#senseless justice and punishment embodied

[narrativedamnation]

silent hill AU w strahm as pyramid head yeahyeahyeah

[carionto]

When does what count?

The pursuit for the truth in criminal cases is... messy at the best of times. If the criminals are from different species you gotta deal with multiple jurisdictions at minimum. Then throw in a Human in the mix? Good luck figuring anything out, you'll need it.

Not that Humans are the best liars, or masters of not leaving evidence, or the ultimate manipulators. There's not even close to a standard way of dealing with them.

The guidelines Human authorities provided help, yes, but all of them come with caveats and exceptions and warning signs to look out for.

Every individual is different. Some species might have lesser deviations than others, but there are only a handful of hive-mind like ones where you can objectively and easily determine what is normal and what needs certain kinds of apprehension or treatment methods.

Human deviations are all over the place.

Some will confess right away upon being questioned by law enforcement. This is the best case scenario, but even then there are some cases where you might have wished they had tried to be deceptive. There are few things more terrifying in the Galaxy than a Human confessing, without batting an eye or stuttering their words, to some of the most brutal acts of senseless violence, unprovoked I might add, and calmly stating they felt nothing. That is fear personified.

Many will try to make your life miserable. They will employ every legal avenue, exploit the tiniest questionable details, get as many other people involved as possible to muddy the waters, even plan an escape if they manage to find or create an opportunity. You will have to work overtime, sifting through countless documents, piece together a puzzle without any known pieces. The worst is when you have a Human who is guilty, but not for the crime you are pursuing them for, and all that work has to start all over in pursuit of an individual you might now have to track across half the Galaxy on a cold trail. This is the embodiment of frustration.

A few will give you the longest, most intense and dangerous days of your life. They will run. They will fight. They will not submit. They will want to go down rather than face justice. They will endanger others along the way. They will destroy anything in their path to freedom. They are fury incarnate.

Now, of course, the vast majority will not be such extreme cases. You can reason with them. You can persuade, strike a deal. Punish and rehabilitate.

But every case will be different, should you ever encounter a Human. And there is always a chance, no matter how slim, barring extreme limitations of course, that any Human could go to a further end than any logic would dictate. A minor inspection may become a murder in a split second, and an unknown killer may just give up at the slightest inconvenience and confess a dozen cold cases just like that.

[twilightmalachite]

MIRAGE - The Most Beautiful Mirror in the World 6

Author: Akira

Characters: Yuuta, Shinobu

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofers: Bella

"(Who can I even talk to about this? My parents? God? Is there anyone who can make this right?)"

Season: Winter

Location: Back Alley in Downtown

That day, after school…

Shinobu: …

Yuuta: …Look, Shinobu-kun.

I just told you. Stay out of this. It’s best for the both of us.

I’m not gonna hold back from spitting in the industry bigwig’s faces anymore. You wouldn’t want to be on my side anyways.

You might end up ruining RYUSEITAI’s reputation of being allies of justice, y’know. If you become a bad boy like me, everyone in RYUSEITAI might even start looking down on you.

You don’t want that. Who would? Nobody likes a bad kid.

Go home.

Shinobu: …Ninja art: hiding technique!

Yuuta: What?

Shinobu: Yuuta-kun has successfully fallen for my ninjutsu, and is speaking in the wrong direction!

What he doesn’t know is that he is only looking at a mirage, my real self being in the shadows of the convenience store—

Yuuta: Hiyah.

Shinobu: Oww. I-I’m against violence…

Yuuta: C’mon, I didn’t hit that hard. If you had been Aniki, I would’ve done a jump kick.

Shinobu: The degree of violence doesn’t matter, de gozaru! Hitting others is bad no matter what!

Wait, ahh, not that I’m here, or anything.

Hehehe, that foolish Yuuta-kun—he’s striking in the wrong direction. All right!

Yuuta: What are you doing? Look, this is starting to really get on my nerves. Can’t you go and disappear already?

Y’know, with your oh-so-amazing ninjutsu and shit. Go poof.

Shinobu: Ninjutsu is used when you must escape from your enemies, de gozaru.

However, Yuuta-kun is no enemy of mine.

Yuuta: Aren’t you using a hiding technique right now, though? Since you’re using ninjutsu, doesn’t that mean you think of me as your enemy?

Shinobu: Ah… W-Wrong! Hidden techniques don’t count. You can use those against your allies too. Yes.

Yuuta: You’re kidding me… Guess I don’t know anything about ninjas.

Shinobu: If you’d like, I can teach you, de gozaru! About ninjas! I love them so much I could go on about them for a week straight!

Yuuta: I really don’t want to be stuck listening to your senseless, endless otaku ramblings…

Shinobu: Ah, he ran away, de gozaru! Yuuta-kun, wait!

Heheheh, if you think you can escape the pursuit of a ninja, you are naive indeed~!

Yuuta: (…What the hell?)

(Why is he chasing after me? Even though I said things so harsh it makes me want to throw up from self-disgust…)

(Why won’t he leave me alone? Because he’s a friend? What even is a friend?)

(Is this something someone normal would know? A normal kid who is loved by his parents, goes to school normally, and is able to make friends normally?)

(I just don’t get it…! Why was I born as an abnormal kid who can’t even understand something so normal?)

(Who can I even talk to about this? My parents? God? Is there anyone who can make this right?)

Location: Downtown

One hour later…

Yuuta: (Phew… I got away, somehow.)

(Shinobu-kun’s been chasing me persistently, and it’s put me through a lot of trouble… He’s surprisingly fast and is really good at tailing others. As expected of a ninja, I guess.)

(But, I’ve got my share of chasing! I’ve been playing tag with Aniki ever since I was little!)

(Every time Aniki would do something stupid, I’d get angry and chase him—)

(And while doing so, I’d be able to forget about all the things I hate. Even if nothing would get solved, once I’d catch Aniki and punish him, I’d feel much better.)

(…I’ve been using Aniki as a punching bag for so long.)

(By turning Aniki into the embodiment of all that is bad in the world, I was able to find peace of mind by beating him into a pulp. Ahh, and I’d say I was the good kid compared to him.)

(The more righteous one.)

(But, that was sick of me, and I regret what I did to “Hinata-kun”.

(It’s me, now. I’ve become the demon.)

(No… From the beginning, the most horrible one of us was…)

Shinobu: Yuuuuta-kuun! ♪

Yuuta: Hyaaahhh!?

Shinobu: Whoa, what a scream. No way, did you not notice me? I was behind you this entire time, de gozaru…

Eheh, it seems like my hidden arts are more advanced than I had thought!

Yuuta: …Seriously, what do you want?

Seriously, even though I was disguised as Aoi Byakuya, you still recognized me.

Shinobu: Hehe, you can’t deceive the eyes of a ninja! I could tell at first glance!

Yuuta: And yet the first time you ran into me like this, you panicked and said “Who!?”

Shinobu: …Yuuta-kun, do you want ice cream?

Yuuta: Huh? In winter?

Shinobu: Eating ice cream in the winter is also exceptional, de gozaru! Around this time of year, people are always lining up at convenience stores for new flavors—

I get all excited every year as well!

Yuuta: Uh-huh…

Shinobu: …I’ve always wanted a friend with whom I could talk about the little things to.

Yuuta: If you wanna talk about those things, why can’t you just talk to the other kids in RYUSEITAI…

Shinobu: Because there, we have allll sorts of problems going on…

It’s always talk about things like work and the future of the unit. My stomach ends up hurting to the point I couldn’t get ice cream if I wanted, de gozaru…

Yuuta: I get that. For me, it’s not too much an issue anymore, but… Before, my friends, family, and colleagues were all Aniki. So if we got into a fight, it was the absolute worst.

The entire world would turn pitch black. When a moonless night falls, I can’t see anything.

Shinobu: Mhm!

I want you to be able to talk to me about those things, important or not, de gozaru. I want to know more about you, Yuuta-kun.

Yuuta: Does… that mean you’re going to become a bad kid with me?

Shinobu: No. I’m a part of RYUSEITAI after all, I can’t take part in anything bad.

Yuuta: Then this conversation is over.

Shinobu: Don’t say that. If one overlooks evil deeds, they’re disqualified as a hero, but if one abandons a troubled friend, they’re disqualified as a human being.

I’m a coward, so I don’t think I could get in the dirt with you, Yuuta-kun. I’ve never really wanted to take revenge on someone who made me upset, so I can’t empathize with you.

Yuuta: …

Shinobu: But even still, I might be able to at least help you in another way. To fight the enemy—the evil that’s tormenting you, Yuuta-kun. And for that reason, I’ll put my mind to it and do whatever I can!

Whether you want it or not, this is what I want to do. No, this is what I (boku) will do.

That’s what I’ve decided.

Yuuta: You really are selfish. Just like everybody else around me.

But maybe it’s alright if I’m selfish, like you and everyone else too, y’know! But when I oppose my father and other people in higher positions, I get scolded for being a bad kid…

I shouldn’t have to be the only one forbidden to do what everyone else does normally.

Shinobu: Nobody’s trying to forbid or condemn you for anything, though.

Yuuta: Right… …I’ll have one of those ice creams as well.

I don’t really like sweet things, but seeing you eat it made me really want one too.

Shinobu: Sure, but it’s not on me, de gozaru. You’ll have to pay me back!

Yuuta: Jeesh~, you’re so stingy, Shinobu-kun.

Shinobu: I’ve told you again and again, I’m kinda broke!

