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phantoms-lair · 1 year

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A Wolf Among Thieves part 2

Okay, Vajlean wasn't going to be useful here, so the only ones he'd have left to ask was the kids. Something he had expressly NOT wanted to do.

He'd said more than once they were naïve. He'd come to realize it wasn't that they were ignorant of how the world worked, they knew better than most. It was that they refused to accept it so long as they were alive to change it. But in the end they were still kids and they could be naïve enough to not question certain things. Like what being a Persona User could mean.

Zenkichi vividly remembered the first half of his trip into the Kyoto Jail. It was terrifying, ducking around pillars and knowing being seen would mean death. And how he moved just like in the real world. Then when Valjean awakened it changed, he was jumping onto roofs and practically teleporting behind cover like it was second nature. None of the kids had taught him how to do that, just like swinging that giant sword it came naturally.

He had been changed, remade to adapt to the Metaverse. And he had been carefully not thinking about if that followed in the real world. That more than his outlook had changed, that he was now something not quite human. Something other. And the last thing he'd wanted was this hanging over the kids. But he had to know...

Kurusu picked up immediately. "Everything okay, Wolf?" His voice in full Joker mode.

"I was just wondering something. After you awoke to Arsène did anything...weird happen to you."

The other side of the line was quiet for a moment. "I started traveling into the depth of Tokyo's collective subconscious so I could chide some peoples repressed feelings and combat other ones using my rebellious spirit as a mystical weapon. I also went directly in the minds of some of the most evil people I've ever met in order to steal a part of their soul that was making them into twisted bastards in the first place, then selling it for cash at a pawn shop so we could further fund supplies for our exploits. I escaped jail by pulling a trick with reality so the assassin posing as my teammate shot the memory of me being in my cell instead of my actual self. I have killed at least three gods, the first one by taking the offered power of everyone I'd helped and turning it into a fallen angel with a gun. The personification of Hope lives in my room and for reasons unbeknownst to me or him is trapped in the form of a cat. He can also turn into a bus. My friends and I were brought into the Metaverse for a Dance Off that Lavenza thinks I don't remember, but I totally do."

"Okay, okay. Point taken. I should have specified. I didn't mean weird events. I meant like, weird with your body."

"Is this a puberty talk? Because I can assure you I know about the birds and the bees-"

"Not that!" Thank GOD Akane wasn't home. "Look, I got into a bar fight tonight. The fight itself wasn't important, but while I was fighting I started healing, like I do in the Metaverse when I'm not in a Fury. And it's not just the injuries I got during the fight. All the little everyday cuts and bruises are gone and I am doing my best not to freak out, but I am very much freaking out." He could hear Morgana's voice in his head telling him to get it together, just like his first foray into the Metaverse. It didn't help then and it wasn't helping now.

"I haven't noticed anything like that, but none of the rest of us have regenerative abilities like yours." Kuruso said gently and despite himself Zenkichi felt himself calming down ever so slightly. "I know some people who might be able to give us answers. Igor would definitely know, but he's more of a 'you don't call him, he calls you' guy, so he might take a while to find. Lavenza I can get to, she may not know all the answers, but she should know something. We'll find you answers."

"Thank you. And sorry, for falling apart on the phone." Zenkichi said sheepishly.

"It's not a problem, you're one of us now, and we look after our own." Because no one else would was unsaid.

Zenkichi was having dinner with Akane when his phone buzzed. He felt a bit guilty for the quick glance he took at it, but he did work a job where people's lives could depend on his response time.

Have some answers. Den tonight.

"Work?" Akane asked with a bit of disdain. "Just an informant updating me on his progress." He assured her. "Nothing worth interrupting dinner for." Not to mention said informant and his crew would rake him over the coals if he didn't spend enough time with his daughter. Those kids...

Still the Den though. Zenkichi had mixed feelings on the place. It was perfect for their purposes. He just hated how much the location shouldn't exist.

It had apparently manifested during the Yaldaboath incident. A small corner of the metaverse that had attuned to the Phantom Thieves, almost like a one room palace (even if it was a very big room). It had vanished with the rest of the metaverse after that incident had ended, but Sophie had gotten the idea if her 'sister' Emma had managed to have so much control of the metaverse, she could manage one location.

Because it worked like a Jail, all they had to do was enter the passcode and they'd be taken there, regardless from where in Japan they were, and be returned to the same spot. It helped with him in Kyoto, most of the kids in Tokyo, and Sophie who knew where. Incredible convenient, but it gave him the heebie jeebies.

Once Akane was asleep he took out his phone. "For one so desperate for answers, you certainly fear them." His golden eyed reflection said mockingly.

Zenkichi certainly regretted his desperate attempt to talk to his persona. Not only had it not gotten him anything, but Valjean seemingly took it as an invitation to chat with him whenever he saw his reflection which was...annoying (Even if his commentary during boring meetings was hilarious). Still, Zenkichi ignored him and pulled up the custom EMMA-like interface. "Name: Thieves' Den Passcode: I am Thou."

