#bell hooks Institute

[alexlipscomb]

art and the aids epidemic magazine cover, 2023, digital

[itisthefunpolice]

Men in Feminist Clothing

It was brought to my attention that some men are now not only claiming they are feminists but radical feminists specifically.

For those who may not be aware, many men claim to be "feminists" but because feminism is a women's liberation movement for women by women a male cannot be a feminist by definition, even if he is sympathetic towards, believes in, and promotes feminist politics.

In reality, most of these men are not only using the term "feminist" improperly, they're actively using it against women, often actual feminists. These men will gain the trust and loyalty of women and then use that trust and loyalty against them. Even men who's work is respected in radical feminist spaces, like Lundy Bancroft, author of Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men, are regularly outed as charlatans, predators, and abusers.

I will be using two videos to illustrate how these men often operate and red flags you should look out for when dealing with men who claim to support feminism:

Video #1:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJCmHBxt/

Video #2:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJCmfXhr/

From here on out I will assume you have watched both videos and be referring to them as Video #1 and Video #2.

Video #1 is specifically about a male issue, circumcision. There is nothing wrong with men talking about men's issues. However, this man then goes on to compare this men's issue to a women's issue. Men trying to equate men's and women's sex based issues is a red flag.

In Video #2 he chastises women for both centering themselves and their own issues and for speaking about a men's issue they could never experience, circumcision, yet in Video #1 he felt comfortable talking about a women's issue he could never experience, female genital mutilation, and comparing the two experiences. If these experiences are indeed equivalent then women should be able to speak about circumcision and if they are not equivalent then he shouldn't be able to speak about female genital mutilation with authority. Hypocrisy that favors male voices over female voices is a red flag.

In Video #2 you'll also notice he deflects from any critique of a man talking about feminism by saying "patriarchy effects everyone". This is a clever use of language to make the viewer believe women and men are equally effected by patriarchy and therefore he is allowed to be an authority on the subject, but this is not true. Patriarchy is specifically the oppression of women by men so, while it does effect both sexes, it does so by giving men institutional and structural power over women, not by oppressing men. One could also say "homophobia effects everyone" but this wouldn't suddenly mean heterosexuals are oppressed and can be an authority on gay liberation. Anyone saying men are effected by patriarchy the same way women are is a red flag.

He then goes on to accurately describe radical feminism, but then says intersectional feminism was "developed an expanded largely by people of color". This makes it seems as if men were involved because he says "people" instead of "women" and as if we don't know who those women were. He never mentions these feminists by name, like Audre Lorde or Kimberlé Crenshaw, only citing Bell Hooks at the very end of the video. When a man talks about feminism but either never mentions the women who's ideas he's speaking about or attributes those ideas to men it is a red flag.

He then confuses intersectional politics, in general, with intersectional feminism, specifically. Intersectionality is looking at how different types of oppression interact with one another. Intersectional feminism is looking at how different types of oppression, specifically race, interact with misogyny, which is where the term misogynoir comes from. It is intersectional feminism because it looks at female oppression in combination with other types of oppression. I don't know any intersectional feminists who would agree with his sentiment that a white billionaire woman is not oppressed by a poor black man because intersectional feminism is based on class analysis, which means they recognize how she oppresses him based on her race and financial class and how he oppresses her based on his sex. Any man saying men don't oppress women, no matter how many qualifiers they put in front of those categories, is a red flag.

He then proceeds by saying he identified as a radical feminist. This is a major red flag. Any man who is familiar with radical feminism, and he's made it clear that he at least knows what it is, should know he is by definition not a feminist. That means he's either choosing to ignore that and is therefore ignoring women's boundaries or doesn't actually know anything about feminism, both of which mean he shouldn't be speaking on the topic.

He then says he felt "dehumanized, dismissed, excluded, and scapegoated" in radical feminist spaces. I would like to remind you, feminist spaces are for women, are made by women, and center women. Most of them are female exclusive. Male feelings are not the priority, female liberation is. The fact that this man thinks males being uncomfortable in radical feminist spaces is an issue with the movement shows that he feels entitled to our time, energy, and space, which is a red flag. For reference, imagine an oil executive inviting himself for a rally against climate change and then complaining that he felt "scapegoated" because the attendees talked about the harms fossil fuels have done to the environment.

It's very telling that he then goes on to praise intersectional "feminism" (again, unclear if he actually means intersectional feminism or some other branch of the intersectional movement) for loving men. This shows his priority is men, which does not align with the priority of feminism, which is women. That is a feature, not a flaw. Any man who thinks feminism's priority should be men is a red flag.

He also says centering men prevents them from "self-flagellation and male guilt". It is not feminists job to reform men, men are accountable for how they respond to feminism and patriarchy as a whole. If men's response to seeing women discuss how men oppress us is to feel guilty that is not our fault and comforting them is not our responsibility. Men have to choose to reform themselves, demanding women hold their hand through this process is sexist. If you're familiar with the concept of "white guilt" you can understand why this is such an insulting request. Men complaining about how feminism makes them feel bad is a red flag.

It's also interesting how he acknowledges that intersectional feminism is lead by "people of color", again, ignoring that these people are women specifically, and therefore it is a more challenging space for white women than radical feminism. However, you'll note that he is a white man so these spaces should be even more challenging for him both due to his race and sex. This perhaps is a subtle way to pit women against each other or claim radical feminism is sexist by default, but it's unclear. In any case, men trying to pit women against each other is a red flag.

What is very obvious though is that he clearly heavily favors the spaces that acknowledge men and men's issues. You'll note these spaces he's describing sound more like humanist activist spaces than feminist activist spaces. Anyone who tells women their activism should focus on everyone is really telling women that female focused activism is not important enough to have its own movement and falls back on the old sexist tactic of unpaid female labor, which is a red flag. This is doubly true for the black women who build intersectional feminist spaces who are often told to take a back seat in both black liberation movements, which are male focused, and western feminist movements, which are white focused.

Radical feminism is described now as not being "actually liberatory or healing for men". Men created patriarchy and uphold it, they are not oppressed by it. If they feel they need liberation from patriarchy what they are seeking is liberation from other men, not from women. A man blaming women for things men do is a red flag.

If it has not become clear for you at this point, this man is essentially a Men's Rights Activist. This would not be an issue if he specifically focused on male specific issues and organizing men to address them. Instead he is using men's issues as a way to disrupt feminist activism, distract from women's issues, and minimize female oppression. This is why MRAs are widely regarded as anti-feminists. He may claim patriarchy hurts him, but he still uses it for his benefit. These are all red flags.

Then there is the age old "feminism needs to appeal to men". What this is really saying is "women need men". For reference, I can't think of a single case where an oppressed class did not have to fight for their rights and were instead just given them because they were nice to and cooperative with their oppressors. Anyone insisting women need men, including needing men to give them their rights, is a red flag.

This example was rather easy to break apart due to him being very up front about his desire to prioritize men, but not all "feminist" men are so blatant in their disrespect of feminism and women in general nor is this list comprehensive of all potential red flags.

Be vigilant, be smart, be safe.

[akajustmerry]

Merry you brought up Bridgerton so I have no choice but to start rambling about it. One of my fav (bc it was so stupid) part of Bridgerton S1 is the way they talked about it. I love how the cast and crew just sat there and spewed nonsense about the “female gaze” and blah blah blah, completely ignoring the racial ramifications of it all.

But what’s even funnier is that that whole train of thought, the “female gaze”, is literally something that Lashana Lynch talked about during the press/promo for Still Starcrossed about Rosaline watching Benvelio/checking him out in all of his shirtlessness.

And it’s like bro, having a Black Woman ogle a shirtless White man that she kinda hates, kinda loves is VERY different then having a white woman ogle a Black man who she eventually [redacted]. The racial ramifications are SOOO different. Please read some bell hooks or something, I don’t know.

anyways love you. Hope you are having a good day!

[SCREAMS INTO PILLOW] I could talk for HOURS about this. firstly, i hate how discussions of the female gaze have devolved from what it actually is (institutional and systemic misogyny in the film industry) to the term being reduced to "things women like" which is......not what it means lol! and i absolutely hate how much bridgerton, a show primarily written by a white man, contributed to this. SECONDLY, as you've said, acting like the white gaze isn't a thing as much as the male gaze has lead to some truly god awful content where racism is treated like feminism. AND THIRDLY, look i am not going to sit here and act like SSC was without flaws, but the racial dynamics at least when it came to benvolio and rosaline were somehow handled so much better than in bridgerton........ a show made 7 years later!! rosaline has so much more agency than any of the women in bridgerton. and yeah ssc didn't have sex scenes but the chemistry between all the actors is so much better. and the stakes for the characters actually make sense in ssc too. not to mention, ssc was actually developed for screen and scripted by women (though ssc to my knowledge was still a predominantly white crew), unlike bridgerton!! like it kills me how rosvolio was the blueprint bridgerton was built on and all it does is piss on their memory. that one gifset paralleling season 2 of bridgerton with ssc......🤬

[draculasfavoritewife]

Sleepless

Summary: Even the most intimate couples had to have a first late-night conversation.

Pairing: Emma Frost x Scott Summers

Warnings: Scott Summers is synonymous with angst. Innuendos and suggestive humor. Strained relationships, a bit of the absolute fluffiness that is two sad people commiserating.

Here it is, the last of my Emma/Scott fics (for now) that has been languishing in my drafts! There are few things I love writing more than first meetings and impressions, and Scott's PoV, as I've mentioned before, is personally delicious. Plus, as an insomniac myself, insomnia-coded characters always hold a special little spot in my heart 🖤

“Scott. A word?” 

Scott Summers sighs as the Professor beckons him into his office. “Of course. Do you need something from me?” 

The older man studies him from behind tented fingers, expression unreadable as always. “I merely wanted to remind you that Ms. Frost will be arriving soon.” 

“I hadn’t forgotten.” New faculty didn’t come to the Xavier Institute often, did the Professor really think such a detail had slipped his mind? 