Yuuta: …♪

Shinobu: …♪

← prev | story directory | next →

[vicecityhq]

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: burnt sugar, dead roses, and half-lit cigarettes. With a slight resemblance to BAE JOOHYUN (IRENE) of/the RED VELVET.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

create the file: last name, first name: chae sebinn alias: one-winged angel realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Korean, born in Rome age: 300+ date of birth: mid-1600s gender: cis female preferred pronouns: she/her species: succubus occupation: ivory lotus mistress sexual orientation: undecided but ultimately, not straight

VISUAL FILE:

skin color: pale red eye color: golden scars: none piercings: not anywhere one can see with clothes on ;0 tattoos: a giant red dragon on her left thigh hair color: black abnormalities: not really abnormal but she has claw-like nails. Are they acrylics? Who knows horns/ wings/ etc: one enormous, black, dragon-like wing, curled ram-like horns, sharp fangs,  transformed form: red eyes, the wing, and a prehensile tail hehe

PERSONAL FILE:

religious belief:  does considering oneself god count as a religion? sins:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / lust  /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath virtues: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility /  patience /  justice known languages: english, korean, latin, among others secrets: there’s literally no reason that she needs to be as fucking crazy as she is. savvies: a great manipulator; she can play to people’s wants and beliefs, willing to do anything (in more ways than one) to obtain power, actually a pretty decent leader

powers & abilities: immortality, lust inducement, kiss of death (gluck gluck 3000 of the soul), Death by Sex, Dream Walking, Enslavement Kiss, Indomitable Sexuality, Lust Magic, Temptation Embodiment.

traits: through, but just. Mean. so mean.

BACKGROUND CHECK:

date of birth: mid-1600s date of death: n/a crime record: she hasn’t gotten caught for anything yet but you know she’s done some shit

Background/Biography:

( TW: death)

BORN TO AN ARISTOCRATIC DEMON FAMILY, CHAE SEBINN HAD IT ALL. SHE WAS THE PRIDE AND JOY OF EVERYONE IN HER LIFE; SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL, SMART, AND SEEMINGLY KIND. HER FAMILY, LIKE MANY OTHER SUPERNATURAL BEINGS DURING HER TIME, LIVED OUT THEIR DAYS SEEMINGLY HUMAN; HER FAMILY WAS ESPECIALLY RARE, GOING SO FAR AS TO RENOUNCE THEIR DEMONIC NATURES SO THAT THEY MIGHT WALK IN PEACE AMONG THE HUMANS.

SEBINN WAS DIFFERENT. WHILE SHE WAS RAISED TO HOLD THE SAME BELIEFS AS HER FAMILY, SHE KNEW SHE WAS SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. SHE DIDN’T WANT TO PLAY AT HUMAN: MALLEABLE, SMALL…WEAK. IT WAS BENEATH HER. SHE WANTED EVERYONE TO KNOW JUST HOW GOOD SHE WAS, AND HOW GREAT SHE COULD BE.

SHE THOUGHT THAT COMMUNICATING THIS TO HER FAMILY WOULD CHANGE THEIR WAYS, BECAUSE SHE WAS MOST LOVED, MOST REVERED, ABOVE ALL IN HER HOUSE. DESPITE THAT, SHE WAS MET WITH CONCERN, WORRY. HER PARENTS TALKED HER OFF THE LEDGE, OR SO THEY’D THOUGHT.

WITHOUT ANY BACKING FROM THE HOUSE, SEBINN WENT SO FAR AS TO SNEAK OFF IN THE NIGHT, COURTING VARIOUS SUITORS AND PLAYING AT GOD WHEN SHE COULD. SHE WENT SO FAR AS TO SEDUCE VARIOUS MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH, CLAIMING TO BE THEIR GOD--THEY DIDN’T KNOW ANY BETTER, AND WITH HER ENHANCED MANIPULATION, ONE BY ONE, THEY HAD FALLEN TO HER FEET.

IT GOT BORING, OVER TIME, HOWEVER; KNOWING PEOPLE COULD SO EASILY SUCCUMB TO HER AND HER WILLS WAS NO FUN, AT LEAST NOT ALONE. OVER THE YEARS, SHE CONTINUED TO TRY AND PRESSURE HER FAMILY INTO JOINING HER IN HER DARK CRUSADE, BUT THEY DIDN’T LISTEN.

SO, SHE KILLED THEM ALL.

FOR A TIME, SHE WENT INTO HIDING, JUMPING FROM CONTINENT TO CONTINENT WITH THE HELP OF HER FAMILY’S MASSIVE FORTUNE, AND PONDERED WHY SHE HAD DONE WHAT SHE’D DONE. IN THE END, SHE CONCLUDED THAT IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN HELPED. THAT THIS WAS THEIR ABSOLUTION, THEIR SALVATION.

SHE HAD KILLED THEM TO SAVE THEM, SHE DECIDED, IF THEY WERE NOT TO COME WITH HER, THEN THEY SHOULD NOT BE PUNISHED FOR IT. TO HER, IT WAS A MERCY. TO EVERYONE ELSE? SENSELESS MURDER, PROBABLY.

EVENTUALLY, SHE FOUND HERSELF AMONG THE WOMEN OF THE COVEN THAT WOULD EVENTUALLY BLOOM INTO AND FOUND THE IVORY LOTUS. SHE WAS STILL YOUNG THEN, HAVING BEEN ADOPTED BY THE WOMEN OF THE CLAN AFTER HAVING SOLD A STORY OF HER LOST HERITAGE AND HER FAMILY THAT HAD BEEN "TRAGICALLY MURDERED". SHE GREW WITH THE COVEN AND EVENTUALLY WITH THE LOTUS, STARTING AS THE LOWEST OF THE LOW.

FOLLOWING THE LOSS OF MANY OF THE HEADS OF POWER IN THE GANG, ALL EYES TURNED TO HER TO BECOME THEIR NEXT LEADER. AND WHILE SHE WAS STILL VERY YOUNG, SHE WATCHED THEIR PETTY PLAYS AT POWER UNFOLD MUCH TO HER DELIGHT. SHE DECIDED THAT IT WOULDN’T BE ANY GOOD TO BE LEFT OUT FROM ALL THE FUN, AND THAT GOD DESERVED HER RIGHTFUL THRONE IN THE KINGDOM OF HER HEAVEN, RIGHT?

WHICH IS HOW SHE FOUND HERSELF NOW, PERCHED UP HIGH AND MIGHTY IN HER GILDED THRONE (WORK CHAIR) IN THE CURSED AGDOEG, FIGHTING A MERCILESS, BRUTAL WAR FOR NOTHING BUT THE FUN OF IT.

FOR SHE WAS ABSOLUTION, FOR SHE WAS SALVATION.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

“I-I don’t know,” her quiet whimper still managed to echo in the quiet room. The incompetence of whoever had landed her here would be paid with their head on a fucking platter. She didn’t need to fucking be here. But it was easier to play along as hapless victim than run from the police. Which was why her record was about as clean as a newborn baby’s. 

“It happened so fast… one minute I was walking home from my sister’s apartment--she has the sweetest baby--and the next, I saw some brutes attacking each other outside of the bar!” They weren’t just any brutes, they were members of the other gangs in the city. The smell of hound and fae still tickled at her nose. But she wasn’t supposed to know that; she was supposed to be an innocent by-stander, who got lost in the mess of such a… terrible fight. Giving away information now would be pointless, and also, would make it harder for her to get out scot-free. 

She looked up at the officer with wide, teary eyes. “I’m so sorry, it’s been such a long night… may I please go home now?” 

[vigilaent]

a fatal flaw of dick’s robin was projecting his own self - inflicted sense of innocence onto the rest of the world.     the judgement he wielded was very much black and white and didn’t leave much room for shades of gray.     there’s good and there’s bad,  murderers and the murdered,  the guilty and the innocent.     a lot of this thinking came with being batman’s sidekick,  but a lot of it was just dick’s mind trying to cope with the injustice of his parents’ death as a child.     watching them plummet to the ground just out of reach and learning someone did that on purpose.     their deaths were just a blip on someone else’s radar,  and years later when he finally gets to avenge them,  bring this learned idea of justice to the unjust and finally reap the satisfaction,  the repercussions wind up killing more innocents in an endless cycle he thought he could bring to a close.     violence has never truly provided a sense of fairness for him,  despite all his trying.     it only ever seemed to beget more violence,  and the feeling of guilt he carries for his portion of it is something he imposes on anyone else who makes similar choices he did. 

living in gotham gave dick a bird’s eye view of some of the worst humanity has to offer,  the deplorable and irredeemable,  the desperate,  senseless kind of living.     in a city like that,  there was no room for shades of gray if you wanted to survive.     anything less never felt like it would even the odds,  never felt like it could keep you alive and separate from the evil that devoured everything around it.     ‘  all it takes for evil to succeed is for good men and women to do nothing.  ’     you either fight against the evil or you become it.     or worse,  as dick would discover,  in fighting against it,  you become the very thing you fought to destroy.

the kind of justice batman and robin dish out in gotham requires a level of arrogance to exist.     it’s in the definition of justice when you believe you can embody it  ;  if you're the hand of justice,  there’s a stock you have to put in your very own ideas of right and wrong,  that you know what’s unfair and what’s not,  and what the correct course of action is for making it fair is.     you’ve imposed an ideal greater than a single person can conceptualize onto yourself—  you’re the judge,  jury,  and executioner in every way but the actual finality of death.     living this way leaves no room for things like redemption.     you’re either guilty or innocent,  savable or irredeemable,  evil or prove yourself righteous enough to judge what is.     being robin showed dick most evil can’t be redeemed,  only punished before it can do any more harm.     it’s a reactive sense of justice that leaves no room for confronting why it exists to begin with.     it’s animal,  base survival,  asking the bare minimum of what life is willing give.     begging god to throw you a bone and get you out alive long enough to squash your enemies before they can hurt anyone else like they did you.     no bargaining,  no fixing the circumstances that pumps these perpetrators out like a factory,  just a clinging to the life rafts left in the wake of them.

