#i honestly cannot express the level of disdain i hold for this one person i have to deal with

[evviejo]

i hope i never have to interact with incompetent people again (unlikely), because i don't like being an inconvenience, but i will sure as hell make your life harder if your incompetence does the same to mine

[anonil88]

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

[lamiaward]

Useless Lesbianism at its finest ; or how Hecate Hardbroom really, really cannot tell platonic friendships from decades-old pining

Spoiler alert : Pippa isn’t that much better, honestly.

I don’t own the Worst Witch. Also this takes place before the finale, or the finale and a New Dawn just never happened. My personal headcanon is that there is a special potion for the worst criminals in the WW universe, which strips them from their magic (it’s basically their version of the Death Sentence).

Hecate Hardbroom terrifies even the older years sometimes, using a cultivated image that has taken years and years to build. Nearly everything about her, from her austere dresses to her low drawl is meant to terrify the girls into behaving, into making sure that the accidents are kept down to a manageable level.

Some of the girls are met with her disapproval and anger more than others. Some, like Mildred Hubble or Enid nightshade, are almost used to ( in as much as you get used to it) her barbed comments. Others, like Ethel Hallow, are spared almost the entirety of HB’s anger and disapproval.

Not this time. This time, Hecate isn’t just exasperated or “astounded by the sheer ineptitude”. The girls have never seen her like this, and they all hope they never have to again. It is as if everyone has been struck by a Medusa spell, and their expressions are properly terrified. Even Ethel’s usual arrogance is faltering, although she is too stubborn to actually admit it yet.

“ Miss… Hallow “ Hecate finally says, and several people flinch. Hecate isn’t even raising her voice but her tone is honestly poisonous. Ethel swallows, opens her mouth to say something- and is transferred away before she can say anything. Felicity stares at the spot where her friend used to be.  

“Miss -?” Felicity starts to ask in a trembling voice, but miss Hardbroom cuts her off.

“ She is in miss Cackle’s office. I trust you had nothing to do with … this?”

“N-no miss Hardbroom” Felicity manages.

Hecate ignores her, and walks over to Mildred. She is still supported by Maud and Enid, who caught her when she suddenly stumbled and lost consciousness. She looks like she is having a particularly bad fever; her hair is sticking to her face by sweat, her eyes are rolling beneath nearly-closed eyelids and her cheeks are very flushed. There are some spots of lime green potion on her clothes from when she dropped the spoon in her cauldron.

“ The class is dismissed”

Enid and Maud wrench their eyes away from their best friend for a moment. “Miss- “ she doesn’t allow them to finish, but forces herself to take the girl from her friend’s hold and transfers them both into the infirmary. She immediately allows the medi-witch to take Mildred from her as she comes rushing towards them, irritated look rapidly morphing into concern.

“Miss Hardbroom?”

“ We have a situation. Ethel Hallow has put  .. – “ she shows the medi-witch the vial she has had in her right hand since Felicity cracked and admitted that Ethel had put something in Mildred’s orange juice, I don’t know what, miss Hardbroom, and that is why Mildred had suddenly become so ill.

“ this in Mildred Hubble’s orange juice” she doesn’t have to say the name, as the potion is instantly recognizable, and any half-competent medi-witch would recognize it from the distinctive colour alone- it looks like melted silver bars.

“ The Vanitate potion” she says, staring at it with plain horror. “ How would that girl even get access to its ingredients, it is only made when- “

“ The Hallows never cared much for the rules” Hecate just says, remembering a moment in her fourth year of witching school where Ursula Hallow had merely raised her eyebrow and laughed when Pippa had spat against her that harming another witch like that was against the Code. There are things stronger than the code, such as real power.

Miss Grace is bending over Mildred, checking her pulse. “How much did she imbibe?”

“ 240 millilitres”

“ Did she- “

“ She seemed to have followed the recipe perfectly” 

“ Figures. What is wrong with that girl?”

Hecate would like to think Ethel Hallow would not be a nuisance the way she is now if Mildred Hubble was not at Cackle’s academy, but the truth is that the girl is altogether too much like her mother.

The sound of running, and the door slamming open, cuts off Hecate’s answer. Maud and Enid stumble inside, completely ignoring Hecate’s sharp reprimand and crowding around Mildred’s bed.

“Millie!”

“ Girls. I did not give you permission to barge in here like uncivilized – “

“That’s all right, miss Hardbroom” the medi-witch interrupts, rolling her eyes. She looks at Enid and Maud. “ You can stay, but only if you keep out of the way, all right” Hecate looks at her with horror, and walks over to her, leaning in just enough that she can hear the soft whisper Hecate uses to speak.

“ Considering the…. Situation, is it wise to allow them to stay here?”

“ You have been teaching for decades Hecate Hardbroom, all that will accomplish is these girls destroying my infirmary to get to their friend again” she ignores Hecate’s affronted look, and marches over to a cabinet in the corner. She waves her hand, and takes several vials from it before marching over to a table and putting them down.

As she is measuring ingredients, the door slam open again, and Hecate flinches badly again. Before she can gather her wits enough to think of a scathing remark, it registers who the second person barging in is, and she completely loses her natural gift of pointed barbs when looking into the brown, worried eyes of one Pippa Pentangle.

“Miss… Pentangle” she says, as soon as she has miraculously recovered her ability to speak. She doesn’t mean to sound quite so distant and awkward and well, herself, but old longing makes her usual dusty social abilities worse than ever.

Pippa looks up from her place next to Julie Hubble, and manages a smile at her. Hecate doesn’t catch it, as she is too focused on where the Hubble woman is being awfully familiar, with her hand- the one that isn’t reaching for her daughter- in Pippa’s. With every passing second, she notices more about the two women- about how Julie is leaning slightly against Pippa, how Pippa is not dressed in her usual witching robes, but an old t-shirt with the words “….” , how Pippa’s hair is up in a very messy ponytail and she is not wearing any make-up. Her thoughts are racing, each one more painful than the last and-

A soft touch to her arm makes her jump. When she looks to her right, Pippa is standing to her. A quick glance away reveals that while Hecate was lost in her own thoughts,  miss Hubble has walked over to the medi-witch and is talking to her in a hushed voice.

“Are you all right, Hiccup?” Pippa asks carefully.

“I am fine, miss Pentangle” she says stiffly, shoulders drawn tight and failing to focus on her breathing instead of .. whatever she feels observing Pippa and Ms Hubble being so familiar. “ I was unaware that you and Ms Hubble were this familiar” she does not intend to sound almost revolted, she really doesn’t, but decades of forcing herself to keep her foolish, disastrous feeling for Pippa Pentangle at bay has made being disdainful around Pippa almost a reflex.

There is a brief fleeting moment where Pippa’s eyes flash with anger, before she pushes it down. “ I am aware of your opinion on non-magical people, but Julie is a lovely woman and I, for that matter, am able to choose my friends without requiring your permission”

Pippa is staring at her, chin jilted up and that familiar defiant gleam in her eyes that almost makes Hecate smile. She had always been equally fond and exasperated by Pippa’s stubbornness, and there is something painful and at the same time warm in her chest at the thought that Pippa is still so willing to defend her friends.

Pippa finally breaks the eye contact, leaving Hecate’s stomach feeling as though she has mistakenly touched a fresh batch of Aruncus Dioicus. She walks over to Julie again, and Hecate watches as she hugs Julie and tells her something that makes the woman smile very briefly. Hecate looks at the door, wondering if she ought to leave or-

“Miss Hardbroom” Aye calls her name, so she walks over stiffly and looks down at the table littered with flasks, ground flower petals, very old pages that look more like papyrus than paper and potion equipment. The woman nods at the table across, which is nearly empty. “ You do the part that requires the stamping, I will mix the ingredients already”

Hecate merely nods, making everything she needs appear with a simple wave of her hand. She rolls up her sleeves and gets to work, allowing herself to get lost in the repetitive motions, the weighing and measuring of ingredients, the careful cutting of seeds and petals and the collection of the more macabre (although Hecate is so used to it, that she hardly blinks when cutting up frog’s liver) parts.

The sparse, stuttering comments of Mildred’s friends, the answers of the medi-witch to ms. Hubble’s questions, Pippa’s familiar, soft voice- it is all drowned out as she works, tirelessly grinding petals, carefully adding just enough unicorn’s tears, stirring it clockwise thirteen times and heating it all to exactly 73 degrees. By the time she looks up, her table is just as crowded (although more organized) as Aye’s, and her arms are aching slightly.

When she looks around the room, her throat closes unexpectedly. Enid and Maud are huddled around Mildred, sleeping while still holding each other. Enid, usually a sort of whirlwind, is sprawled across the bed and very still. Maud, usually the rational one amongst her friends, mutters nearly feverishly under her breath. Julie is slumped in the chair, nearly asleep but still staring at her daughter with red eyes. Pippa is sitting next to her, sometimes stroking her hair or squeezing her hand.

Hecate stretches awkwardly, freezing when Pippa looks up at her and just stares at her for a moment. There are bags under her brown eyes, but they are still observant, and Hecate shivers in the all-too familiar way. She has been astounded, confused, weary and pained because of Pippa’s focus on her, and the effect of those eyes on her has never really lessened.