“My choice to hire her may be…controversial. And the others, they look to you as an example. I hope you will keep an open mind and welcome her with open arms, so that the transition goes a little smoother.” 

Scott nods briskly. He’s nothing if not professional. “Anything else?” 

“That is all. Thank you, Scott. I always rest easier, knowing I have you to depend upon.” 

He leaves the Professor, only to find Jean waiting for him barely outside the door. “Hey,” she greets him softly. “What did the Professor want?” 

“Nothing. We were just talking about Ms. Frost’s arrival this afternoon.” Scott lengthens his stride, his mind already working through his meticulously arranged schedule for the rest of the day. 

She’s not convinced. “You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.” 

“I do know. Everything’s fine, Jean. I just have a busy day ahead of me.” 

Her eyes narrow. “I’m worried about you! You don’t have to be so brusque.” 

And you don’t have to mother me all the time! I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. He tries to stuff down the ungrateful thought as soon as it takes shape, but it’s too late.

Her scowl tells him better than words that she heard it, loud and clear. 

“Jean, wait!” he calls after her retreating back, but she’s vanished into a nearby doorway already. He knows from many past experiences that it’s better if he lets her cool off for now. Talking to her and trying to iron things out right away will do more harm than good. 

Cursing under his breath — too softly for any passers-by to pick up — he continues on his way. 

The day is off to a great start already. 

He knows Ms. Frost has arrived when he sees the crowd of students and fellow instructors gathered around the front windows. And he understands why they’re all staring when he sees her car parked in the driveway, long and sleek and pale and probably some European brand half of them have never heard of. 

And then Ms. Frost herself steps out of the car and struts up the front steps to ring the bell, and the excited whispers immediately die off. She looks like she stepped off the cover of a magazine, and one that is likely “not suited for younger readers”. 

He seems to be the only one with ears all of a sudden, and takes it upon himself to answer the door. That’s when he at last sees her face, and for a moment, even stoic Scott Summers is off his game. Slyly tilted eyebrows, heavily lashed eyes that couldn’t possibly be any color but a frosty blue — he can tell even through his tinted glasses — and that smile, that lioness smile rimmed with curvy silver-painted lips. 

Scott knows this woman. Not in the awkward I-was-drunk-we-hooked-up-once kind of way, that’s never been his style.

No, they’ve crossed metaphorical swords on the battlefield many times before. 

The last time he saw that smile, she was trying to turn his mind into so much scrambled egg. 

Really, Professor? You hired the White Queen and didn’t think I needed ANY warning? 

She, for her part, is utterly cool and collected, and he gets the feeling she saw him through the window long before he saw her. Momentary lapse of focus gone, he sizes her up like the threat he knows she is.

By personal experience, he knows that underestimating Emma Frost is a deadly gamble. 

Her hair -- long, straight, and so blond it hovers near white -- runs down her back, disappearing into the fluff of her extravagant white fur coat. Aside from the coat, she leaves nothing to the imagination. Snug white pants are tucked into over-the-knee boots with five- or six-inch stiletto heels. He’s not sure how she didn’t die on the brief walk to the door. 

And she’s wearing a top that can barely even be classified as such. 

How do her clothes even stay on? 

Double-sided tape is a woman’s best friend, Darling. But they don’t have to stay on…. 

He’ll have to be much more careful.

“Ms. Frost. Welcome to the Xavier Institute. Won’t you come in?” 

The fur coat chooses that particular moment to slip, baring slender shoulders and quite a few inches of what’s between them and the gravity-defying contraption that only just prevents indecent exposure. 

“Why thank you, Mr. Summers. I’m ever so pleased be here. I have a feeling you and I, at least, should get along just fine.” 

She stalks past him, and he watches her go, the crowd of intimidated students and hostile instructors parting like the Red Sea for Moses. 

What has the Professor gotten us into? 

He’s left alone in his room tonight. Jean holds grudges, and he hasn’t seen her again aside from dinner, when neither of them felt like talking to the other. Insomnia is his partner in bed instead — he can honestly say that relationship has been lifelong — so he finally gives up trying at one in the morning and heads down to the Danger Room, in the hopes he can either work himself to exhaustion or at least be productive with his time, instead of letting his anxiety run wild in the dark.

The latter seems far more probable. 

It’s not until he’s done, changed into sweatpants and left the locker room, still drying his hair with a towel, that he realizes he had an audience. 

“Bravo, Mr. Summers, that was quite the show you put on.” The White Queen is leaning against a console in the control booth, a glass of red wine in hand and her goddess figure quite prominent in a lacy white slip. 

He shouldn’t be surprised that even her nightwear is as revealing as possible. 

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he says curtly, pulling a jacket on to cover up his bare torso. Just because she’s so comfortable flaunting everything doesn’t mean he has to join her. 

“You’ve always had a certain…flair…for battle, and I should know.” She smirks and hands him a second wine glass. “Here. When I got up and sensed I wasn’t the only one wandering these halls at this ungodly hour, I brought a spare.” 

Normally, he would wonder what she’s done to it, but this is already a strange situation, so he just takes it from her with a nod of thanks. 

“You know, from that very first time I got inside your head, I pegged you as the insomniac type.” Her eyes flash over the rim of her glass, sharp with satisfaction. “Looks like I haven’t lost my touch when it comes to woman's intuition.” 

He can’t tell if she meant that comment as a double entendre or not. He’s certainly not rising to take the bait if she did. “I have a lot on my mind.” Taking a sip of his drink, he glances back at her. “And you?” 

“Oh this isn’t a usual occurrence for me at all, Scott. Most nights I sleep like the dead and only rise in time for lunch.” She sniffs. “I have a very sensitive constitution. The first night in a new bed? I never sleep.” 

Scott throws her another, this time incredulous, glance. 

“I do have a sensitive constitution! I’m a purebred Boston Terrier Bitch, Darling.” 

He snorts at her choice of words, and it could almost be called a chuckle. 

Frost fake-gasps. “Ladies and Gentlemen, believe it or not, Scott Summers CAN laugh.” She draws closer to him, her face upturned towards his, and he realizes that her lips are a natural color without her lipstick, after all. 

He imagines they must be pale pink. 

“What’s my prize for making you laugh?” she purrs. 

“What would you like?” he asks without thinking, and then mentally kicks himself for it. This is no ordinary woman he’s talking to, after all.

He has a suspicion there’s a reason she dresses like a dominatrix. 

Wicked delight plays across her face. “Oh, there are so many things I would like from you, Scott. But let’s start off with a professional tone, shall we?” Her free hand comes up between them, plays with the zipper pull on his jacket. “So show me around. Where do you go when you DON’T want to focus on everything that’s going wrong in your life?” 

He’s not really sure how to answer that one, but he ends up taking her outside, and somehow they end up standing on a footbridge in the garden, and the night is cool and the moon is beautiful tonight, and he HAS put all his problems out of his mind for the time being. 

“Do you like New York?” he asks her, leaning back against the railing. 

She shrugs. “Well enough. I do miss Boston, though.” 

He didn’t think he’d ever hear such an admission leave her lips. “Why move, then?” 

“Just because you love a place doesn’t mean you should stay.” Emma's face suddenly looks gentler, almost younger. “There’s far too much history knotted up in the places we grew up, I think.” Her star-filled eyes turn to him. “And I think you agree. You hardly ever go back to Alaska, much as you miss the wind and water and cold.” 

She has a point. He can’t quite unravel this sensation rising in his chest. 

“I wasn’t digging around in your head,” she is quick to reassure him. “The sky tonight is making your old longings positively radiate from you, like too much Dior.” 

He sighs. Sometimes he fantasizes about going back, about starting over and running away from his problems with Jean, and everyone’s expectations and standards and pressures. Leave it to the new arrival to be the only one who picks up on his struggles, well as everyone else thinks they know him. 

Sometimes he just feels so damn alone. 

“You know,” she murmurs, swirling the last of her wine around in the glass. “You and I are so alike, Scott. No one else could ever truly appreciate what goes on beneath the surface.” 

He stares at her, disbelieving. We couldn’t be more different if we tried…. 

“We handle it in different ways.” The wind ruffles through her silky hair. “I coped with the expectations, the lack of validation, and the depressing notion that I would never be good enough for anyone by stripping — excuse the wording — myself of everything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. I have no inhibitions, I buck social norms, and I take pleasure in subverting people’s image of me, because I know I can never fulfill their standards.”

She eyes him up and down. “You cope in the opposite way, covering up the goods, physically and emotionally, so you can pretend to be their perfect white knight. But if the cards had folded differently —” she finishes her drink, “— we could be standing here in each other’s shoes, instead.” 

“I never did get the hang of walking in heels,” he deadpans, and this time it’s her turn to laugh. Although he doesn’t say so, she’s right.

And his chest tightens strangely, at the realization that he’s finally met someone that understands what he’s going through. 

It takes his thoughts a bit to return to earth, but when they do, he notices that she’s definitely not dressed to be standing out here. He takes his jacket off and holds it out for her to take, and he’s not completely sure why, but he doesn’t feel quite so exposed without a shirt around her anymore. 

Having someone dissect your soul can do wonders for your self-consciousness. 

She smirks as she takes the offered garment and drapes it around her shoulders. “The cold and I are old friends,” she muses, tone slightly melancholy. “But I’ve always had a soft spot for old-fashioned chivalry.” 

He can feel her eyes roaming over his now bare torso. “And I must say, even that navy spandex didn’t do you justice. You’re a fine-looking man, Scott Summers.” 

What does one say to that? 

He settles on nothing, for the moment. But they stay there on that bridge for a while, mostly enfolded in a silence that is surprisingly comfortable. 

Finally, he nods back towards the mansion. “We should turn in, Ms. Frost.” 

“Emma, Darling. You’ve earned it.”

They fall into step together, and as they are about to enter the quiet household once more, she smiles up at him. “I’ll see you at lunch then, Love.” 

Scott can’t help smiling back. “No, you’ll be seeing me bright and early for breakfast, Emma. Most of us are up by seven around here. Personally, I prefer six.” 