in a way,  the world is safer like this.     it’s an easier pill to swallow,  especially once dick considers himself irredeemable.     the only option is to stop trying to fix the world altogether,  all or nothing,  playing judge or complete abstention.     the pressure to try and fix evil is too much to even think about,  too heavy if he himself is un - fixable.     dick either swoops in to save the helpless or punish the guilty,  and after all the punishing he’s enacted,  it’s a dangerous question to ask,  if something could’ve been done to reach someone before he cracked their skulls in,  maimed their bodies.     when he himself crossed the imaginary line of morality he created as a symbol of justice by abandoning tony zucco to die,  he did it because he was embittered and volatile,  out of control to even himself and reveling in the damage he dealt.     when he learned the world was corrupt,  he was too young and the event was too traumatic to be anything other than senseless to him,  and bruce’s own grieving process only kindled this.     there was no mercy,  no room to understand the brutality,  just an equal and opposite reaction.     and when he felt like he fell from grace,  he extended the same capacity for understanding to himself.     when confronting the rest of the evil in the world,  it’s easier to project this onto the people he hurts in a new kind of never - ending cycle that does nothing to try and cure harm,  but simply judge it.

it requires a level of kindness for oneself,  to consider that the worst parts of him were born out of the desperate need of a child for the world be fair when it just isn’t.     that maybe anyone can be turned into a weapon like he was,  just without billionaires willing to take them in and give them direction.     and if even with that,  dick turned out the way he did  ;  all serrated edges just waiting to cut into someone,  surely the worst of gotham alone is elementary.

robin,  much like batman itself,  is a symbol donned by orphaned vengeance.     it’s only once dick burns his bridges with robin that he’s able to create something new from it’s ashes that allows a greater purpose,  and furthermore a greater understanding of it  ;  one that allows shades of gray to come out of his black and white world.

[adriennemareebrown]

what do we do with unthinkable thoughts?

who are we in our unthinkable thinking moments?

how do we adapt together if the clues to our next pivot are unthinkable?

maybe sharing these unthinkable thoughts will help?

i’ll start with the scariest unthinkable thought for me, which is that maybe we are in a state of collective suicidal ideation – the state of thinking about, even planning, the end of us. i have thought this thought many times, for years.

i have ideated suicide in the past, thought it didn’t much matter if i was here or not, and so it didn’t much matter how i treated myself or others. when i was in that phase of ambiguous commitment to life, i took risks with my mind and body that i couldn’t imagine taking now. i practiced cynicism and hopelessness, as if they were the measures of humor, of intelligence. it was a brief phase of my life, but during that time i believed in nothing.

i tried to exit.

i then had to choose life from deep within me. that’s why i’m still here. i want to live. i want to want to live. i think everyone chooses to move towards life or away from it, though some don’t realize that they are making the choice. capitalism makes it hard to see your own direction.

as i have watched the world respond to the pandemic, the borders between nations shift meaning in my mind. i can see which countries choose life, and which don’t. which countries have a majority life-minded citizenship, which countries/regions elect leaders who care for them. which countries pivot at the highest governmental level to protect their people, to guide their people to protect themselves – places with a variety of economies and exposure have found ways to move towards life.

i wonder about the movements in those countries, what it might feel like to live and organize in a place that chooses life.

choosing life means being able to admit we are wrong when new information presents itself about the dangers around and amongst us.

choosing life means committing to the adaptations to stay alive, rather than the stubbornness to stay the same.

the u.s., as a nation, does not choose, or love, life. not yet, and possibly never before now.

other nations, many amongst the most developed in the world, initially shrugged at COVID-19. then they adapted.

the u.s. response has been more egregious than a shrug; it’s been a flagrant disregard, running towards a category five pandemic tornado. it’s meant that those of us who want to live are watching in horror as the mutating coronavirus fills in the pre-existing grooves of collective suicidal ideation and the resistance of those who love life – with climate deniers and corporate polluters on one side, environmental and climate justice movements on the other. white supremacists and patriarchs on one side, solidarity movements in race, ethnicity, class, gender, ability and sexuality arenas on the other.

we are a nation not divided but torn – pulled towards life and pulled towards death.

when i get that torn feeling within, which in recent years comes very rarely, in twinges and whisps, i now recognize it as the suicidal tendency in me. it’s not the truth, not the only truth, not my truth, not the choice i want to make. but the tendency is wiley, using the voices of people i love to make itself heard. i have to be vigilant, listen between the lines, ask: who would benefit from my absence? who benefits from my self-doubt?

our nation has a tendency towards its own destruction, a doubt of its right to exist, that is rooted in our foundation.

i think our movements struggle inside this larger national suicidal tendency – we want to grow, but at the same time some of us don’t believe we will all get there, or get anywhere better, in time. that we can’t, and won’t, put forth the effort.

maybe the idea of our future generations experiencing peace and abundance is not enough to keep us going.

maybe we just need some more immediate signs of life.

maybe we are terrified.

i, we, have to be able to discern what is me/us, and what is fear.

which leads to my next unthinkable thought: do i really know the difference between my discernment and my fear?

my dear friend Malkia teaches me that there is the fear intended to save your life, vs fear intended to end it. what i mean by discernment is the set of noticings, fears, wisdoms, deductions, and gut tremblings that want to save, or even just improve, my life, versus the fear that makes me unable to do anything, which makes me unable to draw on my life force to take action.

do i think i am being discerning when i am actually frozen in place, scared to change?

am i too scared of standing out from the crowd to pause and discern right action?

am i acting from terror?

am i able to discern a decision or action that makes sense?

i was in italy when the pandemic really became clear as a threat to my well-being. i went to one of the places i felt at home. and once i got there, i again found myself freezing, in denial of next moves, as everyone asked me where i was and when i was going home-home or elsewhere.

in my frozen state i would hear just a bit of the news, the new numbers of crisis, and shake my head at the idiots in office, and then numb back out. having quickly identified who i blamed, i was even less able to feel any agency in me. i froze and delayed and froze until i was overwhelmed by the inquiries.

then i had an excellent therapy session where i noticed:

oh. i am afraid. i am afraid that the pandemic is on the rise everywhere and i am going to leave safety for a dangerous unknown. oh! i don’t know what to do!

as soon as i acknowledged i was afraid i was able to move into discernment. my fear became data – i am afraid because the numbers are clear that i am in a safer place than any of the locations i am considering going to. i should stay put, not because i am afraid, but because, as my fear is actually screaming on behalf of my informed intuition, this is the best place to be in this moment.

my fear made me freeze until i had to move. therapy helped me notice i was afraid, deepen my breath, and return to discernment.

i see the same vacillation between fear and discernment in our movements right now, with no therapist in sight.

we are afraid of being hurt, afraid because we have been hurt, afraid because we have caused hurt, afraid because we live in a world that wants to hurt us whether we have hurt others or not, just based on who we are, on any otherness from some long-ago determined norm. supremacy is our ongoing pandemic. it partners with every other sickness to tear us from life, or from lives worth living.

so we stay put and scream into the void, moving our rage across the internet like a tornado that, without discernment, sucks up all in its path for destruction.

our emotions and need for control are heightened during this pandemic – we are stuck in our houses or endangering ourselves to go out and work, terrified and angry at the loss of our plans and normalcy, terrified and angry at living under the oppressive rule of an administration that does not love us and that is racist and ignorant and violent. grieving our unnecessary dead, many of whom are dying alone, unheld by us. we are full of justified rage. and we want to release that rage. and one really fast and easy way to do this is what i experience as a salem witch trial, a false bid for justice, or the even faster method of lynching.

before i move on, i need to acknowledge that these are extreme terms, terms that refer to systems of death. i know that i am speaking of a social destruction, a significantly less extreme consequence – and i am trying to place my finger on a feeling of punitive justice unleashed in our movements.

in our movements, this feeling of punitive justice comes in the wake of call outs of leaders or those with some increased exposure or access. in the past week i have seen people called out for embodying white supremacy in the workplace, for causing repeated or one-time sexual harm, for physical, emotional or digital abuse, for appropriation of ideas and images, for patriarchy, for ableism, for being dishonest, for saying harmful things a decade ago, for doing things that were later understood as harm – for embodying all of the pain that supremacy holds. the call outs generally share one side of what’s happened and then call for immediate consequences. and within a day, the call out is everywhere, the cycle of blame and shame activated, and whoever was called out has begun being punished.

we are afraid, and we think it will assuage our fears and make us safer if we can clarify an enemy, a someone outside of ourselves who is to blame, who is guilty, who is the origin of harm. we can get spun into such frenzy in our fear that we don’t even realize we are deploying the master’s tools.

ah, audre, come in.

we’ve always known lynch mobs are a master’s tool. meaning: moving as an angry mob, sparked by fear (often unfounded or misguided) with the power to issue instant judgment and instant punishment. these are master’s tools.

we in movements for justice didn’t create lynch mobs. we didn’t create witch trials. we didn’t create this punitive system of justice. we didn’t create the state, we didn’t choose to be socialized within it. we want to dismantle these systems of mass harm, and i know that most of us have no intention of ever mimicking state processes of navigating justice.

the master’s tools feel good to use, groove in the hand easily from repeated use and training. but they are often blunt and senseless.

unless we have a true analysis of abolition and dismantling systems of oppression, we will not realize what’s in our hands, we will never put the master’s tools down and figure out what our tools are and can be.

oh – but you can’t say it’s a salem witch trial if it’s all Black and Brown and queer and trans people doing it…

oh – you can’t call it a lynching, because of the power dynamics! it’s a move against someone with more power.