She flinches when Aye grabs her arm for a moment, mutters “ you will spell a witch sooner with potions than with empty flattery, or staring, Hecate Hardbroom” and walks away to presumably do something useful as they wait for the potion to be completed. She hesitates for only a moment before quickly walking over to Pippa, and summoning the pepper-up potion she keeps in her nightstand.

“ Here”

Pippa looks at it, then takes it carefully. “ I loathe taking these” she glances at Mildred. “ But I suppose I have little choice, don’t I?”

As she takes careful sips from the potion, Hecate quickly formulates and disregards three different ways to apologize, before swallowing and forcing the words out. “ I should not have judged the relationship between you and Ms Hubble the way I did. It was unprofessional”

Pippa smiles. “ That’s a shoddy excuse of an apology, Hiccup” before Hecate has time to react (rudely, or “unprofessionally”) to it, she shrugs and says “ But I forgive you, and I apologize for my reaction”

“That is hardly necessary. You were merely defending a … friend” Pippa glances sharply at her at the way she speaks the word “friend”, but Hecate can hardly explain that it isn’t (not completely) that Ms Hubble is Ordinary, but the fact that she struggles with Pippa having all these people in her life, people more colourful, more relaxed, more sociable than Hecate could ever be. People so suited to Pippa’s warm personality, and exuberant character. People Hecate could never hope to compete with, never thought she could compete with- exactly the kind of people that Hecate thought would be much more suited to be Pippa’s friend, make her much happier.

Perhaps Pippa doesn’t completely misunderstand (although just the idea that she would know the complete reason, makes Hecate feel like that time her father had discovered she had foregone an hour of studying to stargaze with Pipa) because she just sighs slightly, and hands Hecate the potion back with a smile. “ I have always been rather defensive of my friends”

They’re both standing in almost companionable silence for a while before Pippa asks “ is the girl finally going to be expelled now?”. Hecate is almost surprised by the steel in Pippa’s voice, and all the edges, before she remembers that in their fifth year, someone had made the mistake of making the usual hateful comments towards Hecate in front of Pippa. The same edge had been in Pippa’s voice as she had first punched the girl hard enough to throw her to the ground, and then had loomed over her, words quickly reducing the girl to a terrified, wailing mess. Hecate had mistaken her own breathlessness in that moment for fear or adrenalin but she later discovered there just was something incredibly attractive about Pippa assertive like that.

“ I certainly hope so” Hecate admits

Pippa looks at Mildred again. “Hope isn’t good enough, Hiccup. This is not merely a gross violation of the Code, it is more than that”

“Pippa-“ the breath is knocked out of Hecate when Pippa looks up at her, and there’s tears in her eyes.

“Imagine how you would feel if someone were to attempt to douse the magic in you”

Hecate does not necessarily want to. Perhaps magic is too connected to her father’s expectations, to his strictness, and his refusal to allow her to prioritize anything apart from her magical studies. Perhaps it is too connected to her name’s heritage, to a dozen generations of Hardbroom successes and her father’s mistakes that sullied the Hardbroom name, and made the terror connected with almost too much magical power, too fervent study of the craft, solidify into sheer hatred. But still, magic is something precious to Hecate. It has always been there, has always made the hard time just slightly easier, gave her something else to focus on apart from her mother leaving her and her father’s mistakes. Just the thought of losing it feels as though as frostgiant has reached into her ribcage, and closed a fist around her heart.

“The girl will be expelled” Hecate doesn’t know why the sudden certainty, and the willingness to give up one of her least incompetent students, comes from.  “I will personally see to it, Pippa”

Pippa stares at her, but Hecate doesn’t think her expression is one of surprise. “ Then I know it will happen” she smiles, and Hecate can’t regret the rare impulsive promise, because Morgana’s cauldron.

And then she feels like she might actually bless that impulsive decision, because she is hugging Pippa again, and it seems that her body is always starved for that (also very rare). Pippa still smells perfect, the smell of petrichor and a hint of flowers, nothing like the too-heavy scents so many witches favour which Hecate despises. Her arms encircle Hecate perfectly and she is one of the few people whose hugs do not feel stifling.

“ Thank you” she whispers, then slowly pulls back. Before Hecate can feel that loss, her cheeks flush beneath warm lips that press to her cheek for one, two, three seconds and then very slowly leave. She decides not to say anything, less she completely embarrasses herself by – Goddess forbid- stammering.

She clears her throat, nods, and makes up some excuse about needing to talk to Ada. When she has left the room, she realizes her excuse is actually true; she probably does need to talk to Ada. So she transfers herself to her friend’s office, and find her friend with a very unusual stormy expression. Ada usually remains cheery, or at least friendly, under the worst conditions, but today, her expression is nearly enough to make Hecate flinch and transfer away.

She walks over to stand next to Ada, returning her nod, and starts to make tea. As she is adding the ludicrous amount of sugar Ada takes in her tea, the woman breaks the silence. “ I have mirrored her parents. Mister Hallow was the slightly more reasonable of the two”

“ What were their reactions?” Ada doesn’t even smile at Hecate, which tells Hecate how Ada is at least as exhausted as she is.

Ada sighs. “ It is awful of me to say, but I am surprised that with parents like that, young Sybil and Esmeralda turned out the way they did. Ethel is the only child in that family that is anything like the parents”

“unfortunately so, yes” Hecate drawls. Silences between them are hardly ever uncomfortable, Ada being one of the few people that knows Hecate, and doesn’t get offended when she needs silence or makes the usual mistakes she makes when there is any kind of social interaction (professionality has always been something easy, instinctual; anything else is as foreign to Hecate as Ada’s hugs-and-cakes approach to education).

This silence, however, is tense. Hecate knows Ada well enough that the situation is affecting her immensely, and that she requires gentle words or a soft touch. Neither are Hecate’s forte, far from it, but she can try.

She takes a step towards Ada, lays a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “ The girl’s faults are her own, Ada. They are hardly a reflection of your abilities as headmistress, and the fact that we have Mildred.. Hubble running amok hardly improves the situation”

“ You have to stop blaming that girl, Hecate”

“ I am not blaming her, Ada. I am just concerned, surely you have noticed Mildred’s aptitude to attract trouble, and to completely ignore the consequences of her actions “

Ada puts her tea down, and sighs. There is a piece of cheesecake on her desk, but she doesn’t even look at it. “ If I know anything about Ursula Hallow, she will not let this matter go quietly”

“ We cannot allow her actions to remain unpunished again, Ada”

“ I quite agree Hecate, but if we are not very careful, it could mean the end of Cackle’s”.

And Ada is right, of course she is, it is why Ethel has lied and cheated and done far worse and is still enjoying her place at Cackle’s, and Hecate feels her magic protest uncomfortably beneath her skin at the thought of another Hallow getting away with near sociopathic behaviour. But the Hallows have always managed to hide their true nature behind empty pleasantry, have always wielded philanthropy as a weapon and justified their cruelty by attacking the character of their victims. Hecate had once known first-hand just how practised the Hallow family is in taking care of scandals, quietly and with frightening efficiency. Hecate might be one of the most-respected members in her field, but respect does not equal popularity, and unless Ursula would be reckless enough to suddenly challenge her to a duel, it matters nought that Hecate’s magical skills have always been superior.

They sit in the office for a long time, sipping their tea in tense silence.

Pippa is staying, Julie Hubble has moved into the infirmary and wrestling a dragon would’ve been easier than convincing Ada that Enid and Maud could not miss their chanting courses. She hasn’t slept for three days, Mrs Hallow has already threatened (in a very indirect way and with a smile that had Hecate’s skin crawling) her, Ada and virtually every teacher she ran into during her visit. Pippa is staying. She has had to balance grading, lesson plans and aiding Aye with the potion for Mildred, has taken Wide-Awake potion enough times that her supply for two months has been depleted and she has been left alone with Jullie Hubble (and an unconscious Mildred Hubble) not just one, but three excruciating times. Pippa is staying.

She walks into the infirmary, her usual check-up before her class of the day starts, when she stumbles and strong arms quickly catch her.

“Hiccup, are you all right?” Pippa is staying, and her presence is more of a health hazard than the overdose of Wide-Awake potion in some ways, her kind brown eyes more dizzying than sleep deprivation, and her voice still makes Hecate want to –

“ I- yes, fine” she manages to pull herself together, and attempts to escape Pippa’s embrace. Pippa’s arms just tighten around her, and before she knows what is happening or she can talk Pippa out of it( Pippa just rolls her eyes, and ignores her when she tries), she being half-carried away from the infirmary.

“I have classes in fifteen minutes” she protests

“ I already informed Ada you would not be teaching today Hiccup. Honestly, you look like you’ve cast your last spell, the girls will hardly benefit from you working yourself sick. Now sit down, I will make you some tea”

By this time, they had arrived in the room that was Pippa’s for as long as she was staying. Hecate had been here once before, during one of the excruciating moments she had been alone with Julie and the other woman had asked for Pippa and finally given Hecate a reason to hightail out of there. Still, she had never been there long enough to observe the small changes Pippa had made, and she was quietly observing them as she was pushed down gently on a sofa.

