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divagonzo · 7 years ago

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Go or no Go - Ch. 15 of the Ron Weasley Chronicles

FF.net // Ao3 (which I will be working on posting in entirety the next couple of days)

Tagging @callieskye and @ronaldswheezy since I told them it would be posting today. Also tagging @anemotionalteaspoon since they are a Ron Weasley Community and might be interested.

A/N: Happy Birthday to that amazing Man with the enormous Character Arc - Ron Weasley. I’ve had this stuck in development hell for months and then yesterday everything flowed like water. So I hope you enjoy it and since I’m on Holiday next week, I plan on writing another 2-3 updates so I can wrap up the story by the end of this year. Also, Rated T for Ron’s filthy mouth and not much else. - DG

“So since we’re not sleeping the rest of the night, tell me about it.” Hemera Jones gave Ron one pointed look that would make the most hardened criminal wet themselves. But on him, after all the hard looks from Hermione, he was immune.

Ron side-eyed Harry and saw him slightly nod his head and keep reading. Bless that git for understanding what they all needed tonight.

“This doesn’t leave the room – for any reason. Deal?” Ron turned back to Hemera, intending to clam up if she didn’t agree.

“I promise.” Hemera winced again before taking a deep breath. “Next time break my arm. It’ll hurt less.”

“How about both so you forget your shoulder?”

“Idiot.”

“Yeah, I am. Anyway, how much do you know of what we went through the year of the coup?”

“Regarding you and Potter and Granger? Not that much. Kingsley wasn’t forthcoming. I thought for a while that he took an Unbreakable Vow from what he knew and refused to divulge. But I can guess some of it, and that guessing is probably wrong. Right?”

“He promised to not say anything unless I was the one to tell it. I’m glad he kept his promise.” Harry didn’t look up from his book and didn’t volunteer anything else. “Those days were what I needed but they were horrible. There are some secrets that absolutely must be kept. And the fewer people who know about it, the better, for everyone.”

Harry and Hemera shared a look before she broke eye contact and looked back at Ron sitting next to her bed.

“Anyway, my Brother Bill got married the day before Harry’s 17th birthday. We’d already moved Harry from his family home.”

“That was the night Mad-Eye died, wasn’t it?”

“It was. My brother Bill saw him fall from his broom. I remember – “ Ron stopped. “But that wasn’t Mad-Eye as a Defense teacher. That was an imposter. But I met him a few times and his words still echo in my head.”

“He was an amazing Auror before the stresses of the job broke him. Then again, when you do this job long enough, paranoia is a small price to pay.”

“Does Aurora help?”

“Immensely. While I can’t talk about specifics with her, which she understands, she’s there to listen without words, or when I’m upset and need a distraction. Sometimes all I need sometimes is for her to be there, not even doing anything except cooking dinner and prattling on about some of her students, or what she saw through the telescope the night before, or the turnips she picked up at the market that morning. You know, domestic stuff. All of that grounds me and reminds me I’m not my job.” The dark-eyed witch sighed before cringing in pain and saw him nodding. “It’s not just sex, Weasley. It’s that mundane day to day shit, the unimportant moments that make the moments worth living. It reminds me – and hopefully you – what is important – and it’s not this crap we fight day in and day out. Having someone share your life, even the really grotesque bits make it worth dealing with the grotty days.”

“Hermione does too. But I don’t know how to get through this.” Ron ran his hands through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Crass words erupted spilled past his lips. “They were kids and I know they signed up for this but fuck, they barely needed to shave more than once a week. They were first years when all of the shit at Hogwarts went down.” Ron looked up and saw Hemera watching him. “How can we ask these kids who were innocent those days to pay this kind of price? Why the hell did that wench think that she could blackmail, kidnap, and demand a place without earning it?”

“Guilt is a heavier price to carry, Weasley, if you’re going to do this job. But you also didn’t force those kids to sign on the line for this career. They knew what they were getting into, especially once they learned the history of the Aurors as cadets and had more time than you and Potter had to get to this point. The lessons Moody taught – and what not to do – are still being taught, especially by you.

“Now you got the conversation shifted. Nice try, Weasley.”

“Damn. I thought it wasn’t obvious.”

“I had Granger for a year. She was a pro. Now, back to Moody and that year.”

Ron sighed. “Bill saw Moody fall. My brother George lost an ear to Snape that night, the bastard. But we got Harry safely away and out of that sod’s possible hands. It came so close to going sideways that night, with all the shit flying around. Bill was rather fond of Moody in his own way. He was gutted that night over it, and more the next day when they couldn’t find him.

“But then the night of my brother’s wedding was when the ministry fell. That was about a fortnight later.” Ron bit his lips in a poor imitation of his wife.

Hemera waited patiently for him to continue and decided to interject. “I got caught up in that mess. It’s a wonder I escaped, much less Kingsley. He doesn’t like talking about it and I don’t either but you should know: I killed four people that night so I could escape – friends who I’d worked with for years. I think he had to kill six to escape. We were hunted from that night too. But he had been guarding the Minister and they jumped him. He couldn’t save Scrimgeour. Merlin knows he tried but someone blasted the Minister. Fell dead in Kingsley’s arms.”

“I didn’t know,” Ron’s voice was barely audible. “I’d go spare if I had to do that to escape.”

“That’s why Kingsley, Gawain, and I insisted the first ones back take Veritiserum and ask them if they were part of the coup. The ones who refused were incarcerated ‘til we could make sure. Those were some ugly first few days in the Ministry.”

“The only thing I remember is Percy being gone until the day of Fred’s funeral. He came with the Minister and left with him two hours later. The prat still won’t talk about it. I don’t think I saw him again until Harry’s birthday party at the end of July.”

“He was doing what Kingsley and I couldn’t do – go through reams of parchment and build the case for the prosecution for those who survived the purge. His efforts the first month are the stuff of legal legend. He singlehandedly put away Umbridge with his documentation of her Muggle interrogation court. He put Yaxley under the prison with more documentation.”

“So that’s what happened,” Ron said quietly. “He was holed up with all of the binders.”

“He was running on pepper up potions like so many of us did those first few weeks. There were quite a few of us who were addicted to the stuff and had to have the addiction broken. Trust me when I say it wasn’t pretty at all.”

Ron refused to speak up about Hermione that year he was separated from her. But Hemera probably knew about it so there was no reason to speak of it.

“Anyway, keep talking. I know Kingsley sent a warning. He said he sent his Patronus to Arthur. After that, it gets a bit blurry and fuzzy in the details. I don’t remember much that first week.”

“We received it in the middle of the wedding reception. Within moments, Death Eaters crashed the party. They were firing off spells left and right. Lupin shoved Harry into me and Hermione and the three of us apparated away. That night was pretty barmy. We didn’t know what was happening at home and couldn’t return because Dad sent his Patronus where we were hiding and told us to stay hidden.”

“And what did happen?”

“The bastards, they tried to hurt Ginny, thought they could get her to say where we were at. Or threaten her so someone would sell us out. Fleur spared Ginny and took down three with her Veela magic. I dunno if they died or were stunned but dad said they escaped. Ginny was unharmed and so was Fleur. But we didn’t know that for a very, very long time.”

“Where did you hide, if I might ask?”

“Where we lived after the war ended for a few years – Grimmauld Place. Only Snape knew of it and we were hoping that he wouldn’t come calling. But we were able to hide there almost two months. We had to leave it after the break-in of the Ministry.”

“Why did you do something completely mental?”

Ron stole a glance at Harry and Harry shook his head.

“We were hunting information and we thought the toad had it. It was mental and utterly barmy but it made sense at the time. We found some things out but we were caught and everything went sideways. Yaxley caught us during apparition and found our hiding place. We had to escape and did, thanks to Hermione. But I got hurt.”

“How bad? Did you get slammed into the ground and bust a shoulder?”

“Close,” Ron said. “I got splinched, nearly died from bleeding out. It’s a wonder that Hermione was able to save my life.” Ron lifted his left arm. “She must have used half a bottle of dittany on my arm, where almost the whole muscle and upper arm was scooped out in the mishap.”

“I never noticed that on you.”

“It’s there. I worked very hard during training to build it up strong. I’d noticed that my left shoulder had some weakness in it, especially doing close quarters dueling that I said I’d not allow it to be a vulnerability. And it’s not, anymore.”

“So you kept hiding?” The next thing I’d heard, months later, was that you’d been seen at Malfoy Manor and escaped again.”

“That, unfortunately, was true. We got caught by Snatchers and they figured me and Hermione out but not Harry. It’s a wonder we escaped there.”

“How did you?”

Ron took a deep breath. “Elven magic. Harry had a house elf who adored him and did anything he asked. The elf helped us escape – and paid the price for it. Hermione still talks about Dobby to this day.”

“And that’s where she changed, isn’t it?”

“If you mean where she has her trauma, yeah.”

“She told me about it, one time when we talked. She needed someone and her favorites were unavailable. I was it and she spilled everything – including how you saved her life.”

“I dunno about that,” Ron spoke up.

“He did. He just won’t admit to it.” Harry piped back down and went back to reading.

“Well, the git says I did so I’ll go with it.”

“Then a month later, there was a break-in at Gringotts, a dragon escaping and destroying the bank, and then you show up at Hogwarts. That made absolutely no sense. There were kids there.”

“Like I said, it made sense at the time. We thought we’d be able to rally people to the cause and maybe have the numbers to stop them for good. We did, eventually, but the costs were astronomical, as Hermione would say.” Ron rubbed his face. “The costs were enormous.”

“Your brother, right?”

“Yeah, along with many friends and friends of the family. Merlin, I saw Lavender dead in the Hospital wing. It was only months later that we found out that she was alive, if not a full werewolf.” Ron looked up from his hands. “That’s why she’s out of bounds. I admit I was an utter tosser to her as a boyfriend, I won’t stand anyone slag on her. She’s got so much courage,” Ron’s voice drifted off, not finishing the sentence.

“I lost someone too.”

Ron looked up at the witch in the bed in front of him. “I only found out after the fighting ended the night at Hogwarts. Even then it was months.” Hemera looked over towards the door, her gaze far off. “The bastards killed my brother. They went to his flat in Peckham and forced their way in. He should have been protected, being a Pureblood. Nope. They tortured him. Sods were hunting me but I’d spoken to him the day before they found him. He knew to not ask and I’d move after talking with him. He’d never know where I was. I warned him but he said, the last time we talked, ‘I’m a pureblood. What are they going to do to me? Not a bloody thing.’ Dumb sod thought he would be protected.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s why I was running myself ragged those months before the first term at Hogwarts started and I was on duty there, teaching as well as keeping watch. Instead of hunting down the bastards who murdered my brother, I was teaching first years spell theory I’d forgotten 25 years prior.”