but then – my third unthinkable thought – why does it feel like that? why do our movements more and more often feel like angry mobs moving against ourselves? and what is at stake because of it? why does it feel like someone pointing at someone else and saying: that person is harmful! and with no questions or process or time or breath, we are collectively punishing them?

sometimes we even do it with the language of transformative justice: claiming that we are going to give them room to grow. they need to disappear completely to be accountable. we are publicly shaming them so that they will learn to be better.

underneath this logic i hear: we are dunking her in the water to see if she drowns, because if she drowns then we know she wasn’t a witch. we are hanging him from the tree because then we can pretend we have exorcised ‘bad’ from our town. we are lynching to affirm our rightness.

which isn’t to say that some of the accused aren’t raging white supremacists in movement clothing. or abusers who have slipped through the fingers of accountability. or shady in some other way.

which isn’t to say that a public accounting of harm, and consequences, aren’t necessarily the correct move.

which isn’t to say we don’t believe survivors. because we must.

but how do we believe survivors and still be abolitionist? and still practice transformative justice?

to start with, i have been trying to discern when a call out feels powerful, like the necessary move, versus when it feels like the witch trial/lynch mob energy is leading.

it feels powerful when there have been private efforts for accountability. it feels powerful when survivors are being supported. it feels necessary when the accused has avoided accountability, particularly (but not exclusively) if they have continued to cause harm. it feels necessary when the accused person has significantly more power than the accuser(s) and is using that power to avoid accountability. it feels powerful when the demand is process and consequence based.

it feels like a lynch mob when there are no questions asked. when the survivor’s healing takes a back seat. when there is no attempt to have a private process. when there is no time between accusation and the call for consequences. and when the only consequence is for the accused to cease to exist. when the accused is from one or more oppressed identities. when it feels performative. when the person accused of causing harm does what the survivor/crowd demands, but we keep pulling up the rope.

no inquiry, no questions, no acceptance of accountability, no jury, no time for the learning and unlearning necessary for authentic change…just instant and often unsatisfactory consequences.

a moment on this: one of the main demands i see in call outs is for a public apology. to expect a coherent authentic apology from someone who has been forcibly removed from power or credibility feels like a set up. usually they issue some pr sounding thing and we use that paper as more fuel for the fire at their feet.

i have seen the convoluted denial-accountability-nonapology message from many an accused harm doer, especially when physical or sexual harm is involved. sometimes they are claiming innocence, sometimes they are admitting to some harm, rarely at the level of the accusation. sometimes they say they tried to have a process but it didn’t work, or they were denied. who knows what they mean by process, who knows if the accuser was ready for a process, who knows what actually happened between them, the relational context of the instance or pattern of harm, who knows?

the truth about sexual assault and rape and patriarchy and white supremacy and other abuses of power is that we are swimming in them, in a society that has long normalized them, and that they often play out intimately.

the truth is, sometimes it takes a long time for us to realize the harm that has happened to us.

and longer to realize we have caused harm to others.

the truth is, it isn’t unusual to only realize harm happened in hindsight, with more perspective and politicization.

but there’s more truth, too.

the additional truth is, right now we have the time.

the additional truth is, even though we want to help the survivor, we love obsessing over and punishing ‘villains’. we end up putting more of our collective attention on punishing those accused of causing harm than supporting and centering the healing of survivors.

the additional truth is, we want to distance ourselves from those who cause harm, and we are steeped in a punitive culture which, right now, is normalizing a methodology of ‘punish first, ask questions later’, which is a witch trial, lynching, master’s tool methodology. which, because we are in the age of social media, we now have a way to practice very publicly.

supremacy is the original pandemic, an infectious disease that quietly roots into each of us. we might have supremacy due to race, citizenship, gender, class, ableism, age, access, fame, or other areas where we feel justified to cause harm without consequence, sometimes without even realizing we’ve caused harm, because supremacy is a numbing and narrowing disease.

i want us to let go of the narrowness of innocence, widen our understanding of how harm moves through us. i want us to see individual acts of harm as symptoms of systemic harm, and to do what we can to dismantle the systems and get as many of us free as possible.

often a call out comes because the disease has reached an acute state in someone, is festering in hiding, is actively causing harm. i want us to see the difference between the human and the disease, to see what we are afraid of, in others and in ourselves, and discern a path that actually addresses the root of our justified fears.

this is not a case against call outs – there is absolutely a need for certain call outs – when power is greatly imbalanced and multiple efforts have been made to stop ongoing harm, when someone accused of harm won’t participate in community accountability processes, the call out is a way of pulling an emergency brake.

but it should be a last option. the consequences of being called out at this point are extremely dire and imprecise. the presence of infiltration in our movements is so documented and prevalent. call outs are an incredible modern tool for those who are not committed to movements to use against those having impact.

right now calling someone out online seems like first/only option for a lot of people.

i can’t help but wonder who benefits from movements that engage in public infighting, blame, shame and knee jerk call outs? i can’t help but see the state grinning, gathering all the data it needs, watching us weaken ourselves. meanwhile, the harm continues.

i don’t find it satisfying, and i don’t think it is transformative to publicly call people out for instant consequences with no attempt at a conversation, mediation, boundary setting or a community accountability process with a limited number of known participants.

it doesn’t make sense to say ‘believe all survivors’ if we don’t also remember that most of us are survivors, which includes most people who cause harm. what we mean is we are tired of being silenced, dismissed, powerless in our pain, hurt over and over. yes. but being loud is different from being whole, or even being heard, being cared for, being comforted, being healed. being loud is different from being just. being able to destroy is different from being able to generate a future where harm isn’t happening all around us.

we are terrified of how widespread and active harm is, and it makes us want to point the finger and quickly remove those we can identify as bad. we want to protect each other from those who cause harm.

many of us seem to worry that if we don’t immediately jump on whatever mob wagon has pulled up in our dms, that we will be next to be called out, or called a rape apologist or a white person whisperer or an internalized misogynist, or just disposed of for refusing to group think and then group act. online, we perform solidarity for strangers rather than engaging in hard conversations with comrades.

we are fearful of taking the time to be discerning, because then we may have to recognize that any of us could be seen as harmdoers. and when we are discerning, when we do step up to say wait, let’s get understanding here, we risk becoming the new target, viewed as another accomplice to harm instead of understood as a comrade in ending harm.

perhaps, most dangerously, we are, all together now, teetering on the edge of hopelessness. collective suicidal ideation, pandemic burnout, 45-in-office burnout, climate catastrophe burnout and other exhaustions have us spent and flailing, especially if we are caught in reactive loops (which include the culture of multiple daily call outs) instead of purposeful adaptations. some of us are losing hope, tossed by the tornado, ungrounded and uprooted by the pace of change, seeking something tangible we can do, control, hold, throw away.

the kind of callouts we are currently engaging in do not necessarily think about movements’ needs as a whole. movements need to grow and deepen, we need to ‘transform ourselves to transform the world’*, to ‘be transformed in the service of the work’**. movements need to become the practice ground for what we are healing towards, co-creating. movements are responsible for embodying what we are inviting our people into. we need the people within our movements, all socialized into and by unjust systems, to be on liberation paths. not already free, but practicing freedom every day. not already beyond harm, but accountable for doing our individual and internal work to end harm, which includes actively working to gain awareness of the ways we can and have harmed each other, and ending those cycles in ourselves and our communities.

knee jerk call outs say: those who cause harm cannot change. they must be eradicated. the bad things in the world cannot change, we must disappear the bad until there is only good left.

but one layer under that, what i hear is:

we cannot change.

we do not believe we can create compelling pathways from being harm doers to being healed, to growing.

we do not believe we can hold the complexity of a gray situation.

we do not believe in our own complexity.

we can only handle binary thinking: good/bad, innocent/guilty, angel/abuser, black/white, etc.

it is a different kind of suicide, to attack one part of ourselves at a time. cancer does this, i have seen it – oh it’s in the throat, now it’s in the lungs, now it’s in the bones. when we engage in knee jerk call outs and instant consequences with no process, we become a cancer unto ourselves, unto movements and communities. we become the toxicity we long to heal. we become a tool of harm when we are trying to be, and i think meant to be, a balm.

oh unthinkable thoughts. now that i have thought you, it becomes clear to me that all of you are rooted in a singular longing: i want us to want to live.

i want us to want to live in this world, in this time, together.

i want us to love this planet and this species, at this time.

i want us to see ourselves as larger than just individuals randomly pinging around in a world that will never care for us.

i want us to see ourselves as a murmuration of creatures who are, as far as we know right now, unique in all the universe. each cell, each individual body, itself a unique part of this unique complexity.

i want us not to waste the time we have together.

i want us to look at each other with the eyes of interdependence, such that when someone causes harm, we find the gentle parent inside of us who can use a voice of accountability, while also bringing curiosity – ‘why did you cause harm? do you know? do you know other options? apologize.’ that we can set boundaries that don’t require the disappearance of other survivors. that we can act towards accountability with the touch of love. that when someone falls behind, we can use a parent’s voice of discipline while also picking them up and carrying them for a while if needed.

i want us to adapt from systems of oppression and punishment to systems of uplifting and transforming.

i want us to notice that this is a moment when we need to choose life, not surrender to the incompetence and hopelessness of our national leadership.

i want us to be discerning.

i want our movement to feel like a vibrant, accountable space where causing harm does not mean you are excluded immediately and eternally from healing, justice, community or belonging.

i want us to grow lots and lots of skill at holding the processes by which we mend the wounds in our communities and ourselves.

i want satisfying consequences that actually end cycles of harm, generate safety and deepen movement.

i want us to hold Black humanity to the highest degree of protection, even when we have caused harm. i want us to see each other’s trauma-induced behavior as ancestral and impermanent, even as we hold each other accountable.