His house dissolved around him and he found himself in the bright red room. But at the same time his heart sank. He'd expected to find Kurusu. And the leader of the Phantom Thieves was there - along with every other member.

So much for not worrying them.

"Hey Gramps," Sakamoto gave him a tiny salute. He was in his Phantom Thief attire with him mask up around his forehead. Most of them were, save Takamaki who was wearing a school uniform.

It seemed strange to him how she didn't actually like her outfit. She'd grown used to it, but didn't think it was cool, the way the others Including him felt about their attire. Had she just gotten so used to being seen as a sex object between her modeling work and Kamoshida's advances that that's how she saw herself even if she hated it.

He'd suggest therapy, but apparently the last time one of these kids tried therapy the therapist had turned himself into a god and tried to rewrite reality into his own Utopia, so that was probably out.

What even was his life?

"So answers?"

"Well, Igor continues his streak of not being there when I need him." There was no mistaking the frustration in his tone. "But Lavenza told me what she could, and we've been running some experiments."

"I could not participate in the experiments as I have no body outside the metaverse, so I helped compile the data." Sophie said brightly.

The kids had been experimenting on themselves?

"So according to Lavenza, awakening to a Persona sort of grants you a dual citizenship in the Metaverse. That's why it's easier for us to navigate after an awakening. We count as a local for all intents and purposes. Also our Personas being a part of us mean we're intrinsically connected."

"It's harder to tell for the mot part with we who have only one persona," Niijima stated. "But Akira's wildcard ability showed that what we do and how we train our bodies does effect our Personas, so it made sense for the reverse to be true."

"We also learned that being a Persona user doesn't automatically make you heal faster, though wounds healed in the metaverse would stay healed in our reality." Sakura continued. "So in an emergency we could use magic in the metaverse to heal a serious injury without the need for a hospital."

"Passive healing isn't common, but I do have some Persona's with a Regenerate ability. When I equipped them, I noticed the fast healing you mentioned did seem to effect me. So it's likely that you do have a variant for ValJean's ability and can heal yourself through fighting. You also probably have the reverse, but I'd prefer you didn't use it as we don't have access to healing magics outside the cognitive world."

"Don't worry, I have no plans to test out if I can tear myself apart in the real world." Because at this point he was honestly just going to assume he could and avoid it.

"Other than emotionally" He reflection snarked back.

You know what? "Also do you guys know how to keep you persona from snarking at you? ValJean's gotten kind of mouthy."

He got several blank looks in return.

"ValJean talks to you? Regularly?" Okumura ventured.

"Is that...? I'm guessing from your looks that's not normal?"

"My Persona only spoke to me when it first awakened." Takamaki looked around, as if confirming this with everyone else.

"The same with mine." Kitagawa nodded.

"Johana was a bit..." Niijima winced . "'I see you've found you're justice, pray do not loose sight of it again.'" She quoted. "I felt like I'd disappointed my mom. I have a hard time imagining just being able to chat with her."

"For real?" Sakamoto looked surprised. "Cap was cool. Told be since my name was already mud, I might as well let loose and wreck havoc. I'd love to have the chance to actually talk with him."

"Zenkichi, under what circumstance did ValJean start talking to you?" Morgana inquired thoughtfully.

"I wanted to ask him about the healing thing. But since it turns out Personas only know what the human they come from knows, he had zilch. And then he never shut up." Zenkichi rolled his eyes.

"Really?" Kurusu of all people looked surprised. "I always got the impression Arséne knew a lot he wasn't telling me. Maybe it's another wildcard thing?"

Sakamoto snorted. "Dude I think it's a you thing. When you're on you give this aura like you have all the answers and hold all the cards. And Arséne's a part of you so...yeah. I think you just played yourself, man."

While the rest of the Phantom Thieves laughed at the bewildered look on their leader, Morgana looked thoughtful. "It makes a certain amount of sense." Morgana allowed, tail twitching. "Personas are part of one's cognition and as such can be shaped by our perceptions. None of us had a persona talk to us outside an awakening, so we assumed just talking to a persona wasn't a thing that could happen. After all, we had accepted that part of us into ourselves. Zenkichi, you to at least some degree saw ValJean as a separate entity, at least enough to assume he'd know something you didn't. You expected him to be able to respond and because of that he was."

"Of course once he did respond that was it. Talking to him became part of your cognition of him. No putting that genie back in the bottle."

"Great." Zenkichi glared at his golden eyes reflection.

"It is not my fault you are ever the agent of your own undoing." ValJean grinned back.

"Having to listen to you forever is a hell of a price tag for admission into the Phantom Thieves." Zenkichi groused.

"Don't be silly, Valjean's not why you got in." Sakura snorted.

"He isn't?" Zenkichi was at least slightly satisfied to see his persona just as poleaxed. "I asked if it was that simple and you said yes."

"Oh, is that what you meant? Then the answer is no, becoming a Phantom thief is NOT as simple as awakening a Persona." Takamaki clarified.

