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slippinmickeys · 3 years

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Five Seconds (1/8)

This is the sequel to “Of the Eight Winds,” which began from a small simple prompt from Sunflowerdeedsandscience: “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn't cheat (because sorry that's not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.” That prompt took on a life of its own that became ‘Of the Eight Winds.’ This fic immediately follows the events of that piece — I would encourage reading it first if you haven’t.

This is not written in the same Rashomon structure as the original — it is absolutely linear. Hope that doesn’t throw anyone.

I’ll be posting the first two chapters today, and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also find it on AO3 here.

PROLOGUE

They say in the heat of the moment, you have five seconds to make a decision. Five seconds between right and wrong. Five seconds between life and death. As Mulder stood watching one gun pointed at his children and another pointed at an immensely pregnant Scully, five seconds seemed an eternity.

XxXxXxXxXxX

6 Months Earlier

She watched the house from the shadows. Occasionally from her car. It was harder to follow the woman as she worked at a secure government facility, but the man was easy. He had a small private psychology practice in a townhouse in Old Town. He usually ate lunch at a Panera near the office or brown bagged it from home.

The kids both attended a private prep school out in McLean. The girl drove herself and her brother most days. The boy would often stay late for sports practice (ice hockey, if the equipment was any indication) and the man would usually pick him up. Their lives were pretty routine.

After two weeks, she finally made an appointment with the man’s scheduling service and waited nervously in the outer office. Right on time, he opened the door.

“Olivia?” Dr. Mulder smiled at her, “come on back.”

She passed him through the doorway and settled into a plush leather couch.

He sat down in a chair across from her and crossed his leg, looking relaxed. Up close, she noticed that his hair was starting to grey at the temples, but he still looked fit, and conveyed an easy manner.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said, trying to calm her nerves.

“Of course,” he said, looking down at his notebook, “I see you were referred to me by Dr. Heitz Werber?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” he said.

She took a breath.

“I grew up here in DC. After grad school… My father worked for the State Department and I, uh, went into the family business.”

Dr. Mulder nodded, his expression neutral.

“I can imagine that’s pretty stressful work,” he said.

“It was,” she said, “I don’t do it anymore.”

He nodded again, waiting for her to fill the silence. She went on.

“The work I did… it hurt people. And I’m… I’m trying to make amends.”

His expression gave nothing away. She steeled herself, took a deep breath.

“Dr. Mulder, my name is Olivia Kurtzweil. Our fathers knew each other a long time ago. I’m here to warn you. You and your family are in danger. Your wife and her baby…”

His nostrils flared, but he maintained his composure.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out several pictures.

“I can prove it,” she said, “This is me and my father, this is me and your sister Samantha. And this is our fathers together.”

“I think you need to leave,” he said, his voice tight for the first time. He was not looking at the pictures.

She rose.

“There’s not a lot of time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it, set it next to the pictures, which she left on the office’s small coffee table. “Call me at this number. Soon. I’ll tell you all I can.”

With that she left, her heart hammering in her chest.

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington Cemetery May 2nd, 2018

Mulder descended the stairs quickly, the leather bottoms of his dress shoes scraping loudly on the dusty grit of the steps. The occupants of the underground lair were the perfect people to call when you needed information, but good housekeepers they were not.

He entered the code on the security box at the door at the bottom of the staircase, and the door swung open.

“Guys?” he called into the cavernous space once the door sealed shut behind him.

“In here!” he heard a muffled call from near the back.

He stepped around gunmetal shelves awash in circuitry and computer parts and turned right into the sanctum sanctorum of the place: the desktop on which sat the AMD Threadripper 3000. Two men were hunched over the screen, one sitting, one standing just behind him.

Grease-stained napkins were wadded up next to the keyboard and crinkled butcher paper sat nearby, sporting the red-splotched remains of marinara sauce and a few errant banana peppers.

“You want a meatball sub, Mulder?” came the nasally voice of the man standing, “We got extra.”

“I don’t relish the thought of being up all night with heartburn, Langly, but thanks,” Mulder said, and Frohike turned from the chair, his wispy hair now more white than grey.

“They’re from Gino’s,” he said around a mouthful, “you’re missing out.”

“Tell that to Gino,” Mulder said, “didn’t he die of a heart attack in ‘04?”

“His wife is still running the place, bursting with health,” Frohike said, and reached for a styrofoam cup.

“But she doesn’t eat the subs,” said Mulder, and swung into a nearby chair. “Where’s Byers?”

“Staying with Suzanne for the weekend,” Langly said, like he couldn’t imagine why.

“Is that safe?” Mulder asked. The Gunmen had been hiding out in a government-built safehouse under their own graves in Arlington Cemetery for more than a decade.

Langly shrugged.

The three men looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Mulder spoke again.

“What did you find?”

“Enough,” said Frohike, turning back to the screen. Mulder stood and walked up behind him.

Frohike tapped a picture on the screen.

“Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, “born December 4th, 1963, daughter of Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil and Ruth O’Brien Kurtzweil. Graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington DC in 1981, got a PhD in both Biology and Virology from Boston University in 1987. Employment records get kind of muddled after that, but it would make sense if she worked for the State Department, though what a Biologist/Virologist would be doing for State is troubling.”

Mulder leaned back. It was the same woman who’d been in his office earlier that day.

“And the pictures?” he asked, “of our fathers together? Of her and Samantha?”

“The real McCoy,” Langly said, “they don’t appear to be altered in any way. Sent them to Chuck Burks, too. He concurs.”

Mulder sighed heavily.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” Frohike asked, his tone serious.

“She came to my office today, Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, nodding at the screen, “she told me that Scully is in danger.”

“In danger?” Langly said, puzzled, “how?”

“Scully is…” Mulder paused, “she’s pregnant,” he said, and he saw both men’s eyebrows go up. “This woman told me that our family... that Scully and the baby are in danger.”

Frohike and Langly traded looks.

“We haven’t told anyone about the pregnancy,” Mulder went on, “and Scully’s OB is an old friend from med school that she trusts implicitly. This Kurtzweil woman knows about the baby and insists it’s in danger. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Firstly,” said Frohike, who stood and put a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, “Mazel tov.” Mulder smiled at him. “Secondly,” he went on, “it appears as though this woman is telling the truth -- at least about who she is -- I would talk to her. See what you can find out.”

“How’s Scully taking this?” Langly asked.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Mulder said, and the boys traded another look. “I didn’t want to scare her without knowing more.”

Frohike squeezed his shoulder again and then let his arm fall.

“Let us know, huh?” he said, “However we can help.”

Mulder nodded and drifted back toward the door, a ball of worry sitting heavy in his gut.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Where are the kids?” he asked as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“I had a good day, thanks for asking,” said Scully with a grin. She was loading the dishwasher and turned to look at him. Her face fell, turning serious. “The kids are upstairs. What’s wrong?”

“I had a patient come in today…” he started, and her features softened. She probably thought it was just empathy for one of his patients, a tough case. “Scully, she showed me a picture of herself as a kid. With Samantha.”

“What?” Scully said, standing up straight, “how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and moved past her and into the living room, making for the bookshelf that held old family photo albums. He pulled one out and skimmed through it. Pulled out another. Halfway through, something caught his eye and he flipped back a couple of pages until he saw it. A picture from the same 70’s-era party at his childhood home on the Vineyard that Olivia had shown him. There was his father standing next to Alvin Kurtzweil, and down in the corner, both wearing swimsuits and gap-toothed smiles, pigtails frizzy and wet, sat Samantha and a 7 year-old Olivia Kurtzweil.

He felt his breath leave him.

Scully had come up quietly behind him, put her hand on his arm.

“Mulder?” she said.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

He pulled the note Olivia had left with him out of his pocket. She picked up on the first ring.

“Olivia, this is Dr. Mulder,” he said. “We need to talk.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning at 9:00am, they found themselves sitting across their kitchen table from Olivia Kurtzweil, Special Agent Monica Reyes, ASAC John Doggett and Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

Scully was sitting, arms crossed in front of her defensively, at the head of the table. Reyes sat next to her, looking at Kurtzweil with an equal amount of curiosity and distrust. Doggett was too amped up to sit and paced through their kitchen. Skinner sat, quiet and still, looking as menacing as ever at the far end of the table.

Mulder felt a certain odd protectiveness toward Olivia, and couldn’t help but treat her a bit like a patient.

“Olivia,” he said calmly, “why don’t you start at the beginning.”

The tale she spun was as fantastic as anything they’d ever heard in their years on the X-Files. Olivia had been groomed from childhood to work on what she called “The Project.” When Samantha Mulder had been abducted, The Project had used her DNA to create alien-human hybrids. Throughout the years, these hybrids had been used by different factions of The Project to further their agendas in relation to a colonization project that Olivia said once threatened the world. She had fought with others to bring it down and now, The Project’s last ditch effort to resurrect itself lay in the cells of the child Scully was carrying.

“How was my father involved?” Mulder said, his voice like ice.

“Your father did everything he could to protect you and your sister,” Olivia said after a pause. “He was the person I initially approached when I became disenchanted. He and I worked together for years dismantling everything we could.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.

“You were at my father’s funeral a couple years ago,” he said, recognition dawning on him, “I saw you at his wake.”

Olivia nodded.

“He couldn’t save your sister,” she said, “but he saved you. And in the end, he saved me.”

“My sister,” Mulder said, his stomach feeling as though it were in his feet, “is she alive?”

“No,” Olivia said, “I’m so sorry. And that’s the problem. Your sister’s DNA was the only one that was able to create viable hybrids. Her DNA was the key. And the last living hybrid sacrificed herself before a rogue faction could get her. That rogue faction is after Scully and your baby for the DNA markers particular to your family.”

“Then why aren’t they after me?”

“The particular markers they’re looking for are rendered dormant after a baby is born. The genetic material they can use is only found in--”

Scully spoke for the first time, finishing Olivia’s explanation. “Embryonic stem cells from our baby.”

Olivia looked pained and nodded. “It’s their last, best hope for restarting the program,” she said.

“How do they even know about the pregnancy? We haven’t told a soul.”

“A hack on your medical records is my guess. HIPAA means nothing to these people.”

“I’m less concerned with the how and more concerned with the why,” Mulder said. “You say embryonic cells. That means they’re on a clock, right? Once the baby is born...”

“Destroy the umbilical cord. The placenta. Those cells are only found in a few places. Destroy anything they might be able to use. After that… you and your baby will be safe.”

“So no one else in our family is in danger?” Scully asked. Her eyes darted unconsciously to a family picture that was framed on the wall above Olivia. It was a candid photo, taken the year before when they had hired a photographer to take Lily’s senior portraits. In it, Mulder and Scully were holding hands, looking at their two kids who were laughing about something Will had said. They were all smiling and carefree. In the moment, it felt like a world away.

“I know the technology and the biology it draws from,” Olivia said, “I helped design it. Their only hope is getting their hands on the embryonic stem cells from your baby. If you were planning on getting an amniocentesis test -- don’t.”

“Why not?” Skinner asked, “why not just give them what they want?”

“Because they’ll never stop,” Reyes said.

Olivia shook her head sadly. “She’s right. They take and they take, and they don’t care who gets hurt or what is lost.” She looked to Mulder. “Your father and I worked for years to shut it down. Finish it. Hide your wife. Protect your baby. Once it’s born, you should all be out of danger.”

“Tell me about this rogue faction,” Doggett’s voice coming from the corner of the kitchen startled everyone.

“Mercs for hire,” Olivia said, “Only one of them that I know of is familiar with the working pieces of The Project. I don’t know him well. I only ever saw him in the periphery.”

“Do you have a name?” Doggett asked.

“I doubt it’s his real one,” Olivia said.

“We’ll take whatever you can give us,” said Reyes, who shot a look to Doggett.

“I only ever heard him called ‘Krycek,’” she said.

Mulder felt his gut drop.

XxX

“What do you think?” Mulder asked Scully, as they sat together around their empty dining room table. Doggett, Reyes and Skinner had left and it was nearly noon, the sun bright outside their windows. Nevertheless, the room felt cold. Mulder could feel anxiety press on him from all sides as though he were under water.

“I don’t know what to think,” Scully said, a hand resting unconsciously on her stomach, which had just started to push out. “Mulder, for almost fifteen years our lives have been ordinary, calm. After all this time…? It strains credulity.”

“Scully I would agree with you. But… some of the things we saw when we were on the X-Files… We know credible threats. This feels like a credible threat.”

“Do you really believe everything she said? About your sister?” He could see her skeptical reserve crumbling.

Mulder let that question sit in the air for several long moments. “Just tell me if the science checks out,” he finally said.

Scully huffed an almost amused sigh. “I couldn’t even begin to-” she started.

“Scully, you yourself were filling in the blanks of Olivia’s story. If what she says is true, does the science check out?”

Scully gave him a long look. “Yes,” she finally said.

He held her gaze, a feeling of overwhelming affection coming over him. “Scully,” he said quietly, “we have to get you somewhere safe.”

She looked down, added another hand to her abdomen so she was cradling it with both. On the countertop, there was a half drunk bottle of Deer Park and a single yellowing banana. Someone had left their iPhone headphones sitting in a semi-coiled loop, and there were crumbs in front of the toaster, dishes in the sink. They sat in the middle of a half-lived life.

“I won’t leave without you,” she finally said, “without you and the kids. We all do this together. If the threat is really what Kurtzweil says it is, I couldn’t bear the thought of them trying to use you or the kids to get to me.”

Mulder nodded curtly.

“I’ll go to the guys,” he said, “see what they can do for us. Skinner and Doggett and Reyes will do what they can to protect us, but I think given everything we’ve heard, it’s best to avoid… governmental oversight.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Scully said.

“We need to leave soon. We can’t wait.”

Apgar jumped on the table then, looking for affection. Scully, who normally wouldn’t tolerate a cat on any eating surface, reached out and pet the cat absently, her eyes far away.

“Where are we even going to go?” she asked.

#MSR #AU #Sequel #Of the Eight Winds #My fic #Fanfic

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thecrownnet · 4 years

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October 3, 2020

Series four of The Crown takes on Princess Diana: exclusive pictures and interviews Charles has found a wife, Andy’s got a racy new girlfriend and Thatcher’s coming for tea... Megan Agnew gets an exclusive tour behind the scenes of the most wild and lavish series yet

Lasers. That’s what helped Emma Corrin understand Princess Diana in the latest series of The Crown. When the cameras were rolling, she imagined that lasers were pointing at her, as if she were in a spy film or a bank heist drama. It was her way of imagining hundreds of people staring right at her. Lasers helped her with the iconic Diana head tilt. She pretended she was shying away from them.

Corrin could also draw on her own trajectory as a 24-year-old actress. Before landing her part in The Crown, she was an unknown. Suddenly “there’s a huge amount of pressure”, she says.

When I visit the set at Winchester Cathedral, which is pretending to be St Paul’s, the paparazzi arrive to catch Corrin pretending to be Diana. She’s dressed in a replica of the outfit they papped at the actual royal wedding rehearsal almost 40 years ago. Every time she moves between buildings and trailers, Corrin has to be shielded with umbrellas. Life imitates art imitates life.

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Almost every person Corrin has spoken to since getting the role has their own “Diana moment” — they might once have waved at her car in the street, been a pupil at a school she visited or knew someone who sat next to her at a dinner. Diana was one of the first celebrities to whom people laid claim. “Everyone has this ownership,” says Corrin. She was, and still is, the People’s Princess. But Corrin is trying not to think too much about it. Public expectation has been “overwhelming since the beginning”, she says. She wants to do Diana “proud”. “I know that’s strange and cheesy, but I feel like I know her.”

Emma Corrin as Princess Diana/ NETFLIX

The first television series of The Crown, which aired in 2016, was at the time the most expensive in history. Each series since has been estimated to have cost upwards of £50 million. The first two covered the first decade of Elizabeth II’s rule to wide acclaim, but series three — in which Her Majesty Claire Foy was succeeded by Olivia Colman — had mixed reviews. “The jewel in Netflix’s tiara has lost its shine,” said one. It was “okay”, said another.

Now, with series four’s reported £100 million budget eclipsing the Queen’s own sovereign grant last year of £82.2 million, The Crown is barrelling straight into the Eighties era of celebrity glamour and modern party politics grit. Peter Morgan, the show’s creator, is taking on two of the most controversial public figures of the past 50 years: Princess Diana and Margaret Thatcher. “The word ‘iconic’ is overused, but in the case of these two women quite justified,” Morgan says. Both have passionate fans and detractors. “Writing them was a bit of a high-wire act, but it was exhilarating.”

We meet Diana as a teenager, scampering around her huge family home in Northamptonshire. She is young and apologetic. The Prince of Wales, at that time dating her eldest sister, is rather distracted. A number of years later, Diana is leaving her relatively modest flat in Earls Court and her job as a nursery school assistant to move into Clarence House — but finds herself in solitude. Bored and lonely, 19-year-old Diana rollerskates down corridors to Duran Duran and sits all by herself in her chamber. One night, after finding out about Prince Charles’s affair with Camilla Parker Bowles, she gorges on puddings and makes herself vomit them back up.

Behind the scenes: the latest series of The Crown/ NETFLIX

*Spoilers*

It is a dark moment that Corrin wanted to get right. She listened to real-life accounts of people who had suffered from bulimia and talked with experts from the eating disorder charity Beat. Diana herself said that it was the most “discreet” way of harming herself: “Everyone in the family knew about the bulimia,” she said in recordings from the 1990s later made into a Channel 4 documentary.

“Drawing on my experience,” says Corrin, “not that I’ve experienced that kind of self-harm, but mental health in general, it can lead you down a very dark path when you’re struggling to cope, when things feel out of control. Diana very much doesn’t have the love and comfort and attention she needs from the man she loves or the family, who aren’t really acting as a family to her. There is a build-up of emotion she can’t deal with and making herself sick is a way of taking back control.”

When Josh O’Connor, who plays the Prince of Wales, first read the script for this series he thought: “Oh God, how can Charles be like that to Diana? But he feels wronged. He feels like she has an addiction to the spotlight,” he says. “I have to feel sympathy for him in that world. This is a family who have an intense inability to be emotional and he has inherited that awkwardness. In this series there’s an awful lot of Charles trying to explain himself and not being allowed to. He’s trying to say that if he can be with Camilla, then at least two of the three people can be happy. As it is, there’s three miserable people.”