Pippa hands her a cup of tea, then returns to the small table next to the window. “ Have you had a proper breakfast today, Hiccup?”

Hecate sniffs. “ Toast and marmalade is perfectly acceptable, thank you”

Pippa smiles “ I haven’t had breakfast yet, so will you eat a bit more even if it is to make me feel less self-conscious?”

Hecate hesitates ; she wasn’t a fan of the sort of breakfast she knew miss Drill partook in, but nods after a look at Pippa’s hopeful expression. “ That would be acceptable”

She is rewarded with a bright smile, and Pippa dashing over to press a quick kiss to her cheek that has her stomach nearly reject her sober breakfast. She hopes the flush she was feeling wasn’t too noticeable, or that Pippa would ascribe it to the temperature (certainly higher than Hecate was used to) of the room.

Before Hecate can truly make a fool of herself, and accidentally hurt Pippa again with one of her barbs, Pippa starts talking again while she prepares breakfast. “ I am aware that using magic for this is less complicated, but the quality is always effected when you do that. And I hardly think it is fair to trouble Cackle’s staff even more, they have been so very kind in letting me stay here, and helping me coordinate my stay with my duties at Pentangle’s”

Hecate swallows a mouthful of tea. “Fortunately, the holidays are almost upon us”

Pippa sighed happily. “ Fortunate indeed. Staying here will be far less complicated as soon as the schoolyear at Pentangle’s has ended”

Hecate attempts to discreetly hide her choking on her tea. “  You.. will be staying – “ she coughs, once “ for the duration of the holidays?”

“Yes, I have already discussed it with Ada. As Mildred will not be able to return home immediately, I offered Julie that I would stay to help her”

“I.. see” Hecate touched her watch with her right hand, but it did not bring the usual calm. Her stomach continued to behave as though a band of especially rambunctious leprechauns was throwing a party in it.  

“You know, I truly believe you and Julie could become friends” Pippa turns around and rolls her eyes teasingly as Hecate doesn’t manage to suppress a sneer.

“ I doubt that” she sips her tea, and adds the word to lessen the blow “ Pipsqueak”

“ Julie is very knowledgeable of Ordinary medicine, which is actually similar to the art of potions. And she might be less organized than you Hiccup, but she is still a great deal more organized than I. You will find that she keeps all of Mildred’s early pictures very well organized, for example”

Hecate smirks. “ It hardly takes effort to be more organized than you, Pipsqueak”

Pippa looks like she is going to protest, then laughs. “Well, I can hardly argue differently, as we are standing in my room” they both glance at the chaos ; at the papers in shuffled stacks on Pippa’s desk, the books that appear to have been thrown on her bed and on the ground next to it, the clothes hanging over chairs( Hecate wills her cheeks to return to their original colour when she spots a piece of lingerie next to Pippa’s bed).

“… although in my defence, I have had precious little time to organize this mess” Hecate realizes she has been distracted, distracted enough that she had missed most of what Pippa had said. She touches her watch again.

“ Am I supposed to believe you ever organize?”

“ I’ve told you, there is organization to this chaos. I can find anything I need” Pippa protests.

Hecate just arches her eyebrows slightly, and Pippa rolls her eyes again, walking over with eggs, bacon, toast and even donuts. Hecate stares at the donuts with extra scorn.

“ Pleas explain to me this miraculous system. Why is there an ancient book of runes thrown on your bed, or why are you using a dried flower as a bookmark? I assume that there is a good reason that the clothes you have worn yesterday are thrown over a chair, and that the clothes of the day before that are covering some of the papers you still need to correct, and- “ Hecate’s eyes widen and she splutters when Pippa shoves a donut in her mouth with a very mischievous smile.

“ Eat hiccup, you’re still more bones than flesh”

Hecate finally decides that eating the sugary contraption is superior to choking. But only barely.  Pippa chuckles when she catches the way Hecate is glaring at her, and plucks the remaining piece of donut from her hand to practically devour it. And then-

She licks her fingers, slowly and without looking away from Hecate. Who stands abruptly, mutters something disdainful about “donuts for breakfast, honestly” and transfers to her classroom, to do her actual job. Or tries to, because she finds Dimitry there.

“ so you – “ Dimitry cuts herself up and focuses on Hecate as soon as she appears. “ Miss Hardbroom, I thought you had taken ill?”

“ I am fine” even though the room is tilting slightly.

“ You don’t look fine” Dimitry says, casting a quick look over her.

“ I am- “

“ Girls, read the instructions one more time. If I hear something, I will have you all do ten push-ups” and then she has the nerve to grasp Hecate’s arm, and pull her outside the classroom.

“ Miss Drill- “

“Listen, you look like you’re halfway down to Hades already and I have strict instructions from one pink witch to not allow you to talk your way into the classroom “

“ I hardly think that Ada – “

Dimitry grins. “ Nope. Pippa Pentangle has personally told me that if I allow you to teach and further exhaust yourself, I will “see first-hand what a star looks like because she will fling me into space”. She is real terrifying that one, if she wants to be”.

“This is ridiculous, I am fully capable to teach and – “

“ Listen Hecate, I am not going to risk being punched in the face just because you are too stubborn to admit you’ve pushed yourself past your limits”

Hecate rolls her eyes. “ Do not be foolish, miss Pentangle is a professional, who would hardly lower herself to punching you”

“Hm-hm. You really want to bet your cauldron on that?”

Hecate makes to transfer, only to be stopped by a steel grip around her wrist and even more steel voice. “ Don’t you dare, Hecate Hardbroom”

As Hecate freezes and fumbles for something to say, Pippa turns to Dimitry and smiles sweetly. “ Thank you for trying, at least”

Dimitry shrugs.  “Sure. Good luck with that one” and then she disappears into Hecate’s classroom with a smile and – what did that motion she made mean?

“Pippa, let me go” Hecate hisses, but it only makes Pippa give her a frankly dangerous smile.

“ No. I am going to transfer us, as you can hardly stand, let alone walk”

“ I am fully capable of walking – “ she tries to do so and suddenly really feels how exhausted she is, and how the transfer, usually something she does effortlessly all day, has made it worse. She stumbles, and falls against Pippa. She still smells almost frustratingly good, and Hecate pretends it is just exhaustion that makes her practically cuddle into Pippa’s shoulder.

She normally dislikes other people transferring her even more intensely than Pippa does, but now she hardly notices, too distracted by the almost intimate embrace they’re sharing. Then there’s the usual tightness in her chest, and she flinches badly before pulling away. Fortunately, Pippa lets her go immediately and allows her to put some distance between them.

“I apologize for transferring you, but- “Pippa approaches her carefully, and only touches her when she notices Hecate’s breathing has evened out almost completely. And still, her touch is so gentle it is almost not there, fingers pressed very carefully to Hecate’s arm to guide her in the direction of Pippa’s bed.

“ This is all completely- “

“ Shush Hiccup. Just rest, Goddess knows you need it”

“Pippa, I am fine. Honestly “ she is trying for her most strict miss Hardbroom voice, but the effect is ruined when she has to suppress a yawn and doesn’t completely succeed. Pippa just shakes her head, and gently pushes Hecate towards the bathroom.

“ Go change, you can borrow one of my nightgowns”

Hecate would protest more, but she truly does not have the energy to argue with Pippa who is convinced she is right. That would be useless endeavour even if she had had a full six hours of sleep, and several invigorating cups of tea. So she allows Pippa to throw a nightgown in her arm, and puh her into the bathroom. She puts it on in a sort of trance, that kind that comes with not having slept for 30 hours and only sparingly before that, and hardly registers Pippa staring at her.

She falls asleep the moment her head touches Pippa’s pillow, her last thought having something to do with how it is so completely Pippa. When she opens her eyes again, the sun has almost disappeared, and she has vague memories of hands cupping her face and soft lips on her. She slowly pushes herself up – and feels her heart stutter before starting to race.

Pippa is standing in front of the window, clad in a simple but lovely nightgown that leaves her shoulders bare. The last rays of sunlight illuminate her, catching in her hair and turning it truly gold. Her feet are bare, and she seems almost frail this way, without her clogs and witching robes. Her hair is down.

“ Goddess” Hecate breaths, and is unable to move for a long while.

Finally, Pippa turns around and smiles at her. She is in a short nightdress, but Hecate doesn’t tear her eyes away from Pippa’s face. That smile is gorgeous, and she gets lost in Pippa’s eyes before she ever flicks her eyes to Pippa’s bare legs or- she stares at that smile again, returning it without thinking.

Pippa practically runs over to her, still smiling at her , and takes her hand. “ Come on Hiccup” she laughs, pointing at the window. Hecate only glances at the window for long enough that she notices the sun has disappeared completely, before she focuses on Pippa’s gorgeous brown eyes again. She willingly moves over to the window, listening to Pippa’s happy chatter

“ Remember how we could see the stars from your room? It was one of the only perks of that dark, small bedroom you were stuck in” Pippa waves her hand, and the part of the wall in front of them disappears. Hecate stops abruptly.

“What are you doing?”

