#But I feel like it's been made very clear that being vampires only exacerbated real human issues.

[wellzofyouth]

Iwtv is such a complex and beautiful show but its been wrapped up in shipping and fandom culture to the point where anything or any theme that isn't centered around who's fucking who (race, gender, class, memory, fatherhood, ABUSE etc etc) gets ignored or downplayed.

It's so sad that you can't even engage or analyze those topics without being dragged into discourse because somebody perceived you to be attacking their "canceled wives" or not understanding Gothic romance or whatever.

It's so sad that some people in this fandom make light of real world problems/tragedies just so they can feel better for liking flawed characters. It's downright infuriating how infuriating how some of yall treat others who call out bigotry in this fandom.

Idk it makes me so sad because this is like the first show Ive seen that engages with things like being a gay black male during that time period as well as being a father mourning the loss of your daughter, religion, and family and all that. So when it gets boiled down to just discourse of whatever because you want to actually engage with text instead of seeing it as simply source material for ao3 fic its like whatever man.

And I'm not saying this to be pretentious or get on my tumblr soapbox to preach about media literacy or anything. It just upsets me.

[shelfperson]

i think a lot of this comes from the fact that some people don’t seem to recognize what daniel’s doing as a form of prostitution? the textual narrative surrounding that era of his life does not frame him as a victim, except for when in contact with vampires. but vampires, and especially THESE vampires, have always been symbols of sexual “perversity” and sexual danger.

which, in my opinion, is a big contributor to the moralizing that pops up in this fandom. trying to determine the True Villain in a way that just doesn’t pop up in hannibal, for example. this is a show highly concerned with sexuality. not (always) sexual IDENTITY, but the physical act of sex and it’s psychological/social effect.

and every single main character is either subtextually or textually a sexual “deviant”, assailant, or otherwise has a warped sense of their own sexuality while ALSO being the victims of sexual violence. this obviously creates a charged fandom environment, because sexual violence is for good reason the ultimate tabboo, and the show’s approach to it is to take for granted that you the viewer knows sexual violence is bad on principle, and then explore the topic from all angles. which is. hard for some people. so even if you grasp the sexual discussion, people tend to miss the nuance.

especially when, like the Paper Bag incident, the sexual exploitation at play is rarely rape. obviously armand bears the most explicit burden, and his backstory been pretty extensively covered so I don’t feel the need to rehash. same with danny.

but louis’ role as the house wife places his body under a certain amount of ownership, attempts to leave resulting in violent retribution. which is only exacerbated in his relationship with armand where consent goes out the window when mind control is involved and, like i said before, this is not a relationship where things like safewords happen. all the while, at the same time, louis is actively working as a pimp and/or killing 128 young lovers he lured to his house with drugs.

claudia’s relationship to sex can never be normal just by virtue of her body. and like louis, she spent several years extensively murdering her sexual partners who were by her own admission either much younger than her or literal paedophiles. still haven’t forgotten the breasts cut off and kept in her vanity. and none of this takes away from her experiences with sexual assault, or the horrible, horrifying violence she endured. and yet i never really see people talk about this aspect of her character, because it IS uncomfortable. Incredibly so. And her relationship with Madeleine is the natural evolution of this discussion, which is why i’m so surprised when people act blindsided or betrayed by their relationship OR when people act like there nothing at all weird happening between them.

i’ll admit, lestat’s backstory is the shallowest connect to be made here, but that’s mostly because we haven’t SEEN it. even so, there’s still a subtextual throughline here. he’s an adulterer and a domestic abuser, who was himself made subtext to the patriarchal machine that placed ownership over his body. kidnapped and left for death, after the explicitly sexual metaphor of his turning. and of course however they adapt gabrielle remains to be seen, but it’s impossible to discount an incestous relationship with one’s mother.

idk, this is really just a rant but i think a lot of the divisiveness that crops up sometimes really comes down to this. like with loumand, for instance. despite it being very clear their power dynamic is the Most Complicated, people see the very real and intentional commentary in louis being a former pimp and armand a former prostitute and make the a surface level assumption about who is at “fault” in the relationship, who exactly is the predator, when in fact there’s a whole dialogue about sexual autonomy at play here i’ve barely even gotten into.

