#also finally finding myself a rendering identity

[viveela]

They're finally doing Daisy justice who else cheered

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XXIII): Alien Babies, Shared Fears, and Hoped-For Escapes

Essence is chaotic and messy; but it also raises one or two intriguing points, as well as continues to establish Mulder's evolving dynamics with each character. It's a shoddy craft you have to cut around in order to refurbish; but it's salvageable-- at least, for this analysis.

Disclaimer: if you, like me, enjoy Season 8 up to a point-- and that point is midway through Essence-- I suggest you consider this post the end of the Alien Baby Baby Trauma series. Or at least skip over the next part when it's posted; and come back for the third and final addition. That way, Mulder and Scully run off into the night, together, and don't reappear until Existence's final five minutes.

Regardless, this part of the analysis marks the beginning of the end. There are a few loose threads the series strives to conclude-- or elucidate, for future (non-) exploration: namely, the mystery behind Per Manum's there-and-gone alien fertility clinic, the intrigue behind the hybrid alien replacements, and-- most importantly-- the mystery and happy ending for the Mulder-Scully family.

Now: let's tackle Mulder's slow descent into chaos.

ESSENCE AND EXISTENCE'S MAIN THEME

Mulder's monologue sets the tone for the finale two-parter:

"We call it the miracle of life. Conception: A union of perfect opposites-- essence transforming into existence-- an act without which mankind would not exist and humanity cease to exist. Or is this just nostalgia now? An act of biology commandeered by modern science and technology? Godlike, we extract, implant, inseminate... and we clone.

"But has our ingenuity rendered the miracle into a simple trick? In the artifice of replicating life can we become the creator? Then what of the soul? Can it, too, be replicated? Does it live in this matter we call DNA? Or is its placement the opposite of artifice, capable only by God.

"How did this child come to be? What set its heart beating? Is it the product of a union? Or the work of a divine hand? An answered prayer? A true miracle? Or is it a wonder of technology-- the intervention of other hands? What do I tell this child about to be born? What do I tell Scully? And what do I tell myself?"

The last three lines are the cornerstones of this finale two-parter: "What do I tell this child... what do I tell Scully... what do I tell myself?" And the order is important, too: Mulder knows this child will have questions-- how does he answer them? One layer deeper: he knows Scully harbors questions and doubts-- what can he say to her to assure them both? And at the center of these ponderings are his own fears and doubts: what does he believe, truly; and can he hold to that belief indefinitely.

The monologue is also a logorrheic oration of Mulder's struggle with his identity post-abduction: reborn to a life he'd at first assumed moved on without him, one with more questions than answers, still. And with these swirling questions looms his old skepticism with too-neatly tied bows on top of too-neatly provided miracles; and his new dominating PTSD. The triple combination is over-powering, and leads him to believe then question, believe then question throughout the latter end of Season 8-- and not just him, but Scully, too (as Essence's script notated, post here.)

If Essence through Existence had been well-written, it would've effected a succinct one-two-three masterstroke of Mulder and Scully's seven-year arc: finding the truth in themselves, turning "I want to believe" into "The truth we both know."

That aside, the monologue steers the remainder of Season 8: Mulder's mission, Scully's reactions, Mulder's and Scully's and Doggett's and Skinner's cumulative irrational actions. The problem, of course, comes down to execution.

THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP

We pick up from Mulder's perspective the day after Scully's baby shower. He arrives at Doggett's door on a Saturday, ignoring the charms of the man's porch trellis (post here) and NASCAR ritual to wheedle him onto an open investigation.

From his demeanor, Mulder appears more at ease, parrying Doggett's "Agent Mulder" with a muted, "You can drop the 'Agent', Agent Doggett. It's just plain Fox Mulder now." His voice is wistful when referring to his former status; but not disheartened, nor uneasy. He's made progress towards peace-- would probably be more at peace if he wasn't bearing bad tidings.

Doggett nods neutrally, figuring out how to navigate that landmine; and decides to face it head on, changing gears a little too familiarly with an inviting, "Right. You want to come in, Fox? I was just watching a race."

His guest accepts with a double entente. "That's what I was doing. Slightly different race, though." Walking in and switching the channel, he then hooks Doggett's interest with the suspicious, recent burning of a fertility clinic-- a link to Scully that Mulder doesn't spell out but anticipates the other agent will connect independently.

Doggett follows along, helping Mulder access the crime scene through his credentials and even skillfully avoiding a fight between on-site investigator Agent Crane. The patience for Mulder's antics begins to thin when nothing suspicious turns up; and he's about to call it quits when Agent Excommunicado-- who is having a good time with Agent Doggett in tow--

--uncovers a professional association between the deceased victim and Scully's former obstetrician, Dr. Parenti. Connection firmly established, both X-Files men sneak over to Parenti's clinic.

Mulder blatantly ignores proper procedure-- as usual-- but thoroughly enjoys roping Doggett in as an accomplice; and the latter rewards this inclusion by unquestioningly having Mulder's back.

During their snooping around, the two split up. Doggett finds the stash of preserved fetuses while Mulder comes face-to-face with an incensed, mid-procedure Dr. Parenti. Catching a glimpse of the vulnerable woman sitting just behind the doctor, Mulder's face changes, angry himself over what he suspects is diabolical predation.

The intruders leave after a fruitless altercation; and, back at the crime scene, Mulder overhears Agent Crane's remarks and triangulates a confrontation between the third man, himself, and Doggett. Why, you ask? Because the X-Files exists-- as he told Agent Doggett earlier-- to make people angry in its pursuit of the truth. This moment is a test, measuring his replacement's backbone against friendly but oppositional forces.

The entire scene of dialogue discusses unidentifiable biological material-- possibly alien in origin-- that neither files man shrinks from observing out loud; and Mulder, addressing Crane directly at the end of their exchange, knows that the FBI team is listening in. Doggett knows, too; and doesn't attempt to save face, either-- which is exactly what Mulder wanted to see.

The second trip to Parenti's is not as profitable-- their suspect is dead; and Billy Miles knocks Mulder through a glass wall, leaving him unconscious on the floor (and Doggett barricaded in another room.) Still, there are brief glimmers of success: (e.g. Mulder trusting his not-partner to simultaneously wander off and cover his back; and the substantial link between possible conspiratorial forces and Scully's pregnancy.)

OUR CONCERNS ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

Back at Scully's apartment, Mulder submits to his partner's doctoring until she touches a particularly tender patch. Gently, he snatches her wrist away-- "Oh, Scully"-- acknowledging her quiet "Sorry" with a slightly lessened grimace.

Mulder being Mulder, he spots an opportunity for a quip. "I see why you gave up a career in medicine--"

"Mulder," Scully interjects, smiling disapprovingly: knowing, already, where this is going. (Perhaps an old joke between them?)

"--for the FBI, Scully. You've got manos de piedra."

She does not let this mischaracterization slide, picking up a cotton swab and unexpectedly booping his nose before returning to her work.

Mulder brushes at boffed dignity, had.

"Sorry," Scully adds, referring to her earlier mistake.

Off of a brewing thought, her partner mulls, "Imagine if he'd connected."

"Who?"

"Billy Miles."

"Billy Miles?" she repeats, straightening her spine to engage eye contact. "He did this?"

And out it comes: Mulder and Doggett's misadventures, Doggett's corroboration-- to a point-- and Mulder's theory: " Well, Billy Miles is a whole new deal. He's an alien abductee who was returned after hideous procedures were performed on him. And who miraculously returns to so-called perfect health when his body completely sheds its skin."

Scully presses her lips together ever so slightly; and Doggett voices what she and he are thinking: "Same thing happened to you."

"Same thing would've happened to me," Mulder insists, bluntly setting the record straight, " if I'd been left alone." Locking eyes with his partner, he spells out, " If Scully hadn't treated me."

Mulder, then, is laying the credit of his recovery completely at Scully's feet: not a surprise, but a sweet touch.

Scully turns the page away from unpleasant thoughts, piping up with an insistent, "And what were you doing there?" When he doesn't answer right away, her eyebrows shoot up momentarily, and she adds, "Mulder?"

And it all comes out.

"Listen, Scully, I'm sorry, but I just need to know that this baby of yours is going to be all right."

"My baby is fine, Mulder. I've had it checked over and over again with my new doctor that I trust implicitly."

Lizzie Gill momentarily interrupts their discussions-- "She's just helping me out here at my mother's insistence", Scully excuses, hiding the fact she'd warmed to the idea herself.

And Mulder-- never failing to grasp an opportunity-- uses the brief interlude to his benefit. "That's... that's all I'm trying to do. Just make sure nothing happens to you; that this baby you're carrying is born without any surprises."

A few noteworthy details here: Scully, as previously remarked, is not as sure about "her baby" as she pretends. The script mentions that she is "overcompensating" here; and that correlates with Scully's own confession in Existence's conclusion: ("From the moment I became pregnant, I feared the truth... about how... and why. And I know that you feared it, too.") Even though she works hard to be impenetrable, to embrace this chance with open arms, Mulder sees right through it-- said plainly that he's already seen through it in his opening monologue. "What do I tell Scully?" is answered in Existence's conclusion-- "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both know"-- but that's after the dust has settled and the day has been saved. What can he say now? That is why Mulder is running around: to give his family answers-- answers the Mulders never had (post here), if one wishes to extrapolate his motives farther.

(Side note: Is this the best writing? No. Is it the worst writing? Not yet. Is it, in its current form, serviceable. Yes-- if the "your baby" and "my baby" would be dropped, it would zip along rather nicely.

Why doesn't "your baby" and "my baby" work? Because Mulder and Scully have gone weeks now referring to their child indirectly or not at all; and, though that in and of itself was a tease, it was a tease in line with both characters' minimal communication. "When he's old enough, tell the kid I went down swinging" and "You gotta worry about the little boy" are cleverer ways to hedge around the baby-- adding on "your" and "my" only confusingly detaches and depersonalizes its connection from Mulder, or Mulder's consideration of that connection.)

THE KNOT BEGINS TO TIGHTEN

Another tie to Parenti's clinic is murdered that night-- Per Manum's Duffy Haskell-- and his death draws Doggett and Skinner and Mulder to the scene of the crime.

Skinner, fed up with improper answers, pulls Mulder aside and questions him about the baby: "Some business we need to clear up. Personal business. About Scully's baby, about who the father is." Blowing over his former agent's quip about the FBI betting pool, he continues, "I've had my suspicions. That is, until I found out that you had questions. Questions about Scully's pregnancy itself."

Mulder warms to the A.D.'s candid, no-nonsense consideration; and confesses, "You want to know who the father is, that's Scully's business. But if you're asking me how a woman who was diagnosed as barren and unable to conceive is about to give birth in a couple days, that's an answer I can't honestly give."

It's a tricky game of disclosing only so much to minutely advance the plot; and, considering the writers' later tactics, one of the more sophisticated methods. Mulder is questioning where the baby came from-- at the present, whether it's even human. He does not trust Scully's scans because Parenti referenced them earlier; and he does not trust in convenient miracles-- never has, never will. And because he cannot explain these considerations with a clear conscience, he cannot answer his, Scully's, and now Skinner's questions.

Unappeased, the A.D. reaches for his phone, ready to worm clarification out of Scully for once. Mulder intercepts this attempt, politely; and Skinner lets him, cognizant that both agents know how to handle each other best.

Scully ditches the shower to answer the phone, dashing (as much as she's able) to catch it before the line goes dead. Mulder, hearing her irregular breathing, immediately pivots from his rote "Hey, Scully, it's me" to an alert "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she assures, "I just ran from the shower."