“Tell me about him,” Ron leaned in closer, stealing a glance at Harry behind him. Harry had dozed off, his glasses askew, the book lying on his lap. “I’ll share about Fred if you want.”

“He was two years younger, and in Hufflepuff. My parents loved him while the rest of us teased him. He played Quidditch and was pretty good. He bounced around the various teams, being good enough to be on the team but not good enough to start every match. But like the rest of us, he adored Gwenog. He would practice with her in the summers growing up, throwing the Quaffle around with us while bludgers flew too. He flew pretty well but not as well as your sister does. She’s something else up there on a broom.” Hemera turned back to Ron, sitting slumped in his chair. “He had a good life ‘til those sods ended it.”

“You know who was responsible?”

“No one admitted to doing it. But my guess is Dolohov along with maybe Yaxley, or Rowle. The first two were notorious enough to do what they did to him.”

“How did you find out?”

“Your brother Percy found out about it and told me. He read a sheet of parchment listing interrogations. Most of it was bollocks but he came across my name and pieced together what he read. When he realized what he had, he took it to the Minister and he told me when I checked back in.”

“That’s probably worse than having a wall exploded onto you and killing you instantly.” Ron wiped his face with the back of his jacket. Another tear fell followed by another. “Shit, it’s been years and I still can’t talk about it without being a bloody ponce.”

“You’re not. That’s your brother. There’s no shame in feeling something for his loss. Merlin knows that I still hurt over missing Hector.”

“He wasn’t paying attention. Percy made a joke, telling Minister Thicknesse that he was resigning. Fred thought it was a joke from Percy and that prat rarely makes jokes. But he did, dueling up in the hallways before the explosion. When I came to, Fred was dead and Percy was inconsolable. We had to scramble away because Acromantulas were coming up the castle wall and into the castle. We had to run and drag Fred with us, to somewhere safe. It wasn’t until later that we saw the carnage in the Great Hall during the lull in the fighting.” Ron wiped his face again. “So many died. Merlin, it’s a wonder we didn’t all kark it.” Ron stared again, lost in memories. “Where were you that night?”

“Kingsley sent his Patronus when he arrived at Hogwarts with Remus and Tonks. I was outside flying with that silly git Oliver Wood, from Puddlemere, along with some other Quidditch players. Who knew they’d be that adept on aerial maneuvers and firing off spells while flying upside down.” Hemera inched up on the bed, wincing. “I know I knocked about ten off their brooms, possibly killing them by how fast everyone was flying. Up there, in the night sky with all the spells flying around, it’s a wonder we didn’t kark it as well, as you so eloquently put it.”

“I know that many were falling left and right, from what I saw later on, with Neville and Oliver bringing in casualties. I helped some, bringing students to the hospital wing. I must have brought a half dozen in myself.”

“I was too busy to have noticed. That was when Harry disappeared, too. Stupid git.”

“Well, I can tell you that Oliver and Neville brought the bulk of those injured in from outside, those they could get to. There were some, probably death eaters or such, who drown in the black lake or down in the other chasms. I dunno, frankly, but it was a high butcher’s bill.”

“And when Voldemort died,” Ron sighed and Hemera interrupted.

“Kingsley found me straightaway and put me on the third most important mission – to chase down those who had escaped. We knew that plenty did, those who survived. We knew about Avery, and Dolohov, the Lestrange Brothers, along with Rookwood. Merlin, I still remember that moment, Kingsley staring at me an inch away, trying to whisper and failing since he’d been blown off his feet by Voldemort. ‘Dolohov escaped. Find him. Do whatever is necessary.’

“So that’s why you were off ‘til Hermione saw you that day in Professor McGonagall’s office looking like dragon droppings.”

“Yeah. Thankfully Madame Pomfrey broke my pepper up addiction straight-away before term started. That was how I was running on 4 hours of sleep every three days. I don’t recommend it, ever.”

“So you – “

“I recognized it immediately if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. I knew something was up but she never said anything.”

“It wasn’t that she didn’t want to.”

“How do you know?”

“We had a rather pointed and candid talk one night during detention.”

“She had detention? With you?”

“Yes, with me. I think she’s still irate with me over that night’s detention.” Hemera looked at Ron and saw the look on his face. “She didn’t tell you that, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Want to know? It’s not like I’m leaving this bed for a couple of days, I reckon.”

“We had class one afternoon and she was present but otherwise not paying attention. I forget what the class topic was but that isn’t important. Anyway, I mentioned using a particular set of protocols in surveilling someone – which is Auror standards, and she contradicted me in class in front of everyone.”

“That sounds like Hermione, for sure.”

“Well, when I attempted to correct her, she went spare and sideways, saying that the Auror protocol would get people killed in certain situations, because of the waiting on reinforcements issue. I naturally disagreed and she wouldn’t listen to decades of experience. So I called her on it and she went mental. I gave her detention and you know what she did? Laughed. So I gave her a second for her cheek.”

“I bet that went over well.”

“As well as a missed bludger smacking you in the face when you whiffed it. She laughed harder and so I sent her to Minerva for her insolence. But by then the class was up in arms and so I called it a day, fourty minutes early. Minerva found me a couple of hours later after talking with Miss Granger and said she would apologize when she saw me the next night for detention – and the next two as well, since Minerva gave her one for disrespecting me.”

“She did? I bet that stung.”

“So naturally when Miss Granger came for her first detention, we did sparring with wands. I wanted to see her angry, and how well she could actually perform. She did pretty well, considering she wasn’t going to be an Auror, but she was also predictable. I think I stunned her six times in an hour, and after each one, she was getting more irate, more furious, more vicious, but also easier to predict That last one she was close to killing, I’d swear. I can see why she was able to duel Bellatrix and not die within two seconds.

“Anyway, After the sixth one, I called it a session. She was furious, but I think it was more at herself than at me. I sent her on her way and I went to talk with Minerva. The next night, we did it again, and again I stunned her six times over. She never said a word to me, not even when she departed for the night. Once again I went to talk with Professor McGonagall because I was genuinely confused by Miss Granger. She bade me to be patient and that Hermione would eventually come around to trusting me.

“She was wrong. The only times I could get her to talk were in class, only. But I also will admit this – she was absolutely right. I informed Gawain of what she said and how we handled things, especially in kidnapping and hostage situations. That was when we changed that protocol, to not wait when things are going sideways. That’s why we sent you and Potter in immediately on the warehouse job when things went to shit to try and salvage the situation and not wait for backup.”

“So before, you waited for backup? How many people died by doing it that way?”

Hemera took on a haunted look in her eyes. “Enough that it keeps me from sleeping some nights. I’m honestly glad Granger forced me to change my mind enough that I went to Robards and had the procedures changed. Sure we might lose an Auror now and then, but damn if we don’t keep more of those in need of protecting alive.” Jones looked up from the white woolen blanket on her bed covering her lap. “Being an Auror is a dangerous job. That’s why we signed up, right? Our job is to protect the innocent and capture the accused and bring them to justice. Staying safe is important but not at the expense of lives lost by our waiting on backup.”

“You don’t regret being bait in this whole affair, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’d do it again. But I am upset that we lost Archer and Mallory along with the one who was causing all of this mess. They didn’t deserve to die on our watch.”

“We didn’t have anyone else to bring in, did we?”

“No, not really. Everyone else was out on assignment or on medical or various reasons. We couldn’t wait for a day or three for Robards to get enough Aurors back to storm the proverbial castle. I hate though that we took juniors on the case, though.”

“That’s my fault. Harry and I could have done it ourselves. We should have – “

“You’re doing it again – blaming yourself for the actions of others. You think Mallory would have stood back while his best friend was in danger? You know that you’d go mental if anything would happen to Harry.”

“Both of us would,” Harry spoke up in a groggy voice. “Ron doesn’t think so but he is my best mate and the one I trust the most. Anything happened to him and I’d – “

“We know, Harry. Now get some rest, would ya?” Ron cut across Harry.

“Git.” Harry had affection in his voice.

“Prat,” Ron replied back half-heartedly.

Ron turned back to see Hemera grinning. “See, I told you. It’s obvious to everyone in the office. Robards knows it too, which is why he has the two of you working together much of the time. The two of you work well together.”

“But I also know that there is going to be an uproar over this situation.”

Ron hung his head. “I’m fully expecting to be sacked tomorrow over the whole thing.”

“Bollocks. If anyone will, I will. I started the whole thing and didn’t kick the strumpet out of the program the minute she tried to blackmail me. If they are hunting for a head, I’ll let them take mine before yours. You are entirely too valuable for this department long term. You have a real head on your shoulders for this job and how to do it right while also keeping integrity and honor in it.”

Ron looked away from the bed, his ears turning a virulent shade of red.

“You know I’m right.”

“Maybe, but how can Harry and I change the department when it’s been the same for centuries?”

“Innovate. Get Granger to help assess the procedures and protocols. Have your bureaucrat brother write and document it all. The only ones who might have an issue are Williamson and I but we’ll change if it helps do the job better and keep those we protect safer, even if we are in more danger.”

“So that means rushing into danger if we have to, regardless of our personal safety, right?”

“Absolutely. I already live with the horror of finding witches dead because we waited to go in with overwhelming force when, had we gone in immediately, even if we put ourselves in peril, would have saved lives.” Her face turned hard. “I don’t want you living with the guilt I do by possibly letting people die because we waited to be safer. It’s bollocks.”

“What else can we do? Since Harry and I are Seniors now, can we also make sure that the ones we bring into the department are above reproach? I don’t want another entitled Pureblood getting in and thinking they have it made just because of their name or heritage.”

“It won’t since they have to pass Healer Reeves and she’s a niffler for anyone having some hidden anger issues. And if you mean a pure meritocracy? It might work if we can assure the Wizengamot that our ideas are meant to keep the Corps to the highest ideals of honor and integrity.” Her eyes grew hard yet again. “That might mean having Slytherins in the department, with their ideas of integrity. Can you handle that?”

“I don’t care which house they are from. I want them to be willing to step into the fray and take a spell if it means saving the lives of others. I’m tired of losing other Aurors, mind you, but by Merlin, I’m more tired of people dying because we want to be safe. Shit, if I want to be safe, I’d quit and go work for George where I might have a chance of dying only once a week rather than any particular shift I lace my boots up.”

“Hermione doesn’t know how dangerous our job has been, does she?”