The Crown works differently to other shows in that the “writers’ room” is not made up of writers but researchers, who constantly feed back to Morgan, the king of The Crown. It means that for each word eventually spoken on film, there are pages and pages of briefing notes. Annie Sulzberger, head of research, started this series by hiring a young team. “I wanted people who did not grow up believing one or the other [Diana and Thatcher],” she says. “You have to be curious enough and ignorant enough, I suppose, to write the kind of work we need.”

This series will span the Thatcher years — 1979 to 1990 — and will include the assassination of Charles’s great-uncle, Lord Mountbatten, by the IRA, Charles and Diana’s wedding, and the Falklands War. Once the team has laid out a timeline, Morgan picks out the events he wants to feature. The research team starts to hone in on each, getting increasingly “micro” in their investigations. In the making of this series, one of the team spent two weeks researching the label on a bottle of wine from which a character briefly swigs.

Dress rehearsal: Josh O’Connor and Emma Corrin act out Charles and Diana’s wedding run-through/ NETFLIX

As the show has progressed, the fact-checking work has multiplied, thanks to the tabloid journalism of the 1980s. “It’s not just about words being printed,” Sulzberger says, “but who wrote it. Diana will become very close with a journalist called Richard Kay and feed him information, and Charles’s team will do the same. So you need to start unpicking the biographies of all the writers in order to know that what you’re doing has some objectivity.”

Did the team speak to any of Diana’s family or friends? “No.” Do the producers give any material to the Palace to see beforehand? “No. We have no connection to them that would result in editorial shifts. These are real people, these are real stories and we are filling in the moments that aren’t recorded — private conversations, moments of reflection, philosophical moments.”

When I ask Morgan if it’s true that he meets high-ranking courtiers four times a year, he is keen to clear up that he doesn’t. “I have never had any discussions with anyone actively working at the Palace,” he says. “The two worlds, the royal household and The Crown, exist in a world of mutual deniability, which I’m sure is every bit as important to them as it is to us.”

Corrin, though, did speak to Patrick Jephson, Diana’s private secretary, who appears as a fictionalised character in this series. “I got a sense of her joy from him,” Corrin says. “He said she was so naturally happy. When she joined the royal family, she had come from living with flatmates in Earls Court and she was a very normal girl. Patrick said she was still full of that girlish silliness, very down to earth.”

The couple themselves at the real thing in 1981 MIKE LLOYD/SHUTTERSTOCK/REX

The executive producer Suzanne Mackie says that “particularly now” The Crown team feels a sense of responsibility “to living people, people’s children, people’s parents. Obviously what we don’t do is engage on a fact level with the royal family. We have a tacit understanding that they need distance from us and we need distance from them.”

It is a cold day in January and I am watching Charles and Diana’s wedding rehearsal in Winchester. About 75 per cent of the show is filmed on location around the world, over the course of seven months. The rest is filmed at the show’s base, Elstree Studios, just north of London.

Today in Winchester Cathedral there is a crew of 78 and a cast of almost 200. The sight is as epic as the show’s budget would suggest. Between takes, Corrin sits on the stone steps by the altar, scrolling on her iPhone with one hand and biting her fingernails on the other. Even before the clapperboard snaps shut, the resemblance between her and the princess is uncanny.

Sidonie Roberts, head buyer and assistant costume designer, has a timeline of photos of Diana covering the wall of her studio at Elstree. Roberts is devoted to the cause. She travels to Paris to buy buttons from the same shop the Queen’s dressmaker uses (it sells more than 30,000 types of button) and to Soho to rummage in basements for fabric. Last year she was in a Bangladeshi fabric shop in Brick Lane, east London, when she saw a roll of material right on the very top shelf. “It was still in its plastic, but I just knew — that’s Diana’s colour,” Roberts says. She got a ladder, climbed to the top, pulled down the fabric and bought it for £3.50 a metre. When Roberts got back to the studio at Elstree, she unrolled it and saw a stamp at the bottom: “The Lady Diana Collection, made in Japan.” Roberts did some research. It was real silk, from a collection made in the princess’s honour.

In the corner of the studio an assistant is gluing tiny pearls to Diana’s flat wedding shoes. She has been decorating them, exactly like the originals, for a day and a half. “We’ve had a long conversation about the size of those pearls,” says Roberts. David and Elizabeth Emanuel, who designed Diana’s original wedding dress, donated patterns to the show, which were used to make the new version. With its 25ft train, it took ten people to get Corrin into the dress. In the show it is seen in full, and only from behind, for no more than 15 seconds.

Paying their respects: Olivia Colman as the Queen and the rest of the royal family at the funeral of Lord Mountbatten/ NETFLIX

Corrin is masterful at inhabiting Diana’s coyness — hunching her shoulders towards her ears as she walks, the smirk, her intonation. Diana’s voice was the “polar opposite” of the royals’, says William Conacher, The Crown’s dialect coach. “She moved her jaw twice as much, so her voice was more forward, open, easier to access, and I don’t think it’s especially revelatory to suggest accessibility was her shtick,” he says. “She used a minor key that made her seem vulnerable. Despite the Queen’s and Prince Charles’s accents being ‘stiffer’ to listen to, I think it comes entirely naturally, whereas I find Diana’s voice more studied. I think she spoke to have an effect.”

What sort of research did Colman do for series four’s Queen? “Yeah, I don’t do research,” she says when we speak on the phone in the summer. “The research team on The Crown is a bit like the British Library. It’s extraordinary, and when they kick in, your computer can’t really cope with the amount of stuff they send you.” Was there something in particular that the team sent her that made things click? “No.” There is a longish silence. It seems Colman’s royal duty is waning. “They’ve got every image and film of the Queen ever made. I’ve also got three kids, so I can’t spend all my time going through all of it.”

As she wraps up a second series of The Crown — Imelda Staunton will take over for five and six — Colman knows that she would “really not like” to have the Queen’s job. “There are very few people who are forced into a job and have no choice about it,” she says. “She’s done it with dignity, for decades, bless her. It’s amazing.”

The funeral of Lord Mountbatten took place in 1979 BENTLEY ARCHIVE/POPPERFOTO/GETTY

If there were rumours of Elizabeth II being unhappy about the last series of The Crown, I can’t imagine she’ll be too chuffed about this one. Series four’s Queen is colder and more distant, and the effects of her duty on her children more obvious: Charles is heavy with melancholy, Anne feels unheard, Edward is portrayed as a spoilt bully and Andrew is dangerously arrogant.

Speaking of Andrew, there is a subtle nod towards recent events. At one point the prince discusses a young American actress he is dating. The actress had recently played a 17-year-old who must entertain several “old predators who seduce the vulnerable, helpless young Emily”. The real prince dated the actress Koo Stark in 1981, who had starred in The Awakening of Emily, which had a near-identical plot.

In series four, the pivotal relationship between the Queen and Margaret Thatcher begins well. They are respectful of one another as no-nonsense working mothers, but tensions arise — not least, over tea etiquette at Balmoral.

In preparation for her role as the Iron Lady, Gillian Anderson met Charles Moore, Thatcher’s biographer, as well as secretaries who worked with her. “The only way for me to go about sitting inside of her was to find the reason behind her actions — growing up, what she learnt from her father, how much she truly believed that she was the answer and as long as we all took the sour medicine now we’d be able to turn around this country, completely shutting her eyes to the people that she was turning out on the street.”

Anderson eventually “settled into” the body of Thatcher. “She walked very fast, always up ahead,” Anderson says. “She would power forward in front of presidents. With [Ronald] Reagan she would supposedly be alongside him, but was walking ahead. Always walking ahead of [husband] Denis, telling him to catch up.”

Thatcher’s barnet also features. In one scene she spends an asphyxiating four seconds hairspraying it in preparation for a showdown with the Queen. The hairdo took endless camera tests before Morgan was happy with it. “It essentially meant destroying it so it had an overprocessed ‘frothy’ quality,” says the hair and make-up designer Cate Hall. “To treat a wig so badly was against all of our instincts — they’re so expensive — but I’m grateful now that we went through the process with Peter, with him saying no, more, it’s not right, try again.”

Clash of the titans: Margaret Thatcher, played by Gillian Anderson, is filmed meeting the Queen, played by Olivia Colman, in a memorable scene from series four/ NETFLIX

Series five will have a whole new cast. Colman says she is “not the sort of person who keeps the shoes of a character they played 20 years ago”. But Helena Bonham Carter is going to miss Princess Margaret. “She does pop out [in everyday life],” she says. “The other day I was at some public event and there was the normal scramble of people and I just told them, ‘No, shut up.’ The finger came out, which is very her, and I said, ‘Shut up and wait. Don’t get hysterical.’ So I’ve got the bossy side of her.”

Originally Morgan said there would be two more series after this one. Then he changed his mind, describing series five as “the perfect time and place to stop”. Now there are two more again (“To do justice to the richness and complexity of the story,” he reneged). The show is creeping closer to the modern day. It is now said to be ending in the 2000s, spanning, perhaps, Charles and Diana’s divorce, the deaths of Diana, Margaret and the Queen Mother, the marriage of Charles and Camilla, and the teenage and twentysomething princes. “I want to end it close enough to present day to feel that we have completed a long journey and distant enough to feel historical,” says Morgan. “I have a specific incident in mind, but until I’ve actually written it and seen if it works, I can’t commit to discussing it.”

On set with Mackie, I mention Harry and Meghan. “Too often,” the couple posted on their Instagram page that month, “we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring.” Is it possible, I ask Mackie, for the royal family to humanise themselves while still justifying their existence as something mightier, more important, regal? “That’s where you go wrong, as a public figure, letting light in on the magic, especially as a monarch,” she replies. “You have to be an ideal. After years and years of that subjugation of self in order to put duty first, you, the essence of you, is buried somewhere. The Queen is a tiny little person inside many, many Russian dolls.”

Series four of The Crown is available on Netflix from November 15

#olivia colman #helena bonham carter #gillian anderson #the crown #the crown spoilers #tobias menzies #josh o'connor #emma corrin #princess diana #ben daniels #erin doherty #emerald fennell #charles dance #marion bailey #the crown netflix

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picnic-at-dreaming-rock · 3 years

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Top 5 New Books of 2020

A round up of the top 5 new books that I have read this year, full 2020 reading list found here

Warning for possible spoilers below the cut.

Please Don’t Hug Me - Kay Kerr

Erin is looking forward to Schoolies, at least she thinks she is. But things are not going to plan. Life is getting messy, and for Erin, who is autistic, that’s a big problem. She’s lost her job at Surf Zone after an incident that clearly was not her fault. Her driving test went badly even though she followed the instructions perfectly. Her boyfriend is not turning out to be the romantic type. And she’s missing her brother, Rudy, who left almost a year ago.

But now that she’s writing letters to him, some things are beginning to make just a tiny bit of sense.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I cannot stress enough how much I love this book. Growing up as an autistic teen girl, I really lack a lot of representation, both real and fictional, and this books is a huge step forward in remedying that. Written by an autistic woman (yes, this is an #ownvoices novel!), Please Don’t Hug Me shows autism in a new and beautiful light as to what is most commonly shown. Erin is no genius savant that is only autistic when plot relevant or has a lack of social skills used only for comedic relief, but instead a encapsulation of the ordinary and everyday autistic experience of just wanting to get through the day with as little meltdowns as possible while still maintaining your neurotypical facade.

The Dictionary of Lost Words - Pip Williams

In 1901, the word bondmaid was discovered missing from the Oxford English Dictionary. This is the story of the girl who stole it.

Motherless and irrepressibly curious, Esme spends her childhood in the Scriptorium, a garden shed in Oxford where her father and a team of lexicographers are gathering words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary.

Esme’s place is beneath the sorting table, unseen and unheard. One day, she sees a slip containing the word bondmaid flutter to the floor unclaimed. Esme seizes the word and hides it in an old wooden trunk that belongs to her friend, Lizzie, a young servant in the big house. Esme begins to collect other words from the Scriptorium that are misplaced, discarded or have been neglected by the dictionary men. They help her make sense of the world.

Over time, Esme realises that some words are considered more important than others, and that words and meanings relating to women’s experiences often go unrecorded. She begins to collect words for another dictionary: The Dictionary of Lost Words.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

One of my favourite parts about this novel is how perfectly it showed both misogyny and classism/elitism, and how they intertwined. Although it is set in the mid/late 19th century and early 20th century, there is this sense of relatability to it that I think I lot of people might be able to recognise. Williams deals with a lot topics that I don’t often see in other media, such as menstruation without fancy allusions or making it into anything other than what it is, pregnancy out-of-wedlock without it being seen as a character flaw on the woman’s part, and showing characters one might consider like a hag or spinster to be good people worth celebrating because of things that deem them lesser rather than despite it or not at all. One main criticism I do have with this book, however, is how it seems like William just adds tragedy for the sake of moving the plot forward/to add shock value or drama. I will admit, it did get me crying at some parts, it did get a little tedious and lack-luster to have the last half of the novel just be death after life-altering event after death after life-altering event.

The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I read this book for my advanced literature class earlier this year and it was a great choice on the schools part. Everyone in my class enjoyed it, even if a lot of us were crying by the end of the novel. The book itself is rich with literary techniques that enrich the actual reading if you are one of those people that like to dissect what they read. I think Zusak made a really good choice with having Death narrate, as well as how he tied in his own experiences/interjections in these mini vignette-type extracts which I found really enhanced both the overall atmosphere and environment. The only qualm I have is that there were a lot of questions left unanswered that made the story feel somewhat empty.

Picnic at Hanging Rock - Joan Lindsay

It was a cloudless summer day in the year nineteen hundred.

Everyone at Appleyard College for Young Ladies agreed it was just right for a picnic at Hanging Rock. After lunch, a group of three of the girls climbed into the blaze of the afternoon sun, pressing on through the scrub into the shadows of Hanging Rock. Further, higher, till at last they disappeared.

They never returned.

Whether Picnic at Hanging Rock is fact or fiction the reader must decide for themselves.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I watched the Foxtel miniseries first a couple years and thoroughly enjoyed it and sought out the novel very quickly afterwards. I will be honest, I picked the novel up first around 2018/19 and dropped it until earlier this year when I reread/finished it and loved it. Lindsay’s ability to create this perfect and constant juxtaposition between the natural Australian bush and the intruding colonialism is really amazing and adds this interesting aesthetic that the academia community on this site seems to enjoy. There is also a really interesting dynamic between the female characters (which is most of the characters, to be fair) and they feel complete and authentic, something that doesn’t always exist in other works of literature. There is also one canon queer character, but there is so much subtext in the novel for so many other characters that it feels purposeful. All in all, this is the gayest straight book I ever read.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capital, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to outcharm, outwit, and outmaneuver his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute.

The odds are against him. He's been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low. Their fates are now completely intertwined -- every choice Coriolanus makes could lead to favor or failure, triumph or ruin. Inside the arena, it will be a fight to the death. Outside the arena, Coriolanus starts to feel for his doomed tribute... and must weigh his need to follow the rules against his desire to survive no matter what it takes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Hunger Games was one of the series in primary school that rocked my literary world (joining the ranks of The Great Brain, Harry Potter and The Books of Beginning) and helped inspire my love of reading, and when I heard about a prequel I was over the moon with nostalgia. I found it a couple days after its release at Target for $16 and I loved it. I finished it in about a week and I could barely put it down. I loved reading how the hunger games came to be and how they ended up the way they were, as well as advancing Collins’ previously established and incredible world building. The book also adds upon the themes in the original trilogy of government corruption, classism, elitism, individualism and propaganda, but from those that benefit from it (e.g. Snow) instead of those that suffer (e.g. Katniss). I have seen some criticism from people about not liking it being from Snow’s perspective but I personally think that it was the perfect choice, as no other character’s story would be able to add to the story in such a meaningful way.

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diifacto · 4 years

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Saw your post about the hunger games and i completly agree. Anyway you said there wasn't really a love triangle and now I'm curious what you mean with that? I mean like imma start following you anyway now so i won't miss it when you talk about this, but...

I’ve gotten a lot of questions/comments like this one on the statement I made in my last Hunger Games post about the series having no real love triangle, so here’s me (finally) explaining my reasoning.

It was really hard to organize my thoughts in a cohesive, complete way, as I’ve never actually organized my arguement on paper—just verbally, usually yelling (passionately) at my sister—so I’ve split them up into categories based on which aspects of the novels I’m discussing.

First Impressions

Beginning, as all things do, with first impressions. The Hunger Games is, first and foremost, categorized as a YA novel. Now, I love YA. I’ve been reading YA all my life and will probably continue doing so for the rest of it. But there are a ton of tropes/patterns found consistently through just about every YA novel out there, just as in any other genre—sci-fi has spaceships, blasters, and aliens; fantasy has monarchies, dragons, and curses; and YA has love triangles, rebellions, “bad boy” boyfriends, etc. Obviously, this is a gross generalization, but you know what I mean—when Katniss introduces Gale as “the only person with whom I can be myself,” and he checks off the attractive and male boxes on top of it, anyone who’s ever read YA has alarm bells going off in their head: Love Interest Detected.

But, before anything can happen with Gale, we’re heading straight into the Games, where we are confronted with yet another possible love interest. Peeta, Katniss’s competitor—but fake, star-crossed lover? And they have history from back in District 12? We have ourselves a second Love Interest, and therefore we’ve got ourselves a Love Triangle!

(Ignore the Games, of course. The oppressed, impoverished, desperate state of the districts under the Capitol’s control. The children being sent to die for their amusement. The two sixteen-year-olds doing anything they can to stay alive one more day. No, we’ve got some romance on our hands!)

And isn’t that it? Readers go into The Hunger Games, are introduced to these two young, attractive men, who obviously have feelings for Katniss, and whom Katniss depends on (we’ll dig into the significance of that later) in return—and understandably assume this’ll blossom into a plot point. And it does, but not in the way readers are expecting. Suzanne Collins herself never portrays Gale and Peeta as opposing love interests; rather, she uses them to represent opposing worldviews, a huge choice Katniss has to make in Catching Fire. What readers are expecting to happen, though—Love Triangle, Katniss choosing one of the boys, Team Peeta or Team Gale, etc.—can get in the way of how they perceive what Suzanne Collins is really trying to say.

