***

Quarantine is all fun and games until your husband of sixty-seven days decides he wants to put together the coffee table that you’d been gifted from a member of your wedding party. 

You knew Harry was becoming ansty as you entered day nine of your self-isolation. His fingers and thumbs too twitchy for his own good. You felt the same but by giving yourself a little list of tasks such as changing your bedding every couple of days, you’d managed to find a way to keep yourself busy enough. Between that, reading and scrolling mindlessly through social media, you were doing okay. Or so you thought. 

There was something about men and DIY. They all liked to think they were good at it. Especially when they’re looking for something to do. And while they groan when asked about doing the jobs around the house, there was surely an element of pleasure found in the most menial of tasks (more so in the current climate) and a smugness in being needed. 

Everything had started out well. Harry had made you snort your laughter at how he’d flamboyantly pulled open the box of the flat-pack furniture in the middle of your living room. 

Everything had been neatly wrapped in plastic, and while not ideal for the planet it was ideal for your pleasure of having everything organised. 

Sat cross-legged on the floor, in nothing more than a pair of underpants, socks and a t-shirt, Harry eagerly flipped through the white paper instructions.  

You smiled to yourself when you saw him trying to decipher the Italian instructions, knowing just how adamant he was about ensuring he kept his mind active during quarantine and that he made it so he had used the time wisely and learned a new skill.

“Think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you?” you teased, watching his gaze slowly lift and look at you through the hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Just read the English instructions, Harry.”

He smirked, dropping his eyes back down to the Italian instructions and ignoring your plea. 

“Thought you were supportive of my challenge of becoming a bilingual king,” he spoke sarcastically, tone set as he set his brow and really tried to concentrate on the drawings.

“But then that means I have to become a bilingual queen, and we all know that wouldn’t be a pretty sight.”

Harry laughed, reaching forward for one of the items he was looking for, scrutinising it by moving it around in his hands before placing it back down onto the floor.

“Could always just look at the pictures, love?”

“Pardon,” you spoke, rolling your head to look at him from where you lay along the couch, with eyes wider than usual at his brazen cheek. He didn’t reply, instead he shook his head while wearing the most amused expression you’d seen since the start of your quarantine.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for a throw cushion from the sofa and threw it at him, the item hitting Harry not so elegantly against the shoulder as he leaned over to check he had the other parts required to complete the furniture assembly. 

He, of course, took it in his stride, grabbing at the cushion and sitting on it. “Thanks for that, darling. Arse would go numb otherwise.”

“You’re squishing my favourite throw pillow-“

“Took the name quite literally then,” he spoke with a tight voice as he raised himself up onto his knees and crawled across the rug underneath him. “If you don’t mind, I’m doing manly things over ‘ere.”

Instead of responding you turned on your side and buried your left cheek into another cushion. Seeing Harry so concentrated but messy had been one of the things you’d enjoyed the most about your time being holed up together. 

He had absolutely let himself go but loved every minute of doing so. His hair hadn’t been styled once since the two of you had shut up shop to recuperate. His clothes, of which he appeared to be wearing less and less as the days went by, were more high street special than couture runway. 

He’d never looked more attractive. Honestly. 

“Are you going to lie there and watch me, or are yer gonna help?”

Again his question was concentrated, his hands and eyes preoccupied. 

“Thought you liked being in control, doin’ all the work-“

He side-eyed you, his lips twitching up into a sly smile. “Need reminding, ‘s tha’ it?” 

“What I need is,” you paused, watching the way he kept his eyes on you. “What I need is for you to put up our coffee table.”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re staring at a bunch of parts-“

“‘S the instructions, not me!”

You stared at him as he laughed around his exclaimed words. Swinging your legs, you forced yourself to sit up and saw the way Harry moved slightly back to give you more space. “That’s it, gimme the bloody instructions, let’s have a look at these pictures.”

Somewhere amongst the friendly bickering you managed to help him sort out all the parts and count out all the screws just to make sure he had everything he needed. 

When you’d seen that he had laid everything out that he required, you pushed yourself up from the floor where you had placed yourself opposite Harry.

“Fancy a cuppa for your efforts?”

Scratching at the back of his head, he looked at you. “Not done much,” he scrunched his nose. “Could you grab me a water?”

You nodded, leaning down to press your lips to his. He hummed, happy, as you pulled away and offered him a series of soft pecks. “‘S nice,” he whispered.

“I am nice,” you confirmed. “I’ll grab a screwdriver or two from the garage, in case the allen keys don’t cut it.”

His laugh was a knowing one as you walked away and heard the first expletive leave Harry’s lips when he reached for the first part of the furniture to piece together. “‘S not lining up wi’the hole,” he shouted through from the lounge to the kitchen at you. 

You chuckled under your breath shaking your head before he shouted again, “‘s not what it sounds like!”

That caused you to bark a laugh. It was going to be a long afternoon. 

***

You weren’t quite sure where it had all gone wrong. From laughing about awful innuendo, to aggravatedly sighing at each other. Yet, you were there in the thick of it and seemingly very happy to ride the wave.

“This is your fault,” he muttered under his breath, the crackle of the paper as he snatched up the instructions to flick through them one more time bringing nothing more than frustration. You saw the way he slowly retraced his steps and try and figure out where it had gone wrong. 

“All I’ve done is pass you things,” you snapped back. “And if you’re gonna blame me at least put some conviction behind it and say it with your whole chest. Don’t be a wuss.” 

He grunted at that and if you hadn’t got your head buried into your phone, looking at work emails this time via the Outlook app, you would’ve seen the way he was mocking you and mouthing the words you had just said to him with a less than pleased look on his face. 

Harry sat with one coffee table leg to complete, however if his counting was correct he was a screw missing. Probably in more ways than one after this quarantine was over; the same going for you. 

“Wanted the coffee table up, continues to sit around and not help,” he spoke his words louder than he had envisaged them in his head, seeing the way your figure shifted on the couch as you heard him loud and clear.

“Thought I told you to stop mumbling under your breath,” you cut your eyes over to him, watching the way he waggled the screwdriver he was using in between his thumb and forefinger lightly.

The item shook and you were about to tell him off like he was your son, rather than your partner, if that screwdriver so much as softly scratched, never mind dented, the oak top of your coffee table.

What was annoying you more was how he was just sitting there. Not so much as moving a muscle and letting his eyes frantically move along the wooden flooring and lounge rugs, just expecting a screw to shine up at him like he was a magpie. 

With irrational anger bubbling inside of you, that wouldn’t have existed if you’d decided to sit outside in the garden to do your work rather than watching Harry, you sighed. 

“Shift your fat arse,” you said with more bite than you intended. 

Harry glared at you, his sharp stare meeting yours dead on in a silent question of ‘what did you just say to me?’

“You heard me,” you answered. “Move yourself!” 

The torment in his features as to whether he should remain stubborn and not move, or see where you were going with your harsh vagueness, played across his face.

Ultimately however, he wanted to finish this fucking thing. The one thing he wished he hadn’t started. 

Annoyed, he shuffled around so he found himself on his knees. He watched as you pushed yourself off the couch, and peered around his body to take in the space which he had just freed up. 

“There. You’re sitting on it!” 

Harry’s eyes dropped down at the space behind him, green gaze spotting the tiny silver, bane of his existence, almost instantly. He snatched up the tiny screw that has been underneath his thigh and looked at you with a pointed glare.

“Don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, mate.”

“Don’t ‘mate’ me,” he growled, snatching up the last coffee table leg this time and using the recently found screw to secure it to the table. 

Part of you wanted to laugh at the scene in front of you, the two of you facing off but neither of you able to look at the other.

“I’m waiting for my apology,” you said, soft smile hurting your lips, as he continued to fix into place the last piece. You thought your tone was light, as you found humour at how the two of you were easily beginning to get sick of each other now.

“Well, you’re gonna be waiting a long fucking time.”

And just like that he’d sucked away all the humour you’d felt towards the argument, faster than a vacuum cleaner.

“There’s no need to be an arsehole, I was joking-“

“Could’ve fucking fooled me,” he looked up at you, while you watched the way his arm began to tense as he got closer to the end of the screw becoming tight enough.

He was just as tight; a coil ready to spring and pop. 

“I can’t reason with you when you’re like this,” you stared at him, as you watched him chuckle with a shake of his head. He didn’t respond, happy to shoulder the blame if it meant he would get you out of his hair and give him a moment of peace.

Instead his eyes were trained on your feet as he watched you walk away. A sense of freedom washing over you both as you did so. 

***

You frowned down at the hob of your cooker and watched the way it sparkled up at you. Snatching up the cleaning detergent, you squeezed at the pump and watched the white foamy spray squirt unnecessarily against the already very clean surface.

This was your distraction, while Harry’s was continuing to push his nose into the novel of his choosing as he lay along your couch. You never were really much of a cleaner but quarantine meant that you were living in the same four walls for so long than you’d found even more of a sense of pride over your abode. 

Pressing your hands into the kitchen counter, you felt the front of your hair fall messily into your eyes as you took deep breaths. You were more sad than angry now. This weird feeling sitting in your chest that was overriding your sense of thinking rationally.

Why should you apologise? Really. Why?

Why shouldn’t he apologise? Be the bigger person in this whole thing? 

Breathing deeply in through your nose, you lifted your eyes up to look at the kettle that sat to you right. Before you even thought about it you flicked your wrist and pressed at the lever of the kettle.

The amber light signified that it was about to boil, the usual crackle following not too long after. 

Raising up, you rolled your neck and shoulders, feeling the tension beneath them that would only be alleviated by a massage of some sort. Foot steps heavy as they trudged over to the opposite side of your kitchen to the sink draining rack, your preferred mug was easy to grab.

You hand stilled as you reached for his mug, the sound of a dry cough pushing its way through the tense air from the other room. From the sound of it you knew he hadn’t approached and that he was still in his own brooding state, having taken root along the couch. 

Medical professionals had told both you and Harry via telephone that while you were experiencing symptoms of the virus, you were leaning more so to a common cold given the bout of sneezing that had so gracefully taken over you both on day five of being cooped up.

Regardless of not being considered vulnerable the time was still a scary one, and the thought of losing loved ones very much at the front of your mind.

Which is why you should apologise.

You huffed at your conscience, snatching up Harry’s mug and sitting it next to yours. Two tea bags later,steaming hot water and a dash of milk, you took solace in the tinker of the spoon against the ceramic.

Cleaning products tossed aside, hands washed for at least the thirtieth time that day, you curled your fingers around the handles and tip-toed carefully towards your living room 

Halting at the edge of the room, you took in Harry’s figure as he lay along the couch. Dressed in nothing more than a t-shirt that read the infamous slogan he was known for, a pair of y-front pants that should be nothing more than repulsive to you and sports socks; he looked comforting even though sulky. 

Soft frown etched in between his brows, Harry’s eyes were frantically moving over the pages of the book that had him incredibly engrossed. You watched the way he licked at the middle finger of his right hand and turned the page.

Before you could stop yourself, a tut escaped your lips. He shouldn’t be putting his hands anywhere near his face. When was the last time he’d washed them? 

The noise caused Harry to sharply cut his eyes to you, abruptly pulling them from the pages of the paperback and onto your figure. You stood, awkward under his gaze, watching his eyes drop to the two mugs you held.

“Shouldn’t be doing that,” you lazily commented on him licking his fingers. “When did you last sanitise?”

“Please get off my arse,” he deadpanned. 

You swallowed harshly, continuing to feel heavier from your previous bicker. You didn’t want this unnecessary animosity to continue at all. He must’ve known that from the way his face softened slightly as he dropped his eyes, that were now not as harsh with their gaze as when he previously looked at you, to the steaming mugs.

“‘S all this,” he hummed. “‘S my mug.”

“It is,” you croaked, acknowledging his obvious statement. “‘S me bringing you a peace offering.”

“Brought any biscuits wi’yer?”

Your lips twitched at his question, offering nothing more than a shake of your head in response.

“‘S no good,” he hummed, eyes turning back to his book as he nudged his body over slightly to create a bigger gap next to him. A gap that looked awfully big enough to hold you.

Feeling brave from his light conversation, you walked closer. The dull thud of the heavy, tea-filled mugs hitting the coffee table that had just three hours earlier caused world war three in the four walls of your home, nervously brought you attention back to the sole reason you weren’t talking.

Over an inanimate object. 

Not wanting to push your luck, you slowly let the remaining part of the large couch above Harry’s head swallow you. Mind now no longer engulfed by the worry of confrontation, your senses tuned in to the soft hum of a record playing in the top corner of your lounge and the partially agitated sigh that left Harry’s lips.

You didn’t acknowledge it, choosing to instead blow gently at the warm mug held securely between both your hands. You knew it would be too hot for you to even consider drinking just yet.

Legs curled up underneath and to the side of you, you dropped your neck back slightly to rest against the marshmallow-like cushions and relax.

Finding comfort wasn’t easy, as your space had gotten smaller and smaller as the day went by. Part of you didn’t want it to get bigger though. Being in a bubble could be very pleasing, very pleasing. 

Lips twitched up at your thoughts, only deepening when you felt the soft grip of fingertips gently pinching at your calves. The same fingertips then flattened out, smoothing down and around your muscle to lightly tug.

Heavy head slowly lifting up, you took in the sight beneath you. Harry had reached behind him, his right elbow lifted awkwardly into the air as his left arm held his book above his head. His eyes remained trained to his book, as he flipped it slightly in his grip to read onto the next page.

You sighed as you watched the way his index and middle finger gently rubbed the soft fabric of your fluffy socks between his fingers, like some self soothing mechanism. 

The blissful noise alerted your husband, his head tilted back so he was looking at you from upside down. “Why’re all the way over there?” He asked softly.

You chuckled against your mug. “You’re touching me, I’m hardly in safe social distance according to advice.”

“Not touching you enough,” he spoke deeply. “Come an’ love me.”

Nose scrunching up at his tone, you reached forward as you rolled your lips into your mouth. 

“Have I got to?” You playfully questioned, feeling the tug of his hand become more forceful.

“If yer know what’s good for yer, yer will,” he groused. 

Fighting your smile, you ran your tongue against your teeth and tried to remember if you’d brushed them that morning. As disgusting as it sounded, everything was beginning to blur. Days into nights into days. 

You slipped off the couch and felt Harry watching you as he manoeuvred to his side. Laying down next to him in such a small space was in some silly way, exhilarating. The idea of being able to feel him against you; the shudder of his stomach as he laughed and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, was everything you needed to get you through quarantine. 

The softest smile hit your face as you watched the way he wordlessly lifted his arm to welcome you to him. Sinking into the couch, while it was easy before, definitely felt easier this second time around. 

You nestled into his strong chest, feeling his shuffle underneath you and immediately begin to play with the hem of your short sleeve, his fingers lightly grazing against your skin.

Nudging your nose underneath his jawline, you enjoyed the way his stubbled gently tickled you. Harry was always warm and comforting, the right kind of strong and equally the right kind of soft. He had this way of making you feel small but in the tallest of ways. 

“Thank you,” you gently whispered when you felt him draw you close to him and saw the way he lifted his book up even high above the two of you so you could see the pages too. 

Your hand sat resting just above his belly, and you felt the way it slightly jiggled as he cleared his throat. 

He read to you, parts of a book that were realistically intimate that you found now more than anything that making up was the only option. 

“Talking to me properly now,” you mouthed against his skin after he stopped reading aloud. 

“‘S not me, it’s Bethan Roberts,” he replied, turning the book slightly in his hands so you could see the cover. 

“Well tell her I said thanks, managed to get my sulky hubby to produce more than a grunt-“

You heard him groan at your words, “Please don’t call me that.”

“What? Sulky?”

Harry turned his head slightly as he looked down his nose at you, the softest double chin forming. “No. I mean, hubby.” 

You gigged. Yes, giggled. Unattractively too. “How about my favourite handy man?”

“Darling,” he warned, not wanting you to pick the scab off a barely healing wound from the much earlier interaction. 

Lifting up, you nudged your nose against his cheek, softly sweeping against his facial hair before you located the corner of his mouth. “Not the only one who is good with their hands, you know?”

“‘S tha’ right,” he replied, fighting the laughter itching at his throat. “Think you’re talking shit.” 

“But you know I’m not,” you softly rasped, free hand bunching up at the front of Harry’s t-shirt, nails catching against the hairy trail on his stomach. “‘M trying to say I’m sorry.” 

“‘M listening, keep going,” he hummed, eyes closed and face blissfully aware he had gotten his own way. You scrunched your nose at his interjection, knowing how much he was thriving at the way you were skirting around your apology. 

“You’re such a wanker-“

The breathy laugh that left his mouth had you melting into him, the softest nudge of your lips to his accompanied by a gasped intake of breath as Harry opened his mouth wider. 

Hand pressed against his face, you enjoyed feeling the way his jaw extended as he gave you more of him. A satisfied hum lulled your kissing to an erotic stroking of tongues that had him chasing you when you lips parted.

You tilted your head back as he tried to catch your lips with his again, body jostling in the close confinement when he fallen short of his prize. 

“Darling,” he drawled, nosing along the center of your neck, your fingers clawing through the hair on the back of his head. You enjoyed the feeling of his face squashed against your skin as he muffled his protests at you not letting him have your lips and have his way. 

His playful growl when he broke free of your vice grip to his hair caused you to gleefully squeal, still thrashing to create a cat and mouse game over the sharing of kisses. 

By pressing his feet against the arm of the couch, Harry managed to create a leverage over your body. He rolled slightly, face pressed heavily into your cheek as he caught his breath.

“Darling, why’re you being like tha’? I’m trying to show I’m sorry too,” he heavily breathed. “Put it back.”

“Ask nicely,” you panted in return, hand toying above his aching buldge. 

“‘M always nice-“ you shook your head at his words. “No? ‘M sorry, sorry darlin’-“

His apology fell away from his lips as you grazed at his heavy bulge, a breathy chuckle bouncing against your already wet and messy lips. 

“Can a bloke not read a book while in quarantine in peace?”

“He can if he wants,” you spoke light, hands playing at the waistband of his underwear before sliding down and gently gripping at his bum cheek.

“Wha’ ya doin’?” 

“‘S it look like?”

“Like you’re gonna give me a handy.” 

“Harry,” you stressed his name as he chucked at his pathetic attempt at a joke. 

“Jus’ go with it,” he smiled, eyes closed and content, as he rested his head back slightly.

“Only if you help,” you started, you hand stroking gently back around to his lower abdomen. “Look at me.”

“Look at you, takin’ charge. Want me to wank in front of yer?”

“Do you want me to play with you or not?”

Harry cupped the back of your neck, letting the question die against his lips as he eagerly coaxed your mouth to open up again. Yes, he would like that very much. 

Your hand fell still at the top of his underpants as the two of you necked on, lying along the sofa like teens that had their parents house free for a whole weekend; all choked groans and light sighs as neither of you wanted to part.

When you finally came to your senses, you dropped your hand and slid it over the cotton of Harry’s underwear. He felt heavy and warm, his arousal present but you still had enough of a chance to toy with him. 

Massaging him through the cotton of his briefs, the sinful groans leaving his lips had you eager to get started. Your hand, ahead of your brain, pushed underneath the waistband as Harry choked at you to slow down.

“‘M too dry,” he mumbled, looking down at you, all soft double chin and stubble. He seemed conflicted, knowing it was a necessary step but just as eager. “Hang on-“

The shuffle of his body caused you to frown as you tried to anchor yourself to him and not fall off the side of the couch. The two of you chuckled as he felt the way you almost slid out from underneath his grip, his whispered “I‘ve got yer” almost lost against the sound of your creaking couch.

His hand slid down against the top of yours and gently squeezed against both his aching cock and your much more nimble fingers.

“You always feel so heavy in my hand, H,” you whispered sultrily. “Let me have it.”

Harry breathed deeply through his nose as you felt the way he circled his hand around your wrist and gently tugged upwards. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he pressed the softest of wet kisses to the inside of your palm, his tongue, as pink as his lips, gently licked at your skin. His eyes were closed, a dip to his brows as he embodied a high level of erotic passion. 

Lips puckered and skimming up against your fingers, you felt the way Harry opened his mouth wider, soft tongue now lapping gently at the fingertips of your middle and third finger.

With half a smirk gracing your lips, you slowly lifted your eyes from his mouth, vision tracing up his features before you found his awaiting hazy stare, strong on yours. 

You were enjoying the lewd gesture and his commitment to holding your gaze, as you felty yourself flush with unnecessary embarrassment at the visual of your sodden fingers softly slipping from his lips.

The string of saliva left behind by his ardent sucking, coupled with the soft bounce of his bottom lips as you playfully pull at it with the tips of your fingers, had you incessantly mesmerised and craving to kiss.

Harry less than gracefully pushed down at your hand, as the digits of his right palm loosely became woven into the hair on the back of your head. 

Jolting forward and breathing heavily against each other’s mouths, Harry licked gently into your mouth and pushed down at his underwear using your fingers.

You giggled at his desperate movements and enjoyed the way his mouth went slack against yours as you grasped at his cock, with ease this time. Trembling breath bouncing against your lips, so satisfying for you. 

Harry was always vocal, but there was something about him as he lay squashed against you in the dimming evening light that brought out a wildness unmatched. 

The slide of your hand along his shaft eased a coiled tension within Harry as he heavily breathed against the corner of your mouth incoherent praise and subconsciously raised his hips upwards into your enclosed grip as you dared to loosen your fingers around him. 

He was greedy for it. His hand once more pulling against the back of your shirt, so the hem now no longer covered your backside but instead sat awkwardly against your lower back.

His moans became muffled as he rolled his lips into his mouth, and caused your vision to blur from the way he heavily pressed his face into yours.

“Fuck me, ‘m gonna come,” he spoke, voice deeper than before, his words lazier as they omitted from him before he gulped. “Unugh, pull me out.”’

Left hand free, Harry beat you to his request. With briefs now bunched against his thighs he tried his hardest to get them down his body, with a rub of his thighs as he gripped firmly at your thigh.

His hand slid up your smooth skin, fingers finding your bare arse cheek and slapping against your taught skin as he encouraged you to wrap your thigh over his hip.

“Gonna leave some cracking marks all over this body by the time I’m done with you,” he spoke firmly into the column of your throat. “Leaning back from me wi’out me ‘aving to tell you an’all- giving me the space I need to shag you just right.” 

He took his time to see the way you’d arched for him, head somewhat hanging over the side of the couch as he tried to figure out how to line himself up and please you the only way he knew how. 

“Where’d you want me?” he groused, eyes looking down to the pull of your hips towards each other, “Hm? Here okay? With your fingers or mine?” 

You wetly whimpered at him, scratching your nails against the skin of his naval before you pressed the palm he had previously licked flat against your centre. Grinding down against your skin, the heel of your palm bumped salaciously against your clit. 

“Dirty girl, knows what she wants,” he reached between you, the heat of your core attracting his aching cock that easily as it aligned itself to you. “Sit back on me, gently… Gentle.” 

Your fingers could feel the way his cock sunk into you, disappearing inch by inch until your hand was awkwardly squashed between the both of your pelvises. 

Somehow you managed to slide your hand around to Harry’s soft hips where you dipped your fingertips into his skin. His mouth sucked at your sternum, revelling in the feel of you having taken him all. 

“Giving me your belly,” he confirmed, “Took me all the way, doll. Want all of me, all of my apology eh.”

“God, Harry,” you keened. “Do something.”

He rocked his hips, pressing his feet into the arm of the couch to create a nice leverage and force that tensed his thighs and started a rustling sound against the couch material. 

“I am,” he stressed, softly gritting his teeth and seeing you watch him through hooded eyelids. “Don’t just lay there and take me,” he mouthed against your lips. “Give me as good as you get, yeah,” he chuckled as he felt the pressure of your pushing into him, stepping up to his request. 

“You’re my favourite lover,” he gasped.

“I better be your only lover,” you breathlessly threatened, tilting your head back. He hummed as he burrowed his head deeper into your jaw. 

“You’re the only one I shag like this,” he replied, hand sliding down when he felt your thighs start to give way. “Thighs up or ‘m stopping.”

You whined feeling a burning sensation forming in the crease of your thigh as you tried to keep yourself as closely connected to Harry as possible. “You wouldn’t,” you goaded him, the heel of your foot running against the back of his hairy thigh.

“Wouldn’t I?” He questioned, brushing back your hair that was starting to get sweaty. When you thought about it, the whole of your body was. 

The warmth radiating from each tilt and rock of your hips a little easier with formed sweat and arousal, while the feel of Harry’s hand splayed out against arse cheek, made you feel owned. 

He held you tight as he slowly moved against you, rocking back and forth as you self-soothed egos and bruised hearts. Heavy breaths mingled between kisses as he admitted his love for you and you for him. 

“Missed you today,” he murmured against your cheekbone.

“I’ve been here-“

He nudged his nose against you now, as he shook his head. “Been different, sick of me and these four walls. Beginning to climb ‘em, ain’t we? Have’ta tell me, so I can ‘ave a go at fixing it.”

“Isn’t that why we are argued to begin with, cause of your fixing-“

His lips quirked at your quickness, “Smart arse.”

Humming, you brushed his hair away, scratching by his ear and hearing his pleased purrs at your shower of affections. 

“We’re good, show me we’re good-“ you dipped your head back as he pulled you tighter against him, thrusting and creating the first clapping sound of your skin that evening. “Yes, show me we’re better than good.” 

Harry felt the way your skin was tacky against his, his hand peeling away from your bum to your thigh. A weird humidity had  clouded the lounge not usually felt in the British Spring Time, woven with the heady smell of your sex and unadulterated love.

All space was eliminated between both of your bodies as he knocked up into you, skin rubbing from the force. 

“Why didn’t you take off this bloody shirt?” You groaned, scratching your nails against the fabric, as you clung to him. 

“Cause someone could wait to have her way wi’me,” he chimed, voice light and singing. “God you want it don’t you?”

He could feel the way you were squeezing at him, releasing a guttural gasp at his questioning of you. You pulled him deeper than anyone has ever been able to do and that made him proud. Proud to call you his. His lover, his wife. His lifetime. 