Mid-conversation, Scully realizes Lizzie Gill might be a spy; and the call cuts short when she catches the other woman swapping out the prenatal vitamins.

The scene changes to the hospital where she stands distraught-- barely holding onto her dignity until Dr. Speake walks over to reassure her. Mulder and Maggie wait in the hall until the doctor slips by; and he continues to stand guard as Mrs. Scully embraces her daughter comfortingly (and apologetically.)

Skinner joins Mulder in the hallway--

--and the latter follows him out to interrogate Lizzie Gill. (Though absent by necessity, his departure reinforces Scully's long-held worry that the X-Files will always dominate Mulder's attention-- a concern that will resolve itself in two scenes.)

The interrogation is conducted by Mulder, Doggett, and Skinner, who take turns grilling Lizzie on her involvement in the Parenti project. She is equally forthright with her answers, unabashedly laying out that her former boss and his associates were working under the orders of "government men"-- adjacent, then, to the Syndicate. And that part is important: Lizzie Gill's assignment was tangential to the Project's work on Emily Sim-- creating a child cloned from a human egg and alien DNA.

"Alien babies. Birthed by human mothers desperate to conceive. They didn't live more than a couple of days, but tissue and stem cells is what we were after for other experiments."

Mulder rubs his temples, disgusted by this revelation: and immediately launches into what is most important to him. "What did you do to Scully?"

When Lizzie's answer doesn't satisfy, he repeatedly yells, "What did you do to her! Tell me what's wrong with her! Tell me what's wrong with her baby!" It's not until Doggett intervenes with a gentle, "Listen to her-- what she's saying," that he calms long enough to hear the rest.

And, of course, the revelation is somehow worse than everyone assumed: "There's nothing wrong with her. That's what I'm trying to tell you. The child she is carrying is very special. One could only hope to create that in a lab. A perfect human child but with no human frailties."

This means one of two horrifying things:

The Parenti clinic did not create this child-- worse, they marvel at, and are invested in, its existence.

The baby-- normal or not-- is a wanted asset; and Scully a target by proxy.

This may act as confirmation that the child was most likely conceived by Scully under "human" conditions-- i.e. with Mulder's involvement-- but that merely allays one fear while breeding ten more. Scully previously had a child-- born-and-bred by the Project-- that she let go to protect. Now the Syndicate-- or their scattered allegiances--are restarting the cycle with this pregnancy. Her only hope is that this baby is not what anyone is expecting; and, luckily for Scully, that is what what the ending of Existence establishes (and the beginning of Nothing Important Happened Today throws away. But I digress.)

Mulder doesn't know what to do or who to turn to; so, he stands and runs back to Scully, ignoring Doggett's initial attempts to haphazardly trail behind.

THE GREAT ESCAPE

Arriving at his partner's apartment, he makes sure she's alone before insisting she start packing, immediately.

Scully, confused and frightened, becomes frustrated after he cryptically recounts, "No-- your, your baby is fine. It's you who's in danger now, Scully."

"From who? Mulder, from what?"

Part one of the truth reveals itself-- one that will guide his actions the rest of Essence and Existence: "I don't know, I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything. I just know I've got to get you out of here."

Mulder is not thinking rationally anymore-- he is out of answers or solutions, and is now relying solely on adrenaline-fueled gut instinct. This leads him to a multitude of questionable choices (as will be explored in the next post) that no one bothers to checkmate or pump the breaks on. He is in panic mode-- one that rears its ugly head whenever aliens or Conspiracy are mentioned post-Deadalive (i.e. tearing up over continued abductions, post here; beating a black-oiled worker nearly to death, post here; and currently jumping to alien baby conclusions and continued catastrophic thinking.) He desperately needs someone to reason with him; but, alas, no one will because the writing says so.

Fed up with the overreach of evil in her life-- having lost her sister and her health and her fertility to the monster of the Conspiracy; and having left the files without plans to return-- Scully snaps, incensed. A limit has been reached, and a line in the sand drawn. "Look, Mulder, look, I can't take this! I can't live like this—as, as the object of some unending X-File."

And part two of the truth reveals itself-- one that has grown and taken root in Mulder's life over the past eight years: "This isn't about the X-Files, Scully. It is only about you."

He expands this truth to include the little Scully-- "Now, you are going to have this baby and I'm going to do everything I can to protect it. I just can't do that here"-- and waits for his partner to process his promise and trust it.

After a long, assessing pause-- weighing Mulder's transparency against other (or any) alternatives-- Scully acquiesces, gliding away to hastily pack her things.

But as fast as she is, Billy Miles is faster. While Mulder is on the phone with Doggett, Billy arrives, cutting the power lines as he works his way up to Scully's apartment.

Both former agents freeze, taking in the sudden darkness; and realize their chance at escape is fleeting. They make it down the hall and out the stairs mere seconds before their pursuer arrives, fleeing into the night towards her car.

Mulder outstrips Scully's pace effortlessly; and she passes over the keys so he can jump behind the wheel and unlock her passenger side door-- both fluidly in time with each other's movements.

Having escaped, all is well; and both speed off into the night.

...Right?

CONCLUSION

The next part will tackle the egregious errors of Essence and Existence-- the bits that can be (I posit: should be) tossed into the garbage truck that crushed Billy Miles.

In the meantime, we bask in the bare minimum: story beats that aren't egregiously expositional, with moments that navigate previous characterization through formulaic, tension-building Chris Carter rhythms. It's not a clean break, overall; but it's not too sloppy, either.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[ktisishyperboreia]

finally got around to coloring this! i haven't used CSP in an age bc i find it very frustrating for doing sketches and lineart, but it's just so much better for coloring if i'm honest with myself

bonus:

i've also been experimenting more with underpainting, which may be hard to tell here bc i ended up color correcting this to get the mood i wanted (love a gradient map) but i think the non corrected version is still nice too!

it's a little softer and would probably print better if i Had to print it. also a bit more reddish.

in general i really like how doing an underpainting of the shadowy areas helps me establish a color identity for a piece quickly, and how it looks more visually engaging than my usual rendering style. Unlocked The Secret

[sumerianlanguage]

Hello! I was wondering if you had any advice for writing a song in Sumerian? I have been writing lyrics for a bit and I have always been interested in ancient languages so I wanted to know how I should get started. I have some ideas swirling around in my mind as the music I have been writing is very soulful.

Hello! What an interesting question - I haven't done any songwriting in Sumerian myself, but I have practiced by translating modern songs into Sumerian, which I think gives a little insight. On my twitch stream we once translated Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen - a song that is not written for easy translation, it turns out! But it taught me many things about the interaction between Sumerian phonology/grammar and lyrical composition.

One thing I've learned is that sentences in Sumerian often use fewer words but more syllables to convey the same information. "I'd trade my soul for a wish" is seven syllables, but it's nearly impossible to convey the same meaning in Sumerian in less than nine: Zinga ashta shu gabalan. So if you write music with a strict syllable plan, prepare to convey less information per line; or to convey the same amount of info, prepare to sing "faster" (i.e. cram more syllables into a line).

Another important issue is that Sumerian sentences always end with a verb. This makes rhyming a different experience than in English - rather than having two "impact nouns" rhyme at the end of the sentence, common in many music genres, you instead have to rhyme the verbs, and often the verb conjugations. (Here's a post about how this functions in Sumerian poetry - I've linked the in-tumblr version since the on-blog version seems to be rendering out of order, and will also reblog it after this post.) Creative liberty with concept structuring can help: "You took your time with the call / I took no time with the fall" is most easily translated by making call and fall function as verbs: Ullabi gu numaden / Annga ullabi shuben "You didn't call me quickly / But I fell quickly", still a slant rhyme but helped by the fact that the first and second person conjugations ("you called", "I fell") often look identical.

Note that we can't rhyme ullabi "quickly" with the second ullabi since they're adverbs and can't end the sentence or clause. Though in my translation of the chorus, I use namga "perhaps" as almost a final exclamation in order to pull it out of the sentence and slant-rhyme with annga "however": Uda muraten / tumidim, annga / shidngu murabban / gu hemaden, namga "I met you today / a wild act, however / I give my number to you. / Call out to me, perhaps!" (Another really useful word in translating pop music is gana "let's go!" or "yeah!", which is an interjection and thus can stand separate from any clause like this.)

And one final tip: Keep your sentences simple! This is both because of the verb-final structure - Sumerian sentences don't "trail off" in the same way they do in English - and because English loves to use helping verbs, weird time-clauses, etc. that you rarely find in Sumerian. One long, languid English sentence is often best matched by several shorter, choppier Sumerian sentences. It's really hard to convey the combo of time-sequence and counterfactual in the phrase "before you came into my life, I missed you so bad", unless you're willing to spend a whole verse of the song to do so, so I ended up just simplifying it to Zae namtila ekur / Ngae namurashen "You entered my life / I wished for you a lot".

I hope that's helpful! Do check out my Sumerian music tag for more, including examples of actual ancient Sumerian lyrics (not to say "Call Me Maybe" isn't timeless and eternal in its own right). And let me know if you have further questions or any translation I can help with!

[valorums-archived]

DURING THE CLONE WARS, Shi’al’s status as a LEADING ACTIVIST in the fight for the ABOLITION OF SLAVERY caused a fair amount of problems for Dooku’s SEPARATIST COUNCIL. Shi’al, from the FIRST BATTLE OF GEONOSIS onwards, becomes well-acquainted with surviving assassination attempts by the skin of her teeth. Her status as Chancellor Valorum’s daughter and Chancellor Palpatine’s goddaughter renders death threats an ordinary part of her day to day life; thus, this development hardly fazed her at all. The quest to capture Shi’al Valorum was a galaxy-wide game of cat and mouse which lasted for several months.

   IN 20 BBY, Shi’al accompanied ANAKIN SKYWALKER, AHSOKA TANO, and OBI-WAN KENOBI on their mission to infiltrate the ZYGERRIAN SLAVE TRADING EMPIRE. Her vast knowledge of enslaved peoples and their culture proved tantamount to the overall success of the mission; however, when her true identity as Shi’al Valorum is exposed and her alias fails, she is given to a bounty hunter who takes her to Count Dooku’s CASTLE SERENNO.

AT FIRST, Dooku is the BENEVOLENT HOST. He dons the façade of the kindly old gentleman who wants nothing but the best for the galaxy at large, simultaneously pretending to befriend his captive and shake the enormous faith that Shi’al has in the republic. If her pattern of thought can be properly rewired, he reasons, then she will be a valuable ally. Shi’al finds herself quite taken by Dooku and his lofty promises to bring PEACE and ORDER. He is like me, and I myself am like him, she realizes, We are idealists clinging to hope in a cruel galaxy. For the briefest terrible moment, the scales of victory nearly tip in the favor of the Separatists.

THEN, SHE REMEMBERS the ideals that she holds close within her heart, and snaps out of what she will later equate to a trancelike state. In a fit of fiery, volcanic fury, Shi’al unleashes her vicious tongue upon Dooku, tearing into him with fervor for his HYPOCRISY. Ranting and raging, she condemns him as a TRAITOR who betrayed everything that he once held dear — a former guardian of the oppressed too selfish to see that he is now the oppressor.

DOOKU LOSES HIS PATIENCE with this petulant child, and DARTH TYRANUS emerges from hiding. Through extensive TORTURE, Tyranus’s own fiery temper is unleashed upon Shi’al as retribution for her insolence. Shi’al, amongst experiencing the deprivation of certain necessary elements for human survival, endures FORCE LIGHTNING multiple times a day without any overall purpose present in Tyranus’s mind except to make her suffer. Any hint of Dooku‘s faux kindness had long since vanished.