Katniss’s “Choice”

I’d like to present a word to you: juxtaposition. I learned it in English class, it’s fun to say, and it means, according to Google, “The fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.” I think it describes love triangles pretty well; after all, isn’t a love triangle just two, different people placed in the same situation, each with their respective pros and cons? I also think it describes Gale and Peeta’s characters pretty well; except instead of Suzanne Collins juxtaposing them based on their looks, general atheleticism, and by who remembers Katniss’s birthday, she aligns them with two possible futures for Katniss, and two different beliefs.

A life with Peeta means a lifetime of keeping her head down, following the path the Capitol has set for her, living in fear and suffocating oppression, hoping the spark will die out. A life with Gale means the opposite: taking it to the Capitol, rebelling against the Games, turning the spark into a flame and hoping everyone she loves survives the fire.

This is the choice Katniss makes in Catching Fire. When she kisses Gale after he’s been whipped, it’s not because she’s coming into any newfound feelings, it’s because she’s made her decision—to stay and rebel against the Capitol. And in this choice, a life with Peeta is of the Capitol’s invention, and a life with Gale is only another way to rebel.

That’s all there really is to Katniss’s “choice.”

Dependence

“But Margaret,” you say, “Katniss does have feelings for Gale and Peeta in return.” Oh, sure. I won’t argue there—there’s a reason, aside from them being superficially perfect Love Interest archetypes, that both these boys themselves do appeal to Katniss. But these “feelings,” this reason, aren’t/isn’t inherently romantic.

After Katniss’s father died, Collins depicts how Katniss’s mother fell into an incredibly lethargic state, sick with sadness, and effectively abandoned eleven-year-old Katniss to deal with her own grief and keep the family alive, all alone. Understandably, this experience has kept Katniss from trusting easily or becoming too dependent on people, lest they do the same and leave when she needs them. For the most part, Katniss lives independently, relying on no one for support, not accepting help. But why, when people argue that Katniss does have feelings for both Gale and Peeta, do I have to admit that while I disagree overall, there is something there Katniss doesn’t let herself feel for anyone else? What makes these two boys different from everyone else in The Hunger Games?

Simple: they’re the only two people Katniss (reluctantly) lets herself depend on.

When discussing Gale’s popularity among the girls at school, Katniss mentions that it makes her jealous, but not for the reason people think. “Good hunting partners are hard to find,” she says, 1. acknowledging Gale’s desirability, 2. making her lack of romantic interest clear, and 3. admitting she relies on him as a hunting partner, and feels threatened by the idea of losing him. And of course she does—especially since Collins shows us that it isn’t just Katniss herself depending on Gale; after the reaping it will be Prim, who Katniss describes as the only person in the world she’s certain she loves, and her mother. Without Gale, and with Katniss heading off to the Games, she has no way to ensure Prim’s safety. Thus, Katniss is incredibly dependent on Gale.

Peeta comes later, but equally as necessary; offering Katniss safety through their star-crossed lovers strategy, and, later, an understanding of the Games she can’t get from anyone else. Katniss, someone so scared of depending on people, has ended up depending on these two boys for different things. Gale, to protect her family, her home, to offer her freedom from the stifling nature of the Capitol and the Victor’s Village; and Peeta, to offer her understanding and freedom in a different way, from the dreams, from the arena, from the pressure of keeping everyone alive.

So when people counter my opinion that Katniss never had any romantic feelings for either Gale nor, initially, Peeta (we’ll break that “initially” down, don’t worry), I’ll give them that, yes, Gale and Peeta got something from Katniss no one else did: trust. And trust is, of course, a fantastic base for a healthy, romantic relationship. But it doesn’t become one in Hunger Games. Katniss loves Gale, and she loves Peeta, I can’t argue that. But that love isn’t romantic.

Debts Owed

This will be very brief—just something to think about, to go along with my analysis of Katniss’s dependence.

I need to acknowledge that, while my arguement is that Katniss never had any definitively romantic feelings for either Gale or Peeta, they definitely did for her. And she knew. So, just for a moment, I’d like us to consider the thought process of someone who has never, ever, let herself depend on anyone else—depending on someone who obviously wants something more from her?

Do you think she may feel like she owes something to this person, as thanks? Do you think she might be afraid, if they weren’t to get what they want, that they might leave? Do you think that, even if she didn’t have any romantic feelings for either of the two, she might kiss them, just in case?

I’m not saying this is the case in Hunger Games, but as I was writing up “Dependence,” it occurred to me: what would that really do to a person? And I just wanted to bring it up for discussion. When Katniss made her choice—rebellion—did she have to seal that choice with a kiss? Or was that her way of ensuring that yes, she was picking rebellion, and Gale was the rebellious choice, and yes, this kiss, this promise, will keep him by my side.

Was Gale Ever Really A “Contender”?

Let’s tie the frayed ends of “First Impressions”/“Katniss’s ‘Choice’”/“Dependence”/“Debts Owed” together. If you’ve made it this far, you’ve an inexhaustible well of patience, and I applaud you.

Remember when I added that “initially” when discussing Katniss’s lack of romantic feelings for Peeta? While I’m still firmly on the side of Katniss ending up single—at least for a few years, while the poor girl recovers and figures all the shit you’re supposed to understand in your teens, and when you’ve been through a war, out—of both “choices,” of course she ends up with Peeta. Why? Well.

Despite the “choice,” despite dependence, despite all the evidence laid here on the contrary, despite all that, if you still think there’s a love triangle in Hunger Games, explain to me this: you need two love interests to make a love triangle—and was Gale ever really a contender?

Let’s walk through it. Right from the beginning, immediately after Suzanne Collins introduces Gale, she has Katniss go through the steps discussed in “Dependence”; acknowledge desirability and attractiveness, state her disinterest romantically, and move on. Already, sweeping any suggestion that Katniss may have some unspoken, romantic love towards Gale. Not to say it couldn’t develop—but it doesn’t.

Catching Fire is where the boys are perhaps juxtaposed the most, with Katniss’s “choice” coming into play. Remember what I said about debts owed? Gale continues to push Katniss’s boundaries, confessing his love, pressuring her, even after she’s expressed her disinterest in love right now (amid all this death and rebellion, a perfectly fucking normal sentiment) and confusion around the subject. Not only that, but he insults Peeta, Haymitch, and those involved with the Games (ex. Cinna, Effie, Katniss’s prep team) by lumping them in with the Capitol, and while the latter is a fair judgement, he doesn’t listen to Katniss when she tries to defend them and explain they’re rebelling in their own way, same as him. Gale in Catching Fire begins his “downwards spiral,” as he turns everything black and white, shunning Katniss when she doesn’t agree 100% and accepting her back with open arms after she kisses him.

Peeta, on the other hand, understands the gray area. He listens to Katniss, and although he’s getting exactly what he wants—a relationship with Katniss, a life with Katniss—he takes no joy in it because he knows it isn’t what Katniss wants. Remember after their proposal, on the Victory Tour, when Katniss asks Haymitch why Peeta’s not happy, as this was what he wanted? Haymitch tells her it’s because he wanted it to be real. And that’s true for Peeta throughout the whole trilogy; he truly cares about Katniss’s wants, tries his hardest not to pressure her, and is genuinely a continuous source of support. He rebels, the entire time, in his own quiet, calculated way; with the money in District 11, with the “baby bomb” in the interviews.

Here’s a juxtaposition for you: Peeta’s love for Katniss isn’t conditional; Gale’s is.

For proof, just look at Mockingjay. Specifically, look at—spoilers—Prim’s death.

Everyone knows that girl is the most important thing in the world to Katniss. All of District 12 knows it, President Snow knows it, President Coin knows it—hell, regular, average citizens of the Capitol know it. Everyone knows there is nothing, nothing in the world that could make Katniss put Primrose in danger, even at her own expense. Katniss would rather die than have Prim get hurt, and anyone close to her, who loves her, knows damn well that’s what she’d want.

So when Gale’s bomb goes off, delivering the final blow to the Capitol, at the expense of so many innocent lives, at the expense of Katniss’s sister—there was no love for Katniss there. There was absolutely no consideration, no respect for Katniss. There was just violence, and the hungry, desperate need to win this war, to rebel.

I could never say that Katniss and Gale weren’t a great team. I could never say they weren’t good, lifelong friends—I mean, starting out. They were fantastic hunting partners, further shown in Mockingjay, when they started hunting people instead of deer or turkey or wild dogs. But they grew apart, after Katniss changed in the Games and Gale changed in the rebellion, and there was never, really, the chance of anything romantic between them. Katniss depended on Gale to, above all other things, protect her sister, and he didn’t, so she stopped depending on him. And there wasn’t anything left.

That’s what I mean when I say, even if you think Katniss had real feelings for Peeta—and they do end up together, so even if I don’t agree with it, okay, alright, maybe it was Suzanne Collins’ intention—there’s still no love triangle, because Katniss never had feelings for Gale. And even if, maybe, maybe some would’ve developed—we’re getting into pure hypotheticals here—his character never would’ve been a real option for Katniss. They changed too much, and grew too far apart, and there would have been absolutely no chance for him after Prim.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I’m sorry. I’m more cohesive and intelligent verbally. Most of the time. Promise.

In conclusion, there is no love triangle in Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games. Rather, there are two boys who have feelings for the same girl, and this girl, who never depends on anyone, depends on these two boys for different things, and has to make a huge, horrible, irreversible choice, and somehow it ends up attaching itself to these two boys. And that’s really all there is to it.

#booklr #book blog #opinion #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #gale #peeta #love triangle #it’s not actually a love triangle and here’s why #katniss should’ve ended up alone #fiction #katniss everdeen #suzanne collins #young adult #sorry this took so long I’m an unproductive mess #I swear I’m more cohesive in person #usually whilst yelling at my sister #book review

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Alrightttt, I’m on a roll so we’re going onto chappy five 🥳🥳🥳😎😎

I know the movies made the Capitol — re: basically only Effie and maybe Caesar — have those ridiculous made up accents but .... I actually feel like the description of the Capitol accent in the book is supposed to be like the Kardashians or Paris Hilton’s voice. 🤷🏼‍♀️

“Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s. no wonder it's impossible not to mimic them.” Like this is a pretty good description of how Kim Kardashian and her sisters talk. And Suzzy C did say she was inspired by the juxtaposition between war news footage and ridiculous reality television shows so... I think my theory of the Capitol all talking like they’re on the Real Housewives of LA is pretty valid.

Just imagine Paris Hilton as Effie and Nicole Richie as one of her preps

Lolololol this whole section of waxing is reminding me to go get my legs waxed 😭😭😭 straight up calling me out here, Suzanne

I like how Katniss says her stylist “apparently has no interest in seeing her until the prep team has addressed obvious problems.” Like you can tell from her narration she was expecting to feel the same was about Cinna that she does about Effie and her prep team.

The “gritty loam that takes off dirt and three layers of skin” is probably just a strong exfoliator 😭😭😭 my girl knows nothing about quality skincare 🤧🤧 someone build a Panem Sephora

She mentioned them waxing her underarms.... girl, did you have hairy armpits before this? Idk why this revelation is new to me

“Grease her down!” Just sounds wrong 😅😅😅😅 I need to stop being annoying omg I’m like a twelve year old

Hmm it’s funny to me that Katniss refers to Octavia as plump. You’d think in a place like the Capitol body image and weight would be very important. Unless it’s like back in the old, old days when being overweight was a sign of wealth. Which would make more sense so this was an unnecessary thought process curtesy of Samantha

Katniss faking a smile and thanking her prep team shows she does know how to play the game and fake it better than she says.

So ... okay, hear me out, I’m not trying to get over the top or make this into something it’s not but ... the whole stylists / Cinna coming into the room and staring at her naked is a little weird. Especially considering Cinna isn’t Lenny Kravitz who’s like a bit older than her but actually like a twenty-something year old dude.

But okay, here’s the thing I was getting at ... Cinna’s one of the best people in this series and you can’t deny that. Even if you find him boring, he’s still one of Katniss’ closest people. Also he’s probably gay. But like ... what about the other stylists? I don’t wanna be that person who makes everything more than it is, but like, this scene just sounds like a perfect opportunity for some Capitol creep to assault a teenager idk I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill just ignore Samantha okay.

That’s nice that he complimented her mama though 🥰🥰🥰

So Katniss calls District Twelve the least desirable district but ... doesn’t District Eleven suck too? Like she also later says District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest but doesn’t she also say Rue is worse off than her and Prim? Make up your mind, Suz.

Cinna claims he asked for District Twelve but did he really get an option? 😅 If it’s his first year and Katniss claims the newbies get them anyway 🤷🏼‍♀️ Samantha is once again, reading too much into this.

Awww, Katniss is thinking about how long it would take for her to assemble this fancy meal at home 🤧🤧🤧 it would take her days and the Capitol just has the necessary resources at their disposal and they just takes it for granted. And yes, I’m aware this is supposed to be calling all us readers out who take so much for granted I know. We’re the Capitol.

“How would I spend the hours I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by?” It’s honestly so sad but so vital to her character that Katniss has zero hobbies or real free time. Her life is about surviving. She doesn’t get to live or enjoy very much of her time. She dedicates everything to keeping Prim — and her mother — alive, sacrificing everything a teenage girl should be doing. Sacrificing even the things the other girls in her world get to do. She mentions the merchant girls and the Seam girls who are more experienced romantically and sexually and socially than her. Because she doesn’t get to be a kid or innocent or even happy, in order to focus on her and her family’s survival. And the things she does enjoy, like spending time with Gale or dancing with Prim (mentioned in Mockingjay) she downplays in case they’re taken away, because nothing good is secure in her eyes. 🥺🥺🥺

Okay but what did Katniss’ facial expression give away that Cinna knew exactly what she was thinking? Or is she just less emotionless than she and Haymitch both claim? Ironically I think they’re the only people who call her emotionless which can easily be chalked up to their self-hate and terrible self-esteems.

Katniss is so afraid they’re gonna make her be naked for the parade 😭. Honestly though they’re children that’s so creepy that they’re even allowed to make 15/16/17 year olds be naked in a parade. I mean I know they kill kids every year but isn’t there like child pornography laws in Panem? 😭

“You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?” Is so foreshadowing 😭😂😅😎 Caesar Flickerman’s voice “Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

Honestly though Cinna is smart to make Katniss recognizable in the arena by leaving her with simple makeup. I know and the sky is blue we all know this already beating the dead horses until the farmer comes home.

“It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.” It’s true though 😅😅😅😭😭 he was always a rebel. I actually think he may have asked for District Twelve after Katniss volunteered, because he saw the potential in her. Poor Peeta. Baby, I’m rooting you for even if no one else is.

Also I always found it a bit .... curious? That Peeta had a female stylist and Katniss had a male one? Not just because of the required nudity, you’d just think men would do better as a boy’s stylist and a woman would make a better girl’s stylist. So yes, my whole Cinna was interested in District Twelve because Katniss seemed like a good symbol for a rebellion idea seems very plausible.

I know I know I know I read wayyy too much into this stuff sometimes a cigarette 🚬 is just a cigarette 🚬

Katniss being relieved when Peeta shows up 😭😭😭 because even if she won’t admit it and even if she won’t let herself trust him, she still sees him unconsciously and completely against her will as a comfort because they’re in this thing together in a way, even if they’re supposed to try and kill each other

And honestly, it’s such a like... relatable feeling? To feel alone and nervous and uptight and then someone who you recognize — even if you maybe aren’t even friends with but you at least know — shows up and you just instantly feel less alone. I’m totally looking at this through shipper goggles and I’m not even ashamed you all knew who’s blogging you were reading ight? 😂🤣🤷🏼‍♀️

“He should know about fire, being a baker's son and all.” And he’s gonna learn a lot more about it when he falls in love — for real, falls in love, not a childhood infatuation — with the girl on fire. 🥰🥰🥰

But also, I love this particular line on a reread because it totally is an indicator towards their future. Like Peeta knows about fire, he’s experienced with how to handle it, and later on, he becomes the only person who truly comes to understand Katniss, who represents fire, in a way that no one else could ever imagine.

Hmmm, Katniss’ point of view here, talking about how Portia and Peeta’s team seem all giddy and air-headed and it’s only Cinna who seems reserved makes me rethink my previous imaginings of Peeta’s stylist. Maybe she’s just a Capitolite idiot and nothing like Cinna. And my baby got a raw deal here then too. Good thing Haymitch loves him more. Just kidding 😅😅😅

But also I wanna know why Cinna is hesitant to accept congratulations for his and Portia’s idea? Wasn’t he at least lowkey excited about it when he pitched it a page ago?

Their horses are coal black 🐴 😅. I like that they went the whole nine yards with the theme. Nothing but the best for the kids on Death Row.

Aww Katniss asking Peeta what he thinks about being set on fire is so sweet and pure for some reason. I just find their commodore here cute ok

“I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine” this is literally their first friend type of interaction and it’s so pure y’all leave me be I’m emotional for them

🙃 Also lowkey reminds me of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Everyone look away ok I’m sorry

Peeta’s shady/annoyed Haymitch comment and Katniss’ joke at his expense 🤣🤣😂🤣😂😂🥲🥲☺️🥲🥲 they’re bonding it’s so presh

“And suddenly we're both laughing.” I hope they laugh a lot together post-canon 🥲🥲🥲. If they can make the other laugh during their terrible circumstances, then they can make the other laugh anywhere. 🤧 Except in Thirteen because he’s hijacked and she’s certifiable and they’re both so used and abused and 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay I have to say, Suzanne Collins really builds up a lot for certain events and then just like grazes over the actual action of said event? Like she builds towards the tribute parade but then kind of rushes through off the actual event itself? It’s a common theme in her writing. And I don’t like it at all ngl.