“Harry, I’m gonna come,” you panted, high-pitched and positively annoying to anyone outside your shared lust. Nails again irritatingly scratched against his back, this time he was thankful he kept his t-shirt on, not wanting to deal with any stinging skin in the shower later on.

With each forceful thrust, he pressed at your arse forcing your hips into his as he pulled you into him. He knew you were fast approaching your release, a change in the way you writhed against him and produced keening whines that pulled a smugness like no other from his chest. 

Hair falling against his forehead, sweaty and unforgiving, Harry rested his forehead against yours and sucked passionately at your bruise lips and lapped at your saltiness. His focus zoned in on only you, your hitching breath on his face and tired body heavier in arms.

He knew you were spent but he was grateful for your trying. Eyes halfway shut but lips managing to entice him by forming his name faintly and loud enough for him to hear. The erotic murmur easily made a mess of him faster than your loudest moans only moments earlier.

This was yours. This was his.

No one saw you like this but him. No one saw him like this but you.

“‘M so in love wi’you,” he admitted, watching your eyes roll back into your head, body trembling as you got closer to your peak. “Giving me a good one, tha’ I don’t deserve.”

He smiled as he watched the way you rubbed against him, as he felt you squeeze around him, pulling a choked moan from him as he squeezed at the back of your neck with his right hand, and quickened the motion of his hips.

“Don’t stop,” you panted heavily, body tightening as your mouth fell open, silently. Eyes fluttering shut as you babbled his name and he changed the roll of his hips to deep nudges to get him what he wanted from your sensitivity. 

Your body went slack against him as he bottomed out inside of you, he mouthed into your skin, “Know you're tired but don’t go still on me. Love me back.”

Mewling at his breathy request, you tried to match his deep thrusts as best you could, feeling his hand against your clit. “Harry,” you whispered in a warning.

“Okay, okay, I won’t- had enough?”

“Want some more,” you hummed, even though you knew you shouldn’t, already feeling faintly sore. 

He growled, through his closed mouth, bum cheeks clenched as he felt the way you took him. Selfless and affectionate. In that moment, he knew he would never find another like you. 

And that was enough for him to give you everything he had.

And you took it all. Fingers woven through the back of his head, clinging to his head as he burrowed down into your neck. Fierce grunts muffled and chest tight, gasping for air. 

Your come down was bittersweet. The feel of Harry softening between your legs, before resting between them in a way that was wet and spent. A familiar moment. 

Harry took his time admiring you, gaze looking at your flushed out cheeks and sparkling eyes. 

The two of you lay in silence, Harry brushing back your hair before pushing himself up and leaning on his hand. Looking up at him, you swore you’d never seen anyone more handsome and comfortable within themselves.

The crack of an elastic waistband caused you to look down your bodies as you watched the way he fidgeted with his underpants that he had just pulled back on.

“Why’ve you done that. Take ‘em back off,” you poured, looking up at him wide eyed. He chuckled down at you and your demanding words. 

“‘S gone cold, y’know,” he hummed. “Won’t do so much for my ego, if you see wha’ it’s like down there when ‘m cold.”

“Does the job alright for me,” you said, pulling him down to you. 

With a chuckle, he pecked you’re lips to try and satiate you, before he pulled away. Eyes falling onto your two mugs of tea that sat within arms reach on your coffee table. 

“‘M fuckin’ parched,” he said. “Hold onto me a sec.”

Before you could think, Harry was rolling his body over yours, doing his best to keep his weight off you completely. You clenched your fingers into his shirt, watching him with wide eyes as he scooped up his mug and took a sip.

“‘S gone cold,” he murmured, before he swigged at the drink again. You looked up at him in all your double chin glory.

“No change there then. Gonna have to start rationing the tea bags cause you’re taking the piss not drinking the teas I make you.”

He dropped his gaze, eyes looking at yours. “D’ya need some tissue to clean up?”

You hummed, not wanting to make a move. 

“Gonna have to start rationing the toilet roll cause you're taking the piss-“ he didn’t get to finish his sentence before you covered his mouth with your hand.

And if he knew what was good for him he wouldn’t finish it either.

***

Shout out to my usual suspects who always put up with my bullshit @waitingfortwilight, @harryfeatgaga, @huccimermaidshirts, @haute-romance-quotidienne, @majorharry and @for-fucks-sake-h. Also, @harrysonlyangelsss and @sweetcreatureinthedark, because why not?

Big up @waitingfortwilight for the title <3

[lovelylogans]

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!

chapter one: qualia

qualia: in philosophy and certain models of psychology, qualia are defined as individual instances of subjective, conscious experience. philosopher and cognitive scientist daniel dennett once suggested that qualia was "an unfamiliar term for something that could not be more familiar to each of us: the ways things seem to us.”

JANUS

Janus almost always develops a headache when he has to deal with the latest idiot intern at the firm, but this headache is beyond the pale. Then again, so is this intern. He has never met a uni student that is more destined to become an obnoxiously vocal Tory. It’s like someone granted a novel about Etonian history his wish to become a real boy.

“Out,” he bellows at the intern who has been attempting to stick himself to Janus's side, unable to pick up on the fact that his repeated mentions of his father, you know, the chancellor of the high court, is doing the opposite of impressing everyone around him. 

This intern—Janus is going to make it a point to never remember his name now—has probably never been yelled at in his life. He gives Janus a very offended look, sniffs, and retreats from Janus's office, likely to bother whatever barrister he hasn’t yet told about the blatant nepotism that has gotten him into their office.

Janus puts his elbows on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing slowly in and out. Though the intern has certainly exacerbated the headache at hand, he’s had the headache since he inexplicably woke up at four in the morning. 

He’s taken paracetamol, he’s tried hydrating, and drinking caffeine, and rubbing his temples, and even wearing the blue light glasses Key swears by, but there’s been no luck. His head’s throbbing just as badly now as it did when he woke up from a dream about a strange American wearing a pale brown cardigan and a pink tie.

The man had gone pale and sweaty as if he was ill, leaning back against air, clutching at nothing, like he’d hoped to find someone’s hand to hold, but despite the pain he seemed to be in, he’d stared straight at Janus, beaming and wide-eyed. 

“I see them,” the man had whispered. He’d opened his free arm as if to offer a hug. “Oh, they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, my dear. My darling.”

You’re beautiful, my dear, my darling…

Janus rubs at his forehead. If he’d been so beautiful and dear and darling, he would have appreciated being left without this migraine as the price of the compliment.

“You,” he barks at the nearest intern walking by his office—a mousy little thing, a girl who’s swimming in a cardigan that makes his eyes throb with a familiarity he can’t recognize—“I’ll let you assist on this case if you get me a tea with two sugars, right now.”

She perks up. “Really?”

“Right now,” he thunders, and the girl practically squeaks before she heads for the building’s refectory with its in-house café.

Janus tries his hardest not to smile to himself, really he does, but the best part of intern season is scaring the interns. What is he supposed to do, not revel in their suffering?

He’s about to reach for his smartphone resting on his desk when he feels a buzz against his sternum.

He pauses, glances toward the door, before he swivels around his desk chair and opens a lower cabinet as if he’s searching for a file; instead, he reaches into his innermost breast pocket to pull out his other phone. This one is a good deal cheaper than the one resting on the table; that is by design.

He glances at the window to double-check the reflections, that no one is watching him—they aren’t—before he unlocks the phone and looks at the message.

K: jazza, you found anything yet?

Janus scowls at the phone. Honestly.

J: Do you want to get arrested, Key? Because rushing this job is how you get arrested.

K: aint that the reason ur a big fancy barrister in the first place

J: Do they want to put up the rush fee?

He turns back to his desk and manages to get some actual, legal, non-shady work done before the phone buzzes.

K: no.

If pixels could look sullen, these ones do.

J: Then tell them to put up or shut up.

A pause.

J: And don’t text me for inane little updates during actual people’s work hours again. You are specifically only to contact me during these hours for emergencies.

He shuts off the phone and tucks it into his breast pocket again before Key can respond. The nerve of some people. He’ll do the work, fine, but people needed to realize they’d get what they paid for. For the information that Key’s clientele wants him to retrieve, they’ll have to put up quite a bit more cash for him to move at anything beyond a snail’s pace.

A knock at the door. Janus gives the girl his most imperious look. 

“Here you are, sir,” she says, handing over one insulated to-go mug, keeping another one in her hands. 

“Yes, fine, fine,” he says, taking it. “What’s your name again?”

“Emma, sir.”

“Emma,” he repeats. He takes a sip of the tea.

Or, he expects to take a sip of tea. What he gets is a mouthful of coffee. 

Very good coffee, very high-quality coffee, but coffee, and lukewarm at that. He pulls a face instinctively.

“What did you get me?”

Emma immediately looks petrified. “Tea with two sugars, sir?”

Janus frowns at her, then examines the side, where the tea option is ticked off. If they’ve managed to mess up the order, at least they’d given him the good-quality stuff, even if it did taste like it had been sitting on a desk for an hour. He takes another cautious sip.

Tea. Sweetened, hot tea, fresh from the café.

He’s never had a headache this bad before. So maybe he doesn’t know that headaches this bad can mess with his sense of smell. And temperature. Now that he thinks of it, he is feeling really quite hot, even though the building’s air conditioning is blasting.

“...Very good,” he says slowly, and then proceeds to nudge a perilously tall stack of manila files toward her. “Read the top one so you can get reacquainted with the case.”

Emma takes the file immediately, and, just for a moment, just for barely a flash, Janus could swear he’d seen someone walking in the hall in their pajamas and bunny slippers in the reflection of his office windows.

He looks at it more directly.

No. It’s just Emma’s reflection and his. Janus's office, furnished in dark woods and leather desk chairs, his fine suit, the damningly recognizable birthmark and scar splashed across his face.

Janus frowns at himself in the window, turns away, and reaches for his own manila file.

VIRGIL

Getting off the plane from America to South Africa is always an experiment in temperature adjustment. 

He takes off his hoodie in between the shuffle of getting off the plane to going to the baggage claim, tying it around his waist, leaving him just in a purple t-shirt and his ripped jeans. 

It doesn’t help that he’s got a headache that’s absolutely killing him.

By the time he gets there, his baggage is already waiting at the side of a woman with her hair wrapped in a scarf, her glasses resting low on her nose; they look new, and it makes Virgil’s chest hurt—what else has he missed since he’s been across the world?

Virgil’s mother, Andisiwe, beams at him. “Virgil!”

“I’ve missed you, Mama,” he says in Xhosa because ever since he was a child jetting back and forth for school breaks she’s been worried about him losing his mother tongue. 

She laughs, hugging him tight and warm, and he wraps his arms around her in kind, closing his eyes tight. This is the longest he’s been from her since he was born. She’d been in America to teach for a year and a half at Johns Hopkins when she’d met his father, and then Virgil happened. 

He couldn’t have gone back to South Africa with her, a black woman with a mixed-race child, not during apartheid. His white father had had to bring him home to his white wife, and white children, and initiate what would eventually become a long, messy divorce.

But he doesn’t like to think about that, and he won’t, not today, not when he’s finally back here. He’s missed her, and Pretoria, and his jacarandas, and his grandmother’s recipe for coconut pitha, and umngqusho, and proper, African coffee more than he can say.

All he’d drunk in the States was tea because he didn’t want to be reminded of home; he can taste it lingering in the back of his throat, even now.

“Or should I say, Doctor Virgil Wright-Nkosi,” she says, beaming at him wide, and Virgil ducks his head, grinning even through how awkward he feels. 

“I’m a doctor of botany, it’s not the same as you,” or Dad, he tacks on in his mind, taking his suitcase and gesturing her ahead of him; she trades him with a to-go cup of coffee, which he sips eagerly. It’s such a perfect taste of home that he doesn’t even care that it’s lukewarm.

“Quite right,” she says, leading their way through the airport. “Ph.D. is different from an M.D., I’m thrilled my employer has taught you so excellently in your undergrad—”

Virgil laughs, again, but his foot slips on the smooth airport tile, and he looks down instinctively, and his breath catches in his throat, laughter dying in his mouth, freezing where he stands, because if he takes one more step he is going to die he is going to die he is going to fucking die—

There’s this tight feeling across his chest like a band and suddenly he’s not looking down at clean airport tile but he’s looking down at a yawning expanse of air between himself and the ground at least three stories up and he’s standing on a thin metal bar and if he keeps moving he’s going to fall he’s going to die

“Virgil?”

Virgil looks toward his mother, breath seized in his throat, and—

And he’s at the airport again. Bustling crowds, pinging PA system, his mother, a hand reaching toward him in concern.

“Virgil, are you all right?”

Virgil swallows once, twice, squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes his head to clear it; he opens them again.

Airport. His mom. The crowd. And, just a flash, weaving in and out of the people, there’s a big man with tattoos, and he’s wearing bunny slippers. It’s strange enough that it manages to shake him out of it better than any physical gesture could.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds strained to his own ears. “Yeah. Um—jet lag, I think.”

Andisiwe surveys him, before she nods, once, decisively.

“Finish that coffee,” she says. “You know how much worse it’ll get if you let yourself fall asleep now.”

Virgil takes a long pull from his cup—bitter, dark, African coffee. Home. He’s home.

Jet lag, he tells himself. Jet lag, and that weird dream you had on the plane. That’s all this is.

REMUS

“The fucking rat bastard bitch-ass sorry shit-stain of a cunt,” Remus pants to himself, as quietly as he can when he’s heaving for breath and sprinting along the forest floor. Remus wasn’t particularly athletic in the first place—one doesn’t really become a horror author if they’re a star athlete, do they?—but when one is running for their life, things like “stitches in my side” and “is that blood I taste in the back of my mouth” kind of take a back seat to things like, you know, continued survival.

Remus nearly trips over a vine, which he verbally abuses for a few hundred more feet, (“fucking useless pieces of shit fucking—”) before he manages to slip and stumble into the shelter of something like a cave. He checks it—as much as he likes wildlife mauling other people, in theory, it kind of goes against this whole survival thing if he wanders into a cave only to get his throat ripped out by a bobcat.

As he casts back the hood of his jacket and mops his brow of sweat, looking back and forth to ensure he hasn’t been tracked, and his heart rate returns to something like normal, turns his mind back to Miguel fucking Contreras. 

That fucking bastard was lucky he was dead, and even so, Remus might go back and dig up his freshly-turned grave with nothing but his own two fucking hands and he’d gladly break a hundred of his fingers and turn his knuckles into right-angled wrongness just to reach in there and grab his rotting corpse and wring his neck to kill him again.

He didn’t even kill him the first time, that’s the unbearable thing! He’d wanted to kill him and someone swooped in and did it before Remus ever could!

Remus spits on the ground, furious, and even more furious that everything with him is so vital he can’t risk destroying any of it in a rage—his clothes, his last couple testosterone pills, a burner phone he’d stolen off someone who reminded him of his own wretched abuela a couple cities back and kept shut off ever since. She’d been yelling at some homeless kids trying to get some pesos for a goddamn meal, though, so Remus felt as if he’d performed a public service by making her day worse.

He’d managed to snatch her purse and empty it out, too. The kids got a meal, Remus got a meal, everyone won.

Remus chances a peek around the forest once again, just to ensure he hasn’t been tailed, and—

He shrinks back into the cave at the sight of a large man jogging by. He’s very big, very tall, very tattooed, and very confused, by the looks of it. Like he’s sleep-walked miles into the forest and now doesn’t know his way back.

The man pivots on his foot, walks out of Remus's view behind a tree, and doesn’t resume walking again.

Remus's eyes narrow. He tenses his muscles, ready to start sprinting again, but that man had looked rather big and strong, and therefore much more decisively athletic than Remus.

But minutes pass, and the man doesn’t emerge again.

Remus creeps out, just enough to see past the tree, and—

No. The man is gone.

Anyone else might think that they were losing it. Anyone else might think that they were going crazy.

Remis is fully aware that he’s crazy, though, so he shrugs and returns his attention to sorting through his bag, except—

His fingers run through the money he has, and they aren’t pesos anymore. Remus frowns at the sight of the money, holding it up to the meager light to see it.

There definitely isn’t an old white lady on pesos usually.

“The fuck?”

“Erm.”

Remus whips his head around, very suddenly aware that he isn’t in a cave anymore.

He’s in an apartment. A swanky apartment. The air conditioning is blasting—Remus hasn’t been in air-conditioned surroundings for so long, and he nearly melts under the feel of it, cooling the sweat coating his face, running down his back.

A white man lowers his glasses down his nose and frowns at Remus. The way his mouth moves twists up the scar on the side of the face. He’s holding up a handful of pesos.

“Well, first of all, I really need to send a note so they improve security around this place,” the man says in an undertone. Then, “second of all, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to need those pounds to pay for my takeaway.”

Remus stares.

“I’ve ordered Indian food to my office,” he continues, “and I’d think that they’d prefer the national currency in exchange for my food. I’ve been craving samosas something awful.”

Samosas do sound good. Any food sounds good, Remus thinks, as his stomach growls with envy. 

Remus slowly extends his handful of the old white lady money. The white man places the pesos into Remus's hand, taking his money back at the same time.

“Much obliged,” the white man says and disappears. 

Remus blinks down at his handful of pesos, then looks around. No more air conditioning, or swanky office, or promise of takeout. 

He shakes his head.

“If I hadn’t lost it before,” he mutters aloud and goes back to counting his money.

Well. It’s not like Remus's brain is any great loss.

LOGAN

Logan gives a cursory peek through the telescope and grumbles, pulling back and rubbing his forehead. Fantastic. On top of this untimely migraine, his equipment has decided to throw a tantrum, too.

He’s known technology can be fiddly even in the best of conditions. He’s known that cold can adversely affect equipment. And yet, for some reason, it is still constantly frustrating when it does happen. Which in turn is frustrating; he should expect cold conditions to interfere with any equipment that he uses for his space research. He’s in Antarctica. 

Logan makes effort to simply narrow his eyes at the telescope before him, fiddling with the lens. He has half a mind to ask it there, will you behave now? but considering it is simply scientific equipment, it will not answer. Therefore, there is no reason to speak.

Logan rubs his forehead again, and, for the brief moment before his hand obscures his eyes, he sees a flash of something.

Logan squints, lowering his hand. But no, he decides; he just sees snow, rock, the local wildlife. 

But for a moment he could have sworn, while he was looking out at the sea, that he’d seen a large, tattooed man looking out at the sea, too.

No, he decides. It couldn’t have possibly been; this headache, coupled with the general brightness of the world right now, is making him see things.

There is no way he’d just seen, in the midst of an Antarctic island, a large, tattooed man in pajamas and bunny slippers.

ROMAN

Fuck if it’s not early, but fuck if he’s not having a blast.

“Do we wanna run it one more time?!” Roman hollers down from the catwalks.

“I should’ve known better than to give you a fly scene,” María says ruefully. Roman blows down kisses from where he’s strapped in, harness tight across his chest, the camera crew looking dutifully to María to see what the verdict is.

A long pause. She sighs and waves a hand. “Set up for the close-up landing!”

Roman whoops to himself, shifting on his own two feet. He never gets to do stunts, much less stunts like this. All his movies are machismo, punching people and firing guns, and sure, this one is full of all that, but at least this time he gets to spend a day flying around on wires like he’s a superhero.

Which is ironic, considering he’d started his career in movies as a stuntman. But now his pretty face is too high-market-value to risk it doing the thing he’s been trained to do.

But whatever! Today he gets to fly around! Today he gets to throw himself into saying his lines! Today he gets to throw himself into his script and his acting and his costars! 

Today he gets to spend it on set and not lying in bed taken down by this godawful migraine and scrolling through his phone with his heart in his throat to see if there are any developments in the news! 

Today he gets to tell Sasha all about the day he’s had in his usual bright and happy voice! It’s a great day!

Roman shuffles on his feet, waiting for the “action!” to be called when he hears the tell-tale rumbling shriek of a plane flying overhead, and Roman bites back a sigh; that’s going to delay the shoot of the scene for sure while they wait on that, so Roman slumps, looking for something to occupy either his hands or his brain with, but then—

“Quiet on set!” María barks. 

“We aren’t going to hold for the plane?” Roman asks, confused.

“What plane?” María says.

“I thought—” Roman says, and frowns; from where he is in the catwalks, he can’t exactly look up and see the sky, but even then the angle of sound seems wrong; it’s like he’s walking past an airfield, planes taking off and landing all at once.

“Never mind,” Roman calls down weakly. “Thought I heard something, must have been tech stuff.”

María looks up at him, eyes narrowed briefly before she shrugs, and repeats, “Quiet on set!”

Roman shakes out his shoulders, intent on getting into the mind of Pablo Márquez, and out of his own.

⁂

Roman’s got an icepack under his shoulder and on his forehead, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Okay, so, maybe he got a bit too into it today. Whatever. It’s not his fault he’s stuck with a killer migraine, and it’s definitely not his fault that the person who fastened his harness clearly didn’t know what he was talking about; you’d think that now he was the big star, people would be more cautious with him than they were when he was a stuntman, but what does Roman know? He’s just the pretty face.

But whatever. He’s got a breather for a while as his costar shoots a few scenes with her supposed father (a twist of the movie is that her father is not, in fact, her father) and so he’s taking the time to sit and relax.

He’s going to relax.

Really.

...oh, who is he kidding. Roman immediately rolls to grab his phone from where he’d set it on the minuscule table in his trailer, and loads the page to El Universal.

He’s got the search down to a science, really. He starts with the wider, more professional news sources—ergo El Universal—and then gradually meanders his way down, through the magazines, then the tabloids, then the blogs dedicated to the writings of R.J. Duke.

When he’s really desperate, he checks Twitter.

He turns out to be really desperate every day, though. 

He isn’t really sure how not to be desperate when one’s brother is on the run for committing murder.

He definitely isn’t sure how not to be desperate when one’s brother is only revealed to not be his brother under a thin guise that someone might find out any minute.

He absolutely isn’t sure how not to be desperate when any day now, someone will crack it, and they’ll raid his apartment to see if Roman was hiding him (Roman would absolutely hide him if Remus would just come to him) and ask him questions, and how is Roman supposed to respond when they ask him if Remus would be capable of murder, no? Fucking obviously Remus would be capable of murder.

And the thing is, he is desperate. He’s desperate to get news of how Remus is doing, where on earth Remus is, if he’s okay.

And then he wonders what kind of person he is, to be so willing to set aside that his brother might have killed someone. He’d like to think that he’d do the right thing and turn Remus in, but he is also sure that he absolutely wouldn’t.

But the question is, does Remus know that? Does Remus know that Roman would throw everything, everything—his fame, his fancy apartment, his money—just to be sure that Remus was safe, that Remus was with him?

They’d been so entrenched in their petty disagreements over the years that Roman isn’t sure that Remus does.

The thought that his brother might not know Roman loves him is a thousand times more painful than this headache will be.

Remus is his brother. His twin brother, the only person in the world who understands Roman; for all their differences, for all their disagreements, he and Remus have always understood each other. They’ve always been on a wavelength no one else has, in sync and in step with each other. They’d even been born at exactly the same time, by virtue of their mother’s c-section. 

How is Roman meant to just set that aside?!

So he lies on the couch in his trailer, scrolling obsessively through a Twitter search of his brother’s pen name and his legal name and his actual name, eyebrows drawn together further and further.

He’s so lost in chasing down clues, he doesn’t even notice the large, pajama-clad man appearing in his trailer and disappearing again, between five blinks of the eye.

PATTON

The view in front of Patton is crystalline and beautiful, dark gray rock and snow a blindingly clear shade of white and the ocean, constantly shifting between deep, lovely blue and bottle-green depths; ice, and rock, and the sun glinting off the sea and the snow, so bright that it almost hurts to look at it. 

It’s so lovely that Patton would gladly spend all day looking at it, if not for the deep chill working its way into his bones as if he’s been here for months instead of minutes. Which is kind of confusing, but he doesn’t think his flannel pajamas and bunny slippers probably don’t make the cut of approved winter gear, so that might be it.

And also the part where Patton went to bed in his apartment in Auckland because of his blindingly bad migraine, and he has woken up in some wintry wasteland. That part’s kind of confusing him, too.

There’s a particularly sharp gust of wind, and Patton squints, turning his face away and lifting his hand. The breeze lessens, and Patton lowers his hand.

He’s in an office.

A nice office, the kind with hardwood floors that would click under his feet if he weren’t wearing slippers and the big, floor-to-ceiling windows that speaks of a recent, expensive renovation, a door ajar. He walks forward to peek into it—

—and finds himself looking inside of a cramped little trailer, a man flung out dramatically on the couch, one arm over his forehead, not able to cover the anguish on his face, and the other scrolling through his phone.

He takes a step forward, and just like before, without any sense of transition, just one blink and he’s not in a trailer anymore, he’s outside, standing at the foot of a mountain stretching for forever above him, moving quickly on his feet, jogging alongside a hooded man sprinting down a barely-worn path—

He takes a step forward, and his foot lands on the carpet.

“Goodness,” a man says, with a familiar, amused tone. “You’ve been walking quite far, haven’t you?”

Patton looks up to see a man—the parent he’d thought he’d seen yesterday. He’s in the same cardigan and dress shirt, looking rather rumpled, but his tie has, at least, been loosened from around his throat. The lights are off, the only light filtering weakly through the windows. The man is lying down in his bed, looking pale and sickly.

The room would look quite depressing if not for the laptop blaring a cartoon—an American one Patton doesn’t know—and various assorted cartoon art and sculptures as clutter around the room. His duvet has a subtle pattern that Patton, after tilting his head, looks a bit like gemstones.

“...I think so,” Patton says cautiously. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”

“No, it never does,” the man says, smiling. “Even when you’ve walked halfway ‘round the world.”

For lack of anything to say—other than who are you, what’s happening to me, what on earth is going on—Patton keeps quiet.

“I like your tattoos,” the man continues.

“Oh, thank you,” Patton says, twisting his arms so that the cardiganed man can see them, swelling with pride. They are a big part of his culture, his history, himself, after all. “They’re tā moko.”

“Tā moko,” the man repeats as if committing it to memory.