TWO WEEKS PASS in total between Shi’al’s capture by the Sith and rescue by the Jedi Order. During that time frame, her life hangs in the balance. Shi’al teeters on the boundary between the world of the dead and the world of the living, and is found near death when she is finally brought home. Once she is safe and sound on Coruscant, she is ordered to seek out the JEDI TEMPLE’S HEALERS. The Jedi, concerned for her well-being because of her prolonged exposure to the dark side of the force, confine her to the temple’s medbay for two more weeks. Shi’al begins to experience regular NIGHTMARES regarding her capture; although she hides it well, she is no longer the same utterly carefree girl that she once was.

She acquired NEW SCARS from this encounter, both MENTAL and PHYSICAL. Alongside reoccurring nightmares and intrusive memories that haunt her in her waking hours, Shi’al also escapes captivity with physical scars. The healers are horrified to discover a web of scars shaped like lightning strikes snaking around the entirety of her back, serving as an ETERNAL REMINDER of her time spent as Count Dooku’s hostage. At first, these scars are a prominent INSECURITY for Shi’al, to the point that she does not return to ballet or opera for a month after being given a clean bill of health out of fear that she will be judged by the general public. In the end, she ultimately comes to view the scars as BADGES OF PRIDE and TESTAMENTS to the trials that she endured, and eventually returns to the stage.

Ultimately, DARTH SIDIOUS WAS TO BLAME. The Sith Master arranged his own goddaughter’s kidnapping and torture in order to BREAK HER SPIRIT, and render her more PLIABLE TO HIS MANIPULATIONS. Dooku was all too glad to join this game of chess because of the opportunity to silence a vociferous opponent of his Separatist movement. In the end, they are all pawns in Sidious’s game.

[perwian]

The queer loneliness as represented in All of us Strangers(has spoilers)

Allow me to introduce myself a bit

Queer loneliness is loneliness is a feeling many of us in the community experience. Without going too far, it’s something I’ve been dealing with quite recently. As a shy person, it has always been challenging for me to express myself to others. This, coupled with my lack of sociability with strangers and my reluctance to use dating apps, has rendered my love life rather dull.

Some might say, “Hey, you can be fine on your own!” But it’s not just about that. My parents are so conservative that I’ve had to come out of the closet not once, but twice, and yet they still ignore it and act homophobic in front of me.

‘All of us Strangers’ an Ode to Queer Love

‘All of Us Strangers’ was released a year ago, in 2023. I recently had the opportunity to watch it, and I felt so seen. So many issues I’ve faced were projected in the movie. From seemingly trivial (yet scarring) things like parental figures telling you to correct gestures (because in their view, it’s something attributed to queer people), to feeling like a stranger in your own family and gradually distancing yourself from it.

The film introduces us two main characters Adam and Harry, whose are neighbors in an empty building. Adam comes from a family he could never express himself to cause they passed away early in his life. When his family returns as ghosts, he gets a chance to finally reveal his sexual orientation to them. Through interactions with his deceased parents, he manages to heal from the wounds he sustained while growing up (bullying, fear of STDs) that made him feel he would always be alone.

Harry, on the other hand, comes from a family where he’s been “accepted,” although he says his parents just don’t talk about it and he stopped visiting them. He always felt like a stranger in his family, but when he came out, it felt like they had a reason to let him push himself away from the family. Then, while sharing this with Adam, he simply says, ‘It’s nobody’s fault at the end of the day.’ it reflects his acceptance of the situation. He recognizes that his family’s lack of understanding or acceptance isn’t necessarily due to malice, but perhaps due to their own limitations or lack of knowledge about queer identities. This acceptance, however, doesn’t lessen the pain of feeling estranged from his own family. It’s a complex mix of emotions that many in the queer community can relate to. Harry finds himself enveloped in a type of loneliness that yearns for companionship, for someone to share his thoughts and feelings with.

As Adam begins the process of untangling the complexities of his heart, he discovers within himself the capacity to love Harry. He allows Harry to step into his solitary world, to breach the walls around his heart. This newfound connection sparks a healing process, enabling Adam to gradually come to terms with the loss of his parents.

Conclusion

In conclusion, ‘All of Us Strangers’ is more than just a film; it’s a mirror reflecting the realities many queer individuals face. It’s a testament to the transformative power of acceptance and love in the face of loneliness and grief. The journeys of Adam and Harry serve as poignant reminders that while the path to self-discovery and acceptance may be fraught with challenges, it is also one that can lead to healing and growth. Their stories underscore the importance of open dialogue and understanding in bridging the gap between the queer community and society at large. As we navigate our own paths, may we, like Adam and Harry, find the courage to untangle our hearts and embrace our true selves.

[spinningbuster98]

And here we finally have our first Ashley escort section!

If you're expecting me to bitch...I won't!

She's nowhere near as bad as people make her out to be! Oh sure character-wise she's a cardboard cutout, this is one area where I will absolutely concede that the Remake did a far better job. But gameplay wise? Her AI is actually very responsive!

First off you can tell her to stay put at one spot, so if you know some place where you know enemies won't spawn you can put her there while you clear the area. This won't always be possible of course but even then, Ashley is smarter than she lets on

First off, every time you point a gun she will immediately either run behind Leon or duck out of the way, so if you accidentally kill her that's gonna be on you. Every other time she diligently follows you around with no issue. She can die very quickly, but you can replenish her health with your own healing items, even upgrade her max health like you can with Leon's

There are also only roughly 4 sections with her in total and, excluding this first one which lasts until the end of Chapter 3-1, every other only lasts about 20 minutes, so she's only gonna be present for about 30% of the whole game. Yeah she's kind of annoying, and the game doesn't really benefit from having her around, but she's by no means a deal breaker

And while we're at it let's delve into Resident Evil 4's gameplay itself shall we?

Now I'm not a big RE fan as a whole, but even I'm aware of the divide caused by this game for many, of how it essentially forever altered not only the series' identity but also horror as a whole.

No more fixed camera angles, no more pre rendered backgrounds, no more limited resources, no more non-linear design, no more having to carefully maneuver around enemies to avoid confrontation in order to save up on ammo and stuff. This game is very action focused, you're shooting stuff all the time, it drowns you in ammo, it's very linear, it's pretty much the opposite of classic RE in almost every way, leading to plenty of older fans to call this the game that essentially killed the series

...and I mean....they're not wrong? I know that these types of fans tend to get a bad rep in all kinds of fandoms, sometimes for good reasons as sometimes people can just be straight up dicks, but there's nothing inherently wrong with this general sentiment: you like a series due to a variety of elements which are unique to it. If those elements are gone you no longer enjoy it. Simple as that. Some cry "Oh but you just don't accept change!" but the truth is that one must first consider a specific change to be good before they can accept it

Despite this however...I can't fully agree with this sentiment myself, despite sympathising with it

It's often said that RE4 is not a horrot game, just an action game.

And it's true that this game is not a traditional Survival Horror game due to the aforementioned reasons. But I can't call thos just an action game because, even ignoring what I said about this game's very horror-like atmosphere, visual design and ost last time, there are a bunch of design elements that simply don't make much sense for a pure action game but do for a horror one

Yes this game revolutionized third person shooting in terms of precision and camera controls, not to mention that it features literal over the top melee attacks you can perform after stunning an enemy by shooting them in their weak points

But at the same time it also has old-school tank controls. They're snappier than in the classic games, but this still means you can't freely outmaneuver your enemies, creating tension that way

You also can't move while aiming, just like in the older games. You are pinned to the spot while trying to aim for enemy weak points, putting you in a vulnerable position if other enemies were to flank you in the meantime. While the aiming itself is precise, Leon's hands slightly tremble, forcing you to be careful, throwing you into a potential panic should you find yourself surrounded by enemies on all sides and you don't have the nerve to properly steady yourself. You are also completely immobile while reloading weapons. In the older games you could do this from the pause menu but here it HAS to be during gameplay and it may take a second or to, forcing you to be mindful of when and where you reload during a conflict. Weapons like the shotgun even have noticeable wind up after each shot which, again, anchors you to the spot for a second each time, putting you at risk of getting hit. Leon can die pretty easily here, a single hit can fell over half of your healthbar. You have healing items of course, but you nevertheless need to be careful

The over the shoulder camera may be criticized by older fans....but if you think about it it serves a very similar purpose to the old fixed camera angles: those obscured your view creating a sense of dread due to not knowing if you were gonna run into a zombie when passing the next camera angle.

While the over the shoulder camera is not as cinematic as the old one, people seem to forget that, unlike most other games inspired by RE4, you can't freely move this camera, only slightly pan it to the sides, otherwise you can only see what is strictly ahead of you. If you want to see what's behind you you have to turn around, which takes a second, a second that enemies may use to hit you during the animation. This is all 100% purposeful, as it creates very obvious blind spots for you that you have to be mindful of and that help create this overall sense of tension and paranoia

People say that RE4 is not scary, tense at most. I argue that fear is a very subjective thing that varies on the person. My first few playthroughs of RE4 gave me very similar feelings to my first times playing RE1-2-3. In those games I was afraid of all the zombies that I couldn't directly see because of the camera, with each encounter being tense due to tank controls and limited resources. In RE4 I was paranoid that at any second the game might spring yet another trap at me and flood a room with enemies, enemies that I couldn't always keep track of as they'd often surround me, coming from my blindspots, each encounter being tense because of needing to stop for a few seconds in the middle of a fight to take aim and fire, which is a risk because enemies can and will try to attack you from all directions as you're doing this.

Now of course nowadays RE4 is mostly no longer scary to me. But that's mostly because I've played this game about 20 times and I've grown accustomed to all of its tricks. Similarily Nemesis in OG RE3 was scary the first few times, but now I know how to take him on, that's normal. The only RE games that keep being scary to me even now are the OG RE1 and its Remake, mostly due to the whole haunted Mansion setup being inherently creepier to me and because they're far harder games than the rest I think

Perhaps no other section in the game makes any of this clearer than the dreaded Cabin Section at the end of this Chapter

Leon and Luis (Ashley thankfully locks herself in a closet so you don't have to worry about her for once) against an infinite horde of Ganados as they storm the tiny cabin, coming from all sides. There's barely any space to maneuver yourself, they keep coming without stopping, your ammo dwindles little by little. You will panic, you won't know exactly what to do, you'll screw up as you're being mercilessly overwhelmed from all sides, you'll dread ever having to redo this part....yet I can't absolutely say it's badly designed. They will only give up after a while, after which you'll finally breathe a sigh of relief as the danger is finally over...for now

Peak Resident Evil 4

Also Luis does this if you shoot him too many times

[kdheaven]

reblogging with some explanations since i'll take the slightest opportunity to ramble about this stuff (thanks @youhavetosmile!)

i could go on and on, on and on (and i will)...

Fearless: Untouchable This song captures that Season 1 and early Season 2 time period so well, when Matt and Karen are obviously attracted to each other and even flirting, but aren't ready or confident enough to pursue a romantic relationship yet. It's funny to pick a song called "Untouchable" when they took so many opportunities to touch each other, but I think they both perceive the other in an idealized crush way that could make them seem untouchable. "And when you're close, I feel like coming undone" works on two levels for me, both a desire for physical connection and also the way they are able to find solace in each other and let their guards down (their hugs in Season 1 and 2 come to mind). "Little taste of heaven," indeed.

Speak Now: Sparks Fly This one speaks for itself! "You're the kind of reckless that should send me running, but I kinda know that I won't get far" and "Meet me in the pouring rain / Kiss me on the sidewalk / Take away the pain" etc.