Oh wait she doesn’t actually rush the parade events the paragraph before just looked like she was about to I jumped the gun 🤣😂🤭 but what I said is still completely true for many events in these books sorry not sorry

I’m definitely reading too much into it but the fact that District One — the favorite of the Capitol — gets snow white horses and District Twelve gets coal black horsies kind of ... seems to imply something .... 🤭

Cinna just lets out a sigh of relief “it worked” like ... way to fill your tributes with hope, dude. “Yeah, you’re totally safe, don’t be scared-OH THANK GOD THAT WORKED I wasn’t actually sure you wouldn’t blow up.” But actually this answers my previous inquiry about why he seemed hesitant I guess he wasn’t even sure this wouldn’t burn them up that’s nice 🤭🙃

It’s a literal trial by fire *cue drum hit* 🥁 aww, I just cracked myself up 😭

“Then he gently tucks a hand under my chin. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" This is caught halfway between being very Capitol-y and very father-brotherly and idk which way to take it but it’s kind of cute 🤭

“For the first time, I look at him and realize that ablaze with the fake flames, he is dazzling.” This is such a significant line because Katniss isn’t saying Peeta is technically good looking (like when Haymitch said they were decently attractive) or someone else thinks he’s good looking (i.e Gale, her mother and lowkey Finnick) but she’s saying she herself thinks he’s attractive. Girl, your crush is showing.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," says Peeta.” I’m sure Cinna actually did say that but this just seems like a very good opportunity for Peeta to hold the hand of the girl he has a massive crush on. 😭😭😭

Okay Cinna gave a thumbs up so he actually was saying that but can you imagine Peeta’s excitement right now?

I mean, yeahhhh, there’s the certain death looming over him too but like live in the moment, babe. 🥰😘🤗👌🏻

I like that Katniss says the crowd is at first like 😳😳😳 before they start cheering like they’re thinking “what are these backwoods, hillbilly kids doing this year?”

“At first, I'm frozen, but then I catch sight of us on a large television screen and am floored by how breathtaking we look. In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates our faces” okay they both have to be pretty naturally attractive people objectively, because you illuminate my face without much makeup and no one is gonna be cheering.

“Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you! I hear Cinna's voice in my head. I lift my chin a bit higher, put on my most winning smile, and wave with my free hand.” I wonder what the true difference is for Katniss between Cinna and Effie saying this to her? Maybe it’s that Effie is just outright mean to her sometimes whereas Cinna shows her nothing but kindness from the start and expresses sympathy and understanding? It’s probably that he’s already earning her trust versus Effie who’s just cruel I’m not over her comments on the train ok

“I'm glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.” Right from the start, Katniss refers to Peeta as solid and steady. Idk, I feel like this is something that the movies really misses along the way. Katniss wasn’t always strong or confident at all and Peeta, at least publicly, exuded those qualities pretty well. Samantha’s complaining again ™️ 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

Also this is just outright foreshadowing how Peeta will eventually become her rock. Or that he will be soon painted a rock ... pick and choose which way you wanna go with this. 🤷🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️😅🤣

“As I gain confidence, I actually blow a few kisses to the crowd.” Okay, see I feel like Peeta really gives Katniss confidence in herself. If he’d been there in District Thirteen and they’d done propos together, she probably would have been a thousand times better.

But also this makes me think Katniss actually has it in her to be a charismatic, confident, alluring celebrity. She just chooses not to. 🤗🤗🤗

But this also reminds me of “She has no idea the effect she can have” okay imma move on and stop focusing on every little detail

I say that every chapter 🤧😅

“The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can't suppress my excitement.” Say whatever you want, Katniss is still such a girl underneath it all. She gets excited over people liking her and cheering her on. And I know it’s because it increases her chances of getting sponsors but still

Honestly Peeta trying to showcase Katniss and let her take the spotlight is so selfless and indicative of his ultimate plan to help her win but also ... I can see how Katniss would believe it’s too good to be true and he’s messing with her. That he’s just playing the game to earn her trust, get her guard down and manipulate her later.

See, Peeta is actually framed at the start like the typical, standard YA love interest turned villain. In majority of YA books, at this point the boy is kind and sweet and helpful to the girl until she trusts him completely and then he turns on her and uses everything she gave him to destroy her. But the difference is, Katniss refuses to truly trust him and she is guessing his game incorrectly at every step. And then it’s revealed that it was never a game and he truly isn’t messing with her and everything he’s done that’s seem too good to be true and not even remotely plausible has actually been genuine and heartfelt and that, my friends, is why Peeta is above all other YA love interests. Because Everlark is actually the foil to many of the cliches. That was a long speech over some incoherent thoughts I’m so sorry if you suffered through that.

“It's not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Peeta's hand. That's how tightly I've been holding it.” Awww he is her rock 😭🤧🥺

"No, don't let go of me," he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. "Please. I might fall out of this thing." Okay this part is so cute and so blatantly setting Peeta up as her main love interest omg 😅 this isn’t the least bit subtle or disguised. But first off, the fact that Katniss is also Peeta’s stability here too 😭😭😭 and second of all, she takes time to notice his blue eyes against the firelight? She was attracted to him from the very start, y’all. That’s indisputable. 👌🏻😎🤧

“It's not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.” I agree with you, baby, it’s not fair at all. But you two take care of that situation nicely. Or not. Y’all do start a dang war. 🤭🤭🙃🙃

It’s rather ... ironic that it’s District Twelve’s chariot of them all that is pulled up and stopped directly in front of President Snow’s mansion. I know it’s a book, certain details like this are definitively contrived, I know get over it. 🤦🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️

So uh. Snow is a small thin man? Why do I suddenly imagine Danny Devito as Snow 😅😅😅😅🤣🤣🤣🤣 y’all know he’d kill the role

“The darker it becomes, the more difficult it is to take your eyes off our flickering.” Okay, this is such a great line and it’s so significant to the rest of the series? The fact that Katniss — and Peeta, let’s not forget our boy — became symbols of the revolution. Like this line is deep if you think about it. The worse things in Panem got, the more the civilians looked towards Katniss and Peeta for hope 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰🥰

Omg now after Songbirds and Snakes, we know the national anthem. I’m sorry, babies, that you have to endure that I’ll get you out of there 🙉🙉🙉

I feel like in part, the Capitol camera crew — Cressida, Pollux .... Pollux’s brother... is that you here???? — put so much attention on District Twelve because it would create some resentment and competition between them and the careers 🤭🤗

“I notice a lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which confirms what I've suspected, we've literally outshone them all.” Insert Gretchen Wieners “I can’t help that I’m popular!” 😅😅😅😅😅

“I realize I'm still glued to Peeta and force my stiff fingers to open. We both massage our hands.” — they were hanging on so tight 😭😭😭😭

“Thanks for keeping hold of me.” He’s so sweet ☺️☺️☺️ I love him even if he’s kind of an idiot sometimes but so is Katniss so let’s not point fingers

“I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. [...] And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness” Omg I know Katniss views this as him trying to manipulate her but the fact that he’s actually just admitting the way he’s felt for years is so 😭😭😭😭 if only you’d spit it out sooner, Bready

“he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.” She literally has a crush on her fellow tribute and her first line of defense is to decide he out to get her for making her feel this way 🤣😭🙃

“The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.” The more my crush grows, the more deadly he becomes. I know I’m reading this with shipper goggles but guess what? I’m unashamed. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ who feels guilty for reading this book with an Everlark bias not this girl right here 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.” Okay first off, she says cheek here but according to a chapter ago, she claimed the mark was on his jaw... so in other words, she’s incredibly short. If a medium height guy has a bruise on his jaw and she has to stand on her tip toe to reach it... well... hashtag LittleKatniss

And second off.... can you even imagine how Peeta must feel. He genuinely complimented her here, the girl he has had a crush on forever, and she responds by kissing his cheek. He was probably really happy at this moment. And also this probably played further into his buying into her false display in the arena. That here we have her clutching his hand, smiling and laughing with him and kissing his cheek. Idk what I was trying to say necessarily but I made myself sad wow way to go me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧

Anyways! Those are my very over the top and too detailed thoughts! Hope you enjoyed if you read this! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳😎😎😎😎😎😎😎🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#thgagain #once again the Jen gifs are still headlining these posts 🥳🥳🥳#this isn’t as funny as my others so I’m sorry y’all #but I like nice commentary on these posts makes me feel less alone so feel free

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hs-devote · 4 years

Text

5. T H E S T Y L E S

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter :

Harry was accustomed to returning to a house that was always dark, and empty. There was only him, or Suzanne - if she was having work to do . Until that night, Harry was confused when his house did not feel as quiet as usual.

5. THE STYLES

His head tilted to the voice, finding someone who he hadn't met in months, his mother, in his dining room, eating whatever it was with a glass of red wine next to her plate. Harry blinked his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating. No way his mother was in here, travelling all the way from Manchester. She would tell him if she wanted to visit.

“Mum?” He mumbled, much more like to himself while his feet taking him closer. Anne just smiled, raising her glass. “Why come home so late? It's 11.00 pm already.”

The first thing Harry did; hug his mother tightly, feeling so miss her. “What are you doing here? Why you didn't tell me you're here?”

“I just miss my dear son so much. I didn't want to bother you if I called you. Think a surprise would do something, did it?” Anne ruffled Harry's hair. Harry chuckled, letting his arms go. “Definitely.”

Anne took a good look over her son, she hadn't seen him in a few months, but it felt like years. In fact, she could have often to visit Harry, but she knew Harry would spend more time with his work. Harry wasn't someone who prioritize work over his family, no, he was just happy to work hard to make his family proud.

“I met Suzanne earlier and she cooked these delicious meals. Lucky I didn't wait for you in starving. It surprised me that she cooked the recipe that I gave.”

“Oh! No wonder Suzanne knew my favourite food. They were your original recipes, weren't they?”

“I just want to make sure my son always remembers his mother with those cooking recipes!”

Both of them laughed out loud, exchange stories here and there. His mother was a place where he could tell his story without having to care about people's judgement – of course, he wouldn't say something that makes Anne sad or worry. The last thing he wanted in the world was to see the sadness on his mother's face.

“I didn't see Clementia, where is she? Is she coming with you?” Harry asked, his eyes looking around his dining room. But he didn't see anyone but his mother.

“She had fallen asleep in the second room.” Anne shrugged, sipping her wine. “She's in her college break and came home since she was getting bored in Milan. So, I took her here.”

Harry was not the only child in the Styles family. He had a younger sister, Clementia, or used to be he called her Cece. She was a fashion design student in one of the best fashion schools in Italy. Thanks to Harry for successfully persuaded Anne to let her study abroad.

“If she wasn't lazy enough, she could explore the south-west. Really, really beautiful place.”

“She just missed her older brother so much, Harry.” Anne swatted her son's arm playfully. “Are you hungry? I think there are still leftovers for you.”

Harry shook his head, telling her he wanted to take a shower and go straight to sleep afterwards. After bidding her good night, Harry headed to his room.

The sun shone brightly this morning, replacing the moon in the sky. His feet soles froze when stepping on the cold bedroom floor. Harry slowly rose up from the bed, walking out from his room with the sleeping robe that was not perfectly tied, showing a little amount of his chest hair and his swallow tattoos. This morning felt more alive than usual. His mother was cooking while chatting with Suzanne, who helped her for breakfast. Then he found Clementia who was busy capturing the morning view of London from the living room.

He stunned in his spot for a short time, smiling over the nice ambience he rarely felt while living alone in London. This was rare, or almost never, his morning felt warm like this. Harry was accustomed to having breakfast alone, or at least with Suzanne – yet she cleaned the kitchen more often than accompanied him to having breakfast together.

“Why girls love to show off on Instagram like that?” His deep morning voice startled Clementia. Making her yelped in surprise. The girl threw her brand new phone, she tackled her brother in a big hug.

“I miss you so much, H!”

“Miss you too darling.” He hummed, rubbing her back. Anne just smiled, watching the interaction of her children.

“How did you know I was recording it for Instagram?” Clementia asked, releasing his body from her. She dropped her body to the couch, grabbing her phone.

“Because you're now posting in that Instagram story thingy.” He teased, glancing slightly to her screen – which displays Instagram feeds. He could see her icon now circled by pinkish colour.

“I'm amazed by the view! Your living room is insane. I mean, you can see the whole of London clearly as possible through this big glass. Hell, almost all of your living room's walls are glass.” She answered in awe.

“Enjoy while you're in London then.”

“Breakfast kids!” Anne shouted, placing her freshly cooked foods. Pulling his chair, Harry sat at the end of the marble table, his smile wide due to having companies for this morning's breakfast. He muttered small thank you when Anne got his plate.

“Hey, H. Any recommendations place for me today? The weather outside is nice for sightseeing.” Clementia asked while chewing her pancakes. Harry stopped, his pink lips pursed as if he was thinking hard. “If you enjoy some foods, try Maltby Street Market, or walking down the street in Camden or Soho?”

The siblings talked a lot to each other. Harry was the brother who always asks how her sister at school and what she learned while living abroad. While Clementia was a talkative little sister with her enormous curiosity. Anne just listened to them, sometimes talked to Suzanne about Harry's daily life.

After finishing his food, Harry put his plate in the dishwasher and getting ready to the office. Thirty minutes later, he appeared in his work suit. His unbuttoned red shirt clad his fit body, with a black suit jacket hanging on his arm. “I have to go, bye mum, Suzanne, and.. Cece.”

“Hey, how many times I have to tell you don't call me Cece!” Clementia yelled from her seat, making Anne pinch her arm playfully. She shook her head, watching her son closed the door while Cece still ranting.

“Mum, do you think I can pay him a visit in his office?” Clementia mumbled, asking Anne. Her mother just shrugged, “As long as you don't bother him.”

. . . .

Black boots stomped on the floor, eyes fixated straight as she walked into the building. The way she dressed up in a fancy Italian ready-to-wear brand catching every eye. Almost everyone in the room guessing the lady was a model for the way she walked and her clothing taste.

“Hi, I want to see Harry, please.” Her voice made Madeleine snapped her head on her desk. Looking at her from head to toe, not in a rude way. Standing in front of her, a female teenager who looked no more than seventeen years old. What did this little lady want to do with her boss?

“Err, Mr. Styles?” Madeleine asked in uncertainty. Even though this girl knew Harry, Harry might be not knowing her. She could be his stalker. Young people, these days could do whatever they want.

She nodded, “Yes.”

“Do you have an appointment? Can I have your name, Miss?” Madeleine flipped her book, eyes looking up and down her screen. Looking out if Harry had an appointment today.

“Tell him Clementia wants to see him.”

“Please wait. I’ll confirm with him.”

Meanwhile, Harry had Y/N over his office. Both of them were not really working. She made dumplings back at home before she went to the office and she thought it would be nice if she brought Harry her home-made food for lunch.

“You should bring me more homemade meals, you know? I could save my lunch break and do anything while chewing my lunch.” Harry said while clamping the dumpling with chopsticks.

“I think I could do that, something more simple than dumplings.”

“Mhm, this is very delicious.” He chewed, his tongue felt every taste that exploded on his mouth.

“Thank you, Harry.” Y/N nodded, happy that Harry liked her food. She only stared at him while he was eating, he looked really enjoy it.

Incoming call: 628 – Madeleine Brown

“Harry, Madeleine's calling you.” Y/N looked at his ringing office phone, Harry just nodded –gesturing her to pick up the phone, “Just pick up, please.”

“May I? Wouldn't she be wondering?”

“No need to worry, just pick up already.” Slowly, Y/N pick up the phone, saying hello before Madeleine told her someone outside his office wanted to see Harry. The person was waiting while they both talk.

“Harry, someone's want to see you. Madeleine said her name is.. Clementia?” She asked slowly, her eyes looking at him curiously. Hearing Clementia's name made him choke on his food, made Y/N bring his drink to his mouth, hands rubbing his back. She started to suspicious after seeing Harry's reaction. He looked so surprised. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's fine, send her in.”

Y/N told Madeleine to let this Clementia girl in. In thirty seconds, his door burst open. A young girl was no more than twenty years old standing confidently, her eyes squinting at the two of them. Y/N must admit this girl looked so stunning, and rich. Who was this girl? - her inner goddess folded her arms. Her insecurities began to lock her up. Was this his girlfriend?

“I don't know you have a companion, Harry.” She asked, eyes looking at Y/N cautiously. Harry rolled his eyes, “I don't know you're coming either, C.”

“I was going to take you out if you weren't busy, seems I was wrong.” She answered, pulling the vacant seat in front of them. “You don't want to introduce me to her?”

From the way Clementia asked, Y/N could sense a tease there. But she wasn't sure. She just sat next to Harry, didn't know what to do. Harry gathered up his lunch box, whispering thanks while rubbing Y/N's waist. Clementia chuckled, seeing that small – soft gesture her brother gives to this female next to him.

“C, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Clementia – the little sister.” Y/N offered her smile yet relieved smile, Clementia just waved her hand.

“I don't know you have a sister, Harry.”

Clementia widened her eyes, putting her hand on her chest – in disbelief. “You never told her about me? What a shame, Harry.”

“No, never. I just found out now.” Y/N beamed, looking at Harry and Clementia. Her eyes scanned her figure. While Harry has green eyes, she has bright hazel eyes. If she didn't know they are siblings, she would think they were not related.

“From all your dates – intimate time together, or even light conversation, he never talked about me? So sad.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat.

“Your sister looks sad, H.” Y/N mumbled, giving her an apologetic smile.

“I guess.. when you were on a date, I think it would be better to enjoy time together than talked about other people, wouldn't it?”

His sister just smirked right away, just intending to lure him to talk who was the woman in front of her. Clementia always admits her brother's type in women, but this woman seemed different. If usually she saw Harry with famous women. Y/N looked nothing to them. Not in a bad way, of course. She looked professional in her business attire, while she stared at her eyes, she could feel this woman so wonderfully smart – her gaze was soft but firm. When she opened his office door, she expected a girl sat on his lap like usual since his receptionist took a long time in the call. She guessed her brother was busy with someone.

She got her answer. And she liked Y/N already.

“Okay, I'll leave you two.” Y/N took his lunch box before she turned her heels, she threw a warm smile to Harry's sister. “Nice to meet you, Clementia.”

“You too, sist.”

“Oh, Y/N. I forget to return your clothes. Remind me tomorrow morning, yeah?” Harry said before Y/N opening his door.

“Why you don't just come to Harry's home tonight, Y/N? Mum would love to meet you.” Clementia spoke out of nowhere, “We will have dinner and you H, can return her clothes.”

Y/N stopped in her track while Harry was thinking. He would love the idea of Y/N meet his mother. Well, they've dated a few times, sharing kisses here and there. But...

“Sounds lovely. What do you think, Y/N?” He asked Y/N who was staring at the siblings dumbfounded. Meeting his mother? A woman who gave birth to this beautiful creature?

“I don't take a no. I'll let mum knows. Maybe I can take her shopping for dinner. Any food request? Do you have any special allergies, Y/N?” Clementia asked while typing in her phone, Y/N assumed that she's texting with their mother. “Thank you for the invitation, I would love to. But, I don't have any allergies.”