“Ugh. How inhumane.” She tosses her hair and walks away from him, still wearing his jacket. “Chances are I’ll still be dead. Come and drag me out of bed if you must, Darling, but for heaven’s sake do it with your own hands and don’t send that philistine Logan, or I’ll kill you both.” 

He watches her disappear down the shadowed corridor, and for some reason, he doesn’t call after her for the jacket. 

Sleep comes easily for him after that. 

[it-body]

today is day 1 of the 7 day strike in solidarity with occupied, martyred and risen palestinians. today i keep all of them in my heart, i think of their fear & pain & confusion, i think of their reverence & strength, i think of their voices and i wish for their relief and support. use tribunals and law proceedings and anything published by institutional strongholds as informational for minutae, but listen to the voices whose mouths and feet are moving on the ground, for the west is cursed with the most stupid abstraction. listen to yourself and find love and compassion in your heart and forgo the guilt that metastasizes & silences you. forgo it for the love that will open your heart in solidarity for palestinians, for the sudanese, for your first nations, your indigenous populations, for the kids in slums that are continually brutalized under a lingering colonial gaze.

bell hooks reminds us of the strength inherent to a critical gaze in the “oppositional gaze.” hooks draws from fanon & i speak in their tones to harriet jacobs and anne frank and to all subjugated colored peoples who’ve considered engineering their own permanent solitude with my critical gaze. i open up love with my gaze, and i love you and i love your time here. with our critical gazes, we critically remember the fallen and why they gained their wings. we understand their mundanity, their physical death, but we find solace in tending to their legacy and truth.

during this strike, seek love for Palestinians. Seek love for indigenous peoples. seek love in solidarity.

[herrlindemann]

Metal Hammer - February 2010

The spectacle continues: Rammstein pull a fire trail through Germany with their Liebe ist für alle da tour. After Metal Hammer dedicated itself to three concerts in the previous edition, the journey now continues to Frankfurt, Stuttgart, Hamburg and to the home game in Berlin. Did only the stage burn on site or did the audience as well?

11.12. Frankfurt, festival hall

It's December 11th, 2009. The whole Rhein-Main area is infected by the Rammstein virus! The whole Rhine-Main area? No! But in order to make at least a small part of this diagnosis, you don't need a doctorate these days. Hundreds of party-mad Rammstein fans transform the extensive area in front of the magnificent Frankfurt Festhalle into their very own Christmas market. Here - punctually until the first chime - the merchandising bus is on the lookout for a gift for loved ones, people ask for admission to the Holy of Holies at the gates of (heaven) or at one of the countless stands the cold season with delicious mulled wine neutralized. The only difference to Nuremberg, the capital of Christkind: Here, instead of 'Last Christmas' or 'Jingle Bells', it's mainly these that get through.

Big hit from the Berlin scene institution from the Munich of the proud ticket holders. ‘Silent Night’ is definitely different.

In the circus ring-like interior of the location, the first thing to say is: wait for the Christ Child. Instead of shortening the whole thing with a speech by the Federal Chancellor, the industrial rockers from Combichrist try to heat things up today - which, however, meets with a similar amount of enthusiasm from large parts of the audience. Whether that's why the dedicated Norwegians chose their catchy tune 'WTF Is Wrong With You People?' as the official end of their tryst is anyone's guess.

After that, it's finally time for tonight's main attraction. With their spectacular debut, they immediately gave the term 'Freemasonry' a new definition. However, even such rock light figures as Rammstein - as in most tour stations before - need a two-part start-up phase ('Rammlied'/B******') at the beginning until the first decent cracker of the evening. Such explosive titles can be taken literally, because when the attack is blown with 'Waidmanns Heil', not only the pyro effect premiere heats the mood barometer up to the boiling point. Since the set list of the six capitals is identical to the previous gigs of the tour, the band's Die Hard fans are particularly excited about the 'polarizing' anthem 'Ich tu Dir weh' and the answer to the question 'How do Rammstein avoid the indexing this time? '. And how do the Neue Deutsche Härte initiators solve this problem? Actually as always: Namely with their very special sense of humour. Instead of singing about urinary canals, Till prefers to sing about other messes in the form of Frankfurter sausages, of which he immediately throws the daily turnover of a barbecue snack to the crowd for visual support.

Incidentally, such homage to Hessian cuisine is also lyrically spoiled at the foam cannon-laden closing party in the form of 'Pussy', since this time the charismatic frontman does not receive a visit from his Thuringian, but rather from an object whose current consistency resembles the hall cleaning staff will certainly be a lot of fun. Speaking of sensual pleasures: it should be clear that the audience, whispering close together in front of the stage, loudly want a second helping of the musical festive roast after this audiovisual firework. The hosts — who are now almost uniformly dressed in a 'topless look' — don't splash out either and let it rip with their colorfully mixed three-course dessert ('Sonne’/‘Haifisch’/‘Ich ‘will). that even the Christkind is hooked on the Rammstein stage spectacle. Or was it just Till Lindemann in the guise of an ‘Engel’? Doesn't matter! After such a mess, the visibly satisfied Frankfurt audience should have nothing to wish for anyway.

12.12. Stuttgart, Schleyer Hall

Saturday evening: People of all ages stream from everywhere — many in smart endured thread, others in metal gear. 'Holiday On Ice' takes place in the Porsche Arena right next to the Schleyer Hall, opposite on the Wasen the world Christmas circus stops - and then 12,000 people also want to see Rammstein. The search for a parking space is only unproblematic for those who know the area. It's cold outside, freezing cold even, so the anticipation of a warming pyro inferno increases even more. Although admission is from 7 p.m., there is still a very long queue just before 8 a.m. Everyone is shivering, teeth are chattering, deposit collectors are loading plastic bags and shopping carts full, the atmosphere is relaxed and peaceful. Wearers of glasses are also safe, because VfB-Wüterich Jens Lehmann is already in Mainz to prepare for the game against FSV.

Due to the barcode check of the tickets and precise scanning controls, progress towards the hall entrance is very slow. What seems annoying when queuing in the freezing cold turns out to be a stroke of luck. At least for those who no longer have to endure the entire Combichrist performance. The first few rows still seem to like it — it's all a matter of taste.

It gets dark at 9 p.m. sharp and Rammstein break through the stage decorations to greet the audience with 'Rammlied'. During ‘Waidmanns Heil’ — a real hit live — the first pyros take to the air. The interlude in ‘Feuer Frei!’ is also cool, when singer Till and guitarists Richard Z. Kruspe and Paul H. Landers form a triangle and spit fire with flamethrowers. ‘Wiener blut’ is disturbing. The stage is decked out with baby dolls on meat hooks. The babies burst, the lights go out and the relaxing sounds of ‘Frühling in Paris' ring out. So far it's an extremely atmospheric show, which unfortunately suffers a bit from the heavy, undifferentiated sound. This not inconsiderable shortcoming is eliminated from ‘Asche zu Asche’. Yes, that's right, 'Ich tu dir weh finally flies out of the set list in Stuttgart and is replaced by 'Asche zu Asche'. Good thing, because this song is better anyway.

From now on the guitars finally riff powerfully and vehemently with an overwhelming sharpness. Keyboarder Christian ‘Flake’ Lorenz climbs into a container, onto which Till fires volleys from a pedestal several meters above the ground until said container explodes. Seconds later Flake gets up in a glittery silver costume and takes his place on a treadmill in front of his keyboard. Cool. 'Benzin', with a low-squatting and wildly banging Till, is another high point until the band march out of the retractable floor onto the boards in lockstep on 'Links 2 3 4'. In contrast to earlier days, Rammstein exude enormous joy in playing. The consistently agile musicians communicate on stage and, despite the tight, rigid choreography, present themselves in a relaxed and sympathetic manner. No sign of static. And that, although it certainly requires enormous concentration in order not to be charred by the pyros fired from all possible corners of the stage, which is multifacetedly illuminated.

During ‘Du hast’, the audience, who is becoming more and more euphoric every minute due to the increasingly dramatic show, ducks their heads to avoid a ‘boomerang arrow’ shot by Till. The well-known encores with Flake's rubber dinghy ride during 'Haifisch' and the brilliant finale 'Engel' end a rousing concert by what is probably the most entertaining and entertaining live band on the entire music scene at the moment. Richard Kruspe jumps into the ditch to shake hands. Rammstein are not as aloof and distant as they often seem. When Till finally says goodbye to the exhausted crowd with his first announcement, 'Thank you for the wonderful evening, Stuttgart', you don't have to be a mentalist to read the audience's thoughts: 'You're welcome. All ours.'

14.12. Hamburg Color Line Arena

The Hanseatic city of Hamburg has always been a good place for the heroes of German rock music. Like every concert on this tour, the Color Line Arena right next to the HSV stadium is of course completely sold out. A good 12,000 Rammstein fans - that looks like something. To use the time until the Rammstein gala sensibly, there are two options tonight: Either you watch Combichrist, or you refresh yourself with delicious local beer specialties. In Hamburg they are called Holstein. The bulk of the 12,000 rodent collectors agree to do both, although the interior space is still noticeably thinned out.

Quite different then at 9 p.m. sharp. When the protagonists 'sweat' their way through the papier-mâché wall and are illuminated from behind with an estimated 6,000 watts, the cheering in Hamburg knows no bounds - just like in every city. Rammstein know how to present themselves and are successful every time. Compared to previous tours, there is a little less fire and pyrotechnics at the start, but that's whining at a high level, after all there are few or no bands that can even remotely match Rammstein in terms of show.

And the sextet also has great songs. As with some concerts on the current tour, the sound had to be adjusted a little during the set in Hamburg, because Till's singing came across as a bit undifferentiated. However, those responsible for the Rammstein live sound have this under control very quickly. In this way, no questions remain unanswered, because the answer is always: Rammstein.