“Frankly, I think she does, on some level. She knows when I come home and can’t talk and sees how upset I am and need a fast hard … anyway, she’s receptive to my needs on those days and doesn’t question it. But I’m also sure she gets some reports to know something, even if she doesn’t comprehend how damn scared I get out there sometimes. Fuck, I was when I saw you hostage and I couldn’t think fast enough on how to protect you, the others, and keep Harry safe.”

“Did you think that Harry had your back?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s also protecting him, too.” Ron rubbed his neck and looked over his shoulder. Harry was asleep again, snoring softly with the book fallen into his lap. He turned back to the witch in the bed before him. “From the first time I met him, and I realized who he was, I hoped I would be his friend, even if I didn’t realize how complicated that might be. I could see that he was dressed in natty robes, and I was right. They were grotty hand-me-downs from his cousin who was a spoiled sod. Harry was mistreated growing up by his Muggle relatives and to hell with them. It wasn’t ‘til years later that Harry and I talked about what happened to him growing up. It’s fortunate that I was underage otherwise I’d have hexed them to oblivion. And don’t ask Ginny what she thinks of them, either. If you think I’m bad in reacting to them, don’t get her wound up about those Muggles. It’s far from pretty.”

“Anyway, so sure everyone knew who Harry Potter was, even then as kids. No one really knew who I was and I had this rubbish thought that Mum and Dad had five older brothers and a sister. I was more than redundant, but Harry was important. So I promised myself that I’d look out for him, and protect him as much as I could, and be the best friend a bloke could want. Sure we have had our rows sometimes,”

“Not counting the knock-down drag out in front of me in training that day, obviously,” she added.

“Yeah, that wasn’t one of my better moments, mind you, but we laugh about it now. Anyway, he’s my brother and I’m closer to him than most of my siblings, ‘cept maybe Ginny or George. I trust him completely even if he’s a bit of a prat sometimes. And while Hermione gives me hell for it, I’d rather take an injury if it keeps Harry from being hurt or killed. But for some silly arsed reason, he is the one in the hospital bed more than I am. I can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe it’s that you’re trying to be more of a hero than he is and he’s protecting your back. Ever think of that?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’d rather be in the hospital bed dealing with Hermione than hearing it from Ginny or Mum that Harry got hurt. If anything happened to him, I’d go spare and probably crawl into a Firewhiskey bottle and never come out.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t, but you’d probably get yourself hurt horribly and permanently if you did anything about it, or earn a stint in Azkaban.”

“Not like I’d want that,” Ron replied with little fire. “He’s my best mate. I’d do anything for him. And I pretty much have, like he has for me.”

“So help me and him revolutionize the department, then. I know you’re broken up over what happened today. I am too even if I don’t look like it. But there has to be a balance between protecting your fellow Aurors and protecting those who need it. The old methods aren’t working anymore, not in this new era. I’ll work with you to find new ways of doing this job, so fewer people are hurt.”

“You think we can, even with Robards having a wand up his ass when we make suggestions on how we can do the job better?”

“I think so. You might think he’s a bit of an arse but he’s actually softened up since he took the Director’s job this time around. He actually listens to the guys in the field and trusts them more than insisting that they do things his way now. And if you say you did it and can give him good reasons for breaking protocol, like saving lives, sod the rules, he’ll back you up 100%. Remember when we broke countless laws to get your Mum back safely? How you got the shit beat out of you magically to save her?”

“Of course I do. That was Mum.”

“He didn’t tell you he caught hell from the Wizengamot, even if everything was legally justified. The Purebloods on the court were 27-26 in making Gawain redundant. He barely held on, but only because Kingsley spoke up for him and that we caught the Death Eater and saved your Mum and only broke the laws as a very last resort. So you might think of him as a bit of a tosser, but he’s quietly had your back for yonks now.”

“I kind of figured that.”

“So once I’m out, you and Potter will sit down with me and we’re going to re-write the procedure book. Merlin knows it’s barely been updated in a century practically. Help me makes those lives that were lost today worth something, so we can save the next ones from bureaucratic cockups.”

Ron chewed his lips in a fair imitation of Hermione while stewing over everything Senior Auror Jones spoke about. Deep down, he knew she was right, and that the bureaucracy caused more problems than solutions. Then again, he knew that from Hermione. “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll help. Maybe it’ll help with some of the guilt I’m feeling.”

“Ron, that feeling never really goes away. You just learn to put it aside a while and do the job. We can mourn the dead but I’ll be arsed if we don’t fight like hell for the living.” Hemera put her hand out and Ron gripped it, contrasting his freckled, pale and scarred skin to her dark scarred skin. “We owe Daniel and George that much.” She smiled but it barely touched her eyes.

“And we’ll do it for them, and the rest who will follow them.” Ron added.

#Dragon's Fic #hpfic #Romione #Ron Weasley #Harry J Potter #OFC #Auror!Ron #Harry only gets a mention because he's barely in the scene #Under the Cut since it's over 5K in length #In Honor of Ron's B'day #happy 38th #Rated T #Ace safe #Bi representation with OFC #for those interested #Queue up for the Dragon

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truemedian · 5 years ago

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Kotaku Reacts To Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Screenshot: NintendoTwo weeks have passed since Animal Crossing: New Horizons came out, and almost everyone on the Kotaku staff has poured themselves into trying to make our new desert islands feel like home. It’s been...a process—full of blood, sweat, and a lot of broken axes—and we have some thoughts about it.Hopefully by now you’ve read fellow staff writer Ian Walker’s excellent review of the game, but in addition, we wanted to share the opinions, reactions, personal tribulations, and success stories of others on the staff as we survive Tom Nook’s fascinating new time share scheme together.

“My shitty house”—Maddy MyersScreenshot: Nintendo Maddy MyersI do not play simulation games. I spend no time at all on character creators. I’ve never played an Animal Crossing game before. And yet, Animal Crossing: New Horizons has become a game that I play almost every single day.I’m not sure if I’m even enjoying it. But I do know that it’s fulfilling a hyper-specific need for me right now. As an introverted person who already works from home, I don’t get a lot of social interaction in my daily life, outside of spending time with my equally introverted girlfriend. Before covid-19 happened, I would get a lot of low-impact socializing done in a typical week by chatting with the cashier at the grocery store, or making small talk with the other people at my gym. All of that is gone now.Instead, I make small talk with Timmy and Tommy. I discuss exercise with Flip, the jock monkey villager who lives in my Animal Crossing town. And, of course, I decorate my crappy Animal Crossing apartment and I invite my real-life friends over to (virtually) see it, and then I apologize to them, because it looks even worse than my actual real-life apartment. Animal Crossing allows me to perfectly recreate all the awkward but somehow fulfilling social interactions that I used to have when society still functioned.Will I keep logging in to Animal Crossing every day after the covid-19 pandemic has passed us over? Probably not. But until then, it’s given me a chance to see what it is that other people enjoy about this genre. It’s also made me realize that I need to seriously work on my interior decorating skills.

Ian WalkerI only own two pairs of jeans in real life, but I’m rapidly running out of room for all the clothes I buy in Animal Crossing. Here are some of my outfits:Mike FaheyOn the day Animal Crossing: New Horizons launched, the 512-gigabyte micro SD card in my Switch died. Four days later, after my wife had started playing, her Switch suddenly stopped charging. While trying to get her Switch to work, my system, purchased mere weeks before the game’s launch, stopped outputting video. As I normally play in TV mode, that’s not great. I have a Switch Lite, but I ran it over with my wheelchair and cracked the screen.Nintendo’s warranty repair is down, so I have to wait until the world returns to normal to get any of these consoles repaired. With Nintendo supply down, it’s nearly impossible to buy a new Switch right now. So my wife went on eBay and purchased a refurbished Switch tablet for $250. That’s how much fun we’re having bonding over Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

I can’t play when she can’t play. It’s just too sad. I feel bad sharing items I get, clothing I wear, and bugs I collect with her. For the several days we got to play together, by which I mean in the same room, it was much easier to forget pressing real-world concerns for a little while.We stayed up late to harvest bells. We got up early to see what occurred on our islands as we slept. The chores we must perform on our islands are much more entertaining than the ones we must perform in real life. They are still chores, but they pass the time and make us happy.Bklurbbbb...Natalie DegraffinriedI’ve spent 105 hours playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons over the span of a couple weeks. I suppose I kind of like Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Or my OCD is back with a vengeance. I keep going to celebrations for inclines and bridges even though I’m tired of them, so it’s probably the OCD.

I didn’t think I could take the fine art of min-maxing to higher heights, but here I am in an endless cycle of Nook tickets, tarantula grinding, and organizing my inventory by item valuation. It’s all to fund my Able Sisters shopping problem, ultimately. I look fly as hell, though.

Min-maxing in Animal Crossing is not for the faint of heart, nor is it always a great way to play. It might be even harder to do now that the seasons have changed. Will that stop me? No. I’ll keep getting upgrades and obsessively trying to pay them off in the same day. Do what gives you peace, I say.Just don’t be a fucking goober like my friend.

Riley MacLeodNew Horizons is my first Animal Crossing—our editor-in-chief Stephen talked the game up so much I got really curious about it. I only actually started playing this week, so everything feels very slow—when I get the itch to do something, I keep wanting to switch to Stardew Valley, but I’m really charmed by how happy the NPCs are when you do the simplest tasks and how often everyone claps for you. I also really like that your character runs around with their arms out. I put face paint on my guy and I can’t figure out how to get it off, so he just has face paint now I guess.

Ari NotisThe short version: This is the most annoying game I’ve ever played.And here’s how I really feel: At every turn, this stupid game presents a somehow brand-new hassle: how Blathers has to assess your fossils before you can donate them; how the Nook twins stop you to say thanks before you leave their shop, and how they say everything in not-quite-tandem (WTF is up with that); how you can only eat one fruit at a time; how your shovel is always breaking, your ax is always breaking, your net is always breaking; how two players can’t shop from the same person at the same time in co-op; how it’s impossible to dig a hole where you want; and how every damn day, that damn raccoon monster wastes my time to tell me there’s nothing new going on. I know there’s nothing new going on! This is Animal Crossing! Nothing new ever happens! This game is supposed to be an escape? Please. It’s at best a shoddy Xerox of life’s daily headaches.