"Yeah Gramps, thought you knew. You were a Phantom Thief before you entered that dungeon." Sakamoto laughed.

"I was?" If anything Zenkichi was even more confused.

"Get out of there. Run." Kurusu said the words calmly, unlike how he had yelled them the night Akane had been taken. "Those words. That moment."

"Please understand, we wanted to trust you before then." Niijima apologized. "But you're not the first member of 'law enforcement' to demand a deal. And they've never intended to keep their end not even....not even Sis." She clenched her fists, remember a Christmas morning she'd thought be filled with hope instead be replaced with anger and betrayal. "The intention was always for us to end up caged, dead or both."

"So by the time you showed up to blackmail us, we knew anyone working with the authorities was absolutely not to be trusted." Okumura further explained, which really made her 'We hate cops' attitude all the more understandable.

"But that moment was a line in the sand. You could sacrifice us for your career, All you had to do was nothing and you'd be set for life. A false hero for the country to praise." Kurusu continued to explain. "But instead you sacrificed your career for us. You gave warning, ruining your career and taking our place in interrogation." He locked eyes with Zenkichi who was suddenly and forcefully reminded that Joker knew what being on the wrong side of that table was like. Knew more than the others exactly the treatment Zenkichi would expect. "In that moment you had to choose if you were with us or them. And that is when you became a Phantom Thief."

Zenkichi felt a lump in his throat. "I just did was right."

"Exactly." said Sakura. "Exactly."

ValJean laughed. "Did the children not just tell you they have little to no experience with adults doing 'what was right' by them. You have their trust and you have earned it fairly."

He'd earned it. And to be honest that felt a little better than getting his place on the team because he had a Persona.

"So you've been keeping u with your cooking, right? What did you make for Akane for dinner tonight." Okumura's words were friendly, but her eyes were sharp with challenge. Kurursu had also sat up straighter, waiting for his response.

Those damn kids. His damn kids.

His?