“ The temperature is perfect” she squeezes Hecate’s hand. “ And I always loved laying down on the grass , and hearing you name the stars”

“ You are perfectly capable of naming them as well” Hecate hopes Pippa can still fill in the words, understands she means why would you want me to be here? And not anything else, something that can hurt her. She is aware that her words are often misinterpreted, and she is terrible at explaining herself.

Fortunately, Pippa appears to understand as she just smiles gently and says “I enjoy listening to you do it, come on” and pulls her through the opening she created. Hecate protests some more, but it is mostly for show and Pippa knows it. She summons a blanket wordlessly, and convinces Hecate to lay down it with only minimal complaining. She immediately lay down herself, although whereas Hecate was careful to remain on the blanket, Pippa scooted down so that most of her legs were on the grass.

Hecate freezes when Pippa lays her head down on her chest, turning so that she could throw her legs over Hecate’s. “ Is this okay?”

Hecate swallows. “Yes”

“ All right. Tell me about the stars, Hiccup?”

She stares down at Pippa, nestled comfortably against her as though there isn’t so much separating them. Hecate’s mistake, their choices, their differences, their-

“Stop thinking so hard, Hecate”

“ All right” Hecate answers, and starts to tell her of the stars again. She is somewhat insecure at first, not used to this like she had been when they had been so close. But she quickly familiarizes herself with pointing out the stars, telling their stories, describing the sacred rituals connected to them. They stay outside nearly the entire night, Pippa cuddled against her. Somewhere during the night, the temperature drops drastically and Hecate summons a blanket for Pippa, pretending to be annoyed when Pippa refuses to believe Hecate doesn’t need the warmth as well. She cajoles Hecate into turning on her side as well, and they cuddle together with the blanket wrapped around them. They move from the stars to other topics, potion ingredients, modern and traditional spell-casting, teaching methods, chanting- until their eyelids are drooping and Pippa tugs them both from the comfortable warmth of the blanket, insisting they cast a spell for good health and luck, weaving flowers into Hecate’s hair and thanking the goddess afterwards.

It is not technically necessary to prepare ones clothing or hair for this spell, but Pippa says she has her reasons, and Hecate doesn’t mind enough to complain about it too much. It gives her an excuse to weave flowers into Pippa’s hair at any rate, and hold her hands clasped beneath her own as the sun rises slowly.

She doesn’t stop smiling at random moments for the entire day.

Hecate had forgotten what a good friend Pippa was- or maybe not forgotten, she could never forget anything about Pippa, but the memory had faded slightly at least.

Pippa brings her tea in the morning, and rolls her eyes good-naturedly when Hecate refuses to taste any of the sugary contraptions as well. She transfers potions for Hecate’s stiff muscles that appear in her breaks, and sends her notes so she doesn’t forget to eat. She gathers flowers from the gardens when Mildred is sleeping, or both Julie and her friends are there. She discusses spell theory, potion ingredients, lesson plans and nearly any other topic other people couldn’t keep up with. She laughs at Hecate’s sarcastic comments , and forgives her the moments she says the wrong thing. She holds her hand often, goes for walks when they’re available, suggests outings for when Mildred is fully healed and they both have less on their plates. She dares and teases Hecate, cajoling her into short broom rides and playful competitions. She convinces Hecate to give Julie a chance, and gives her a new friend that way( although Pippa is still needed to mediate sometimes).

Pippa is such a good friend, and Hecate has never been more hopelessly in love with her.

She despises herself for it, but she cannot force herself to pull away again. Not now she is aware it devastated Pippa, and it likely will do so again. So she just tries very hard to minimize her staring, and reminds herself they’re friends and that feeling like that whenever Pippa holds her hand or kisses her cheek or invites her to a picknick or to stargaze or just to walk around and talk for a very long time, she is doing it because she is being friendly. The weeks that pass are simultaneously lovely and tortuous because of it.

Pippa sends her a message on her Maglet, inviting her for dinner that evening and Hecate feels like a giddy teenager when she replies that she will be there. She feels even more foolish when she actually spends time looking for a less austere dress than usual, and magicking her hair so that it is in a waterfall braid, most of her hair loose apart from a centre braid where she magics pink, tiny flowers after a long hesitation. They are supposed to also celebrate the spring properly together after all, and she knows Pippa will braid flowers into her hair either way.

She walks to the spot they have agreed to meet at the exact right time, smiling and then quickly forgetting to walk when she sees Pippa. Her hair is braided as well, and she has cherry blossoms sticking from it. Her dress reaches her ankles, and has a long slit up her right side. There is a carnation pinned to the corset. Hecate is freed from her stupor when Pippa rushes towards her, and embraces her. When she finally pulls back, she kisses Hecate’s cheek before taking her hand and pulling her towards the table. Hecate admires the flowers, charmed to float around them with gentle light, and the expensive-looking table-ware.

“This is my favourite music” she comments

Pippa smiles “I hope you like it?” she gestures at all of it, the flowers, the tableware, the wine (fey berries; also Hecate’s favourite, a guilty pleasure in fact) and peers almost shyly at Hecate.

“ It is absolutely lovely, Pipsqueak “she breaths, taking Pippa’s hand and almost kissing it before she remembers herself and instead squeezes it once.

“That is good to hear”

They have just sat down when Pippa puts her glass down, and inhales deeply. She fidgets nervously, then drums her fingers against the table. If it were anyone else Hecate would find it annoying, but it just reminds her of a young Pippa who could never sit still for long.

“Hiccup? I -  “ Pippa’s voice breaks slightly, and Hecate eyes her with concern.

“Pipsqueak?”

“I am just nervous”

Hecate takes her hand again, something that has become such a frequent occurrence between them she doesn’t even pause to think. “ Surely you have prepared these spells countless times before, just because you are at Cackle’s, doesn’t mean- “

“That’s not it”

Hecate frowns. There is something going on this evening, she can tell that much, she just doesn’t know what. “Then what is?”

Pippa sighs, and Hecate grabs her other hand as well when she nearly pushes over her glass with it. They’re properly holding hands now, and Hecate gets briefly distracted by how soft Pippa’s hands are, and how she looks ethereal in the light of the enchanted flowers.

“Pippa?” she carefully pushes, as soon as she has cast off the spell that is just Pippa Pentangle’s special brand of beauty.

Pippa smiles nervously at her. “ What is your type of woman?”

Hecate pulls away abruptly, blinking rapidly. “ What?”

“ Just- humour me” Pippa shrugs. “ Answer the question”

Hecate swallows, trying desperately to avoid answering. The only answer she can think of right now is you, because she has never had a type. It has always been Pippa, and Pippa is unique. She takes a sip of the wine to avoid answering, hoping Pippa does not notice her hands are shaking slightly.

“Why?” she finally asks.

Pippa looks completely frustrated.  “ Could you just answer- “

“ Intelligent” Hecate blurts, glancing away from Pippa.  “Brilliant, truly. Stubborn, enough so that she does not give in when I have a certain opinion. Empathic, enough that it baffles me”

Pippa bites her lips, nods. “ And?”

“ I suppose she has to be able to understand me, well enough that she does not get hurt when I misread a situation again, or do not know how to react to her or someone else. Someone who does not ignore my flaws, but acknowledges them and helps me become a better witch. Someone who can make me smile, even in the morning”  she swallows, glancing at Pippa, and says the last words very lowly, almost hoping she doesn’t hear.

“Someone who loves me as well”

Pippa stares at her, and Hecate jumps in her seat when Pippa suddenly takes her hand and brings them to her lips, kisses them. Hecate feels like she so often does, stumbling in the dark with a vague idea but no real clue about what is happening.

“Why- “

“ I want someone who is brilliant as well, Hiccup. I want someone who is down to earth, but still accepts the way I am not always, without simply going along with everything. I want someone who can be enthusiastic with me, but also acknowledges when I am getting lost in a new idea, and it simply will not work out”

“Pipsquea-“

“ I want someone who is empathic, but nurtures that kindness deep inside her. I want someone who is serious, but will be silly for me. I want someone who is passionate about her work, and genuinely cares about mine. I want someone who wants me for more than my pretty face and- “ she smiles at Hecate “ great body. I want someone I’ve known since I was a teenager, and who is frustratingly oblivious, because she has somehow missed I have been in love with her for decades”

There’s tears in Pippa’s eyes. She might not be the only one. “I want you, Hecate Hardbroom, and I have tried nearly everything to make you see that without scaring you off, but you either are completely oblivious, or really do not wan- “

For once in her life, Hecate is the impulsive one. Before Pippa can finish, Hecate has jumped from her seat and stumbled over to Pippa. She has to bend awkwardly, and a part of her is still screaming at her to stop this immediately, lest she scares Pippa away for good, but she shuts it up by gently taking Pippa’s face between her hands, and brushing her lips over Pippa’s.

Finally. She means to pull back, finish their conversation somehow (Hecate has always been better at actions than words) but Pippa stands up and really kisses her. Starts with small kisses against the corner of her lips, working towards it, before playfully tugging on her bottom lip and finally, finally giving in.