i want us to be particularly rigorous about holding complexity and accountability well for Black people in our movement communities who are already struggling to keep our heads above water and build trust and move towards life under the intersecting weights of white supremacy, racialized capitalism, police brutality, philanthropic competition culture, and lack of healing support.

i never want to see us initiate processes for Black accountability where those who are not invested in Black life can see it, store it, weaponize it. replace Black in that sentence with any other oppressed peoples and i still feel the same way. it is not strategic, and, again, it is rarely satisfying.

i want us to ask who benefits from our hopelessness, and to deny our oppressors the satisfaction of getting to see our pain. i want them to wonder how we foment such consistent and deep solidarity and unlearning. i want our infiltrators to be astounded into their own transformations, having failed to tear us apart.

i want us to acknowledge that the supremacy and suicidal ideation and hopelessness and harm are everywhere, and make moves that truly allow us to heal into wholeness.

because against all odds in space and time? we. are. winning.

we are winning in spite of the tsunami of pressures against us. we are moving towards life in spite of everything that wants us to give up.

we in movement must learn to choose life even in conflict, composting the bad behaviors while holding the beating hearts.

choosing life includes asking: do i have the necessary information to form an opinion? do i have the time to seek understanding? what does the survivor need? did a conversation/process already happen? is a conversation/process possible? how do we be abolitionist while gaining accountability here? who benefits from me doubting that movement can hold this? who could hold this well? what will end the cycle of harm here?

we must learn to do this before there is no one left to call out, or call we, or call us.

….

thank you deeply to shira hassan and malkia devich cyril for loving feedback on this piece.

* grace lee Boggs ** mary hooks

[sasorikigai]

Send a muse + an ending || @heamatic​ || accepting 

GOOD END- The ideal end to my muse’s story where everything is resolved and they can live a good life.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥|| The Seraph’s excoriated skin reveals the surface of deadened, hardened nerves, where wakefulness of Hanzo Hasashi’s pristine smoothness persists. Webwork of burning tensions forever grafted into bone lifting up like it would a curse under blessing. While the Commander’s death wasn’t particularly heroic, the martyrhood of his life, also specific domicile of his body, heart and soul threatened as encouraged death just took its place outside of his house. His life had been highly prone to violence, yet there would no longer be a dedicated stratum of livid bruises and healing wounds, as bubbling surge of choking rust and ash would transform and transcend into celestial hardships. 

Deathly throes of his past may be still embedded upon the charged intensity of his gaze, but how the scintillating stars collide upon his dark amber. Epiphanies of strenuous conquest without measure was an impossibility, as clashing, yet coalescing darkness and halcyon light became the very spreading of his humanity, even capable of striking down the Almighty God, granting him the reality and finality of death. Despite proper justice best served on cold dish, 

Once-shrouded in skull fragments of putrescent death lifts, as does the drained meat of decay and absence of life as the incandescent flesh delicately braced and adhered to his skull. His appearance regal and splendor in blinding radiance, the once-lost galaxies spilled out into the celestial heavens where numerous hearts had been condemned contained back in the expanse of his ever-encompassing plumage of pristine white, bubbling with magnanimous hearth of his very fire. The Seraph stands between rivers of time and oceans of regret, and attempts to merge the righteous designs as he relentlessly strikes down the mounted overwhelming chaos and disarray. Imbued with equilibrium of justice and second chances, Hanzo Hasashi’s sacrificial descension towards the Nether will only open the expanse of his awareness. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥|| 

TRUE END- Bittersweet ending. Some things go right, other things go wrong. Some sacrifices have to be made, but most people are happy in the end.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥|| The omnipotent God’s destructive, dismantling power becomes the surgeon’s scalpel revealing the Seraph’s organs; humanity says karma always comes back around and maybe it’s not the case, but does he really condone the suffering of others for his own satisfaction when he has made countless mistakes even to get here? Hanzo Hasashi may have claimed the crimson throne in Red Sea of death, leaving its mark with annihilating grace - unmasking nature’s resplendent cure against a rotting nest of blackened worms of the crossway between the Nether and the pathway leading back to life. Even as he met his own gruesome death, the Seraph has never institute desperate falsehood upon the dead in the face of an unforgiving promises. 

The tryst of the Seraph and the Cherub was revealed, and before the dead of winter, the perilous paroxysm petrified the lesser angel and rendered her nothing left to spare in liquefaction and scattering of cinderdust and ashes, filled and imbued with devotion and rancor towards the fucking Almighty God, he’d willingly sacrifice himself for the greater good, as the warm cavity of his insides disintegrated by atom-splitting agony, as veins were windswept through event horizon of his light and darkness colliding. The Ouroboros of highs and lows ebb and tide as he remains suspended up in the air, utterly lost and roaming in senseless hatred. The perfect infected oblivion of powerlessness and incapability bound. The stigmata paints through the blinding, bone-cleaving deconstruction and dissolution, as storm in pure form, molded out of ruin of the world’s past, unconsciously render Hanzo in a dismembered, displayed meat.

Millennia and eons’ stretch would pass, and necrophagous hellions of the Nether continues to devour and ravage through his undead, eternally suffering being. Potent sulphuric odor clings to his gnawed bones and ravenously ravaged meat, as his presence would embody something indescribably beyond all violent tendencies and brutal unions that wasn’t meant to be rendered and engraved on the path of the world’s unfurling. Perhaps the Seraph was meant to become nothing more, but a residuum of devourment, as the primevalism of his blood spilled and strewn blood would further haunt him in the putrefaction of regret or discretion. But such was the Heaven’s intended course, as power was never meant to change hands and those who defied as sacrilegious acts would be punished, to instill and terrorize the angels in nascent fear and complete devotion and revelment. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥|| 

[scrawnydutchman]

Why Nite Owl is the Best Character in ‘Watchmen’

Many art forms over the years have had difficulty finding the respect they deserve when they first start out. It’s only natural; new ideas tend to get the shaft by older generations afraid of change “corrupting the country” because apparently centuries of social and scientific innovation can be brought crumbling down by some little yellow cartoon kid saying “don’t have a cow, man”. Every form of artistic expression has had to battle censorship, unwarranted criticism and senseless conspiracy in their day, be it music, film, comedy, animation, video games. Even BOOKS were condemned as tools for evil by the earliest philosophers of human history.

“[Writing] will create forgetfulness in the learners’ souls, because they will not use their memories; they will trust to the external written characters and not remember of themselves.” - Socrates

Comic books are no different. Matter of fact, they might just be the most prominent example of this. They’ve been credited time and time again for influencing youth to a life of crime and ignorance, especially in probably the most infamous case of anti-comic book propaganda, Friedric Wertham’s The Seduction of the Innocent, which made such bombastic claims as suggesting Batman and Robin are encouraging the youth to engage in homosexual affairs (different time folks, different time. Fun fact though; that’s why Batgirl was invented, to give Batman a girlfriend for his time to dispute such claims).

*Though to be fair, when you read these hilarious panels out of context you can sort of see some brow-raising implications. This is why context matters.*

But the upside to the battles every medium faces is that eventually along will come a masterpiece that breaks the mold. A revolutionary bit of literary work that changes the way we look at the medium long after it premieres. When it comes to comic books, if you ever find somebody telling you it’s not real art or it’s just kid stuff, you tell them to read motherfucking WATCHMEN. Written by Alan Moore and illustrated by Dave Gibbons, Watchmen is a timelessly cryptic tale of washed up former heroes, godlike beings with humanity slipping away and debates on proper ethics, all under the tension of a cold war stricken America where everyone feels like they can die at any moment. The story has went on to be recognized as one of New York times 100 greatest novels in 2005, joining the ranks of Catcher in the Rye and Clockwork Orange. And it’s praise is rightfully earned. The compelling murder mystery, the growing tension between military forces, the intricate detail of an alternate history Cold War, the play on themes like science, religion, morality and nostalgia, all brought together through beautiful silver age inspired artwork and masterful frame composition that makes the reader feel like their watching a movie.

Of course, being such a classic in the comic book world, it has equally iconic characters, which are all very original (ironic since they’re all basically reskinned Charlton Comics characters invented by Steve Ditko). The most commonly favorited and analyzed among fans being Rorschach, the conspiracy buff ruthless vigilante who is the black-and-white moral compass (though he’s not nearly as black and white as people give him credit for, we’ll get to that in a bit), Dr. Manhattan, the all powerful allegory for both God AND the atom bomb who is ever so slowly losing his grip on his own humanity, and the Comedian, the nihilistic, alcoholic, sex offender soldier who sees life as a monstrous joke and dies not having the last laugh. Those characters are all well and good, but there is one character I’ve grown particularly fond of whom I don’t think gets enough recognition for just how fascinating his dilemma and growth is. That is of course Daniel Dreiberg, the every-man turned superhero Nite Owl.

In order to fully appreciate Nite Owl, we’ll need to recap some context from the story. I’ve already touched upon how one of the major themes of the story is Nostalgia. After all, nearly every character in this story is distraught about the oncoming terror of the Cold War getting hot and they all want to remember a simpler time when it was clear who the bad guy was and what to do about it. Nobody embodies this theme more then Dan Dreiberg. He’s had a passion for crime fighting since he was very young, so much so that he used his fathers inheritance to develop crime fighting gear and tech and took on the mantle of Nite Owl after the original, Hollis Mason, had long since retired. Many of the other characters only became heroes because they were thrown into their situations by one force or another, but Dan had a longing to be a problem solver who wanted to defend the innocent and uphold the law in the most fun and dramatic way possible. When he wore the goggles he felt like there was no problem too large for him to handle. He was hopeful and he was optimistic.