Although: That's not entirely true... Question one that he needs to clarify: Are Rammstein playing 'Ich tu dir weh’ again today? Answer: No, unfortunately not - but 'Asche zu Asche' is certainly one of the biggest songs in the Rammstein canon, so that there is only limited scope for complaining.

The following explanation on this subject was posted on December 12, 2009 on the Rammstein Facebook page: « From today on, the instrumental version of 'Ich tu dir weh' will no longer be performed in Germany, since access to the concerts restricted to persons under 18 years would otherwise not be permitted. » Question two, and that's also the case throughout the tour: Do eight (!) new songs really have to be in a 90-minute set? Sure, as a musician you want to play your new material specifically, but there's no denying that so many other hits fall by the wayside. No 'Moscow', no 'Americk’, no 'Mein ‘teil, no 'Mein herz brennt’, no ‘Du riechst so gut’, no ‘Heirate mich’ - the list could go on and on.

Keyboarder Christian 'Flake' Lorenz cannot be at the show today due to an infection. Till Lindemann speaks to the audience personally and does the customer service, but also says that the show was not to be canceled under any circumstances. Alf Ator (formerly Knorkator) was hired as a short-term substitute. Purely in terms of playfulness, there is no loss of quality, only Flake's famous 'dance numbers' are not part of the show today. But Hamburg gets over that too, because the grand finale with 'Ich will' and 'Engel' is exactly to the taste of the Rammstein Die Hards: big Rammstein numbers with an exorbitant hands-on factor. In general, Rammstein naturally convince with a first-class overall performance, even if a number of older hits have to be left behind due to the many new songs. This is still to be discussed. Otherwise, the same applies as before: Rammstein are the power!

18.12. Berlin, Velodrome

Home game! And four times in a row. At their last concerts before Christmas, Rammstein will be honored in the Berlin Velodrom. A difficult task for Combichrist — at least one would think so. But the Norwegians work hard to get the crowd on their side. And they succeed in large parts, they can even encourage you to sing along. Interaction, on the other hand, is not exactly what Rammstein is counting on. Rather, they offer a perfectly staged show. At 9 p.m. Rammstein start the spectacle, which tears the last Berliner out of the winter depression who had to stand in line at minus 7 degrees.

Richard Kruspe and Paul Landers smash their axes through the black stage wall, emerge from the glare of the background — towards the crowd. Till Lindemann bursts onto the stage from the middle of the wall. The beginning of the concert is like giving birth. In contrast to Hamburg, keyboarder Christian ‘Flake’ Lorenz is part of the show again.

You can rely on Rammstein's game with fire and other effects. It has a martial effect when Lindemann squats down, as in 'Benzin', slaps his thighs, bangs wildly and spurts fire in the background. Instead of 'Ich tu dir weh’, the gentlemen in Berlin bring 'Rein Raus' - the audience thanks it and rages. As an ‘Engel’ with silver wings, Lindemann finally releases the visitors from the heat of the velodrome into the cold of the night.

[kenyatta]

(via (41) bell hooks on interlocking systems of domination - YouTube)

BELL HOOKS: I began to use the phrase in my work “white supremacist capitalist patriarchy” because I wanted to have some language that would actually remind us continually of the interlocking systems of domination that define our reality and not to just have one thing be like, you know, gender is the important issue, race is the important issue, but for me the use of that particular jargonistic phrase was a way, a sort of short cut way of saying all of these things actually are functioning simultaneously at all times in our lives and that if I really want to understand what's happening to me, right now at this moment in my life, as a black female of a certain age group, I won't be able to understand it if I'm only looking through the lens of race. I won't be able to understand it if I'm only looking through the lens of gender. I won't be able to understand it if I'm only looking at how white people see me.

To me an important break through, I felt, in my work and that of others was the call to use the term white supremacy, over racism because racism in and of itself did not really allow for a discourse of colonization and decolonization, the recognition of the internalized racism within people of color and it was always in a sense keeping things at the level at which whiteness and white people remained at the center of the discussion. In my classroom I might say to students that you know that when we use the term white supremacy it doesn't just evoke white people, it evokes a political world that we can all frame ourselves in relationship to.

And I think that I was able to do that because I grew up, again, in racial apartheid, where there was a color caste system. So that obviously I knew that through my own experiential reality, you know, that it wasn't just what white people do to black people that was wounding and damaging to our lives, I knew that when we went over to my grandmother's house, who looked white, who lived in a white neighborhood, and she called my sister, Blackie, because she was dark and her hair was nappy and my sister would sit in a corner and cry or not want to go over there. I knew that there is some system here that is hurting this little girl, that is not directly, the direct hit from the white person. And white supremacy was that term that allowed one to acknowledge our collusion with the forces of racism and imperialism.

And so for me those words were very much about the constant reminder, one of institutional construct, that we're not talking about personal construct in the sense of, how do you feel about me as a woman, or how do you feel about me as a black person? But they really seem to me to evoke a larger apparatus and I don't know why those terms have become so mocked by people because in fact, far from simplifying the issues, I think they actually when you merge them together really complicate the questions of freedom and justice globally, because it means then that we have to look at what black people are doing to each other in Rwanda, we can't just say racism, what have you. We have to problemitize nationalism beyond race, in all kinds of ways that I think there's a tremendous reluctance, particularly in the United States to do, to have a more complex accounting of identity.

[readingsquotes]

"

But in the west, we will primarily consider how journalism is, first and foremost, a literary act of war—because everything in the west has been forged in, and is maintained, by war. The United Kingdom was created, and in many ways is upheld despite its decline, through extractive colonialism. This is also true of several of the countries in Europe (which are also not coincidentally among the few nations of the earth opposing a ceasefire in Gaza). Meanwhile, the United States was birthed in—and, if you ask many Native Americans, still defined by—settler colonialism.

As they help to uphold their societies’ hegemony over other nations, the news media of the west reflects these origins and ongoing realities.

And whether it is covering bombs and battlefields abroad or reporting on school districts, city council meetings, police, or gender domestically, journalism in the United States is especially steeped in warfront framing—because public discourse, culture, and language in America are literally referred to as wars.

...

Why is Keller-Lynn allowed to have served in the Israeli military and bragged about being a propagandist for it prior to covering the Israeli military in one of America’s leading news organizations, but Wilder was not allowed to cover Arizona politics at another major outlet, just because she had criticized a foreign government some 7,447 miles away from Phoenix?

Or, considering them both as former students of the same university, we could ask a question with an even more direct comparison: Why did working as an activist for the BDS movement (in a group called Jewish Voices for Peace) end one student’s future journalism career—but having worked as an activist against that same movement, and then as a soldier, did not end another’s?

The answer can be found, in part, in the unique role Israel plays as a de facto branch of the United States military (and thus how it is perpetually adjacent to the power of America’s elite institutions). But the specificity of this example should not elide the broad ways journalism in the United States valorizes American militarism (and that of its allies), loathes activism (especially pacifism), and rewards those who lead careers which generally uphold the status quo.

It speaks to how western journalism is not objective about war. Most mainstream journalism subjectively picks sides in wars (or picks war over peace) and actively promotes specific outcomes. Outlets are operationalized to achieve military goals. Most of the time, journalism’s narrative framing props up what bell hooks called “white supremacist, capitalist, [cis-hetero] patriarchy.” Or, as journalist Ramona Martinez put it, “Objectivity is the ideology of the status quo,” as she told Lewis Raven Wallace in his book The View from Somewhere: Undoing the Myth of Journalistic Objectivity. 

[lostoneshq]

Agora sim, os verdadeiros protagonistas chegaram! São eles, as verdadeiras estrelas. Os verdadeiros donos de suas histórias! Sejam bem vindos, queridos e estimados verdadeiros habitantes do Mundo das Histórias, ao Reino dos Perdidos! Espero que tenham uma estadia tranquila por aqui e não se preocupem pois a magia de Merlin cuidará de tudo para vocês em seus respectivos reinos!

(Joseph Morgan, 42 anos, ele/dele) Atenção, atenção, quem vem lá? Ah, é KILLIAN ARTHUR EVANS HOOK, O CAPITÃO GANCHO, da história PETER PAN! Todo mundo te conhece… Como não conhecer?! Se gostam, aí é outra coisa! Vamos meter um papo reto aqui: as coisas ficaram complicadas para você, né? Você estava vivendo tranquilamente (eu acho…) depois do seu felizes para sempre, você tinha até começado a PIRATEAR… E aí, do nada, um monte de gente estranha caiu do céu para atrapalhar a sua vida! Olha, eu espero que nada de ruim aconteça, porque por mais que você seja PERSISTENTE, você é ARROGANTE, e é o que Merlin diz por aí: precisamos manter a integridade da SUA história! Pelo menos, você pode aproveitar a sua estadia no Reino dos Perdidos fazendo o que você gosta: SER TAVERNEIRO NA THE CROOKED HOOK INN.

(Ni Ni, 35 anos, ela/dela) Atenção, atenção, quem vem lá? Ah, é FA MULAN, da história MULAN! Todo mundo te conhece… Como não conhecer?! Se gostam, aí é outra coisa! Vamos meter um papo reto aqui: as coisas ficaram complicadas para você, né? Você estava vivendo tranquilamente (eu acho…) depois do seu felizes para sempre, você tinha até começado a SER IMPERATRIZ… E aí, do nada, um monte de gente estranha caiu do céu para atrapalhar a sua vida! Olha, eu espero que nada de ruim aconteça, porque por mais que você seja CORAJOSA, você é TEIMOSA, e é o que Merlin diz por aí: precisamos manter a integridade da SUA história! Pelo menos, você pode aproveitar a sua estadia no Reino dos Perdidos fazendo o que você gosta: SER PROFESSORA DE ARTES MARCIAIS NA DRAGONFIRE WARRIOR INSTITUTE.