And they will have that talk later, and Hecate will be teased terribly by her girlfriend for missing all the signs but right now, Hecate doesn’t want to talk. She wants to make up for one terrible mistake, a dozen smaller ones, and decades of pining and thinking she could never have Pippa. Her insecurities are still there, deep-rooted and twisted around her heart, but Pippa makes her forget about them completely.

Right now, it is easy to just be Hecate Hardbroom, the luckiest witch in the universe, the one that Pippa loves.

  I had orginally planned to also have a focus on Mildred, and how she is (not so) secretly Hecate’s favourite, but I didn’t manage to write that in. I also wanted to add some other things- more of a potential Julie/Hecate friendship ( which Hecate would probably not even admit would be a friendship lol) and Ursula Hallow being the Worst, etc but I am thinking of writing another fic that will have that to make up for it.

[terresdebrume]

Spin Control reread: 2. Arena Talk With Flickerman

Aaand we’re back for chapter two! I’ve slept four hours ish last night (and it’s now half past 9pm) so please forgive any typo or weirdness the spellchecker doesn’t take care of ^^’ @trovia​, @princess-nell​, this is your call before we start :3

Also, the way I did this chapter is a little different from the others. For the prologue and chapter 1, I wrote my comments down as I read through the story but in this case I read the full chapter first and I’m going back on it now, for the simple reason that I was as confused as Finnick about the turn of events.

See, this chapter starts on the evening of Haymitch’s very public overdose, as Finnick gets ‘invited’ to participate in a talk show where Haymitch and his alcoholism are very obviously going to be the center of attention. Finnick is kind of confused as to why he’d be invited except for looking pretty ‘while other people [use] the big words’. It took me until the end of the chapter to realize it but actually, yeah, I’m pretty sure being pretty is exactly what Finnick was called for.

Because the other guests on that talk show?

Mags, an eighty-ish years old woman whose refusal to upgrade her prosthetics is already making it harder for people to understand her.

Chaff, a nearing-fifty alcoholic with a stump and a rather caustic attitude

Terence from District 6 who looks closer to Mag’s age than his actual sixty years and has a morphling addiction problem.

In other words, Caesar Flickerman now has to host a program with three walking reminders that life doesn’t stay pretty forever or for everyone (after all, you can make an argument that Mags is just old, but there’s no way you can pretend like Chaff and Terence’s lack of compliance with Capitol beauty standards aren’t linked to their games, even if most of your population is eager to pretend it is). That’s already three reminders too many for a government trying to normalize and glamourize the Hunger Games until its victims have to say thanks for being sent to the slaughterhouse and punished for it afterward. So what do you do? You throw your local sex-on-legs eye-candy in there so people have something nice to look at while other people discuss the utter mess that is Haymitch’s life. It’s brutal packaging is what it is, down to Finnick’s clothes actually:

After a remake session with Cherry, his stylist, and her team, [Finnick] was trying to get comfortable in his chair despite the excuse for a pair of pants he wore, while the studio lights burned down on him and Flickerman discussed Haymitch Abernathy’s alcoholism, which was still a disease.

Also I have to say I like that this sentence starts with Finnick’s discomfort with an outfit clearly meant for the audience more than for him, and ends with a reminder to himself that Haymitch isn’t completely lost yet. It’s like he glances at his own predicament and trauma then subconsciously steers himself back to the more pressing issue. It’s both a touching sow of solidarity and care toward Haymitch and a heartbreaking dismissal of himself...which, in turn, is an excellent and subtle reminder that it isn’t like Finnick lives in a world that will ever allow him to heal anyway.

Oh, and:

Finnick tried to avoid looking at Terence’s long sleeves, such an uncommon styling choice in a boiling hot television studio, covering up puncture wounds of Morphling needles. Before the show, Finnick had walked in on him shooting himself up in the men’s room. As far as he knew, Terence had never once sobered up since he’d won the 26th Games with a knife and a garrote.

Just in case there was any doubt left that the Capitol (specifically president Snow, but also many people who do not use their brains so they don’t have to come to accurate conclusions) cares more about the Victors’ use as narrative devices than as persons. Not that the people reading SC would have any doubt about that (or at least, they wouldn’t survive very long) but it’s still a good reminder to get. And boy do we get some more.

Chaff took control of the conversation without prompting and did what needed doing on the victors’ end to keep Haymitch alive, swiftly building on the news coverage by weaving a story of loneliness and fame and social responsibility, a term Finnick hadn’t been aware the Capitol actually ever used for anything.

You know, I said in my prologue post that Haymitch’s friends didn’t fully realize what situation he was in and I stand by that, but just because they didn’t realize doesn’t mean they didn’t care. Chaff is putting himself on the line here, subtle as it may be. Also the fic may be in Finnick’s pov, which means one of the more perceptive Victors is our guide here, but that doesn’t take away from the others’ ability to observe and/or toe the line when needed I mean:

“Well yeah, all the signs were there for me to see though and I didn’t, right?” Chaff replied. “All the signs were there, but I didn’t want to see. I didn’t realize how hard it must be for Haymitch, only victor of Twelve and all and always the only mentor for the two tributes, too. He never gets to sleep properly during the Games until they’re both out, did you know that? Probably used the alcohol to stay awake.”

After delivering that last statement with a sorrowful face as if it actually had made any sense, he paused.

Of course Chaff’s statement doesn’t make any sense: it starts with the truth and ends with a Capitol-PR-ready, ‘but of course he was only trying to serve you’ when Haymitch’s entire life at this point is basically the most long-term suicide attempt ever seen. It’s lucky Chaff isn’t the only one who cares and the others pick up the thread before it can start to unravel:

“The public often underestimates how stressful the life of a victor can become,” [Mags] said […]. “It is especially hard for victors if they are supposed to be performing as mentor but failing. It is a great honor to be a mentor, victors are always anxious to succeed. It can be too much, honestly. I have seen this playing out many times. We put ourselves under pressure. One can get overwhelmed.”

“That’s what it was like for me, too,” Terence agreed with his grainy old voice, having aged prematurely. He could as well have been Mags’ age instead of only sixty. “The responsibility was weighing down on me. Not just to the Capitol, who I owed so much, but also to my tributes.”

“We all want to be at our best during the Games,” Chaff concluded.

“What do you think, Finnick?” Flickerman addressed him with a face of rapt interest. He usually adopted that same expression when he told Finnick to get on his knees and suck him off in his dressing room, as if it was a great adventure they were undertaking together.

Okay, sorry to ruin the beautiful moment of solidarity (because even with their limited means, everyone on this side of the talk show is doing what they can to help Haymitch out) with Flickerman being a creepy douche, but considering it’s been established that the topic of Finnick using drugs was supposed to be off-limits (implicitly, but still) I can’t help but wonder if this is Flickerman deciding to toe the line just so he can have Finnick under his thumb again, and that only make him even more gross.

“I am worried about Mr. Abernathy, I am. This is going to be a difficult case,” the doctor told the camera. “As therapists, we see this every day. Yes, we can help this patient to detoxify and send him on his way. Will he have lost his attitude problem? No. He will drink again, and we cannot blame him for that. It will be almost impossible for him to not drink without undergoing extensive therapy first. It would even be so if he was a Capitol citizen, held to our higher standards of restraint. In my professional opinion, Mr. Abernathy is not fit to fulfill his duties by himself and he will not be for a long time to come. You cannot expect this man to act as the sole mentor for his district any longer.”

Okay, first of all, this doctor may have understandable reasons somewhere but he’s still participating in the vile hostage-holding of Haymitch by helping to lay out the bricks for a Capitol-issued miracle narrative, but also the sheer hypocrisy in the bolded part is astounding, even though I knew it was coming. The levels of willful blindness you have to maintain for this sentence to be even remotely acceptable are staggering, even higher than Effie’s disdain of the District Twelve tributes who didn’t know how to eat with forks and knives. It’s even worse to read after having seen the actual canon party where people puke just so they can eat again. And then they have the gall to talk about the Capitol’s higher standards of restraint. Ugh.

“So there is the pressing matter of District Twelve’s participation in this 72nd Hunger Games,” Flickerman continued when the feed was cut off […]. “There are two young tributes at the Training Center now, anxiously waiting for a mentor to prepare them for the Games as we speak. It doesn’t seem like it will be Haymitch. Furthermore, there is the matter of Haymitch handling mentorship in the future. Mags.”