while i see where some if it comes from, i feel like way more people took “as a former sex slave, armand is disgusted by teenage daniel’s sexual behavior” from the torture scene and not “daniel has been prostituting himself for drugs presumably for years, and armand both relates to and is repulsed by daniel as a form of projection” and i think that’s extremely fascinating.

like it’s a very consistent vampire trait that they only really get up in arms about social issues that affected them in their mortal life, and even then only when it would directly affect them now. i.e, claudia and louis being aware of and condemning racism but not really caring about european nazism despite very real parallels.

and there is. a big difference. between the ultimately consensual gross misogyny of the paper bag incident and armand being sold to a brothel as a child, then kept as a rich man’s catamite experiencing regular sexual assult.

AND armand is a man who does not experience that kind of day-to-day indignity. those are completely separate circumstances and armand doesn’t give any reaction to the memory aside from what it means for daniel. in fact, that remark has very little to do with how armand feels and everything to do with daniel’s lifelong feelings of guilt for constantly being a fucking asshole.

and the vampire armand, specifically, is not a creature prone to sympathizing with people who share his struggles anyway. especially not strangers he doesn’t know. look at the way he treats claudia, specifically. she’s in a spot similar to him, both growing up and now. constantly robbed of agency, both infantilized and adultified depending on what’s convenient, and in the books of course they’re both child vampires. and he doesn’t offer her any compassion whatsoever because he’s the type of person to take his suffering out on others and reenact his trauma with himself in marius’s place.

like mr. i-constantly-mind-control-my-lover, duchess of unsafe bdsm practices, is not offended by daniel’s understanding (or lack thereof) of power dynamics or safe and respectful sex. he’s throwing the boy across the kitchen because he doesn’t understand what makes danny special when, despite all similarities, he himself is not.

[gazrgaley]

Manifestation of a Monster (part3)

Warm-Blooded Vampires

Justin kept telling himself that the concept of the undead, blood drinkers, and vampires were not real. He pondered this as he got dressed. He found it unsettling that Milo had gone to his home to get him new clothes. But in the grand scheme, it was the least of his worries.******

This thought drowned out Milo’s words about presenting a certain way. He wondered how old Milo had been. Had he been old enough to be a slave? They would explain why he was now obsessed with his appearance. But he sounded like he was more European. He was sure that they had slaves, but was it as bad as in America?

He shook his head. Milo was not a vampire. He was just some crazy person he had to get away from. So why hadn’t he tried to get away yet? As they left the lobby, neither of them noticed a bald man raising from one of the side rooms, trying in vain to get their attention.

“You said there was a place to get tea around here?” Milo asked for the third time as he placed the top hat on his head.

“Yes, I already said.” Justin pointed across the street. “Just over there.”

Milo glanced across the street. “I don’t know if I care for it. Are there any others we could go to?”

“No, it’s the best one in town. At least for coffee, or. Never Mind, just come on.” Justin was often called pretentious, but this was ridiculous. Milo could at least appreciate something for what it was worth and not just judge it for its appearance. Yes, the place wasn’t crisp and clean, but they made do with what they had. And making it steampunk-themed made the exposed ceilings work. The lighting may look cheap at first glance, but with very little effort, you can see it wasn’t. And most of the rust was just paint. He just couldn’t appreciate the beauty in it.

This was all exacerbated by the fact that Milo wouldn’t even give it a proper look. It didn’t matter how good his eyes were. You can’t see through people. If he just took a few steps forward to the curb, he could see it better. Instead, he put as much distance between himself and the coffee shop, practically hugging the walls of the buildings they passed.

“No, I don’t think it will suit me.” Continuing to walk forward until they hit the intercession. Jumping back as a car blasted his horn, and nearly hit another pedestrian. Milo glared at the driver as it swerved past.

“It wasn’t honking at you.” Of course, he would be the kind of person who takes everything personally. Justin slammed his hand into the crosswalk button. “Well, it’s the one we are going to. It’s my favorite, and I’m not going another six blocks to a generic chain store just because it looks nicer.” At that point, Milo hadn’t been talking. But Justin was determined to hold his ground.