“No matter how black it got, when I looked through these goggles . . . everything was clear as day.” - Ch. 7, pg 9, panel 8-9

Of course, after the Keenes act passed which outlawed vigilante justice, Dan was forced to begrudgingly hang up the cape. His confidence and vigor was seemingly forever trapped down in his basement, collecting dust. He became overweight. He grew timid and insecure. He let Rorschach walk all over him and abuse their friendship when they used to be trusted partners. He lived on in denial of what he truly wanted. He loved Laurie Juspeczyk for years but never confessed it, and even when he had the chance to embrace Laurie in sex he felt impotent and out of place. The dire feeling of living without meaning haunted his every move, and he was tired of being held on into a life of mediocrity.

“It’s this war. The feeling that it’s unavoidable. It makes me feel so powerless. So impotent.” - Ch. 7, pg 19, panel 8-9

It’s only when he puts the mask back on and willingly breaks the law holding him down that he starts to feel happy again. He begins to smile, he feels more positive about what to do about the cold war hanging over his head and Rorschach’s mask killer conspiracy. He’s finally able to satisfy Laurie sexually, and he even starts standing up to Roschach for all the shit he puts him through.

“I feel so confident it’s like I’m on fire. And all the mask killers, all the wars in the world, they’re just cases--problems to solve” - Ch. 7, pg 28, panel 5

“Listen, I've had it! Who the hell do you think you are? You live off people while insulting them, nobody complains because they think you’re a goddamned lunatic . . . you know how hard it is, being your friend?” - Ch. 10, pg 16, panel 5

The reason why I appreciate this so much is because Nite Owl embodies why we love superheroes: because they ARE problem solvers. They DO take on larger then life challenges, and  they always find a way to put evil in it’s place. They enable us to have a more optimistic outlook and they prove that not only is doing the right thing possible, but it can be really fun too! Readers feel more empowered and enthusiastic when reading about the latest adventures of their heroes, because suddenly huge problems aren’t so scary anymore. It’s why comic books were so popular as anti Nazi and Japanese propaganda in WW2 and why superheroes skyrocketed in popularity throughout the decades of the cold war.

Nite Owl loves everything old fashioned. It’s why his childhood hero was the first Nite Owl Hollis Mason and why he spends so much of his time trapped in the past, always talking to Hollis about the old days and constantly visiting his basement to ponder them. He even demonstrates his longing for older times in extremely subtle ways, like his personal taste in music is all classic stuff and he’s out of touch on modern lingo.

“Oh well, mostly I’m into Billie Holiday, Nellie Lutcher, Louis Jordan . . . stuff like that.” - Ch. 7, pg 10, panel 3.

Generally speaking Dan’s dilemma in the story and his evolution as a character is a lot more underplayed and nuance then other character arcs, which I actually really appreciate. The book is fantastic, but I often felt like for other characters they basically just spell out their own character synopsis for the reader and leave little to the imagination. Rorschach and Dr. Manhattan especially had this issue in my opinion. Their character specific chapters didn’t rely very much on context clues or allowing the panels to tell the story (except for in certain instances), instead they basically just monologue to themselves on what they’re all about and why they do what they do. Plus as I stated briefly before I feel like Rorschach is a bit overrated, especially when they describe him as “seeing morality in black and white”. He’s made more then a few compromises and weird judgements in the story. There’s the more understandable example of when he refuses to beat the woman who made false assault allegations on him on tv because her kids were watching, but then there’s also the time where he describes the Comedians rape attempt on the first silk spectre as a “moral lapse”. Since when does the “black and white morality” character believe in moral lapses? Especially ones for topics as touchy as rape? pages later he breaks a guy in a bars set of fingers because the dude said he smelled bad behind his back. So let me get this straight: attempted rape is a moral lapse, but somebody saying you smell bad behind your back is punishable by finger breaking?? Seems to me Rorschach cares more about his reputation in the underworld then actually maintaining black and white morality. He even admits how much his reputation matters to him.

“Can’t. Serious Business. Slur on reputation.” - Ch. 10, pg 6, panel 5

But anyway, I've gone on enough tangents in this post. My point is that this graphic novel is phenomenal and a must-read for fans wanting to get into comic books or even literature in general. I just wanted to talk about an aspect not appreciated often enough, and how excellently it’s portrayed. There’s a reason Nite Owl is my favorite character and my favorite chapter is “A Brother to Dragons”. He articulates the theme of nostalgia perfectly and is a wonderful allegory for the reader and every man just trying to find an outlet for his problems. Plus he brings some much needed positivity and relief into an otherwise mercilessly dark and pessimistic book. It’s a shame Nite Owl all too often gets the shaft, even in his own story arc in the Before Watchmen series (which I have a bit of a distaste for because the artwork is way too layered in thick sketchy linework to be appealing and sometimes Rorschach just straight up hijacks the story). Hopefully this post will bring him some much deserved recognition.

[filmista]

Blood, Sweat and Tears: Martyrs (2008, France)

France is notorious for its brutal horror movies, of which the most famous or shall I say infamous is ‘Martyrs’, highly controversial, it is a film that has been called deep by some as they say it critiques senseless violence, by directly, mercilessly confronting us with it. 

Or that it shows the phenomenon of how some people abuse the fact that they have more power over someone, whether that's physical, mental or social and actually get away with it. 

Yes, it shows us a cruel world where people can commit heinous acts and not be punished ever, or they only are after their reign of terror has gone on for years... And that's why I think it's so scary because that world exists whether you want to be confronted with it or not, it's a film that truly does wake up the survival instinct, part of me simply wanted to run out the room a few times.

Others say that it's a piece of torture porn trash made by someone with a sick mind (the director, Pascal Laugier suffered from severe depression when he wrote the script) that it's an inhuman film and that it is unbearable, true torture to watch. All these various statements about it have for quite some time created a sort of morbid fascination towards the film in my mind though.

Just a sort of curiosity, because often with things that are polarising it's for a reason, be that a good or bad reason. Some people say that 'Martyrs' is a film with absolutely nothing redeeming that you needn't waste your time with it, others say that it's a film with cruel acts yet also occasional acts of extraordinary kindness, that it's human in its cruelty. 

I've been told by plenty of people that know I'm a horror fan that I should watch this, that it is one of those horror films that you just have to have seen in your life and one of those film experiences you just have to have had, you just have to see it; to believe how impossibly cruel it is, just to give an idea it has supposedly made people in audiences faint and vomit...

As I've said all of that did create some sort of morbid fascination, but it also made me nervous and admittedly slightly scared. I like horror, but there's a limit to what each of us can take right? What if I got to see a spectacle that I would never ever recover from? But then again people have watched it and they have survived so I finally decided to submit myself to it. Newsflash: I am not deceased. Thought I was gonna be a few times though.

Filmmakers like Pascal Laugier don't have it easy. It is to be expected that production companies and distributors will not be eager to work with you if you turn in a script like that of 'Martyrs'. It's at least as hard a job to get actors and actresses ready to work with you on your brainchild.

Laugier sent the script to a number of candidates but got the steady return with the announcement not to bother them with such a sick mess. Eventually, he found them, two main actresses, who were prepared to go out of their way and to the limit. It became Mylene Jampanoï (Lucie) and Morjana Alaoui (Anna), they play characters that must survive the most horrible torture to eventually become 'martyrs'.

For torture, there is in 'Martyrs'. The film has been rejected by many critics as a protagonist of the torture porn genre, as known for example by Hostel, Haute Tension, L'interieur and numerous Asian productions, but 'Martyrs' has more than the average extreme horror movie in which sadism is purely filmed for entertainment.

It is not meant to give anyone pleasure, it's not supposed to give the "Oh this is so gross but so fun to watch sentiment" (we all know it) 'Martyr's' is supposed to make you disgusted, it wants to disgust, to induce panic sweats and make your blood run cold, it aims for physical and mental reactions.

The difference is that in most films you are very aware that it is not real thus you're not at all that scared, or you are but there is always that voice of reason that says: "you can always turn it off, it's not real, it's only got a few more minutes left", but 'Martyrs' does a darn good job of almost, almost making you forget it for a while, at least that's how consumed I was watching the film. 

In the above-mentioned films, the victims are usually colourless, characterless puppets, serving only as slaughter cattle, as defenceless clowns who entertain the public with their blood, screams, swearing, moaning and intestines. 

Laugier, however, dives deep into the psyche of his character Lucie. Being saved from the arms of a bizarre sect does not mean she's safe from misery. Her life has become a hell on earth and she seeks fruitless ways to deal with it.

Jampanoi's performance can handle the ordeal: pain, sadness, panic, despair and crazy are all splashing off the screen, they are an assault on the emotions and are far more terrifying than the bloody parts. Alaoui does her best and outdoes herself; impressive as there was a lot being asked of her as a beginning actress. Laugier also plays handily with the expectations and needs of the horror community.

Instead of punishing the perpetrators after the viewer knows what they have done, it begins with revenge and the viewer does not even know if it is justified or not. The script is full of unexpected twists and turns, making the film everything but a crowd pleaser, that being said,  it's very possible that you dear reader might dislike it. Juicy torture scenes are there, but not free-flowing: the director has added the required dose of psychological horror to deliver a cruel film.

'Martyrs' is about the traumatised young woman Lucie, who returns fifteen years after her escape to the house of her abductors. This time, however, she is armed with a shotgun and she is determined to give her abductors a taste of their own medicine. When she stands eye to eye with the people who have mercilessly mistreated her as a child, she does not hesitate one single moment and pulls the trigger instantly.

The story begins with cold sweat inducing panic shots: a half-naked girl is running across of an industrial site, clearly running from someone, clearly running in fear of her life. From this flashback, it becomes clear that it's a memory of Lucie. It turns out she has been severely mistreated, to which the injuries on her body bear the evidence.