“Perfect then!” Clementia smiled, winking at her. Y/N nodded her head before heading out.

“So, tell me brother. How long have you been dating her? And why you didn't tell me first, at least?” Clementia asked him right away after Y/N closed his door.

“Why do you want to know?”

Clementia rolled her eyes, “It's not like I will threaten her or what. I just being overprotective to you, H. I know you're an adult. But, you were a kid when it's come from a relationships matter.”

“A kid?” Harry frowned, didn't expect himself being taught with a little girl in front of him. But, he was touched when Clementia admitted that she was protective to him.

“Looking back at your relationship history, you were the most heartbroken and disappointed one. I know you don't want to admit it. Just don't make the same mistake.” She said softly, “Okay, back to the question. Tell me about her! I have my own first impression of her but I want to hear from your perspective.”

“She's my assistant, honestly. Her office is next to me if you want to pay a visit.” Harry began, “I knew her for a few months because she's new here. If you really realise, she's the first normal woman I date. She's really nice, and kind. A smart young woman, and very independent of her own. She's beautiful, inside and out.”

Clementia nodded, watching her brother who was smiling himself. Sometimes chuckled on his own.

“What makes her attractive in your eyes. I know she's beautiful and smart, and.. polite.” She asked, “Honestly I was surprised to see her just sat casually beside you. Not trying to be seductive or sexy sitting on your.. thighs.”

“She respects me, and our jobs. She treats me as an ordinary person. She's hard to please, not easy to get.” He smiled, “I remembered one day I took her to have an ice cream date. Well, not really a date because I just told her so after that. The second time I wanted to ask her out, she told me to earn her before she said yes.”

“I was a little surprised because before she was really looking forward to our second date.” He added, shaking his head.

“And what you should earn?” Clementia asked in curiosity. Interested in his story.

“That part was a secret.” Harry grinned, make Clementia let out loud sigh. She didn't like her brother being too mysterious like that, yet she respects their privacy.

“I mean when you really like someone, yet you're confused about how to describe your feelings. Because, there are many things that make it hard for you to explain. Only you and your heart know those feeling.”

His sister nodded, didn't utter any words. But then she laughed when she saw Harry was smiling like an idiot. “I know you're happy, brother. But please don't smile like that.”

“I'm also confused why I can be this happy.” He shook his head, straighten up a bit.

“I guess because you haven't felt this way for a long time.” She hummed, “But I'm glad you're happy now. Just keep that happiness, H.”

Clementia went back to his penthouse after spending two hours in Harry's office. Harry was waiting in Y/N's office as she was getting ready to go. Madeleine has returned home so he didn't worry if anyone was suspicious of them, there was only the two of them here.

“I like your sister, she's such a goofball. But, I never saw her when I came to your home.” She said while stepping out of the lift, Harry's hand around her waist while her hand on his back. They know it was a bit risky if anyone saw them, but since they take the private exit, that was not that matter.

Yes, she was in his penthouse a few times, but she never saw Clementia. Was she busy admiring the luxury of his home? Every time she set foot in there, there was something always catches her attention. She even didn't remember if Harry had some pictures of his family.

“She's currently living in Milan for her study. That girl loves fashion design, so I kinda sent her there. Mum lives in Manchester, so I live alone here in London. It's always me or Suzanne.”

The parking lot was empty. His shiny black Porsche parked in his usual place, the one Y/N never seen in his private lot.

“Get in, darling.” Harry opened the passenger door, letting her climb in first. She grinned while thanking him, and let the door close. She pulled the safety belt over her when Harry climbed into the driver seat, ready to take her home.

The long drive to his home, Harry took Y/N her hands in his while another one stayed on the wheel. Sometimes he squeezed them to searching a comfort, or when he pissed with the traffic. Meanwhile, Y/N was having a thought about their relationship. It had been a few weeks, they constantly got out together if they had time –not always on the weekend. They talked, they laughed, they were holding hands, they hug, they kissed, but Harry hadn't dropped the question she was waiting for.

The car stopped when they reach the underground parking. He parked his car next to his other cars.

“Y/N, wait.” Harry put his hand over her clothed thigh, safety belt still wrapped their torso.

“Yes, Harry?” Her concerned eyes made his stomach churn. Actually, during the ride home, he thought to make their relationship official. Harry really, really liked her – all of her. The dates they'd had made him sure to take the next level. He just hoped that she also felt what he was feeling towards her right now.

Every time he looked at her, he could imagine someday he woke up next to her. Having breakfast together, or making dinner together. Everything above could happen if.. if she would say yes.

“I know we've been going on dates in the past few weeks.” He stopped for a while, made her mind flying everywhere. Did he not want to continue this after tonight? Did he realise that she wasn't what he wanted all the time?

If she wanted to be honest, one day Y/N tried to search his name on Google and it didn’t surprise her there were many articles about Harry. What made her insecure was he dated or even hook up with a few popular models and A-list celebrities.

“This may sound a bit cliché, but it's hard to find the right words.” He chuckled, “I know we only knew each other not too long. Yet, every time I spend with you, every single second we have together – you make me more human, and alive than before. I'm better human when I'm with you. I really love that feeling.” Harry scratched his neck, look nervous than before. His voice deeper in each word. His hand squeezing her thighs, he looked her right in the eyes. “I really, really like you. And I love the idea you're being my girlfriend. I'm excited about what futures may hold. I don't ask you just because we want to meet my mum, no. I think this is the right time for me to be honest with you. It's been weeks and I can't hold any longer.” He let out a relieved sigh, “And I'm mean it.”

After the sentences were spoken, Y/N didn't wait any more to grab his face and kissed him softly. Harry's hand wilding to her jaw, kissed her back tenderly.

“I love the idea of being your girlfriend too, Harry.” She whispered in his ear, making his skin itching in happiness. He smiled, “Good, now you're stuck with me.” and kissed her again. Their kissed getting more intense, Harry's hand eager to unlock her safety belt, feeling that thing held them back.

“Harry, Harry. Your mum and sister waiting for us.” She laughed while pushing Harry's torso softly. He just hummed an okay. She turned the dome light on, looking at her messy appearance in the rear-view mirror. She dug into her bag, finding her lipstick. Harry's hand stopped her when she wanted to apply to her lips.

“Let me.” He picked it and carefully applying the colour on his girlfriend's lips. Whoa, he liked the sound of it. His girlfriend...

Y/N waited patiently, while her eyes stole a glance at Harry. Her man looked so handsome when he was focused on something, but her attention was diverted to his nails that painted with pink glitter.

“That's pretty.” Harry muttered, placing the lipstick back to her palms. Y/N took a look at the mirror, shocking Harry did the job well. No wonder his nails always covered in colours neatly, “Thank you.”

“Mhm, c'mon darling.”

Harry climbed out first before opening the door for her. A small gesture that always made her smile. His hand led her in. The doorman bid them welcome with a warm smile.

“Your hands are shaking.” Harry said while the lift took them up, his right hand wrapped on Y/N's left, tucked them in his pocket. “Don't be nervous, it's just casual dinner.”

“And we're meeting your mum.” She muttered, waiting anxiously to lift stopped. Harry just smirked while squeezing her hand, “She doesn't bite, darling. Just breath.. nice and easy.”

Meanwhile, Clementia and Anne were preparing dinner. Yes, Clementia wasn't really good at cooking, but she could help Anne a little bit. And she was so excited. She didn't stop blabbering while helping her mother.

“You know, mum? I never expect Harry would go for his assistant.”

Anne frowned, wiping her wet hands. “And why about it?”

“No offence. But I kinda happy that he's no longer dating those boring models, you know? Yes, I love to talk about fashion and things but.. it would be more fun if you have a conversation with an educated woman.” She shrugged, picking a grape from its stems and bite it.

“And now you're saying your brother's ex-girlfriends aren't educated?” Anne stared at his daughter with squinting eyes, “Clementia you can't –”

“Mum!” She cried, “It's not what I mean. I secretly searched for her profile on the internet. Not much I got, sure since she's not famous, but what's surprising is.. she was representative of King College for United Nation Youth Forum! Imagine how smart she is.”

“At least you now have motivation for your studies.” Anne laughed, “But, that's creepy you were stalking her profile.”

“I know.” She sighed, “But it's not for bad things, I promise.”

Anne bit her lip, “But does he look happy?”

“I've never seen Harry so happy before. Have you ever seen Harry was smiling alone like a fool?”

“No.”

“Exactly!” Clementia snapped her fingers, looking at Anne. “We will see.”

Y/N never imagined she would be panicking like this, she tried to calm herself down, but she couldn't. Sure meeting your boyfriend's parent was something nerve-wrecker, let alone the relationship just started. What she would think of you? Did you worthily enough for him? Did you fit enough in his life? Y/N thought she would pass out right away if she thought too much about it. She didn't realise they were standing in front of his door already.

“Here they are!” Clementia squealed while she opened the door for them and quickly gave Y/N a hug.

“You must be cooked something special. Its smell delicious from here.” Y/N said warmly.

“Mum made Curry, Shepherd’s Pie, and something still in the cooking.” Clementia answered while winking at Harry. She closed the door as Harry led his girlfriend to the kitchen, finding her mum stirring the pot.

“Hey, mum.” Harry kissed Anne's cheek, “Where's Suzanne?”

“Hi, sweetheart. I let her go home early because I was the one who cooking tonight.” She pinched Harry's cheek playfully, making him groan in annoyed. Y/N just smile watching both of them, reminded her of her mother.

“Hi, dear! I'm Anne, Harry's mother. You must be, Y/N?” She never expected Harry's mother would hug her like they had known each other for a long time. She happily embraces Anne into her arm, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Styles.”

“Oh, shush! Call me Anne.” She smiled gently, “Take a seat. Dinner is ready.”

As usual, Harry took his seat on the edge. Y/N sat next to Clementia since she assumed Anne would take the seat next to her son. But, being the cheeky she was, Clementia shooed her away and said that Anne bored enough sitting next to her brother.

“Clementia said she met you at Harry's office, Y/N.” Anne started the conversation when she saw everyone enjoy her cooking.

“Mhm, I work for Harry – just moved from Swansea office.”

“She's my assistant, mum. The smartest one I've ever had if I may say.” Harry added, bobbing his head. Anne just nodded, “That's surprising.”

That one made Y/N's stomach twist. Was that negative? Or the opposite? She knew that an employee dating their boss was.. weird, and breaking the company rules. Seemed not unprofessional at all. But, when they were at work, they work like usual.. a boss and employee, nothing romance included. They were careful enough when they were together. Her inner goddess told Y/N she should have asked Harry about that thing.

“Not in a bad way, of course.” Anne said when she saw Y/N's face turned slightly uncomfortable. “Tell me, how's work with Harry? He's didn't put you on stress, no?

“Harry is nice. Help me a lot, and a perfectly hard worker. Sometimes we had to stay late in the office, but he made sure that I didn't overwork. We have a lot of work to be done in 24 hours, we help each other to finish on time.”

“She always patient with me. I think her days in college taught her extra patience.” Harry smiled, his hand sneaking down the table, rubbing her thigh in assurance. He could feel her hand on top him. Within a few inches, Anne saw them smiling at each other. Their own eyes speak reassurance. She clearly saw from her son eye's, he was clearly adoring the girl next to her. Something that she hadn't seen for a while.

“Whoa, you were a college girl? Tell me, how did you survive? I just start my semester, but I feel like I just wanna run away.” Clementia asked in awe, maybe Y/N could encourage her sometimes lazy mind to fight with her course. Y/N laughed, definitely understand with her frustration, there were times when she cried all day because she feels overwhelmed over her assignments. “That time I just thought.. don't waste my full scholarship, I was struggling enough to get into Kings' College. My parents are waiting for me to come back home with that degree.”

“King's College? so... she's smart.. smart.” Clementia beamed. Anne playfully jabs her side, “Take a note from her, don't disappoint your brother.”

“I heard you're studying in Milan? How's it there? I really want to visit Italy one day.” She asked softly, staring at Clementia who was grinning widely, “Italy is.. something else. Italy is more romantic than France, no offence! Florence and Positano are my top picks, and Sicily too.”

“Maybe we could visit you someday, C. And having a family holiday.” Harry said as he faced down his cutlery, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Anne nodded in agreement, they haven't spent time together outside for a long time, “You should take a schedule off, dear. Before you visit Clementia, try to visit your mother, bring Y/N too. Manchester is not so far from London.”

“Oh, mum..” Harry chuckled, his eyes stared lovingly to his mother. “Don't make me feel bad.”

“Hey, Y/N. Could you do me a favour to persuade him to visit me often? I believe he would hear you over me.” She winked, ignoring Harry's pleading eyes.

“I'll try my best.” Y/N smiled, giving Harry side-eye.

Dinner was fun. They most likely talked about each other life. Y/N just learnt that Anne had Harry when she was twenty-two, and Clementia is eighteen now. Their father, Igor Styles, sadly passed away two day after Harry's master graduation ceremony due to heart attack – leaving them with growing companies to take care of. Since then, Harry took over his father's companies and work his ass off.

Harry was smiling so hard when his favourites women, his mum, his girlfriend, his sister, could get along quickly. Clementia made him surprised because the girl was so welcome to Y/N. She was usually quite hard to warm to his girlfriends before.

The way her son hold his lady, Anne knew that he was so smitten. She understood that Harry wanted to spend time alone with Y/N because from what she had heard, they often had to rearrange their date because of sudden upcoming work.

She wouldn't be mad because right now Harry prefers to cuddle with other women than her, because Anne would always have Harry by her side no matter what. She just hoped his son would find his final lover soon.

This new Harry was not the same as the old Harry. Anne was used to be met two different women in his arms in a span of three months. And that made her worry.

Harry was an adult, he made his choice and Anne couldn’t do much. She just gave him her advice here and there, especially for settling down.

In Y/N, she believed – but not too much.

From the way she talked, the way she laughed over unfunny jokes that Harry made, the way she’s spoken out about her perspective – her vision. Anne could trusted her.

Earlier simple gestured that the girl showed, she collected all dirty plates and cutlery not worrying about dirty and wet food waste – some women Harry used to date found it gross and refused to cleanse– well all of them were spoiled brat rich people – Anne called. At least she knew Y/N was familiar with housework. Not to forget she was smart enough from the way she responded about the current happening global issues.

She wanted her son to find a modest woman and not using him for their personal advantage. She preferred Harry with someone who was regular than the famous one yet she couldn’t do anything but waste his money.

Anne clearly heard their loud laughter even they were in the balcony. Not knowing what they laughed about. She just prayed she could always hear that from both of them.

“Harry looks happy.” Clementia leaned on the countertop, watching his brother tickling Y/N. “I don’t know this could turn into their date.”

“Let them be, C. I barely see your brother laughing out load.” Anne snickered, “Have you taken her clothes? Harry was asking you, wasn’t he?”

“Haven’t yet, I don’t know where he put it in his room. I wanted to ask, but I don’t want to bother them.”

“Let me dig his wardrobe then.”

Anne opens his son's bedroom – looking at all grey-brown theme. His bedroom smells like Tonka bean and Cedarwood. She could identify Y/N's folded clothes on his bed, who else if it's not hers. Anne grinned when she found a photograph of her family in his wall. She spotted a few medicine bottles on the nightstand. Her curiosity mind pushed her to take it, reading every label carefully. Harry didn't tell her he was on medication.

Prozac.

She was not familiar with the names. Might be common vitamins. So, she didn't take it seriously.

“Here's your clothes, Y/N. Don't be surprised if it smells like Harry.” Anne handed Y/N's clothes in a paper bag, giving Harry a wink.

“Thank you.” Y/N beamed, “I should go home now. Thank you for your delicious meals, Anne. Maybe one day I will ask you some food recipes if you don't mind of course.”

“I just one phone call away, dear.” She nodded, “Why don't you just stay the night, Y/N? It's already late, and tomorrow it's Saturday.”

“Oh, I don't want to bother you guys. I'm fine.” Y/N politely declined, didn't want to overstay her welcome. After all, she didn't want to bother their family time.

“That's a good idea, honestly. We don't have any urgent tasks to be done over the weekend. You can stay here until Sunday too if you want.” Harry agreed, the idea of his girlfriend stayed the night was quite exciting to him.

“Oh no, really. I'm fine– ”

“This time I don't take a no. I'll show your room, yeah? Harry squeaked, taking her hand. “Or, do you wanna sleep with me in my bedroom?” He asked cheekily.

Y/N widened her eyes, “Harry! I didn’t even bring any stuff to stay overnight.”

“We insist, darling. Besides, I think we have spare toiletries. You can wear Clementia's clothes. ” Anne chuckled, “If you want to stay with Harry, just don't make loud noises in the middle night.” She winked, leaving them both. “Oh! I'll bring you her sleepwear.”

“Oh my god.” Y/N grimaced, squinting her eyes. She was sure her cheeks getting red now.

“Hey, don't listen to her. She's joking.” Harry took her to his embrace, kissing her shoulder. “I'll take you to your room.”

Her room for the night no less spectacular than the other room she ever saw, the space was even almost equal to her whole apartment. While Anne and Clementia took rooms in the hall facing the Thames, her room, which next to Harry was in the other hall facing skyscraper building.

“I don't know if you want to stay with me or not, but I give you your own space. If you need anything, just knock on my door.” He said softly.

“Okay, thank you for letting me stay, H.” She smiled. Before she got the chance to bid him good night, he brought her face closer, kissing her lips dearly. She giggled, tangling his curls in her fingers.

“Good night, sleep well sweetheart.” Harry poked her nose softly, and disappear behind his door.

. . . .

His chest ache, while his body wet with sweat. The air conditioner apparently didn't succeed in making him cool, he kept moving in his sleep.

“Y/N.” He moaned, eyes squinting in pleasure and.. pain. His panting breath filled his room, “Oh my god, fuck.”

“Y/N –darling, baby.” Harry groaned, face dripping with sweat. In split seconds, his eyes shot open. Looking around his room, his hand patted the vacant side next to him. He sighed when he didn't find Y/N laying there. Rubbing his face, he chuckled in to realise that was just his fantasy. In his dream, they were having sex somewhere in Italy. He pounded hard into her while sun setting behind them.

He laughed, how the hell he had a wet dream about his one day girlfriend?