(Kristine Froseth, 27 anos, ela/dela) Atenção, atenção, quem vem lá? Ah, é TINKERBELL, da história PETER PAN! todo mundo te conhece… Como não conhecer?! Se gostam, aí é outra coisa! vamos meter um papo reto aqui: as coisas ficaram complicadas para você, né? você estava vivendo tranquilamente (eu acho…) depois do seu felizes para sempre, você tinha até começado UM NOVO PROJETO MISTERIOSO… E aí, do nada, um monte de gente estranha caiu do céu para atrapalhar a sua vida! Olha, eu espero que nada de ruim aconteça, porque por mais que você seja FESTIVA, você é EXPLOSIVA, e é o que merlin diz por aí: precisamos manter a integridade da SUA história! Pelo menos, você pode aproveitar a sua estadia no reino dos perdidos fazendo o que você gosta: TOMAR CONTA DE SUA LOJA, A LOST THINGS ANTIQUE.

(Dev Patel, 34 anos, ele/dele) Atenção, atenção, quem vem lá? Ah, é NAVEEN, da história A PRINCESA E O SAPO! Todo mundo te conhece… Como não conhecer?! Se gostam, aí é outra coisa! Vamos meter um papo reto aqui: as coisas ficaram complicadas para você, né? Você estava vivendo tranquilamente (eu acho…) depois do seu felizes para sempre, você tinha até começado a SER RECONHECIDO NO JAZZ… E aí, do nada, um monte de gente estranha caiu do céu para atrapalhar a sua vida! Olha, eu espero que nada de ruim aconteça, porque por mais que você seja VAIDOSO, você é INFIEL, e é o que Merlin diz por aí: precisamos manter a integridade da SUA história! Pelo menos, você pode aproveitar a sua estadia no Reino dos Perdidos fazendo o que você gosta: TOCAR JAZZ.

(Aaron Taylor-Johnson, 33 anos, ele/dele) Atenção, atenção, quem vem lá? Ah, é GASTON LEGUME, da história A BELA E A FERA! Todo mundo te conhece… Como não conhecer?! Se gostam, aí é outra coisa! Vamos meter um papo reto aqui: as coisas ficaram complicadas para você, né? Você estava vivendo tranquilamente (eu acho…) depois do seu felizes para sempre, você tinha até começado a EXÍMIO CAÇADOR DE GRANDE RENOME, FUTURO ESPOSO DE BELLE FRENCH E DEFENSOR HONORÁRIO DA SEGURANÇA DE SUAS PESSOAS PREFERIDAS… E aí, do nada, um monte de gente estranha caiu do céu para atrapalhar a sua vida! Olha, eu espero que nada de ruim aconteça, porque por mais que você seja INABALÁVEL, você é OBTUSO, e é o que Merlin diz por aí: precisamos manter a integridade da SUA história! Pelo menos, você pode aproveitar a sua estadia no Reino dos Perdidos fazendo o que você gosta: COLÍRIO CAPRICHO NA PRÓPRIA TAVERNA.

(Isabela Merced, 25 anos, ela/dela) Atenção, atenção, quem vem lá? Ah, é TOOTHIANA, da história ORIGEM DOS GUARDIÕES! Todo mundo te conhece… Como não conhecer?! Se gostam, aí é outra coisa! Vamos meter um papo reto aqui: as coisas ficaram complicadas para você, né? Você estava vivendo tranquilamente (eu acho…) depois do seu felizes para sempre, você tinha até começado a VOAR PELOS REINOS… E aí, do nada, um monte de gente estranha caiu do céu para atrapalhar a sua vida! Olha, eu espero que nada de ruim aconteça, porque por mais que você seja GENTIL, você é AUDACIOSA, e é o que Merlin diz por aí: precisamos manter a integridade da SUA história! Pelo menos, você pode aproveitar a sua estadia no Reino dos Perdidos fazendo o que você gosta: TRABALHANDO NO SEU CONSULTÓRIO.

[adrianasunderworld]

White Ash Institute Staff

More staff members for White Ash

Constance Wary

Twisted from Prudence

Headmage Cristalerías assistant. A very prim and proper woman, Constance takes her job very seriously. Every woman in her family has graduated from The White Ash Institute for centuries, and thus upholding the integrity of the school and its teachings are very important to her. The students often think she is a stickler for the rules and traditions, but Clara put a great deal of trust in her to help keep the school in order.

May Fae

Twisted from Fairy Mary

The professor of technomancy. As a fairy woman, she is the second oldest staff member of White Ash next to the Headmage herself. A hard working woman and a brilliant mage, she created the magic bell in the Schools clock tower that allows anyone on grounds to properly communicate with the pixies that are on school grounds.

Anne Roger

Twisted from Captain Hook

One of the history professors. Anne grew up sailing all over Twisted Wonderland. A woman known for her fiery temper and a strict teacher, students do not wish to be on her bad side. However despite this, when all is well, students love to hear about her stories from her travels. She over sees a club that teaches the ropes of sailing and takes students out on her boat.

Marie Marsh

Twisted from Mama Odie

The alchemy professor. She is the oldest of the human staff members at White Ash. She is well respected among her colleagues and students for her seemingly vast knowledge and skills in potion making and alchemy. Students often go to her for advice for this very reason and is often referred to affectionately as Mama by them. She has poor eyesight and keeps her snake familiar with her at all times to help her.

Talia Aran

Twisted for Sergeant Calhoun

The Coach of the school. Born in the Kingdom of Heroes, Talia once served in its military for most of her young adult life. After she left, she took a position at White Ash. A strict coach that students often refer to as their drill sergeant, Aran runs a tight ship. In her time working there, it's noted that she has a soft spot for the school's repair man.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

parents meeting when they take their kids to class au with Harriet & Anthony but the kids are CJ and Dizzy. Throw in any other character you want for drama, convenience, or funsies.

Here you go!

It sounded like a first meeting prompt to me, which doesn’t work in canon, so I had to show it into an AU.

...The vaguely 1920 mafia AU for which I still didn’t do any research because I don’t have energy for that, okay? I do however have vibes and the vibes are great and I love my silly AU <3

I also added Ginny Gothel, for Reasons. (Ehm, mutually destructive threesome, ehm.)

Btw it is important for you to know that Harriet and Anthony are using Formal You for eachother the whole time.

Now, please enjoy!

Harriet steps onto the school grounds in one of her best dresses, with just a hint of black. It’s not too long since her first husband oh so tragically passed away, and black <i>does</i> look good on her.

It’s never too early to start looking for new options, especially for such a young widow as herself…

Harriet smirks a bit at that thought.

Nevermind that she’s in fact only there to invite her younger sister to her second wedding – the groom won’t be a problem soon enough, Harriet is sure. Older, the owner of a match factory, has been smoking all his life… He had it coming for quite a while, really, Harriet would say.

She reaches out her hand and rings at the bell by the gate, again. This is definitely not the high end institution that she (by the courtesy of her late husband,be the earth light to him) is paying for.

The thought that the staff might not be coming to greet her because she chose to come in the middle of the morning, and thus the school day, didn't cross her mind. Harriet did not care for time.

She rings again, mostly just to do something.

Time definitely passes (and Harriet hates it).

Finally, someone comes, an older lady. Probably a secretary or something, maybe a janitor. She’s wearing a dress-suit that does not flatter her at all.

She introduces herself to distracted Harriet, who does not care, thank you for asking, and starts apologising and chattering away: „I’m sorry for the inconvenience, really awfully sorry, we didn’t expect you here, miss– …ehm, …ma’am?“

Harriet smiles at the woman. She likes being called like this.

„Hook,“ she says, „Harriet Hook, though it will be Kensington soon.“ Harriet flashes off the abundantly expensive diamond ring on her finger. „I’m here to speak with my sister?“

„Your sister, ma’am?“

„Yes.“ Well, now the woman is just playing dumb, and Harriet has no patience for that. She throws her hair over her shoulder and continues:

„My sister. Calista Jane Hook. I need to speak with her.“

„She’s in her classes right now?“ the woman more asks that says, and Harriet could swear she heard her whisper „hopefully“ under her breath, but also:

„I don’t care,“ she says with as much dramatics as she can muster; if she had a watch, she’d check it right now.

„I need to speak with my sister.“

The nice school lady gulps nervously and Harriet smiles at her.

„Yes, yes, of course. If you’d wait a few moments, ma’am, I’ll fetch her for you.“

The woman turns to leave and Harriet raises a single eyebrow: She does not have the shoes for waiting by the gate, thank you.

„Sorry. Sorry, if you’d follow me?“

„Well, since you’re asking so nicely…“ drawls Harriet and follows into the institution.

She finds herself seated by a small office, which the lady has the audacity to call a saloon. As if. Harriet sits down regardless and allows the lady to flutter away, muttering something that Harriet doesn’t care to hear.

She’s quite preoccupied, you see: There was another person in the room already.

A young gentleman in a tailored if a bit faded suit stands up and greets her with a slight bow of his head.

She nods at him too, her eyes lingering a bit. (He sees and notices and Harriet almost blushes which is absolutely unbecoming.)

She steps closer and extend her hand to him, introducing herself to him, her rings and bracelets shining in the dim light; he presses a light kiss to her knuckles, barely a brush of the lips, and replies:

„I’m Lord Anthony Tremaine, the pleasure is all mine.“

A lord?

Interesting.

Harriet wouldn’t have thought this man a lord, but then again, barely anyone would call her a killer. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?

The man stays standing, only as close as the etiquette allows, obviously, and asks her:

„What brings you here today?“

„I’ve come to talk to my younger sister,“ Harriet idly plays with her ring (the one that contained an exact lethal dosis of arsenic about three months ago), „Invite her to a family celebration, you see?“

Now, Harriet won’t tell the attractive stranger that she’s getting married, will she now?

„And you?“

„Oh, likewise,“ he replies and she can see him lying through his teeth. Interesting.

Nice young gentlemans shouldn’t lie.

Harriet smiles at him and ignores the way his eyes linger on her lips.

„Miserable weather, isn’t it?“ she says idly and he is quick to agree, glad not to linger on family matters any more.

They settle into a polite conversation, way more intriguing than any conversation with a lord has the right to be, up until steps and voices in the hall interrupt them.