“Well, there is precedence, of course,” Mags said. While she answered promptly, Finnick could see that a guarded expression had crossed her face. She wasn’t clear on what angle on this topic would most likely help the victors and Haymitch. Haymitch, who would have to step in front of a camera once the hospital released him, working with what they delivered right now and telling the public whatever Snow expected. Haymitch, who wouldn’t retire because none of them were allowed to retire. “District Twelve is special even now, it’s the only district with only one mentor. I remember a time when there would always be a district or two that would not be able to provide their own mentors at all. District Twelve was the most recent district without a district victor as mentor, actually, before Haymitch himself won the second Quarter Quell. Four years before, Twelve’s first victor, Swagger – he had died in a terrible accident, I remember…”

Oh my, I remember reading that part and taking so long to process the actual meaning of it with regards to Haymitch’s situation because I was too busy thinking ‘OKAY THIS IS IT FINNICK IS MOVING’. Which is entirely not supposed to be the only point of the scene (and it definitely isn’t as soon as you spare even a second to remove the shipping goggles) but well. It’s be untruthful to pretend like that didn’t happen ^^’

“Oh, of course.” Flickerman shook his head sadly. “He fell and broke his neck, I believe…”

“Yes,” Mags agreed with a nod of gratitude, although the way Finnick had been told the story, Shane “Swagger” March had fallen and broken his neck only insofar that he had kicked away the chair he had been standing on, a noose wrapped around said neck. “Swagger had died, so Lyra Ingram from District Two moved to Twelve as substitute…”

Okay I’d quote the entire exchange about past Victors who mentored for Twelve in a more or less temporary fashion but that would make for waaaay too big a quote-block. That being said, having Finnick’s fact-checking commentary to rely on is both painful and invaluable. It’s a much more knowledgeable pov than Katniss’ because contrary to her, Finnick has insider knowledge. He’s been doing this long enough to have learned the truth, a bullet which Katniss dodged in canon. It also works to make the reader dislike (ha) the Capitol on a much wider level than Katniss’ pov initially does. A lot of the deaths she acknowledges (or speculates about, though with very little risk of error) are abstracts at first. In her first game, Rue is the only kid Katniss really cares about aside from Peeta. Later, we start with Seneca Crane, then the old man from Eleven, and then the deaths get progressively closer to home.

But here with Finnick, they already are hitting home. Not just because every Victor who died knew Mags and/or him directly, but because every instance of this is a reminder that Finnick is only one displeased president away from being the next on the list of suicides and/or suspicious accidents.

“So was there a call for mentors and they volunteered?” It took Finnick a second to recognize his own voice, because he hadn’t known he would open his mouth before he heard himself say the words. This wasn’t really supposed to be his show. Uneasily, he sat up in his chair, the cameras all on him now, while he spoke on, the words still just tumbling out of his mouth. “How did it work? Were they just chosen?” In the corner of his eye, he could see the other victors’ eyes turning towards him briefly when they wondered about his angle.

“Now Finnick, that would be quite cruel,” Flickerman laughed. “Forcing a victor to move to another district and leave their loved ones behind just like that.”

Finnick forced an unconcerned smile on his face, shrugging it off. “Seems to me like it would be a great honor,” he replied, half automatically, following the victors’ cardinal rule – when in doubt, call it an honor. “I’m sure a lot of victors would be greedy for the opportunity.”

Look at the gears already turning in Finnick’s head! Of course he’s good at split second decisions and rapid thinking under pressure. Even Annie, who Katniss describes as having only won her games through luck (which is only true insofar as any Victor only gets there thanks to a number of favorable conditions) wouldn’t have survived the flooding of her arena if she hadn’t been able to make good decisions while swimming, and Finnick made a lot of these good decisions at fourteen, there’s no reason to think he’d have lost the ability now at twenty-one.

It hurt Finnick to see, knowing [Mags] was trying to help him out before he could do something stupid. But he didn’t want to be stopped. He suddenly really didn’t want to be stopped.

Honestly it kind of hurts to picture what could be going through Mags’ head at this moment, too. She’s got a wife and children with her in Four. She managed to build herself a family that, presumably, helped her to keep going. Most likely, several other Victors have found similar solace in their families. It makes sense for them to think Finnick’s family would have the same sort of positive impact on him, but that’s not where Finnick is coming from. And since he never told people about his problems with being in Four (and can’t very well explain it now) it makes sense that they’d be scared shitless for him when the previous victors’ moving could only have been punishments.

(Because of course it is. No one moves out of their district unless specifically instructed to, and Snow simply doesn’t do gifts, let alone gifts that would potentially allow people to form unmonitored inter-districts connections when his whole system relies heavily on keeping each district in the dark as to what its neighbors do.)

Oh course, Finnick plays the audience like a fiddle. Even in canon, if you think about it, his particularly infamous reputation as a heartthrob is already evidence that he knows how to maintain his image, and the later revelation that he ‘gets paid’ in secrets is also indicative of his knowing exactly how important presentation is...so really, it’s not that surprising, even if it takes him a couple minutes to get the audience around to his point of view.

What I am a little more surprised by is this:

Because any victor, given the chance, would have taken the opportunity to run away.

I don’t know if this is me misreading things but it sounds to me like that isn’t quite as absolutely true as Finnick makes it sound. Certainly he would take any opportunity to run away that didn’t get his family killed, but I’m not sure everyone else would, not when there’s already of history of what happens if you fail as a guest mentor—as well as what happens if you succeed too much, as well.

It was only in moments like this anymore that he felt like his body was his own, starkly aware of how it still was such a powerful weapon, how he could still use it to kill if need be even seven years after he’d won.

Very consciously, he drew a breath and released it again like he would before he attacked.

Chaff was throwing him a sharp look, his face guarded now – the expression of a tribute suspecting that his alliance was falling apart.

Oh yeah. You know how Katniss and Finnick took one look at the Capitol streets in Mockingjay and declared the 76th Hunger Games open? Yeah. This is an extension of that, in that the games never really end for anyone (in some ways, they never really start, either, you just go from a nameless pawn in Snow’s machinery to a named, visible and important piece).

It’s also the first hint we get of Finnick, in some respect, regretting his days in the arena, which doesn’t make sense until you realize Finnick (or Victors in general) never had as much control on his own fate as he did during the Games. Back then, it was up to him to figure out how to survive, to be quick enough to kill before he got killed. It’s tragic and horrible to think, but Finnick was empowered in the arena in a way that he isn’t here, because he can’t do anything without having to worry about a heap of very literally life-or-death problems.

Like I said, this is the first hint of that, and I didn’t pick up on it until later but honestly when I did it made so much sense to me, and it’s a pleasure to see the seeds of that particular thread sowed this early in the story.

“Finnick,” Mags said softly, reaching up to take his face into both of her hands. “Finnick, lad, what did you just do?”

Instead of replying, Finnick closed his eyes and turned his head away.

Never again, he thought. Mags, his parents, Keanu and Perri – his older brothers who both looked at him as if he’d gone Capitol – Coral, his kid sister who was of Reaping age now and slowly figuring out what exactly it meant when he was shown with all those movie stars and politicians on the television. All these people who meant so much to him that it hurt to think about. Soon, he would never have to look at any of them ever again. So he had become … he’d become that man, so what… at least his family wouldn’t have to see it.

They’d never learn his secrets, how fucked up he’d become. The things he thought about when he was alone at night, waking up from those dreams he’d never told anybody about.

Oh, Finnick. He’s so ashamed of his own trauma and the way it presents itself, and I mean it’s not like it’s all that surprising because trauma is an ugly beast at the best of time, filled to the brim with things that don’t make sense and illogical reactions all around...having to live with it under scrutiny, surrounded by people who don’t get it (at best) or judge you for it (at worst, though I don’t remember Finnick’s family being confirmed to go one way or the other) and don’t really have the means to help even if they want to, honestly just makes tings worse. I suppose it’s time I brought my ‘blanket burrito’ moments count up to two.

“No,” Mags replied sadly behind him. “I wish you had been allowed to be, though.”

Thanks for breaking my heart, Mags. And then, of course:

President Snow wanted a word.

[guywithtime2kill]