The white walking man flashed as people crossed in all directions and all traffic was brought to a halt. Milo picked up his stride as he crossed the street, waiting at the corner of the building until Justin could make it over.

Crazy Bean was the best place to go. And he knew everyone that worked on a first-name basis. Perhaps they would know something was wrong and could help him. It was only as he reached for the door handle had he realized he did not know how he would ask for help without Milo noticing.

At that same moment, as if he read his mind, Milo placed a hand on Justin’s shoulder. He could hear Milo speak, but not with his ears. The voice came from his mind. It wasn’t his thoughts but Milo’s. “It would be in the best interest of you and your friends not to tell them what has happened between us.” A threat. It was clear as day that was what it was. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. They said, If you out me, I will make you pay. I will make you wish you were never born. And I will harm everyone you love before turning on you. Justin turned to Milo’s vacant expression. “Shall we go in?” he asked as he gestured to the door with a pleasant smile.

As they entered, it was clear to Milo that the place had seen better days. But it was also clear that whoever owned it put a lot of love and work into the place. The grunge was strategically placed and quite clean. It was perplexing why anyone would want their place to look dirty, but it was a far improvement from the places that acutely were. The place had been packed, which was normally a good sign of the quality. He did not know what the economy was like, so the prices next to the items meant nothing to him.

The people didn’t bother him. He had always lived in high-density areas. The cars on the other hand. They made him uneasy, a way he hadn’t felt in thousands of years. They moved too fast; they were too big, and they were controlled by humans, from what he could tell. Humans shouldn’t be in control of anything that gives them too much power. It never ended well.

A short woman with jet black hair and a name tag that read Vicky greeted them. Her arms crossed and her brow rose. “And where were you last night?” Her cold and angry gaze was directed at Justin. “Amy said you stood her up.”

“I, um.” He turned to Milo. Not sure what he could say.

“That would be my fault, my dear.” Milo took a step forward. His expression, desperate. “You see, I haven’t seen Justin in so long. And after being away from family for so long, one finds it hard to take no for an answer.”

Her hard, cold stance melted away. “Well, I suppose that’s a good reason. What will you guys have today?” Now in a happier mood, she reached for a pen and paper.

It had not been a good reason, Milo noted to himself. He had hardly given her a reason at all. But at least he was still able to do that much. Manipulating people’s feelings weren’t hard and required few supernatural abilities.

“What do you want to drink?” Justin asked, pointing to the menu.

The words made little to no sense. There was an uneasiness that bubbled up inside him once more. His mind was in a fog that he couldn’t seem to push past.

“Order for me,” he said as he waved the question away. Making his way to the back of the room.

“Yeah, no problem. I guess I’ll pay for you too,” Justin said under his breath as Milo walked away, the barista giving Justin a disapproving look.

It didn’t seem possible that only one hundred fifty years had passed. He questioned if the way people calculated time had changed. As he took a seat in the back. The table, plastered with art, was covered in a clear resin. Telling a story of the people of the time. They were quick sketches, but there was still beauty in them.

The centerpiece was reminiscent of a candelabra. But made with copper pipes and gears and strange candles. Milo waved his hand over them, but no heat radiated from them. Only when he pinched the flame did he fully realize it too, was made of plastic. It was at that moment he realized he was alone.

Dropping it abruptly once Justin approached the table. “Is this meant to resemble fire?” Milo asked as Justin handed him his cup. Taking a sip, quickly realizing he disapproved of whatever he was given. Forcing himself to swallow what was in his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s fake, so it lasts longer and isn’t a fire hazard,” Justin answered. Picking it back up, Milo examined the fu candle once more. “What, have you never seen a fake candle before? They’re everywhere. How have you never seen one before?”

“I have been asleep since 1856. When we had proper fire. Not whatever this is.” As he said this, he snapped his fingers, a small flame danced between his tomb and index finger before fading away.

Justin shifted in his seat as a wave of different emotions came over him. Embarrassment, confusion, fright. Each bounced so fast that Milo couldn’t quite get a feel for what he was thinking. “Well, you see the battery,” Justin began, plucking the candle up and opening the bottom, revealing the power sure of the fake flame.