“I’m Māori,” Patton adds because he can place the accent now—American. And, well, nothing against Americans, it’s just that he isn’t sure how much the average American knows about the indigenous populations of other continents.

“Indigenous to,” the man says, and his eyes narrow for a moment. “New Zealand, right?”

Patton nods to the man, before he says, “Where am I?”

“Oh, excuse my manners, please sit down,” the man says, gesturing to an empty spot on his comfy-looking bed. Patton sits. It is comfy.

“I’m just so excited, you see, I’ve spent most of the past day recovering, so you’re the first one I’ve met. I’d expect you to be recovering, too, this is either a fortunately-timed fluke or you seem to be getting the hang of this very fast. Doesn’t your head hurt?”

“Terribly,” Patton admits, then, “First of who?” 

Before the man can answer his question, his brain flashes with images from today—an airport, dark catwalks, a yawning cliff face, that fancy-schmancy office. 

“Well,” the man says. “I’m Dr. Emile Picani.” 

For whatever reason, it feels like he should have known that name already; his name slips into Patton’s mind like a key turning a long-forgotten lock.

“And,” the man continues, “you’re technically wherever your body is now.”

“Auckland.”

“Auckland,” he repeats. “Patton the Māori from Auckland. Oh, how wonderful, I don’t think I know any of our kind anywhere near Australia or New Zealand yet.”

“Our,” Patton says, and his brow wrinkles. “Our kind?”

“Patton, my darling,” Emile says warmly, leaning forward to put a hand on Patton’s. “Have you been walking around in other places? Feeling things that aren’t there, seeing people that aren’t there?”

“Yes,” Patton says.

“Those would be your cluster,” Emile says, and the word buries itself deep in Patton’s heart with an aggressively radiating kind of warmth, instantaneously fond, like he’s loved them all along but just now realized it. My cluster. It may as well be my family, that’s how much love he feels. 

“Your body is in Auckland, still, but right now, your mind? You’re visiting me in Florida.”

Patton can’t help but smile a little. “I’ve never been outside of New Zealand before.”

Emile smiles back at him, warm and comforting, and it feels just as familiar as looking at the face of his father.

“Patton, dear, you are no longer just you.”

REMY

Remy turns from where he’s making a mug of green tea to see that he’s in Emile’s room.

“Babe,” Remy says, reflexive, before he sees the look on Emile’s face; and he understands immediately.

“Fuck, are they still here?”

Emile, still smiling, shakes his head just a touch regretfully. “You just missed him.”

That piques Remy’s attention. “Him? You’ve got a son?”

“He’s not technically my son,” Emile says bashfully; they swap, effortless after so long, and Emile takes a sip of Remy’s green tea using Remy’s hands, Remy’s ] mouth. Remy takes that time to use Emile’s body to settle more comfortably in the bed, and he places a cool, wet washcloth across Emile’s forehead.

They swap back without losing a beat; this rhythm between them has existed for a decade, Emile’s psychic birth isn’t about to trip them up. Sure, it looks different to him than it does to Emile; right now, to Remy, it’s like Emile’s curled up in his Nicean apartment, just at home in France as he is in Florida. To Emile, he knows, it’s like Remy’s appeared in his bedroom, oddly dressed for the Florida spring.

“Your psychic son, then,” Remy teases, then it clicks. “Wait, you’ve seen one of them already? How long did it take one of us to see Harley after the activation—?”

Emile waves a hand in a so-so type gesture. “Linny saw Dalisay and she kind of served as a mentor for her, didn’t she? That was the closest to a non-cluster visit that we got.”

“And that was after three days or so,” Remy muses. “Hm.”

“Yeah,” Emile agrees. “I dunno if it’s a fluke or if Patton’s just really well-adapted for this life.”

“Patton,” Remy repeats. 

Honestly, he isn’t really sure how to handle this; the closest he could get to preparing for his boyfriend’s psychic birth is googling things about being a stepdad, and that’s not even slightly close to what’s actually happening. Bonding with the stepkids can only really happen if Emile’s lucked into a cluster with a Frenchman, Frenchwoman, Frenchperson, whichever.

Emile quirks a brow at him, knowing what he’s about to ask. “New Zealander.”

“Fuck,” Remy says. “No in-cluster education for Patton, then. Do we know anyone there, baby?”

“I’d have to check with the Archipelago, and, well,” Emile says, gesturing vaguely to himself; he’s laid out in bed, and, with the washcloth on his forehead, he really does look quite ill. Out-of-cluster visiting might be too much of a strain right now.

Remy frowns, taking the washcloth in hand and gently dabbing Emile’s forehead.

“Tell me about him?”

Emile beams.

“Oh, Remy, he’s wonderful. Simply fantastic! He’s Māori—indigenous population—and he’s got all these interesting tattoos. I’ve been researching, look,” Emile says, tilting his phone so that Remy can see.

Remy takes it. He sees swirling designs, up and down arms and legs, neatly segmented lines filled with various patterns, a few portraits of tattooed faces.

“—the tattoos themselves have a really interesting history, but I have a lot of reading to do when it comes to the Māori population itself. I've already tried to put a few books on hold at the university library.”

“What’s he like?”

“Big, tall,” Emile says, gesturing vaguely with a hand where the top of Patton’s head would compare with his own. “It’s late there, or early, I think, he was still in pajamas. Bunny slippers.”

Remy smiles at that, knowing for a fact that Emile’s wearing his knee-high muppet socks. “Takes after you, then.”

“Maybe,” Emile admits, then, “oh, all right, probably. We have a lot in common, at least, even if we don’t have any solid evidence on if cluster parents influence the traits of their cluster.”

“Influence, schminfluence,” Remy says.

“But he seems very nice, very polite. Wasn’t too shaken by appearing in America.”

Emile’s brow creases.

“I think he needs a cluster,” Emile says, very quiet. “I think he needs them badly.”

Remy isn’t sure what to say to that, so he puts a hand on Emile’s cheek, attempting to check his temperature.

“Harley should have given us the equivalent of psychic sex-ed,” Remy mutters irritably. Emile’s skin, always soft, is warmer than Remy would like.

Emile yawns. “Not gonna disagree with you there.”

Remy tugs up Emile’s blankets to tuck him in. Emile smiles up at him, a little bashful, a lot sleepy.

“Cuddles?” Emile mumbles, holding out his arms, entreating.

And, well. What is Remy gonna do, not cuddle his incredibly adorable boyfriend recovering from psychic birth?

[huaweimate20prouk]

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[narkinafive]

fic draft for a sw/rvb au i have w @evaceratops​; i’ll post it here to get it out of my system, then clean it up and put it on ao3, so comment w your thoughts if you want!!!!

ghosts that linger, 3k, gen, ft. ezra, kanan, and kallus

Not for the first time, Kanan regretted saving Kallus’ life, if only because the man forced them to change bars every time they met. Kanan had really liked the bartender at the last one. 

Tonight’s bar was cleaner, classier, a hell of a lot more expensive. Crowded, too--women and men with dangerously low cut tops and glossy lips hang off the arms of their increasingly drunken patrons, identical smiles painted on their beautiful faces, delicate fingers drawing patterns in the sweet, fruity smoke that permeated every corner of the room. Kanan knew that smoke well; just one pack of Shento cigarras would cost him about a fifth of a good smuggling run. He preferred the cheap shit, not because it tasted any better, but he didn’t refuse the one the tall, pretty Togruta boy offered him, flipping him a fifty-credit chit and a wink in exchange. Kallus already had his lighter out by the time he turned around to face his dinner guest. 

“I was under the impression you were trying to quit,” he said, one blond eyebrow carefully raised, a familiar opening to a familiar routine. Normally Kanan wasn’t one to back down from a verbal fight, but tonight, something felt… off. The air was thick with more than expensive smoke and pheromones; there was an itch between his shoulders that he just couldn’t reach. Beneath their table, his leg was bouncing so violently you could almost see it in the glow of the cigarette, vibrating despite his steady hands.

Kanan took a long, long drag of the cigarra, held it, then released, and it did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. “Any word?”

Kallus hmmed, thoughtfully. Usually a bad sign. “Down to business, I see?”

“Got a girl at home for a few days,” said Kanan, flicking ash into the crystal tray in the center of the smooth, dark table. “She doesn’t want me to stay out too late tonight--said she had a surprise for me if I made it back in time.” He grinned a leering, toothy grin, one he had perfected over years and years of sexual conquests, though he and Kallus both know full well that he hadn’t slept with anyone in months. “So, any reason you insisted on seeing me tonight? You wanna join us?” He felt himself smile wider, baring his teeth.

Kallus rolled his eyes, Kanan detecting a hint of sincerity behind the action, then slid him a thin, beat-up data pad he had pulled from his jacket, a silhouette of a pretty young thing painted in black, scuffed in that telltale way of repeated re-recording. “Far be it from me to encourage your predilections,” he sneered, “but here: the video file you requested.” 

And only now did Kanan finally understand the reason for tonight’s setting: Cinisia Club was one of the last places on the planet that didn’t regulate the sale and exchange of sensitive or explicit information. Hiding extremely confidential Imperial data in a porno-vid? Honestly, it was genius. Kanan groaned appreciatively, loud enough that even the eavesdropping droid would be convinced. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed, “the little miss and I are gonna enjoy this one.” The droid, satisfied for the moment, turned its attention elsewhere.

But as Kanan made to slip the datapad into his pocket, Kallus stopped him with a hand. “As much as I disapprove of your little hobby,” he said, each word perfectly shaped, perfectly chosen, “might I suggest enjoying this one without your, ah, little miss? I fear it may be a bit too… much for her, seeing a family member like that.” 

Kanan froze. A split second, but he froze. Kallus’ face revealed nothing, perfectly composed as he sipped at his drink. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means,” said Kallus, “that this video might upset your lovely date, and then who would warm your bed for the night? Certainly not I.”

His heart beat so hard in his chest that he thought it might pop out. He knew. He knew about Ezra. He knew what they were looking for. “Anything else?” he asked, mouth dry enough that he was surprised he could even get the words out.

Kallus shook his head. “Enjoy.” And with that ominous blessing, Kallus returned to the remains of his drink, dismissing Kanan without so much as a second glance. 

Sliding out of the booth, Kanan thought for a second that he might faint, then thanked the god he no longer believed in as the lightheadedness passed without incident. But he was sure everyone could see his pale face, his trembling hands, his sweaty brow. It was like every set of eyes in the club tracked his every step as he made his way to the exit, each mocking smile haunting him with the question: do they know, too?

He took his speeder to the opposite side of town, ran a loop around the back alleys, just in case someone decided to follow. No one did, as far as Kanan could see. The lights were always on in this part of town, illuminating the unceasing river of sentients crossing into and over the space port, leaving very little shadow to hide in. Imperial propaganda sounded triumphantly from every corner, an overlapping cacophony of music and commands, screens cheerfully brandishing shuttle times and wanted posters. Helmet on, he waited in a dim corner, eyes fixed on the screen as it worked through its roster of suspects. Senator Mon Mothma, it read. General Jan Dodonna. Saw Gerrera. Admiral Gial Ackbar. Travia Chan. Cham Syndulla. Fulcrum, real identity unknown. 

No “Kanan.” No “Caleb” either, for that matter. No other names.

Though who knew how many names there would be tomorrow.

He watched it cycle through again. “If you see something, say something!” Chirped a woman’s voice from the loudspeakers, her words echoing across every surface, broadcast as far as it could possibly go. Kanan could still hear her as he sped away, twenty minutes later. He heard her even as he got out of range, her words ringing in his ears as loudly as any alarm.

Kanan had docked his ship in the bad part of town, but he hadn’t been worried. The Kasmiri wasn’t anything too flashy; spacious quarters had been sacrificed for smuggling compartments long ago, and Kanan had had her repainted as soon as he was sure Janus Kasmir wouldn’t be able to track them down again. Still, his heart lifted somewhat as he approached, lowering the ramp to reveal the soft, warm glow of the cargo bay. Despite her rough exterior, she was still home, a home he hadn’t had in a long, long time.

As Kanan ascended the ladder to the galley, he found that Ezra was still awake, and apparently helping himself to a late night snack, pilfered from Kanan’s emergency stash. “Where were you?” he demanded, perched on the dejarik table, mouthful of a half eaten ration bar.

“Out,” was all Kanan replied, even knowing full well that such a vague answer would do absolutely jackshit to nip Ezra’s curiosity in the bud. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Ezra swallowed. “Were you out with Fulcrum?”

“You, bed. Now,” he ordered at Ezra’s glare.

“Did you get any info?”

“What part of ‘bed’ was a little too hard for you to understand?”

Hopping off the table, Ezra followed Kanan to his bunk, dogging his heels the whole way. “You reek of Shento smoke, and the only place on this dirtball high rolling enough for cigarras like that is going to be the Cinisia Club, which I know for a fact that you refuse, on principle, to even go within three blocks, so the only reason you would go into Cinisia would be to meet with your contact, and the only reason you would actually physically meet Fulcrum instead of just comming them would be because they have something really important to tell you!” He was practically jumping up and down, pacing the very short length of Kanan’s cabin. “Am I right?”

The kid had been hanging around him for way too long. “Not even a little.” Ezra harrumphed, crossing his arms. “Seriously, you should get some sleep. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, be ready at 0500, sharp.”

Eza groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “And now we’re running away!” He turned on his heel and stalked out, heavy footfalls and bitter muttering echoing off the walls.

Kanan almost thought about calling him back. He had promised the kid to keep him in the loop, and if this file was what he thought it was… but Kallus’ warning surfaced in his memory. A family member. 

How in the hell did Kallus know that he was looking for information on Ezra’s father? Moreover, how in the hell did he even know Ezra existed? How the fuck had Kanan let that happen? He thought he had been so clever, so careful, and he had failed, and it was only a matter of time before--

He shook his head. Kallus wouldn’t betray him, Kanan’s leverage was too strong, at least for now. Once again, Kanan regretted saving the man’s life: even if having an ISB agent in his back pocket was ridiculously useful from time to time, he was certain that, eventually, the secrets he knew would cease to be a good enough threat to keep Kallus from talking.

The ancient datapad booted up agonizingly slowly, heat radiating off the back of it. The screen was scuffed and distorted, laser-pixels clumped together at the corners, but the picture was as clear as it could be. The dark windowless room, the slanted table with attached restraints, the sharp, yellow grin of the Grand Inquisitor, it was all a horribly familiar scene to Kanan. “Prisoner Oh-five-seven-seven-four,” he said, his back to the struggling man on the table. “Ephraim Bridger, is it? I understand that you and your wife once had a son. Ezra, yes?” The man--Ezra’s father--Ezra’s father--spit at the Grand Inquisitor in lieu of an answer. “According to our records, he died in the riots at the age of seven. A shame, really; he showed remarkable aptitude in his Academy exam. With the right training, he could have been a great asset to the Empire, had his mother not foolishly chosen to--”

Ezra’s father swore in his native language. “Don’t you dare talk about her! Don’t you dare!”

Kanan paused the vid, listening out for footsteps around his door, and heard nothing. Good. Ezra couldn’t keep quiet to save his life, usually. He did not want the kid to see this. Hell, he hardly wanted to watch it himself.

He hadn’t been on the assignment, but he remembered the incident well. Kanan had been twenty-two, and so green, relegated to desk work while his superiors thought of ways to fix his “problems,” but he had been called out to the scene anyway. Sometimes he could still picture the scene in his mind, perfect in his memory: the dark night, the wet, hard ground, Mira Bridger’s body. The way her arms had been outstretched, like she was reaching for something. The tear tracks on her face, the slackness of death unable to hide her terror and despair. 

And he remembered his orders. Sit on this one, Dume, the Grand Inquisitor--then the Counselor--had coldly informed him. And then, The Director sees no need to include that information in the incident report. And then, You have been taken off this case. Moving forward, this will be handled by more qualified agents. 

Ephraim Bridger’s face snarled at him from years ago, eyes blazing. He’d seen that same look before, on Ezra’s face as he saw Troopers harassing those street kids on Garel.

Kanan pressed play again. 

“Very well,” said the Grand Inquisitor, “What would you like to speak of, Mr. Bridger?”

“I know you took my son,” Ephraim growled, weak, defiant.

The Grand Inquisitor smiled, thin as the interrogator droid’s needle, and just as sharp. “Mr. Bridger, your son has been dead for years.”

“You lie,” he said. “We knew you wanted him for your little cult, and when Mira and I wouldn’t simply lay down and let you take him, you killed my wife and stole him!”

The needle moved, and Ephraim writhed on the table, the twitch of his jaw as he struggled to hold in his shouts evident as the clenching of his fists. “You are mistaken, Mr. Bridger.” 

And on it went, for forty-eight minutes. Forty-eight minutes of torture, and lies, and the strength and ferocity of Ephraim’s will, unyielding against the Grand Inquisitor’s attempts to break it. “Don’t lie to me,” Ephraim gasped, face thunderous. “Why did you take my son?”

“Your son died in the riots, Mr. Bridger.”

“Where is he?!”

Kanan paused the vid, scrubbing a hand over his face. It just didn’t make any sense. The JEDI program had been dissolved when Palpatine took control, so why would the Grand Inquisitor be looking for new recruits? And if they were looking for new soldiers, why didn’t they take Ezra? The kid was smart, quick on his feet, great with machines--he should have been a prime target for the JEDI. Could they just have completely missed him?

No, Kanan decided, this was deliberate. Maybe it was because of his parents, but he didn’t see how leaving alone the child of two known insurrectionists would have benefitted the JEDI; if anything, it would have made him even more of a prize, a big fat slap in the face of the movement. So why leave him alone? And why, if you’re going to leave him alone, go through all the trouble of relocating him?

Too many things didn’t add up, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for any of this, and outside his cabin was the telltale shuffle of someone listening through the door.

Sure enough, he palmed open the door, and Ezra was there, jerking away from the hole where the wall used to be. “Did you say my name?” he asked, smiling like he hadn’t just been attempting to eavesdrop.

“No.”

“I heard my name. What were you watching?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Ezra was a right terror all the time; a tired Ezra even more so. “I told you we had an early start tomorrow.”

The transformation was startling. Where once had been an obstinate teenager, a kid who enjoyed glaring daggers at him from across the dinner table, disobeying orders in flight, and refusing to come to blaster practice, stood a repentant child, his eyes wide in that rarely-seen puppy-dog way that he never outgrew from the street. “Look,” he said, arms raised, placating, “I’m sorry for snooping. You’re the boss, and your business isn’t mine. You’re entitled to your secrets, and that includes not telling me what you were up to tonight, even though you promised not to hide information from me if I thought it was important. Right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay,” said Ezra, unperturbed, “but I just think--”

Kanan groaned.

“I could really help you out!” 

“Ezra--”

“I’m still pretty small, I’m quiet, I’m awesome at pick-pocketing,” he counted off, “I could be a really great spy!”

Kanan sighed, the telltale signs of an Ezra-induced headache beginning to manifest, a subtle throbbing beneath his temple overcoming his need to stay as rational as possible. “We’ve been over this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and under no circumstances will I use you as a spy. You are not getting involved!”

“I’m already involved!” Ezra said. “You think if you got caught then they wouldn’t arrest your ‘mechanic’ for treason, too?”

He was right, of course. “Ezra,” said Kanan, bringing his hands down on his shoulders, tilting his head up to look him in the eye so that he could see, so that he could understand, “you listen to me. If there is the slightest chance that you can get out of this with your nose clean, then you take it. Do you understand?”

“Kanan--”

“Ezra!” He shook him. “Do you understand me?!”

“Fuck you!” Ezra roared as he shoved him off, nearly knocking Kanan into the strut of his bunk. “Just, fuck you! They were my parents, and I have the goddamn right to know why they died!”

“I know!” Kanan shouted back. “Of course you do.”

“Then tell me what’s going on!” Ezra advanced, hands balled into fists, jaw clenching with barely contained rage. Just like his father.

He couldn’t keep this from him for much longer.

“I don’t--” He broke off, willing the right words to come, “I don’t want to be wrong about this.” Ezra faltered at that, his shoulders losing some of their rigidity as his anger started to bleed out of him. “I have my suspicions, but that’s all they are right now: suspicions. This isn’t just a simple matter of corruption. What I’m--what we’re investigating might involve people so far up the chain of command that they could take us out in broad daylight and walk away without a single scratch on their reputation. These people,” for Kanan knew them well, knew them so intimately it still made him sick sometimes, “these people don’t care about right or wrong, or justice, or anything like that. And they certainly won’t think twice about killing you for what you know.” 

Heavily, Kanan sat on his bunk, the lumpy bed sinking even further under his weight, under the weight of the goddamn world. He was so goddamn tired. 

The mattress dipped as Ezra sat beside him, never taking his eyes off of him. “I can’t sit by and do nothing, Kanan,” he said, softly. “They were my parents.”

Something tried to crawl its way up Kanan’s throat, sitting heavily. This kid. “I know. And I promise, I won’t keep anything from if I think it’s important enough for you to know. But right now, the less you know, the better.”

His mouth twisted, but, eventually, he nodded. “Can…” he looked away, arms coming up to hug himself, the scrape of fabric on fabric seeming to center him. “Can you at least tell me what was on the vid?”

Kanan’s stomach plummeted. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of recycled air, dirty laundry, the lingering stench of Shento on his skin. When he opened them, Ezra was looking at him again, the bright blue of his eyes somehow dimmer in the low light of his cabin.

He would rather have the obstinate teenager than this.

“It was an interrogation archive,” Kanan said.

“The Grand Inquisitor?” 

“Yeah.” Ezra shuddered, and one hand rubbed at his wrist, almost subconsciously. “I thought it might have some new info, but… he was just torturing the prisoner. Trying to make him forget something he had seen.” Which was true. Nothing in that vid was news to Kanan.

Beside him, Ezra dipped his head, dark hair in his eyes, and tilted slowly until it could be said that he was leaning on Kanan. Kanan’s shoulder twitched, but he knew better than to try to hug the kid. “And the prisoner?” he asked. “What did he know?”

“He knew…” Kallus’ voice in his head, again. “He thought he knew why they were targeting your mother.”

“Did he?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” And the truth was, he didn’t. The Rebellion, the JEDI, the Grand Inquisitor, the Bridgers, and their son; every answer to every question revealed a whole new web of entanglements, of money and power and depraved individuals, and Kanan was still so lost, adrift in the void of space without a heading. “There’s so much that just isn’t adding up, and I want--I have to be sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, before I can go any further with this.”

He felt, rather than saw, Ezra’s nod. He wondered what Ezra could feel from him, if he could tell that Kanan still, despite his promises, was lying to him. 

[townshade6]

Ideas on How to Take the Best Photos with the Android Smart phone

Any time you’re working with any of the most up-to-date Android mobile phones, such as the Galaxy S9 or Pixel 3, then one of the best cameras available is right now in your pocket. You are prepared to start shooting those wife and kids pictures at cherished meetings which will last endlessly. But no matter the prowess of the sophisticated smartphone, plainly pointing and snapping shots at the picture is not the technique to shoot long lasting experiences. The exact requirements affect smartphone picture taking as they do studio picture taking: a little staging will go far. Take a beat before clicking the shutter switch and implement a number of of the subsequent ideas to help make your android-snapped photographs start looking their best. You have observed this before, but it requires repeating because it makes an amazing impact: make certain the photo camera continues to be when you’re capturing an image. I can’t tell you just how many moments I’ve snapped and strolled to stay with a crowd or something of the sort, only to be annoyed down the road by fuzzy results. Your Android phone could be instant at setting up the camera app (double-press the power button of all to instantly fire it up), nonetheless it can’t constitute the photo if you aren’t still while taking the pic. It is typically a good idea to get into the behavior of checking on what you currently snapped just before moving ahead. You would not always demand a tripod in this point in time to take a still picture, though it certainly facilitates generate the most useful results. Additionally, there are mobile phone camcorder mounts for common-sized tripods if you’re currently tricked out in video camera equipment. At the same time, unique equipment are great for taking group photographs. Angling the smart phone against a wall structure or an object can be another technique of the trade every time you are in a bind. Android Cellphone's Top Rated Photography Software Android software programs are in fact robust enough to handle developing raw picture archives produced by DSLRs, so many of them can definitely deal with editing and enhancing a photo taken by a mobile phone. Free apps like Snapseed, Polarr, and Adobe Lightroom will appeal to tinkerers and the ones who like to be the “family photographer.” For those who opt for the appearance of filtered photographs, applications like VSCO present over 100 types of shaded flair, in addition to a Color Story, which has the best filters for offering to an Instagram audience. Both apps are absolve to use, though they offer in-app buys to unlock a few of the popular aesthetics. If you’d rather not pay very much to make your photos appeared aged, KujiCam is unrepentantly fun to make use of, and your digital photographs can look like they were taken in another decade. In the event that you do screw up a snapshot and the point in time has passed on, use an app like TouchRetouch to go in and erase an out-of-place fingertip in the uppermost side. Do not leave out the editing and enhancing specs your telephone does natively. Google Photos comes pre-loaded on almost every modern Android unit and will be offering quick editing tools, including a small number of colored photo filters, a crop option, and the capability to alter common components just like the color hue and publicity. (Google Photos also offers automatic back-up for your photos and video clips, so make certain to take benefit of that, however you remove all of your cherished stories next time your phone drowns in a children's pool.) Samsung and LG’s individual gallery apps also deliver light editing and enhancing possibilities along the same lines. In the case you’re feeling bold, you may even like a few of the digital “stickers” bundled on Samsung’s Galaxy and Note smartphones. I love a little sultry lighting. A dozen candle lights and a few dimmed bulbs will be the perfect method to signal to your family and friends that the abode is usually a comfy one. This type of lighting is definitely less than ideal for photos, on the other hand, and although your mobile phone’s manufacturer promised you some of the best low-light pictures, delightful gatherings aren't the place to check out this case. Don’t be afraid to incorporate a small amount of light when the scenario demands it. You don’t have to buy extra things; plainly take off the very best on a close by light fixture or other comparative and place it in front of your topics, beside you if you’re the shooter. Additionally, avoid above your head lighting. Just as much as recessed lighting looks great in person, it’s unflattering on photo camera. (There is a reason why actresses slip on shades the instant they are indoors, where there’s often overhead light.) The same lamp cheat helps diffuse these kinds of lighting situations and will make everybody in the photo look glowing and bright. Your smartphone’s flash can perform the same thing in a bit, though avoid using it as most of your light supply, as it could make your party appear washed out. Alternatively, you can utilize a close friend’s mobile phone flashlight as a directional light beam of sorts by shining it at the angle you wish people’s faces to become lit. It can contribute to some actually cool lighting special effects. Think you're among the happy ones to have the Pixel 3’s Night time Sight upgrade? Be sure you’re applying it when the circumstances requires it, like inside restaurants or poorly-lit traditional architectural structures. The functionality is just around the corner to older Pixel smartphones and is available in the default Android camera application, from the same screen where you can conveniently swap between panoramic setting and the like. On Samsung and LG phones, a related capability is hidden in the Pro or Manual modes. In cases like this, you will want to do a little of adjusting to the camera configurations to get the kind of photo you want. You don’t have to be a camera expert to gain access to this, because so many manufacturers offer live previews so you can observe what the result can look like after a bit of finagling. For best outcomes, keep all the stuff on Automatic aside from the shutter speed, that is where you will see the real difference in how much light camera can take up. Not to mention, don’t ignore to lean it against something as the shutter is open up or you’ll end up with a fuzzy photo. Face mode is one of those defacto common features that now comes added with every flagship smartphone. It is like panorama setting, except that you’re going to make use of it more frequently as it gets photos a bit of a high-tech look. You don’t have to utilize it to shot photos of individuals, either. This performs equally well for animals, flowers, or any various other interesting subject. My most liked activity to accomplish with Portrait setting, if I’m taking a selfie or taking a photo with friends I haven’t seen in over ten years, is to utilize it next to a plain backdrop. A blank wall is fantastic for headshots, although a flowery wall structure adds a little bit of pizzazz. I love the imitation “studio look” of these sorts of photos, and you will get artistic utilizing the lamp-light trick in a living-room. If done the right way, the result of your Portrait setting could look as elegant and sleek as if taken on school photo day, plus they could even be photos valuable enough to slap over a bunch of christmas greeting cards in the the coming year. Finally and in fact the most distinct piece of professional suggestions on any list right here, don’t neglect to clean your photo camera lens prior to shooting a picture. Your cell phone is fully capable at this stage in the process to shoot a high-quality picture of the people you appreciate, but it will not mean much if the lens is smudged up with finger grease and various other diverse debris. Even if you possess a case on with a photo camera covering, wipe that part clean inside and out to guarantee that your photographs stay perfect. If your cell phone is your one and only camera, you should always bring either a microfiber towel or a bundle of lens-cleaning wipes. Get them in bulk and keep them almost everywhere: in every single backpack you utilize and every car you drive in. Pictures are primarily worth a hundred words if they are very clear, and any time you spent in excess of this much on the latest phone, then it ought to produce frame-worthy portraits.