Luke PlunkettEveryone says this is the game the world needs right now, but the last thing I need is a second mortgage hanging over my head. At least this one’s on the beach.Heather AlexandraI’ve never played an Animal Crossing game before now. In some ways, I missed out on many Nintendo games as my focus shifted off the Nintendo 64 in favor of the PlayStation and especially the modding scenes of PC games like Half-Life. When I needed a fix for homes away from home, I played Harvest Moon. That led to Stardew Valley and long hours on a co-op farm with a former partner. I enjoy the quiet of village sims and farming games. I also struggle to find the time for them.I haven’t taken the biggest plunge into ACNH. I had to focus on Nioh 2, then Doom Eternal, then Resident Evil 3. So 20-minute sojourns to my island every day were a rare and delicious treat. I can’t compare New Horizons to the others in the series, but I can say that it is an incredibly cozy game during a time when coziness seems rare. Sometimes, a good day means little more than some new wallpaper for your room. In other cases, it’s figuring out where to put that memorial statue you found. Animal Crossing is simple, but that simplicity is why you play it. Planting a new tree, inviting a new animal friend to your island. Small things that don’t feel small at all.Now, if only that freako rabbit would get off my island already...

Where every month is hoagie fest. Screenshot: Nintendo Ethan GachEvery night I shake all the trees, pick all the weeds, and smack objects with my axes until all of them break. In the morning I sell the stuff, and the cycle repeats. Conversations with other villagers scroll past as I smash the A button so I can get back to work. I buy everything I can from Tom Nook like I’m filling out a Sears Catalog Pokédex. I pay off all the loans thanks to the million bells I earned from New Horizons’ week-one infinite item glitch and subsequently invested in the Turnip market. I donate the wood and iron needed to build new homes for new residents. I capture new bugs and fish for the betterment of science. And all the while I wait like Vladimir and Estragon for an epiphany that will help contextualize each individual mundane task and help them culminate into a larger story I can derive some deeper sense of meaning and purpose from.Instead I’m left with a list of things that more closely resembles a CVS receipt. I suspect that’s a problem with me and not the game.Nathan GraysonFor the past week, I’ve been meaning to play through Doom Eternal and finally, properly dive into Control. Instead, I have mostly played Animal Crossing.I don’t really like it? I respect the relaxed pace it’s trying to establish, but by forcing players to step to its beat with fussy mechanics and NPCs who needlessly repeat themselves all the time, it’s managed to annoy me just as often as it’s lulled me into a state of balmy island bliss. Also, I’m bad at interior design, so right now my house looks like World of Warcraft’s Molten Core raid if Ragnaros was a disorganized college freshman who had no idea what to do with his dorm.Oh, and all my neighbors suck. In previous Animals Crossing (correct plural) , that didn’t matter so much, because I enjoyed doing little chores for them and feeling like I was creating a sense of community even among characters with whom I didn’t see eye to eye. In New Horizons, though, it’s all about land development, which feels less personal. I don’t want KK Slider to show up because I optimized my town. I want him to play some tunes for my villagers and me because he’s a chill, cool dude.All that said, this game has given me one of the coolest in-game moments I’ve experienced since we all got trapped inside our houses. I wrote about this at length in another piece, but the other night, DJ and streamer Clarke “Grimecraft” Nordhauser threw an in-game rave, and I attended. Surrounded by the avatars of people I did not know and dancing along with awkwardly improvised moves, I felt the same mixture of fear and exhilaration I’ve felt at countless shows in real life. After I shook my nerves (read: drank a glass of wine), it turned into a relaxing, nice time where everybody mostly talked about how good the music was and how much they appreciated the whole thing. Sometimes, a vacation can be 90 percent unpleasant, but then years later, all you remember is a soothing day on the beach or a perfect sunset. Animal Crossing has some really nice sunsets.

“Me and my partner hanging out last night in AC”—Paul TamayoScreenshot: Nintendo Paul Tamayo I’ve already talked about how Animal Crossing: New Horizons couldn’t have come at a better time, but the ways it’s helping me keep in touch with friends by sending gifts in-game, getting help from my podcast listeners, and hopping on calls to visit each other’s islands has taken this game to another level for me. It’s also giving me the space to put care into my own island like it’s my own adorable bonsai tree. I get to care for it and improve upon it in a million different ways. My partner actually made the beautiful observation yesterday that even after island hopping through our friends’ islands, it really does feel good to return home to your own space. Read More Read the full article

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stonsthro · 5 years ago

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When we last saw our heroine, she had just paid off her first home expansion to immediately request the first room addition to incur another 300 something thousands bells worth of debt.

Will she pay it off? Will she do it in a day? She honestly doesn’t remember so she’s gonna refer to a calendar and various strings of text messages, google hangout chats, and Instagram DMs to try to retrace the past 8 days of her ACNH life.

25 march 2020

It seems I failed to mention in my last post that my first new neighbor had arrived that day. His name is Boomer, and I met him on my first mystery island trip. We did not interact very much on that fateful first meeting, but I was on a mission (I believe to collect iron nuggets) and he is only an NPC with limited responses to limited interactions anyway.

Boomer is a funny little penguin. I also only found out yesterday that he’s a penguin. I thought he was just a non-descript bird. He likes bugs and snacks. He calls the bugs his friends, so I don’t think he eats them. He also really likes pear furniture and wooden simple beds. He has shared the wooden simple bed recipe with me twice already. If you need one, you know who to go to.

26 march 2020

Thursday. The second neighbor arrived that day. She is a pink panda named Pinky. She likes pink things. I don’t remember very much from this day. Neighbors aren’t worth much time the day that they first arrive to the island. They stay in their homes amidst stacked cardboard boxes sweeping away and never seeming to make any progress no matter how much time has passed from when you last checked in on them. Why is it important at all to greet them on their first day? These are questions I have asked myself. Do I have an answer now? Not really.

I’m pretty sure I mostly focused on paying off my debt this day. One of my friends shared a flower breeding efficiency guide, so this might have been the day that I started organizing my flower beds and got it in my head that I wanted to organize my fruit trees. I might be wrong about which day, but it definitely happened on some day.

AH. Whatsapp has reminded me that I actually didn’t do very much in this 24 hour period, because I spent most of my IRL night drinking. Oh to be human and feel alive.

27 march 2020

Friday. Friday Olive moved in. She is the last of the first 3 new island residents (where I suppose Stinky, Reneigh, and myself are all founding residents?). She’s a sweet little bear. She reminds me of either an older woman friend or an aunt or a best friend’s mom. A few days ago from today, she gave me a gift (I don’t remember now what it was, I probably sold it /: ) but she did say that she thought it was very kind and thoughtful of me to come and say hi to her on her first day on the island. So maybe that is worth something.. Although I’ve said hi to everyone on their first day and Olive was the only one to ever acknowledge it later…

I must have done quite a bit of island work, harvesting wood, crafting, selling fruit and furniture. And island hopping as well. This day I created a Google sheet pulling from multiple resources containing fish/bug information (seasons, times of day, and selling price), and a list of craftable recipes (how to obtain them, raw materials required, selling price). I was very tired of having all these tables that could not be easily sorted. I also made a calculator so you could quickly know how much the items in your pocket would return (not that you can’t trust Timmy and Tommy) or so you could quickly compare the value of say 10 non-native fruit versus a tadpole (spoiler alert, the tadpole isn’t it).

Quick note that might actually be helpful to some who aren’t as into this game as I am: A stack of non-native fruit will return 5000 bells. A stack of coconut, 2500 bells. A stack of your native fruit, only 1000 bells. Most bugs won’t return more than 1k, and fewer than half of the fish species will net you more than 2.5k. So know your valuable species and save your pocket slots for whatever’s gonna reap you the most return.

Spreadsheets are very helpful to me. I would one day like to make a craft recipe database that would let you know, based on what raw material you have on hand, which recipes would yield the highest return for material. I haven’t quite yet wrapped my mind around how I would do this (I think Notion would be the better tool for it, rather than Google Sheets), but I’m also hoping that maybe someone will do it before me. (And it’s exactly this attitude that keeps me from ever becoming an entrepreneur.)

I caught a koi this night! I only am able to remember which night is was because I took a little video! (Oh and I can actually share some images now because I set up a new twitter account exactly for this purpose.. I will be going back through previous posts to add a little imagery).

And I was hoping to find Celeste that night. I thought I saw a few shooting stars, but I didn’t know what to do about them. I had read an article a few days before this about Celeste giving a wand recipe and star fragments and wishing. But I didn’t commit the information to memory and also I hadn’t seen Celeste around anyway.

28 march 2020

Saturday Saturday.. I didn’t play as many hours as I was awake on Saturday.

IRL I had some errands to run that day. I got morning announcements and stayed busy while waiting for Nook’s Cranny to open.

Resident Services was closed this day for renovations. I was droppings bags of bells off in my house between trips to Nook’s Cranny. I didn’t do as much island exploring as I thought I might the day that RS wasn’t open for business. I had been wanting to try to land on tarantula island, but I just wasn’t up for flying.

29 march 2020

SUNDAY!

milestones: Resident Services opened in their brand spanking new building with actual walls. Isabelle is here, and from articles I’ve read online other players are very excited about that. I never played New Leaf (and definitely never got onto Pocket Camp), so I don’t know anything about her. But she is a welcome break from Tom Nook. Nothing against him, but you do get tired of certain character’s mannerisms, yes?

I had also read an article that misleadingly used a headline suggesting that Tom Nook is nicer in NH than in previous games. But the game creator said that Tom has always been a nice guy, and that the structure of this game perhaps just allows that to be more apparent now.

Daisy mae was at Stonsthro, and also at every other island that witch. I had not got around to selling my turnips from the week before so when I dug them up from my garden they were of course spoiled. I am not in desperate need to catching ants and flies, so I sneakily sold them to Timmy and Tommy (for probably zero bells, but still – they’re purported to not accept turnips, in any condition I would think, on Sundays).

The HHA gave me a rating of 30something thousand. And I think they also gave me kitchen furniture? In addition to my Nook Shopping packages I had a number of gifts in the mail. One was from Boomer, as a late island-warming gift or something like that. Even though he was the one to move here! (I’m so impressed with how much the game developers put into these characters.)

According to Whatsapp, this morning I still owed 54k to Nook for my 1st addition. I don’t know why I felt that was worthy of reporting to my group chat when 54k could easily be crafted and earned in mere minutes if the raw materials are already in storage.

AHH THIISS was the day that I actually organized my flower beds. I think on Thursday I just planted more flowers in a way that would be conducive to breeding, but I didn’t go full out and arrange the beds. Sunday I did exactly that and moved my outdoor workstation to make way for 3 flower beds – tulips, hyacinths, and windflowers. And I made moves with organizing my trees this day too. A little messy but still. Mostly I just carved a keep clear path to the entrance of Nook’s Cranny.