Red: The Last Time "I find myself at your door, just like all those times before" - This always makes me think of Matt showing up at Karen's office door in The Defenders, and at her window in 3x06 The Devil You Know, and even when he opens the Nelson & Murdock door to tell her he's Daredevil. He wears his "best apology" by finally telling her the truth, but she always has to grapple with his actions. But "All the times I let you in / Just for you to go again / Disappear when you come back / Everything is better" - While it's been hard, Karen ultimately wants Matt in her life, and the end of Season 3 promised better for them.

1989: This Love This is another one where I feel like the lyrics say it all: “This love is good / This love is bad / This love is alive, back from the dead / These hands had to let it go free / And this love came back to me” A very simple rendering of Karen’s POV over the seasons, I think. The bridge is very fitting too!

Reputation: Don't Blame Me I enjoy the overall vibe of this song for them, considering how intense they both are, especially when it comes to protecting each other. But the “For you, I would…” sections really seal the deal for me. 

“For you, I would cross the line / I would waste my time / I would lose my mind / They say, ‘She's gone too far this time’" - Karen! This brings to mind her killing Wesley when he threatened her loved ones, including Matt; when she spent her time taking care of Matt’s apartment and bills when he was supposed to be dead; and especially when she told Fisk that Matt wasn’t the one he should be worried about when she was trying to get him to attack her.

"For you, I would fall from grace / Just to touch your face / If you walk away / I'd beg you on my knees to stay" - Matt! I'm getting Matt falling from Karen's apartment window in the first episode, him touching her face as Daredevil in Season 2, "I'm not yours to protect" followed by Matt finally revealing his identity and holding her hand over his heart. Case closed!

Lover: Daylight This song means so much to me, and it fits so well with the symbolism of the show, and the way we see Matt and Karen in the golden daylight together at the end of both Season 1 and Season 3. From the first verse, "There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven / I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye" is a perfect encapsulation of Karen talking to Matt in the crypt in 3x11 Reunion. Both of them have had extended "dark nights" in their lives, but together they can walk into the daylight like they do at the end of Father Lantom's funeral in the last episode. (Also, um: Elektra could be interpreted as "burning red" and Frank as "black and white" if we're going by their color associations on the show. Matt and Karen also have red associations, obviously, but they also have lots of yellow/gold.)

Folklore: Peace Oh god this song. It's one of my favorites for Matt and Karen throughout all of Taylor's discography, because I think it captures the anxiety that both of them feel about whether what they have to offer another person is enough. Especially because both of them are reckless and compelled to take action, and won't have quiet, peaceful lives any time soon. The first verse screams Matt to me: "I never had the courage of my convictions, as long as danger is near / And it's just around the corner, darling, cause it lives in me" - Matt is a lawyer (and a Catholic), but when there's danger, he can't just trust those convictions, he takes the law into his own hands. And that compulsion is a part of him that he can't give up. The chorus works equally well from both of their perspectives ("the devil's in the details" is almost TOO on the nose). In the second verse, I feel so much imagery from the show packed in (the coffin scene for "sit with you in the trenches" always stands out for me). And I can't hear the line "Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother" without Foggy's face in my head.

Evermore: Evermore This is such a post-Defenders song to me. Feeling like the pain will last forever, but eventually finding hope again with the help of someone close to you. "And when I was shipwrecked / I thought of you / In the cracks of light / I dreamed of you / It was real enough / To get me through / But I swear, you were there" - I think of both Matt and Karen in the first episode of Season 3 and everything they were going through at the time, and how they had to use the thought of each other to get through it.

Midnights: The Great War For me, The Great War works as both a metaphor for Matt and Karen's ongoing fight against Fisk, as well as their struggle with miscommunication and misunderstandings throughout their relationship. I see a lot of scenes from Season 3 in my head when I listen to the lyrics — most strikingly, the moment when Matt reaches back for Karen's hand during the attack at the Bulletin with the lines "My hand was the one you reached for / All throughout the Great War." To me, the song fits well with Karen's journey in Season 3 as she comes to understand that Matt has abandonment trauma and she’s wrong in thinking that his actions meant he doesn’t love her. Once she finally understands that, and the two of them are completely open with each other, they're ready to move forward and heal. They defeated Fisk, and they survived the Great War.

TTPD: My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys I'm not happy to claim this song as the most Karedevil on TTPD lmao, but I can't deny it. For me, it fits very well with the progression from sweetness to pain that was Matt and Karen's relationship in Season 2. Karen was the "queen" of Nelson & Murdock, working so hard to keep the firm afloat, but it was a "sandcastle" that Matt destroyed. The most standout imagery for me is picturing their makeout scene on Karen's front steps to the lyrics: "Cause I knew too much, there was danger in the heat of my touch." Karen was too close to the truth for Matt to be able to go upstairs that night and still keep his secret. And "Stole my tortured heart / Left all these broken parts / Told me I'm better off / But I'm not" describes late Season 2 Karen perfectly to me, especially the diner scene where she tells Frank that Matt breaks people.

most karedevil song on each taylor album* (try to choose just one!!)

my nominees are...

Fearless: Untouchable Speak Now: Sparks Fly Red: The Last Time 1989: This Love Reputation: Don’t Blame Me Lover: Daylight Folklore: Peace Evermore: Evermore Midnights: The Great War TTPD: My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (sadly)

@youhavetosmile @karedeviltrash - tagging you because i'd love to see your answers if you want to play! and tag anyone else if you want!

*i didn't include debut bc i don't know it well enough

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Hello

I am here to rant and lose my mind because of Park Jimin for a while and I want to know if I'm the only one feeling this....There are people who are extremely quiet since Tailor of chaos dropped....no comment,no acknowledgement at all....I can't help but keep on wondering if people are intimidated by Jimin....I know I'm not the only who connects with what Jimin is saying 🌈🌈🌈People in this fandom are full of internalized homophobia, fetishizers,ignorant people.....and I just...chapter two is definitely different....it's like to me...at this point....I prefer quality over quantity Army....the more people join...th more it gets stained and nasty and people aren't even trying to understand the people they claim to love....I see people are uncomfortable....I am talking about this from how I've seen my country's fan base reactions....it's just....they are mostly tiktok Army's ,y/n and fetisherzers...and as much as they like to pretend they are okay with everything that represents lgbtq....they cower away and build walls not wanting to understand Jimin's concept....

To be honest....I haven't been okay since the glove hand dropped,and connecting the dots of his process......and this just....I was so elated and anticipating his photofolio to drop but I wasn't ready for that....the thought provoking concept....challenging you...the watcher...jsjskqkskskskiss.....HIS MIND....HIS FREAKING GENIUS MIND 😭😭😭😭😭THE DETAILS..KDKSKAKKSKWKQQK.....I AM JUST A MERE INSIGNIFICANT HUMAN BUT HE HAS ME ON TRANCE LIKE EXPERIENCE....HE'S RENDERED ME SPEECHLESS, HIS LEFT ME STUNNED,AND WRECKED AND RAVAGED AND CONSUMED.....I CANT LOOK AWAY....I can't stop wanting for more and more and just get lost in him😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I wanna hear your thoughts on this.....from a queer lense🌙💛EVERYBODY IN EARTH SHOULD BOW DOWN AT HIS FEET‼️

Anon 2

I am getting more and more intrigued by Jimin's photobook and I might have to try to buy it, lol. The way the photobook is described:

"This photobook created based on Jimin’s own ideas, unveils different moods Jimin creates from the same costumes, the strength Jimin has discovered in himself, the meaning of light in his confusing consciousness, the moment Jimin’s inner self and persona finally met and his chaotic and finally, an immature journey to finding the true “me”."

And the "Jimin’s never-seen inner self visualized in four topics – black, light and darkness, white, color : freedom."

The color:freedom is... I just have more and more questions at this point. He really makes you want to know everything. (And as being part of the lgbt myself, I can't help but draw theories I probably shouldn't, I'm projecting, I know, but it is still very interesting the way Jimin talks about his inner journey. He hasn't shown much, but what he has, has been quite relatable.)

The level of enthusiasm, intrigue, confusion is through the roof here, so I decided to answer both of you in one post because you're touching on the same subject.

First anon, I had no idea that some parts of this fandom are more silent about Jimin's photo-folio. It doesn't reflect the reception I saw, but I guess it all depends on what we follow and what shows up in everyone's curated timeline. Either way, I think that overall, the release of the teasers was a success and had quite an impact, at least for those who are open for appreciation.

As to the second ask, I think that looking at a photoshoot and the message that is trying to convey, along with the photo-folio description, it is bound to be interpreted through whatever lens the audience sees fit. This is a concept focused entirely on identity and how Jimin wants to be perceived. So, in this case, it was made quite clear that the art is a reflection of the artist. That much we know because Jimin said so. But as with all art, and here we have photography, the meaning is also created through interpretation. At least that's my approach and one that I've talked about in the past in various occasions. And if you, second anon, can relate to it in connection to your identity and Jimin's own inner journey, then that's one legitimate way of looking at it. I'm also not denying that projecting is definitely a thing and let's say, it can be detrimental in some cases, especially when it takes away the possibility of that piece being either about something else, or it conveys a multitude of meanings and it's much more complex. But as long as we, the audience, keep that in mind, I see no harm. The message might as well be just that, especially if there are recognizable elements that can be interpreted through a queer lens.

We also need to keep in mind that no artist needs to be completely straightforward when it comes to the methods used when they want to express something. A work based on one's identity can take many shapes and forms and the message doesn't need to be spoon fed or served on a silver platter because the only way everyone will get it is if they're hit in the head with it. Some will have no issue with accepting something that at the end of the day, will remain open to interpretation and not see that as a bad thing and others will not. The best approach is to listen and observe what Jimin has to say and I believe that adding this recent photo-folio into a larger context and everything else Jimin did in connection to art, identity and his own words about his journey, should be sufficient.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Podoboo

Debut: Super Mario Bros.

Before I start this post, I’d like to clear something up. Podoboo? Yes, Podoboo! I’m well aware these enemies are often called Lava Bubbles and that’s the name Nintendo has been trying to make standardised these days, but you know what? You can’t make me! Podoboo is a lot cuter, plus its the name I grew up with and changes in society scare me and cause me to lash out! Maybe Lava Bubble is closer to the Japanese name of just “Bubble”, but since when has that been a factor in any of the localised names? Do you really want to refer as Lakitu as “Jugemu”, huh? I’ll have you know one of my civil rights as a citizen of Wet Dry World is to refer to Mario enemies with whichever official name I please. Like it or leave it!

So this is a post about Podoboo. Do you like Podoboo? I certainly Podo-do! They are perhaps the most generic design you could give to a Mario enemy, a visibly Dangerous Thing with two eyes, but they have always charmed me! It’s the little things, like their distinct shape and the fact their pupils are somewhat wider than most obstacles like this. They bring me comfort in dire times. No matter what happens, I know Podoboo will be there, jumping at a set height in a particular spot of lava! Without them I would be nothing! 

So simple is their design, isn’t it weird to think they started off as even simpler? The Podoboos in the first SMB game are completely blind, and with no eyes they may as well not be creatures at all! Of course, I’m very glad they are creatures, and their iconic behaviour was there from the start! They love to jump, of course! There is nothing they would rather be doing!

Awaken! As of Super Mario World, they have been gifted sight and are no longer blind to the sins of this world! Hurray! What do you think they see as they jump up and down? I’m surprised it doesn’t make them dizzy!

You’ll be glad to hear Podoboos have had an expansive career ever since, now with their new trademark eyes! After all, they are THE lava enemy! Anywhere you’ve got that tasty hot fire juice, these guys are soon to follow! Here they are in Super Mario RPG, called Sparkies here because they couldn’t make up their minds on a localized name and probably because they confused them with Li’l Sparkies. In Yoshi’s Story they even called them Spark Spooks! Geez, I’ll even take the name Lava Bubble over this! But doesn’t this render look nice and juicy?