[josephlrushing]

Powered by Wear OS, the OPPO Watch Is an Android User’s Answer to Smart Wrist-Wear

Complete with the World’s first dual-curved display, the OPPO Watch is a Google user’s answer to the Apple Watch. I’ve been trying it out for the last few months and have been absolutely amazed by its style and functionality. But is that because I’m so used to the form and functionality of the Apple Watch?

Available in 41 or 46mm, the OPPO Watch is designed for life; if it weren’t for its curves, you’d absolutely be forgiven for thinking that the Apple Watch heavily inspired it. The 41mm Wi-Fi-only version is available in Black, Pink Gold, or a Silver Mist color, while the 46mm comes in Black or Glossy Gold with a choice of a WiFi-only version or an LTE option. As someone familiar with black smartwatches, I opted for the Black, but it’s all about your personal preference. Not to be confused with the Apple Watch, I was actually confused about why the company, even with the name. OPPO decided to call their watch the OPPO Watch instead of opting for a unique name that doesn’t seem like the company is just copying and playing off of Apple. Outside of the US, OPPO is a huge smartphone brand, and I get that. However, maybe naming it something different, say “the Op Watch,” wouldn’t come off as someone who’s newly discovering the brand as “oh that just sounds like a knock off Apple Watch” just looking at the packaging.  

I received the 46 mm, LTE model for review.

Aside from the obvious style and name comparisons, the OPPO Watch holds its own as an everyday, all-terrain smartwatch that looks great whether you are dressing for business or casual. One thing I immediately noticed in my first two weeks with the OPPO was its battery life.

If you are an Android user, battery life is something you’ll truly appreciate in the OPPO as it will keep up with your lifestyle. I’ve been able to use the OPPO Watch for roughly a day and a half on a single charge, completing over 18K steps, two workouts, and overnight wear — all without turning it off or changing any settings. Your mileage may vary, but for a watch that boasts an always-on display and Tilt-to-Wake functionality, I was surprised that my constant tossing and turning in the middle of the night, as well as getting up periodically to change my baby daughter’s diapers, allowed enough battery for me to not only to wear it overnight but for the watch to survive without a charge until roughly 2:15 pm the following day. 

The 430 mAh battery allows for a quick charge, so if you have a low battery and need to top it off before heading out somewhere, that option is available. According to OPPO, you can get 16 hours of power with a 15-minute charge. While I’ll say that it does fast charge if you have every setting such as Always-On Display, GPS, Bluetooth, 4G, and Wi-Fi connected, the chances are that you might not get that 16 hours. If you also factor in alerts and notifications (which I don’t receive many of on my Pixel), this could also drain the battery.

I was surprised by the aluminum alloy build in terms of design, complete with the ceramic back. It’s wider than I’m used to, and for some reason, it reminded me a bit of the Casio Calculator watch of the ’90s, minus the buttons and dreadful wristband. I expected the watch to be heavy on the wrist, but I am delighted that it is comfortable to wear and doesn’t feel heavy after a long day at work or the gym. It has a 1.91″ long rectangular 3D flexible AMOLED screen with 402 x 476 pixels at 326 ppi. At about 1.6″ wide, it’s a bit wider than the Apple Watch, which I wasn’t too keen on because I don’t typically spend too much time looking at the information on my wrist, so the need for a large display while a good idea, reminded me a bit of a Dick Tracy-esque watch that sat too wide on my wrist.

My biggest complaint regarding the OPPO Watch isn’t about its design, but it’s connectivity. I connected the watch to my Verizon Wireless service, paired as a smartwatch for $10 a month with my Google Pixel 4XL. This not only allowed me to take calls-on-the-go but if I left my Pixel in the house while going on a run to the store, I could still be reached by my wife. While the 4G connectivity was comparable to that of the Apple Watch, the Bluetooth and GPS, unfortunately, were not.

Paired with the Jabra Elite 75ts, I would take my OPPO Watch on the go for runs; for some unknown reason, the Bluetooth would randomly drop. I wear my watch on my left wrist, and when running along the beach or even just taking a walk around the block, the audio in my headphones would cut in and out. I thought the issue might have been with the headphones first, so I swapped them out with a pair of Shure AONIC 4 Bluetooth earbuds, but I encountered the same issues. As of now, I still haven’t truly found a remedy for this other than simply bringing my phone with me on runs and allowing the audio to play directly from the Pixel. This is a huge problem that I hope that OPPO fixes it —hopefully soon, in an OTA update.

Despite this, the OPPO Watch is tailored for the active lifestyle. The company prides itself on the smartwatches five exercise sensors, including the GPS + GLONASS. Allowing you to track your heart rate and other physical stats accurately, you can get five-minute workouts with a tap of the screen, which is great on a busy day. This is something I’ve wanted Apple to include for years, so the fact the OPPO Watch has this built-in not only is great but has the potential to make Google’s Fit program even more robust to compete with Apple’s Fitness+ program that will come out later this year.

Another health highlight is the improved sleep tracking that gives you a detailed report about your sleep state if you’re into that. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t getting a consistent  7-8 hours of sleep without interruption until I tried this function on the OPPO. Compared to the Apple Watch’s sleep “apps,” which seem to be more miss-than-hit than the OPPO. I know that Apple has also included sleep tracking in their new OS. However, I haven’t yet fully tested that in comparison to OPPO’s built-in function.

As you can tell from my review, most of my likes and dislikes come from comparing the OPPO Watch to the Apple Watch. The OPPO Watch’s design looks better than Apple’s to me because of the curved display; however, where the watch falls behind is the internal OS. Wear OS, in my personal experience, tries too hard to be a mini-Android phone on your wrist, rather than being a smartwatch that complements your smartphone. Others have shared this sentiment about other Android watches, and the OPPO Watch falls into this trap as well — it felt like it was trying to take everything people love from Apple, including a play on its name, without focusing on the OS. The OS isn’t OPPO’s fault; it’s Google’s. Google seems to be sabotaging its smartwatch line with a lack of proper OS updates and a complete disregard for making the watch a watch first and a smartphone tool second.

In terms of Wear OS, my main gripe is that it feels like not much has changed about the software throughout the years. Compared to the likes of Samsung, Wear OS this year received its first true update since 2018, and even in the update, I’ve discovered constant freezing in the OPPO Watch when doing things like setting timers when cooking or even delayed ringing between answering a call from my phone on the OPPO Watch. At first, I believed this was isolated to the OPPO Watch, but after reading about other people’s problems with Wear OS, I discovered it wasn’t the smartwatch but the software. While I haven’t experienced this on a workout, it would be a huge deterrent if I’ve logged in many steps or miles and received inaccurate readings because the watch stutters to log appropriately. 

The upside to Wear OS, though, is that it is more useful than Apple’s Siri. With a quick “Hey Google,” I’m able to ask virtually anything I’d ask Google’s app on my phone and get similar results. No stutter or “I can’t find that” like the Apple Watch, and honestly, I fell in LOVE with that. Also, with Wear OS, I love the ability to see notifications CRYSTAL clear thanks to notifications being color-coordinated; this saves me a bunch of time knowing a glance at my watch that the Facebook notification that I received could wait to see what my Grandmother posted. 

So, it is the OPPO Watch one of the best Wear OS watches available? Yes. Is it better than the Apple Watch? Absolutely not, but again I’m attempting not to be biased. I enjoy the color coordination of notifications and the ability to turn off the Always On Display (the 2.19 update patched a bug that fixed the display showing up grey, causing more battery drain, which has resulted in steady battery life for me. For reference, my battery life on my Series 5 watch seems to have worsened with WatchOS 7, which is right on time for them to release series 6, which I will not be purchasing.) Is there room for improvement? For sure. In terms of improvement, I think the 41mm model should’ve had the same curved edge display as the 46mm. Feels like OPPO decided this would be more “premiere” for the 46mm version; however, not everyone likes large square watch faces. The 41mm looks like a sweet spot for both women and men alike and would look a bit more elegant with the curved display.

I have grown to love the two buttons on the right of the OPPO Watch. Both buttons are used to navigate the OPPO Watch; they can be readily identified, have enough raise that allows you to know when they are pressed — and do not snag on fabrics like the Apple Watch’s turn wheel. The watch is also water-resistant for up to 50 meters, which seems to be the industry standard these days; if only I lived in a warm enough climate to have enjoyed a day at the pool wearing this. So let me end the review by saying this: If I were ever completely to leave Apple, I’d have to leave the Apple Watch with it. And aside from Wear OS having its quirks, the OPPO Watch might be the only watch I’d consider for my Android device. The curved screen is obviously the highlight feature, but aside from that, the familiarity with the form factor means I can go out wearing it. Nobody would be able to tell the difference until a colorized notification popped up. I just really, really wish that Wear OS would fix the constant freezing in an update. 

If you’re interested in getting your hands on the OPPO Watch, I would say to get the LTE model so you can truly enjoy the ability to use cellular service on your carrier. I wish that OPPO would’ve included this in their 41MM version (it’s Wi-Fi only). You can learn more about the OPPO Watch by clicking here.

The OPPO Watch sells for $480 for the 46mm model and $299 for the 41mm model. Oppo is in the process of launching this watch globally; it will be coming to the US soon, and we will update with a link on where to buy once it does. 

Source: Manufacturer supplied review unit

What I Like: Innovative design & Curved Display; Ability to use with LTE data for $10 on Verizon; Colorized Notifications

What Needs Improvement: Wear OS has issues which are present in the OPPO Watch

The post Powered by Wear OS, the OPPO Watch Is an Android User's Answer to Smart Wrist-Wear first appeared on GearDiary.

from Joseph Rushing https://geardiary.com/2020/11/12/powered-by-wear-os-the-oppo-watch-is-an-android-users-answer-to-smart-wrist-wear/

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #237

"Love In The Tub, Yanufen Goes Vocal, Crim”

[CP] Has tossed his shirt off so he can feel his wife against him, he's been getting more and more frustrated since CN's been in the house-

[Lie] - CP?  Is everything okay?

[CP] - We are kinda alone...

[Lie] - And out in the open

[CP] Leans forwards and nips at his wife's neck- So?  Think of it as a challenge to stay quiet...

[Lie] Squeaks a little and shifts.  She knows this will probably help CP relax and not be so much of an asshole for the time being, but she's just worried about somebody seeing them-

[TLOT] Runs slow fingers over Steve's skin, making him tremble slightly and smile in his vulnerability.

[Steve] is laying in a small rug amongst Doc's collection on the second floor of the shrine. They know it's unlikely anyone will disturb them and it wouldn't be the first time they made love amongst the treasures and below the empty glass gaze of the Herobrine in the massive colored window.

[TLOT] Someone is contemplating love-making... Such a delicious feeling.

[Steve] mischievous- you should give them a little push...

[TLOT] Naughty lamb. But perhaps I might- he waves s hand idly, just flexing his powers to pull the two just a tad closer to their consummation.

{Lie] Lets a small moan pass her lips as she leans in closer to her mate-

[CP] Smirks and begins touching her in places he knows will get her aroused, he urges her closer to his goal-

[Lie] Looks pleadingly at him, her words slipping quietly past her lips- Please, before I change my mind...

[CP] Grins and moves his mate to a position where she's above him-

[Lie] Smoothly slides onto her husband leaning forwards and kisses him lovingly as he fills her ever so pleasantly-

[CP] Grins and pulls Lie closer, wanting so much but knowing he can't push her too much or she will make noise and he doesn't want others disturbing them and interrupting their fun-

[Lie] Is biting her lip to keep herself quiet and starts a little when she accidentally draws blood as she's being thrust into-

[CP] Quickly leans in to kiss and lick the blood away without pause in his thrusting.  HE can feel Lie tensing and smirks as he works on getting her to come-

[Lie] Is making some noises, not really loud enough to draw attention though-

[CP] Is getting a bit caught up in his need, wanting to hear his mate make noise as he pulls out and turns her over so she's leaning against the edge of the lava pool and enters her again from behind.  Lie is fighting all urges to make noise-

[Steve] Manages to pant as he's stripped of his clothes- Who-who are the oh-others?

[TLOT] Shakes his mates shirt in his teeth theatrically- Cp and Lie.

[Steve] Ooo-oh.... - Tenses as his cubes are exposed to the slightly chill air and lovingly fondled -

[Lie] Clamps a hand over her mouth as CP moves harder and faster, pressing into his wife and feeling her around him-

[CP] Reaches a hand around to grope at her chest and leans in to nuzzle and bite at her neck-

[Steve] Stifles a gasp, curling his fingers into his discarded clothing as    he prostrates himself before the armor stand bearing his mate's copied face-

[TLOT] Is nipping and kissing his mates upraised rear to hear the musical tones of pleading and want falling from Steve's lips. - I never get tired of hearing you beg for me...

[Lie] Groans as her hand moves away from her mouth to grab at cobblestone in front of her-

[CP] Reaches out and grabs her wrist on the other arm, dragging it behind her back, he growls a little as he picks up his pace a little more-

[Steve] Can't help but moan aloud as his mate suprises him by taking the miners rod in his lips and gently beginning to suck. Little pixels of sweat bead on his brow as the waves of heat and pleasure course through him.

[TLOT] Mumbles a little around his mouthful- I love you so much-

[Steve] Can't help but smile - I love you too -

[Lie] Let's out a bit to loud of a squeak as she comes-

[CP] Grins darkly as he moves so he can finish himself-

[Lie] - Ah...  CP...

[Deer] - Did you hear that?

[Doc] Has a front row seat to Yanufen's splashing around- Hear what?

[Deer] - It sounded like it came from the shrine...

[Steve] Comes softly and slumps with his head on the floor -

[TLOT] Feel up to a little worship my lamb?

[Steve] Y-yes.

[TLOT] Sits on a half slab step and watches with hungry anticipation as his mate sits back on his knees and bows before his god. He lays his hands gently on the humans shoulders, not pushing, just feeling the smoothness of the skin beneath his fingers. He lets one hand travel down, ruffling the bit of fuzz on his mates upper back.

[Steve] Kisses his lover over and over, laving his thighs and cubes with a hundred touches of warm lips before taking his Herobrine's rod easily into his own mouth. With practiced ease he swallows it down until the curls at the base tickle the little bump of his nose-

[TLOT] Sighs in appreciation. Just reflexitively petting his mate as he's pleasured-

[CP] Grunts as he comes, filling his mate and then some-

[Lie] Is trembling and feeling a bit like slime as she leans against the edge of the pool panting- CP...

[CP] - Yes?

[Lie] - Next time we're getting somebody to watch CN so we can spend more time on this...

[CP] Pulls Lie into an embrace and nuzzles her lovingly- Agreed...  So when do we kick the brat out?

[Lie] Just sighs-

[TLOT] Feels himself getting close and makes to pull away -

[Steve] Just shakes his head without letting go. He wraps his arms around his lovers waist and bobs his head faster-

[TLOT] Is twisted with the tension of his impending release and balls it up even tighter in anticipation-

[Steve] Goes all the way to the base and sucks near desperately-

[TLOT] Comes and fills his mouth with gusto, giving weak little thrusts as his mate swallows as much as he can manage. As he finishes, there's a bit of a pulse that spreads out in ripples of loving thoughts and feelings washing outward from the shrine to lap even at the walls of their village on the next chunk.

[Steve] Rocks back and gives a small burp before wiping his lips. - He smiles softly - I thought it was time to make our world even bigger.

[TLOT] You're so considerate.

[Doc] Shivers happily- Ooooh. Now that I did feel.

[Bee] What was that? I feel all warm and fuzzy.

[CP] Both he and Lie tense up a little as the pulse passes over them-

[Deer] - Mmhm

[Doc] Your primary gods making love-

[Spork] Wow...

[Mb] Makes a gagging noise-

[Deer] - Usually results in others having sex too

[Doc] Waggles hir eyebrows at Deerheart-

[Deer] Smirks- Only if we can find a babysitter

[Doc] Yeah I think our usual babysitter is probably lying in a puddle of spunk about now.

[Mb] What the fuck is wrong with you?

[Deer] - Nothing at all

[Mb] Just rolls his eyes for his own edification-

[Celine] Flapping around on the shore again-

[Yaunfen] Stretches before flopping in the grass-

[Doc] Puts hir head near Yaunfen- Are you tired little one?

[Candelabra] Little yawn - I don't know about your child, but I'm getting there.

[Deer] - Would you like an escort back into the village?

[Candelabra] I can see the wall from here. Is it safe for us to just walk back alone?

[Deer] Concentrates for a moment- Yes, especially since MB is within sight

[Mb] Bite me.

[Bee] Thank you both for your hospitality- She gets out of the water and shakes out her hair before bowing to them-

[Spork and Candelabra] Also get out and dry off as best they can.

[Lie] - CP...  I don't wanna get out...

[CP] - We don't have to yet

[Doc] I wonder if Cp and Lie just went home? They're being really quiet if not.

[Mb] Who the fuck cares?

[Pinwheel] Darts past to snap at a mouse-

[Deer] - We could go check...

[Doc] Nah, I'll just get yelled at I'm sure. - Xe rolls over in the water and exposes hir belly to the sun-  [Testificates] Head back to the village-

[Deer] Shifts into her dragon form and curls up next to Doc- Rest love, I'll keep DN away

[Splender] Picks up Pinwheel- Um...  I only see four morsels...

[Mb] Morsels?

[Splender] - The little pieces of meat

[Doc] Cuddles up next to her- You're the best - Xe wags hir tail lazily, letting the long hair float and curl in the water.

[Celine] Is sniffing in the grass and bounds upward in suprise as the last mouse makes a break for it- Squeak!

[Splender] - OH!  There it is!

[Mouse] Darts into the grass-

[Doc] Shit.... forget it. I don't have the energy to go chasing a mouse. It's got so little health, I'm sure something will get it, or it'll despawn since it's not named.

[Splender] - Okay...

[Exeggutor] Ambles over to Splender and looks down at Pinwheel -

[Mb] Okay, I'm done. Getting out now. - He shakes off and walks out of the water in just his undershorts. He climbs up the hill and gives a low whistle. - Ha! No wonder you were being so quiet Cp! Just banging the little woman in the hot tub. Pfft.

[Doc] Really? That's a bit odd, for Lie at least.

[CP] - If I could move I'd murder you...

[Mb] Too bad for you. - He scoops up Celine and starts walking back towards the nether portal building- Have fun fuckers.

-Little time skip-

-There's no rooster to crow but it's certainly morning. TLOT and Steve are cuddled in their beds. Arden is already on the internet tapping away. Zeke stayed up all night again and is now passed out. There's a worrying smoky smell in the lab again from someone else who couldn't sleep for a very different reason.

[Doc] Cuddles up closer to Deerheart as LH makes tiny snores across one of hir feet.

[Yaunfen] Was rolling around on the bed, having woken up when they roll towards the edge of the bed as a growth spurt happens- ...  Mada?  I squished...

[Doc] Blinks sleeply- You wha? Huh?

[Yaunfen] - I squished!

[Doc] Moves over and then sits up suddenly realizing thier baby said something other then Mada, fuck or burp. - Yaunfen? - Xe shakes Deerheart's shoulder-

[Yaunfen] Looks at them upside down from where they ended up-  I got squished...  I can't get out...

[Deer] Mumbles and opens her eyes- What is it?

[Doc] Reaches for their feet and tries to get them unstuck from their predicament.

[Yaunfen] Pops out of their predicament and tumbles across the bed and across Deer-

[Deer] Yelps-

[Doc] Yaunfen? Are you okay?

[Yaunfen] - Uh huh!  I grew!

[Doc] Hugs their neck- I can see that! I'm so proud! And more words too!

[Yaunfen] - Uh-huh!  I'm hungry...  Do we have more cake?

[Doc] Absolutely! - Xe rolls out of bed and dashes to the other end of the room to dig in the snack box.

[LH] Nearly gets pushed off the bed and gives a rather whiny protest.

[Yaunfen] Trots after Doc-

[Deer] Giggles- Should I make some food for you and I Doc?

[Doc] No! I mean... no. I'm staying down here for now. Not ready to face... - Xe turns quickly and digs out a cake before holding it out for their little one.

[Deer] - Do you want me to bring you some food?"

[Doc] No... I'll just pull something out of the creative- Looks a bit sad, and can't conceal a furtive glance at the staircase all blocked with wool again.

[Deer] Walks closer and hugs Doc- Then I think I'll go visit Flux for some more lessons

[Yaunfen] Takes the food and eats it with gusto-

[Doc] Holds her warmly-  If you want. I don't wish to burden you with my...

[Deer] Kisses Doc's cheek- I'll take the back exit

[Yaunfen] - Food!  Food!

[Doc] I'll follow you part of the way. I have a suprise for Yaunfen here anyway. - motions down the stairs-

[Yaunfen] Follows them curiously as they head down the stairs-

[Shaymin] Is rolling happily in the little patch of wheat and grass in the middle of the room.

[Galvantula] wandered onto Deerheart's desk in the middle of the night and is sleeping, covering most of it.

[Archen] Is flopped on top of the spider pokemon sleeping in a ball of feathers pose.

[Doc] Leads past them to a pair of light colored doors and opens one for Yaunfen. - This is for you. Big kids should have their own personal space. And I made a loft off to the side for when you get bigger and need more then a double bed.

[Yaunfen] Darts in sniffing everything- It's mine?  But where will Mada and Ma sleep?

[Doc] Where we always do kiddo. I'm keeping you close by so we'll hear you if you need us. And the pokemon are right there to keep any bad things away while you sleep-

[Yaunfen] A bit sadly- Not with me?

[Doc] Well you can still sleep with us if you get scared, or just need some snuggle time. But I think you'll need the extra space soon enough. And we can still have afternoon dragon naps on lazy days.

[Yaunfen] - Okay!  Now if only the cold meanie would go away...

[Doc] Yeah. I don't like him either...

[Deer] Takes Doc's hand- It's alright Doc, I'll protect you and Yaunfen from him...  And surprisingly Pinwheel will to

[Doc] I believe you. I know you're capable of so much. I think you'll be outshining me in a lot of areas if you keep training with Flux. I never thought I'd be excited to see Pinwheel bite someone.

[Deer] - I wonder if we can keep DN away if we offer to babysit Pinwheel some...

[Doc] Probably not. He's so stubborn. I wish he'd get some other hobby. It seems like he doesn't even sleep.

[Deer] - I wonder if CN could distract him at times?

[Lie] She and CP had been working on her portal making abilities that morning when he had been called off to his server because of a situation. She had decided to go on a ride. CN had insisted on coming so he was riding the donkey Stitch while Lie rode Beau-

[CN] Is trying to get Stitch to go faster but the donkey is ignoring him-

-Firebird's totally sitting in Gem's yard as a bird, plucking blue feathers-

[gem] -is on top of this roost she made for firebird and sees him plucking feathers and decides the swop down to meet him-

9:16 PM] Sock: [Firebird] -Looks up, a cluster of blue feathers in beak- chrrp

[gem] those are pretty why are you plucking them?