What's in a name? S05E01/02 - S07E06/30 - S09E04 - S04E26 If the jumble of numbers and letters confused you, I am referring to the episodes: Finn the Human, Jake the Dog, Marceline the Vampire Queen, Lady Rainicorn of the Crystal Dimension, Bonnibel Bubblegum, and The Lich.One of the best things about Adventure Time's writing is its ability to fully flesh out its characters without ever being obvious about it. In fact, if you want to appreciate it fully, you'll have to take a step back and think about what you just watched.When you do so, you should ask yourself: How come what happened, happened? Why did the characters act this way? How does it reflect upon who they are? And finally, most importantly, how did this affect them?Adventure Time doesn't hold your hand about it, and I love that about this show. The episodes I will be talking about today are great in particular, because, as their titles suggest, they are all about these characters we love and know incredibly well at this point.The titles aren't just titles, they tell you what each and every episode is about. And in these five, they are about these characters: who they are, why they are, and how they are.I wanted to share this with you all, and give a brief examination of these episodes based upon this idea.Finn the Human - The first episode of season five doesn't get a lot of love from the fandom, not consciously of course, but there's a reason why it's either grouped beside its second part, or the following installment is superior for being more entertaining.I don't disdain people for feeling this way, it isn't an exciting story, not a laugh-fest and horror movie mixture like Jake's episode, but that doesn't mean it's uninteresting.One of the most fascinating things about 'Finn the Human,' is how it's the first instance of the series where we are told, albeit subtly, that Finn has a greater purpose than merely existing. The fact that he exists no matter what, alongside a canine companion named Jake, is damning enough already - emphasized especially by there not being another familiar face, save for Marceline, who existed before the war, despite this being the "modern world" without the Lich ever existing (who is also destined to exist no matter what).Going deeper, we're shown that, no matter what, Finn is a "hero" in much the same way our Finn is a hero: he's kind, he protects his loved ones (his "family," both in Farmworld and in the original reality), and fights evil. And when he's given his sword arm, Finn even remarks that the sword "feels natural, like peeing outside." It's a funny little comment, but what he says rings truth: that, uh, activity he mentioned echoes man's origin from when we were just animals doing our business in nature. We've just become more civilized. Similarly, it feels natural for Finn to wield a sword, despite clearly never using one before, due to his abrupt failure to defeat Big Destiny.Big Destiny who, along with his crew, the Destiny Gang, are aptly named for the theme of "destiny" which permeates Finn's life: in Farmworld, with everything I mentioned, and in the real world, where we now know that everything involving the Lich has happened because of Finn's actions in the previous episodes.Both him and Farmworld Finn are responsible for the destruction of their homes. I am excited for the end of the show, to see if Finn will further the Lich's plans without realizing, like he's done since their very first encounter, and every encounter since.Jake the Dog - Whereas 'Finn the Human' was about who Finn is on a spiritual level, so is 'Jake the Dog,' albeit in a different, more Jakey way.This episode is the quintessential Jake episode, because it's all about the guy just being himself - literally and spiritually.On a literal level, it's Jake the Dog: ultimate bro. He's chilling with new friends who get him, he shares his personal wisdom about relationships and a bit about his childhood (two things which make up Jake's relationship with Finn), all while being his typical, forgetful self always getting caught up in the moment. And even so, he's still a dummy when it comes to solving big, heavy problems that involve potentially ending worlds.On a spiritual level, Jake is mingling with actual gods. I don't want to get into this too deeply, since people will probably think I'm crazy, but I feel like this is a subtle allusion to Jake's fate and role in the universe: to always be a companion for Finn's many incarnations, and his destined fate for his soul to possibly leave this and ascend to Glob-World, where he will he live with them.It may seem like I'm really reaching, but considering how spiritual Jake is, and what many of his stories involve, an episode bold enough to be named after him wouldn't be too far a stretch to assume they incorporated their bigger plans for the show's endgame into it. Especially with the last two episodes doing just that.Marceline the Vampire Queen - Unlike Finn and Jake, Marceline doesn't live a complicated existence. But she lives a complicated life, and that has to do with her identity as "the Vampire Queen" - a moniker she picked for herself, one that, in this miniseries, we realize holds no weight at all, and is therefore a playful joke she put upon herself. It was her own, Marceline-type way of coping with how she was actually turned into a vamp.But with the removal of this identity, Marceline, deep inside, is unsure of what comes next. It was such a big part of her life, and as symbolized in her dream, with the removal of her fangs she falls apart, and from those parts are her vampiric "pieces" which threaten to drown her themselves.In essence, from the beginning of the miniseries, we are shown that she cannot live without being a vampire, because being a vampire isn't Marceline's problem. She hasn't "grown up," coped, with what happened since the incident, and she is unable to move past it.The miniseries that ensues involves Marceline contending with the past while realizing what she has in the present. This experience affects her on a deep, spiritual level, and it's amazing.Lady Rainicorn of the Crystal Dimension - Just like with Marceline's we're going to be pulling into something far more "down to Earth."Lady's story is interesting, as well as her character put beside everyone else. She doesn't have a story borne of great aspirations like Princess Bubblegum, nor spiritual significance like Finn or Jake's or the Lich's. And she doesn't have an intricately woven identity originating from tragedy, like Marceline.But we all live complicated lives, whether we realize it or not; complicated lives which make us into the person we are today. Lady is no exception, and Lady is just like us. She's normal, she doesn't lead an exciting existence like everyone else in this post, in this show even. But that doesn't lessen who she is as an individual, and that's what her episode is all about.It's interesting how Lady looked exactly as she does now, minus the "free spirit flower child crown" she wore. She doesn't even act differently! But Lady, in this time, chooses to associate with a "bad boy", resembling a teenager. Remember how all Rainicorns, as we know, age fast, and they all find their own ways through life in this brief time they have to become adults.What's interesting about Rainicorns is, because they grow up so fast, their adulthood's trajectory seems to be shaped by a single outlook they latch onto:Viola wants to express herself, so she becomes an actress. TV just wants to not think about anything, and his entire being is consumed by projecting unto malleable games and, at one point, a faceless diary. Jake Jr. doesn't know what she wants to do with herself yet. Kim Kil Wan is the only "mature" pup, and I'm positive he sees himself that way and prides himself upon it - for better or worse. And forgotten Charlie finds her own way in the world with no one's help - no one's but the black arts.I'm bringing all this up, because this echoes in Lady's story and who she is. She had a naive worldview with Lee - she wanted a carefree childhood unrestrained from the very orderly society of the Crystal Dimension. But she's still a kind person at heart, which is why she's disturbed by Lee's cartoonish acts of terrorism and ultra-violence. She thought his actions were all charming until she realized how serious he was about hurting people. It's naive, but it was a realistic wakeup call for her.Which is why Lady went above and beyond the call of duty to ensure Lee will not start a war: where she takes the Crystal Mergence, and force herself to leave home and safeguard it in another dimension.Lady did all of this without her parents' help, and perhaps this is what shaped her view of parenting: she didn't force anything upon TV, because like her and the rest of her children, Rainicorns seem to find their way through lives through the experiences they have - for better or worse.And Lady doesn't stifle who she is when she gets to Ooo: she's still kind and caring and enjoys a carefree life, but she carries with her wisdom and responsibility about the duties of growing up.The title of this episode is interesting, because it makes Lady seem like royalty. "Lady Rainicorn," as if the name of her species is her family name, and her "first name" is her royal title: she's a lady of the Crystal Dimension. We're never given clarification as to whether or not "Lady Rainicorn" is her actual name. Bob and Ethel call her sweetheart/sweetie, and Lee calls her baby.It makes me wonder if that's just what she was first called in Ooo, she accepts her new identity and, down the line, it just became her name. We never see Rainicorns in Ooo besides her, and "of the Crystal Dimension" just sounds very regal for what is essentially just a modernized society.Bonnibel Bubblegum - Honestly, because of the breakdown of this episode I made last week, I'm not going to be saying anything new here.But to stick with the naming scheme of these episodes, the title alone of this episode is significant: "Bonnibel Bubblegum." It's her real name, without the princess moniker. On the outset, it's a reminder on the outset that there was a person before she was Princess Bubblegum, and that person wanted a family of people who were "like her": thinking and mobile, they could take care of themselves and she can consider them her mental equal.And inside, 'Bonnibel Bubblegum' is all about informing us on who that exactly is: why she is the way she is, and what that says about her.As we know full-well by this point, Bonnie would do anything and everything to protect her family. But because of this upbringing though, Bonnie was used to taking care of others through Neddy. But, being a thirteen year old kid, Bonnie didn't really learn from her mistakes here: how her reckless creation of life and forcing her own vision upon others, with no consideration for their own feelings, was what lead to her downfall.But Bonnie didn't think about that - her family just betrayed her and became something, she realized, was much easier to control while being just as emotionally gratifying as before. And she loves the Candy People, and she loves Neddy, but Bonnibel never got the family she really wanted until eight centuries later.In Neddy, we see the great but subtle impact Bonnie has on others, when she never even considers it, because she's so concerned with their immediate well-being. Because she left Neddy in a tower, for people make him uncomfortable and scared - and in 'Bonnie and Neddy,' he doesn't even recognize Bonnibel and becomes scared, when he was perfectly happy with her before, when she beside him every day.Bonnie never considered what locking him away would affect their relationship, and I'm wondering if that's another thing that will be brought up once Gumbald makes his move.The Lich - This one will be the shortest, because the Lich isn't a character - and the show knows it. He's a force of nature, and everything that's happened with him in the show has been because of this episode, which shows us the power his sheer threat has upon Finn and Jake, to not trust Bubblegum and move to steal from her and the princesses, and the influence he has upon them all.The Lich is aware of his purpose, and I think he knew exactly what he was doing when concocting his plan here.I hope you all enjoyed this little analysis! These named episodes are great, and similarly there are the double-named episodes, which are all about the relationships these characters share: Bonnie and Neddy, Simon and Marcy, Lady and Peebles, Hunson and Marcy. I'm hoping we get a few more of these before the show ends, like Finn and Jake (series finale?), Finn and Bubblegum, or Bonnie and Marcy.

[jeremystrele]

Best-Selling Author + Feminist Clementine Ford Reflects On Motherhood

Best-Selling Author + Feminist Clementine Ford Reflects On Motherhood

Family

Emma Eldridge

Clementine Ford at home with her young son. Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Photo – Sarah Collins for  The Design Files.

Two years into writing this column, I receive a ton of feedback and suggestions for future subjects; my circle is invested. When I mentioned my next interviewee was Clementine Ford, everyone had an opinion. A prominent feminist with a Fairfax column and two bestselling books to her name, she incites a fervour – you’re a defender or detractor – that’s tangible and at times alarming (check out her Twitter). Holding up a mirror to society can inspire change, but sadly also hate.

Today we quiz Clementine on becoming a mother, raising a son, concern trolling and Boys Will Be Boys – her exploration of power, patriarchy and the bonds of mateship.