Though any great career has its flops, and I have to say... I am usually the first to campaign for the unique designs from the first three Paper Marios, but I do not really like this Lava Bubble! This takes away from their distinct Mario-y charm and makes them look like a Fire Enemy you could find in any other game! Though in the RPGs they are able to float around without needing any lava, the ones in Super Paper Mario act just like the platformer ones, jumping around despite not looking like they should be doing that! Ok!

The Podoboo from New Super Mario Bros. DS just wasn’t trying very hard at all. Come on! They could’ve it a bit more justice than this! 

Ah, there we go! The Podoboos in New Super Mario Bros. Wii decided to finally stop messing about and go back to what everyone loved from them in Super Mario World. I encourage experimenting with your identity, of course, but it’s good to be back, and now they are more mortal than ever! A single shot from an Ice Flower is enough to instantly vaporize a Podoboo in a puff of smoke, which is a bit scary! Are they really just pure fireballs that can be put out just like that? What a frightening life to live!

And in Super Mario Galaxy 2, they... hey, wait!! You took away their eyes again! Now you are just being inconsiderate. This outraged me as a kid! One of my most vivid memories of playing this game with my brother involved chanting “Podoboo rights! They deserve eyes!” because this upset me so much. Maybe my past as an activist is why I am so passionate about Mario enemies these days... I think I was 100 percent correct in hindsight, and now you know some of my backstory, too!

What relief it gave me to find out they were back to their usual selves in 3D Land! And they have been ever since, of course getting redesigned for the modern Paper Mario games and everything. 

What’s this? Blue Podoboos! Podo-blues, even...! They show up in 3D World, in its incredibly cool-looking blue lava levels! It’s a well known fact that blue fire is objectively cooler than red fire, and it seems even the Podoboos wanted in on the action! Blue Lava is an actual phenomenon I’ve just learnt, though it’s a sulfuric fire rather than lava. Could it be that Podoboos, being made entirely of lava, adapt to their environment? I’m not sure...

As an aside, the blue Lava Bubbles aren’t to be confused with Lava Bubble (Blue), which are from Mario Galaxy and show up during King Kaliente’s fight! They hop around on the ground and have square-ish eyes, which is enough to make them different I guess!

The Podoboo’s next big appearance, in Super Mario Odyssey, was in Soup! Yes you heard me- Soup! Some delightfully pepto-bismol pink coloured soup, no less. This is why I wasn’t too sure about Podoboo’s being able to adapt to their environment earlier- the Luncheon Kingdom is a big soup volcano after all, but the fact these Lava Bubbles are able to live in it is very interesting!

There is simply no way I would talk about Odyssey here without talking about possibly its greatest achievement, the best game design decision ever made! After decades of begging from fans, they finally did the impossible- they made Podoboo playable! Now it is Podo-you! It is quite unlike the other captures in the game, since it keeps the Podoboo’s simple-looking eyes and simply adds onto it a nose and a mustache! You may very well be the world’s first Podoboo with a sense of smell! I wonder if that is a benefit or not. The constant smell of soup might be a bit overpowering. 

Not only is this delightful, but it gives us more insight into the life of the humble Podoboo. First of all is the fact that they can swim around in lava, not just jump in one spot! Do you think they do this when we aren’t looking? I really hope so! Imagine a school of Podoboos swimming through molten lava in a castle’s moat. How delightful! 

The Luncheon Kingdom is also home to a number of Lava cannons, marked with a Podoboo’s lovely face. These are cannons for only for Podoboos to launch themselves across the kingdom, from one body of lava to another! My question is whether this was technology made by Podoboos themselves or whether it was made by some generous Podoboo lovers as some lava equivalent to the Fish Tube. I think I would take either explanation! 

And last I have a Podoboo appearance that even I, the world’s biggest Podoboo fan, didn’t know about! Paper Mario Color Splash has a Big Lava Bubble boss which speaks with you through a Shy Guy translator! It is quite upset that you barged into its volcano and decided to change the temperature. Mario, of course, kills it anyway, and also the Shy Guy translator without a second thought.

Still, just take a look at this sprite sheet! How cute! A little disappointing that they thinned out the eyes, but wow! They more than make up for it with this range of expressions! An angry Podoboo! A sad Podoboo! And my personal favorite is of course the shocked Podoboo with its assymetrical dot eyes, which might be one of the best things I’ve ever seen. 

To be honest, I could talk about Podoboo forever! If you didn’t stop me, I would go on all day about their every appearance, but I kind of had to limit myself to some of the most relevant ones. I just think they’re neat! And cute! And silly! Besides, I’m Mod F Boy, so I’m basically obliged to talk about fireballs with eyes! But for now I must bid you Pod-adieu! 

...Not! What, did you really believe me? Well you clicked the Keep Reading button, so you only have yourself to blame for this. Here I am talking about more Lava Bubbles from all over, because Lava Bubble’s career has taken it BEYOND the Mario series! Wow!

Podoboo’s had quite a few appearance in the Zelda series, appearing in Link’s Awakening, both the Oracle games, and even Cadence of Hyrule! Their Zelda wiki page is still called Podoboo instead of Lava Bubble, which means those Zelda fans have it better than we do. But wow, this is a pretty angry looking Podoboo! I wouldn’t mess with them! 

Both the Oracle games even had a Podoboo Tower! Amazing! They look quite a lot like a Fire Snake, but they are simply a tower of Podoboos! Why don’t they do this more often?

Hm... The Cadence of Hyrule one doesn’t have any eyes. Come on guys! It’s 2019! Podoboos having eyes should be standard! Though they still made the conscious decision to call them “Podoboos” in 2019, so I can’t be too mad. 

And they have even spread to Minecraft! In the Mario Mash-up Pack, they replace the Magma Cube enemies, and really there was no better choice for this. And now we have a Podoboo Cube! What more could possibly be left for Podoboo?

The answer is obvious- Podoboo in real life! Thanks to a certain Lego Mario set, Podoboo is now real and can be in your home for the small price of 19,99 US dollars. Please give a Podoboo a home today! Just make sure you don’t own anything flammable. 

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[spockshocked]

On “This Side of Paradise”

Watching the original Star Trek many decades after it aired, I cannot help but feel as though the conclusions I draw from certain lines, scenes, and even entire episodes must not be exactly as initially intended. Despite the caginess, both in canon and in external commentary, that Roddenberry and others employ in their discussions of the nature of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock’s relationship, and the subtext often burgeoning on text especially to a gay viewer, Spock’s perceived gayness extends beyond his ambiguous relationship with his Captain. Many of the cues that might cause a gay viewer to feel reflected by Spock come via the quirks of his Vulcan nature.

One episode which deals particularly with Spock’s internal conflict vis a vis his mixed heritage is “This Side of Paradise,” the 24th episode of the first season. Spock falls under the influence of alien spores that cause him to break down in what appears to be immense pain, before he confesses his love to a woman named Leila Kalomi, whose love for him had been unrequited for six years. Spock spends the majority of the episode under the influence of these spores, canoodling with Kalomi and giggling while hanging from a tree branch, until Kirk roughly snaps him out of it and the stoic science officer returns to himself. The spores appear to render their hosts relaxed, blissful, and dazed, an effect which can be undone through displays of strong negative emotion.

The most striking result of his time spent under the influence is the melancholy that seems to overtake him once the effect is broken. Once he has his bearings and realizes that Kirk has intentionally riled him so that the spores lose their hold, the first thing he says is:

SPOCK: The spores. They're gone. I don't belong anymore.

In the context of the episode, “belonging” is the eerie, almost cult-like description for one under the influence of the spores. Taken at face value, Spock’s comment is merely an observation that he is no longer being affected by them; Spock often makes somewhat banal comments seemingly for the benefit of the audience’s comprehension. However, this one seems to carry a double meaning. Consider Spock’s heritage: half-human and half-Vulcan, Spock constantly finds himself torn between two clashing cultures, truly “belonging” to neither. A substance that enables his full emotionality, effectively tipping the delicately balanced scales of his identity, provides a sort of relief. With the negation of its effects comes a return to the inner turmoil he experiences every moment of every day.

Spock felt like he belonged when he was able to feel and express romantic love for a woman. A simple reading of this might be that the ability to process emotion gave Spock a sense of belonging, but there is once again another, deeper analysis to be made. The assumption that gay couples would likely be commonplace by the 23rd century aside, the fact remains that the show was produced in the 1960s and there are no canon gay couples to be found. Therefore, it is possible to work within a metric where one might have a reason to remain closeted. If we approach Spock as a closeted gay man, then the female object of his affections becomes a key element in his feeling of “belonging.”

In typical Star Trek fashion, the exact effect produced by the spores is never elucidated. The implication seems to be that it provides some lowering of inhibitions and propensity for leisure. However, the spores could also be seen as pushing their hosts to pursue their ideal lives. Doctor McCoy gets notably more Southern, his accent thickening as he walks around singing the praises of the mint julep. It seems as though, while under the influence, he pursues things that remind him of the comforts of home. 

Spock, however, has no such comforts. Instead, he becomes something he could never be: able to reciprocate the feelings of a beautiful young woman who has pined after him for years. Once the effect of the spores is broken, he must then break the news to her:

LEILA: I love you. I said that six years ago, and I can't seem to stop repeating myself. On Earth, you couldn't give anything of yourself. You couldn't even put your arms around me. We couldn't have anything together there. We couldn't have anything together anyplace else. We're happy here. [crying] I can't lose you now, Mister Spock. I can't.

SPOCK: I have a responsibility to this ship, to that man on the Bridge. I am what I am, Leila, and if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else's.

Spock’s response is cool, as we have come to expect from him, but notably more candid that most of his observations about his own experiences. He starts by claiming a responsibility to not only the Enterprise, but to Kirk himself. This could be a simple declaration of loyalty to his captain, as it would almost certainly appear to Kalomi, or an allusion to some repressed feelings that would only register to him. His next line, however, carries some serious weight. “I am what I am” refers to his Vulcan heritage, but as is often the case, it could also easily be in reference to his own homosexuality. Either way, he is explaining why he is incapable of loving Kalomi; the difference is whether he is incapable of love at all, or of love for a woman. His “self-made purgatory” is both his entrapment between his Vulcan and human halves, and his repression of his sexuality. 

Spock rarely speaks about his mixed heritage and the internal conflict it causes him, just as he rarely speaks of his own emotions at all, but it takes its toll on him. Briefly finding relief from this conflict only makes the return to it that much more difficult, causing him to be even more terse than usual. Kirk even points out that Spock has been quiet about the experience:

KIRK: We haven't heard much from you about Omicron Ceti III, Mr. Spock.

SPOCK: I have little to say about it, Captain, except that for the first time in my life I was happy.

Spock has spent his entire life trying and failing to completely repress his human emotions in an attempt to become fully Vulcan. When he finally has the chance to experience them in full, he breaks down in pain at the wave of repressed emotions before he finally experiences untainted joy “for the first time.” However, that is not his authentic self either. Neither a logical Vulcan nor an emotional human, he is eternally trapped between worlds, and was only able to find joy in a brief and unattainable fantasy. He is so discontent with his own nature that he cannot be happy as he is.

To a closeted viewer, this final line of the episode, delivered as dryly as always, is heartbreaking. The first time in Spock’s life that he was happy was when he ignored an integral part of himself that brought him pain in order to live a moment of a life that he could never have. To those who have repressed their sexuality, convincing themselves that they felt attraction to those of another sex because it was what would make them belong, watching Spock find joy in this fantasy only to be crushed when he must return to reality is painfully familiar. 