Okay, he could deal with this revelation later. Right now he had to defend himself in the court of cooking

~~~~

Honestly the original idea for this fic came from the P5 manga where the theives are playing cards and Joker keeps winning until one of the team accuses him of having a high-luck Persona equipped.

And if that carried over, why not other things? Like Zenkichi healing while he's fighting as long as he isn't using Fury

#Ghost Writing #Persona #P5 #P5 Strikers #P5 Strikers Spoilers #Zenkichi Hasegawa #Ann not liking her costume is based off her awakening #All of them were surprised by their new outfits #but she's openingly uncomfortable and tries to cover herself up

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onlyonekenobi · 3 years

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Hi there 🐝💕 Firstly, thank you so much for your amazing blog.

Secondly, I was a fan of SPN many years ago and fell out of it for a while, only having gotten sucked back in after 15×18 (surprise). Back when I was into it before, there was a lot of discussion about Jensen being potentially homophobic, and now I'm noticing that there's been some..... less than awesome stuff said by Misha, too, in terms of the queerbaiting on the show and having only acted Castiel as in love with Dean this past season.

Obviously the content of the show itself proves this wrong, but it still troubles me, and I couldn't find much about it online other than a few posts by people and one con transcript. Do you have any feedback on this, and would you mind sharing it?

(Thank you so much, and no worries if you don't wanna answer, just keep being awesome!)

Hi!

I’ll do my best here, and I’ll try to track down some sources. also, idk if you sent this question to anyone else as well, but if you did, i’m interested to see what they say. if not, i am flattered to be your Trusted Source.

so, first: jensen re homophobia

I could be wrong, but I don’t remember him ever making any kind of “homophobic” comments OUTSIDE OF things regarding destiel that were construed that way by some fans (if i’m wrong, please let me know). I do remember him shutting down destiel comments, etc, and the infamous “?? no” which has since been debunked by the OP as having been taken out of context. (i can’t find the debunking post on my blog but if anyone has it please link!) with the shutting down destiel comments, he was definitely brash at times! but, I do think it’s also important to note that he and misha were explicitly told not to talk about it. and we know that jensen is (or at least especially used to be) a pretty shy guy, and I think destiel questions/comments being shoved in his face in a public setting- when addressing it could get him in trouble with his job- made him nervous and upset.

however, he took a noticeable shift re: destiel in recent years. for one, we know that he gave his blessing for the canon textual confession (again, I can’t find an og post in my absolute mess of late stage supernatural tags, but if anyone has the receipts, please drop them). I could add more of my own personal spec about how jensen shifted his acting choices in light of this information, but I’ll just move on. we know that he was excited about the confession scene. here’s a second post about that.

and re: general homophobia, here’s a post of jackles with pride flags, as well as a 2019 post from his aunt, who is gay. also, this is largely a shitpost, but I saw it in my jackles tag while looking for the above, and it feels relevant, so i’m including it. a little levity before we move on.

now, misha.

I am aware of misha saying two upsetting things in regards to “the confession wasn’t bury your gays, why are you so angry” Again, if there’s more that i’m forgetting, please let me know. The first was in this panel talk (start at 35:50) from November 22. Here is a relevant post about that moment (I also watched the whole panel live and agree with this post.) The second is this video on twitter, and the following thread, from Nov. 25. However, after several fans replied to him explaining why we were so upset, he issued this apology on Nov. 26. I wanted to give you the original link there, but I’m also including a screenshot with a thoughtful and important addition here. And here is a tweet about Misha finding out about The Castiel Project.

i’ve never heard anything about misha only acting cas as in love for the last season exclusively, so I don’t have any posts to expressly debunk it, but I do firmly believe that to be untrue, just based on things misha has let slip over the years

and for both of them, it’s worth noting that whenever they were asked direct questions about the show, they could only do their best to talk around things like queerbaiting, etc, because they obviously couldn’t actively speak out against the show or the network (like this). for example, we know that misha got a couple phone calls from producers on occasions where he toed the line a little too closely, and he commented how you unfortunately have to listen to the people who have the power to kill off your character (immediately following previous clip)

in conclusion

neither of them are homophobic. to the best of my knowledge, neither of them have ever made an outright homophobic comment. and in cases regarding destiel (again, to the best of my knowledge) they have both either changed course or apologized since making any unsavory comments.

there are also WAY more posts on all this that I didn’t include here. if you search the jensen or misha tags on my blog, or probably the blog of just about anyone i follow, you could look into it more

all that said, it’s also important to note that i am Just Some Guy. i did my best to compile this information in a relevant and meaningful way, but i have oversaturated-sponge-adhd-brain that has been actively following this fandom for a decade, and i’m sure some things got lost in there. so to anyone reading this, if i forgot anything critical, please don’t yell at me, i am but a simple internet jester, just like you.

and while we’re here, I’ll say that- while I do think it’s important to keep a critical eye trained everywhere- if we were going to criticize any spn cast members for unsavory comments, these two are certainly not where i would start

tl;dr, ultimately myself and jensen and misha are all Just Some Guy, and none of us know them, but as far as I can figure, they are both genuinely kind and thoughtful people who care about and respect the lgbt community, including their respective characters’ involvement in it and the real world consequences that has

#hi i hope this makes sense i've spent four hours compiling it and i can't look at it anymore xx #anyway i hope this answers your question(s) but if it doesn't please feel free to dm me!!#asks #long post #rachelillustrates

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gerec · 5 years