Looking at the clock, it was past two in the night. He decided to clean his self, taking a glass of water, and go back to bed.

His sleepiness disappeared after he washed his face, but how shocked he was when he saw Marcel in his bathroom mirror. Grinning evilly.

“How fun to dream about your girlfriend, well she managed to make you orgasm like that.”

“What do you want, Marcel? I have my family and her over, don't make a scene.”

“I was wondering.. did she hear you? She's sleeping in the next room, isn't she?” He scoffed, “I could just sneak into her room and have sex with her, you know?”

“Don't, Marcel.” Harry gritted his teeth, hands balled.

“How's she feels? Bet she's sweet, dripping like honey. Just imagine, she screams my name instead of you.”

Harry couldn't contain it anymore, his fist punched the mirror making a loud noise along with broken pieces fell to the floor. Marcel disappeared, with his blood pouring from his fist. Little did he know, Anne jolted from her sleep when the sound of broken glass ringing through her ear.

Harry rushed out of his room, then opened Y/N's door – relieved to find that she was still deep asleep, surely not hearing that sounds. Yet, Anne standing in the hall made him frowned. His bloody fist tucked behind his back.

“Mum? Why are you up?” He asked warily.

“I heard something shattered. What happened, Harry?” She asked him back curiously. Her son shook his head, but the way blood dripping to the floor made her sprint towards him. She gasped when looking at Harry's knuckles. “What are you doing? What happened? Why is your hand bleeding like this?”

“I accidentally broke a glass because.. I was half asleep when I went to the bathroom, and.. my reflection made me shock.” Harry scratched his neck with his clean hand, no matter how badly he wanted to lie, Harry could never lie to his mother.

“You clumsy little thing, making me worry.” Anne sighed, “Let me clean your hand.”

“I'm sorry to wake you up.” He mumbled, slightly grimace as Anne patting his knuckles with antiseptic.

“No need to be sorry, darling. It's okay.”

Harry whispered small thank you after his mother bandaged his wounds. Anne smiled sadly, sometimes forgot that her son had grown up, blaming that time flies so fast. Even his physique changes –blossoming into a beautiful man– he was still her baby.

“Harry?”

“Mhm?”

Before she asked him something that bothered her, was it appropriate to ask him? That was his privacy, but she was his mother after all. “I see some medicinal bottles in your room, the names aren't common for vitamins. Are you currently on a particular medication?”

He was speechless, didn't know how to react. He hadn't thought that he was so careless to put the medicines. What should he do? . . Please excuse some errors.

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bookbabe92 · 3 years

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Graphic Novels, Not Just For Kids!

Do you enjoy reading graphic novels? Have you ever given them a chance? They are one of my favorite formats to read even though I don’t actually read that many of them. I tend to like very specific authors and illustrators of graphic novels, and even though some of these graphic novels are meant for kids and teens I see nothing wrong with adults enjoying them too. Art, and graphic novels are a form of art, is meant to be shared. Here are some of my favorite graphic novels.

French Milk by Lucy Knisley

An Age of License by Lucy Knisley

I pretty much love anything by Lucy Knisley, I’ve literally read all of her graphic novels but these 2 are my favorites. I relate to her the most in these two books as she struggles to find herself, travel, and learn what she wants out of life.

3. Giant Days by John Allison

Giant Days is a really fun series about 3 girls who meet and become best friends at University. They are all different, have different weaknesses and strengths, and are made stronger by being a team. Things get a little wacky, of course, as they only can by being in Uni but as a team, and with some help from outsiders they make it through, relatively unscathed. As I didn’t go away for college, reading this series did make me feel like I got to experience it vicariously through the characters.

4. Pumpkinheads by Rainbow Rowell and Faith Erin Hicks

I LOVE Halloween so I was instantly drawn to this graphic novel. It’s all about an ongoing Fall Festival where there are hay bale rides, bonfires, corn mazes, and more. It follows two of the employees who work there, it’s their last night there before they leave for college and they are determined to try everything they have missed out on by working there.

5. Go With the Flow by Karen Schneemann and Lily Williams

This graphic novel is not only really good, it’s also incredibly important. It starts off relatively simply, the middle school that the main characters attend never refills the pad and tampon dispensers in any of the girls' bathrooms. A small group of girls take issue with this and start lobbying the school and the school district to ensure that everyone has access to what they need. However, as the girls' awareness of inequality that people who menstruate face around the world it becomes a much bigger issue.

6. Sisters by Raina Telegeimer

7. Smile by Raina Telegeimer

8. Guts by Raina Telegeimer

9. Ghosts by Raina Telegeimer

10. Drama by Raina Telegeimer

Raina Telegeimer is great, easily one of the most popular authors of graphic novels amongst kids. Not only does she have these great stories listed here she also does all of the Baby-Sitter’s Club graphic novels. I really enjoyed these 4, Sisters, Smile, and Guts are a series but can also be read as standalone stories. Drama is all about the highs and lows of middle school, and Ghosts is uniquely its own.

11. Juliet Takes a Breath by Gabby Rivera

This is so beautifully drawn that it would be worth it just for that but it also centers around a young woman finding herself as she travels away from home for the first time, she struggles to reconcile her mother’s love for her with the fact that she can’t accept that her daughter isn’t straight. As if that wasn’t hard enough Juliet is also dumped by her girlfriend right after leaving home. Well worth a read!

12. The Okay Witch by Emma Steinkellner

13. One Year at Ellsmere by Faith Erin Hicks

14. Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu

15. Witches of Brooklyn by Sophie Escabasse

I really enjoyed all four of these graphic novels and you can see why if you read them, they all involve strong active female characters, magic, and the supernatural. However, they’re not exactly the same, there are underlying motivations and themes apparent in each one. They were so fun to read AND there will be a second book for both The Okay Witch and Witches of Brooklyn. The Okay Witch and the Hungry Shadow comes out July 6th, and Witches of Brooklyn: What the Hex?! Will be released August 31st! I’m already on the waiting list for both of them at my local library!

Are you a graphic novel fan? Do you have a favorite that I haven’t listed here and think that I absolutely have to read it? Send me some recommendations or suggestions and I will check them out!

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thtdamfangirl4 · 3 years

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thanks @pretend-im-normal for this set of questions!

i shall start with a christmas ask game (yes i know it’s january 28th) created by none other than archie’s husband

1. Their favorite Christmas tradition

I think for Archie it has to be baking christmas cookies. He loves doing it even if it’s just him, but especially doing it with the people he loves. He takes the decorating process way too seriously (this may or may not be inspired by my real life) and all the bois pitch in and reginald’s are always disturbing but annoyingly delicious and dorian’s are always a little goth and octavius’s are fabulous and archie keeps telling him that louboutins are not a christmas item but octavius insists that since he asked for them for christmas they should count, and archie loves him so he lets it slide. Eustace very carefully decorates and does his best and every time you eat one you can tell it’s full of love. Jasper wants everything to be as colorful as possible and he covers them in sprinkles. And nathaniel, lovely nathaniel, can’t decorate for shit but he just has fun with it and laughs the whole time and that makes archie’s chest feel tight for reasons he can’t explain until later. And then Archie and Nate finally start dating and during their first Christmas, aside from the bois cookie night, they do one of their own and Archie shows Nate how to decorate the way he does and Nate can’t quite get there but he’s following each direction with fervor and they look pretty good and he’s so proud of himself and Archie sneaks mistletoe into the kitchen and kisses him and now they do it every year, and every year Nate gets a little better. And eventually they have kids and they join the tradition (even the annual cookie decorating night with the bois), and Cam is fantastic at cookie decorating and Ben eats the dough and Archie swats him teasingly with a wooden spoon every time and Evie mixes icing colors cause she’s great at art and Nate washes dishes and makes a valiant effort and they dance around the kitchen and sing christmas music playing from Archie’s phone and he smiles the whole time and every year, he pulls out the mistletoe and kisses his husband and the kids go from thinking it’s cute to thinking it’s gross and embarrassing and all the way back to thinking it’s adorable when they’re old enough and one year Evie snaps a picture of it and it’s on the Christmas card the next year. Christmas is his favorite time of the year, and cookie days just feel like this magic untouchable place where he’s with his family and doing what he loves and to him, it is Christmas personified.

2. Their favorite Christmas song

It’s very hard to narrow down, so I’ll give a top three: All I Want for Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey, Last Christmas by Wham!, and Mary Did You Know by Pentatonix.

3. Their least favorite Christmas song

This will not come as a shock, because well... I’m Archie. It’s Michael Buble’s version of Santa Baby. He loves most of Michael’s Christmas music, but in his words, Michael Buble “needs to man up and be willing to fuck Santa or don’t bother singing the song.” He just made it weird by having it be Santa Buddy and Santa Pally. And Archie loves this song. He tweets Michael Buble about it every Christmas, begging him to erase it from existence.

4. Their general feelings about Christmas

Archie goes feral for Christmas. He loves everything about it. Fun, family, love, festivity, good music, good food, an excuse to bake 24/7, baby Jesus, buying presents, getting presents. Archie prides himself on being the Christmas Bitch. He’s especially fantastic at gift-giving.

5. Their favorite Christmas treat

Octavius’s homemade pizelles dipped in spiked hot chocolate.

6. The best gift they ever received

When Evie is like 20, she gives him a scrapbook for Christmas. It’s filled with pictures of Archie, Nathaniel, the kids, and the other bois over the years. Every page has Taylor Swift lyrics that relate to the images and stories, as well as messages she’s written and cute captions. In addition to pictures, there’s little mementos like ticket stubs or receipts or notes she’s collected from her dad and her aunts and uncles and scattered throughout the book are cutout lines from a printed out version of the poem he wrote for his and Nathaniel’s anniversary. Archie cries for like 3 hours.

7. The worst gift they ever received

One year, Jessica gets him in the PTA secret santa, and she gets him a few workout shirts and an expensive bottle of red wine. He’s so offended. To an outsider, this may seem like a nice gift, but it’s very clear that she got him the shirt because she disapproves of his crop tops. And she knows full well that he doesn’t really like red wine. He’s a white wine bitch. She knows. It’s been discussed.

8. The best gift they ever gave

He likes to joke that the best gift he’s ever given is the supplementary bundle of “free sex” coupons he gave to Nathaniel their first Christmas together (he also got him a fluffy bathrobe, a playlist of songs that remind him of nate, an anthology of queer writing and letters from historical figures, and a trip to color me mine, don’t worry). But the real best gift he ever gave was years later, when they’ve been married for 5 years. He surprises Nathaniel with a trip to New York, where he’s also gotten them tickets to a revival of Hamilton, they go on a tour of diner breakfasts, and then have a shopping and spa day. And then he has them get dressed up but Nathaniel doesn’t know why and after they go to a fancy dinner, he takes Nathaniel to the Woolworth building on Broadway (where the ball scene from Enchanted takes place), and the whole place has been rented out there’s the actual singer from the movie and they slow dance in the romantic lighting to So Close (their wedding song) and it’s endlessly romantic and both of them are crying a lot little.

9. The worst gift they ever gave

No. Archie has never given a bad gift in his life.

10. How they decorate their house

dude. DECK THE FUCKING HALLS. There are two trees. One is picture perfect and looks straight out of a hallmark movie, and the other one is covered in popcorn strings and tacky ornaments from movies and shows and homemade ones by the kids and Ben always puts too much tinsel on it and Cam eats the candy canes so it’s a little wonky and that one is not-so-secretly Archie’s favorite. Beautiful wreaths on the doors and windows outside. Beautiful real-looking garland and berries and red ribbon and little bells decorate the banisters and staircases. There are lights everywhere. Christmas paintings. Outside is decked the fuck out in lights of all colors, he loves the icicles, no blow ups, but he does get a moving reindeer made of lights, and it’s a whole winter wonderland. Lots of seasonal scented candles. White lights on the mantle. Always a fire burning in the fireplace. A beautiful handmade and well-lit nativity scene. Cinnamon scented pinecones everywhere. Santa, reindeer, and snowman figures are in a lot of places. He puts mistletoe above every doorway, molding, entryway, high cabinet, or anywhere he can hang it because the man loves love and he wants as many excuses as he can get to kiss his husband.

11. Their favorite Christmas memory

On Evie’s first Christmas, she gets all fussy and cries a lot while they’re at Octavius and Dorian’s for Christmas Eve and so they go home early and they put her to bed but it’s only like 8pm. So they have their own end to the night and it’s just them in their pajamas, watching The Holiday and Love Actually while drinking tea and they just cuddle up under a blanket. Archie gives Nate forehead kisses and they fall asleep curled up on the couch halfway through The Year Without a Santa Claus. And he wakes up and Nate isn’t there anymore and he finds him holding Evie in her rocking chair humming Christmas songs to her and he just watches from the doorway until Nate finally looks up and smiles at him. And then they get everything ready cause everyone they know is coming to their house for Christmas and Evie wears an adorable Christmas onesie and they all open presents but. Those like 12 hours. Cuddling with Nathaniel and watching christmas romcoms and waking up to see his husband rocking their beautiful baby daughter to christmas songs. Yeah. That one’s his favorite.

12. Their least favorite Christmas memory

When he was like 12 (back in the regency days) he got sick on Christmas and couldn’t go to any of the events or parties and he hated it. But other than that,,, there’s a reason Christmas is his favorite time of year. It’s magic for him.

13. if/Where they travel for the holidays

Nah. He always stays home. He’s the Christmas Hostess With The Mostest. Always home for Christmas. He, Nathaniel, and the kids do go to Disney World for the week before/including New Year’s one year though.

14. Who they spend the holidays with

Obviously: Nathaniel, Octavius, Dorian, Reginald, Jasper, Eustace, Tyler, (and eventually) Evie, Ben, and Cam, and Eustace and Tyler’s kids. Gigi, Chloe, Jackie, and Liza, switch off every year whether they’re with family or the bois. Lynn and Suzanne always come to Christmas Eve and stop by on Christmas day before going to see their families. Every once in a while, Reginald brings a Doug who had nowhere else to go.

15. All of their Christmas traditions (not just their favorite XD)

jesus. well some have been listed. Cookies, decorating, hanging mistletoe fucking everywhere. he starts listening to Christmas music on November 1st. Snowball fight with the whole crew. Snowman contest with the whole crew. Getting drunk and watching Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movies. Making cinnamon rolls for christmas morning. wearing an entire christmas wardrobe in the month of december. Christmas treats at the bakery. Looking hot at Nathaniel’s work Christmas party. Wrapping presents for weeks after the kids go to bed. Making the world’s best hot cocoa. Bugging Octavius for his pizelle recipe (he won’t give it up). tweeting one direction and begging them to reunite for a Christmas album. Rewatching all the holiday seasons of the Great British Bake Off. Making roast for Christmas dinner. Making mulled wine at some point. Game day with the crew the day after Christmas. Writing Nate a poem every Christmas they’re usually really bad . eating one candy cane per season out of obligation and then going back to his hatred of mint. buying a million seasonal items at Bath and Body Works. watching It’s a Wonderful Life with Nathaniel on Christmas Eve Eve. Dressing his kids in christmas pajamas. That’s all I can think of for now.

okay i’m finally done this took me almost two hours oh my god. happy frat boi-ing.

#regency frat bois #rfb #archibald q pemberton #we stan one (1) crop top queen #archie #nathaniel qolicott #natchie #natchie and their kids #the bois #octavius sinclair #dorian fitzgerald #reginald worthington #eustace marfleet #jasper sculthorpe #christmas

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junie-bugg · 4 years

Text

Prospects and Propriety - Chapter One

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

“We’re very similar, you and I.” He turns the leaf over in his palm one last time and then presses it into my hand. His fingertips are warm where the leaf is brittle.

We are, aren’t we? Me, a girl forced to marry by the rules and expectations of society and him, a boy whose freewill was stolen away before he could even walk. We’re both prisoners. Destined to fates we did not choose ourselves. Now I see what was so funny to him.

The two of us: we are absolutely tragic.

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Author’s Note:

This is a story inspired by my love of Everlark and Jane Austen’s novels. I am in no way an expert on the Regency period and I include fashions/details that are not historically accurate.

The setting is an alternate England-like Panem.

The plot is my own (Gale is not Mr. Darcy people, don’t get it twisted) but does borrow aesthetics and ideas directly from Jane Austen and Suzanne Collins.

The cast of characters is a mix of canon Hunger Games and original characters I’ve created.

I plan on including links to music and ambiance videos I used while writing so feel free to explore those! I typically play nature sounds and music together on my laptop so sorry if you're reading on a phone!

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cc9ofwF-e4

(If you want to listen to this on Spotify it's called 'The Secret Life of Daydreams' from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack.)

Word Count: 1,727

Chapter One

I run my hands through the tall grasses at my waist. It’s the perfect morning. The crisp air doesn’t quite hold that harsh bite of winter that will soon sweep the countryside in blizzards and ice. Emerald leaves hint at the coming autumn with the slightest tint of yellow along their stems. The sun shines bright through branches and I watch the forest come alive with squirrels and chipmunks that scurry through the thick brush. The dirt path I followed to get here grazes the edge of the woods, but I’ve abandoned it to traipse through the wild-flower dotted hillsides instead.

From this high up, I can see everything. The village of Whitley lies to the west. I can just make out the rooftops of the squat brick buildings off the main square. By this time the merchants will have opened their shops for business. The rest of the countryside is peppered with grand estates and bountiful farmland. Rivers gleam like veins of silver and dirt roads are wreathed in the dust kicked up by horse-drawn carriages. I wish I could stay and sit here all day. I would drink in the sun and drown in the low hum of insects, though Haymitch has warned me of the nasty gossip that follows a lady with a tan and a set of freckles.

A lady. I almost snort. Apparently, that’s what I am. Or what I need to be if anyone is ever going to ask for my hand in marriage. The thought ruins the good mood my morning stroll had put me in. I throw myself down among the tall grasses and begin plucking mindlessly at their stems.

Haymitch Abernathy, the legal guardian of me and my sister, has never been one to force us into doing things we dislike. I’m allowed to ride my horse alone, hunt with a bow and arrow, and take off into the woods whenever I please, like some woodland nymph from one of my father’s old stories. If it wasn’t for Prim and my greenhouse back at home I would probably live out here. Until it got cold of course. I’m allowed more freedom than any other young girl in the county, I’m sure. But not even Haymitch can protect me from matrimony.