Sunday was an incredibly productive day on Stonsthro. All of this and with the RS open again, I scouted the area for our first incline (east side of the island, north of Boomer and Pinky’s houses) and paid it off.

I scouted the relocation of Reneigh’s house (FINALLY!) and paid that immediately (I think because I was required to…). She’s actually just north of the river from my house now. When I moved her house I did feel a little bit mean just uprooting her. But she was programmed to be on board with it. Even still, being aware that she likes to sleep in, I moved her to the west side of the island and because she seems to like her space she’s the only inhabitant in that area. Anyone who wants to come bother her will either have to cross a river or take a ladder down.

And the last milestone I covered this day was the placement for the campsite.

I think I did hop around this night hoping to land on tarantulas, but it didn’t happen. I hit a normal and the bell rock island. Normal island was a quick trip. I just knocked all the rocks mostly, fished each spot once, maybe twice, collected all the fruit and went back home. Bell rock island I spent a lot of time on actually. After knocking all the rocks I stayed and fished. The moat around the bell island spawns pond fish, probably because it doesn’t feed into the sea. I caught SO MUCH koi. And my boyfriend caught me on his IG stories absolutely geeking over my spreadsheet. (Koi banks 4000 bells a pop, so fuck all the dabs you might have caught on the beach.)

Oh but Sunday night! I did run into Celeste on Sunday night and I wished on SO MANY stars. More than 30, forsure. When talking to the neighbors that day, they were all going on about the meteor shower so I knew it was happening. Which makes me question why I thought I saw shooting stars on Saturday. Ohhhhhhh. I know. It’s because the game’s not so good with optical flow so when you’re running around the island, really bright stars dart around in the background instead of appearing still. That trips me up pretty often actually. I’ll be running and come to quick stop like a dog who’s just sighted a squirrel.

“I’m excited for tmrw! Bigger hours, reneigh will be in her new location instead of stupidly in front the of the museum, new ramp, and star fragments!” An actual text message I sent out to my group chat. Oh right. I paid off that 54k to Tom Nook and, of course, requested my 2nd addition.

30 march 2020

I have no idea what to do with my 2nd room. I don’t have enough items catalogued or recipes discovered to craft a proper bathroom or a proper kitchen. I don’t care to have a second bedroom. I don’t actually want to build a spa. I mean I do, but I kind of want an outdoor one (wah).

With the first infrastructure project done, the next was to build a bridge connecting the founder’s portion of the island to the most central part (which is also were I placed Nook’s Cranny). It’s the most frequently crossed portion of river for me, going back and forth between my house and the store to sell or buy (but mostly sell, amirite?).

Reneigh’s new place.. I love that it isn’t at the old place. The campsite.. is underwhelming. We didn’t have any visitors this day. But we did have Flick. Flick is very weirdly into bugs, but at least he knows that he’s weird about it? I didn’t catch a TON of bugs just because he was there, but also because bugs aren’t worth all that much to begin with so 1.5x on em is like eh. Pretty much I just caught bugs as I normally would and brought them to him instead of to the Cranny. I also gave him the tiger butterfly to create a … model? Statue? I wished it would have been the emperor butterfly instead but.. I just didn’t catch as many. I’d forget to save them and would sell them to him instead.

Well with the 2nd addition comes even more debt. It was 500somethingk this time around. I had absolutely no aspiration to pay this debt off quickly. Partially because I’d rather build more infrastructure on the island. Partially because I wouldn’t even know what to with whatever the next expansion is. Whether it’s more square feet or another room, it all needs more furniture to fill. So for now I’m just gonna buy new things every day so I can have the option to buy them again later. One thing that bums me out is that I wish that once you crafted something you have the option to just buy it for a marked up price later.

I did wood harvesting this day. Chopped and shook down all my trees. “Got stung 5 times, went through 4 axes, and shook 2 pieces of furniture out!” Around 8pm when that message went out. I crafted all that could be crafted and went to bed with my pockets full.

Oh! Worth mentioning: I collected something like 13 or 17 star fragments this day. I don’t even know what to do with all of that. I only have 2 wand recipes and both wands do the same thing -__- I ended up crafting just a bunch of bamboo wands. I wanted to give them away, to Reneigh and to Olive and maybe to Pinky. Reneigh was already asleep. Olive didn’t seem very impressed with the gift, but she did reciprocate and gave me a striped dress (that I really like, actually). But since she didn’t care much for it, I decided to sell the other wands instead of giving them to my neighbors. I think they go for a couple thousand bells, I can’t remember. I don’t regret it because at this point I don’t like Pinky all that much anyway.

31 march 2020

I fucked up this day. Straight up just fucked up.

IRL, I had a project deadline Tuesday morning that I honestly should have spent time working on Monday night to finish but if you’ve been reading you’ll know that I mostly was at Stonsthro catching some bees and chopping some trees, as Wilbur says.

So I didn’t have my usualmorning gameplay. Instead I was up at 6 and having a real work day straight through 3pm (which is honestly nice in these crazy times to have a feeling of things needing to get done). I also had some … let’s call it “exciting” IRL stuff go down, which on top of my work day left me just OVER IT.

I didn’t return to Stonsthro until 11pm. I didn’t realize how I fucked up until I came on and Isabelle started to read me the day’s announcements. THE ANNOUNCEMENTS AT 11PM. Nook’s Cranny, already closed! And my pockets still full from the night before. Not a single bell to be earned this day.

RS at least seems to be open 24 hours a day. I was able to give orders for the next infrastructure project, another incline just west of Olive’s house. I feel like naming the different areas of my island for easier reference.

And the campsite had a visitor. His name was Julian, he seems to be a little too woowoo, even for a unicorn. Maybe it’s ironic. At least I was able to talk to him and get him to stay at Stonsthro permanently, so the day wasn’t a total loss.

Because I’m not sure when this fits in, I’ll just drop this here: “My annoying neighbor horse is actually growing on me like she’s still a bitch but when’s all uhh I already talked to you today I’m like bye bitch and then she’s all :greetings: smize and I’m like okay grrl see you tmrw” And excuse my stupid texting, but it is true that I’m warming up to Reneigh. She doesn’t want me all up in her air, and she lets me know, and I respect that.

This one time I gave Reneigh this ugly ass pink Sherpa skirt because I didn’t want it and she has pink hair so idk. She said it isn’t really her thing, and gave me something in return. It was a basketball tank. Also not really my thing. I felt like we understood each other a little better after that.

1 april 2020

CHERRY BLOSSOMS!

This morning the island was undeniably PINK. What I love most about this is that I can now very very easily tell which trees are fruit bearing and which are not. Thank you, spring (:

Since I somewhat had organized my fruit trees already, the only ones that are unsorted are the native pears which just.. exist everywhere alongside the hardwood.

There are new bugs out too! Common bluebottle, peacock butterfly (am concurrently learning that this is not new to April, just new to the fact that I bred some blue hyacinths), locusts, water bugs. It was exciting to be in a new season because I was getting tired of the tiger butterflies and the paper kites. They’re still around but it’s nice to see something new.

I do have more to share about yesterday and about today. But it is 11:49pm right now and I think I’ve been at this since 8:30. Whyyyyyy?!??!?! Literally nobody is asking me to do this!

I don’t know I think it helps to feel like I have some kind of a grasp on where my days have been going.

#acnh animalcrossingnewhorizons animalcrossing newhorizons

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biofunmy · 6 years ago

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Turning a Condo Into an Experience

Trey and Kelsey Garza have been looking to buy a two- to three-bedroom condo in Brooklyn since last fall. Currently renting in TriBeCa, they are taking their time, monitoring new listings, visiting different neighborhoods, comparing amenities from building to building.

And, in one instance, sitting down to a six-course meal in a pricey new condo’s dining space.

On a March evening, the Garzas ate their way through a relaxed dinner in the first finished unit of a Morris Adjmi-designed building in Williamsburg. There was no sales pitch at this table for 12. Instead, guests heard descriptions of each course from the professional chef, Matt Cruz, who whirled around the open kitchen’s quartzite-topped island.

Attending a private supper club in a new luxury property was a first for the Garzas. “It made sense in all aspects,” said Mr. Garza, 34, who works in finance. He and his wife, 29, a textile importer and wholesaler, were able to get an early peek at the North 10th Street building (which goes on the market in May) immerse themselves in the space, and enjoy a gourmet meal on the developer’s dime.

“We both loved the event,” Ms. Garza said. “Particularly the intimacy of having the chef personally serve each course, explaining the nuances and inspiration behind each dish. It felt like a dinner party with close friends.”

Welcome to the new era of luxury real estate marketing. With the high-end housing market in and around New York tilting decidedly in buyers’ favor, real estate brokerages and developers are experimenting with all sorts of experiential events to draw attention to their listings. Marketing teams are trying to build brands for new buildings by aligning them with cool start-ups, fashion legends, and arts and cultural groups carefully selected for the demographic they might attract.

It’s all about buzz.

“We are in Manhattan’s most challenging market in the last decade,” said Nikki Field, a senior global real estate adviser at Sotheby’s International who has worked on several co-branded events in a $58 million penthouse for sale at the top of 212 Fifth Avenue. “People are looking at everything and everywhere. They are no longer focused on certain neighborhoods — a complete pivot from the old Manhattan-centric buyer — because the city has grown in luxury options in all directions. They have a lot of choices.”

It’s not new for brokerages to host party-style events in their high-end listings, often as a cross promotion for a new jewelry line, art gallery or wellness guru. But with so many events now cluttering the market, some firms are getting more creative, offering more than a free glass of wine and proximity to celebrity.

“There’s too much inventory — everyone gets lost in the shuffle,” said Vickey Barron, an associate broker with Compass who last year brought in world-renowned ballroom dancers to wow a wealthy audience in the penthouse at 100 Barclay Street, in TriBeCa. “Everyone is fighting for that buyer.”

In their rollout of the North 10th Street project, Halstead Property Development Marketing persuaded the building’s developer, Industrie Capital Partners, to team up with Resident, a supper club start-up. Brian Mommsen, a hedge-fund manager who started the club, said his goal was to provide a platform for young “overworked and underpaid” chefs to “experiment, expand their repertoire and grow their networks. And we want to create an awesome experience for guests through that prism.”

The relationship is symbiotic, of course. Halstead gets an interesting event that will bring in foot traffic, Mr. Mommsen gets the space, and together they hope to generate a stir on social media.