The theme of this year’s Perinatal Anxiety & Depression Awareness (PANDA) Week  a few weeks back was ‘I wish I knew.’ Though up to one in five expecting or new mothers and one in 10 fathers experience anxiety or depression, understanding this can happen during pregnancy is rare. Why do you think that is? In light of your own experience, have you any advice for women or men who find themselves suffering – as well as those supporting them?

One of the things that makes it so difficult is this mythical idea of what a pregnancy is supposed to be and feel like. My antenatal anxiety hit me just after the start of the second trimester, which everyone always seems to talk about as some kind of wild high. Your libido is supposed to go through the roof, you’re supposed to stop vomiting every morning (afternoon and night), you’re supposed to bloom, you’re supposed to feel at peace with yourself. All of this is supposed to happen to you, but we only think that because it’s the only thing we ever hear.

I think a lot of that has to do with a general disdain for women’s complaints anyway, one that’s epically magnified when a woman becomes pregnant and then later becomes a mother. Because we’re supposed to be grateful for our good fortune. Don’t we feel lucky to be pregnant or have children? These two states aren’t allowed to co-exist – the one where of course you love your children or desire motherhood, but also feel terrible anxiety or depression about the process involved or some of its reality. And so women bottle a lot of these feelings up because they’re afraid of being judged and, even worse, they’re afraid that their feelings mean there’s something morally wrong with them.

I knew I wanted to have my child and I was excited about motherhood. But I also knew that every day the pregnancy grew inside me and was attached so physically and completely to me was one where I felt trapped and terrified. Thankfully, I sought help almost as soon as I started to feel the familiar symptoms of chronic anxiety. I cannot urge enough how important it is for anyone struggling with perinatal anxiety and/or depression to know that they haven’t failed in any way, and that their feelings or fears don’t mark them as some kind of pariah or bad person. The best and most immediate thing they can do is to talk to a professional about what they’re experiencing. There is light at the end of the tunnel, and there’s no shame in asking as many people as you need to help guide you out of it.

You’ve said, ‘I felt certain my body would only produce a girl,’ and yet you gave birth to a son. I thought of you upon reading Lunch Lady’s recent interview with Dr Arne Rubenstein on raising boys; how possibly the most influential feminist of my generation might be approaching this task. Can you give us an insight into how you’re parenting your son, and the responsibility you feel to ensure he has empathy, respect and understanding in a world where, as a white male, he’s inherently privileged?

When I found out my child was likely to be assigned male at birth, I admit I was pretty surprised. I was also momentarily terrified. How on earth could I possibly figure out how to raise a boy? In less than an hour, the feeling had passed. I welcomed my son into the world and since then he has always felt like the only child that could ever have been meant for me.

I think a large part of me wanting a daughter so fiercely was because I had lost my mother when I was in my twenties. There’ll always be a sense of grief about not being able to replicate that relationship, but it’s something that exists entirely separately to my relationship with my son. I’ve learned so much from the gift I’ve been given of parenting him, not least of which is how important empathy is and the many ways it’s expressed. He is such a soft, kind and gentle little soul and it breaks my heart to know there are so many countless boys like him out there who have these qualities shamed or even beaten out of them by people who fear what it means to colour outside the lines.

At the same time, I accept I have a huge responsibility to raise him in a way that acknowledges his privilege and educates him about it. I have been extremely fastidious about teaching him manners and to respect other people’s space and autonomy. We talk about consent in age-appropriate ways, like how it’s important to ask people if you want to hug them or give them a kiss and that if they say no you have to listen to that. When he tells me to stop tickling him or playing with his hair, I stop immediately and always say, ‘Okay darling, you’ve asked me to stop so that means I have to stop.’ Then, if he’s doing something I don’t like, I say, ‘Can you please stop that? I’ve asked you to stop, and that means you have to stop because I don’t like it.’ He’s still so little and he’s only really been speaking in basic sentences for a few months, but he does get it already. I want these lessons and conversations to be ongoing with him rather than something I decide to teach him when he’s well past the age of having already formed his ideas about the world.

We are also fortunate to have a wonderfully diverse community of friends and neighbours. He’ll grow up knowing people and activists from lots of different communities, so normal for him will hopefully already be the kind of society we’re striving for.

I also have a small son, and have been surprised by how often I’ve been told ‘boys will be boys’ by family, friends and colleagues, even strangers. You’ve recently published a book on this idiom – an exploration of toxic masculinity and how we might change the future for boys today. It’s a confronting but necessary read, but I worry those who’d most benefit from exposure to these ideas are the least likely to be. If you could nominate three takeaways for all of us to consider, what would they be?

Feminists are frequently accused of hating all men and assuming the worst of them, but there’s nothing that denies men’s capacity to control themselves and treat others – especially women – with respect more than the phrase, ‘boys will be boys,’ particularly when it’s used to explain away bad and even criminal sexual behaviour.

Boys can and will be many things, but the most important thing we can do for them as parents is to allow them the space to decide for themselves exactly what that will be.

The biggest killer of Australian men between the ages of 18 and 45 is suicide. If we want to stop men from ending their lives, we need to be active in creating a world where men can be open, emotional and honest about their struggles without fear that it might lead to ridicule or emasculation.

When I revealed to friends that you’d be the next subject of this column, they unanimously requested I ask about your trolls. You’ve always been a target for the worst kind of online hate, but now you’re besieged by a sort of ‘concern trolling’ in relation to your parenting, with some going so far as to report you to DOCS. As parents, we all experience judgment – but this is on another level entirely. How do you manage?

I mean, it’s just honestly so ridiculous that anyone would waste the time of an essential organisation like DOCS by reporting me because I put my son in a pink jumper. I honestly find it very difficult to feel personally attacked by these people because they are so pathetic and fragile. They are completely governed by their own fear and I can ultimately only really feel sorry for them for that.

On the other hand, I feel concerned for their own children because they’re clearly being raised by parents who adhere to the strictest of binary gender stereotypes and filtrate their own bigotry and sexism down to their offspring to ensure the cycle of hatred is continued. But as to whether or not it bothers me or wounds me, I can honestly say it doesn’t. It has been happening for so long that it’s really just become white noise. I should beam it into my son’s bedroom at night to try and get him to go to sleep!

Can you give us a glimpse into how your days start and end with your son?

I’m a freelancer, so I have a lot of changeable days. However, they always start and end the same way. We’ll wake up at around seven (he still ends up in our bed at some point during the night), have a little cuddle and then get up for the day. I put on the coffee and try and tempt him to eat some breakfast, which might be nibbled on before ending up on the floor. On the days he doesn’t have family day care, we’ll potter around at home for a few hours before going for a drive or walking to the park. He still has one nap a day, which usually happens between 1 and 3ish. In the early evenings, we might go for a swim or to the local shopping centre to just be in the company of other people, and then we’ll head home for dinner, bath and bedtime.

The days always feel pretty full to me, but when you write it down like that they seem quite bare! I guess that’s because I didn’t write down all the times I need to wash clothes or clean the kitchen or pick up toys or go outside and take five deep breaths. I love him more than life itself, but let’s just say I appreciate the family daycare.

Moving across time, what kind of adult might you like him to grow into? How would you like him to remember you to his own family, and what do you hope for in terms of societal change for his generation?

I would love for him to retain the softness and kindness that I see so abundantly in him now. I want him to be curious, particularly about the lives of other people. I hope that it’s important to him to always seek perspectives outside his own, and to understand that just because something feels unknown to him that it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist in its own right.

I hope very much that we remain close as he grows into an adult. I want him to remember me as someone who loved him fiercely but also gave him the space he needed to figure out who he was. Who listened when he spoke and responded in a way that assured him his thoughts mattered. I don’t want to be the most important woman in his life, but I would like to be remembered as a woman who was important to him.

For his generation, I want more freedom and more peace. I want them to be able to express themselves in ways that even my generation found it difficult to do. To understand gender as something far less rigid and binary than we were taught, and to take delight in exploring it. I want them to love and respect each other and to feel hopeful for change. I want them to drive change and to take us somewhere extraordinary. Ideally, I guess what we should all want as parents is to one day look at our kids and feel like they’ve left us behind.

 Family Favourites

Activity or outing

We’re still at the age where everything is a bit tricky to do with any kind of success, because he’s still such a toddler. But we love going swimming at our local community pool. He is just totally natural in the water, and watching the delight on his face is something special. 

Dinner destination

Again, we’re lucky if we manage to have a calm dinner at home let alone out! So I’ll say our favourite dinner destination is a BBQ in our backyard during the summer. Our son waters the plants, we can have some wine, listen to music and everything feels just right.

Book, film, or show

Unfortunately, he’s obsessed with these weird YouTube videos at the moment. I keep trying to block all the channels but they’re prolific.

Much more enjoyable is the book I read him every night before bed – an adaptation of Tim Minchin’s When I Grow Up. We sing it together and then he snuggles into sleep.

Place to travel

When he was 11-months-old, we took him to Vietnam. It was amazing. It’s an incredible place to travel to anyway, but so hospitable to children.

White Australia has such a boring, asinine attitude towards children being in public places and learning about the world around them. It’s nice to be somewhere where kids are actually considered people.