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Emma’s Birthday/Holiday Party and Erik’s Stupid Face

I don’t know why but I absolutely love writing fics about/set during big parties, especially birthdays or during the holidays as an excuse to throw everybody together for shenanigans! Anyway, here’s 1400 words of a modern au for @lachatblanche, featuring Charles and his childhood bestie Tony Stark. It has all our (hers and mine) favourite tropes including:

- Tony and Charles and Emma as filthy rich, emotionally damaged childhood best friends - Avengers crossovers - Erik as the asshole ex Charles can’t get over - Charles with a VHG (very hot guy) expressly to make Erik green with jealousy - Still have powers au where everyone exists but nobody is a superhero

Enjoy!

He’s been in the car for ten minutes when his cell starts ringing, blasting AC/DC’s ‘Thunderstruck’ loud enough to jolt him from his half comatose state.

“Oh my god I just landed,” Charles groans into his state-of-the-art, Stark issued phone slash satellite GPS slash probable supercomputer, “can’t whatever this is wait until I get home? Preferably after I throw myself face first into my bed for the next twenty four hours?”

“No can do, Charles-y my boy,” is the answer he gets, which – to be fair – is exactly the answer he’d expect from his best and oldest friend. “It’s T minus nine hours until Emma’s party and you’re nowhere near ready for a full scale, Frost patented holiday extravaganza.”

A week ago it had seemed like a brilliant idea, catching a ride back to New York on Tony’s private jet, after wrapping his semester as guest lecturer at Oxford. He would make it back in time for Emma’s birthday, and then spend the rest of the holidays binging on Netflix and Chinese take-out. But the last forty eight hours had turned out to be an absolute slog, trying to tie up so many loose ends that he can barely keep his eyes open, and the last thing he wants to do now is get all dressed up and go to a glitzy, high profile party—

“Do you think I could get away with a no show?” he asks, heaving a tired sigh when Tony starts laughing, entirely unsympathetic and not at all helpful. “I mean, how painful do you think it’ll be on a scale of one to ten? When I’m being murdered by Emma in cold blood.”

“She’ll kill you, resurrect you and then kill you again,” Tony replies, which is ridiculous and also, not that far from the truth. “Listen, all you have to do is make an appearance, kiss the birthday girl and drink some champagne…we used to party much, much harder on way less sleep.”

“God, Tony that was over ten years ago! I have an actual career these days, and responsibilities, and—”

“Stop, stop, you’re killing me here, Charles,” Tony interjects. “If I can do it than you can do it too! In case you’ve forgotten I am also a very important person, making big decisions and doing all the grown up things!”

Charles scoffs. “You mean you have Pepper handling all your actual work while you tinker in your lab day and night. And unless you’re willing to let me hire her away—”

“No! You get your own Pepper, Xavier! She’s a thousand percent off limits I mean it—”

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a sigh, content to listen to Tony go off on a tangent about his PA. It’s a little funny, how the man is still in such ridiculous denial over his very intense, very possessive feelings for Pepper; though hopefully, Tony figures it out soon – by New Year’s ideally – or Charles is going to lose his shirt in the gang’s betting pool.

“—are you even listening to me? Charles? Did you fall asleep?”

“No, no sorry just resting my eyes,” he answers, and Tony huffs with feigned annoyance, before launching into another tirade about Charles acting like a boring old man. The whole thing is inexplicably soothing and familiar, making him realize just how much he’s been missing his sister and his closest friends in the months he’s been away.

Still, there’s no good reason to give in to Tony’s machinations without putting up at least a token fight.

“I don’t have anything to wear. My tux was ruined remember? And I haven’t had the chance to get a new one yet.”

“Emma picked one out for you and my tailor’s on his way over with it. He’ll get you fitted and do the alterations there.”

“My hair’s a right mess. I need to get it cut.”

“Raven’s got a guy. She’s bringing him over.”

“Food? Sleep? I’m in no shape for—”

Tony cuts him off before he can finish. “Done and done. Food will be delivered and you have five hours to nap. That leaves you four hours to shower, shave and get dolled up for the party. My car’s coming to get you at seven p.m. sharp.”

Charles can’t help it; he laughs and laughs at the absurd, military-like precision of Tony’s whole ‘get Charles to the party’ operation. “Did you happen to get me a date too? Is someone going to be gift wrapped and hand delivered to my door at nineteen hundred hours?”

He’s kidding of course, because even Tony wouldn’t go so far as to set him up with a blind date within his first twenty four hours back on U.S. soil. But then—

“Actually, yeah. I know a guy. Handsome, artist, ex-Army Captain. Too bland for me but he’s right up your alley. You’ve got a thing about good manners.”

It takes a moment for Charles to actually register the words, before his mind catches up to the implication of what Tony’s just said. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I’m in absolutely no shape to meet new people. Especially hot new people I might want to make a good first impression on. And possibly take home some other time I’m not feeling like death warmed over for sex.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then a considering hum before Tony decides to drop the proverbial bomb. “Are you sure? ‘Cause your ex is coming tonight.”

Charles doesn’t whine – though it’s a near thing – but he does groan pitifully, leaning forward to bang his head on the back of the front passenger seat. “Why? Why did you guys invite him? You know how I get around Erik, especially after a few drinks—”

“Hey it wasn’t me! Emma invited him, ‘cause I guess they’re still friends or some shit. You have only yourself to blame though, with all that ‘it’s fine that we broke up you guys don’t have to pick sides or stop being friends with him’ crap. You know if you just told her how you really feel she’ll stab him in the heart with her stiletto heel and serve it to you on a silver platter.”

“She’s a telepath too! I shouldn’t have to tell her…” It’s a weak assed excuse and he knows it.

“Whatever. Are you sure you don’t want a hot date? You and I both know that bastard’s going to bring someone young and flashy to try and make you jealous, and you’re going to totally fall for it again like you did last time and the time before that. And then you’re going to end up having hate sex with him again, even though you swore it would never, ever happen, until the next time it happens and you—"