Attendees may be invited by brokers, or they can book a reservation with Resident privately (for $150 a person). The developer pays for the Halstead-sponsored dinners, which on the night the Garzas attended included such fare as scallops with Meyer lemon, turnip and chive, and Wagyu beef with sunchoke and black truffle, each with its own wine pairing. Guests were free to roam around the apartment, which was also hung with works by local street artists. But there was no hard sell. In fact, the only pitch that night was Mr. Mommsen’s introduction of the chef.

“Because it’s a very intimate building, with just nine units, we felt that the marketing approach should be as such,” said Jacob Hamway, a partner in Industrie. “Let people get together with good food in a social setting to really get a firsthand experience of the product. It’s a really strategic approach — it’s new, it’s edgy and I love it.”

Just a few weeks before, a different type of experience unfolded in a new townhouse for sale on Degraw Street, in Carroll Gardens. For two days, the townhouse’s four floors played host to a “fleeting retail” event put together by Big Lives, a company that stages shopping events featuring rising designers. An invitation-only Friday night event drew a packed house, while the Saturday open house was sparsely attended.

Guests could try on jumpsuits created by Brooklyn-based Combine De Filles and “size-free” jackets by House Dress. The spacious master bath was given over to Loli organic beauty products. Several designers were there to chat with visitors, while Big Lives founder Sam Alston played hostess.

Paige Goodings, 23, was among the Saturday shoppers, sporting a white, button-up shirt created by Grammar, another designer brand in attendance. A special-events coordinator at Karla Otto, Ms. Goodings said that while she wasn’t currently in the market for a seven-figure townhouse, she was a fan of Big Lives, and had been to several events in other locations.

“It’s somewhere new every time,” she said. “I like being able to explore a new neighborhood in the city, and step out of what I’m used to.”

The listing agent, Rotem Lindenberg, with Compass, said it was the first time she’d linked a property with fashion. This townhouse, with its minimalist design vibe, a finished basement area suitable for use as a studio, and “a great backyard for inspiration,” seemed particularly well suited to an event aimed at a creative-minded audience, she said.

“Even if those visitors weren’t buyers, they have friends, families, parents — it puts the word out there,” Ms. Lindenberg said. “Two years ago, you just put a property on the website and it would sell by itself. Today, you have to be more creative about cooperating with other industries to make things happen.”

Ms. Field, with Sotheby’s, has aligned 212 Fifth Avenue with a number of luxury-brand partners for events targeting a select group of potential buyers for the building’s 10,000-square-foot penthouse. (The building, which has 47 units in all, is 90 percent sold, she said.) Among the events they’ve hosted since the penthouse went on the market in January 2018 (then for more than $70 million) are a chamber orchestra performance to raise money for music education and an exclusive preview of Fendi’s upcoming fur collection.

“I know that my penthouse buyer is going to come from the exposure through one of these events,” Ms. Field said. “In a challenging market, you need to send the right message to the right people through the right events.”

Outside the city, the same trend is beginning to play out in suburban markets, though to a less ambitious degree. In Stamford, Conn., for example, Trinity Financial has used a series of experiential events to help build a brand around its 209-unit luxury rental complex, Vela on the Park, which is now almost fully leased at rents from $1,900 to $6,800 a month, said Abby Goldenfarb, a vice president in the Boston office of the developer. In February, they invited Sh*t That I Knit, a Boston company that sells merino wool knitwear (mainly hats) handmade by women in Lima, Peru.

“This is a creative, sophisticated company that is getting a lot of attention, and it helped us create a buzz on social media,” Ms. Goldenfarb said. “The two-hour event brought in people who may not lease, but now they know who we are. And it helps get the word out.”

In Wilton, Conn., Michele Ferguson Nichols, an agent with Douglas Elliman, recently attempted to draw attention to her listing on Pipers Hill Road by hosting an art-show open house and organic cooking demonstration there. The five-bedroom colonial, currently listed for $1.099 million, has been on and off the market for the past two years, and local agents “weren’t paying a lot of attention to it anymore,” Ms. Nichols said.

The owner, Cabell Molina, is a multimedia artist and gallery owner, so she hung various works throughout the house. Ms. Nichols also spruced up the décor with creations by other local female entrepreneurs, including decorative sofa pillows and floral arrangements. She promoted a Thursday evening event for agents and a public open house.

Only three agents showed up for the broker night — initially a disappointment, but one later returned to show the house to a client. Turnout for the open house, where Chef Via Melissa prepared and served her versions of stuffed mushrooms and asparagus quesadillas, was a little more encouraging, with around 40 people. “I was hoping for more, but I’ll take it!” Ms. Nichols said.

If the event didn’t yield any offers, it did result in five showings. “It was a good learning experience for me,” Ms. Nichols said, “which will help me make the next event more successful.”

Because, in this housing market, there’s always another event.

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lindsaynsmith · 6 years ago

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Humor and Horror Go Hand in Hand in These Spooky Stories

Humor and Horror Go Hand in Hand in These Spooky Stories https://ift.tt/2Q6F5dx

As anyone with a cursory knowledge of Halloween knows—which is to say, anyone from age two and up—the model ghost is a haunt who is skilled at parting you from your ability to remain unafraid.

Whether emerging from beneath your bed, the recesses of your closet, or the family crypt where you drink a pony of liquor each year to toast those who’ve have gone before, the best ghosts are in the terror business.

But what of the ghosts who make us laugh? What of their rich literary history? In even the scariest ghost stories, there tends to be some humor. Something potent often sparks its opposite, so humor works well with terror for the same reason that you see death and life and love and hate riding together.

So, let us wander the Great Hall of Funny Spooks, starting with one engineered by Nathaniel Hawthorne called “The Ghost of Dr. Harris.” The work was composed in a single day, in the late summer of 1856, with Hawthorne preferring to comment that this was a true story—or a witnessed one, anyway, witnesses being fallible—that was told to him, concerning a guy who really ought not to be at the Boston Athenaeum. This is a series of reading rooms here in the Hub, about a mile from where I sit writing this, which I walk past often, in some hope—no joke—of seeing the titular doctor outside, facing the gold-domed State House, which is just up the hill.

This story isn’t a side-splitter, but there is chicanery at play. Ghosts, until this point, had been fairly serious entities. Shakespeare used a lot of them, and Dickens too, much more than A Christmas Carol, and while works like that one could be very funny, the ghosts weren’t. Remember, Marley’s marching orders were to scare unrepentant Scrooge witless, using whatever means necessary, which is why he unwraps the cloth around his head and his jaw falls to the floor.

Hawthorne wanted a different effect, though. His story is about a young man who reads at the Athenaeum, where there is also the Reverend Doctor Harris, a venerated member, whom no one really bothers, not that there’s a lot of free-flowing conversation at this place. He sits fireside, always in the same chair, reading the Boston Post, which no longer exists, but which this guy loves. He reads it like you read The Daily Beast—addicted! Through thick and thin. One time the narrator sees him, then learns after the fact that Dr. Harris died earlier. So what the hell did he see?

Well, he saw the doctor’s ghost still following the previously living doctor’s routine. The humor comes in with the narrator not saying anything, save to remark, each time this happens, that it’s weird now that he wasn’t more weirded out then. Do you think? Old guys are passing out in chairs near the doctor, and the narrator can’t tell if they see what he sees, or if they’re just old guys who fade out from the scene and into their naps. There’s no menace, no threat, just this oddity that is kind of amusing. Your ribs aren’t so much tickled as warmly rubbed, but the stir of a laugh is there, and this was a groundbreaking story in that respect.

Frank Stockton kicked the humor up a bunch of levels with his 1882 story “The Transferred Ghost.” The tale centers on a man, staying at the country residence of a friend, who loves the so-called lady of the house, who is the friend’s niece, and of whom he is fiercely protective. This friend, Mr. Hinckman, goes off on a journey for business some 200 miles away, when his ghost pops into the narrator’s room one night. The narrator, of course, is all, “Oh my, he’s dead!” but the ghost rejoins with an “erm, not quite.”

Apparently, it’s tough to get a gig as a ghost. There are a lot of would-be ghosts waiting for people to die, then they take over their forms—spectrally speaking. Mr. Hinckman had almost died before, so the ghost of this story, thinking the older man was on his way out, put in his claim for his form, only to have him return to health.

The ghost, consequently, is terrified of the man he’s supposed to represent, and doesn’t want to be seen by him. He has a plan, and he asks the narrator’s help: He wants to be transferred to a new gig, free to take up the form of some other poor departed soul. He proposes a joint arrangement: Assist him in this, and he’ll aid the narrator in landing his love.

“You have no idea what a rush and pressure there is for situations of this kind,” the ghost laments. “Whenever a vacancy occurs, if I may express myself in that way, there are crowds of applications for the ghostship.”

So much for RIP.

Now let’s get weird. And wet. In 1904 John Kendricks Bangs published a story called “The Water Ghost of Harrowby Hall.” I know a lot of ghost stories, but I know of no other ghost story that incorporates—certainly not so blatantly—the topic of female ejaculation. Sounds like a ripping yarn, no? This story is set on Christmas Eve—as is the case with so many of the ghost stories that we read starting around Halloween—and involves people who drown, basically, in their bed, or of pneumonia years later, as a result of having been drenched by the ghost of the title. She comes (call that a pun) at night, does her squirty business, and leaves behind bits of seaweed.

The house’s owner, who lets out the rooms, narrowly avoids this fate, and seeks to rectify matters by reasoning with the ghost. (Intercourse, of the verbal variety, between ghost and human, as if they’re talking like any two people might, nothing to see here, etc., is a comic staple of these stories, I’ve noticed.) “Go sit out on the lake, if you like that sort of thing; soak the water-butt, if you wish; do not, I implore you, come into a gentleman’s house and saturate him and his possessions in this way. It is damned disagreeable,” he tells the ghost. Fair enough. But, “This is a bit of specious nonsense,” she counters, and soaks him. “You are a witty man for your years,” the ghost concedes, which prompts a riposte of, “Well, my humor is drier than yours ever will be.” It looks like the recurring deluge will do him in, until he hits upon a solution involving the transitive properties of water.

In Nelson Lloyd’s 1907 story “The Last Ghost of Harmony,” a man bemoans the times he lives in because there are fewer spooks about. According to the story’s narrator, “Harmony was a highly intellectual town,” and despite their once having been ghosts moving freely, in plain view, among the living, many had set sail—floated towards—more accommodating realms, given that empiricism was eroding what had been the town’s sense of wonder.

One of the town’s last ghost-loving locals was one Robert J. Dinkle, who returns as a ghost himself, post-death. The narrator happens upon him, and is greeted with, “I must appear pretty distinct,” which is said in a proud way, ghosts having egos, too. “Can you see me very plain? Don’t I show up good?”