“Battery?” Milo had never heard it be called that, but the concept was easy enough to grasp. This had not been the first time seeing something that worked in this way.

“You see, it works with electricity. And the battery holds it, and when this switch is turned on, it makes the candle work.” Justin explained as if he was talking to a child.

“I know how it works,” Milo snapped. “I was just unfamiliar with the name. And to be honest, if I didn’t, your piss poor excuse for an explanation wouldn’t have helped.” In his frustration, he took another sip of the tea. Closing his eyes once he realized his mistake and gently set the cup back down. Resisting the urge to throw the glass across the room. He needed to kill something. “What a waste of space.” He mutters under his breath, trying to keep calm.

“Well, some people like the look of it.” Justin put the candle back.

Amy checked her phone as she power walked to Crazy Bean. A ping from Vicky appeared on her phone. Yeah, he’s still here. No idea who the guy is. Said he was family....?”

Amy couldn’t remember Justin saying anything about family being in town, or even that he had any living family that he knew about. And more importantly, why didn’t he just tell her? He should have known better. Has he thought she was that unreasonable that she wouldn’t understand?

Once she got to the coffee shop, she went straight to the back where Justin and this mysterious man sat. She wanted to cause a scene. But felt a calm come over her as she approached the two.

Instead of saying anything, she waited for Justin to turn around as she flung her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. She wanted to talk about what had happened the night before. But she pulled out a newspaper as she set down. “Did you hear about what happened two nights ago? Up at that abandoned factory? They said there was some kind of power outage and there was some kind of shock wave that affected people a mile out. Killing three and injuring another ten.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” Justin answered, taking her hand. “I know you don’t really care about the factory.

“What’s that?” Milo asked as he took the paper. Eye the headline as he skimmed the pages.

“I know, it’s stupid. But I enjoy having a physical newspaper. I know it’s better for the environment to just get the news from your phone. Less wasteful. But I don’t know. I just like it.”

Milo seemed to not give her any mind as she spoke. As she studied Milo’s face, she frowned. There was nothing in his face that made her believe that Justin and he had been related in any way. But she found it was hard to keep her eyes on the man. An uneasy feeling filled her. Finally, turning to Justin. “So, what happened last night?”

Justin didn’t answer at first. Instead, Milo had placed the newspaper down as he answered. “I apologize, my dear.” The discomfort she felt from looking at him was gone. That had been my fault. You see, there is this project I wanted Justin’s add-in. Do forgive him for my negligence. You see, I knew he had a prior engagement, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Deep down, something felt off. But not only did she find she wanted to accept the answer, but she wanted to apologize as well.

“That’s ok,” she said with a smile as she reached for Justin’s arm. “You can make it up to me tonight.”

“That will not do,” Milo interjected as she attempted to kiss Justin on the cheek. “You see. This minor project isn’t quite done. It will take some time, and in this early developmental stage. There will be little time for anything else. Give us a few weeks’ time and you can resume your courting.”

“And What exactly is it you’re doing?” Amy asked with folded arms. “And better yet, who are you…really. I have never heard of you before and you look nothing like Justin.” Her anger and distrust for this man spilled over.

At that, Milo leaped from his seat. For a second, Amy thought he may hit her. Instead, he reached down for his hat. “I suggest you don’t worry your little head over this. It will be best for everyone involved if you stay out of this.” A moment later, he was out the door. A shocked look on both Amy and Justin’s faces lingered for a few seconds.

Before she was about to get a word in, Justin leaned in to kiss her. “I’ll explain later.” And another second later, he too was gone.

[vieuxnoyesrp]

                           T H E  F O U R T H  S A C R I F I C E                                                                     BY @theoverlooked​ ft. Admin Awilix

Power. 

It was building in the air like a vicious wind only she could truly understand. The pressure within the building seemed magnified as though a great sea of water were pushing down around them, but it all came from the being before her. They lay slumped, unconscious in a chair; only the ropes she’d tied them with held the body up. Jennifer grabbed the man gently by the chin and tilted his head back, almost like a barber about to give a close shave and gently blew on their face.