The authorities can not figure out where she came from, so they have placed her in an orphanage. In her fifteen years she grows up, she joins forces with Anna, who is also an orphan and becomes her best friend. (Anna wants to be Lucie's lover, but Lucie is too psychologically damaged to be able to return that, she needs love but first most not in that way, she needs someone who can help her sort her mind and calm her fears, Anna does, however, do everything for Lucie). logical since they really are the only ones they have in the world. 

Once grown, Lucie goes looking for sweet revenge. She stumbles across an unsuspecting family and pulls out her shotgun. Ruthlessly, efficiently she shoots them all down. Next Lucie calls Anna and tells her that they were the ones who abused her in the time she was locked up.

However, you can rest assured and believe that, that's not even the tip of the iceberg. 'Martyrs' has so many plots turns that, that does not even give an idea of what the film is about. Too much is happening and your mouth too often falls open from astonishment. However, this is something that you have to see yourself, I just can't describe it. 

One can even wonder if it does the film justice to straightforwardly discuss it in a review. Words alone can not describe what an experience this movie is: 'Martyrs' is horrible, deadly, shocking, violent, merciless, monstrous, insane, macabre, hostile ... yes maybe even malicious.

Yet all these words are lacking. For the reason,  that 'Martyrs' is too much an experience, an experience and, above all, a calculated,  well landed, hard, and painful punch in the face of the viewer. The shock that it leaves is indescribable by a pen.

The roles are filled in by French actresses Morjana Alaoui (Anna) and Mylène Jampanoï. (Lucie) They were pretty unknown actresses at the time because they didn't come out of Hollywood. According to the director, it was difficult to find actresses who wanted to play these roles because of the difficult subject. After reading the script, the ladies must have been convinced and said yes.

They deliver convincing acting, it seems to me that they were heavy roles to play, especially because they have to act so intensely that they really do look pained and desperate. The duo is beaten, kicked, starved and humiliated in a variety of ways. The severe pain they undergo can be read in their faces and it seems as though they are really undergoing the misery. 

This movie is not the French answer to 'Saw' and 'Hostel'. This film goes far beyond that. 'Saw' and 'Hostel' were films with a lot of torture, but resembling an episode of an average children's series compared to this. The difference is that 'Martyrs' itself is a martyrdom to go through. 

You are not safe in your chair looking at others who are tortured but are yourself part of that torture. Therein lies the difference. Even comparing this film with the ones targeted at the American audience is almost a shame (not that they aren't good films, they're just not the same in degree of intensity and can't really be compared) it seems that it once again was Europe that went more risqué, but in this case, it paid off. That being said, the in Europe big fat 18+ rating on the cover is utterly deserved, in America, here’s no doubt in my mind that it’s an R.

What the film is, is an extremely violent view of the world. A film that is still painfully up-to-date. A film that flawlessly embodies what makes us instinctively afraid, it has everything that you're parents have ever warned you about. 

Not that long ago, masked murderers preying on innocent teenagers terrorised us and caused the light to stay on at night. Today, the images of Marc Dutroux and Josef Fritzl are reflected on our collective memory. However, there was rarely a film that depicts this fear so visually and horribly.

Reading that could give the impression that this is a quick shock therapy, creating a sort of macabre circus. There may be some films like 'Saw' and 'Hostel' that to some extent do that, but 'Martyrs' is too intelligent for that.

"Martyrs" is not afraid to throw in, in addition to a lot of current issues some troublesome philosophical questions as well, especially the question of how far we want to go to get to know the truth.

It also turns out to be a question that is being asked directly to the viewer, because how far do you actually want to go to discover how the film ends? The film does not show any mercy and asks for more and more of the viewer's endurance. You’re forgiven if you look away, this film is without question unbearable and utterly heartbreaking...

As mentioned, 'Martyrs' is not ordinary torture porn. It comes much closer to being the Last House on the Left and Texas Chainsaw Massacre of this generation. Just as groundbreaking. Equally shocking. Equally horrible. Equally disgusting. Equally confronting.

As it kept going I got more and more furious, teary eyed and scared all at once It almost made me wanna scream at one point, I couldn’t stand it anymore, it just made wanna get a cold shower, to rinse off all the disgustingness and inhumanity but screaming at a tv is futile right? It made me think: this gross, sick shit should not exist, it should never have been made, ever!!! This kind of was the sentiment at a certain moment:

WHY THE FUCK DOES SOMETHING LIKE THIS EXIST???!!! WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON IN THIS MAN’S MIND???!!!, AND MORE IMPORTANTLY AGAIN FUCKING WHY???!!! AND WHO THE FUCK GETS OFF ON THIS SICK SHIT???!!!

Sorry but I couldn’t control myself, I just had to scream at y’all for a minute, a normal tone does not suffice to express my level of emotion right now. I’m Sorry for all the fucks too... Well not really, but I’m almost sorry for not being sorry. ;)

But you know the horrible, haunting truth I realised then? And that I wish I hadn’t, and almost made me wish I could go back to being an innocent, careless five-year-old girl? When my biggest worry was whether I was gonna get that chocolate cookie I liked so much or not, yeah huge fucking deal...

That almost nothing that happens in Martyrs is impossible. That reality is often crueller than fiction, the human psyche is capable of everything; some human beings are or can be the ultimate monster on the face of the earth, some of us are the monsters under each other’s bed.

But my ultimate conclusion? I’m probably not gonna want to watch it again in this lifetime, it’s already unforgettable, unforgiving, punishing and traumatic enough and that doesn’t even sum it up... This film is disgusting, it simply is. I hate it. I absolutely hate it with every fibre of my being, or maybe I don’t hate the film but what I saw. But that's precisely the reason some part of me liked it as well, it sounds twisted I know but there's a logic behind it: 

Sometimes it's nice to be reminded of the limits of our conscience. How insensitive are we? How far can we let ourselves go? What can we handle? When do we start to wish we could look away? Or wish that we could intervene to make something stop? Even when a part of us realises perfectly well that it's not real... 

When does the mind begin to disconnect fact and fiction? When do you start to feel guilty for perhaps being completely desensitised? For not feeling anything? When do you become ashamed of yourself for that?

When do you wish you had a stronger emotional response? it's also likely that apart from experiencing or questioning yourself about these questions you’ll also find yourself relieved to feel, to be repulsed, to respond humanely. These are all things that intrigue me and maybe that is morbid, and I admit that but I just call it “being interested in the human psyche”. 

'Martyrs' is one of the films that can help you explore that, but still from the safety of your sofa, if you want to stop the ordeal you can, just turn off your TV or take out the Disc of the player. It’s a film that’s very likely to stay with you for a while after watching, and that could give you very strong yes possibly even scary emotions. 

That’s why I’d urge that it’s best to watch it in the afternoon or early evening and not before you go to sleep, and not because you're a child and have to go to bed early (then you shouldn't watch this) but because it’s likely you just might not sleep whatever age you are.

So I’d suggest getting yourself comfortable, making yourself some nice coffee or tea for yourself or whatever your poison is. And if you also wish to lock every window and every door in your house, or if you get the irrepressible urge to look over your shoulder more than once I'm absolutely not judging you! Been there done that. 

'Martyrs' is the kind of film I'd thought I'd never be able to sit trough, and a few years ago I know I wouldn't have been able to and part of me would have said, fuck this shit is gross I don't have to sit through this, I don't want to sit through this! Get it the hell away from me! And if you don't get it the hell away from, me, I'm going to get it the hell away from me. 

It's the kind of film that if I had found someone else watching it would have made me go, eww what the hell are you watching, what is that?! Why are you watching that? That's nasty! What are you getting out of that? Followed by some I don't understand why you're watching that. 

And part of me even if I now can watch it, still feels that way; and that's what I ultimately found rewarding and relieving about it, that it is one of those films that literally puts you face to face with your own humanity, and sometimes that's unpleasant and painful as hell, sometimes it's uncomfortable, confronting; it makes you feel bad, even ashamed. 

Think of coming face to face with a wild animal and being able to observe it safely, yet still being completely blown away by it even overwhelmed by the notion that it is stronger than you and could finish you if it wanted to. 

That's what watching 'Martyrs' felt like for me you're acutely aware of how vulnerable you can be, how fragile, how easily impressions are left on the mind, and how long they can stay there if they go away at all, how quickly you can feel afraid, panicked, repulsed, but also of how strong you are, how much a human mind and body can take before it crumbles. 

The admirable thing in all of this and its ultimate strength lies in the fact, that it always sides with its heroines, everything is seen from their point of view, unlike some horror films it doesn't shift it's point of view into that of the tormentors ever.

The last thing the film would want is that you could summon some kind of sympathy or understanding for these people, as they are utterly inhuman. It explains their actions, but it does not excuse them or make them human, it doesn't go for the classical and cliche "he or she had severe mental problems and just lost it, or something traumatic happened in the past" and that usually gives some sort of catharsis and release you can let go, you can relax, you can breathe. 

This illustrates that some people simply are sadistic without reason because they can and more precisely because they just want to hurt other people for their own pleasure and are very aware of what they are inflicting, they just don't care that is the uncomfortable truth, (two other films that do this exceptionally well are The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Hush).

It forever urges us to sympathise with the heroines to feel, to look at what’s happening to them and to feel it as if it were being done directly to you, and 'Martyr's is one of those rare films that does succeed in transferring what it's characters feel onto the audience, that's one of the reasons that make watching it such an intense, emotional, sometimes very difficult experience. 

We watch not from a distanced lens, but through being close to them, from one of kindness and humanity, to see how cruel the violence is, to find our ability for compassion, our humanity. It’s one of the few films, that have almost made me feel ashamed to be a human being. 