“Richard Middleton's 'The Ghost Ship' is a story about a pirate vessel, in ghost form, manned by ghosts, that goes off course and lodges in a turnip patch in a quaint English village.”

When the narrator becomes less scared—after all, this was his mate—the ghost becomes less visible, which requires him to unleash a bellow worthy of a creature tormented in hell. Or the best he can muster, anyway. He does all of the “regular acts,” he says. “We always were kind of limited. I float around and groan, and talk foolish, and sometimes I pull off bedclothes or reveal the hiding-place of buried treasure.” But it doesn’t do him any good, and this ghost is having a post-life mid-life crisis. Screw these non-believers. The two team up for a declension of this tired old business of attributing things that go bump in the night to natural causes, with good old terror reasserting itself.

Which brings us to my all-time favorite ghost story, and, on certain days, my all-time favorite short story, written by Richard Middleton. He was a depressive who committed suicide at 29, in 1911. I mention this because it’s rare that you encounter any prefatory remarks regarding his story, “The Ghost Ship,” in which the person introducing the story does not say that it’s remarkable that a man in so much pain could write this.

Middleton made virtually no money, if any, with his pen; we don’t even know how he managed to live at times. His suicide note read that he was “going adventuring again.” He was a great writer. Raymond Chandler met him early in his own literary travels, read some of Middleton’s stuff and concluded—rightly, I would say—that he’d never be as good, and thought of giving up the whole writing dream altogether if someone as talented as Middleton couldn’t make it.

Middleton wrote exactly one book, an eponymous collection housing “The Ghost Ship,” a story about a pirate vessel, in ghost form, manned by ghosts, that goes off course and lodges in a turnip patch in a quaint English village. The narrator and the landlord of the field walk over to the ship to see what’s going on. Out steps the ghost-captain, on his quarterdeck, remarking, “I seem to have brought her rather far up the harbor.”

They don’t know this is a pirate ship yet, but they do know that the captain has the best rum they’ve ever tasted, and again we have concert between ghosts and humans, with some of the village idiots coming to think they’re ghosts, too, and eventually setting sail with the crew. The narrator and the landlord don’t know what to do, so they repair, several times, to the local pub, the Fox and Grapes, to mull matters. Everybody drinks.

The young ladies of the town start lusting for some of the ghost crew. The innkeeper gets pissed that his rum isn’t selling as well as the ghost rum. Some of the locals want to off themselves to join the crew. Eventually, the captain finds a favorable current, borne of the air, and sets sail, but the turnip field, forever more, bears a crop that has a rum-like aftertaste.

Some of the residents who set sail with the captain eventually return to town, rejoining the ranks of the community, as if nothing had ever happened, and everything that might have ever happened had happened, too.

How could you not wish your ghost stories to go like that? How, for that matter, could you not wish all the best things in life to go like that?

via The Daily Beast Latest Articles https://ift.tt/2tq1R9h October 31, 2018 at 05:17AM

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travelingnowhereandbeyond · 7 years ago

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A once famous journalist said (or was it a famous journalist who once said), “you digest your food better alone.” Whether that’s true or not, the concept of eating alone is a sticky one, especially while vacationing. Traditionally, eating on vacation is considered a shared, cultural experience. So, if you’re vacationing alone AND eating alone, you could be considered rebellious. (Which I fully endorse. Who cares what others think.) Of course we eat alone (and vacation alone) for many reasons.

In the end the act of eating alone can be a deeply spiritual, reflective, comforting, memorable experience, just as cultural, and just as valued as eating with others; it’s simply different. And if you have not eaten alone on vacation, I highly recommend it.

*A Mysterious Meal in Vilalba, Spain– After a long day of investigating my ancestral castle, Castillo de Andrade, in Pontedeume, Spain, I found myself searching for a quality meal in old town Vilalba, about a half hour south. At 7pm, quite early for Europe, I entered a traditional Spanish/Galician restaurant I found on TripAdvisor. They seated me in a corner booth on a wooden bench, across from a long bar, and left me to pour over the menu. My phone didn’t connect to the internet, so I asked my dark haired Spanish waiter what things were. He told me, but I was still confused.

So I took a deep breath and ordered some kind of meat, starting with an “l”, and when it arrived, I ate it. Covered in a white cream, accompanied by fries, and tasting like an organ meat of some sort, it wasn’t bad. But as I sat there in the tavern observing the couples, and friends who poured into the restaurant, I wished I wasn’t alone; I wished I knew what I was eating; I wished I had asked more questions; I wished I was enjoying it more. (A recently discovered photo taken during said meal reveals my meal to have been “lacon con grelos“, or Galician ham with turnips.)

Lessons Learned: (1.) Know what you’re eating; look it up, research, or ask. (2.) Eat before 8pm, if you want to avoid crowds, in Europe, which I did. (3.) It’s okay to feel alone. It’s natural to want human interaction when you’re eating! (4.) If you take a photo of your menu to later find out what you ate, remember to do that, hopefully not 6 months later.

The narrow street in Vilalba where the restaurant was located

The main church

Some beautiful buildings

*IKEA Hot dog in Hong Kong- “Hunger makes any meal taste good,” a famous nutritionist once said. Nevertheless, one should have an emergency food item when traveling. If you are unprepared, you may end up eating something less than savory and regretting it. Not that every meal needs to be a gem, but culture, quality, cost, and experience should be considered as basic standards. I always seek to eat something I cannot get “at home”.

So, a day of touring Hong Kong by trolley (with no backup food item) led me to a rash decision. I escaped and bounded into the IKEA. Little did I know though a good sized store, it only had a simple bistro selling hot dogs and ice cream. So, I had the best hot dog with relish and mustard I’ve ever had while standing by the condiment counter at 11AM in the Hong Kong IKEA. I felt it fill my empty stomach with the warmth of mixed meat as I watched families with tiny children. Teenagers and other tourists, I imaged they were, were milling around, and people with their goods ate on the fly, just as I was. I smiled and felt part of that community.

Lessons Learned: (1.) Familiarity (namely that of IKEA food and its setting) is a physical and emotional comfort I didn’t know I wanted or needed in a foreign land. (2.) A simple hot dog does tide one over til one can find a more culturally diverse meal. (3.) There’s no shame in joining other people in enjoying “comfort” food. *(Special note- it’s possible there was a full sized cafeteria/restaurant but I wasn’t able to find it.)

*Microwave Korean Food from GS25 in Busan, South Korea– GS25 is one of the leading convenience stores in South Korea. Think gas station store without the gas. It’s cheap, fast, great junk food. When I moved to South Korea, my younger brother who’d been there a year, told me about the cheap and tasty “lunch box” ready-to-eat meals. I quickly learned to love heating these up with olive oil on my stove and munching on them while watching a movie on my computer in my apartment.

So, on a soft March evening in Busan (a few hours by train from my apartment in Daejeon) I emerged from my airbnb apartment in the Haeundae district, intent on finding something to eat. It’s hard to find a Korean restaurant that will serve you by yourself and I wanted to eat and quickly move onto sightseeing on the beach. Conveniently, as it is, GS25 sat directly in my path on the lowest level of the apartment building. Of course they had my favorite ready-to-eat meal.

I bought it and retreated to the apartment to heat it in the microwave. Two things then happened as I ate the meal while watching a TV show on my laptop. 1- I realized it wasn’t as good without olive oil. 2- I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t as good as at home. Maybe it was the olive oil, maybe it was the stark, white apartment where I sat on the floor at the white table, but it was dry and not satisfying. BUT, it was still memorable, comforting, and efficient to get me on my way. To this day I have no idea what happened. Thankfully, I had it again at home and it was good again.

Lessons Learned: (1.) You can’t always replicate comfort food from home, so just enjoy what you have. (2.) Comfort is a relative term, sometimes just the smell and look of something is enough. (3.) It’s surprising how fast “home” becomes a relative term. (4.) Don’t discount the comfort of ready meals (or take out/in) when on vacation.

One of my favorites!

Oh, yes, these last for days

*Mole Enchiladas at The Red Iguana in Salt Lake City, Utah– Many years ago I flew to Salt Lake City to visit relatives then rent a car to drive to St. George (about 4 hours away) to investigate a possible job. Backstory aside, I went to The Red Iguana, because I remembered going years before with one of my older brothers when he lived there. It’s a notoriously great Mexican restaurant, famous for their mole, as well as other dishes. Lines wrap around the small building; you get the idea.

I sat at my two-top table in the middle of the busy restaurant at dinner time, armed with my notebook, intent on looking busy, and intent on enjoying my food. This was early into my dining/vacationing alone days, so I had not developed a thick skin, hence the need to look like a food critique. I scribbled poems and thoughts as I waited for my red and green mole and tried to ignore the couples and parties to my left and right.

I felt paranoid: certain they were watching, gossiping, judging, and curious, even concerned. Why is she alone? What is she writing? It’s sad to admit I cared what they thought. BUT- I enjoyed my friendly waiter who spoke with me in Spanish. I loved my mole which reminded of good times with friends, and I felt independent. That’s one thing about vacationing alone- you do gain confidence, if you do what scares you. And eating alone can be scary. I was not part of those people’s lives around me, and I didn’t need to be. I was having my own experience.

Lessons Learned: (1.) Yes, it’s nice to have company, but you don’t always need it. (2.) Scribbling forced me to consider my thoughts, reflect on my state, my transition, my move to a new state and new job, and my love of good Mexican food. (3.) Amidst a potentially embarrassing situation, I loved my meal because I loved myself. Even though it wasn’t completely comfortable. (4.) You do get better at eating alone.

*A Savory Western Meal in Pattaya, Thailand– My second night in Pattaya, by the beach at my “resort”, I ventured out for dinner on the main drag. Earlier in the day on my walk from the beach, I’d noticed a corner Italian restaurant with its open patio, lovely garden, and gated seating. But that night I hesitated outside the patio. The menu and prices were nice enough, but no one was there. I don’t recall the time of night, and I’m not sure about cultural dining times. Regardless, I was hungry and I wanted fish and they had it, so I got a nice table right in the middle of the garden. It was a breezy, humid night, pleasant.

As I waited for my food, I began to notice more than the weather and the “oldies” American music playing from the speakers- Bacharach, Sinatra, songs I love from home. Across the street was an open air bar with twinkling colored lights and five or six people standing outside talking, and laughing loudly. They were dressed in short skirts and dresses, tank tops, midriff showing, tight shirts, high heals. They were hard working women (and men), standing just outside the bar. I took interest immediately. When men in groups came by, they talked to them, even touched them or grabbed their hands. And were rejected respectfully. When men with families or women came by, they looked, but did not engage.