[Firebird] -soft distressed chorp while dropping them on the ground-

[Firebird] -Reaches back to pluck the last few-

[gem] -after he finishes she picks him up and flies back up the roost-

[Firebird] -Does the perch in her arms as she picks him up-

[Firebird] -excited chirp at the roost-

[gem] -puts him down on the beds and sits down next to him-

[Firebird] -Content bird noise as he stretches and curls up in the bed, looking at Gem-

[gem] -starts to hum as she starts to make a little red and orange planet crown for firebird-

[Firebird] -Leans head forward to watch closely-

[gem] -the materials seem to collect in a tightly packed planet when she makes each one then connects them as soon as she connects the first and last one together she turns to firebird and puts it on his head-

[Firebird] Chirp....

[Firebird] -Proudly lifts head and displays neatass crown-

[gem] -puts her start planet crown- now we both have crowns because we are epic

[Firebird] -happy face as he lays head down, only to note another blue feather he'd missed on his breast, right beside the scarred spot. He plucks it and moves to toss it aside- .... -Thinks better of it and turns to drop the feather on Gem-

[gem] oh thank you -takes it and puts it in the top of the star that's in in frount-

[Firebird] -Soft chorp-

[gem] would you like me to make you anything else out of planets?

[Firebird] -Shrug-

[gem] i don't know either -lays back and starts making a solar system-

[Firebird] -Content to watch Gem do so-

[gem] -is making a large batch of them-

-Firebird noses his beak real close-

[gem] -the place is looking like a galaxy. the sun in the middle of the solar system is hot like a real sun-

[Firebird] -Tries to doot his beak to the sun-

[gem] -notices- be careful those are like mini suns they are very hot

[Firebird] -Doots sun with beak, content chirp-

[gem] oh you like the heat well here -makes a neckless out of suns and puts it on firebird-

-Absolutely delighted bird noises-

[gem] -smiles she is happy she made firebird happy-

[Firebird] -eats one sun off the necklace whole, plopping head back onto bed contently-

[gem] -giggles-

[Doc] Manages to sneak out of the castle with Yaunfen and is headed down the road to Lie's house-

[Lie] - CN?  Do you need any help?

[CN] - NO!

[Doc] Manages to hide hir discomfort at the sight of Cn, but waves at them both in a friendly way.

[Lie] Turns Beau towards Doc- Oh, hey Doc.  Sneaking about?

[Doc] Yeaaahhh... I don't want to talk about it... but I do have good news.

[Lie] - What is it?

[CN] Is trying to get Stitch to go towards Lie...  The donkey would prefer to go another direction-

[Doc] Gestures at Yaunfen- My little one woke me up with a big suprise.

[Yaunfen] - Hi!  I got bigger!

[Lie] - I can see that!  Congratulations Yaunfen

[Doc] Puts their arms around Yaunfen's neck for a quick hug- My babies getting so big. I was thinking it would be a good time to check on the NOTCH's again and see if any of the baby dragons have developed speech yet.

[Lie] - Oh!  That sounds like a good idea.  Would you like some company?

[Doc] Oh yes. That would be appreciated.

[Lie] Smiles and tosses a rope around the donkey's neck- Let's go

[Doc] Do we need the mounts? Or are you just going to put them away?

[Lie] - I'll just put them away

[Doc] Follows the horses dutifully. Xe pulls out a peppermint cattail and plucks one for Yaunfen-

[Yaunfen] - Yummy!

[Lie] Jumps the animals into the pen and helps CN down-

[Doc] Walks along- Anyone else want one?

[Lie] - I'm sure the horses would appreciate it

[CN] - What is it?

[Doc] Cracks one in half and gives part to Beau and part to the donkey. Xe's pretty sure the vinehorse wouldn't be interested. - It's candy.

[Lie] - It's okay CN, they're really yummy

[CN] Isn't sure and hesitantly holds his hand out for a piece-

[Doc] Snaps another off like a little striped twig and passes it to him- Lie, do you want one?

[Lie] - Sure, why not

[CN] Takes a bite at it and makes an odd face, he's never tasted peppermint before-

[Doc] Breaks off one for hirself and another for Lie before putting the clump back in hir inventory. - Such a lovely plant. Though I'll never get sick of the berries we made toogether.

[Lie] - True- Lie begins descending down into the cave that the cage is in

[Doc] Opens the door to the cage and pauses to look up at the offensive plant clinging to the chandelier.

-The offensive plant quickly comes down to greet Lie who pets the plant-

[CN] - What is this place?

[Doc] It was originally meant to contain someone... now we use it as a vault to keep two entire worlds safe.

[CN] - Contain who?  The big meanie?

[Lie] Shifts nervously-

[Doc] we have used it for that before

[CN] - But who was it for originally?

[Lie] - That doesn't matter anymore CN, come on, let's go into the sub seed

[Doc] Opens a portal and steps into the open air of the other seed. Xe casts around for any sign of NOTCH Ai's or dragons-

[Lie] Guides CN through-

[NOTCHAI] Is helping some of the others garden in front of their shelter-

[Doc] Hello NOTCH. You guys have been making it more homey I see. Everyone getting along okay?

[NOTCHAI] - Ah, yes- He then notices CN- Are you bringing us another?

[CN] Kinda ducks behind Lie-

[Doc] No, unless he wants to stay at some point. This NOTCH was generated in response to Lie becoming a brine. My own showed up as well, he's... very unplesant.

[NOTCHAI] - I see...  I'm sorry to hear that, especially after how kind you've been to us...  I notice your child has grown bigger

[Doc] Thank you for that. I'm just glad I have good friends and loved ones to help me fend him off. And yes! Yaunfen is growing like one of Lie's plants. Just gave hir a big kids room of hir own. - Smiles at Yaunfen.

[Yaunfen] - My room!  My room!  Mada I have room!

[Lie] Giggles a little-

[Doc] Yep you do. And lots of books to nurture that sharp little mind of yours.

[Yaunfen] - Books!

[Doc] I came to check on you guys, but since my dragon went verbal I figured it was time to see if any of the babies here had done the same?

[NOTCHAI] Thinks for a moment- You know, I think I recall one of the others mentioning hearing something to the south, not too far away either since the others won't wander far from here

[Doc] Good enough for me. Actually, Cn? Do you want to hang out with the other NOTCH's for a bit? Talk some code while Lie and I pick around the nearby hills?

[CN] - Um...

[Lie] - Go ahead CN, you could learn some things

[CN] - Okay...

[Doc] We'll grab you before we go out. The portal from the cage is always in the same spot we came in from, over there-

[CN] Nervously- Okay...

[Lie] - Let's go Doc

[Doc] We'll be back. Come on Yaunfen, let's sniff out some other dragons.

[Yaunfen] - More friends?

[Doc] Maybe? We never know which ones will be smart like you and Liz and Endrea's kids.

[Yaunfen] - Awwww...

[Doc] Crests the hill and looks down- There are a few dragons playing in the grass, but none of them are very big. - I bet Thunder and Tsunami must be around.

[Lie] Searches and spots a black mass atop a nearby mountain- Up there

[Doc] Squints- You're right. Keeping a sharp eye out. - Xe walks along- Anybody around?

[???] - soft scuttle sounds on rock, the sound of many claws clicking -

[Yaunfen] Perks towards the noise-

[Doc] That's an odd noise. - Hello?

[Lie] Looks around in the grass a bit-

[Doc] Gets closer to a shadowy area near a patch of bare rocks-

[???] - sniffing sounds and a faint snort. Two yellow eyes open in the shadows -

[Doc] friendly tone-  Hello there. What kind of dragon are you?

[Lie] Keeps Yaunfen back so they don't scare the other dragon-

[???] - low hiss - Mine, mine... mine?

[Doc] Yours? Hey Lie! I found a verbal one! - turns to the dragon- What's yours? The cave?

[???] - more scuttling and a long black shape wanders away from the shadows. A long black dragon with red spikes and six legs, it stops just outside the shade and sits back on 4 out of 6 legs. In it's front paws, it's holding a black chunk of rock - Mine!

[Doc] Oh! You're so unique! What is it? Some coal?

[Lie] Softly- Awwwww...

[???] - watches closely, then slowly inches forward, holding the rock out toward them - Lick, tastie!

[Doc] Um? Are you sure? You said it was yours after all? - Is trying to get a look at the dragons teeth as they talk to see what kind of diet they have.

[???] - snorts, opening a mouth with only two visible fangs, the rest are long flat slabs. It takes a bite out of the rock.

[Doc] Ahh, I get it. I think you'd get along super well with our friend Liz. She likes to snack on crystals too. Do you have a name?

[???] - the dragon tips its head to the side, thinking then nods. With a paw it points to itself - Crim!

[Doc] Crim? I'm Doc and this is my child Yaunen and our friend Lie.

[Lie] Smiles gently and waves at Crim-

[Yaunfen] Tries lunging forward to sniff at Crim-

[Crim] - raises paw to wave back, but is startled but Yaunfen. Shrinks back, curling up into a ball so his spikes poke out, shaking - No!

[Yaunfen] - Friend? We play?

[Crim] - uncurls slowly, sniffing at Yaunfen- Play? Yes, play ok. Just no bite, no.

[Yaunfen] Jumps around happily, excited to play-

[Crim] - chomps the rest of his rock, then drops to all six legs to prance toward Yaunfen

[Yaunfen] Jumps at Crim- Play tag?

[Crim] - runs by and pats at Yaunfen gently with a foot - Go!

[Yaunfen] Happily takes off after them-

[Lie] Laughs a little- Looks like they're having fun...

[Doc] Looks like our quest has been rewarded. I think Crim is ready for a bit more stimulation then just running around in the wild. -Xe waves hir arms, trying to get the attention of the large black dragon on the promontory. It's hard to tell if it's Tsunami or Thunder from this distance. - Hey Crim? Would you like to come with us? We can offer food, a nicer shelter and an education if you want it. There are other verbal dragons on our seed to talk and play with too.

[Yaunfen] - Come with us! Come with us!

-The black dragon opens their wings and glides down beside them-

[Jean] Who are you? You better not be bothering the babies. Their adopted parents would be pretty pissed off.

[Doc] is surprised- I'm Doc. One of the admins for this seed. Who the heck are you? You're way to big to have been brought in with the babies.

[Jean] Scowls - I'm Jean, and the huge bitch let me in.

[Doc] What? Endrea? Why?

[Jean] To piss off my NOTCH.

[Doc] Wait, do you have a Herobrine? Or a Steve?

[Jean] His name is Steffan...

[Doc] Oh got the love of... Does Herobrine the Greifer King know you're here?!

[Jean] Yes...

[Lie] A bit worriedly- Doc?

[Junior] Wanders up, he's slobbering a little as his tongue hands slack.

[Doc] Gestures at Jean - this is the one that tortured Gk!

[Jean] I was doing my job! To protect my baby from NOTCHs wrath!

[Lie] - GK was tortured?

[Yaunfen] Sniffs at Junior- Play with us?

[Doc] He tried to kill Enderbro and Steffan and he was sealed in the End for a while as punishment while she chased him around and hurt him.

[Junior] Very slow blink and then some excited panting as they get the gist of the request, and prance a bit like a happy puppy.

[Lie] - Poor GK...

[Jean] a bit defensively- even if I'd have known he was a dragon trapped in the puny body of a Steve I could not have done things any differently. Our NOTCH is s capricious God who would not have hesitated to delete me and spawn another!

[Crim] - watches both the yelling woman and the other dragon carefully, worried.

[Yuanfen] Urges Crim to play again-

[Junior] Happy panting and bouncing around. He's big  and flapping his tiny wings with no real effectiveness,

[Lie] - Jean, was it?  Just what do you plan on doing now?

[Jean] Shrinks into herself - I plan to exist, and enjoy the sunshine for as long as it lasts.

[Lie] - And if GK comes here?

[Jean] He already has. I do not want to fight with him. Only protect my baby.

[Yaunfen] - Mada!  Mada!  Come play with us!

[Lie] Sighs- Well, so long as you don't start any fights...

[Doc] Tamps down hir General annoyance- aww you don't mind having a big kid romp with you?

[Yaunfen] - No!  No!  Come play!

[Crim] - wanders closer, but keeps Yaunfen between them and the larger dragon - Play good?

[Jean] Stares at her for a long moment- I have no wish to be destroyed. Thunder and Tsunami may not speak your tongue, but they are both greater in power then I. And Endrea made me swear to make no issues or she would punish me herself.

[Lie] - That does sound like her, just know if she is unreasonable towards you, you may speak to me.  Endrea answers to me

[Jean] You? I see that you have the eyes, but can I ask how you gained the loyalty of such a powerful beast?

[Lie] - It was her way of completely releasing herself from her NOTCH.  She could not make a contract with my mate as the rest of the mobs had, so she made one with me

[Doc] Takes a few steps back and shapeshifts with a little flourish-

[Jean] I think the NOTCHs do not realize the alliances forming against them. Thankfully for you all. -Is startled- what the?!

[Yaunfen] Laughs and jumps around, leaping up to tug at Doc's mane some-

[Doc] Shakes hir self off as the weight of the larger form settles around hir- ah, ready!

[Crim] - blinks in confusion, hunkering down, but not moving away.

[Doc] Has hir mane pulled- yipes! Gonna get cheeky with mada now that you're getting big huh? -Xe wiggles playfully and smootches Yaunfen on one of their thick horns.

[Yaunfen] Squeaks and falls backwards-

[Lie] Glances at the others before returning her attention towards Jean- I feel compelled to ask Jean, but will you help us fight the NOTCH's if the need ever arises?

[Doc] It's okay Crim, I won't hurt you.

[Jean] Looks at Junior- I promise nothing, he needs me. He... will never be independent I fear. I cannot risk leaving him alone. He would not survive...

[Crim] - sniffing then nods, relaxing and standing back up. He looks at Junior. - No step on, please? Play good!

[Junior] Cocks his head and just pants at Crim- Squeak!

[Doc] Romps gently, rolling in the grass-

[Jean] is just watching in amazement- is... Gk's? Predicament... Common? Dragons forced to be... humans?!

[Lie] - No, Doc and hir mate are different.  They have second bodies which were built for them

[Lie] Sits down to watch the others play-

[Crim] - runs around, darting between the larger dragons-

[Doc] Swishes hir tail enticingly to see if the little ones want to pounce it.

[Jean] They look pretty used to that shape for someone just wearing it...

[Lie] - They use it a lot

[Yaunfen] Immediately pounces the tail-

[Doc] Is just smiling broadly.

[Thunder] Soars by overhead-

[Doc] Calls out to the other dragon-

[Thunder] Cocks his head before spiriling down to land-

[Crim] - Squeaks, running behind Doc to hide -

[Doc] Waves cheerfully- It's okay Crim. It's one of the adults tasked with watching over you little hatchlings.

[Jean] Is a bit balled up with a submissive air-

[Thunder] Snorts at Jean a little before focusing on Doc-

[Doc] Crim here was interested in coming with us to the other server. I wanted you guys to know so you didn't think he was missing and panic.

[Thunder] Nods in understanding before checking over the other babies in the area-

[Doc] Okay Crim. You're go to go.

[Jean] Is guiding Junior to her with her tail and starts cleaning him.

[Doc] You can play with Yaunfen some more once we get back to my castle.

[Yaunfen] - Can they stay in my room?

[Lie] - Jean, there's no need to be so worried.  Thunder will not harm your child, especially with how many others he has to look after

[Crim] - slowly creaps back out and shuffles over to Yaunfen -

[Jean] Is just don't want to cause trouble...

[Lie] Laughs a little- They'd probably really appreciate it if you were to help them

[Yaunfen] Nudges Crim playfully-

[Doc] If you want to share, you can, Yaunfen. But I'll likely make a space for Crim too. So you aren't crowded.

[Jean] I-I'll think about it...

[Crim] - relaxes, but is cradling his tail in his front paws -

[Lie] Smiles gently at the female dragon before standing back up and dusting herself off- Shall we head back?

[Doc] Motions for the little ones to follow hir- Sure. Let's go pick up Cn.

[Lie] Brings up the rear to make sure nobody falls behind-

[Doc] Just trots along with small steps so the others don't fall behind.

-A few of the other smaller dragons dart by, but they ignore the procession, either more focused on playing, or seeking out territory-

[Doc] Gets a little distracted by them. - This all makes me so happy. All our little rescues.

[Lie] - And to think, Ashe started it all

[Doc] He's a good kid. And Endrea is a super mom. Plus I think babysitting has been really good for Gk. It's been a long time since I saw him pass out drunk anywhere. They make him feel wanted and needed. Maybe even respected.

[Lie] - I actually haven't seen GK since the runaway incident...

[Doc] I don't blame him for hiding. But I can pinpoint him when we get back if you're worried.

[NOTCHAI] Is helping CN pull some weeds-

[CN] Is pulling as hard as he can-

[Lie] Smiles at the sight-

[Doc] Hey Cn, nice to see you helping out. Did you guys have a good talk?

[NOTCHAI] - Yes, he seems rather...  Determined to a fault to protect his brine

[Doc] I guess it could be worse. And we did find what we were searching for. Crim? These are NOTCH Ai's. This one is the village leader here and the other is Lie's NOTCH, Cn.

[CN] Immediately wants to grab his sword to get between Lie and the new dragon, but the NOTCHAI stops him-

[NOTCHAI] - Now now, remember what we talked about

[Doc] It's okay Cn, Crim is friendly. He's just a child like you.

[Crim] - hisses and smoke puffs out his nose - Crim play good!

[Doc] That's right. You guys be nice to eachother.

[Yaunfen] - Play!  Play!

[Lie] Laughs a little- When we get home, okay?

[Doc] Pulls out a shulker box and passes it to the NOTCHAI - This is for you. It's just more supplies. Mostly food and stuff that's hard or impossible to craft.

[NOTCHAI] - Ah, thank you, I'll start organizing it soon

[Doc] Good enough. Come on guys, let's head back- Xe takes a few steps away and changes back to hir human shape before describing and opening a portal back into the cage.

[Lie] Steps through with CN closely following-

[Yaunfen] Bounds through-

[Doc] Casts around for a moment while xe adjusts to the slightly colder and damper air. Once everyone is through xe closes the opening.

[Lie] Stretches- Come on CN, let's head home

[Crim] - looks around in wonder, then darts forward -

[Doc] Leads the babies out into the tunnels, and stops for a moment to dig some coal from a wall to offer to Crim-

[Endrea] Is lounging on top of the roof in her dragon form-

[Crim] - sees what Doc is doing and joins digging coal out of the wall - NOMMIES!

[Lie] Laughs- Go ahead, I've got plenty in the house

[Doc] I figured. -  Quickly mines out a the whole vein, letting the items drop for Crim-

[Crim} - grabs the largest piece and starts crunching it up, little whisps of smoke curling out his mouth -

[Doc] Okay, bring your snack Crim, lets get back out into the sunshine - Leads upward-

[Yaunfen] Tries licking a piece of coal-

[Crim] - tries to carry as many pieces in his upper arms, while still chewing on the piece in his mouth., following -

[Doc] I think the coal from your seed is much tastier Yaunfen- Xe digs around and comes up with a hand sized spiral that smells strongly of licorice.

[Yaunfen] Leaps at it- Nummy!

[Doc] Just lets go so they can nom on it- I thought so.  

[talk-time-live]

TALKTIMELIVE.COM EXCLUSIVE with YEO: by Daxavier Josiah

37 years game developer Vadim Gilyazetdinov from Moscow, Russia, goes by the name “YEO”, which is a nickname he came up with in his school days while achieving a high score in a racing game. The name also pays homage to his appreciation and fandom for the Japanese culture. 

YEO has a passion and ambition to bring his narrative to life in the form of his favorite fandom which is video games. This led YEO (and his team) to create one of the most compelling retro 2D open world games out now for STEAM and recently Nintendo Switch called “The friends of RINGO ISHIKAWA.” which has received much praise by fans and media. I had the opportunity of talking with YEO about the creation of this title and more more. 

DAX: Where did your journey begin as a game developer?

YEO: I wanted to be connected with game development since University (I have a master’s degree in chemistry) but I didn’t know how to code and I couldn’t draw (I believed that I was good at writing dialogues though) so I applied to some Russian game development companies for any minor junior role they had but they just ignored me. It was no wonder since I hadn’t any work experience.

I started to work at some government company and in 2006 I was introduced to Game Maker 6.1 by my colleague and close friend with whom we run first Russian Nekketsu fan-site. And I made some beat-em-up action with Kunio-Kun sprites in a week ) And it was like whole new world opened for me )

But I never thought that I could do commercial games. I was just having fun with Nekketsu of Mighty Final Fight sprites. I made some small games with them for my local web friends and for myself and most importantly for the process of doing it. Since I don’t believe in result too much, you could achieve it or not, but the process is what you got anyway, so if it was fun and interesting that’s more than enough.

DAX: How many people did it take to develop this game as well as how long did it take to develop it?

YEO: The Steam made possible for small developers to be introduced to the large audience. And when my fellow developer passed Greenlight and then successfully released a game in 2015 I started to think of doing the same. I had quite good and stable job as a team leader at the Moscow IT Government Department so I could afford to hire an artist at last. I never thought of it before though, that you can just hire somebody.

So, I started to look for an artist. Prototype of the game was ready. All these years I tried different battle mechanics with Nekketsu sprites, and literally honed my skills little by little. You can see how Ringo looked back then: 

I posted some job description on game dev forums and it started (“your game is shit”, “you’re a moron” “you’re paying too low” “you should better be doing some Russian aesthetics”, “it’s a dumb clone”, “nobody could do 60 backgrounds alone”, “you should hire a team”) It really was hard to get by. I read all these insults and recommendations for 2-3 months and then suddenly one man sent me a really beautiful background and I thought “no kidding? It could be a BG for my game?” That’s how we started to work with Artem “Wedmak2” Belov, a man who made my game even possible. 

Then I had to recruit a characters artist. And it was another 2 months of hell. And I almost lost hope already. I asked every real live person I knew who could draw a straight line besides web searching and all my friends refused. I even asked my 58 years old father and he opened some image redactor, looked at pixels, closed and said no.

I was walking with my mother one day and she asked about the game, how the things going, and I said “mom, I can’t find an artist, please, talk to dad, he doesn’t work, he has nothing to do, maybe he can try again, it’s not that hard” and she said, “I’ll see what I can do”. I must say that my father is no artist. But he’s very talented in different areas so I believed that he could handle it if he wanted to. And couple of days later I installed him the graphics gale and taught him how to choose colors and place dots. And little by little, step by step, he drew around 1000 frames for Ringo in next 2 years. 

 I tried to work with musicians also but we couldn’t get along. First musicians wrote 3 tracks that I love though, and they wrote final theme among then (the best track in the game), the band named “indian&fox”, very talented guys, it’s sad that they couldn’t do whole soundtrack. So, in the end, Royalty Free Tracks saved me. It was really months of listening and choosing tracks and it was really time-consuming (I was doing it at night usually when I was too tired to code) but I’m proud of the result. I also don’t care about them been royalty free. Almost any Tarantino’s soundtrack is Royalty Free. 

And it was guys who did translations but it could be too long to tell about them. I want to mention Dmitry Ostrozhskiy above all who did English translation. And also Guillaume Veer, and Indienova team for Chinese localization and Misa Sekiguchi Webb, Ueda M. and Chie Koizumi for Japanese. If I started to name one I can’t forget others.

And, I had 2 web friends who discussed with me everything and gave their opinions and insights all these years. I consider them as a team. stray_stoat and Mr.Chelnoque. They were there for me anytime I needed them. And while they didn’t actually write dialogues or code or something like that’s a core of my team. It’s really hard to go such distance on your own. Only some hardcore guys like Eric Barone is capable of that.

So I was doing Ringo and when I was watching some movies like “La-La Land” or “Joy” or any other dream related stuff I couldn’t look in their eyes cause they asked me “all right you had a dream and you found out what you really love and you’re good at it but have you done everything you could? Did you give it all? Did you risk any?” And I couldn’t say “yes” to any of them. But it’s the life without regrets that give you real freedom. 

When I said to my wife that I had to quit the job she wasn’t really happy about it. But she said “Do what you gotta do. We’ll manage somehow.” I didn’t have to quit my job to release the game. I could easily release it while still working; I had a lot of free time there. But I was a casino gambler in my youth days so I knew that you need to bet something if you want to win any. And you better risk high if you want a jackpot). So my career was the only thing I could bet actually.

DAX: The friends of Ringo Ishikawa is a very ambitious and free-thinking experience with no rules and direction. Can you talk about what led to this form of gameplay?

I usually reflect on everything I do so when I reflected on my gaming experience I noticed that I don’t play to win a game. I play to live in a game. I played it like this since ZX Spectrum’s Saboteur for example

I never passed 3 first screens in the game since it was awfully controlled and dogs killed you by touching but you could be a ninja in it. In the first scene a ninja sails on the boat, then he enters some building and then dogs and enemies appear). But I was pretending that I was a wounded ninja who’s going to a suicide mission. And I was sailing in the boat like in a movie. So I was walking fearlessly and dying like a warrior. 

And I played almost any game like that. And on NES my favorites was Technos Japan’s Nekketsu series. All of them, but especially Downtown Nekketsu Monogatari (River City Ransom) and Nekketsu Kakutou Densetsu. You could live there. It was like early GTA game. Free roam/open city, usual daily activities. You couldn’t die also. 

And you had all other Nekketsu games as a part of one big Universe. So you could live in DNM, then switch to Ike Ike and play some hockey, then go fighting in NKD. I wished there was one big Nekketsu game where you could live and participate in different activities without changing cartridges. And I was designing one on the paper when I was at University. Just for fun. Just for “what if I could do a game someday”. And I wrote to notebook “You can smoke by pressing a button”. It was 2002 or 2004.

DAX: This has the definite essence of the classic 8-Bit series RIVER CITY RANSOM. Where there any other games that you were inspired by in the making of this title?  

Beside Technos games I was heavily inspired by Shenmue of course. That was another game of my dream. Martial Arts, Japan, snow flying right in the face.

Another obvious inspiration is Persona games, especially 3rd one. I didn’t like Tartarus part (though JRPG is my favorite genre) but the school part was perfect. 