A pouting ginger girl comes into the room first, escorted by the lady that greeted Harriet earlier, and immediately bolts to Anthony, hugging him around the waist and muttering something like „But do I have to?“

Harriet looks at him and raises her eyebrow at the way he smiles at the girl, just a small curve to his lips, really–

„Right,“ he clears his throat, „This is my cousin, Desdemona Tremaine. Desdemona, this is Harriet Hook. Greet her.“

The girl steps away and does a very hasty curtsy, looking in between them the whole time, and then beams: „I go by Dizzy actually!“

At that, Anthony quite helplessly shrugs his shoulders, like, what can one do?

…What can one do, really?

Especially since Harriet can already hear her younger sister, kicking up a fuss as she’s escorted to the room by two (!) teachers, one of which looks mildly… Irate.

Yes, that would be the word.

She doesn’t run to hug her, and, gods, she has soot on her cheek.

„I’m guessing that one is yours?“ Anthony says, voice barely above a whisper.

„Yes,“ sighs Harriet, loud enough for CJ to hear clearly, „Unfortunately.“

Then she raises her voice: „Calista Jane. What did you do?“

„Nothing!“ comes the swift and defiant and definitely pouty answer.

Harriet gives her sister a glare, that means „Really?!“ and „I call bullshit,“ and „Keep talking at me, I want to hear what that handsome man over there is saying and not look like I’m eavesdropping even though that’s most definitely what I’m doing.“

…Though the last one might have been more of a predetermined hand gesture, but figures. Calista Jane caught it and keeps chattering at her, likely driving her teachers crazy, and Harriet is left to eavesdrop in relative peace.

(„But Anthony! I don’t want to leave here!“

„You have to, little princess. You have to.“

„But I don’t want to! I like it here, I have friends here!“

„Your grandmother wants you home.“

„But I don’t want to go home!“ The girl is whining by now, and Anthony lowers his voice and god damn it, Harriet wants to look at him. (She doesn’t.)

„I know, but– Listen, Desdemona. Dizzy. We… We don’t have the money to pay for your school right now. We’ll get it soon, I promise, but… You have to come home with me now.“

„But… But I don’t want to…“

„I know–“)

Harriet risks a glance at the man hugging his younger cousin, just a quick look, really, barely a heartbeat– before focusing on her sister. Just in time, it seems:

„…And that’s why absolutely nothing that happened in the lab was my fault!“ finishes CJ rather triumphantly. She smirks as her eyes flicker between Harriet and Anthony, and Harriet shakes her head a little. Not him. No–

No.

CJ smirks even more.

„Yes, yes,“ dismisses Harriet, to the eternal horror of one of the teachers and the secretary, „Not your fault whatsoever, I’m sure.“

She wrings her hands in a gesture that means „We <i>will</i> talk about this later and CJ pouts at her.

Not paying that any mind, Harriet hands her sister the wedding invitation, hand-written on heavy paper and paid for by the groom-to-be, of course.

CJ snatches it and scans the text with eager eyes. She always liked shiny things.

She looks up, her eyes flickering between Harriet and Anthony again, and then she switches languages:

„Is he rich?“ she asks in Latin, and Harriet just hopes the Tremaine lord doesn't understand that, or isn't listening at the very least. 

She smirks and answers regardless: „Filthy rich.“

„Good for you! Will I be invited to the funeral too?“ CJ beams.

„Obviously.“

CJ, still smiling maniacally, switches back to English again:

„Oh Ettie! I need a new dress!“

„No you don't–“ Harriet quickly refuses, ignoring the numerous recent additions to her own wardrobe and jewellery box.

„Yes! I absolutely do!“ CJ drops her voice to entirely inconspicuous whisper, „Once in a lifetime occasion and all that…“

„Calista Jane–“

„Come on, Ettie, pretty please! I really need them! For school!“

„Your school has you wearing uniforms, Calista.“ 

Extremely distasteful piece of clothing, that, but. Small rules must be followed occasionally, to keep up the appearances.

CJ pouts to let everyone know what she thinks about rules in general and uniforms in particular (she isn't wearing hers anyway), and then adds:

„I don't wanna be there anyway.“

„Sounds like a you problem to me,“ says Harriet, her eyes gliding from Anthony to one of the teachers, the only person in the room who appears to be having a good time besides CJ. She's smiling slightly, only a slight curve to her lips, and Harriet likes the glint in her eyes. She watches her winding up her curls around her index finger and then letting it bounce back up.

„Harriet!“ 

Harriet blinks as her sister snaps her fingers in front of her face.

„Harry doesn't have to go to school anymore, so why do I have to?!“

…Yeah, that would be because Harry didn't ask. He run away to roam the streets with some girl, who, quite coincidentally, seems to be running a gang. Harriet has seen him once since her first wedding, when he and the girl delivered her the arsenic more swiftly than she could hope for otherwise.

All in all, Harry has fallen in with the uglier part of Auradon City Underworld, and has no intention of leaving.

Just as Harriet has no intentions of telling her younger sister about the vivacious criminal street life right now.

…He also might or might not have opened a highly illegal alcohol-bar, which CJ also doesn’t need to know. Yet. It’s not like she could make any useful connections at high-end, highly exclusive privileged-girls-only internate school, is it now?

„Harry is older than you,“ Harriet says instead.

CJ doesn't argue, thankfully.

Well, for the moment, at least, likely rendered speechless by the flawless argument, but Harriet doesn’t want to give her a chance to start.

„So,“ She claps her hands, „If that’s all, I'll be on my way.“

She hopes Anthony stops her, though, and maybe invites her for a tea or something. Yeah, tea would be nice.

It’s not Anthony who stops her.

It is a rather furious whispering of the teachers that has Harriet frozen on the spot, and making a long face into the doors.

She could leave anyway.

„Ma’am?“

But that would be rude, wouldn’t it, and Harriet Hook cannot afford to be seen as rude. Too much, anyway.

„Yes?“ Harriet turns around with a fake smile with too much teeth that would make smarter people run; come to think of it, the youngest teacher <i>does</i> look like she wants to run.

Good for her.

The others just look like they’d like to be away from CJ’s general vicinity, which is the general state of being.

„While you are here, ma’am, we hoped to go over some things relating to your sister, if that’s all right.“ The lady does not wait for an answer, which is just crude, and instead motions to the youngest teacher. You know, the pretty one, with the survival instincts?

„Ginevra here will go over some of the concerns we have with you.“

Consequently, Harriet might or might not stared at Ginevra with her curly hair and murderous stare so hard that she didn’t notice the other staff leaving nor Anthony shushing his cousin to listen in. She did notice her sister’s giggles, though.

She shakes her head, her own curls bouncing around her shoulders, and extremely subtly gives CJ the middle finger. Manners, you see.

„Will we be discussing Desdemona’s progress here as well?“ asks Anthony, voice cold and deep but curious, „And might we get your name, miss…?“

„Right,“ the woman taps at her clavicle, thus causing Harriet to look somewhere else too. Before she can look away, CJ subtly hits her, and, judging by the quiet „ow,“ Dizzy does the same for her cousin.

Interesting.

Harriet will not be thinking of that.

„Right,“ the teacher repeats, „I’m Ginevra Gothel and–“

–And Harriet Hook almost chokes on pure air.

„Gothel?! That Gothel?!“ she gets out just as the young Tremaine Lord recovers from his coughing fit and asks the same damn question!

Harriet would like to know why the interesting handsome young lord knows who Gothel is, please and thank you.

She wouldn't put him down as the type to recognise the name of a human trafficker, even as famed as Gothel is. Well, famed.

That bitch usually just goes by „Mother,“.

Gothel widens her eyes at them and frantically gestures towards the door: Not now!

From which Harriet concludes that she is, in fact, that Gothel, (Wasn’t she older?), and that she is leaving immediately. And CJ is too, tuition fee be damned.

She grabs CJ’s wrist hard enough to bruise and across the room, Anthony brings his cousin close.

„I’m– I’m not that Gothel,“ her voice drops, „I’m her daughter, okay? I run away. Please, don’t tell?“

She’s looking around the eyes with wide eyes and a strand of her hair curled around her index finger and god damn it–

„Ettie?“ CJ quips up, „She’s the best teacher there. My favourite teacher.“ (Calista Jane is making the exact same doe eyes as Gothel.)

„Don’t make them fire her?“

Harriet looks at her sister:

„Well, as long as she makes you go to the school…,“ she drawls.

She looks back at Gothel’s daughter, eyes as cold as she can manage:

„We <i>will</i> talk about this,“ she assures her, and Anthony (!) agrees from the other side of the room, one arm still protectively around Dizzy (!!).

„That we will,“ he says, stone and steel. 

(Damn it, damn it damn it–)

„So, you know,“ shrugs Harriet nonchalantly, throwing her hair over her shoulder, „If you want to live, meet me Saturday six o’clocks by the Revenge.“

With that, Harriet Hook leaves the dreadful institute, and by all that is holy, does she hope they’ll both turn up.

If not, well. 

She can track them down.

It’s not like she has anything to do besides marriage planning, and funeral arrangements.

As she leaves, she can hear Ginevra Gothel telling her colleagues that she agreed to sort everything school-related with her over the weekend, how kind of her, right?

She turns around to wave at everyone and glare at CJ a bit, just so she wouldn’t think she’d get away with whatever happened at the labs.

„See you soon, Harriet Hook!“ Anthony Tremaine calls after her and why, yes, this visit was certainly something.

Do not listen to the childish giggles of the girls, please.

[foesofthefemme]

Patriarchy and the "Kill All Men" Feminist-Mentality.

It is quite obvious that patriarchy has imposed an excruciating number of disadvantages on women. Feminist scholars and activists have dedicated decades of research, literature, and activism to illustrate the ways in which this occurs. Traditional gender roles place women in small boxes that require them to be submissive, petite, passive, and insatiably obsessed with male validation. This is only the tip of the patriarchy-induced-downfalls iceberg. 