After men passed, they chattered, giggled, and acted like girls who liked boys. The pounding of their music, and excitement of their lives blended with my “classy” 40s to 60s American music, candlelight, nice table, clean garden ambiance. It created a safe juxtaposition, a place where I could observe a culture I knew only from movies. It struck me I should be appalled, feel physically and spiritually in danger, and even leave. But again, my environment seemed so opposite theirs and my meal pretty good, that I felt no danger, no guilt- nothing but curiosity. From a safe distance I admired these ladies, I’m not sure exactly why, perhaps their confidence, their friendships. But I did feel sorry for them too, but I knew nothing about their lives. If they had noticed me, they might’ve wondered why I was alone on a weekend at a nice restaurant. Maybe they would’ve felt sorry for me. Probably they wouldn’t have given me a second thought.

Lessons Learned: (1.) Sometimes the food doesn’t really matter. (2.) Talk about cultural experiences. (3.) Being alone allowed me to think and enjoy the meal, and everything else, free of anyone else’s opinions.

One day on my way to my Korean Medicine doctor in downtown Daejeon, South Korea, I stood at a stoplight. (Stoplights feel abnormally long in South Korea.) To my right I noticed a man in his business suit sitting on a wall, swinging his legs, enjoying a cup of noodles. He sipped it, scooped the noodles into his mouth with his chop sticks, and appeared oblivious to the busy street around him. Such pure joy was contagious. I couldn’t help but smile.

Food was/is one of the topics my students, of all ages, love. They can write and talk about their favorite foods- flavors, stories, meals, for absolute ever. Food is so much more than sustenance and a meal is so much more than a series of tastes. Our meals (especially in new environments on vacations) have the ability to transform us, to open us to new experiences, to link our senses to primal memories, to connect us to cultures and people, to comfort us while expanding our views, and to provide deep, life changing moments. We are indeed what we eat, in every way.

A burger king breakfast at Incheon International Airport in South Korea, before embarking on a couple months of travel in Asia and Europe. I wanted something “familiar” to set me off…

QUESTION: What meal(s) have made an impact while you were traveling, and why? Feel free to post your comments.

Eating Alone on Vacation, a Life Changing Act? A once famous journalist said (or was it a famous journalist who once said), "you digest your food better alone." Whether that's true or not, the concept of eating alone is a sticky one, especially while vacationing.

#advice #busan #culture #food #galician food #hong kong #hot dog #humor #IKEA #pattaya thailand #Red Iguana #Salt lake city #south korea #travel blog #vacation meals #vilalba spain

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cutefluffinstitch · 7 years ago

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Be careful what you wish for.

We start off this week in Buckhorn with the FBI group sitting in a room that’s very similar to the Black Lodge/ “waiting room.” Gordon Cole is scanning the room, it looks like he’s checking for bugs or something. Albert starts to tell Tammy about the Blue Rose group, how they were formed after the Blue Book department of the FBI was closed down in 1970 and there were more cases that needed to be answered. The name Blue Rose came from a woman who died in a case, and these were her last words. He further discusses how Chet Desmond, Phillip Jeffries, Albert and Dale were all members, and Albert is the only one that hasn’t vanished mysteriously. Because they haven’t taken on any members in a long time, they want to ask Tammy to become a member. She’s had fantastic test scores throughout her career and they feel like she would be a great fit. She is obviously very honored and accepts. Diane then comes in, and the way that she comes in through the red curtains is very strange, and she sits down with the group. They want to deputize Diane for some cash and the knowledge of what happened to “her friend Cooper.” Diane puts out her cigarette, and does a serious face, a double finger point and says “let’s rock.” I don’t know what exactly about this I liked so much, but I really enjoyed this whole scene.

Later we see Diane at the bar texting again. She gets a text that says “LAS VEGAS” and she replies “THEY HAVEN’T ASK ME YET.” Even later she’s back at the bar and she is remembering the coordinates from the photo of Ruth’s arm, and she types them in and as she zooms in, she sees that they lead to Twin Peaks.

Jerry is running in a field, still wearing the same clothes, he falls down, and hops back up and keeps on running. I’m just glad he’s finally out of the woods…but is he out of the woods?!

Sarah Palmer (Laura’s mom) is in the liquor store, and she’s getting a bunch of bloody Mary mix, a few bottles of vodka, and a carton of cigarettes. When she gets to the counter she notices some jerky hanging up behind the registers. Something about this really sets her off, and she starts asking questions that could be related to the jerky, but could also just be completely disconnected from this world entirely. She’s asking the clerk if she was here when they came, the store looks different, things have happened to her, and it’s almost like she starts talking to herself to get her keys and leave the store. She leaves and the clerks look at each other like “whaaaaaaat” and the boy clerk offers to deliver her purchase to her house.

A little later Hawk pulls up at the Palmer house, and he says that he’s just dropping by to see her. We get a few views of the ceiling fan, which was kind of an ominous sign in Fire Walk with Me. Sarah assures Hawk that she’s fine, and she knows he’s there because what happened at the store. There is a rustling type sound from inside the house, and Sarah says it’s nothing. Hawk makes sure to say if she needs anything to let him know.

In Las Vegas, Sonny Jim pulls Dougie Coop out into the yard, walks to the other side of the yard, throws a ball at him and it bounces off of his shoulder.

At the Fat Trout Carl sees a tenant who he stops and asks about what kind of work he does around the trailer park, and how he doesn’t get paid for that work. He also mentions that he heard that he’s been selling his blood. Carl gives him a fist full of cash, and says not to pay his rent this month. He doesn’t like to see people selling their blood to eat. Good guy Carl, being the greatest. Just don’t disturb him before 9:30 AM EVER.

We briefly see Miriam laying in a hospital bed, unconscious.

Ben Horne is at the Great Northern when Frank Truman comes in. Frank tells Ben that Richard is the one who ran over that boy. Ben is very upset about this, and Frank continues to say that he assaulted Miriam, and she’s in the ICU and needs surgery. Ben says he’ll pay for all of her medical expenses. He also brings up how Richard had several run ins with Harry, and asks how Harry is doing. Frank says he’s hanging in there. Ben also mentions that Cooper’s room key came in, and would Harry like to have it. Frank says yes, and it’s funny that showed up recently because he’s just reopened the case to do with Cooper. As Frank leaves, Ben has Beverly call the hospital and arrange to pay for her medical expenses. He then starts to tell Beverly the news Frank told him, and how Richard has never had a father, and how Ben’s father gave him a bike, and he really loved that bike.

Back in Buckhorn Albert comes to Gordon’s room, where Gordon seems to be telling a woman a dramatic story. Albert says that he needs to speak to Gordon alone, so Gordon asks her to wait for him at the bar. She leaves slowly, and by that I mean she touches up her make up seductively, she gives Gordon a bunch of cute little faces, she puts her shoes on, she stands up and pulls at her dress, she fixes her hair, she puts on her cardigan, she very very slowly leaves. Gordon mentions that there are over 6,000 languages in the world. He tells Albert that she’s in town visiting a friend of her mother’s who’s daughter has gone missing. She owns a turnip farm, and he said she will turn up soon. 😐 Albert asks what kind of wine Gordon is drinking and he responds “11:30.” The look on Albert’s face looks like you jerk, you know what I said, why are you doing this, I hate you so much. Gordon touches Albert’s shoulder and says that he’s worried about him.

We see Chantel and Hutch waiting in a van waiting on the warden. Chantel doesn’t want to torture the guy, she saw a Wendy’s on the way and she’s hungry. Hutch is really wanting to torture this guy, but she’s not into it. As the warden pulls up, Hutch shoots him twice, right as his son is running out the front door, and Hutch pulls the gun back in the window and says “Next stop, Wendy’s.” It’s the kind of scene that makes you laugh and then you’re like I shouldn’t be laughing, but you can’t help it.

We get basically a replay of Dr. Amp/ Jacoby, and he’s just pitching his shovels again. Nadine is still watching, still drinking this milkshake, still dressed the same, and says “it’s working for me.” I don’t want any shovels.

Suddenly, Audrey. She’s standing in a room with a ton of books and papers, and she’s looking at this man at a desk. She says that she wants to go out to look for Billy, he’s been missing for two days, maybe they should go to the Roadhouse. This guy, Charlie, is going on about how he’s tired, he has a deadline, he’s got a lot of work to do. She’s frustrated, she needs to go find him, she’s sleeping with him, and Charlie is just going on about being tired and it’s late. They talk about how Chuck stole Billy’s truck, but he got the truck back and didn’t press any charges. Charlie was supposed to call someone named Tina, and he hadn’t. Audrey wants to break their contract, and she’s calling him a slew of names and he says “please don’t speak to your husband that way.”

NO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THIS ISN’T COOPER OR BILLY ZANE’S CHARACTER YOU CAN’T BE MARRIED TO THIS GUY NOOOO! *dies*

😥

Charlie says that hey, he was supposed to call Tina, he’ll call her now. He calls her, and Audrey is us, she’s sitting there like okay, get to the point, hurry up, what is she saying. As he’s getting off the phone he’s obviously heard some heavy information and he says “I promise” then looks at Audrey like I can’t tell you what I just heard. KILL ME NOW.

We end the episode back in the Roadhouse. There are two girls in this booth that we seem to always end up at, and they’re talking about Angela who is possibly dating Clark. One girl says that he saw Clark with Mary two nights ago, and the other girl says that Angela is off her meds and she doesn’t know how Angela is going to handle that. Suddenly a guy named Trick comes in, and says how someone almost ran him off the road. He’s got the shakes from it, and he’s mad!

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ANY OF THAT LAST SCENE MEANS!!! Anyway…I think a lot of people were really bothered by this episode for a number of reasons. I’m not mad at it, but it was really difficult watching Audrey seemingly a prisoner or something. I also could have had some more Cooper in any capacity. And coffee. And pie!

If you’re enjoying my recaps and want some other opinions, I’ve been listening (and writing in every week!) to the podcast The Bookhouse Podcast. these guys are fantastic, and I really wanted to give them a shout out so they can get all sorts of numbers. Not sponsored, just enjoy it.

Until next time, happy sewing! 🙂

Twin Peaks: Let's Rock #cutefluffinstitch #twinpeaks #twinpeaksthereturn #recap #wordpressblog Be careful what you wish for.

#agent cooper #audrey horne #david lynch #it&039;s happening again #laura palmer #showtime #tv #tv review #tv shows #twin peaks #twin peaks the return

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