My personal best (is) Final Fantasy 7. I believe it’s a perfect game and it inspires me every time I even think of it. You won’t see exact influences from it, but it’s there. For example, you could buy a villa later in the game (FF7). And by the time you could buy it you actually don’t need it. But it was something special when you just entered (the) menu and it said “Cloud’s Villa” in location’s name. Or you could hit a heavy bag in the basement. It didn’t do anything. You just could hit it. And that’s all.

DAX: Where there any coming of age/gang related movies, anime, or manga that inspired the creation of this game as well or maybe some past experiences growing up?

YEO: I think that everything you have seen and read and played is inspiring you and forming your sense of style and aesthetics. I was a delinquent myself, and a gambler addict, I used to box and kickbox and I’m still training, actually almost all Ringo movements are redrawn (not rotoscoped) by my father from my photos. So I wanted to share some personal feelings with players and I knew what I was talking about hard way. So I wasn’t look up to any manga or a movie actually. But I read and watched a lot, and I gave homage to some of my favorite works, Ringo can read some of my favorite books in the game.

Between youth gang movies my personal best is Korean “Once upon a time in high school”. That’s a real masterpiece, real masculine movie. I was aiming at this level of quality but I didn’t reach it. This movie is on another level. I hope that Ringo can still be compared to it.

DAX: You are obviously a fan of retro games, what were some of your favorites growing up?

YEO: I’m still playing retro games actually. I don’t really like new games and I hadn’t completed a game in 5 or 6 years. Last game that blew my mind was Way of Samurai 3. It’s a really awesome game. I didn’t like 4th game in the series and didn’t play first ones. But this game is something else. I also played a lot of EA Fight Night series, all of them are good and it’s a pity they abandoned the franchise. That’s my favorite “next-gen” games.

I like many PS one games, mostly JRPG: FF7, FF8, Xenogears, Wild Arms etc. There was some interesting CAPCOM beat'em up on PS2 I can recommend: Beat Down: Fists of Vengeance and Shinobido Imashime of course.

For real retro games, I still play first Streets of Rage from time to time, I beat it 3 or 4 times some weeks ago on Switch. My favorite straight beat'em up is Mighty Final Fight on NES though. I really love this game, it’s a gem. Also, I like Bucky O'Hare, Mitsumi ga Tooru, Double Dragon 2, Duck Tales. That’s my favorite on NES. Beside Nekketsu of course.

DAX: There are multiple ways to play “The friends of Ishikawa.” Is there one true way to play this game or did you have the idea of letting the player go to any direction they want and have different results?

I’m really tired of modern games that take you by the hand. If there’s a mini-map in a game you don’t look at the backgrounds, you play it on the minimap, so any game comes down to some white triangle moves to green circle which activates a cut scene, richly animated and directed, voiced over, cinema-like. Then you gain control over the character again and go to another green circle, sometimes you mash buttons between. I drop games like that in half an hour regardless the quality and graphics and wrinkles on the face when chars do smile.

I also tired of tutorial messages on any action. So I made only the basic ones in my game. So it’s easy to pick up like older games where any tutorials weren’t and there were 2-3 action buttons and you just tried everything. And I think its fun. It’s a kind of exploration. You try different things and see outcome and you investigate and when you discover something you really enjoy it and you feel smart and by doing it you (are) starting to feel connected to a character.

We argued about all this with mr.chelnoque and stray_stoat but I believed in my vision and positive reviews proved my point. I knew that there’d be many players disappointed that the game doesn’t give you any direction and you don’t know what to do etc. But I also knew that some players would love it for the same reason. And that goes for multiple endings as well. I considered different endings of course and at some point, it was even “A friend of Ringo Ishikawa” so you had to generate your character who was Ringo’s best friend from childhood and you could more role-play in the game, it was a date-sim part also. But then I decided to tell this exact story about this exact character with the exact ending. So some things just fell off. It’s not in Ringo’s character to have multiple girlfriends for example, so I gave up on the dating sim. And there were more sacrifices I had to do.

As for the right way to play it, on the contrary, I wanted players to play their own but to stay in a character. That’s why you can’t rob your classmates, for example, and you still have to fight in some scenes cause Ringo is a gang leader, after all, you can’t turn him into a complete nerd.

The whole game came from one final scene and I designed it backwards actually, I wanted players to really feel that very scene. I don’t want to spoil it though for those who didn’t complete the game. So I wanted payers to live in the game and to feel the ending if they care to complete it. 

DAX: What’s next for you? Is there any chance we will see a sequel following The Life of RINGO? 

YEO: I’d rather not do it and I have some reasons for it.

First of all, I’ve said what I wanted with this game. I also wanted to make a game with a generated character where you could really do what you want and have different endings (like Way of Samurai for example) but if I expand Ringo’s Universe his story could fade. And I don’t want to sacrifice it.

Secondly, it’s really common to make a sequel to a well-received game. And while it’s easy it could turn into creative chains, I want to be free. That’s why I quit my job also. To do what I want to and not what is best for business or others. 

That’s why my second game will be quite short also. I understand that some players have great expectations of my games but it also can drain creativity, fear of failure. So again I decided on what to do next just by listening to myself. "What kind of game you want to do now? What inspires you?” And when I captured setting and gameplay it turned out that I can’t do a long game with it. But gameplay is really good and I have one interesting idea also, and some thoughts I want to share. So I decided on what could be good for this idea to be properly told.

I want to try to stay creatively free for as long as I can.

I almost ready with this game, but Artem Belov (who’s in charge of BG again and he’s doing astounding work again, even better than in Ringo), he got married and got an office job so he (has a) lack of time now, and he draws slowly. And while I’m waiting for him I started to work on another project but it’s a secret for now. 

Thanks to YEO for taking the time to chat with me on such a great game. Be sure to check out “The friends of RINGO ISHIKAWA” available now on STEAM and Nintendo Switch (and Nintendo E-Shop).

[jeroldlockettus]

Why You Shouldn’t Open a Restaurant (Ep. 347 Update)

The all-star food writer Kenji López-Alt decided to open his own restaurant. Then came kitchen snafus, disastrously clogged toilets, and long days away from his young daughter. (Photo: Max Pixel)

Kenji López-Alt became a rock star of the food world by bringing science into the kitchen in a way that everyday cooks can appreciate. Then he dared to start his own restaurant — and discovered problems that even science can’t solve.

Listen and subscribe to our podcast at Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, or elsewhere. Below is a transcript of the episode, edited for readability. For more information on the people and ideas in the episode, see the links at the bottom of this post.

*      *      *

This week, we’re playing an updated Episode No. 347, “Why You Shouldn’t Open a Restaurant.” It features the best-selling food writer Kenji López-Alt, telling us about his adventures as a first-time restaurateur. And then, at the end of the original episode, you’ll hear a recent follow-up interview that’ll give you even more reasons to never, ever open a restaurant. Also, we’re bringing Freakonomics Radio Live to Philadelphia on June 6 and London on Sept. 7. For tickets, go to freakonomics.com/live. You’ll also find information on our upcoming shows in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Chicago.

*      *      *

Some people just can’t leave well enough alone. Consider, for instance, the case of the famous food writer, the one who used the scientific method to take apart everything we know about cooking and put it back together.

Kenji LÓPEZ-ALT: If you use vodka in place of some of the water in your pie crust, you end up with a dough that is much flakier and much lighter.

He investigated whether the key ingredient in New York pizza really is the water.

LÓPEZ-ALT: So I did a full double-blind experiment where I got water — starting with perfectly distilled water and up to various levels of dissolved solids inside the water. And what we basically ended up finding was the water makes almost no difference compared to other variables in the dough.

He found that the secret to General Tso’s chicken lay in geometry.

LÓPEZ-ALT: The geometry of food is important because one of the big things is surface-area-to-volume ratio.

And he explored the relationship between meat and salt; he proved why it’s important to salt a hamburger at the last minute, on the surface of the meat:

LOPEZ-ALT: We rented a baseball pitching machine that would throw hamburgers at the wall at 45 miles per hour. You’ll see that salted hamburger kind of bounces off the wall like a rubber ball, whereas the burger that has salt only on the outside kind of splatters.

This was the man who finally brought science into the kitchen in a way that non-scientists could appreciate. It helped that his work was fun, not preachy, and delicious. We interviewed him a while back, for an episode called “Food + Science = Victory!”

LÓPEZ-ALT: I think a lot of people think of science as sort of the opposite of tradition or the opposite of natural. And really it’s not.

He had just published his first cookbook, a massive thing called The Food Lab, which went on to win a James Beard Award. His reputation and reach only grew. But then, something else beckoned. Was it opportunity — or a trap?

LÓPEZ-ALT: It’s that temptation you can’t resist.

Today on Freakonomics Radio: the food writer who flew too close to the flame.

*      *      *

Kenji López-Alt grew up in New York, in a family of scientists, and went off to M.I.T. to study biology. He got a little bored, maybe burnt-out, and during the summers started working in restaurant kitchens in Boston. After college, he worked in an architecture firm for a bit.

LÓPEZ-ALT: For a few months, half a year maybe.

And then back to restaurant kitchens.

LÓPEZ-ALT: My very first restaurant job was at a place called Fire and Ice. It’s a Mongolian grill, so I was a knight of the round grill. I stood in the middle of a giant cast iron grill and cooked stir-fried food for people, and flipped asparagus tips into the air and stuff.

Over the next several years, he worked in a series of higher-end restaurants in Boston.

LÓPEZ-ALT: After that, that was the end of my culinary career, or my cooking career.

He began building a career as a food writer, at Cook’s Illustrated and America’s Test Kitchen. Then, on the food site Serious Eats, he started a column called The Food Lab. He wasn’t expecting to turn into a food-writing rock star.

LÓPEZ-ALT: I absolutely wasn’t expecting it. I was a freelance writer living in a one-bedroom apartment with no windows in Brooklyn at the time.

DUBNER: Now, after doing all that and having that platform and enjoying it, what made you think it was a good idea to not only get back into the restaurant business, but open your own restaurant?

LÓPEZ-ALT: It’s always that temptation you can’t resist. It’s like, “Oh, what if I just went back and do cooking for a little while? Would I be able to do this?” So, I had a daughter. She’s 17 months old now.

DUBNER: Congratulations.

LÓPEZ-ALT: Thank you. And when she was born, my wife and I decided that she would continue to work, and I would be the at-home parent. So I’ve been a stay-at-home dad for the last 17 months. And about six months into that, I was approached by some friends of friends who owned a bar in San Mateo, near where we live. And they were interested in opening up a beer hall and they were looking for a chef partner. And so I thought this might be something fun I could do in my spare time. Which, you don’t have too much spare time with a baby on your hands, but I thought this could be something fun and this is a good opportunity, relatively low-risk. Mainly it was because my wife and I sort of longed for a place like this in San Mateo, a family-friendly, casual, upscale place. And that was the concept that they were working on. So it seemed perfect for me.

And initially I thought my involvement would be relatively minimal. I would work on some menus. I would lend my name to the menu. What was actually really surprising to me was — when I first signed on with them, I sent a short little tweet saying, “Hey, this is happening, I’m opening a restaurant,” something like that. Eater picked it up. A bunch of other publications picked it up. And then all of a sudden it became not, “Kenji López-Alt is partnering with these two guys who are opening a restaurant.” What it became was, “Kenji López-Alt is opening a restaurant.” And then I was like, “Oh man, I guess I’m really going to get sucked into this.”

DUBNER: Okay, so the restaurant is called Wursthall. So, first of all, for those who haven’t been to San Mateo, California, just give us a quick sense of the vibe of the place, and then we’ll get into the restaurant and why the choices were made to have a German beer hall with sausages.

LÓPEZ-ALT: Well, San Mateo is a city that’s basically dead center between San Francisco and Silicon Valley. My wife works at Google and she works down in Silicon Valley. We initially moved up into the city and her commute was crazy. So we’re like, “All right we’ll move down to San Mateo.” And if you look at the real estate curve: very expensive everywhere, but extremely expensive in San Francisco, extremely expensive in Silicon Valley. And in San Mateo and a couple of the surrounding cities, there’s a small dip, so we were like, “Alright, that’s where we can afford to live.” And that’s where my wife’s commute will be all right. I think there’s actually a lot of people in our situation there right now.

DUBNER: Why a German beer hall — why was that the right concept? Or why was that the concept they wanted?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Well, it’s two factors. One of them is the space itself. We’re located in a really nice, old, historic building, lots of nice light, so it seemed very conducive to this beer-hall atmosphere. The other thing is that my partner Adam Simpson, he is really into beer. And finally, beer halls are kind of just popular right now. So it seemed like a concept that worked in the space, that worked with Adam’s knowledge-base, and it seemed to be something that was hot and lacking in the San Mateo area.

So far so good, right? So for everyone out there who’s thinking, “Hey, maybe I should open a restaurant” — we asked Kenji López-Alt: “what’s the first step?”

LÓPEZ-ALT: So, the first step to opening a restaurant is, don’t. Opening a restaurant is a series of putting out fires every single day. I mean, even once you’re open, it’s still a series of putting out fires. Step one: don’t.

DUBNER: Okay. So, can you walk us through the opening process? What kind of work goes into those preparatory weeks, months, I assume?

LÓPEZ-ALT: So, the first step is, you have to have a reason for people to believe that you’re going to succeed and to give you money to do it. Because it’s not cheap to open a restaurant. And then from there it’s working with the architects and designers and doing all the build-out, which inevitably takes way more time than you expect. And for us we had this extra problem, because we’re in this really old building and the previous tenants and the landlord, they didn’t take the best care of the space.

But working back from my side, from the kitchen perspective: initially a lot of it was conceptualizing how German do we want to be? How California do we want to be? Because we knew we wanted to do both. Figuring out what the service style was going to be, and how customers are going to order. And really thinking to ourselves, “All right, when people come in here, what are they coming in to do?” Initially, when Adam and my other partner, Tyson Mao — when they were thinking of a beer hall, they thought, “Right, this is going to be essentially a bar. Some people maybe come to have a nice meal, but most will be coming to drink and have some food on the side.” And that’s what the initial menu is designed around: a selection of sausages, a couple of sandwiches, some appetizers to share.

So now he got to work creating a menu.

LÓPEZ-ALT: I had developed the initial opening menu on my own in my home kitchen before we had even hired any sort of kitchen staff. And I’m pretty methodical, so I had a recipe booklet written out, everything done in metric units, something that anybody could look at and replicate. Part of the idea was because it’s going to be relatively low-priced and high-volume, the kitchen has to be able to run itself, even without very minute oversight.

DUBNER: What about the sausage-making itself? That’s a big component. Can you just talk about how involved you were in the design and execution, and maybe experimentation, and figuring out how to not only make the sausages that you wanted, but how they were going to be prepared?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Yeah, from the start, we knew that we weren’t going to be able to make the sausages in-house, because we didn’t have the facilities. So in order to make a large volume of sausage, you need to have a dedicated refrigerated room, where you can grind and mix and stuff and everything, because if sausage mixture gets too warm while you’re forming it, it doesn’t bind properly, and your sausages end up crumbly and dry. It was literally physically impossible for us to make sausages in-house. So very early on we decided, “All right, we’re going to have to find some partners to work with who can execute our ideas at a level of quality and volume that we’re happy with.”

DUBNER: Is it an easy thing to find, someone who can handle that kind of quality and especially volume?

LÓPEZ-ALT: No. I mean the sausage part was mainly me going to every single sausage maker I could find in the Bay Area. We did want to keep it local. We visited many, many butchers and sausage makers, and there are many, many bad sausages around. Sausage-making is a non-trivial skill. You think, “Okay it’s just meat and fat, spiced, ground up, stuffed into a casing. How hard could it be?” But it’s one of these things where the minutiae of the technique can make a huge difference in the quality of the final product. It mainly comes down to the binding element, making sure that you have the right level of salt, and that the meat has been salted long enough that the proteins start to dissolve before you mix it. Making sure that you mix it right, and that you have the right ratio of fat to lean. And then also making sure that it stays chilled through the entire process.

And if any one of those things is off, your sausage doesn’t bind properly. And that’s what you find is the problem with most mediocre sausages. They could be flavored very well, they could be crazy and interesting, but if they’re not mixed properly they crumble instead of having that nice, juicy, snappy texture that I look for in a sausage. And so finding someone who can do that was hard.

There was also the consideration of creating a sausage restaurant that could be vegan-friendly.

LÓPEZ-ALT: So one of my goals from the beginning was: vegan items on the menu that aren’t vegan by omission, they’re just vegan by default, and they’re delicious. So we have a number of things like that, but the one that I was really excited about is a vegan doner kebab. And for that I worked with a company called Impossible Meats, they make a vegan ground-meat blend mostly out of wheat protein, but they add heme, which is a lot of what gives red meat its irony, bloody flavor. But it can also be derived from plant sources. It’s by far the best faux meat available. And so what we do is we spice it with Turkish spices — so cumin, urfa biber chilies, sumac.

And then we serve it as a — well, initially we were reforming it into a cylinder and doing it in front of one of those doner kebab spits that spins around, and you shave it off. But the fat in this stuff is coconut oil, and coconut oil melts at a slightly lower temperature than animal fat does, so the fat would end up melting out of it, and it would eventually just crumble off the spit. So that didn’t end up working. It would’ve been so cool if we could get that to work. Now we’re just forming it straight into hamburger-style patties, so all the flavor is there.

DUBNER: Okay, so you talked about the food and the building, etc. What about the people? How involved were you in hiring and training up the kitchen and front of house?

LÓPEZ-ALT: I was very involved in back of the house, and finding good people is by far the hardest thing. So, when you’re living in a place like New York or San Francisco, where the cost of living is so high, finding great people is very hard. Even finding remotely reliable people. Even before we opened, when we were training staff, we must have lost probably 50 percent over the course of a few weeks.

DUBNER: Wow.

LÓPEZ-ALT: Which is not abnormal. One day we’re there and two of our cooks don’t show up. What do we do? One of them was on a bender and the other one was just a no-show. But then, luckily, the restaurant down the street, all the cooks there showed up that morning and the manager said, “We’re closing, and you don’t have a job anymore.” So, suddenly we had 12 cooks just walk up to the front door saying, “Hey, can we have a job?” So there’s never really a shortage of résumés and applicants, it’s finding reliable people that’s hard. What I’ve discovered in my years as a cook — and it played out exactly as expected here — was that it’s much better to hire people who give a s—, even if they have no previous experience or skills, than to hire someone who has a great résumé who doesn’t really understand the concept.

Our No. 1 kitchen hire is this guy Erik Drobey, who is a career changer, he was in his 40’s, he worked in an office job, always loved cooking on the side, was a Food Lab follower. He stopped by my house once to give me some sausages and sauerkraut he made because he was so proud of them. And they were great, I thought they were great. And then he said, “Hey, I think I’ve decided I want to be a cook. Would you give me a shot?” I’m like, “Absolutely.” Finding people who really care. That’s the key. Because you can always teach people skills, but you can’t teach people to give a s—.

DUBNER: And what about front of the house?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Front of the house is actually probably even a little bit harder at the start, because you have to really dangle this carrot in front of them because during training and during the first month that we were doing friends and family meals, people are working and they’re getting paid, but they’re not getting the same tips that they would. And so they have to realize, “Okay, I’m putting in this work now. So in a month I’ll be making much more money.” But it’s hard to find people who are willing to think about that.

DUBNER: So shortly before opening, you tweeted — in all caps, by the way — “Opening a restaurant is insane. And I don’t know why anyone in their right mind would choose to do it.” So what’s going on in the weeks and days just before opening?

LÓPEZ-ALT: I can tell you what was in my head when that tweet went out. It was not actually related directly to the restaurant itself, it was more about its toll on my personal life, and particularly my family life and my marriage, because a restaurant is a harsh mistress. During those three months I was in there, I would wake up, take my daughter to daycare, go to the restaurant from 9:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m., go pick up my daughter from daycare, bring her home, put her to bed, and then go back to the restaurant from 8:00 p.m. until 1:00 a.m. It had been two-and-a-half months where I had been basically never at home. I saw my daughter for a few hours a day, but I basically never saw my wife.

We lost the chance to sit down and talk together. The only time I ever saw her was when we were with our daughter, so we never really had any alone time, which is very difficult when you’re raising a child, to not be able to talk to your partner, not even have the time to talk about things related to raising the child. And the worst part of it was that no matter how well you plan, and you think to yourself, “Right, this is the amount of work I’m going to have to put into this restaurant, and I’m just going to say no after that,” it’s really hard to say no when there’s 40 people whose jobs rely on you making this a success.

Finally, Wursthall was ready for its soft opening — investors, friends and family.

LÓPEZ-ALT: About 100 people, and everything was great. We had completely gutted the old bathrooms, retiled them in this beautiful blue tile, really nice wallpaper with these hand pen-and-ink-drawn animals and stuff. It was a really nice bathroom. And the first night we had 100 people in, the toilets backed up, stopped working. And we had to shut down the bathrooms. And as it turns out, the waste line leaving one of the toilets had never been repaired or replaced in probably decades and decades and had a huge sag in it. So we had to close for two weeks so that they can rip out all the tile we just put in, dig into the foundation, replace that. All of a sudden, we thought we were going to be ready to open the next week and now it’s like another two weeks and another 30 grand to fix the bathroom that we had never even considered might be a problem.

*      *      *

Kenji López-Alt, rock star of the food-writing world, decided after years on the sidelines to get back into the restaurant business with a place called Wursthall, in San Mateo, California, which started out as a simple concept: a German beer hall serving nouveau-ish sausages.

LÓPEZ-ALT: I was always one of these “I’d rather have influence and bring joy to people than have a lot of money” type-of-career people, you know? And if the money comes along with it, then that’s great as well. But I’d rather just be doing something I love.

DUBNER: Okay, so walk us through opening night, and I’m sure everything went exactly as it was planned, and everybody was thrilled, and it was perfect. Yes?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Well, we had a sizable number of people in there and we were cooking food, people were ordering food, tickets were coming in, we were firing it. It was a disaster. Major, major disaster. Some people were waiting over an hour for their food. Some people never got their food. It’s the kind of night where we’re like, “These problems are insurmountable, how the f— are we going to fix this?” But we decided, “All right, we’ll focus on a couple of the big problems first.” When I tell them to you, they’re going to seem like stupid, small things. It’s like, “Well, why couldn’t you just do that?”

So, one of them was that we have sausages and you get your choice of topping. One of the problems was communicating to the cooks on the line. In case you’re not aware of how restaurant kitchens work, there’s a line, which is where all the stoves are, where the counters with the little cutting boards are, it’s where the cooks, the guys and girls are actually making the food. And then there’s a station called “expo,” the expediter, and the expediter’s job is to first of all act as a liaison between the front of the house and the back of the house. But, more importantly, the expediter’s job is to coordinate everybody in the back of the house so that dishes come out at the same time, so that everyone in the back of the house knows what they’re doing. So, essentially, they’re the general managing the army back there.

On opening night, we had all the toppings back on the line, and I was expediting, and I was just calling out, saying, “All right, hot Italian with speck and cherry-pepper relish. One bratwurst with sauerkraut.” And it’s a lot of information to take in when you have a full restaurant, there’s 100 people there, and you’re cooking say, 25, 30 sausages at a time, and each one has their own designated topping. It’s a lot of information for the person on the line actually cooking it and plating it to take in. And so every single sausage had this huge delay, where they maybe go out with the wrong topping on it and we’d have to re-fire it, or they would yell out and everything is really noisy, and we can’t hear each other.

And once you have these tiny little problems, that can lead to huge, huge backups, because the customers — they don’t care what problems you have back there. Once they’re seated, they want to start ordering food. And they don’t care that you already have a full board of tickets and that the grill is completely full. They don’t care that you screwed up one order and you have to re-fire it. Those tickets are just going to keep coming and coming and coming. So you have the ticket printer machine that’s spitting out these tickets constantly, and you’re constantly struggling to try and catch up with it. And that puts more and more stress on you. So you make more mistakes, the people on the line make more mistakes. And it can be these tiny little things that add to the likelihood of making a mistake that can throw a wrench in the entire operation, and that’s essentially what happened that first night.

So, the second night, what we did was we took those toppings, we took them off the line, and put them next to the expediter’s station, next to my station, so that all they had to remember was which sausages they were cooking. They would pass the sausages to me, right before I handed it to the server, I would put the topping on. I had the ticket right in front of me, it was easy for me to read it. And that smoothed things over unbelievably so. A couple of seconds of extra work on the cook’s part, it translated from a sausage taking over an hour to get to a customer, because there was this huge backlog of tickets, to customers getting their sausages in about eight minutes.

There was another major problem they discovered only on opening night.

LÓPEZ-ALT: And it’s one that we didn’t resolve until relatively recently.

It had to do with the pretzels.

LÓPEZ-ALT: So, I’m also partner at a bakery called Backhaus and they make all of our pretzels and all of our bread. Really wonderful pretzels, but we serve them hot. So we were trying to figure out, “How do we get these pretzels that were baked that morning and delivered to us, how do we serve them hot and fresh?” And the obvious thing is, “All right, well, when someone orders a pretzel, put it in the oven, let it get hot, and then we serve it.”

This was a problem in a couple different ways: one of them was that Backhaus, they were salting their pretzels before they came to us. And what happens with pretzel salt is that it draws out moisture from the pretzels, so after eight hours or so, some of the moisture from the pretzels beads up on the surface of the pretzels and then it leaves kind of a splotchy wet marks, which is not good, and the salt is all gone. So we’re like, “Okay, so we have to salt our pretzels,” so that’s adding another layer of stuff we have to do. And the only oven that we have back on the line is next to the fry station, and the fryer is extremely busy with potatoes and we also do a chicken schnitzel sandwich. Adding pretzels on top of that to him became very difficult. So, for the early nights, we were firing pretzels to-order in the oven. And that was another one of those things that seemed like it’s a thing that takes two seconds, but it just piled onto the likelihood that we were going to screw something up.

So what was the pretzel-salting solution?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Well, we found a much more efficient way of salting them. So, one of the cooks had this idea to take a squeeze bottle, cut off the top until it was big enough that pretzel salt could flow through it. Now what we do is we just spray the pretzels and draw a line, trace the outline with the squeeze bottle, and that clears up all the space.