The man’s eyes fluttered open, swift blinks clearing his vision to the sight of a woman with soulless eyes staring down at him, they seemed black and empty, almost like fish eyes, made all the more intense by the darkness surrounding them. He tried to scream but the gag around his mouth held fast, only muffled grunts came out. Jennifer smiled, the kind an adult would grace a child with when they were scared of monsters under the bed, she even patted his cheek slightly before turning away. The man renewed his struggles but the rope around his waist would not be broken. Jennifer returned, garotte wire in hand, and wasted no time; she easily wound the wire around the man despite his small, frantic movements and pulled it taunt.

The power built further, the winds greater, the pressure stronger, all this strength would be hers and hers alone. More power for her cause, greater magic to further the goals of the Salem Coven. A true sacrifice. As the movements of the strangling man began to weaken she knew it was time. Jennifer raised her second hand high, holding a small billy-club and brought it down, slamming it against the man’s skull.

And everything went black.

It wasn’t losing consciousness, more like going blind. She couldn’t see anything, but more disorienting was her inability to feel. She couldn’t sense the floor beneath her feet, or the club she held in her hand. But she could sense the magic. And magic that wasn’t hers or Rain’s was a threat. Her hand stilled, not that she’d actually felt the movement stop, and she took a moment to gain her bearings… Or lack thereof.

“Drop the club.”

A smirk.

“I don’t believe I take orders from you. Now how about putting down this little trick and letting me see the sneak who’s interrupting my work.”

“I asked you to drop the club.” The disembodied voice echoed strangely in the room which Jennifer knew to be too small for such reverberations. Another parlor trick, she would know, she’d used the same trick to lure in her first sacrifice.

“A little difficult to do when I can’t feel my hand now, isn’t it? Let down this little trick and I suppose I could listen.”  Instantly, her body was returned to her, her fingers tightening instinctively around the club in her fingers.

“No eyes? You are a shy little thing.” She chuckled, a hollow noise, empty of real humour. Her ‘guest’ was ruining her great work. It seemed two would die tonight, soon. Her fingers gently, almost delicately dropped the club. She felt the slight ‘bump’ of its solid weight hitting the ground and that was when she struck.

A gathering of power, like a bubble around herself and her dear victim, which promptly began to explode out. It would knock her little visitor for a spin, enough to cease the spell anyway.  But as soon as the concussive power of the spell broke free of her, it was frozen, only for a moment, and rather than fire out, it simply fell, like tiny flakes of snow harmlessly against the floor.  

Jennifer stilled, her raised hand clenched on instinct, loosened and promptly attempted to build the field again... But there was nothing. Her breath stilled—no, not nothing. The power was there, she felt it throb inside her being, yet that was where it stayed. Inside. Locked. Shackled. Her smug grin, her real grin dropped in shock, her power… her great power, three virgins sacrificed for the strength of her being and she’d been outmatched. How? It wasn’t possible!

Her eyes, still sightless, would show her captor, for that was who they were now, glimmers of something Jennifer Blake had only felt a handful of moments in her life: fear.

“Let. Me. Go.” The words didn’t shake, they were delivered by an expert actress, though her swiftly beating heart and slight tremble in her fingers cast against the image she hoped to portray.

“If you don’t, I am going to kill you, slowly, intimately and with pain at the forefront of the design.” A growl followed her last few words. “Now!”  

“I’m surprised she didn’t teach you more patience,” came the unruffled reply.

“She who? I’m afraid I’ve known lots of she’s.”

“Our dear mother.” And then her vision returned, and her assailant stood before her, a look of mild irritation on her face.

“Hello, Sister.”

Jennifer rose a brow, Sister. The word sent unhelpful tingles up her spine though she forced her widened eyes to dim, as though entirely unimpressed. Her voice followed suit.

“Forgive me, if this is supposed to be some grandiose reveal, you’ve overestimated your infamy, Sister. And your knowledge. Our dear ‘mother’ has yet to even grace me with her presence.”

“Lucky you.”

Rain was her mother, her sister.

Mary was a bitch.

And this one was something else entirely: a concern.