“Ugh please shut up; you’re the worst friend I’ve ever had in my entire life!”

Tony snorts. “You mean I’m the best friend you’ve ever had or will ever have, because who else would line up a bona fide sex god for you to piss off your stupid ex-boyfriend? Me that’s who. Now are you in or not?”

“Send me a picture,” he says and promptly hangs up, cutting Tony off before he can remind Charles what a mess his life has become, and how he really shouldn’t have tried to take the high road after the messy breakup ten months ago.

The cell pings then, three, four, five times in rapid succession; no doubt the pictures of said blind date as Charles requested. His interest is half-hearted at best, that is, until he gets an eyeful of sweaty, muscle-y biceps in the very first image, a side shot of a tall, blond, very well built man making mincemeat out of the swaying punching bag. The next shot is even better, showing the front of the man as he’s jogging towards the camera, t-shirt slightly too tight over his bulging chest and arms. He’s absolutely, positively, drop dead gorgeous, and Charles can’t wait to walk into Emma’s party, arm-in-arm with his very own Adonis come to life.

It does not give him a hot surge of vicious satisfaction, imagining the sour expression on Erik’s stupid face.

He sends Tony a quick text. Name?

Steve Rogers. Rank Captain. Retired, US Army.

Charles scrubs his face and chuckles as he types his reply.

I’m in.

#gerec writes #cherik #starles #charles xavier #tony stark #charles&tony #modern au #still have powers #holiday fic #for my darling Lach #there might be more #who am I kidding there's gonna be more

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crimsonrevolt · 5 years

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Congratulations Angela you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Amelia Bones.

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Angela! Amelia is a character that we’ve been anxiously awaiting to see for quite some time, and now it’s clear that we’ve been waiting for you! Your application blew us away, from your passion for her as a person to the explanations on how she becomes the person we know her to be in canon to how the horrors she experienced in war has impacted her. It’s clear to us that you have a strong connection and understanding of Amelia, and we can’t wait to see where you take her going forward. Welcome to the group! *Your faceclaim change to Summer Glau has been accepted.

application beneath the cut (tw: mentions of PTSD)

OUT OF CHARACTER

Introduction: Angela, 25+, she/her, CST but I work night shift which puts me more on par with GMT+11

Activity: As previously stated, I work nights and my shifts are 12 hours. On nights I work I’m usually not as active but on my days off I tend to catch up.

How did you find us? Amelia Bones tag

Anything else? n/a

IN CHARACTER

Desired character: Amelia Susan Bones

Birthday / star sign: December 29, 1957; Capricorn

Occupation: Before the kidnapping, Amelia was working for the DMLE as an Auror. Technically, she’s probably still employed. Unless someone had her officially declared dead, she hadn’t actually bothered to check that. Somehow she doubted Edgar would have given up, despite the length of her absence. That being said, there was absolutely now way the department would allow her to return to active duty, not yet anyway. Which means she’d probably shunted off into an investigation department or worse, some sort of clerical work.

Faceclaim: FC change to Summer Glau, Shelley Hennig, or Alicia Vikander

Reason for chosen character: Amelia was the first character I fell in love with writing years ago when I started RPing. Since then I’ve always had a soft spot for her, but often times the way I view Amelia and the way she is described in RP bios don’t match up. Amelia is a character driven by, but not broken by, loss. Her parents and her brother, along with his family, are canonically murdered. The things she goes through personally are not stated in canon, but for her family to be targeted the way it is, you can assume she was not passive. Especially given that she rises to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and eventually murdered by Voldemort himself. I love strong women. She is clearly a threat to the Death Eaters and their cause and I just cannot believe that only happens after the demise of her family. She was just lucky enough to escape their fate during the first war. No one escapes war unscathed, however, and yet she continues on, becoming known as fair and a great witch. I really want to explore the path that gets her there. The struggles she goes through, the times she loses herself in trying to achieve her goals. How justice and vengeance become blurred and how she finds balance again. It’s honestly fascinating to me, especially given her circumstances in this RP.

Prior to her kidnapping, I think she probably had a lot more faith in the system. She believed that the Ministry, while not without its issues, would ultimately prevail. It was a naive viewpoint. For a year she’s been missing, tortured and brutalized, and it’s changed her. She’s struggling with a range of things including PTSD and rage and a need to regain control. She can no longer wait and hope that the Ministry or even the Order will figure out how to make things right, she has to do it herself. She KNOWS what happens to those who get captured. The lucky ones are killed, those like her who might have information…they’re not lucky. Survival is not the gift that some might thing it to be. It’s a burden. One she will do anything to make sure no one else has to carry, including things that she would not have considered before.

Preferred ships // Character sexuality // Gender & Pronouns: Right now the last thing Amelia is interested in is romance. Though, that doesn’t mean she’s against the idea of blowing off steam with someone. She is damaged, that’s how she views herself now. Just…fucked up. There is a part of her that was broken during her captivity, a part of her that almost craves to be subjugated, so long as she maintains some control of the situation. It’s not a thing she likes to talk about or would acknowledge in the light of day. But when it comes to sex, she’s discovered she likes it rougher than she ever would have guessed previously. No attachments, no commitments, just… physical gratification. She has nothing outside of that to give to anyone. And honestly, she’s not that picky when it comes to gender. It’s less about who and more about the feeling she gets when she’s with them. As far as her own gender identity goes, she’s cis-female, she/her pronouns

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER

https://weheartit.com/thebutlerdidit/collections/95404130-amelia-bones