Analysis of Spock and Kirk’s relationship is generally sufficient to read them as a gay couple. When Spock is viewed in isolation, however, he still comes across as gay to many viewers. Spock’s innate perceived gayness relies not on his attraction to men, but on his repression of his true self and of the emotions that he cannot bring himself to face. While chalked up by the show to his half-Vulcan heritage, it still strikes a chord in a very human gay viewer. 

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Day 123 (boy I hope I'm not repeating numbers or accidentally skipping days or anything), and thanks to @lithiel I designed my own personal Keyblade!

I've been trying to get down a design idea for it for years, but something just clicked while we were talking about Keyblades for art related reasons today, and I finally finally finally hit on a design that works! Details below the cut; much like my username there's a lot more going into it than first meets the eye :D

There were a handful of main things that I wanted to incorporate, because to they represent large aspects of how I see myself:

My Eastern Zodiac, year of the dragon

My Western Zodiac, Pisces the twin fish

Shiva and her ice

Phoenix and her fire

My birthstone, amethyst

My sexuality, ace

My gender identity, genderfae/genderfluid

Gold accents bc I love gold (and when I do the final rendering there may or may not be some kintsugi elements for, uh, personal reasons >.>)

Most of this Keyblade is supposed to be translucent: the water, the crystalline elements, and the fire to be specific. For the fire end of it, I took inspiration from Lea's Bond of Flame Flame Liberator (I know Keyblade names, I promise!). For the water, I wanted the translucency of the water elements in Destiny's Embrace, with ace-flag-colored koi leaping out of the waves. The general shape of it is vaguely reminiscent of Diamond Dust—and I mean vaguely—which as those of you who've played any given Final Fantasy game know is Shiva's signature move. Shiva holds a special place in my heart because of Heartfelt Adventure, that RP I was in that helped shape who I am today. The transition from water/ice to fire is not only super pretty, imo, but it also represents when I changed my summon in the RP from Shiva to Phoenix, which in and of itself was representative of how I've grown and changed as a person over the years.

The hilt was almost inspired by Oathkeeper, only as fairy wings (for genderfae), except that I hadn't added anything for my dragon zodiac at that point, so I decided to do a Loong-inspired dragon to wrap around the guard. I chose a Loong rather than a European dragon not just for aesthetics, but also because I felt it was more appropriate for an Eastern dragon to represent my Eastern Zodiac. I did incorporate a more European styled head for the dragon, because a) that's what I'm more comfortable drawing, b) I drew the head before I decided on the body even though I should know better, and c) I decided to keep it that way because I am of European descent, and my interpretation of the Zodiac is through a Western lens rather than an Eastern one, so by combining the two designs I feel like I'm honoring the origins of the Zodiac as well as my own origins.

The genderfae keychain was an afterthought; originally I was going to make the water-to-fire transition in genderfluid colors, and you can still see some of that in there, but they wound up getting covered by the water and fire. When I realized I'd accidentally covered the segment I was going to use to reflect my gender, I decided I liked that a lot better and... well, I just slapped the keychain on there XD I was going for fairy wings, but I think they look more like flower petals, so I might adjust the design to a flower later. Now, do I go with my favorite flower (rose), my birth flower (options of violet, primrose, or iris), or whatever this is supposed to be? Guess we'll find out~ XD

[catxsnow]

SPITFIRE J.T.

Summary: Maybe working with the Red Hood wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be. 

Warning: Suggestive Sexual Content but nothing major. Jason getting his ass kicked

A/N: I love Jason Todd more than myself. Welcome to my TED Talk

getting 100+ notes on my Puppy Love absolutely warmed my heart, thank you for the support!!

GIF is not mine - I’ve always been a fan of Matthew Daddario as Jason I’m sorry if think otherwise!

Word Count: 3.7k

The thing about being a hero, was that you never felt like a hero.

No matter who you took down, it was never going to be enough. There was always going to be someone to replace the person you caught.  Always someone bigger, badder, and harder to defeat than the last. After years of going through the motions, it was hard to see that your tactics changed to being more violent, more aggressive, but never lethal.

When you first started the game, you would try to make sure that no one would get hurt - including the people that you were going after. Now? Well, you'd have to wipe the blood off your suit and hide the bruises on your knuckles. You were dangerous, but that didn't mean that crime ever feared you.

The first time you saw him, you wondered who dared to try and take your city away from you and your protection. It wasn't hard to find him with his shining red helmet and the echo of ricocheting bullets. You were pissed to begin with that he was there but the fact that he was using guns as well? That just ticked you off.

Your first encounter was bloody, bruised, and maybe even broken. He was standing on the roof top, watching the people down below to see what was going on. After being in the hero game for a while, it was a little too easy to sneak up on people. He was just as surprised to feel a boot slam into his back with such force that he fell forward.

Your costume was sleek, skin tight, and as dark as the night itself. It took him half a second to realize that it was just a girl that had taken him down. His brief moment of underestimating you had been a mistake and you had taken the opportunity.

In a quick, precise, sequence of attacks, you took Jason down in seconds. You knew that one of his shoulders were popped out of place and the wind was knocked out of him. Your foot pressed into his chest the second he landed on his ass. His guns were knocked out of his hands and he was rendered defenseless by someone he didn't even know.

"Get out of my city," You nearly threatened him. This red helmet guy never said a word and you left without another. If you could take him down that easily the first time then you doubted that he was much of a threat - especially when he was hiding behind guns as a weapon.

Jason was in awe of you the moment that he saw you standing above him. However, he was also extremely pissed off - and that was something you should have been worried about. But, after not seeing him again for a week, the thought of him was out of your mind and you didn't think that he was going to come back.

That was your mistake.

Jason Todd was not the kind of person that someone should have messed with and you had pissed him off the second you laid eyes on him. While you thought he was gone from your home, he was actually picking up on your nightly routine. Where you would go as a vigilante, what your fighting style was like, he knew you just as much as you knew yourself.

You had been in the hero game for a while now. After seeing kids being slaughtered on your last day of high school, you wanted to make sure that no other kid had to go through that as well. Instead of going to like post-secondary like you had wanted, you had trained and trained until you knew that you could take down anyone that stood in your way.

Ten years later and you were standing there about to face your greatest foe yet: the Red Hood.

After not expecting to see Red Hood again, you were taken down by surprise while out on patrol. Jason had pulled the same trick on you that you had pulled on him. He had sneaked up behind you and pinned you to the ground. You didn't think that you would ever see this man again, yet here you both were.

Jason stood above you the same way that you had all those weeks ago with the exception of having a gun pointed at your head. "Who are you?" He asked with a modulated voice. As much as he had discovered about your fighting style, he never learned about your personal life or anything about who you really were.

"Get that gun out of my face and I might tell you," You snapped. Jason didn't budge. Using your elbow, you jammed it into the side of his knee with every ounce of strength you had. Thankfully he became off balanced enough that you could get out from under him and back on your feet.

The gun that Jason held was forced out of his hand and into your own. The moment that he realized you held one of his weapons, he had pulled out an identical gun. The two of you had the guns raised at each other. You couldn't see his expression, but judging by his body, he seemed laid back - like he knew you weren't going to shoot him.

After a moment of hesitance, you grabbed the gun by the chamber and held it out for him to take back. He grabbed it out of your hand, stepping back so you were out of arms reach. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Seeing you, in that suit and holding his gun? Jason was more smitten than he wanted to admit.

"Red Hood," Jason told you upon realizing that you weren't going to attack him again. You couldn't see his face from under his helmet but he was eyeing you up like a next meal. Jason was attracted to you without even knowing what all of your face looked like.

"I thought I told you to get out of my city," You sneered at him. Jason holstered his guns and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re going to get your ass handed to you if you don’t learn to listen to me.”

"I have some business here. The sooner I'm done, the sooner I'll leave," Jason gave you a vague answer. His business had been delayed after you made an appearance in his life. An idea popped into his head. "You know this city. Give me a hand and I'll be out of your life for good."

You hated guns. You hated what they could do to people and you hated being reminded of that terrifying, awful day at the high school every time you heard a shot go off. Yet, some how, up on that roof, you agreed to help this gun slaying vigilante so that he could get the hell out of your city.

After thinking for a couple moments, you stuck your hand out for him to shake. "Deal, Red," You squeezed his hand with a little more force than necessary. "You hurt one innocent civilian in my city and I won't hesitate to kill you myself. We get your guy and then you get the hell out of here and don't come back."

"I think you and I are going to get along just fine, spitfire."

><

You hated to admit it, but you and Jason got along a little too well while working together.

It took another week and a half to gather enough information about the man Jason was after. The two of you scouted and researched during the night, stopping a few criminals along the way. Jason would watch your six and you would do the same for him. In the short time that you worked together, it seemed that you were unstoppable.

Working with him had been an experience that you weren't expecting. On the streets the two of you were vicious, nothing and no one was going to stop you. However, when the two of you were in his hotel room, trying to figure out the connections of everything going on, the air felt lighter.

He would tease you, trying to get any sort of reaction out of you. Normally, you would hate when a man would do that to you, but with Red Hood, you couldn't help but tease him right back. You only hoped that under that helmet that he was at least smiling to your jokes.

He was.

Fighting a bunch of thugs alongside of him was more fun than it had been on your own and it looked like you guys had been at it for years.

You moved in sync with him and without even having to communicate that much, he had your back and you had his. It was as if the two of you were made to fight crime together. The time that it took to find who he was after had gone by far too fast and the night that you went after him finally arrived.

It was down by the docks, a new shipment of whatever he was trying to transport being brought in. You assumed guns, weapons, maybe even drugs. Never in your time in the city had you ever seen anyone try to smuggle in shipments. The bay that you had was small and big ships never made it in. Crime lords never found it worthy to bring in such small shipments until now.

You didn't know who the man was, or what he was bringing in but it had to have been bad. The night that you and Jason went after him was cold and rainy. However, the weather wasn't going to stop all of your hard work of trying to catch this guy.

There weren't many men. Being such a small area, you had to assume that they wanted to gain the least amount of attention as possible. Even only a dozen armed men, it still caught the attention of the Red Hood, and now, you too.

You and Jason quietly and efficiently took care of all the guards protecting the ship. Once again, the two of you fought so well and you were cherishing that this was going to be your last fight together. Jason was leaving you after tonight and you were a little disappointed.

You didn't know anything about him. Not once had he ever taken his helmet off in front of you or gave you any information about who he was. You were much the same, though. Your mask stayed on and he didn't even know your vigilante name - he continued to just call you spitfire.

So why were you so upset that you were never going to see him again? You didn't know the man, and yet you found yourself wanting - needing - to know more about him. To fight crime with him like this every night.

By the time that you reached the man that Jason was after, everyone that was protecting him was unconscious on the ground and he was left unguarded. Easy to take him down and easy to see what the hell he was trying to bring into the country through your city. He gave up like a scared puppy with his tail between his legs.

You and Jason looked intimidating above him. Between his broad shoulders, wide stance, and weapons laced up his legs and your arms wrapped snugly around his neck, he was terrified.

The shipment he was trying to bring in was destroyed with the help of Jason's tech that he carried around. It was hundreds of kilos of drugs and there was no chance that you were going to let that anywhere near the people of your city. The man and his crew were tied up and awaiting the police.

You and Jason got out of there before they showed up and ended up on the same roof top that you had met. "Guess this is goodbye," You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Thank you, Hood. I would have never discovered that shipment in time."