As previously mentioned, patriarchy is a well-covered subject, there is certainly no shortage of literature and commentary on the construct. However, people often want to oversimplify patriarchy so intensely that some of its most important aspects are lost or forgotten. I don’t blame them, it’s a disgustingly complex topic to cover. This is especially true when the blame game enters the conversation. Who do we blame for patriarchy and why? The given answer is almost always men, of course. Furthermore, I think that giving this answer is a way of taking the easy way out. To oversimplify patriarchy and play the blame game is to deny its overarching impact on both women and men, exacerbating the vicious cycle. 

Author and feminist theorist, Bell Hooks, addresses this aspect of patriarchy in several of her works. It was when I first read “Understanding Patriarchy” that I realized the “kill all men” feminist-mentality that many have adopted is outright backwards. Patriarchy negatively affects women in ways that seem obvious to us because of how well it has been deconstructed, analyzed, and disseminated by talented authors like Bell Hooks. This is not a bad thing by any means. However, the ways in which patriarchy negatively affects men don’t jump out at us at first since this aspect of feminism is largely overlooked, unexamined, and not discussed often enough. 

The rise and spread of the “kill all men” feminist-mentality has set us back several years, I fear. This mentality is based on the notion that past and present-day men are the enemy and the root of all feminist problems. I am not denying that patriarchy was and still is a structure set up by men. However, the fact that men, especially young men, also fall victim to the patriarchy and have no means to escape is almost never considered. Most men go their entire adult lives not considering this either. Hooks provides a thorough analysis of this, “Patriarchy demands of men that they become and remain emotional cripples. Since it is a system that denies men full access to their freedom of will, it is difficult for any man of any class to rebel against patriarchy, to be disloyal to the patriarchal parent, be that parent female or male,” (Hooks, 2004, p. 5). 

Both women and men are socialized into adhering to strict gender roles. This often begins with the “patriarchal parent,” as Bell Hooks calls it. Associate professor Michele Ramsey says, “Children learn their communication patterns and gender roles from a variety of people and institutions, but their parents are the ones that they, in theory, interact with the most” (Hartley, 2017). Why do you think Chad from gym class is the epitome of toxic masculinity? He was most likely raised to be that way by parents who imposed strict gender roles onto him, creating a horribly misconstrued and toxic perception of what it means to be a man. Having sympathy for men like Chad is inherently difficult, but once it is realized that their actions reflect their upbringing and the mold they were taught to fit in, it becomes much easier. 

Fathers teach their sons to suppress emotions, provide for the women in their lives, be aggressive and violent, and look “masculine,” as society defines it. The men who don’t conform are labeled “pussies” or “pansies,” and are socially ostracized. Men’s mental health is often overlooked, and the suicide rates among young men reflect this. Men are placed into small boxes, just as women are. To solely blame men for the patriarchy and all its implications is to ignore some of the most imperative values of feminism. It is my opinion that we cannot dismantle patriarchy until society understands how it is present in all walks of life, especially men’s lives. It is not until we acknowledge that patriarchy has historically affected both men and women negatively that we can deconstruct it. 

"To truly address male pain and male crisis we must as a nation be willing to expose the harsh reality that patriarchy has damaged men in the past and continues to damage them in the present. If patriarchy were truly rewarding to men, the violence and addiction in family life that is so all-pervasive would not exist." - Bell Hooks

References

Women Aren't Nags- We're Just Fed Up. (Hartley, 2017).

Understanding Patriarchy. (Hooks, 2004).

[joshuadunshua]

Actually what if I made a post that’s just a thread of suggestions for expanding your understanding of feminist theory? Feel free to add!

I’m a scholar, admittedly, so my contributions are all either books or essays, and they range pretty widely in terms of ease-of-reading. I’ll highlight the ones that are less dense and less incredibly academic in language.

Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center — bell hooks (book)

Feminism Is For Everybody — bell hooks (book)

The Will to Change — bell hooks (book)

if you struggle to or just don’t want to read works that use textbook/academic language, I can’t recommend bell hooks enough. Her work is intentionally written for people not already familiar with feminist scholarship, it’s written for the common person not eyeball deep in The Literature™ because you should not have to be in order to learn more about visionary feminism & why it’s important for everyone.

Multiracial Feminism: Recasting the Chronology of Second Wave Feminism — Becky Thompson (article)

Feminism in ‘Waves’: Useful Metaphor or Not? — Linda Nicholson (article)

Unlearn mainstream feminist history! ^

The Combahee River Collective Statement

The Transfeminist Manifesto & Postscript — Emi Koyama

The Transunitist Manifesto — Luke B.

Required reading imo. ^ none of these are very long!

The rest just come very strongly recommended:

Black Feminist Thought — Patricia Hill Collins (book)

Re-Thinking Intersectionality — Jennifer C. Nash (article)

Punks, Bulldaggers, and Welfare Queens: The Radical Potential of Queer Politics? — Cathy J. Cohen (article)

Heteropatriarchy and the Three Pillars of White Supremacy: Rethinking Women of Color Organizing — Andrea Smith (article)

The Social Organization of Masculinity — Raewyn Connell (article)

And if I had to pick two things that aren’t available for me to link you to online, it would be:

Gender: Ideas, Interactions, Institutions (2nd ed.) — Lisa Wade & Myra Marx Ferree (textbook)

Bananas, Beaches, and Bases: Making Feminist Sense of International Politics (2nd ed.) — Cynthia Enloe (book)

Technically that first one is an academic book but it is well written and, especially for a textbook on such a complex topic, rather easy to read.

[fatehbaz]

KN:  [...] I think what is sitting in my heart at this moment is how to hold this together: a will to do things otherwise and build things elsewhere, in ways that keep sight of power – and yet refuse it as totalising. This might be what María Lugones meant when she challenged us to work beyond “the logic of power” in her theorisation of/toward decolonial feminism. [...] What Lugones proposes (insists!) is not an abstract theoretical musing, something to be puzzled out by refracting ideas through frameworks. Rather, it is something to be done – a practice that we envision and embody because we must. [...]

KH: [...] We are also drawing on a longer history of thinking about radical pedagogy (hooks, Freire, Boal and more – including many unpublished practitioners). [...] [S]ituated as we are within colonial extractive institutions, what is our relation to knowledge? We can think with Michel-Rolph Trouillot about how this relationship – which is invested with power – is obscured, as knowledge travels, enters, and circulates within institutions [...]. How do we make choices about what we share? As we move through the business of knowledge production, do we ask ourselves: who needs to know this, and why? Trouillot says, “the ultimate mark of power may be its invisibility; the ultimate challenge, the exposition of its roots.” How can we keep the roots of meta-structures of domination and extraction clear and visible to ourselves, and at the same time work, as Chandra Mohanty says, as “insurgent” communities within our institutions? How can we develop working practices which honour the engagements we have with the peoples, lives, histories, ideas that we work with?

KN: Yes, we are coming to a shared concern: what does it mean to work “beyond the logic of power” and build “insurgent communities” within extractive institutions? What does that require of us? In other spaces and times, I’ve named academia and Higher Education as explicitly neoliberal, shaped by capitalist ideals to the extent that (successful) teaching and learning yields subjects who reproduce the prevailing order and the violence that sustains it. I know that among us, we follow Paulo Freire and bell hooks in refusing that logic, and instead insist that education can be otherwise – that knowledge cultivation and sharing can move us toward “critical consciousness” (conscientização) and practices of freedom. [...]

---

KN: So the question is definitely one of method – how exactly do we work in these ways [...]? In The Undercommons, Stefano Harney and Fred Moten catch us with this claim: “THE ONLY POSSIBLE RELATIONSHIP TO THE UNIVERSITY IS A CRIMINAL ONE.” [...] Instead, Harney and Moten invite us into fugitivity:

[I]t cannot be denied that the university is a place of refuge, and it cannot be accepted that the university is a place of enlightenment. In the face of these conditions one can only sneak into the university and steal what one can. To abuse its hospitality, to spite its mission, to join its refugee colony, its gypsy encampment, to be in but not of – this is the path of the subversive intellectual in the modern university.

“To be in but not of.” This is to accept that our labour might be captured or extracted (even willingly) by the institution – that we might “be beneficial to capital” – but to do our work beneath the surface, refusing to serve its logics by “disappear[ing] into the underground.” This is a space/time of the future, where we are learning, building, nourishing, creating, and preparing for a new order. [...]

---

KH: [...] Through them, I am also asking: can we meet each other in other ways? At a morning MA seminar [...], I began our session with a quick warm up game taken from the methods of Augusto Boal [...]. It encouraged members of the class to look at one another, and to lead by paying attention to and reading non-verbal cues. At the same time, it occurred to me that the exchange was still being shaped by other power dynamics, including race, physical appearance and clothing, and dis/ability. For a myriad of reasons, people don’t necessarily always want to be seen, or known. [...] This approach to learning involves grappling with discomfort and learning to de-centre. Teaching students to de-centre themselves – by asking who is known? who is know-ing? who is know-er? [...]

---

KN: These are worlds we can build and inhabit – they hold what was, what is, and what will be. They are spaces of secrecy, criminality and solidarity, revolt, retreat, and release. They are sites of study and strategy, offering care, love, nourishment, and pleasure. These fugitive worlds are where we meet and dream together – where we hold each other up when the doing feels too much, where we take turns carrying the weight. They are not ephemeral, but rising and receding according to our needs and careful judgement/s of the moment. We can be there learning, agitating, disrupting, growing, and laughing – and at the same time here, rising to the surface to steal what we can.

I am starting to understand how we might create these worlds with people we meet through the extractive institutions we work in (but are not of) – on picket lines [...], in classrooms and hallways, at protests and workshops – in time that may be “stolen” by virtue of the systems and norms that define criminality, but in truth is reclaimed, re-purposed, and re-valued. Finding our communities can be an act of recognition, seeing/hearing/feeling/sensing yourself in another (even if a fleeting glimpse) or something more radical: recognising “[…] that this shit is killing you, too, however much more softly.” I think this is partly what leads us toward decolonial and anticolonial feminist praxis, pedagogies, and thought: the belief that when we work in antithetical ways we are also in motion toward each other.