My sister is excited for me. I imagine she’s fantasized about her wedding since she knew what a wedding was. To her, marriage is a romantic fairytale. A strong, handsome man of large fortune will sweep her off her feet and give her an estate to run and small, cherub-faced children to care for. To me, marriage sounds like a death sentence. They say if I’m lucky, I’ll marry for love as well as for fortune, but I never want to love someone as much as my mother loved my father. Because when he died, in a way, so did she. The only person I know that I truly love is Prim.

Primrose Everdeen, my little sister, was never the outdoorsy type like me. She’s fair, with golden blonde hair that hangs in ringlets past her slight shoulders, and a face as fresh and as pure as a spring dewdrop. She spends her days drawing, flower arranging, and studying languages with my old tutor Mrs. Winthrop.

“She’ll be a highly accomplished woman by the time I’m done with her. Mark my words, this young girl is special,” Mrs. Winthrop had said to Haymitch mere days after first starting Prim’s lessons. She had been my tutor for years and had never said anything nearly as flattering about me. Sullen Katniss Everdeen must have been a lost cause in her eyes.

I’m four years older than Prim who’s a mere twelve. We share the same parents, though we look almost nothing alike. Where she received the fair skin, blonde curls, and gentle blue eyes of our mother, I received the olive-toned, straight black, and storm grey palette of our father.

I sit up suddenly, aware that I left home hours ago and it must be getting time for my lessons. I dread heading back to that stuffy room where I’m required to sit straight and learn to be “lady-like” under the scrutinizing gaze of Ms. Effie Trinket, my new tutor. Manners are of the utmost importance to her, seeing as she makes her living off of teaching them. She considers being late an unforgivable sin.

With this in mind, I take my time gathering wild-flowers. There are so many at my feet, their delicate white and yellow petals peeking up amongst the grasses. I deftly craft two flower chains. One for me, which I place on the crown of my head, and one for Prim clutched in my hands. I notice some dirt under my nails and smile, wondering what Effie will say when I arrive late and grimy.

She purses her lips and crosses her arms as I enter the room. “Where were you?” She demands in that high pitched voice of hers.

“Out,” I shrug. I hadn’t seen Prim on my way in so I’m still clutching her flower crown. I offer it to Effie instead. “Flowers?” She squints at my offering, probably checking for bugs, before gingerly taking it and placing it down on a side table.

“Katniss, I need you to take today’s lesson seriously.” Her clipped tone sets my teeth on edge.

“I always do-” I start, but Effie cuts me off.

“Don’t lie to me, Katniss. I know you don’t care for etiquette. I know that to you a spoon is just a spoon, even when that spoon is a soup spoon and should only be used for soup!”

Again with the soup spoon thing, it was one time. But she’s right. I find learning manners and etiquette a waste of time. I’ve only been out in society for a short while. I barely attend balls seeing as I’m sixteen and prefer to stay at home anyway. I look up and realize that Effie is still talking at me.

“Are you even listening? Mrs. Winthrop was right, you are hopeless.” She sighs and wipes non-existent dust off of her shimmery lilac skirts. “It is imperative that you start paying attention and make some kind of progress in these lessons. Mr. Gale Hawthorne has recently taken possession of Templeton and is traveling here, as we speak, to take up residence indefinitely. Do you know what this could mean for you?” Suddenly, her annoyance melts away and is replaced by a teary, almost hopeful expression. The way this woman’s emotions swing back and forth between happy and exasperated hurts my head. She comes to clasp my face between her palms. “Mr. Hawthorne earns ten thousand a year, Katniss. Ten thousand!”

I have in fact heard of the Hawthornes. Maybe those lessons have had more of an impact on me than I thought. I was forced to spend months poring over books filled with the names and family trees of wealthy, well-known families that I had either already been acquainted with or might be acquainted with in the future. A healthy knowledge of people, especially rich people, will get you far in life. At least that’s what Effie says.

Gale Hawthorne is the eldest son of the wealthy businessman Ezra Hawthorne. I forget exactly how Mr. Hawthorne first made his fortune but the word mine sticks around in my head. What his mine produced, I’m not sure. Precious gems? Gold? Coal? All I know is the Hawthornes are incredibly wealthy, and Gale being the eldest son inherited when his father died. He is in possession of everything from the family fortune to a legion of servants to the many extravagant houses in Town. Now it seems he’s grown tired with the city and has decided to try his hand at country living. Good, I think. A wealthy man who’s used to the high society of the Capitol won’t last long out here. He’ll be out of my hair before the month’s up. Effie must not realize this since she’s still staring happily into my face.

“And?” I ask.

“Well, he’ll fall in love with you and ask for your hand in marriage!” She beams as if this is obvious. “If you play your cards right of course. For instance, he won’t find you very agreeable if all you do is scowl at him like you do me-” I jerk out of her grasp.

Of course. Marriage. It’s one of the only things Effie has talked about the entire time I’ve been her pupil.

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy warned me that'd you'd be. . .avoidant. But don’t you see? That’s the reason I’m here. To teach you how to win a husband! It’s an art you know.” She sighs, probably seeing the panicked look on my face, and slips back into a tone of tired annoyance. “You’ll have to marry someone, Katniss. Might as well marry knowing you’ll spend the rest of your life in the lap of luxury.”

She’s right, of course. There’s no way for women to make their own living. I can’t go to university to study business or law, I can’t run my own shop, I can’t inherit Haymitch’s estate or fortune. When he dies the money goes to some estranged cousin on his father’s side. I am a woman, therefore, I am destined to either marry or die poor and unprotected. And Prim…

If I don’t marry, then Prim can’t marry. One of the rules of proper Panem society is that a younger sibling cannot marry unless the eldest has, meaning I must be happily settled before my younger sister can even entertain the idea of love. If I don’t get married and Haymitch goes and does something stupid like die, there will be nothing I can do. For either of us. We’d be turned out of the house and left to beg for scraps. And I will not let that happen to Prim. Not again.

I force myself to swallow past the lump in my throat and spend the rest of the afternoon paying careful attention to Effie. She’s trying to teach me to communicate with men via body language, long gazes, and the fluttering of lashes.

This is the only way to save Prim, and with each horrible flutter I produce and each disappointed sigh from Effie, I feel my chances slipping away.

#everlark #thg #thg fanfic #everlark fluff #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #pride and prejudice #jane austen au #regency #everlarkfic #The Hunger Games

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

Text

The Earl (5/13)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, you may do so here.

CHAPTER FIVE

“What do you think the men do?” Suzanne asked, “when they retire to drink their port?”

After dinner, as the men of the aristocracy always did, the gentlemen of the party withdrew to a back room while the ladies meandered to the drawing room before retiring for the night.

“Cards and flatulence if I know my husband,” said Mrs. Green, one of the few other women who had been invited to the estate.

Scully gave an involuntary snigger of embarrassed laughter.

“Knowing John, it’s billiards,” Suzanne said, lowering herself onto a divan. “Always billiards.”

“I should like to join them,” Scully said.

“For cards and flatulence?” Mrs. Green said, “Leave me out of it.”

Suzanne chuckled. “If you mean the playing of billiards,” she said, “I should like to play as well. Perhaps one night we should eschew our social graces and storm the room.”

Scully stood. “What is stopping us from going now?” she asked.

“Other than Mr. Green’s gas?” Suzanne said, standing once again. “Nothing at all! I’m game.”

The other two women of the party declined, looking askance at Scully and Suzanne for their impropriety, but Scully, emboldened by Suzanne’s refreshing cheek, found she didn’t care. She knew Mulder would be happy to see her, and Byers had been nothing but kind and welcoming. With Suzanne by her side, they made their way toward their paramours.

When they got to the billiard room, they found several of the gentlemen (Mr. Green included) sitting around a card table, pipe smoke thick in the air (perhaps to cover for the flatulence, thought Scully).

“We’ve come to interrupt your port!” Suzanne announced as they entered, and all the eyes in the room turned to them.

“I can think of nothing I’d like more,” Sir Byers said with a smile.

Some of the other gentlemen looked unhappy, but not one of them said anything after their host had greeted the women so kindly. Suzanne moved to Byers’ side and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Scully scanned the room and found Mulder in the corner, looking at her with undisguised lust. His hair had a roguish part to it, which lent him an air of rakish charm — coupled with the sometime intensity of his gaze, it was no wonder the man had come into possession of an unearned reputation. She and her husband had made full use of their time together in Kent, but Mulder’s appetite for her bordered on insatiable. She met his eyes across the room and felt a flare below her waist -- she was growing wet for him from just a look.

Suddenly, she felt a warm hand on her arm. She turned to find Frohike beside her, his eyes light. He was holding out a glass of port towards her.

“Have you ladies come for the port or the cards?” he asked.

“Neither,” Scully said, graciously taking the proffered glass, “we have come for the company.”

“And the billiards!” Suzanne said, and Frohike nodded to Langly, who was standing by the billiards table, holding a cue. The three billiard balls sat on the table.

“May I have the first game?” Frohike asked.

She was about to answer in the affirmative when she felt the kinetic mass of Mulder come up behind her, could feel his breath in her hair and the solid warmth of him along her back.

“The first game my wife plays will be with me,” he rumbled, and Scully felt the peaks of her breasts turn to sharp points. “If it pleases her?”

She turned toward him, her face only inches from his.

“You always please me, my lord,” she said quietly enough that only Mulder and Frohike heard her. Frohike let out a long, low whistle.

Mulder stepped away from her and over to Langly, who handed over the cue without a word.

“We gentlemen usually play for a wager,” Mulder said to her, a challenge in his eyes.

“Name it,” she said, “though mind yourself, Lord Wexford,” she went on, “as I intend to win.”

Mulder’s mouth curled into a sly smile.

“Do you?” Came the comment from one of the gentlemen standing by the hearth, swirling a port glass. “I have not met a woman yet who can best a man at billiards.”

Scully chose to ignore his bigotry and answered him frankly.

“Billiards are a matter of geometry,” she said, “Physics, too. I excel at both.”

“She’s not a bad ball handler, either,” Mulder muttered, moving to the other side of the table.

She chose to ignore his comment, and kept her eyes on the gentleman at the hearth, who inclined his head in apology.

In fact, she did win. First against Mulder and then against Frohike, Byers and finally against Mr. Abernathy, the hearth dwelling gentleman, against whom she could not resist having a go. He had the decency to be a somewhat gracious loser, but Scully could tell his hide was chapped, about which she felt no small amount of satisfaction.

After the last game, she handed Langly her cue and addressed the room. “You gentlemen may pay me at the end of the week,” she said, “for I suspect your debts to me will only grow.”

Her statement was met with hearty chuckles from the men and an outright whoop from Suzanne. Scully excused herself to retire for the evening. Mulder did the same, looking at her with impressed surprise when they exited the room and began the long walk back to their chambers.

“Where did you learn to play billiards?” he finally asked once they were completely out of earshot of the room.

She stopped in the hallway and turned to look at him frankly.

“I have brothers, William,” she said.

He threw his head back, laughed and offered her his arm, which she took as they once again proceeded to meander back to their chambers.

“Take care calling me by my Christian name, Dana,” he said, his voice low, “I may grow to like it.”

The rare sound of her first name from his lips elicited a shiver through her that began at her ears and coursed right through to her sex.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her gaze pointed below his waistline, “today.”

That was all it took for him to twist her around, and he had her pinned to the wall of the hallway before she could even blink. His mouth was on her neck in the same breath, and she felt the solid heat of him pressing against her much smaller frame, his iron-hard erection pressed into her stomach.

His tongue ran rough down her shoulder and into the heaving flesh of her bosom, both of them het up to the point of sexual frenzy. She wanted him, could not wait, and almost, almost didn’t care if anyone came upon them here in the middle of the hallway.

She reached out and grasped him through the fabric of his breeches, squeezing and pulling him as best she could. He groaned into her décolletage and pumped his hips into her hand, yanking the front of her dress down to expose her breasts to the air.

“I will not make it,” he gasped on a breath, “to our chambers.”

Scully looked over his shoulder and noticed an inset window in the hall with long drapery nearly covering it -- they could disappear behind it, so long as they made love standing up.

“There,” she said, breathless herself, “the window behind you.”

He all but yanked her after him and once they were past the drapes and inside its enclosure, Mulder turned her around and pressed her front into the window, the glass cold as ice against the inflamed skin of her breasts. Her nipples were so hard she was surprised they didn’t make tink ing sounds when they encountered it.

She heard a rustling and then felt the cool night air on her backside. Mulder’s mouth closed hot around her earlobe and he whispered “Lift your right leg,” around it.

She did so and his hand grasped around her upper thigh, pulling it high and out and before she could draw breath, felt the silken steel of him sliding straight into her. They both groaned.

The fingers of his other hand found the swollen nub at the crest of her drenched sex, rubbing roughly. He pumped into her, grinding her chest and face into the window and she gasped at the pleasure of it.

In no time at all, she felt her release building, and then her crisis broke. She sobbed once, her senses overwhelmed as Mulder followed her, grasping the flesh of her thigh so tightly she knew she would bruise. She would treasure the marks, she knew. She had never felt anything so euphoric or carnal.

When their breathing began evening out, he relaxed his grip and leaned back, and she nearly fell back into him, so weak were her legs. She turned around to face him and he reached down and gently tucked her breasts back into her frock, smoothing the garment over her shoulders. Her eyes searched out his.

When hazel met blue, the look he gave her was so unguarded, so filled with undisguised tenderness, it made tears spring to her eyes. For all his outwardly careless insouciance, she knew Mulder cared deeply about a great many things. She had no doubt, and hadn’t for some time, that she was at the top of the list.

She leaned up and kissed him sweetly on the lips and pulled him out into the hallway, toward their chamber and their bed, toward her loving embrace.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder had joined the gentlemen for an afternoon of shooting, leaving Scully, Suzanne and the few scattered women to their own devices. Rather than spend this magnificent day sitting in the drawing room reading or taking turns about the room, Scully decided some fresh air would do her some good and chose to go for a ride.

Suzanne had offered to accompany her, but Scully remembered her mentioning that she wasn’t much of a horsewoman earlier in the week, so she politely declined the company. It would be good to get out on her own, she thought, it would give her some time with herself, which she hadn’t had much of, being more than happy to spend every waking minute (and all of the sleeping ones) at Mulder’s side.

Donning her newest riding habit -- a winsome teal frock that had been a part of her enormous order with the modiste -- she asked a maid to let the stables know she was on her way and to saddle Queen.

At the bottom of the grand staircase that led from the foyer, she noticed their newest footman Alexander hovering nearby. He caught her eye.

“Shall I follow you on your ride, my lady?” he asked. It was probably the thing to do, but the idea of getting out and being alone, truly alone, in the countryside after weeks and weeks in the populated madness of Town was more attractive than being prudent.

“No thank you, Alexander,” she said. “Or is it Alex?”

“Alex, if you would,” he said. He had a fine face -- a strong jaw and a thick head of beautiful, dark hair, if a slightly feminine nose. She felt a small regret that she hadn’t gotten to know him at all, seeing as he was one of the few members of their household staff that had traveled with them.

“Is Sir Byers’ staff treating you well here?” she asked.

“Very well, my lady,” he said, “it is a well run household.”

She smiled at this and turned to go. He hastened to open the door for her, and closed it efficiently behind her.

The day was crisp and bright, the greens of the fields around the estate almost blinding. They’d had several days in a row of a low grey drizzle, and the men were practically chomping at the bit for a spot of hunting when the sun came with the dawn. She drew in a deep breath of the fresh country air, and couldn’t wait to feel the powerful energy of Queen thrumming under her. It was the perfect day for a ride.

Just outside of the stables, she was met by a groom -- not Peter or Terrence, she noted -- who was holding a mount, a bay gelding by the look of it, outfitted in her saddle and tack, that was not her horse Queen. The groom was older than herself, and a little twitchy -- the man had trouble meeting her eye.

“I thank you,” she said politely, “but I requested that my own mount be readied for me, Mr….?”

“Barry, my lady,” he said. “My apologies, but Queeny had a swollen fetlock this morn. I think she mighta kicked her stall last night.”

“Is it serious?” Scully asked in concern.

“No ma’am,” he replied, “I mean my lady. I have a poultice wrapped around it now. Should be fine by midday tomorrow. B-b-but Easterly here should do well for you. He’s strong and should like a good ride.”

As if to prove the man’s point, Easterly pawed his hoof at the ground and nodded once, pulling at the reins.

“Spirited,” Scully said generously.

The groom’s eyes twitched and he looked to the side.

“A bit,” he said.

Scully appraised the gelding, who looked back at her as if daring her to turn him away. She smiled at him. She liked an animal with a little mettle.

“Very well,” she said, and the groom brought over a mounting block to help her bestride. The moment she sat down, Easterly took two shying paces sideways, and she took a firm hand with the reins. So this was a beast who needed to know who was in charge. Very well. She could and would teach him.

He pranced a bit until he passed under the lintel that led that to the field behind the estate, but once through it, she gave the horse his head and he took off like a shot, blazing across the meadow like a beast possessed.

It was a glorious day. Ashford Park was large — fields and pastures out to the horizon. The village nearby was over a far rise, and she could just make out the tower of its church.

Easterly seemed tireless, and she rode and rode until the beast’s flanks were heaving and she could smell his sweet sweat. She rode him to a large tree that bordered a small stream, dismounting to let him drink. Once his thirst seemed slaked, she secured him to the tree and left him to graze. From the small satchel secured to his side, she pulled a hunk of bread and cheese Prudence had wrapped in a light handkerchief and a new book she’d been dying to read — Jane Marcet’s book Conversations on Chemistry.

She settled down in the shade of the tree and read, the peace and grace of the day and her new life settling over her gently like the satin sheets on their bed at home. She had not felt so content since she was a child, when the troubles of her father’s estate were still years in the future. Eventually she dropped off to sleep — she had been exhausted lately, but had not, after all, been getting quite as much rest as she ought.

She was awoken by the restless whinnying of Easterly, who seemed to have had his fill of grass and was eager to get back to the stables.

Putting what was left of her lunch back into the leather satchel, she remounted the horse without much trouble and the second she fingered the reins, he was off like a shot. She let him run until she came upon a small dirt avenue between two fields.

As they made their way down it, she slowed Easterly to a walk, and he pulled several times at the reins, shying sideways as they made their way beside a high rock wall.