“You’re a smart girl, Jennifer Blake. Powerful. And yet you thrive on cruelty.” The woman stepped closer, head cocked, voice flat, without emotion. And cupped her cheek.

“And you’re boring.” she half-bluffed, “You think I do this to be cruel?” a laugh, once more hollow, “Please. If cruelty were my designs I’d have stuck to pulling the legs off spiders. No, I do this for greater reasons, necessary reasons.” Which this dear ‘Sister’ needed to understand, “Are you even aware of the perils our kind face right now… Sister?” The last word still a mockery.

“Perils that your cruel little games only exacerbate. Your reasons are as small and greedy as you are. You could’ve been better than this.” The ultimate insult, the words pitying, rather than spiteful. “I wonder if Mother would be proud or disappointed,” the woman murmured stepping away once more. “It was always so hard to tell with her.” At this point, the woman was murmuring to herself, the words little more than a whisper.

She took in a sharp breath, “Small? Greedy? You ignorant fool. The vampires seek to destroy us, to shackle us and imprison a very rite of life.” Magic saved her, the Cult of Bracken saved her, now she would save it, “My motives are glorious, a throw away Sister wouldn’t know that.” her words were spat like poison. This one must have failed, neither Rain nor Mary ever mentioned a fourth sister, it had always been the three of them. “Please, ‘Mother’ hasn’t been seen since Rain, I doubt she very much cares for anything anymore.” The woman had the gall to ignore her, Jennifer could barely hear the whisperings and instead tried once more to free her power. She would not be undone in the beginning stages of her plan by a stranger! Her chosen one took that moment to whimper and the woman turned back to look upon him; Jennifer felt the glorious freedom of her magic and with a sigh she dropped her raised arm. “Well, well. Seems I’m not the only one who could have been better.” With a vicious smile on the blonde witch she once more spat, “Sister.”

She flicked her fingers an almost careless gesture, and this time a much more concentrated manifestation of force sent the woman flying, smacking her against the walls. Jennifer bent down and snatched up the billy-club, and with a vicious cry she brought it down upon the sacrifice’s head—

But the other witch responded in kind Jennifer was sent across the room under the power of vicious winds, slamming into the wall and lying stunned at the impact.

The sacrifice was limp, yet the woman ran to him all the same. “Blod vende seg tilbake og huden møter huden. Blod vende seg tilbake og huden møter huden…” The blood that had puddled beneath the man began to disappear, retracing its path back inside, but still the man did not stir. The strange woman’s strange words grew frantic as she tripped over her tongue in desperation to heal what could not be healed. Pathetic.

The power would be hers, it had already begun to pool and… wait. No! The healing that woman was doing, it was futile but the blood… The blood held the power, and now-

“You’ve ruined it!” she screamed, “You stupid fool! He was to be a part of greatness and now he’s a waste of dead flesh!” Her anger built, she wanted to hurt her, to destroy this woman who’d ruined her designs yet… she recalled that tingle of fear as she’d been frozen, to attack recklessly… “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

The woman’s eyes could have turned her to stone for the disgust that filled them. “I’ve failed to save this man’s life.”

“And you ruined a perfect death.”

“If there is such a thing, it was not this.” The woman raised her hand, and the breath pooled out from Jennifer’s lungs just as the blood had seeped back into her failed sacrifice. She would not die at the hand of this abomination! But she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t summon her power, and that fear trickled down her spine once again.

“You’ve been warned, Sister,” was all the woman said, before Jennifer was once more gasping for air.

She took a few breaths, having fallen forward propping herself on her hands as her knees had buckled. But as her sense returned, so too did an important fact. The heaving breaths turned to chuckles, to full blown laughter as she pushed herself upper body up but remained kneeling.

“Y-you, pitiful, simpering waste of magic! No wonder I never heard of you, you can’t even kill properly! Weak.” she cackled, the noises lacking in true sanity, true feeling. The fear had existed yes, and it could and would again, but not this night. Not in the face of this kind of weakness.

Which, to the true eye, may not have been weakness at all.

“What says the fool?” she panted, her laughs still echoing through her frame.

No answer came.