Jason shrugged. Upon arriving in the city, he didn't care if those drugs had gotten into the city - he cared about the guy in charge and how he could lead Jason one step closer to taking down Black Mask once and for all. After spending time with you, and seeing how much you cared for the city, he knew that he couldn't let those drugs get loose.

"Do you want to get a drink?" You asked, suddenly. "I like to think that my liquor collection is quite extensive and to be honest, I could use a hand to finish up some bottles."

Jason knew that going for a drink would mean that he would have to reveal himself to you. However, he also knew that you would have to do the same. As much as he didn't want to expose himself about his real identity, he also knew his curiosity of who you were under your own mask was to great to let go of.

So, he agreed.

The two of you jumped from roof top to roof top until you finally stopped on the roof of an apartment building. The two of you used the fire escape to sneak into your home, making sure that no one saw either of you.

Jason was in awe as he saw your home. It was a decent size studio apartment and the decor you had was simple, elegant, and nothing like he expected. Out on the streets, you were ruthless, didn't hesitate to break a few bones when necessary, and you didn't have a fear of getting your hands dirty. Your apartment didn't share the same appearance.

While you left to get out of your wet suit, Jason looked around your place. He picked up the variety of mugs that you used, wondering why you had picked each of the different designs and how much they matched your personality. Leaving your small kitchen area, he looked at the pictures you had around your home.

The picture of you and your parents caught his attention. He could tell that it was you, without your mask you were drop-dead gorgeous. Jason admired you from the picture, still shocked that you were willing to trust him with your identity. He nearly dropped the picture as you came out of your room.

Your black suit had been replaced with an old shirt with your high school logo on it as well as a pair of cotton shorts that were a little too short to wear in public. Jason was thankfully that he was still wearing his helmet, at least then you couldn't see his eyes latched onto you.

"Guess it's time for a proper introduction," You told him, sticking your hand out. "My names (Y/N) (L/N)."

Jason finally brought himself out of daze. You watched as he brought his hands up to his helmet and lifted it off his head. Your breath caught in your throat, under that intimidating red helmet was the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in your life. Black hair with the smallest tuft of white in the front. Bright blue eyes locked onto yours.

His jawline was sharp and he had high cheek bones that put yours to shame. You already knew just by looking at him that under that dripping wet suit of his, that his body was incredible. Broad shoulders, muscular thighs, you had to assume that his torso was just the same.

Holy shit, you had no idea he was going to be this attractive.

"Jason Todd," he finally shook your hand. "If I would have known you were this beautiful I would have tried to get you back to your place a long time ago."

"Trust me, I was thinking exactly the same thing."

><

You woke up the next morning completely naked at a strong arm wrapped around your waist. There was a slight pain in your head, but not nearly close to the worst hangover that you've had. Jason. Jason had come over and the two of you had drank away a couple of the nearly empty bottles of whiskey you had.

The night was filled with stories of the horrors each of you saw on the streets and the life threatening wounds that you had received. It felt as if it was a competition to who had seen the worst and had the worst done to them. Jason had won, easily, when he announced that he had died and come back to life.

You didn't question who had done it, or what his life was like before he died. The look in his eyes told you enough - he didn't want to talk about it. You couldn't blame him. You were basically a stranger to him and although he might have trusted you enough to not let him die, he didn't trust you with his secrets.

Jason brought the topics to something more light. He talked about the places he had seen, the people he got to meet - and even some of the iconic Justice League members he worked with. Though you thought that it was incredible that he knew someone of the biggest heroes in the world, he made sure that you knew that they were nothing like they were projected to be.

One thing led to another, drinks upon drinks, and you had ended up leading him into your bedroom. Jason proved your point that in fact every part of his body was just as incredible as you thought it would be. You had sex quite a few times, but he was easily the best - and biggest - that you've ever had.

The moment that you stirred awake, Jason's arms pulled you tighter against his bare chest. You absorbed the warmth his body radiated. Waking up like this was a rare case for you. Often times you had to leave with a walk of shame or had awoken and left your home before whoever was in your bed was would wake.

This morning with Jason felt different. Everything with him felt different. You didn't feel the need to prove yourself to him or run away in shame. From what you learned about him the night before, Jason was the kind of man that saw the flaws in a person, but he was also willing to accept them.

Jason saw your flaws and instead of running from them, he embraced them. He saw you for the person that you were, not the kind of person that you showed yourself to be in front of everyone. He was quick to realize your facade and cut through the bullshit of it.

Soft kisses trailed up your back and your neck. The warm air suddenly felt cool and a shiver raked over your body. Jason couldn't get enough of your taste, you noticed that the night before and it was the same that morning too. His lips constantly only any bare skin he could find.

"Jason," you breathed out. The moment you rolled over to face him his lips were on yours and you were succumbed into the same trance you were in last night. The warmth in you chest, between your legs, god, his touch was addicting. "Jay," you broke apart trying to get his attention.

He was supposed to leave that morning. Jason came to your apartment last night to have a drink to say goodbye and today he was going to be gone and never to return. You didn't want to get more addicted to him than you already were in the short two weeks that you worked together.

Jason met your eyes. He pushed the loose hairs out of your face and kept his hand cupped on your cheek. He didn't want to leave you that morning. Not when he felt something other than anger and frustration since he came back from the dead. He wasn't aware of what this feeling was, but he knew he needed more of it.

But you wanted him out of your city. You told him that when you agreed to help him take down this criminal. As much as he didn't want to heed to his promise, he knew he needed to. Messing with you was something that he didn't want to do. He knew how deadly you were, and he didn't dare want to get on your bad side.

Just because you slept with him, didn't mean that you wanted him to stay. At least, that was what he thought.

"How do you feel about sticking around a little longer? I could use your help to take out some more guys," You suddenly asked. Your fingers trailed up his bare chest and then began to play with the scruff on his face that had grown over the few days. It was risky to ask him, you didn't want him to think that you were clingy, but you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to appease your cravings of him.

Jason held shock in his eyes but kept from making any faces with your question. He thought you would want him gone, out of your life forever. He wasn't going to be good for you - not when your ideals of how to save the city were different. He was just thankful that your line wasn't so far back as Batman's.

You knew that sometimes, lives had to be taken to solve any real problems - you just didn't want to admit it. You knew that you could never take a life, but you also knew why Jason could. Maybe you could learn from each other, maybe you could both learn yourselves to become more suited to the world you lived in.

Maybe that feeling in your chest when you were with him was meant to be more than just an addiction. Even after all these years you had so much to learn - and not just about crime fighting, but about life too. And maybe, just maybe, it was going to be Jason that was going to be the one to teach you these things, to learn these things with him.

"I was hoping that you'd keep me around, Spitfire."

[clowniconography]

A couple weeks ago when it was still snowy I went for a walk in the cemetery and then preceded to start writing this short bit of prose about it. Now there’s no snow left on the ground and I’m already starting to miss it a little, but I finished the story. how about you come and take a little wintery walk with me?

When I entered the cemetery, I knew for a fact that I was the only human visitor it had seen in days. 

Among the many uses for snow, two of the most notable are “security system” and “clock”. No matter how much you disguise yourself, when there’s snow on the ground there’s no way of stopping your boots marking your every move, short of learning to fly. 

Weeks upon weeks of intermittent snow mean that on that particular day, everything that didn’t have a heartbeat wore its history like a neon sign. I could tell when every car had last been cleaned, when every sidewalk had last been shovelled, and when every unpaved path had last been tread. Every winter, I see the snow as a delightful opportunity to know things about my environment that would never be clear to me otherwise.

In that most prodigious of winters I had come to memorize my own boot tread pretty well, as generic as it was. I was able to competently distinguish my men’s size 9 ½ from every other men’s size 9 ½, although I have no obvious use for such knowledge.

On my way onto the cemetery grounds, the signs of human intrusion were apparent in places, but what individual footprints I could make out had been rendered toothless and near invisible by a good three or four inches of snow. No, I was sure that I was the only one there, and the first in days at that.

And before you ask; no, I’ve never been afraid of cemeteries. At a young age I experienced a series of funerals in quick succession, each for a different distant elderly relative who I barely knew. For me, these experiences turned cemeteries into normal businesses you run errands to like any supermarket, graves into simple rocks as mundane as address plaques, and corpses into inanimate objects.

I had taken a particular interest in a cemetery near to where I live. I’m not native to the area and no one I know is buried there, but that didn’t matter. I considered the cemetery simply a quaint and charming few acres of trees and pretty rocks amongst miles of suburban houses. It was a pretty place where solitude was easy to find, and as a bonus I felt a good samaritan when visiting and cleaning some of the older, more derelict graves.

I hadn’t visited the cemetery since the winter had started and the snow had begun to make itself a constant presence. Just as spring and fall had done in the past, winter put its own stylistic spin on the backdrop of graves. Great untouched white plains dotted with solitary black stones stretched out before me. It was a sunny afternoon, and whenever the sun peaked its head out of the measly clouds the landscape would transform into one giant dazzlingly reflective surface. Despite the frigid air there were a few varieties of bird that could still be heard chirping in the black and white striped treetops above. 

I took a rambling route through those of the cemetery’s paths that were still passable. A good few feet of snow stood between me and my favorite viewpoint in the place, but the view from the regular trail suit me fine. 

Over the course of the winter I had also learned how to distinguish the prints of a few of the cemetery’s nonhuman inhabitants. On the ground I would occasionally see the sticklike protrusions of the sparrows I could hear conversing above me. Long spidering trails criss-crossed the ground where squirrels dashed from tree to tree. Every once in a while I would even delight in finding a cluster of coffee-bean-shaped deer tracks. 

I meandered along the trail, taking in my usual sights, eventually passing by the small cobblestone building at the center of the property. I had always assumed it to be a storage space for maintenance equipment and such, but its appearance was so utterly commonplace and fitting that I usually took no notice of it. 

However, as I approached the building, I did become aware of something quite strange: a set of footprints leading inside. 

I didn’t notice the prints at first glance because of just how similar they were to mine. I stamped a print of my own next to one of them to compare and was surprised at how alike they were, Same size, similar design, maybe even same brand, but still definitely different. Like I said before, they were leading into the shed, with no visible set of footprints leading out.

This wasn’t that strange. Of course it wasn’t. How self-important could I be, surprised to see that someone other than me had breached the fresh snow? The cemetery wasn’t fenced in, and someone could’ve easily entered from a different direction without me having seen them. 

Pretending this was no detour from the original intended trajectory of my walk, I began to follow the footprints towards their origin. I retraced them away from the storage shed and along the path in the opposite direction. They followed this path deeper into the cemetery, and around a turn towards the trees on the edge of the property. The trees loomed like burnt skeletons, casting shadows over the otherwise blindingly bright snowpack.

As I neared this naturally-occurring boundary, the prints came to an abrupt stop. Or, more fittingly, they came to an abrupt start, since I had been following them backwards.

It was as simple as this: one moment the footprints weren’t there, the next they were, appearing clear as day on the pristine snowy ground. No other footprints save for my own invaded the spot for at least three yards in every direction.

I huffed audibly, annoyed that my search had brought up not just nothing, but less than nothing. I followed my own footprints back to the shed and was met with another shock: the door was open. 

While it was getting more and more difficult to distinguish the footprints the more I tread the same ground repeatedly, I could tell that there was still no set of footprints leading out. Eager to get the explanation for the footprints that I was sure existed, I powered forward into the shed. 

It was dark inside the shed, and it was just as cold as it had been outside but was tenfold more damp and uncomfortable. My initial assumption had been correct: the shed was full of maintenance equipment. Gardening shears, brooms, and hammers were among the objects I saw populating the walls. One thing that I was sure I didn’t see, was any people. I was alone.