---

Words of: Katie Natanel, Kanwal Hameed, and Amal Khalaf. “Toward a Liberation Pedagogy.” Kohl. Volume 9 Number 1. Special Issue: Anticolonial Feminist Imaginaries. Winter 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[aroaceconfessions]

I was reading Bell Hooks' Talking Back and reached the part "about self recovery" and there she speaks about having to speak using the language of the oppressor and on the first moment I'm reading it as a poor black woman in university, surrounded by middle class and rich white men but then it hits me "Right, that's not the only thing queer about me in this situation".

And reading it I understand how the value is attributed according to hegemonic culture, forcing the oppressed to share their experience under some kind of translator so that we can transmit it in a way that fits the standards of the oppressor, we force ourselves to feel in a way that they can understand, to act on our feelings in a way that is acceptable for them and it's about being a black woman yes but is no different for me as the experience of being aspec.

Actually, while reading it I could only think about this part of me. I feel safer around poc and around woman and around people who are not going to look down on me for the price tag of my clothes and my cellphone brand and because of where I live I'm usually in safer spaces, I have spaces where I can feel my anger and pain unapologetically. But amongst many things there's this one that I don't, this one I have to speak about as if it's a minor inconvenience, no matter where I am I can not run from the agony and I can't express it, there's no place where I can feel safe, where I can forget for one single second that I'm different. I won't ever belong.

I am aromantic.

See? It's underwhelming. Because we never talk about how it feels to be Aro using the big words, for the good and for the bad. When we try to explain what we are, who we are, we always need to lessen our feelings — unconsciously from what I've seen online — so that others will listen.

Because I'm not allowed to feel intensely about my own identity much less my own oppression, they don't understand, because they think it doesn't matter. There are dozens of posts just in this blog, I bet from all around the world, about institutional, political, nationwide laws and societal organizations that establishes something that hurts aro, aces and non-partnering people, and since I can't speak strongly against the big shit imagine if I do so about the "lesser" problems (in quotations because when it comes to caring for Aros everything is a lesser problem).

I am not even allowed to say they are making privileges for partnering (specifically abled) peopel on taxes because they won't see it as a privilege, it's a "little help", sometimes it's even a "reward". I'm (not really) sorry but a reward is only a reward when everyone has the chance of achieving it, if the opportunity is not the same then it is a privilege for those who can try to achieve and a reminder to the rest — to us! — that we are in the wrong and living the way we do is not how it is supposed to be.

You know the worst part? Is not explicit. It's something people don't even realize. Like I said, we've read many confessions here, living costs, hospitals, job seeking, health treatments, everything is so incredibly amisiac not in an "I hate you" way, or "you are not allowed to this" way, in a "I don't recognize your existence, not because I want to exclude you, but because the possibility that something like this exist doesn't cross my mind and even when it does I just dismiss it because that's not how real people are in real life" way.

It's that point where you feel the neurodivergent, the disabled and the non-partnering experience slightly converging, when you see the world being built around you and you can't fit. They are not even making an effort to keep you out, this is not like a bar with a little sign that says you are not allowed in, is more like a tavern from a magical world with a natural barrier against you. You can't force yourself in, you can't ask them to change, you need to convince people to leave it.

And by it I mean our cultures, our societies, because adding our flags to pride and making teachers learn sign language is great, but June is here and no one else talks about us and when we talk about ourselves no one else hears and all our classmates can't even sign a hello so it's no different than learning alone.

And I can't be angry about it! Not strongly at least, I can't be intense, I can't be scary, I can't be loud about it, because if I do I'm turning it into a big deal and it shouldn't even though it is very much a big deal despite it not affecting you specifically. So I gotta lower myself, I can't be direct, I can't say that your viral speech about love is harmful to loveless people just because it was said with good intentions, because they are advocating for a good cause, because "the world is lacking in love and that's why it is this way" is trying to push for the good and I'm in the way of it.

What the world needs is more respect, that is the opposite of hate. Your "love"? It is harming me. Actively. I'm being painted as a villain and I'm not even allowed to be mad about it. I can't say a single fuck, literally, if I use the word fuck I am in the wrong.

Somehow I am as much part of the problem as the ones spreading hate. So if I, the Aspec, speak out of line, if the Aspec doesn't take lots of care with each word used, the tone, the expressions, the gestuees, then you have every right to step on me and, I know this from years of experience, no one will stop you.

[The Bell Hooks anon here again, got a bit anxious about someone misunderstanding me so I just wanted to say that what I was talking relates to the self-recovery explained in the book, which is a way to find or create the language needed to talk back and speak up, and what I meant was we cannot find this self-recovery as a community if we don't find ourselves (being aspec, the individuals and not being aspec the victims, the invisible beings), and since there's no self prior to amatonormativity and amisia (no matter how nice your family is and how protected you've grown, like I said, the aphobia is not explicit so people don't even know they are being aphobic), to find a full self we need to talk about what is like to be us, we need to create a collective, we are so very different but we are still one single community, and that includes talking about what hurts us, and we need to be truthful about it so we can find what it is that pain us as a whole, what it is that can be changed and find means to create change, actual tangible change that can function intersectionally but also independently. It won't work if we are not allowed (by others or by our own conscious) to talk about it in the way we feel it. Adding to that the issue of breaking from the oppressor she talks about, you can't be afraid of educating and even calling out someone for something aphobic even if minor, the prejudice can only be solved when the person doing it changes, we've been silenced before, we lost any sense of unity and it's great we have a space like this to ease our minds and vent like I'm doing right now but we need to know what is it we want to say then make ourselves heard. And no one hears when you whisper in the middle of a hurricane.]

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #4: Off the Hook

Throughout her travels, Tir had met adventurers from all walks of life, those who could speak to deeds great and small. Many had seen wonders she could only dream of or terrors she was grateful remained beyond her comprehension.

Since her arrival to Eorzea, she had never heard of anyone getting detained by the Gold Saucer's security.

Even the holding office kept to the theming of the rest of the facility. They had been brought to a room little bigger than a closet, with only a wobbly bench covered in threadbare upholstery - and across from where they had been made to sit, a painted portrait of the founder hung on the green wall. The man depicted bore an imperious, somewhat disapproving stare behind circular red spectacles.

"This is eerie," her co-conspirator remarked.

They waited together in that room for what felt to Tir like an eternity, though it was likely no more than half a bell. At one point, the young man stood and walked closer to examine the portrait.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just looking," he replied, far too innocently. He made to lift it from the wall and it did not budge. She must have made a face at him that he did not appreciate, because he shrugged and sat back down beside her.

Only a few minutes later, the Elezen guard who had apprehended them returned with a clipboard and pen.

"Your names?" he said. "And don't lie - we'll be checking your Grand Company references."

"Sihtric Selsson," said the boy at her side - then, more pointedly, "Warrior of Light."

"Tircolas Flow. Mother Superior of the Kiltian Priesthood."

The guard squinted between the both of them, as if trying to determine whether she was making some sort of reference he didn't understand, or a joke at his expense. When she and Sihtric remained straight-faced, his frown only deepened. "I'd have expected a Warrior of Light and a… whatever it is you are to be much more respectful of others' institutions."

At that, Sihtric gave a strange noise, and the guard rounded on him. "Can't speak for her," he said, "but… I think you maybe don't know many Warriors of Light."

He wasn't exactly helping their case.

"We're very sorry," Tir chimed in.

"Yes," Sihtric continued. "We're very sorry."

"You broke a Cuff-A-Cur machine worth nearly half a million gil."

"It was an accident!" they said in unison.

The guard sighed and shuffled through the papers on his clipboard. "Yes. I can imagine you didn't know that the objective was to punch the plush Gilgamesh - not obliterate the entire machine."

"It's my first time here," said Tir. "And I've never met Sihtric before. I just wanted to give him a little… boost. More for good luck than anything."

"Eyewitnesses reported you letting out-" Again he checked his notes. "'An unholy screech,' and 'convulsions like you meant to level the heavens.'"

"It's a traditional dance from Lea Monde - adapted from the teachings of Saint Iocus, meant to facilitate concentration."

"Worked pretty well, too," said Sihtric. "And to be honest, it sounds like we aren't the ones who need to be respectful of others' institutions. She wasn't 'screeching' or having 'convulsions' - it's her culture, and it's in danger of being eradicated thanks to the Garleans. The least people could do is treat it with respect."

Tir glanced sidelong at Sihtric. In spite of his grave words - or perhaps because of them - he was only barely keeping a straight face.

"That's right," she added. "I am… extremely offended."

"And I don't think Ashelia Riot, Eorzea's ambassador to Dalmasca, would be pleased to have to tell Lord Manderville about the disrespect a Dalmascan dignitary was afforded in a place meant to provide entertainment to all."

The guard dragged a hand over his face. "Right, then. You're clear to go. Both you. But you-" He pointed to Tir. "No more dancing here unless you're on our payroll. And you-" He pointed to Sihtric, much more seriously. "You're already on our watchlist. No, no-" Sihtric opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but the guard cut him off. "You know what you've done. I would make yourself scarce here for the remainder of the year, if you know what's good for you."

Sihtric bounded up from the bench and held out his hands to lift Tir in turn, while she still sat grappling with this turn of events. "Right," he said, with the conversational air of one departing a friend's residence. "We'll be off, then. It's been a pleasure, as always."

He practically dragged her out of the security office; when they rounded the corner and returned to the bustle of the aetheryte plaza, he asked her, "You've still got it?"

She tapped her right foot upon the carpet, then the left. Both pant legs jingled with bags full of their illbegotten MGP. She reached down, untucked the left bag, and passed it to Sihtric.

He saluted her with mock solemnity, tucked the bag into his own waistband before another of the guard patrols could pass them by, and set off toward the airship landing. "Pleasure doing business with you, Tircolas Flow."