Jennifer, at last calmed looked around, she was gone… Like a phantom that had never been within at all. And as her laughs petered out, the silence took over. No noise, no thrum of life, no thrum of magic… Empty. A waste.

Jennifer lulled in the void for… She couldn’t say how long, seconds, minutes. But she rose and didn’t spare the body a glance on her way out.

She’d thought it already, it seemed two would have to die tonight.

The next day a grim-faced news reporter told a shocked New Orleans that the body of two doctors were found in their homes, under what the police were calling ‘suspicious circumstances.’ The investigations were ongoing and anybody with information was urged to contact the authorities immediately.

[strangledeggs]

Compare And Contrast - Like The Corleones: Grimes vs. The Knife

It’s been several years since I’ve seen The Godfather. Perhaps it would have been worth re-watching it before delving into this thing, but I think my vague memory of it should suffice for the comparison I want to make here.

Before I properly begin, though, I’d like to point out what seems like the sheer unlikelihood of the comparison I’m about to make even existing; it’s an oddly specific shared reference point that two separate alt-electronic pop songs should build off intertwining themes of gender and The Godfather. Nevertheless, both Grimes’ “Kill V. Maim” and the Knife’s “One Hit” do indeed share improbably close subjects. Maybe Grimes was inspired by the earlier Knife song, seeing as it follows nearly a decade after? This is, however, besides the point.

The point being that despite “One Hit” and “Kill V. Maim” containing similar material on a surface level, they seem to take their actual philosophies of gender in very different directions. Both tackle a sort of “two-faced” masculinity, but the Knife aim for a kind of broader social critique of traditional patriarchal family structures, while Grimes reaches for what appears to be a more personal and anarchic approach to gender. As I distinguish between these approaches, I’d also like to draw attention to how the songs differ musically as well, and how this may be related to the lyrical content.

But for clarity’s sake, let’s start at the beginning and explore why the two songs may have chosen such similar reference points and why they may not be as similar as they first appear. Why The Godfather? Well, we should begin with a certain assumption, based on the public images and auxiliary projects of both Grimes and the Knife, that both are very much interested in art philosophy and film. Additionally, both being (or at least being fronted by) women, they’ve picked up on the gender disparity throughout art and film history. Often, feminist critique involves what the kids in critical theory call “hermeneutics of suspicion”, in which historical and “canonical” works are viewed with a critical eye towards the power structures that may have allowed them to be considered “great” in the first place. Seeing as The Godfather is directed by a man, concerns largely men and a kind of archetypal masculinity and is considered “one of the greatest films of all time”, it should come as no surprise that it’s a perfect target for both artists.

However, while both artists enact a kind of parody of the central men of the films, they go about it in very different ways. The Knife’s approach is subtle, as is the Godfather reference; you don’t think about the gangster-like attitude of the song’s central male character until you hear the line “Spending time with my family, / Like the Corleones” (more on that one later). Grimes, on the other hand, has explicitly stated in interviews that her song’s character is something a little more, er, outrageous...specifically something to do with a gender-shifting vampire version of Michael Corleone, like “The Godfather meets Twilight”.

From here, we may begin to see how each artist takes this theme down different paths. The Knife’s central character is a true “family man”, at least in the patriarchal sense. His is a story of violence told violently, as the opening verse declares, “It was headline news, / One more abuse, / I’ve got to tell it with a fist”. His power is exerted over the inhabitants of his domestic sphere, introduced in the second verse: the archetypal trophy/stay-at-home wife and the children. This verse also ends in the titular phrase, which comes to symbolize a key split in the man’s personality, that of “one hit, one kiss”. Here, we see an apparent duality that actually serves the same purpose: the man wants to be seen as powerful, but also loving, and his actions reinforce this. In the end, both become mechanisms by which he maintains power over his family; the promise of love brings them close while the threat of violence discourages them from leaving (”If you enter, you’ll stay”). This is the Knife’s parody of the archetypal masculine gangster, as is made suddenly explicit in the previously-mentioned line on “spending time with my family”. Just as the gangster’s family’s very structure contains violence, so does that of the character developed in the song.