“Pestilential beast,” Scully muttered, missing the smooth gait and easy manner of Queen. The next time she was to ride a horse that was not her own, she would be picking the mount herself.

There was a stile in the wall about 10 yards away, and Scully got a prickly feeling as they approached it. Easterly grunted, pulling his head up once, twice. Just as they were even with the stile, a man jumped out onto their path and Easterly whinnied and spooked. He reared suddenly and Scully gave a sharp shout and was flung, unable to keep her seat in the awkward sidesaddle.

She fell straight backwards as the horse took off at a gallop, landing hard, her head cracking back against the firmly packed earth. She saw stars ascending in her vision, up, up.

A set of boots walked toward her and kneeled only a few feet away. Scully could just recognize the worn, unconcerned face of the groom who had given her Easterly. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and she struggled for a moment to speak.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, the black of unconsciousness closing in around her vision.

“Do not worry, my lady,” he said, his voice fading as she lost consciousness, “Duane Barry’s not like these other guys.”

#The X-Files #Fanfic #MSR #AU #Regency #The Countess #The Earl #Sequel #My fic

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hnd1baz · 3 years

Text

Evaluation. Seeing the Light.

Evaluation: Seeing the Light.

The first brief we had was seeing the light. This was us worth with different qualities of light and how to manipulate and mold it to suit our needs. I thought it was quite a decent starting project. It had the most variety and certainly put me through my paces trying to vary not only the light but locations and even models.

I enjoyed the whole thing overall but I would say the best for me was actually location scouting. I found a place that is my new favourite and once the good weather comes back in, I’ll be there.

In all honesty for this project, I never developed any new skills as I have been shooting outdoors for a long time. I did learn to manage my time better on a shoot due to the time restraints of the project and the current pandemic.

I researched Allan Schaller and the new photographer I found was Suzanne Stein.

I was already a huge fan of Alan and he influences my street photography every day. Suzanne has now become one of my top five and I strive to produce work to her level.

I really enjoyed using the gold reflector in Gourock to bring some tones into Linzi’s face. I have never done that with such dying light before.

I would say the most successful part of this project would have been the shot of Steph at the water fall. It was a difficult shot to capture and I am very critical of my work, but I can say I am very proud of that photograph.

Thankfully I never encountered any problems at all throughout this project!

I never found I had to “problem solve” per se but I did have to plan and execute the shoot in locations that weren’t local at all. As I had never been to two of them, we had to first scout, then plan the shoot and dates.

I wouldn’t do anything really differently other than not shoot in a pandemic as it did throw up some road blocks at times throughout this block.

I found my images quite straight forward to edit thankfully. Though my favourite image, the image of Steph, that was the one that gave me some issue. This was shot with the sun at her back and the waterfall cascading behind her. This created a lovely amount of bokeh balls and that’s why I chose the shot. Unfortunately, due to the sun hitting the water I had to choose to shoot for the highlights or shadows. Seeing as she was in the shadows, I chose her. Now I could’ve bracketed but at the time this never crossed my mind as I was in a precarious position to take this shot. I manage to recover the highlights enough to save the show but ideally would have like to recover them a bit more. APS-C's dynamic range for you!

I can’t say I would do much differently if I was to redo this. The restrictions in place due to light etc, made things a bit difficult but I was happy with the overall process and outcome.

#seeingthelight

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route22ny · 5 years

Photo

Exterior view, Martinique Hotel, circa 1989 as it was ending its 16 years as a notorious “welfare hotel” prior to its sale and (eventual) renovation. To my surprise my ancient New York Times password worked, and I was able to view two articles about this phase of the hotel’s history which are copied below. Image above is a reworking of a scan of my original photo.

***

Leaving a Welfare Hotel, Reluctantly

By Suzanne Daley, September 14, 1988

New York City's decision to empty a large and notorious welfare hotel has, paradoxically, brought as much fear as joy to the families who live there. No matter how bad the Martinique Hotel is, many are afraid to leave it.

To be sure, there are women like Vera Coley, who, after more than a year in the hotel, is looking forward to cooking a turkey and making banana pudding in her own home.

But there are others who are not eligible for an apartment. For many of them, the prospect of another unfamiliar shelter, even one less squalid than the Martinique, is frightening.

There are also women who have lived in the hotel for so long, advocates say, that, like prison inmates, they can barely imagine independent lives, with bills to pay and appointments to keep. ''Our immediate reaction to the city's decision was jubilation,'' said Robert M. Hayes, a prominent advocate for the homeless. ''But you go in there now and you see fear and trembling on the part of the mothers.

''If you go a little bit deeper, you realize that for them, hell has become a familiar cocoon. It's a subtle, more insidious harm that has been done than just living with rats and broken pipes.''

Last week, as the city began to empty the hotel - a battered 16-story building still bearing hints of a more elegant past - many aspects of life there went on as before. Mothers cooked on hot plates. Children chased one another in the dimly lighted hallways, the walls stained with urine and marred by graffiti.

But outside the building, on 32d Street near Broadway, where city-run vans taking families to look for apartments used to appear no more than once or twice a week, there was a traffic jam of sorts. Now the vans had shown up with a new urgency to help usher the tenants out.

Under the city's plan to stop using the privately owned hotel, families in the Martinique who have been homeless for more than a year are to be given priority for placement in vacant Housing Authority apartments and renovated city-owned apartments. In the past, such families, although eligible for apartments after a year, often did not get them because there were not enough to go around. For that reason, little pressure was put on families to board a van for an apartment-hunting trip if they chose not to.

But now, city officials said, families that do not take one of three apartments offered to them from a still-limited supply of units will be denied further hotel allowances, forcing them to move to large, city-run dormitories.

City officials said that about half of the families in the hotel, most of them headed by women, had lived there between one and two years. Seventeen had been there for three years. Another seven had lived there for more than four years. The cost of a room is about $1,600 a month, 50 percent of which is paid by the Federal government, 25 percent by the state and 25 percent by the city.

The city, facing the possibility of losing $70 million in Federal aid for homeless families, announced last month it would empty the Martinique as the first step in ending the use of welfare hotels by 1990. About 3,500 families live in welfare hotels in New York City.

'I'm Going to Kiss the Floor'

Mrs. Coley, a mother of five who has always wanted to get on a van, now expects to move into a Housing Authority apartment by the end of the year.

''When I get there, I'm going to kiss the floor,'' she said, sitting in the hotel's makeshift cafeteria, where free lunches are handed out. ''I swear I'll die before I come back to a place like this again.''

But others are reluctant to move. In most cases, these women say, the apartments that the city offers them are in distant neighborhoods and in poor condition. They say they have learned how to get by in the hotel and do not trust the city as a landlord.

''I got friends in some of those apartments,'' Janette Holland said, explaining why, after four years in the Martinique, she had never tried to get on a van. ''They're still living on hot plates, in terrible places. The city don't do right. Anything goes wrong they don't fix it.''

Acclimated to Squalor

But city officials and advocates for the homeless say that the reluctance of many women is more than a reaction to the apartments. They say that the women have become acclimated to life in a welfare hotel and used to receiving the special services provided there.

For instance, women in the hotel need only go downstairs to meet with city social workers, who will help make sure they get all the benefits they are entitled to. Twice a week, a medical van comes by offering free care for children. Charities arrange for Christmas presents and other holiday activities. And, day care is available.

''The longer people are in this situation, the harder it is to get them out,'' said William J. Grinker, the head of the city's Human Resources Administration. ''They get comfortable in a situation even though, to an outsider, where they are would seem terrible.''

Burnell Lopez and Yvonne McCullens, who were looking at apartments recently, both said they were not eager to take the city-owned apartments they were being shown. They described life in the Martinique as ''O.K.''

One Towel to a Person

Life there has little to do with what most people think of as hotel living. Most rooms have been converted into small, cramped units. There are no phones in the rooms and no cleaning services. New arrivals are issued sheets, towels - one to a person - and a mop and a bucket.

Usually, three or four people live in a room, in many cases sharing an adjoining bathroom with a family next door. The rooms are too small for a table, and meals are usually eaten on the edge of the bed.

Security guards, swinging billy clubs, patrol the building and cluster around bulletproof booths in the lobby. Residents must show identification cards to get in.

But Ms. Lopez and Ms. McCullens said they had learned how to get by.

'It Ain't So Bad'

''You mind your business and it ain't so bad,'' said Ms. McCullens, who has been homeless for five years. Ms. Lopez, who has been homeless for more than two years, agreed, though when questioned, both women talked of being scared in a hotel where robberies are frequent, drug deals are made, and a handful of killings have occurred.

Property has been stolen from both women's rooms, and Ms. Lopez said her children have been beaten up.

Still, neither woman has jumped at the apartments they have been shown. Ms. Lopez lingered recently in an apartment on West 140th Street in Harlem, unable to make up her mind whether to move there.

The windows offered a straight-on view into an abandoned building next door. There was no hot water; the floors were unfinished, and the appliances had not been installed.

Memories of 2-Family Houses

Even though she was assured that more work would be done on the apartment, Ms. Lopez kept shaking her head.

''I ain't never lived in a place like this,'' she said several times, noting she was raised in Brooklyn. ''I always had a place in a house, a two-family house.'' Finally, however, she accepted it. Those not eligible for apartments are to be sent to shelters offering private quarters and, in many cases, cooking equipment, which is not available at the Martinique.

For the most part, this will mean better living conditions, Mr. Grinker said. But few of the women believe that, and some who have moved from shelter to shelter say they would rather stay at the Martinique than move again.

After four months of homelessness and stays in six different shelters and hotels, Donna Luck sighed at the prospect of a new shelter.

''I'm stationed here,'' she said, ''and now I've got to leave again. What's it going to be like this time?''

https://www.nytimes.com/1988/09/14/nyregion/leaving-a-welfare-hotel-reluctantly.html

***

As a Hotel Is Emptied, The Poor Move On

By Josh Barbanel, December 27, 1988

As a gentle rain washed the dusty marquee of the Martinique Hotel in Herald Square the other day, Madeline Ventura, her five children and two cats scampered up the back of a yellow moving van for a ride to their new home in Brooklyn.

The Venturas are among scores of families who have been hurriedly moved out of the Martinique in the last few days as the Koch administration rushes to empty one of the largest and most troubled welfare hotels in the city by the end of the year.

The Venturas' meager possessions, accumulated during more than two years of homelessness, were sprawled around them in the back of the van.

Bags of Dirty Laundry

There were two dolls, still wrapped in plastic, and a blackened hot plate that served as the family's kitchen. Plastic bags bulged with dirty laundry. A plastic Christmas tree protruded from a box.

The night before, a city worker had knocked on a steel door spray-painted with the number 801, the entrance to a two-room suite at the Martinique, and told the Ventura family to get ready to move the next day.

''I didn't even have a chance to do the wash,'' Mrs. Ventura said.

Last summer, long after New York City's welfare hotels had become a national scandal, and after the city had been threatened with an imminent cutoff of Federal funds to pay the hotel bills, Mayor Koch pledged to empty the 46 hotels it used to house the homeless by July 1990.

The Martinique was chosen to be first, city officials said, because it was one of the biggest hotels, because it was the target of a barrage of complaints in the neighborhood and because it had become a symbol of the horrors of a system that paid exorbitant sums to warehouse families, many already troubled, in shabby, crowded hotels. To rent one room for a family of four costs $1,800 a month.

13 Families Remain

Only last March, 462 families - about 500 adults and 1,500 children - lived along the Martinique's long and noisy corridors.

When the moving was halted for the weekend, only 13 families remained, city officials said, along with a half-dozen long-term tenants and a few squatters.

About half of those who have left have moved to renovated apartments in city-owned buildings or projects.

The others - those who have been homeless for less than a year - have been sent to family shelters run by not-for-profit groups under contract to the city.

The speed with which the city is emptying the hotel, at 32d Street and Broadway, has raised questions about why such steps could not have been taken sooner and what will happen to the once-grand hotel after the last residents move.

Under a law intended to protect single-room occupancy hotels, the owners of the Martinique are barred from demolishing it or converting it. They have begun lobbying to win an exemption, and have warned that without relief they may lease it to a drug or prison program.

''It is for everyone's advantage to come up with a solution,'' said Howard J. Rubenstein, the public-relations executive who is representing the owners of the Martinique as well as a community group trying to shut welfare hotels in the area.

The Martinique, built at the turn of the century by William R. H. Martin in what was then one of the city's finest neighborhoods, has been used as a welfare hotel since 1973.

In its last days as a welfare hotel, moving vans lined the hotel entrance beneath the French Renaissance facade. The dimly lighted lobby, once alive with the sounds of children, has grown quiet.

Packing Up the Toys

The 18 public agencies, social service contractors and volunteer groups that provided food, medical care, counseling and other services in the hotel's old ballroom have begun to shut down and move out. As Mrs. Ventura walked down eight flights of stairs for the last time, the staff of a day-care center run by the Association to Benefit Children was packing up toys and child-size tables for storage.

''I'm happy this hotel is closing,'' said Lourdes Rivera, the director of the center. ''I wish they were all going to good homes,''

For the Venturas, the closing of the hotel has meant a bumpy ride in the back of the van to a spacious, freshly painted apartment in a housing project at 86 Carlton Avenue in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn.

The family - including Mrs. Ventura's husband, Peter, who missed the movers because of an appointment at a Methadone clinic - will pay $161 a month to rent a four-bedroom apartment, equipped with a new refrigerator and stove, in a project named after Walt Whitman. The welfare system will pay the rent and give the family $590 in cash each month.

Flypaper and a Sour Smell

The Venturas lived in two squalid rooms for most of the last two and a half years. Before then they had been evicted from their apartment in Far Rockaway while Mrs. Ventura and Peter - her boyfriend at the time -were addicted to cocaine. Neighbors had complained.

Mrs. Ventura's journey toward homelessness began much earlier. She dropped out of high school when she was 16, married, gave birth to a son and divorced a year later.

She later settled down with another man, had four more children, including twin daughters, Angela and Carmen Sanchez, now 9 years old. That relationship faltered and Mrs. Ventura turned to drugs after the death of another child, who was born prematurely.

Suffering from depression, she turned to a psychiatrist for help, and received a string of prescriptions for mood-altering drugs, without much counseling to go with it, she said. From there she moved to other pills bought on the street, and to cocaine.

When the family was finally evicted two and a half years ago, they were placed in the Forbell Street Shelter in Brooklyn, a city-run shelter, and Mrs. Ventura got some help. A city case worker noted the needle marks on Mrs. Ventura's arm and referred her to a detoxification center at Kings County Hospital. The Venturas, both now enrolled in a Methadone program, were married in April.

At the Martinique, Mrs. Ventura was stunned by the widespread availability and use of drugs, particularly crack.

''I've seen kids as young as my son here selling,'' she said, pointing at her son, Rafael Sanchez, 11.

Keeping to Themselves

The family survived in the forbidding environment, she said, by staying out of the hallway and keeping mostly to themselves, Her sons became altar boys at St. John's Roman Catholic Church, a few blocks away.

During their stay in the hotel, the oldest son, James, was left back in the 7th grade. His mother said the stress of living in the Martinique may have been a factor. On moving day, as a photographer recorded the packing, James stayed out of the pictures.

New York City has put up families evicted from their homes or burned out in fires for decades. This system, developed for temporary emergencies, faltered in the early 1980's, when a shortage of low-income housing began turning homelessness into a permanent emergency.

Families, many of them headed by single parents from the least stable neighborhoods and ravaged by poverty and drugs, were crowded in tiny rooms along long corridors. In some hotels they shared communal bathrooms with pimps and prostitutes.

Last July, when Patricia Stanley moved with her 12 children from the Martinique to a city-owned building, she said she saw the impact of hotel life on her children.

Learning About Sinks and Tables

When they moved, her son took his plate and sat on the floor to eat, even though they now had a table. Her daughter, she said, ''put the dirty dishes in the bathtub because that was the way we washed the dishes in the hotel.''

Miss Stanley told her story at a Congressional hearing in Manhattan last week called by Representative Charles E. Schumer of Brooklyn. She identified herself as the character known as ''Kim,'' in ''Rachel and her Children,'' a book about life in the Martinique, by Jonathan Kozol.

Mr. Schumer, observed that the hotel system appeared to have been designed ''to allow everybody to avoid responsibility'' for it. The city filled entire hotels with welfare families, but maintained that it was only renting one room at a time and that it had little control over hotel owners.

3,600 Apartments Allocated

For years advocates for the homeless have pressed the city to get out of welfare hotels, and for years the city said that it lacked the resources to do more than make a dent in the problem - without increased Federal aid.

But after the threat of losing more than $70 million in emergency Federal aid to pay the hotel bills, the city reassessed the problem and decided to allocate 3,600 housing authority apartments to the homeless as they become vacant over a two-year period.

The administration has also developed plans in the last two years to renovate every vacant building shell owned by the city.

But advocates for the homeless remain skeptical over the plans. Even after the city gets out of hotels, they noted, there will still be hundreds of men, women and children in barracks-style shelters. The city does not plan to close the last shelter until 1991.

Series of Crises

The rush to close the Martinique has created large and small crises.

The New York Children's Health Project, a group that provided medical care to children out of a van parked in front of the Martinique, complained that the move was so rushed that for weeks it was unable to arrange follow-up care for hundreds of children.

For Noris and Luis Espinosa, who are still living in the Martinique, the problems were even more complicated. Last October, after their son, Samuel, 5, was injured in a bathroom fall, their four children were placed in foster care.

Because their children are in foster care and the welfare case closed, they are not being relocated to permanent housing. And they say that without permanent housing, they cannot get their children out of foster care.

The case is complicated because Mrs. Espinosa, a native of the Dominican Republic, is not eligible for welfare, and her husband, who is from Puerto Rico, was never listed on the welfare case record. Ann Ormsby, a spokesman for the Human Resources Administration, said the city was looking into the case.

For the Venturas, despite some confusion, the move out of the hotel was a promising start. While the cats cowered in the new living room, the children rushed through the empty rooms, picking out bedrooms, opening closets.

''There is a playground right outside the window,'' Angela exclaimed.

And James, who hid from the photographer in the Martinique, now nudged the photographer's elbow. ''It's O.K. to take my picture now,'' he said.

https://www.nytimes.com/1988/12/27/nyregion/as-a-hotel-is-emptied-the-poor-move-on.html

#1980s #NYC #homelessness #bad old days #original photography

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