Headcanons: – You don’t survive a year of captivity without scars. Physical, mental, emotional, etc. Amelia has all of them. She refused just about all of the treatments the Healers offered, preferring not to be touched or poked or prodded any further. Potions were provided and she takes them on occasion, but she prefers to self-medicate with alcohol and/or a good duel. Hell, even a good fist fight provides a decent catharsis. Never again will she place herself under someone’s thumb. Yes, she’s learned to enjoy being subjected to roughness in love-play, but it never goes anywhere she doesn’t expressly allow. The people she was close to before being taken are now held at arm’s length, especially if they try to discover what happened while she was gone. She’s not exactly proud of the things she had to do to survive, the things she had to allow, but in the end all that matters is that she did survive. She got out. And she’ll get revenge. – People tend to underestimate Hufflepuffs and there are probably many who believe her current state of vengeance is out of character for one of her former house. They’re wrong. Hufflepuffs are gentle until pushed to their limit, at which point they fight like hell. Beware the wrath of a person who is usually kind and gentle, because they did not become that way by accident. Kindness is not a default, it’s not a naive choice. Not always, at least. Often times it is earned out of hard fought battles and discovered when tested by fire. But when pushed beyond those limits of kindness, there are few limits to what they will do in order to survive. People who think them weak are fools. When you push a kind person beyond their limits, you won’t find brokenness on the other side, you’ll find steel and rage and power. – Amelia hasn’t talked to anyone about what she went through during the year she was missing. She tells people that she doesn’t really remember, that there were memory spells and it’s all a blur. That’s true for parts of it, but it’s not all gone. She remembers the way it felt to have the cruciatus curse rip through her body, every nerve ending screaming as the unforgivable curse burned through her. She remembers bones broken only to be reknit and broken again. Her dreams are haunted by silver masks and laughter as she was tortured for their enjoyment. There are pieces of what happened that are burned in her mind, never to be forgotten. She might not be able to name names for sure, at least not in a way that would hold up in court, but she believes she’ll recognize her captors if she’s faced with them again. Whether or not that’s true is yet to be determined. – Everything in Amelia’s life since her return is about control. She was without it for so long that now she’s not likely to give it up without a fight. It’s why she won’t take a sleeping potion. Why she won’t submit to the healers exams or the questions of the Ministry. Things will happen on her terms or they won’t fucking happen at all. Anyone who has a problem with that can get the hell out of her way.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey or interview for your character. The questions may be answered in character or out of character, with or without gifs. (using gifs of a few different FCs I listed, hope that’s okay)

Do you think it is more important to be feared or loved? Which would you rather be? Honestly, I don’t give a shit. Fear me, love me, whatever. It’s of little consequence as long as you do what needs to be done. If I had to be one or the other, I guess I’d rather people love me? But honestly, I don’t need it. I’d rather people just left me alone.

What is one thing you would never want said about you? She gave up. I have not come this far, struggled so hard just to quit. I have not given up, I don’t intend to give up. I’m not going to let myself be broken. I don’t care what it takes, I’m determined to win. I am not a quitter.

If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it! I’d like to be able to read people’s thoughts and intentions. Not like veritaserum, where the person is forced to tell you what they’re thinking and feeling…I want to experience it. I want to know why and how in the moment. I suppose that some might consider that to be legilimency, and maybe that’s what I mean, but it feels different to me. I guess I don’t just want to know, I want to be able to influence what I discover. To be able to push or pull on someone’s emotions and intentions, but more subtly than the imperius curse. A nudge rather than a shove. Fuck. I don’t know. Just… control. A measure of control over what happens because of the people around you.

What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? Ones that involve trusting someone else. Things get complicated when you leave things up to other people and often times they let you down. I would rather do it myself than have to rely on someone else. There’s a reason people say if you want something done right, do it yourself, and it’s because other people let you down. They fail when you’re counting on them and everyone ends up paying the price. Better to just rely on yourself.

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

Not for nothing was Amelia one of the best chasers Hufflepuff ever saw. The World Cup was a foolish endeavor, but even she could understand the reasoning behind it. People needed to blow off steam, fine. But honestly, if they were going to put an opportunity like this in front of her, she wasn’t about to ignore it. She might not play anymore, but she can still fly and god knows she can scream louder than anyone thought. (A trait she is fairly certain kept her alive during the year she was held captive. She’d screamed until her throat bled, a sound one particular captor compared to a symphony because he was a sick bastard.) The people need to know. Ignorance will get them killed. She’s been shut down, kept out of the search for her brother, but this was something she could do. The more people that knew the truth, the weaker the other side had to become. The easier it would be to find Edgar. They’d barely gotten a chance to speak, let alone reconnect before he’d been taken and no one was doing a goddamned thing about it. Amelia had to fight hard against her own guilt – a Bones set free, another taken…was it her fault? She tried not to think about it that way but it was hard. Worse is the knowledge that comes with having been in his position before. Amelia doesn’t have to imagine what he’s going through, she experienced it first hand.

WRITING SAMPLE

She awoke slowly, arms tied above her head and her feet barely scraping the floor of the dimly lit room. She shifted to stand on her tip toes to relieve the ache in her arms; they’d been supporting her weight while she was unconscious. Before she could truly survey her surroundings a whispered curse hit her in the back, shocking her into crying out. The stinging hex spread angry welts over her skin.