The song goes on to explore to more parts of this masculinity which also merit some attention. The song’s third verse details a supposedly “not” pornographic scene, as it’s considered art, “if you do it with a twist”. This segment seems to further emphasize the elaborate guise this song’s character dresses his violent masculinity in, attempting to couch the institution that favours his sexual desires in the language of art. Finally, the last verse, perhaps the most chilling, has the man making apparent concessions as to further mask his absolute power: “For a reasonable salary, I will wash the world”; it’s meant in reference to housework at its most literal, but I hear something eerily fascistic in that phrase as well. He goes on to claim that this sharing of house duties is not only more equitable, it doesn’t demean him (which makes the listener question if this same would apply to his wife): “No need to mark my territory, / It’s all obvious to me”. For the Knife, this is “manhood’s bliss”: the power to quietly slip in and out of traditional roles and keep the face of the benevolent dictator, while remaining a supreme patriarchal ruler.

It should be noted that the music the Knife sets these lyrics to is remarkably well-suited to the themes. Probably the most interesting aspect of the song is that it has something of a vocal drag-performance of its own from singer Karin Dreijer Andersson (something that will probably come as little surprise to those already familiar with the group): for the duration of the song, her voice is pitched down to take on the approximate sound of a deep baritone. While this pitch/tone-of-voice technique could potentially have troubling gender essentialist ideals behind it, it’s Karin’s delivery that really makes it, as she takes on a sort of swaggering confidence atop the beat’s muscular shuffle that, combined with those lyrics, seems like it could only belong to a (as Hop Along might put it) “Powerful Man”.

While Grimes may share an initial character template in Corleone, and it’s probably interesting to note that the similarity is more than skin-deep: her fantasy version of the gangster also undergoes a kind of gender-bending, as she sings the song from his(?) first-person perspective and evokes some vaguely violent imagery from the very first line. However, the difference begins to reveal itself by way of a number of subtle signs; for one, Grimes doesn’t adopt the “vocal drag” that Karin favors. In fact, she seems to strive for a consciously more “hyperfeminine” voice in the song’s pre-chorus, imitating a sort of cheerleader-like chant and even shifting up the pitch of her voice, further exacerbating the gender-bending elements.

But pay close attention to the lyrics here, as they too signify an important shift that is mirrored in Grimes’ vocal delivery: the final lines of each verse refer to a kind of diminished power, claiming “I’m only a man, and I do what I can”. And the chorus is dripping with ironic defiance: from the spelling-out of “B-E-H-A-V-E” to the chipmunked refusal to do so, Grimes is rejecting something here with a distaste that could hardly be less clear. My guess? Though it’s unspoken, she seems to be rejecting the very strict gender roles that the Knife’s narrator seems so confident in. In fact, this makes the pre-chorus line “I’m only a man” even more ironic, as its supposedly male Corleone speaker is already gender-bending through Grimes’ vocalization, making him hardly “only a man”.

This is where I believe Grimes really begins to depart from The Knife’s vision of gender is a truly distinct way: her vision of gender transgression seems significantly more optimistic than “One Hit”’s. Whereas the narrator of the previous song saw this ability to move beyond his assigned gender role as a way to further exert his power without harming his “essential masculine nature”, Grimes appears to employ gender-defying actions as a way to deconstruct gender and free one’s self from the constraints of being purely masculine or feminine.

The music seems to match this instability; at first listen, it seems to have an almost simplistic “bubble-gum pop” production job with bouncy synth riffs and the works. The chorus, however, seems to take on an almost rock-like feel, with a real driving pulse behind it, making the genre of the song itself somewhat ambiguous. And obviously, as with The Knife, Grimes’ vocal delivery is crucial here too: the squeaky tone she uses in the verse jars with the exaggerated faux-cheerleader chant and chipmunk vocals of the chorus, which suddenly give way to outright screaming as the climax. It’s a masterful composition and performance, seeming to morph before your ears as its central character might before your eyes.

So who’s right, The Knife or Grimes? I don’t feel qualified to make such a grand judgement myself, but regardless of which conveys the better philosophical/political truth about gender, both are fascinating examples of the ways in which gender can be performed in pop music as a kind of critique in itself. At the very least, they are artistically formal marvels.