DUBNER: So what you just described, plainly these are things that most people eating at restaurants would never ever think about.

LÓPEZ-ALT: And they shouldn’t have to think about it.

DUBNER: But you have to think about it! But, as you’re describing it, it strikes me that you being who you are, and the way that you like to work, and the way that you do take an empirical and scientific approach to food and cooking and so on, that you were driven to solve these problems and get it right. Is that often the difference between a restaurant that works and one that doesn’t, which is that you have to be driven to constantly adjust, solve problems like that, that are going to come up? Do most restaurants really try as hard as you just described?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Most restaurants really try as hard. Any good chef cares deeply about the quality, and any good restaurant owner cares deeply about the quality of what they’re putting out. So I don’t think I’m unique in that regard at all. Me and my partners, Tyson and Adam, we have a lot of sit-down meetings where we analyze problems and try and solve them. So, maybe we do that a little bit more than other restaurants, but that’s my skill. I’ve worked for chefs that seem to have an innate skill to just be able to figure things out on the fly, or be able to work harder and faster to be able to solve those problems. People will attack those problems in different ways. But any good restaurant owner is going to recognize those problems and try and solve it in their own way.

DUBNER: I’m curious how much you pay attention to reviews of any sort. If you had opened a restaurant 10, certainly 20 years ago, there’s so much less feedback then, and now, some people feel swamped by it. Some people feel a lot of it is disingenuous. I know you said in the past that Yelp, in fact, this is from a tweet of yours: “Yelp is and has always been the worst place to look for decent reviews. Shady business practices, reviews by people who I know nothing about and have no reason to trust their opinion, even on the off chance they actually dined at the restaurant you’re rating.” So talk about that for a minute, your experience with Yelp and/or other online reviews.

LÓPEZ-ALT: So, it’s difficult to gain value from them for me.

DUBNER: You mean as a consumer or a producer?

LÓPEZ-ALT: As a consumer. To some degree, as a producer there is a little bit of value to it. But, especially if you start looking at trends and see, all right, people that are complaining, what are they complaining about? At the beginning when we opened, it was service. And that was some very legitimate feedback on that.

DUBNER: You didn’t need online reviews to know that was a problem, I gather, right?

LÓPEZ-ALT: There’s very little that I’ve read, I’ve seen in Yelp, that we didn’t already realize was a problem. As a consumer of Yelp, I find Yelp useful as a map of what restaurants are around, but it’s hard to trust opinions. A very good professional review, you don’t necessarily have to agree with the reviewer’s point of view on what is good and what’s not, but if you have an idea of what they think is good, then they tell you whether this restaurant met those expectations, and then you can sort of gauge, “All right, well, do I agree with whether that’s good or not?” And that’s what a good restaurant review will do. Whereas on Yelp, it’s like someone, BasicUser12345, says “this restaurant was terrible, the potatoes sucked.” Well, I don’t know what you define as good potatoes, so how is that helpful to me?

DUBNER: But the problem is that everybody eats, right? So everybody considers themself a legitimate critic, which, you can’t totally discount that fact, can you?

LÓPEZ-ALT: No, no you can’t. But at the end of the day, I’m involved in this project because I want to be, I want to have my name on it. I want to be proud of what we’re putting out. At some point you just have to stick to your guns and say, “This is what I believe is good. And I’m not going to change that just because some people say they disagree that it’s good.” And if your idea of what is good is so far off from what most people think is good, then maybe you’re in trouble and you’re going to go out of business. But I’m of the mind that I’d rather lose a little business and stick to what I believe is true than to just pander to everybody to try and make the most money, which is hard to explain to partners and investors. But at the end of the day, as a food writer, I think I do have a pretty good pulse of what people think is good.

DUBNER: Right. So overall on Yelp, Wursthall is doing pretty well. Averaging about three-and-a-half out of five stars. So let me read you one Yelp review and hear your response.

LÓPEZ-ALT: Ok, I honestly haven’t looked at Yelp reviews since, like, the second month after we opened, so we’ll see, all right.

DUBNER: This is from just over a month ago. This is from Andrew R. He writes, “I was really disappointed. I expected more. Not that I had high expectations. They were modest, honestly. But it fell below that bar as well. For one, the service was not that great. For two, the food just isn’t that good. It’s okay. Like, you would eat it if you were hungry. But another sausage would probably satisfy you more. And I like a split-top bun because you can grill both sides like they do here. But when it’s split only halfway down there’s a lot of bread with no meat at the bottom. And that’s terrible. Cut that bun all the way down. It’ll be better. Trust me.” So, that’s Andrew R. What does Kenji L. say?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Well, I’ll start from the end of it and work back. Believe it or not, we tested how far to cut the bun extensively before opening. And trust me when I say it’s not better to cut it too far, because the buns end up falling apart. It doesn’t stand right. That sounds all fair, I mean those seem like legitimate concerns. If I was at the restaurant, I would definitely love to talk to him and get a little more details about exactly what they were disappointed with. What is it about the sausage that you didn’t like? And to his point about sausages being not great: I fully admit sometimes, like any restaurant or any business, we have consistency issues now and then, and we work our best to make sure that those don’t happen. And every day gets better.

DUBNER: Here’s a professional review, this is Peter Lawrence Kane on SF Weekly. He writes, “The quality of the food is high, and it is consistent. The thing is, considering López-Alt’s eminently well-deserved reputation for being a demystifier of culinary techniques, Wursthall falls a little short of the gosh-wow factor longtime fans might clamor for. Maybe that’s not entirely fair. After all, it’s exactly what it claims to be.” What’s your take on that, Kenji?

LÓPEZ-ALT: So, I fully agree with that. This is again one of those things where it’s like what happened to the restaurant between the initial concept and between what customers expect. And, the initial concept was, “All right, we’re going to serve some damn good sausages. We’re going to make our own sauerkraut. It’s going to be good sauerkraut, but it’s still sausages and sauerkraut.” And there’s only so far that can go, as far as gosh-darn-wow factor. This is one of those things where the concept of the restaurant on paper turned out very different from what the restaurant is now. Once my name got attached to it and started bringing the media attention to it, it turns out people are coming there for dinner. They’re not coming there to drink. So, we started as a beer hall, but we’re not really a beer hall anymore. We’re a restaurant. And so that’s been one of the challenges since opening, coming to terms with that and realizing, “You know what? Some of the stuff we initially thought isn’t going to work, because customers are coming in with different expectations.” Any restaurant takes a while to find its legs. I think for us maybe it’s taking a little bit longer just because it was such a big shift from what we had initially planned compared to what customers perceive.

DUBNER: I see that — maybe yesterday, or within the last little while, you tweeted — a new menu item that’s starting soon. Maybe maybe it’s already started by now.

LÓPEZ-ALT: Starting today. I was at the restaurant all morning training the staff and making making sure the cooks knew how it worked.

DUBNER: So, this is tomato mayo toast with grilled corn vinaigrette and a corn soup, paprika oil and shishito peppers. So that’s not what I think of as beer-hall food. Was it the clientele who drove it primarily? In other words, were people confused when they came originally because they know your name and they think it was going to be more of a sit-down, knife-and-fork situation?

LÓPEZ-ALT: I think that’s part of it. I definitely saw comments saying, like, “I expected the menu to be a little more Kenji than what it is.” Because it’s sausages, and I don’t write that much about sausages. I don’t eat that many sausages. I like them. And we cook them well, but it doesn’t exactly scream “Kenji” or “Food Lab” or whatever. So, yes, part of this revamping process has been, “How do we make this menu more me?”

DUBNER: So from what I’ve read, you own 12 percent of the restaurant and 20 percent of anything else with these partners?

LÓPEZ-ALT: It’s something like that. That’s ballpark correct.

DUBNER: Would you have had the same share of ownership had you just acted as a sort of consulting-founding chef, as opposed to roll up your sleeves fully involved?

LÓPEZ-ALT: No. My partners are actually very understanding of the entire situation and the fact that I’ve now got more involved than I was planning on. Initially it was it was going to be basically just a fee plus a smaller percentage of ownership.

DUBNER: The big question I have then really is, so far, do you feel overall that it’s worth it? Another way of putting that is, if I came to you tomorrow, Kenji, with an idea that you liked, an idea for a restaurant, maybe a site for a restaurant, and a potentially worthwhile partnership, what do you do? Do you succumb? Or do you refrain this time?

LÓPEZ-ALT: I would say the restaurant on its own, in a bubble, detached from every other part of my life, was absolutely worth it. I don’t mind putting in hours and hours and hours of work even for little to no — I haven’t made any money off this restaurant yet, and I don’t plan on making any money for a while, until we pay off our investors. But we don’t live in a vacuum. So if someone came to me right now and asked me if I want to do this restaurant again, I would probably say no. Only because it cost me three months of being with my daughter. And that was a price that I wasn’t expecting to have to pay at the beginning, and one that made me deeply sad as it was happening, and also in retrospect. I don’t regret anything I did with the restaurant. I do regret how it affected my personal life and my family. But we learned those lessons.

DUBNER: Okay, final question. Let’s say that — maybe this is when your daughter is in school, when your daughter is in college even — but let’s say I come to you and I want you to work with me to open a new restaurant. What is the dream concept? Whether it’s cuisine or style or location. What is the restaurant that you absolutely would sacrifice again almost your entire life to do?

LÓPEZ-ALT: It would be something much smaller than Wursthall. So, we’re opening a couple more Wursthalls in the coming years, but we’ve talked about other restaurant concepts as well, and if we were to work on something together again, we would do something much smaller. The idea I’ve been throwing out at them is a Korean fried chicken sandwich place, which is a recipe that I’ve done at a number of pop-ups, I think is extremely delicious, but it’s essentially chicken brined in kimchi juice and then done Nashville hot chicken style. But instead of the Nashville hot chicken oil that goes on there, we make a sauce with Korean chili flakes and a bunch of Korean flavors, and it’s super delicious and the kind of thing that I think would do well as a fast-casual thing. That would basically be it for me. I want to feed a lot of people and make them happy. I don’t want to open an ego restaurant. I don’t want people to come to worship at the altar of Kenji López-Alt, come for this experience. I want a place that people say, “Hey, that’s a f—ing good sandwich. I’m going to have that once a week.”

We had that conversation with Kenji López-Alt back in July. And we caught up with him again a few weeks ago, for an update.

DUBNER: So first of all, I’m just curious: how is life?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Life is great now. At home I found a much better balance between restaurant and home life after that sort of craziness of opening. We’ve hired some more people in to help fill some management voids in the restaurant, which means that I get to spend a lot more time with my daughter and working on my other projects without having to freak out about what’s going on at the restaurant.

DUBNER: Did your marriage recover from the stress of opening?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Yeah it’s definitely in much better shape. And I have a much better understanding of what it means to overcommit myself to things. Yes, everything on that front is going much better.

DUBNER: Okay, and then importantly: how’s Wursthall going?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Wursthall is going well. I think the last time we talked, we were in this position where it was having a little bit of an identity crisis, because we had planned for it one way at the beginning, and then people were coming and expecting something different, and so we’ve been slowly trying to push it in that direction. And we’ll have completely transitioned our menu into a more sit-down experience, fork-and-knife, all that. But things are going well. We’ve never had trouble getting people in the door. We’ve never had trouble with revenue per se — the trouble has always been with profit. Maybe that’s true with most businesses. So, that’s been our concern for the last six months or so: all right, we’re making this money, we get people in the door — how do we actually turn that into profit so that we can actually start breaking even and making money and paying back our investors and all that?

DUBNER: So a lot of economists would say, “Well, the first and probably second and third and fourth steps toward bridging the revenue-profit gap would be very, very, very, very, simple, especially since you said that the demand is really strong. Right? You’re not having any trouble filling it, just raise prices.” So why not do that?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Well part of it is our goal is to make sure that families and neighborhood people can come in and feel good about coming in. And as it is right now, I would say among our top three complaints is price already, so part of our goal especially with these new menu changes, is how do we give people an experience that they are willing to pay a little bit more for that they still see value in? And, originally with the menu the problem was everything came on a bun. And there is a limit to what people will pay for a sandwich and what people feel comfortable paying for a sandwich. Despite the quality of the ingredients inside, despite the amount of labor that goes into all that, there’s a certain amount you can charge for a sandwich and people will not pay any more. That’s not the case with fork-and-knife plates. People see more value in a fork-and-knife plate. We do this chicken schnitzel sandwich. We could just take off the bun and serve the exact same plate and charge $4 more for it, and people wouldn’t bat an eye.

The restaurant’s original concept, you’ll recall, was German-beer-hall-goes-to-California.

LÓPEZ-ALT: It’s still a California beer hall. We still have sausages and German-themed things.

But customers who were fans of Kenji López-Alt’s food writing were expecting a menu that was more Kenji-fied. And so it has become more Kenji-fied. They’re serving a cacio e pepe …

LÓPEZ-ALT: It’s like a quick Roman version of macaroni and cheese.

But with Germanic noodles rather than Italian.

LÓPEZ-ALT: So it’s our house spaetzle that we pan fry in brown butter, which is the traditional way to do spaetzle.

Also: smash-burgers and Korean-style fried chicken.

LÓPEZ-ALT: It’s something we resisted at the beginning: should we do a burger? People know me for the burger, but do we need another place that serves a burger? And then we just decided, “Yeah, people want a burger. It’s good. People are going to order it, let’s just do it.” That and the fried chicken are probably our two top sellers. Once we got past that mental hurdle of being like, we don’t have to be strictly German, it was a pretty easy call at that point. Like, fried chicken and burgers — people love making them, they’re easy to prep, and they’ll help with this profit problem because both of them are high-profit dishes, compared to sausage, which are among are lowest-profit dishes because they take so much more work.

DUBNER: So you mentioned that one of the biggest problems is just personnel and turnover, both in the kitchen and front of the house, and I’m just curious to hear how you’re doing on that front with retention.

LÓPEZ-ALT: We have a number of people have been around since the very beginning. There was a bit of turnover when we changed executive chefs. I recently hired a new executive chef, and so when that management change happened, there was turnover. But we were expecting it because people are loyal to their bosses. But things seem to be settling down again.

DUBNER: Why did you need a new one?

LÓPEZ-ALT: It’s not that our previous chef was bad at his job. It’s just that the needs that we had in terms of efficiency and really managing the volume that we were doing was just something that he didn’t have experience at. Oh, one thing I should mention that actually really helped with our staff morale when these changes were happening is that we hired a translator, which I think is good advice for any business that has a lot of employees that aren’t very fluent in English. So we hired someone to come in for an entire day and we scheduled every Spanish-speaking employee to come in and sit down.

DUBNER: So it was really about communication to understand the flow of work and so on?

LOPEZ-ALT: No, it was less about the flow of work and more about the management change, the new chef, and the transition in menu. But a lot of it is also to get their feedback and to find out what they needed from us in order to be happy in their work.

DUBNER: Okay, really important question: how are the toilets holding up now?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Toilet situation’s fine. We put in the money to do the big fix, and it’s all it’s all fine.

DUBNER: So I understand that you’ve also, in the midst of all this, put yourself and the restaurant in the middle of a MAGA controversy. You tweeted, in response to public events in D.C., you tweeted, “It hasn’t happened yet, but if you come to my restaurant wearing a MAGA cap, you aren’t getting served. Same as if you come in wearing a swastika, white hood, or any other symbol of intolerance and hate.” So, that’s what you tweeted. What happened next?

LÓPEZ-ALT: What happened next was — well, nothing for a few days and then it got picked up by some newspapers and then went around national news. And that’s when trouble happened. It was a mistake on a number of fronts for me to say that. The first one and the one that I was really concerned about was, it was a mistake the way I treated my staff and my partners, because that’s my personal Twitter account. It was something I said off the cuff and I never talked to my partners about it. And I realized afterwards that I just put my partners and especially my staff in a really tough position. Because now there’s all this anger being directed at them, and they had nothing to do with it. It was just me shooting off my mouth.

The other thing I want to say is that people very fairly read that as an attack on individuals, and as an attack on themselves after reading it, an attack on Republicans. And I can understand why it was read that way. And all I can say is that in my head it was really not about individuals. It is about the symbol, the symbol of the hat. I very admittedly live in a liberal bubble, I live in the Bay Area. I obviously I get exposed to a lot of people from around the country, including my family. And if you go just outside the Bay Area, of course there’s lots of right-wing people, lots of Republicans. And I get along fine with everyone. But, when you see that hat at rallies where there’s hateful things being said, or you see that hat being worn by people who are doing hateful things, it comes on to take a specific meaning that makes me uncomfortable. I guess my big regret as it came out in the way that closed down discussion as opposed to opening discussion.

DUBNER: You said it caused a lot of anger. Were people in your restaurant, whether partners or employees, were they angry because it endangered their livelihood, or were they angry on a level beyond that?

LÓPEZ-ALT: To be honest I don’t really want to talk about my partners or my staff — I don’t want to bring any of that up again, because I’ve already put them in an uncomfortable position. It’s been tough. I’ve been realizing that I’m in this position where I want to have my cake and eat it too. I’m a normal guy. I feel just like any other schlub on the Internet. I spend my days doing normal-people things, puttering around the house and fixing things and repairing the furnace. And I’ll just talk the way I talk on the Internet. But then, especially in the last couple of years, I have this platform and it’s my responsibility to use it. And that’s an impulse control thing, and that’s something my wife tells me all the time, like, “You can’t do this, because whether you want it or not, you’re well-known and you can’t just talk like this, because it’s going to get us in trouble. It’s not just about getting you in trouble, it’s going to get our family in trouble.” It is something that I very consciously have been thinking about. This year, I made a New Year’s resolution that if I make any kind of political comments, that I won’t respond back to commenters.

DUBNER: How are you doing with that resolution?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Good. Actually, I’m pretty much zero in terms of responding back. I also promised I wouldn’t make any more ad hominem attacks on social media, which, the one time I broke that was when I made an ad hominem attack against everybody who wears a MAGA hat, and that got me into trouble.

Soon enough, López-Alt will be taking a break from America and its politics.

LÓPEZ-ALT: I’m actually planning with my wife and my daughter — we’re going to be taking three months in Colombia. The idea is researching a book on Colombian cuisine, written for an American audience, which doesn’t really exist right now.

DUBNER: And where does your passion for that cuisine come from?

LÓPEZ-ALT: Well my wife is Colombian, and we spend a lot of time down there and it’s a huge country, hugely varied in terms of geography and culture and cuisine — there’s the Andes, there’s coastal regions, there’s plains, there’s rainforest, there’s deserts — with widely varied cuisine as well, that I think is under-represented and I feel like I have a good inside track on that.

DUBNER: What happens if or when the next time you open a restaurant — how do you come into it thinking differently, knowing now what you know?

LÓPEZ-ALT: I take less on myself. I delegate more. I think I spend more time figuring out the personnel issue as opposed to the fun-concept issue and figure out how do we make this happen where I don’t have to upturn my life and give up everything else to do it. And if I can’t do it, then that just means I won’t do it. I’ve come to this place where — when the first restaurant — when the opportunity came to me it was like, I don’t want to die thinking, “What if? This is an opportunity to do something I’ve always thought about doing, it wasn’t a lifelong dream, but I’ve thought about doing it, I should do it.” And at this point, you know what? I don’t need to do it again. If the opportunity comes up and I can find a way to ensure that I don’t have to upend my life again to do it, then I would. But I’m perfectly content saying no.

Freakonomics Radio is produced by Stitcher and Dubner Productions. This episode was produced by Harry Huggins. Our staff also includes Alison Craiglow, Greg Rosalsky, Greg Rippin, Alvin Melathe, Zack Lapinski, and Corinne Wallace. Our theme song is “Mr. Fortune,” by the Hitchhikers; all the other music was composed by Luis Guerra. You can subscribe to Freakonomics Radio on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Here’s where you can learn more about the people and ideas in this episode:

SOURCES

J. Kenji López-Alt, chef, restauranteur, and food writer.

RESOURCES

The Food Lab by James Kenji López-Alt (W. W. Norton & Company 2015).

EXTRA

Wursthall, 310 Baldwin Ave, San Mateo, CA 94401.

“Food + Science = Victory!” (Freakonomics Radio, Nov. 5, 2015).

The post Why You Shouldn’t Open a Restaurant (Ep. 347 Update) appeared first on Freakonomics.

from Dental Care Tips http://freakonomics.com/podcast/kenji-update/

[grimwarden]

obsessed with the way these two unsheathe for a fight

[jeroldlockettus]

Why You Shouldn’t Open a Restaurant (Ep. 347)

The all-star food writer Kenji Lopez-Alt decided to open his own restaurant. Then came kitchen snafus, disastrously clogged toilets, and long days away from his young daughter. (Photo: Max Pixel)

Our latest Freakonomics Radio episode is called “Why You Shouldn’t Open a Restaurant.” (You can subscribe to the podcast at Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, or elsewhere, get the RSS feed, or listen via the media player above.)

Kenji Lopez-Alt became a rock star of the food world by bringing science into the kitchen in a way that everyday cooks can appreciate. Then he dared to start his own restaurant — and discovered problems that even science can’t solve.

Below is a transcript of the episode, modified for your reading pleasure. For more information on the people and ideas in the episode, see the links at the bottom of this post.

*      *      *

Some people just can’t leave well enough alone. Consider, for instance, the case of the famous food writer, the one who used the scientific method to take apart everything we know about cooking and put it back together.

Kenji LÓPEZ-ALT: If you use vodka in place of some of the water in your pie crust, you end up with a dough that is much flakier and much lighter.

He investigated whether the key ingredient in New York pizza really is the water.

LÓPEZ-ALT: So I did a full double-blind experiment where I got water — starting with perfectly distilled water and up to various levels of dissolved solids inside the water. And what we basically ended up finding was the water makes almost no difference compared to other variables in the dough.

He found that the secret to General Tso’s chicken lay in geometry.

LÓPEZ-ALT: The geometry of food is important because one of the big things is surface-area-to-volume ratio.

And he explored the relationship between meat and salt; he proved why it’s important to salt a hamburger at the last minute, on the surface of the meat:

LOPEZ-ALT: We rented a baseball pitching machine that would throw hamburgers at the wall at 45 miles per hour. You’ll see that salted hamburger kind of bounces off the wall like a rubber ball, whereas the burger that has salt only on the outside kind of splatters.

This was the man who finally brought science into the kitchen in a way that non-scientists could appreciate. It helped that his work was fun, not preachy, and delicious. We interviewed him a while back, for an episode called “Food + Science = Victory!”

LÓPEZ-ALT: I think a lot of people think of science as sort of the opposite of tradition or the opposite of natural. And really it’s not.

He had just published his first cookbook, a massive thing called The Food Lab, which went on to win a James Beard Award. His reputation and reach only grew. But then, something else beckoned. Was it opportunity — or a trap?

LOPEZ-ALT: It’s that temptation you can’t resist.

Today on Freakonomics Radio: the food writer who flew too close to the flame.

LOPEZ-ALT: My name is James Kenji Lopez-Alt. I am a food writer who also happens to run a restaurant right now.

And everything’s been going just great, hasn’t it?

LOPEZ-ALT: “These problems are insurmountable, like how the f— are we going to fix this?”

*      *      *

Kenji Lopez-Alt grew up in New York, in a family of scientists, and went off to M.I.T. to study biology. He got a little bored, maybe burnt-out, and during the summers started working in restaurant kitchens in Boston. After college, he worked in an architecture firm for a bit.

LOPEZ-ALT: For a few months, half a year maybe.

And then back to restaurant kitchens.

LOPEZ-ALT: My very first restaurant job was at a place called Fire and Ice. It’s a Mongolian grill, so I was a knight of the round grill. I stood in the middle of a giant cast iron grill and cooked stir-fried food for people, and flipped asparagus tips into the air and stuff.

Over the next several years, he worked in a series of higher-end restaurants in Boston.

LOPEZ-ALT: After that, that was the end of my culinary career, or my cooking career.

He began building a career as a food writer, at Cook’s Illustrated and America’s Test Kitchen. Then, on the food site Serious Eats, he started a column called The Food Lab. He wasn’t expecting to turn into a food-writing rock star.

LOPEZ-ALT: I absolutely wasn’t expecting it. I was a freelance writer living in a one-bedroom apartment with no windows in Brooklyn at the time.

DUBNER: Now, after doing all that and having that platform and enjoying it, what made you think it was a good idea to not only get back into the restaurant business, but open your own restaurant?

LOPEZ-ALT: It’s always that temptation you can’t resist. It’s like, “Oh, what if I just went back and do cooking for a little while? Would I be able to do this?” So, I had a daughter. She’s 17 months old now.

DUBNER: Congratulations.

LOPEZ-ALT: Thank you. And when she was born, my wife and I decided that she would continue to work, and I would be the at-home parent. So I’ve been a stay-at-home dad for the last 17 months. And about six months into that, I was approached by some friends of friends who owned a bar in San Mateo, near where we live. And they were interested in opening up a beer hall and they were looking for a chef partner. And so I thought this might be something fun I could do in my spare time. Which, you don’t have too much spare time with a baby on your hands, but I thought this could be something fun and this is a good opportunity, relatively low-risk. Mainly it was because my wife and I sort of longed for a place like this in San Mateo, a family-friendly, casual, upscale place. And that was the concept that they were working on. So it seemed perfect for me.

And initially I thought my involvement would be relatively minimal. I would work on some menus. I would lend my name to the menu. What was actually really surprising to me was — when I first signed on with them, I sent a short little tweet saying, “Hey, this is happening, I’m opening a restaurant,” something like that. Eater picked it up. A bunch of other publications picked it up. And then all of a sudden it became not, “Kenji Lopez-Alt is partnering with these two guys who are opening a restaurant.” What it became was, “Kenji Lopez-Alt is opening a restaurant.” And then I was like, “Oh man, I guess I’m really going to get sucked into this.”

DUBNER: Okay, so the restaurant is called Wursthall. So, first of all, for those who haven’t been to San Mateo, California, just give us a quick sense of the vibe of the place, and then we’ll get into the restaurant and why the choices were made to have a German beer hall with sausages.