I turned around a few times, inspecting the inside of the shed for any signs--signs of what? I felt incredibly stupid. I’m no detective, and spinning in circles inside a building I definitely wasn’t supposed to be in was getting me nowhere. 

Suddenly, as I was facing the back wall of the shed, I heard a loud dusty THUD come from behind me. I whipped around and was horrified to find that the door to the shed had slammed shut with me still inside. 

I rushed to the door and grasped the handle. It appeared locked, but there was nothing to indicate a lock on the inside of the door. The doorknob was smooth and featureless, an ancient and simple construction of brass. I pawed at it for a minute before coming to the conclusion that turning the knob was no use.

Fear and panic mounting, I began to slam my entire body into the frail door, which coughed up spouts of dust with every collision. I was beginning to worry I would have to call the authorities and ashamedly explain my predicament (I pushed aside any thought that suggested the shutting the door had been the machinations of anything more intelligent than a gust of wind). 

I was absolutely frantic by the time the door gave way as easily as if it had been open the entire time. 

Luckily, I prevented myself from falling directly into the snow. I stumbled clumsily out into the blinding white afternoon, cold winter air bracing my face. For the first time that day I was truly thankful that no one was around to witness me.

Determined not to let this experience shake me, I continued my twisting walk through the cemetery, making my best effort to let the cool air and soothing sounds of the forest soothe my nerves. What I didn’t do was turn back to look at the shed, to check if there really was a lock on the outside of the door.

After about twenty minutes of taking in the scenery, the snow blindness was beginning to get to me. More and more of my vision was filling with patches of white, and that which I could see appeared foggy and blue-tinted. I started back the way I came, and along the way I encountered my own footprints from earlier in the walk.

It was then I saw my last and final strange thing: another set of footprints, same as before. They were unmistakably the same prints as the once I had seen earlier, nearly identical to mine.

Just like before, these strange footprints started pure out of the blue, in the middle of the trail. Unlike before, though, they weren’t leading towards a specific destination. 

Instead, they seemed to follow my own, two steps behind. 

I stiffened my posture and quickened my walking pace slightly, not allowing this sight to get the best of me beyond that. I didn’t want to run, or yell, and by god was I not going to turn around. 

I only made it a few steps before I felt a shock run through my body. I don’t know what it was; an evolutionary failsafe, a message from a higher power, or even the most imperceptible sound of a boot heel compressing the snow somewhere nearby. 

Whatever it was, it caused me to immediately take off running towards the edge of the cemetery as a terrifyingly dark feeling began to overtake me. With every frantic footstep my boots sent snow flying, while themselves filling entirely with chunks of snow within seconds. My vision filled with more and more of that white static until I was barrelling forward entirely blind. I still feel thankful that I managed not to stumble or slip even once for the entire stretch, although what that thankfulness is for I still do not know. 

When I crossed the border of the cemetery and emerged on the sidewalk, The oppressive feeling ceased at once and all was normal again. I came to an abrupt stop and turned around to see nothing but my own messy bootprints leading to the spot where I stood.

I immediately began to scold myself internally for how irrational I’d acted. Standing outside the cemetery, inhabiting the world of the real and the logical, my own behavior from just seconds before felt shameful and childish. Dejected, I walked myself and my now extremely wet boots all the way home. 

I’m still not afraid of cemeteries. I’m not going to stop going to that same cemetery, either.

 I just think I’m going to wait until after all the snow has melted. 

[passionate-reply]

This time on Great Albums, I talk about an album that actually isn’t older than I am for a change! Enter the spooky, haunted forest of The Knife with me, and find out why it was Pitchfork’s Album of the Year in 2006! Full transcript after the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be tackling an album that’s more recent than anything I’ve done on Great Albums before, but it’s still old enough to start being considered a classic: The Knife’s Silent Shout, released in 2006, and hence seeing its fifteenth birthday in 2021. Silent Shout is a bit special to me, insofar as it was an album I loved as a teenager, back when it was still pretty new, and it was probably the first album I really fell in love with that wasn’t significantly older than I was. I was quite surprised when I eventually learned just how beloved Silent Shout is among music aficionados. This album has been lauded in critical circles, recommended as a “patrician” essential, and even considered one of the greatest electronic albums of all time! So, what’s the fuss about?

Before Silent Shout, The Knife were significantly closer to a conventional electronic pop duo. Their biggest claim to fame was the track “Heartbeats,” which scored some exposure after a cover of it was featured in a TV ad.

Music: “Heartbeats”

I like to think that “Heartbeats” contains the seeds of what’s great about Silent Shout, with its grinding synth backing and vocalist Karin Dreijer’s affecting wail. But its indie-pop brightness is something distinctively absent from their follow-up. Contrary to what might’ve been expected from an up-and-coming pop act, the sibling duo hunkered down in the studio and set about making something stranger and more exotic. On the technical front, they stripped the production down to its bare essentials, using just digital rhythms and two synthesisers to achieve everything we hear on the album. Stylistically, they took their sound into moody, atmospheric territory, imbuing it with this eerie, claustrophobic ambiance. It’s the musical equivalent of Frankenstein emerging from Mary Shelley’s mind, while the dreary “Year Without a Summer” had poisoned the world around her.

Music: “Silent Shout”

The title track here is also the opener, and introduces us to the frightful world of Silent Shout without mercy. This track is dominated by a powerful contrast of sound: low, thrumming bass, and these quick, but delicate and meandering synth arpeggios, carrying a distinctively Scandinavian flair. This bewitching synthesis of musical ideas makes sense in light of the diverse influences of the two siblings who made up The Knife: Instrumentalist Olaf Dreijer was strongly influenced by dance styles like house, trance, and progressive techno, as well as ambient electronic music, whereas vocalist Karin Dreijer was interested in guitar-based popular music, as well as the distinctive folk traditions of their native Sweden. Not unlike the Pet Shop Boys, they’ve got a wide gap between their influences, but that only serves to intensify the uniqueness of their work, which strikes listeners in a way the constituent musical parts of its heritage never could. Perhaps the most significant sonic feature of the album, though, is the extreme electronic distortions of Karin Dreijer’s voice.

Music: “One Hit”

If raw and everymannish vocals make music feel more in line with our everyday reality, the shocking and monstrous ones on *Silent Shout* render it a truly otherworldly work of art. While many people are quick to decry the “fakeness” of electronically mediated vocals--despite the fact that all art is, of course, artificial--I think Silent Shout proves, more boldly than anything else, just how uniquely powerful this musical tool can be in the right hands. Once you get past the sheer sonic force of the vocals, and their peculiar, skin-crawling timbres, you’ll find that most of the lyrical subject matter is actually painfully quotidian. “One Hit,” for instance, is told from the perspective of an all-too-normal “monster”: a domestic abuser, extracting and enforcing femininity and domestic servitude through the force of violence, dealing in “one hit, one kiss.” Sex, gender, and exploitation based upon them are among the album’s most central themes, and expressed harrowingly on tracks like “Na Na Na”:

Music: “Na Na Na”

Perhaps moreso than any other track on the album, “Na Na Na” is rendered borderline incomprehensible by vocal treatment--a trait magnified by its obviously meaningless title and chorus. But “Na Na Na” does have real lyrics, which tell the story of a life mediated by reproductive anatomy, defined by the rhythm of menstruation, coming from within, and the constant fear of sexual violence from without. It’s a tale of hidden anxiety, and experiences that go unseen and unspoken despite how common they are, making the haze of inscrutability laid over them all the more poignant. It’s clear that these issues are of high importance to Karin Dreijer, who has publicly described themself as “genderqueer,” despite both members of the band being remarkably sparing with all personal details. In another of the most striking vocal performances on the album, “We Share Our Mother’s Health,” Dreijer even gets to sing a duet with themself, and embody two distinct characters at once.

Music: “We Share Our Mother’s Health”

“We Share Our Mother’s Health” can be read in the light of gender and sex dynamics, as well, particularly if you’re willing to read its twin narrators as representations of masculinity and femininity. Personally, though, I think that’s a bit too easy, and really, a bit too cisnormative. I think the album is more interesting if we embrace the fundamental uncertainty of identity, and the transgressive queerness of it all. That said, I prefer to think of “We Share Our Mother’s Health” as a piece about capitalism--the endless toiling and scrounging for more material comfort and security, and the emptiness left behind when that proves to be no pathway towards true happiness. Besides, it’s not like sexism and the class struggle don’t feed off of each other in the end. This track’s sense of cacophony, with voices nearly battling to drown each other out, shows its more strident, aggressive, and downright angry side, which it delivers as powerfully as it does those moody atmospheres.

Silent Shout is the perfect title for this album, given its emphasis on voicing internal and private laments that go unheard--and voicing them with this terrifying sense of primal scream catharsis. While I initially wasn’t overly fond of the album art, it’s grown on me a bit now that I’ve seen it blown up to a larger size. This central disc shape is certainly evocative of a record or a CD, and its industrial-looking lattice structure, with a mottled, grimey-looking texture, helps conjure the impression of machine-age ennui.

I think a lot of the enduring appeal of Silent Shout is its sense of mystery. A lot of that mystery is deliberately crafted iconoclasm, and part of the art--while promoting the album, The Knife were photographed wearing sinister, elaborate beaked “plague doctor” masks, and their live performances from this period shrouded the band in darkness to obfuscate their appearances. They’ve refused to accept awards for their music or attend award ceremonies, including one memorable incident in which they sent costumed representatives of feminist organisation Guerrilla Girls in their stead. After Silent Shout, the duo created an opera based on Charles Darwin’s The Origin of Species in 2009, and released one more studio album in 2013: Shaking the Habitual.

Music: “A Tooth For an Eye”

Shaking the Habitual received mixed reviews, and so far, has proven to be the siblings’ final work together, though they remain active as musicians independently, with Karin Dreijer recording under the moniker “Fever Ray.” Part of the great myth of Silent Shout is the fact that nothing else in their discography really quite approaches its specific sound, and sharp precision of conceptual focus. It’s like the album is tailor made to stand perfectly alone, outside of context, perhaps even outside of genre.

For many of us, this great legend of lightning-in-a-bottle genius is infinitely alluring. But I’ve never really bought into it too thoroughly myself. I obviously adore Silent Shout, and I think it’s a Great Album. But, unlike many people who have showered it with praise, often claiming that they don’t enjoy “electronic music” overall, I’ve always been interested in a lot of heavy, angry, creepy synthesiser-based music, and so I never thought too much of listening to this and liking it. People praise Silent Shout for being unlike anything else, but I think it sounds like a lot of post-industrial dark wave, like Attrition or Chris & Cosey, and its themes of feminist rage feel like a strong parallel to that of more recent stars of noise music such as Pharmakon and Lingua Ignota. But that’s not to devalue what Silent Shout does achieve! I think it *is* a unique album...in the way that a bat is a unique animal. Much as bats are not the only creatures who fly, but stand out for having developed that ability despite their mammalian heritage, Silent Shout doesn’t actually take direct inspiration from the earlier music it sounds the most like. It ended up there through the aforementioned eldritch alchemy, combining trance and folk and Kate Bush to get something new. That’s still something worth celebrating! Silent Shout needn’t be a perfect enigma to be a stirring masterpiece of an album.

My overall top track on Silent Shout, which I bet will be a popular choice, is “Forest Families.” It’s equal parts bleak and strangely anthemic, defined by both the unease of adapting to a plainer and harsher existence, outside the bounds of society, as well as the release that music itself provides to so many of us as we seek comfort. Since music is so important to me, I’m a real sucker for music about the importance of music, and it feels particularly well-placed on an album that’s a cathartic listen in so many ways. That about wraps this one up; thank you for watching!

Music: “Forest Families”