Because it genuinely hurt to see what human beings can do to each other human beings and that it can create that sentiment of true repulsion and at the same compassion gives it more heart and soul than some similar films, very few horror films have made me cry this one I will say without shame is one of them. 

Yet while it is as I said disgusting and I don't really like this film, I really don't, you just don't like 'Martyrs'. You can like what it is trying to convey through its violence, but you very likely won't like what you're seeing, you just won't. 

It is still very well made, it's atmosphere of fear and coldness is meticulously crafted even through its simplicity and it's acting is for the genre simply insanely strong and I truly do mean insanely so, these women are heroines for wanting to act in this.

Even if I could act and got offered who knows how many Dollars for it, I’d probably still not do it, because I’m a scaredy cat, I don't like submitting myself to pain when I don't have to and there’s no doubt that these roles didn’t inflict some kind of mental pain on its actresses.

You see that they must have had truly well-armed convictions, that they truly believed in the power of the film, otherwise you just don't do that to yourself, I just can't believe you would... (unless your name is Leonardo Dicaprio and you’re just dying for the oscar) Or you’re insane. You’d have to just really blindly trust the director or you’d have to be afraid of the person standing in front of you.

I’d say essentially it is an essential film for every true horror fan because it confronts us with our own humanity or a part of our own possible inhumanity and it does it in an extreme way; if you are positively comfortable while watching 'Martyrs' and don’t even flinch once, It’s maybe possible you may need psychological help, or you've just watched one too many horror films, and they finally no longer have any effect whatsoever, but still here's a film where you'll truly feel relieved to be afraid at least once. 

Enough talk now, I do want to include the article that finally made want to face it, The Telegraph considered it the best horror film of the 21st century, I may not necessarily agree entirely but It’s an excellently written article, and I included an another one that I particularly like: 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/film/what-to-watch/martyrs-2008-pascal-laugier/

http://www.btchflcks.com/2014/09/martyrs-female-friendships-can-be-bloody-complex.html#.WPx_GneZMdV

“It's so easy to create a victim, young lady, so easy. You lock someone in a dark room. They begin to suffer. You feed that suffering. Methodically, systematically and coldly. And make it last. Your subject goes through a number of states. After a while, their trauma; that small, easily opened crack, makes them see things that don't exist.”

[vicecityhq]

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: burnt sugar, dead roses, and half-lit cigarettes. With a slight resemblance to BAE JOOHYUN (IRENE) of/the RED VELVET.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

last name, first name: chae sebinn alias: one-winged angel realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Korean, born in Rome age: 300+ date of birth: mid-1600s gender: cis female preferred pronouns: she/her species: succubus occupation: ivory lotus mistress sexual orientation: undecided but ultimately, not straight

VISUAL FILE:

skin color: pale red eye color: golden scars: none piercings: not anywhere one can see with clothes on ;0 tattoos: a giant red dragon on her left thigh hair color: black abnormalities: not really abnormal but she has claw-like nails. Are they acrylics? Who knows horns/ wings/ etc: one enormous, black, dragon-like wing, curled ram-like horns, sharp fangs, transformed form: red eyes, the wing, and a prehensile tail hehe

PERSONAL FILE:

religious belief:  does considering oneself god count as a religion? sins:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / lust  /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath virtues: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility /  patience /  justice known languages: english, korean, latin, among others secrets: there’s literally no reason that she needs to be as fucking crazy as she is. savvies: a great manipulator; she can play to people’s wants and beliefs, willing to do anything (in more ways than one) to obtain power, actually a pretty decent leader

powers & abilities: immortality, lust inducement, kiss of death (gluck gluck 3000 of the soul), Death by Sex, Dream Walking, Enslavement Kiss, Indomitable Sexuality, Lust Magic, Temptation Embodiment.

traits: through, but just. Mean. so mean.

BACKGROUND CHECK:

date of birth: mid-1600s date of death: n/a crime record: she hasn’t gotten caught for anything yet but you know she’s done some shit

Background/Biography:

( TW: death)

BORN TO AN ARISTOCRATIC DEMON FAMILY, CHAE SEBINN HAD IT ALL. SHE WAS THE PRIDE AND JOY OF EVERYONE IN HER LIFE; SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL, SMART, AND SEEMINGLY KIND. HER FAMILY, LIKE MANY OTHER SUPERNATURAL BEINGS DURING HER TIME, LIVED OUT THEIR DAYS SEEMINGLY HUMAN; HER FAMILY WAS ESPECIALLY RARE, GOING SO FAR AS TO RENOUNCE THEIR DEMONIC NATURES SO THAT THEY MIGHT WALK IN PEACE AMONG THE HUMANS.

SEBINN WAS DIFFERENT. WHILE SHE WAS RAISED TO HOLD THE SAME BELIEFS AS HER FAMILY, SHE KNEW SHE WAS SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. SHE DIDN’T WANT TO PLAY AT HUMAN: MALLEABLE, SMALL…WEAK. IT WAS BENEATH HER. SHE WANTED EVERYONE TO KNOW JUST HOW GOOD SHE WAS, AND HOW GREAT SHE COULD BE.

SHE THOUGHT THAT COMMUNICATING THIS TO HER FAMILY WOULD CHANGE THEIR WAYS, BECAUSE SHE WAS MOST LOVED, MOST REVERED, ABOVE ALL IN HER HOUSE. DESPITE THAT, SHE WAS MET WITH CONCERN, WORRY. HER PARENTS TALKED HER OFF THE LEDGE, OR SO THEY’D THOUGHT.

WITHOUT ANY BACKING FROM THE HOUSE, SEBINN WENT SO FAR AS TO SNEAK OFF IN THE NIGHT, COURTING VARIOUS SUITORS AND PLAYING AT GOD WHEN SHE COULD. SHE WENT SO FAR AS TO SEDUCE VARIOUS MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH, CLAIMING TO BE THEIR GOD--THEY DIDN’T KNOW ANY BETTER, AND WITH HER ENHANCED MANIPULATION, ONE BY ONE, THEY HAD FALLEN TO HER FEET.

IT GOT BORING, OVER TIME, HOWEVER; KNOWING PEOPLE COULD SO EASILY SUCCUMB TO HER AND HER WILLS WAS NO FUN, AT LEAST NOT ALONE. OVER THE YEARS, SHE CONTINUED TO TRY AND PRESSURE HER FAMILY INTO JOINING HER IN HER DARK CRUSADE, BUT THEY DIDN’T LISTEN.

SO, SHE KILLED THEM ALL.

FOR A TIME, SHE WENT INTO HIDING, JUMPING FROM CONTINENT TO CONTINENT WITH THE HELP OF HER FAMILY’S MASSIVE FORTUNE, AND PONDERED WHY SHE HAD DONE WHAT SHE’D DONE. IN THE END, SHE CONCLUDED THAT IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN HELPED. THAT THIS WAS THEIR ABSOLUTION, THEIR SALVATION.

SHE HAD KILLED THEM TO SAVE THEM, SHE DECIDED, IF THEY WERE NOT TO COME WITH HER, THEN THEY SHOULD NOT BE PUNISHED FOR IT. TO HER, IT WAS A MERCY. TO EVERYONE ELSE? SENSELESS MURDER, PROBABLY.

EVENTUALLY, SHE FOUND HERSELF AMONG THE WOMEN OF THE COVEN THAT WOULD EVENTUALLY BLOOM INTO AND FOUND THE IVORY LOTUS. SHE WAS STILL YOUNG THEN, HAVING BEEN ADOPTED BY THE WOMEN OF THE CLAN AFTER HAVING SOLD A STORY OF HER LOST HERITAGE AND HER FAMILY THAT HAD BEEN "TRAGICALLY MURDERED". SHE GREW WITH THE COVEN AND EVENTUALLY WITH THE LOTUS, STARTING AS THE LOWEST OF THE LOW.

FOLLOWING THE LOSS OF MANY OF THE HEADS OF POWER IN THE GANG, ALL EYES TURNED TO HER TO BECOME THEIR NEXT LEADER. AND WHILE SHE WAS STILL VERY YOUNG, SHE WATCHED THEIR PETTY PLAYS AT POWER UNFOLD MUCH TO HER DELIGHT. SHE DECIDED THAT IT WOULDN’T BE ANY GOOD TO BE LEFT OUT FROM ALL THE FUN, AND THAT GOD DESERVED HER RIGHTFUL THRONE IN THE KINGDOM OF HER HEAVEN, RIGHT?

WHICH IS HOW SHE FOUND HERSELF NOW, PERCHED UP HIGH AND MIGHTY IN HER GILDED THRONE (WORK CHAIR) IN THE CURSED AGDOEG, FIGHTING A MERCILESS, BRUTAL WAR FOR NOTHING BUT THE FUN OF IT.

FOR SHE WAS ABSOLUTION, FOR SHE WAS SALVATION.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

“I-I don’t know,” her quiet whimper still managed to echo in the quiet room. The incompetence of whoever had landed her here would be paid with their head on a fucking platter. She didn’t need to fucking be here. But it was easier to play along as hapless victim than run from the police. Which was why her record was about as clean as a newborn baby’s.

“It happened so fast… one minute I was walking home from my sister’s apartment--she has the sweetest baby--and the next, I saw some brutes attacking each other outside of the bar!” They weren’t just any brutes, they were members of the other gangs in the city. The smell of hound and fae still tickled at her nose. But she wasn’t supposed to know that; she was supposed to be an innocent by-stander, who got lost in the mess of such a… terrible fight. Giving away information now would be pointless, and also, would make it harder for her to get out scot-free.

She looked up at the officer with wide, teary eyes. “I’m so sorry, it’s been such a long night… may I please go home now?”