LOPEZ-ALT: Well, San Mateo is a city that’s basically dead center between San Francisco and Silicon Valley. My wife works at Google and she works down in Silicon Valley. We initially moved up into the city and her commute was crazy. So we’re like, “All right we’ll move down to San Mateo.” And if you look at the real estate curve: very expensive everywhere, but extremely expensive in San Francisco, extremely expensive in Silicon Valley. And in San Mateo and a couple of the surrounding cities, there’s a small dip, so we were like, “Alright, that’s where we can afford to live.” And that’s where my wife’s commute will be all right. I think there’s actually a lot of people in our situation there right now.

DUBNER: Why a German beer hall — why was that the right concept? Or why was that the concept they wanted?

LOPEZ-ALT: Well, it’s two factors. One of them is the space itself. We’re located in a really nice, old, historic building, lots of nice light, so it seemed very conducive to this beer-hall atmosphere. The other thing is that my partner Adam Simpson, he is really into beer. And finally, beer halls are kind of just popular right now. So it seemed like a concept that worked in the space, that worked with Adam’s knowledge-base, and it seemed to be something that was hot and lacking in the San Mateo area.

So far so good, right? So for everyone out there who’s thinking, “Hey, maybe I should open a restaurant” — we asked Kenji Lopez-Alt: “what’s the first step?”

LOPEZ-ALT: So, the first step to opening a restaurant is, don’t. Opening a restaurant is a series of putting out fires every single day. I mean, even once you’re open, it’s still a series of putting out fires. Step one: don’t.

DUBNER: Okay. So, can you walk us through the opening process? What kind of work goes into those preparatory weeks, months, I assume?

LOPEZ-ALT: So, the first step is, you have to have a reason for people to believe that you’re going to succeed and to give you money to do it. Because it’s not cheap to open a restaurant. And then from there it’s working with the architects and designers and doing all the build-out, which inevitably takes way more time than you expect. And for us we had this extra problem, because we’re in this really old building and the previous tenants and the landlord, they didn’t take the best care of the space.

But working back from my side, from the kitchen perspective: initially a lot of it was conceptualizing how German do we want to be? How California do we want to be? Because we knew we wanted to do both. Figuring out what the service style was going to be, and how customers are going to order. And really thinking to ourselves, “Alright, when people come in here, what are they coming in to do?” Initially, when Adam and my other partner, Tyson Mao — when they were thinking of a beer hall, they thought, “Right, this is going to be essentially a bar. Some people maybe come to have a nice meal, but most will be coming to drink and have some food on the side.” And that’s what the initial menu is designed around: a selection of sausages, a couple of sandwiches, some appetizers to share.

So now he got to work creating a menu.

LOPEZ-ALT: I had developed the initial opening menu on my own in my home kitchen before we had even hired any sort of kitchen staff. And I’m pretty methodical, so I had a recipe booklet written out, everything done in metric units, something that anybody could look at and replicate. Part of the idea was because it’s going to be relatively low-priced and high-volume, the kitchen has to be able to run itself, even without very minute oversight.

DUBNER: What about the sausage-making itself? That’s a big component. Can you just talk about how involved you were in the design and execution, and maybe experimentation, and figuring out how to not only make the sausages that you wanted, but how they were going to be prepared?

LOPEZ-ALT: Yeah, from the start, we knew that we weren’t going to be able to make the sausages in-house, because we didn’t have the facilities. So in order to make a large volume of sausage, you need to have a dedicated refrigerated room, where you can grind and mix and stuff and everything, because if sausage mixture gets too warm while you’re forming it, it doesn’t bind properly, and your sausages end up crumbly and dry. It was literally physically impossible for us to make sausages in-house. So very early on we decided, “All right, we’re going to have to find some partners to work with who can execute our ideas at a level of quality and volume that we’re happy with.”

DUBNER: Is it an easy thing to find, someone who can handle that kind of quality and especially volume?

LOPEZ-ALT: No. I mean the sausage part was mainly me going to every single sausage maker I could find in the Bay Area. We did want to keep it local. We visited many, many butchers and sausage makers, and there are many, many bad sausages around. Sausage-making is a non-trivial skill. You think, “Okay it’s just meat and fat, spiced, ground up, stuffed into a casing. How hard could it be?” But it’s one of these things where the minutiae of the technique can make a huge difference in the quality of the final product. It mainly comes down to the binding element, making sure that you have the right level of salt, and that the meat has been salted long enough that the proteins start to dissolve before you mix it. Making sure that you mix it right, and that you have the right ratio of fat to lean. And then also making sure that it stays chilled through the entire process.

And if any one of those things is off, your sausage doesn’t bind properly. And that’s what you find is the problem with most mediocre sausages. They could be flavored very well, they could be crazy and interesting, but if they’re not mixed properly they crumble instead of having that nice, juicy, snappy texture that I look for in a sausage. And so finding someone who can do that was hard.

There was also the consideration of creating a sausage restaurant that could be vegan-friendly.

LOPEZ-ALT: So one of my goals from the beginning was: vegan items on the menu that aren’t vegan by omission, they’re just vegan by default, and they’re delicious. So we have a number of things like that, but the one that I was really excited about is a vegan doner kebab. And for that I worked with a company called Impossible Meats, they make a vegan ground-meat blend mostly out of wheat protein, but they add heme, which is a lot of what gives red meat its irony, bloody flavor. But it can also be derived from plant sources. It’s by far the best faux meat available. And so what we do is we spice it with Turkish spices — so cumin, urfa biber chilies, sumac.

And then we serve it as a — well, initially we were reforming it into a cylinder and doing it in front of one of those doner kebab spits that spins around, and you shave it off. But the fat in this stuff is coconut oil, and coconut oil melts at a slightly lower temperature than animal fat does, so the fat would end up melting out of it, and it would eventually just crumble off the spit. So that didn’t end up working. It would’ve been so cool if we could get that to work. Now we’re just forming it straight into hamburger-style patties, so all the flavor is there.

DUBNER: Okay, so you talked about the food and the building, etc. What about the people? How involved were you in hiring and training up the kitchen and front of house?

LOPEZ-ALT: I was very involved in back of the house, and finding good people is by far the hardest thing. So, when you’re living in a place like New York or San Francisco, where the cost of living is so high, finding great people is very hard. Even finding remotely reliable people. Even before we opened, when we were training staff, we must have lost probably 50 percent over the course of a few weeks.

DUBNER: Wow.

LOPEZ-ALT: Which is not abnormal. One day we’re there and two of our cooks don’t show up. What do we do? One of them was on a bender and the other one was just a no-show. But then, luckily, the restaurant down the street, all the cooks there showed up that morning and the manager said, “We’re closing, and you don’t have a job anymore.” So, suddenly we had 12 cooks just walk up to the front door saying, “Hey, can we have a job?” So there’s never really a shortage of résumés and applicants, it’s finding reliable people that’s hard. What I’ve discovered in my years as a cook — and it played out exactly as expected here — was that it’s much better to hire people who give a s—, even if they have no previous experience or skills, than to hire someone who has a great résumé who doesn’t really understand the concept.

Our No. 1 kitchen hire is this guy Erik Drobey, who is a career changer, he was in his 40s, he worked in an office job, always loved cooking on the side, was a Food Lab follower. He stopped by my house once to give me some sausages and sauerkraut he made because he was so proud of them. And they were great, I thought they were great. And then he said, “Hey, I think I’ve decided I want to be a cook. Would you give me a shot?” I’m like, “Absolutely.” Finding people who really care. That’s the key. Because you can always teach people skills, but you can’t teach people to give a s—.

DUBNER: And what about front of the house?

LOPEZ-ALT: Front of the house is actually probably even a little bit harder at the start, because you have to really dangle this carrot in front of them because during training and during the first month that we were doing friends and family meals, people are working and they’re getting paid, but they’re not getting the same tips that they would. And so they have to realize, “Okay, I’m putting in this work now. So in a month I’ll be making much more money.” But it’s hard to find people who are willing to think about that.

DUBNER: So shortly before opening, you tweeted — in all caps, by the way — “Opening a restaurant is insane. And I don’t know why anyone in their right mind would choose to do it.” So what’s going on in the weeks and days just before opening?

LOPEZ-ALT: I can tell you what was in my head when that tweet went out. It was not actually related directly to the restaurant itself, it was more about its toll on my personal life, and particularly my family life and my marriage, because a restaurant is a harsh mistress. During those three months I was in there, I would wake up, take my daughter to daycare, go to the restaurant from 9:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m., go pick up my daughter from daycare, bring her home, put her to bed, and then go back to the restaurant from 8:00 p.m. until 1:00 a.m. It had been two-and-a-half months where I had been basically never at home. I saw my daughter for a few hours a day, but I basically never saw my wife. We lost the chance to sit down and talk together. The only time I ever saw her was when we were with our daughter, so we never really had any alone time, which is very difficult when you’re raising a child, to not be able to talk to your partner, not even have the time to talk about things related to raising the child. And the worst part of it was that no matter how well you plan, and you think to yourself, “Right, this is the amount of work I’m going to have to put into this restaurant, and I’m just going to say no after that,” it’s really hard to say no when there’s 40 people whose jobs rely on you making this a success.

Finally, Wursthall was ready for its soft opening — investors, friends and family.

LOPEZ-ALT: About 100 people, and everything was great. We had completely gutted the old bathrooms, retiled them in this beautiful blue tile, really nice wallpaper with these hand pen-and-ink-drawn animals and stuff. It was a really nice bathroom. And the first night we had 100 people in, the toilets backed up, stopped working. And we had to shut down the bathrooms. And as it turns out, the waste line leaving one of the toilets had never been repaired or replaced in probably decades and decades and had a huge sag in it. So we had to close for two weeks so that they can rip out all the tile we just put in, dig into the foundation, replace that. All of a sudden, we thought we were going to be ready to open the next week and now it’s like another two weeks and another 30 grand to fix the bathroom that we had never even considered might be a problem.

*      *      *

Kenji Lopez-Alt, rock star of the food-writing world, decided after years on the sidelines to get back into the restaurant business with a place called Wursthall, in San Mateo, California, which started out as a simple concept: a German beer hall serving nouveau-ish sausages.

LOPEZ-ALT: I was always one of these “I’d rather have influence and bring joy to people than have a lot of money” type-of-career people, you know? And if the money comes along with it, then that’s great as well. But I’d rather just be doing something I love.

DUBNER: Okay, so walk us through opening night, and I’m sure everything went exactly as it was planned, and everybody was thrilled, and it was perfect. Yes?

LOPEZ-ALT: Well, we had a sizable number of people in there and we were cooking food, people were ordering food, tickets were coming in, we were firing it. It was a disaster. Major, major disaster. Some people were waiting over an hour for their food. Some people never got their food. It’s the kind of night where we’re like, “These problems are insurmountable, how the f— are we going to fix this?” But we decided, “All right, we’ll focus on a couple of the big problems first.” When I tell them to you, they’re going to seem like stupid, small things. It’s like, “Well, why couldn’t you just do that?”

So, one of them was that we have sausages and you get your choice of topping. One of the problems was communicating to the cooks on the line. In case you’re not aware of how restaurant kitchens work, there’s a line, which is where all the stoves are, where the counters with the little cutting boards are, it’s where the cooks, the guys and girls are actually making the food. And then there’s a station called “expo,” the expediter, and the expediter’s job is to first of all act as a liaison between the front of the house and the back of the house. But, more importantly, the expediter’s job is to coordinate everybody in the back of the house so that dishes come out at the same time, so that everyone in the back of the house knows what they’re doing. So, essentially, they’re the general managing the army back there.

On opening night, we had all the toppings back on the line, and I was expediting, and I was just calling out, saying, “All right, hot Italian with speck and cherry-pepper relish. One bratwurst with sauerkraut.” And it’s a lot of information to take in when you have a full restaurant, there’s 100 people there, and you’re cooking say, 25, 30 sausages at a time, and each one has their own designated topping. It’s a lot of information for the person on the line actually cooking it and plating it to take in. And so every single sausage had this huge delay, where they maybe go out with the wrong topping on it and we’d have to re-fire it, or they would yell out and everything is really noisy, and we can’t hear each other.

And once you have these tiny little problems, that can lead to huge, huge backups, because the customers — they don’t care what problems you have back there. Once they’re seated, they want to start ordering food. And they don’t care that you already have a full board of tickets and that the grill is completely full. They don’t care that you screwed up one order and you have to re-fire it. Those tickets are just going to keep coming and coming and coming. So you have the ticket printer machine that’s spitting out these tickets constantly, and you’re constantly struggling to try and catch up with it. And that puts more and more stress on you. So you make more mistakes, the people on the line make more mistakes. And it can be these tiny little things that add to the likelihood of making a mistake that can throw a wrench in the entire operation, and that’s essentially what happened that first night.

So, the second night, what we did was we took those toppings, we took them off the line, and put them next to the expediter’s station, next to my station, so that all they had to remember was which sausages they were cooking. They would pass the sausages to me, right before I handed it to the server, I would put the topping on. I had the ticket right in front of me, it was easy for me to read it. And that smoothed things over unbelievably so. A couple of seconds of extra work on the cook’s part, it translated from a sausage taking over an hour to get to a customer, because there was this huge backlog of tickets, to customers getting their sausages in about eight minutes.

There was another major problem they discovered only on opening night.

LOPEZ-ALT: And it’s one that we didn’t resolve until relatively recently.

It had to do with the pretzels.

LOPEZ-ALT: So, I’m also partner at a bakery called Backhaus and they make all of our pretzels and all of our bread. Really wonderful pretzels, but we serve them hot. So we were trying to figure out, “How do we get these pretzels that were baked that morning and delivered to us, how do we serve them hot and fresh?” And the obvious thing is, “All right, well, when someone orders a pretzel, put it in the oven, let it get hot, and then we serve it.”

This was a problem in a couple different ways: one of them was that Backhaus, they were salting their pretzels before they came to us. And what happens with pretzel salt is that it draws out moisture from the pretzels, so after eight hours or so, some of the moisture from the pretzels beads up on the surface of the pretzels and then it leaves kind of a splotchy wet marks, which is not good, and the salt is all gone. So we’re like, “Okay, so we have to salt our pretzels,” so that’s adding another layer of stuff we have to do. And the only oven that we have back on the line is next to the fry station, and the fryer is extremely busy with potatoes and we also do a chicken schnitzel sandwich. Adding pretzels on top of that to him became very difficult. So, for the early nights, we were firing pretzels to-order in the oven. And that was another one of those things that seemed like it’s a thing that takes two seconds, but it just piled onto the likelihood that we were going to screw something up.

So what was the pretzel-salting solution?

LOPEZ-ALT: Well, we found a much more efficient way of salting them. So, one of the cooks had this idea to take a squeeze bottle, cut off the top until it was big enough that pretzel salt could flow through it. Now what we do is we just spray the pretzels and draw a line, trace the outline with the squeeze bottle, and that clears up all the space.

DUBNER: So what you just described, plainly these are things that most people eating at restaurants would never ever think about.

LOPEZ-ALT: And they shouldn’t have to think about it.

DUBNER: But you have to think about it. But, as you’re describing it, it strikes me that you being who you are, and the way that you like to work, and the way that you do take an empirical and scientific approach to food and cooking and so on, that you were driven to solve these problems and get it right. Is that often the difference between a restaurant that works and one that doesn’t, which is that you have to be driven to constantly adjust, solve problems like that, that are going to come up? Do most restaurants really try as hard as you just described?

LOPEZ-ALT: Most restaurants really try as hard. Any good chef cares deeply about the quality, and any good restaurant owner cares deeply about the quality of what they’re putting out. So I don’t think I’m unique in that regard at all. Me and my partners, Tyson and Adam, we have a lot of sit-down meetings where we analyze problems and try and solve them. So, maybe we do that a little bit more than other restaurants, but that’s my skill. I’ve worked for chefs that seem to have an innate skill to just be able to figure things out on the fly, or be able to work harder and faster to be able to solve those problems. People will attack those problems in different ways. But any good restaurant owner is going to recognize those problems and try and solve it in their own way.

DUBNER: I’m curious how much you pay attention to reviews of any sort. If you had opened a restaurant 10, certainly 20 years ago, there’s so much less feedback then, and now, some people feel swamped by it. Some people feel a lot of it is disingenuous. I know you said in the past that Yelp, in fact, this is from a tweet of yours: “Yelp is and has always been the worst place to look for decent reviews. Shady business practices, reviews by people who I know nothing about and have no reason to trust their opinion, even on the off chance they actually dined at the restaurant you’re rating.” So talk about that for a minute, your experience with Yelp and/or other online reviews.

LOPEZ-ALT: So, it’s difficult to gain value from them for me.

DUBNER: You mean as a consumer or a producer?

LOPEZ-ALT: As a consumer. To some degree, as a producer there is a little bit of value to it. But, especially if you start looking at trends and see, all right, people that are complaining, what are they complaining about? At the beginning when we opened, it was service. And that was some very legitimate feedback on that.

DUBNER: You didn’t need online reviews to know that was a problem, I gather, right?

LOPEZ-ALT: There’s very little that I’ve read, I’ve seen in Yelp, that we didn’t already realize was a problem. As a consumer of Yelp, I find Yelp useful as a map of what restaurants are around, but it’s hard to trust opinions. A very good professional review, you don’t necessarily have to agree with the reviewer’s point of view on what is good and what’s not, but if you have an idea of what they think is good, then they tell you whether this restaurant met those expectations, and then you can sort of gauge, “All right, well, do I agree with whether that’s good or not?” And that’s what a good restaurant review will do. Whereas on Yelp, it’s like someone, BasicUser12345, says “this restaurant was terrible, the potatoes sucked.” Well, I don’t know what you define as good potatoes, so how is that helpful to me?

DUBNER: But the problem is that everybody eats, right? So everybody considers themself a legitimate critic, which, you can’t totally discount that fact, can you?

LOPEZ-ALT: No, no you can’t. But at the end of the day, I’m involved in this project because I want to be, I want to have my name on it. I want to be proud of what we’re putting out. At some point you just have to stick to your guns and say, “This is what I believe is good. And I’m not going to change that just because some people say they disagree that it’s good.” And if your idea of what is good is so far off from what most people think is good, then maybe you’re in trouble and you’re going to go out of business. But I’m of the mind that I’d rather lose a little business and stick to what I believe is true than to just pander to everybody to try and make the most money, which is hard to explain to partners and investors. But at the end of the day, as a food writer, I think I do have a pretty good pulse of what people think is good.

DUBNER: Right. So overall on Yelp, Wursthall is doing pretty well. Averaging about three-and-a-half out of five stars. So let me read you one Yelp review and hear your response.

LOPEZ-ALT: Ok, I honestly haven’t looked at Yelp reviews since, like, the second month after we opened, so we’ll see, all right.

DUBNER: This is from just over a month ago. This is from Andrew R. He writes, “I was really disappointed. I expected more. Not that I had high expectations. They were modest, honestly. But it fell below that bar as well. For one, the service was not that great. For two, the food just isn’t that good. It’s okay. Like, you would eat it if you were hungry. But another sausage would probably satisfy you more. And I like a split-top bun because you can grill both sides like they do here. But when it’s split only halfway down there’s a lot of bread with no meat at the bottom. And that’s terrible. Cut that bun all the way down. It’ll be better. Trust me.” So, that’s Andrew R. What does Kenji L. say?

LOPEZ-ALT: Well, I’ll start from the end of it and work back. Believe it or not, we tested how far to cut the bun extensively before opening. And trust me when I say it’s not better to cut it too far, because the buns end up falling apart. It doesn’t stand right. That sounds all fair, I mean those seem like legitimate concerns. If I was at the restaurant, I would definitely love to talk to him and get a little more details about exactly what they were disappointed with. What is it about the sausage that you didn’t like? And to his point about sausages being not great: I fully admit sometimes, like any restaurant or any business, we have consistency issues now and then, and we work our best to make sure that those don’t happen. And every day gets better.

DUBNER: Here’s a professional review, this is Peter Lawrence Kane on SF Weekly. He writes, “The quality of the food is high, and it is consistent. The thing is, considering Lopez-Alt’s eminently well-deserved reputation for being a demystifier of culinary techniques, Wursthall falls a little short of the gosh-wow factor longtime fans might clamor for. Maybe that’s not entirely fair. After all, it’s exactly what it claims to be.” What’s your take on that, Kenji?

LOPEZ-ALT: So, I fully agree with that. This is again one of those things where it’s like what happened to the restaurant between the initial concept and between what customers expect. And, the initial concept was, “All right, we’re going to serve some damn good sausages. We’re going to make our own sauerkraut. It’s going to be good sauerkraut, but it’s still sausages and sauerkraut.” And there’s only so far that can go, as far as gosh-darn-wow factor. This is one of those things where the concept of the restaurant on paper turned out very different from what the restaurant is now. Once my name got attached to it and started bringing the media attention to it, it turns out people are coming there for dinner. They’re not coming there to drink. So, we started as a beer hall, but we’re not really a beer hall anymore. We’re a restaurant. And so that’s been one of the challenges since opening, coming to terms with that and realizing, “You know what? Some of the stuff we initially thought isn’t going to work, because customers are coming in with different expectations.” Any restaurant takes a while to find its legs. I think for us maybe it’s taking a little bit longer just because it was such a big shift from what we had initially planned compared to what customers perceive.

DUBNER: I see that — maybe yesterday, or within the last little while, you tweeted — a new menu item that’s starting soon. Maybe maybe it’s already started by now.

LOPEZ-ALT: Starting today. I was at the restaurant all morning training the staff and making making sure the cooks knew how it worked.

DUBNER: So, this is tomato mayo toast with grilled corn vinaigrette and a corn soup, paprika oil and shishito peppers. Yeah, so that’s not what I think of as beer-hall food. Was it the clientele who drove it primarily? In other words, were people confused when they came originally because they know your name and they think it was going to be more of a sit-down, knife-and-fork situation?

LOPEZ-ALT: I think that’s part of it. I definitely saw comments saying, like, “I expected the menu to be a little more Kenji than what it is.” Because it’s sausages, and I don’t write that much about sausages. I don’t eat that many sausages. I like them. And we cook them well, but it doesn’t exactly scream “Kenji” or “Food Lab” or whatever. So, yes, part of this revamping process has been, “How do we make this menu more me?”

DUBNER: So from what I’ve read, you own 12 percent of the restaurant and 20 percent of anything else with these partners?

LOPEZ-ALT: IThat’s ballpark correct.

DUBNER: Would you have had the same share of ownership had you just acted as a sort of consulting-founding chef, as opposed to roll up your sleeves fully involved?

LOPEZ-ALT: No. My partners are actually very understanding of the entire situation and the fact that I’ve now got more involved than I was planning on. Initially it was it was going to be basically just a fee plus a smaller percentage ownership.

DUBNER: The big question I have then really is, so far, do you feel overall that it’s worth it? Another way of putting that is, if I came to you tomorrow, Kenji, with an idea that you liked, an idea for a restaurant, maybe a site for a restaurant, and a potentially worthwhile partnership, what do you do? Do you succumb? Or do you refrain this time?

LOPEZ-ALT: I would say the restaurant on its own, in a bubble, detached from every other part of my life, was absolutely worth it. I don’t mind putting in hours and hours and hours of work even for little to no — I haven’t made any money off this restaurant yet, and I don’t plan on making any money for a while, until we pay off our investors. But we don’t live in a vacuum. So if someone came to me right now and asked me if I want to do this restaurant again, I would probably say no. Only because it cost me three months of being with my daughter. And that was a price that I wasn’t expecting to have to pay at the beginning, and one that made me deeply sad as it was happening, and also in retrospect. I don’t regret anything I did with the restaurant. I do regret how it affected my personal life and my family. But we learned those lessons.

DUBNER: Okay, final question. Let’s say that — maybe this is when your daughter is in school, when your daughter is in college even — but let’s say I come to you and I want you to work with me to open a new restaurant. What is the dream concept? Whether it’s cuisine or style or location. What is the restaurant that you absolutely would sacrifice again almost your entire life to do?

LOPEZ-ALT: It would be something much smaller than Wursthall. So, we’re opening a couple more Wursthalls in the coming years, but we’ve talked about other restaurant concepts as well, and if we were to work on something together again, we would do something much smaller. The idea I’ve been throwing out at them is a Korean fried chicken sandwich place, which is a recipe that I’ve done at a number of pop-ups, I think is extremely delicious, but it’s essentially chicken brined in kimchi juice and then done Nashville hot chicken style. But instead of the Nashville hot chicken oil that goes on there, we make a sauce with Korean chili flakes and a bunch of Korean flavors, and it’s super delicious and the kind of thing that I think would do well as a fast-casual thing. That would basically be it for me. I want to feed a lot of people and make them happy. I don’t want to open an ego restaurant. I don’t want people to come to worship at the altar of Kenji Lopez-Alt, come for this experience. I want a place that people say, “Hey, that’s a f— good sandwich. I’m going to have that once a week.”

Thanks to Kenji Lopez-Alt; his new restaurant, Wursthall, is in San Mateo, California. His book is called The Food Lab — and he’s currently working on a follow-up, so keep your eyes out for that.

Freakonomics Radio is produced by Stitcher and Dubner Productions. This episode was produced by Harry Huggins. Our staff also includes Alison Craiglow, Greg Rosalsky, Greg Rippin, Alvin Melathe, Zack Lapinski, and Andy Meisenheimer. The music you hear throughout the episode was composed by Luis Guerra. You can subscribe to Freakonomics Radio on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Here’s where you can learn more about the people and ideas in this episode:

SOURCES

J. Kenji Lopez-Alt, chef, restauranteur, and food writer.

RESOURCES

The Food Lab by James Kenji Lopez-Alt (W. W. Norton & Company 2015).

EXTRA

Wursthall, 310 Baldwin Ave, San Mateo, CA 94401.

“Food + Science = Victory!” (Freakonomics Radio, Nov. 5, 2015).

The post Why You Shouldn’t Open a Restaurant (Ep. 347) appeared first on Freakonomics.

from Dental Care Tips http://freakonomics.com/podcast/how-to-open-a-restaurant/