“Welcome back, Ms. Bones.”

Amelia turned, trying to look over her shoulder to see who was speaking, but her assailant remained in the shadows. She didn’t recognize his voice, though there were clearly spells in place to disguise it. She grit her teeth and didn’t respond.

“Nothing to say?” the unknown person asked. “You’re usually so vocal. Standing up and shouting for anyone who’ll listen how you plan to bring justice to the wizarding world. You and I both know true justice isn’t an option.”

It took every ounce of her will power to stay still and silent. Whoever had grabbed her was clearly baiting her. She couldn’t remember how long it’d been, but surely the aurors were looking for her. She was hardly the most important member of the department, but they watched out for her own. She couldn’t remember the specifics of the attack but it had been her own damn fault for letting herself get distracted. There was a rustling behind her as the figure moved closer. She could feel him behind her, wishing more than anything for a chance to get the drop on him.

“Your brother was louder. Begged. Said we could do whatever we wanted to him, so long as we spared his wife and children."

Her blood ran cold. Edgar. "You don’t have him.”

“Don’t I? Perhaps not. Maybe he’s dead. Shall I tell you how we laid them out? Presented each of their bodies in a perfect tableau for you to find. I wanted to kill the dog, too. Little shit wouldn’t stop barking.”

She was shaking now and despite all her scolding, all her training at hiding her emotions she couldn’t stop herself from reacting. “I’ll kill you,” she promised in a low voice.

He laughed.

Amelia thrashed in her restraints, wild with hatred. She was only hurting herself, he was too far away for her to reach and she didn’t have her wand. Despite her efforts, she’d never mastered a wandless attack. She could do simple spells, but nothing more.

“Calm down, Ms. Bones. You’ll snap your little wrists and I won’t mend them.”

He moved behind her again until she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She threw her head back, barely clipping his chin with the top of her head as he moved away. Probably hurt her a lot more than it hurt him.

“Do you enjoy hurting people?” she growled.

He finally moved in front of her, silver mask gleaming as it reflected the single lamp. His wand was raised, pointed directly at her. Even without being able to see his face, she was certain he was smiling at her.

“Yes.”

—

Another example from a previous blog, but it fits along with the theme (though another talented writer contributed quite a bit.) TW for torture - Amelia was kidnapped briefly and tortured by Evan Rosier - http://hardasbones.tumblr.com/tagged/mister-sandman/chrono

#accepted app #amelia bones

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chrismaverickdotcom · 6 years

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Mavademics: Male Gaze through Visual Signifiers in Comic Art

Last week I saw an image for a cover to a Popeye comic. This version, drawn by Steve Mannion featured Popeye and Bluto with exaggerated vein popping musculatures and Olive Oyl reimagined as a sexy femme fatale in the style that, at least to me, is most close evocative of Salma Hayek‘s character from Deserpado. At the time I thought it was an upcoming series that reimagined Popeye in a modern context in the same way as recent series have done with Flintstones, Scooby Doo and Snagglepuss. I was intrigued and excited. I wanted to see what they were going to do with it. I’ve since come to learn that it was actually an older variant cover to Popeye Classics, IDW Comics‘ series of reprints fo classic Popeye adventures. I’m actually a little disappointed by this, because I was totally interested to see where it would go, but even without a new series to back it up, the image did make me think of some issues that I am working with in my dissertation that I figured it would be worth floating here in my blog to see what people’s thoughts were. In other words, it’s time for another fun round of everyone’s favorite game, “let’s comment on Mav’s dissertation research!”

Namely, I am interested in the fact that when I posted the image to Facebook, the main criticism that people jumped on immediately was the obvious sexualization of Olive Oyl. My friend Cenate pointed out that “A curvaceous Olive Oyl is just so strange. My brain can’t process it.” and a lot of this is because, as in the words of my friend Steve, “Admittedly I expect comic book bodies to be unrealistic, but man, my whole body is in pain just thinking about how deformed and twisted Olive’s skeleton must be. Either her left knee is twisted ninety degrees or she has a goat leg, likely both given the appearance of the silhouette of her right leg…” And while that’s true, my counter argument was that I find it interesting that this is what their attention is called to despite Olive Oyl never being particularly anatomically correct traditionally, and Popeye and Bluto also being extremely non-proportioned in they image. That is, I find it interesting but not surprising. In particular I see it as emblematic of the usage of male gaze in comic art. That is, here I am referring to “comic art” as an art style (or really set of styles collecting a series of like visual tropes) as opposed to the physical media (comic books), or the common genres most often associated with that media (superhero fantasy).

First, I think it’s worth defining the idea of “the male gaze.” I am not using it in the common internety way, of just saying “its bad to portray women as sex objects.” There’s an important conversation to be had there, but that’s not really where I am going with this. At least not directly. It’s an obvious connection that follows, however. When I am using the term I am doing so more in the vein that Laura Mulvey does in her original essay that introduced the term, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”. Specifically, at least here, I am concerned with the techniques by which the art style uses the media to portray female characters as sexual objects inviting a voyeuristic gaze, in contrast to make characters being depicted as subjects capable of active agency, rather than the ramifications of doing so. In her essay, Mulvey focuses on the specifics of how this is done in classic cinema pointing to the manner in which the woman, who’s primary purpose is to-be-looked-at, rather than progress the actual action of the plot, must necessarily freeze the otherwise progressing action of the film in order to invite the audience to partake in the voyeuristic pleasure of admiring her body. Since Mulvey is concerned primarily with classic cinema, she uses examples like Rear Window and Marnie. But I’m a comic book geek, so I’m going to offer Ming the Merciless’s hypnosis of Dale Arden in the cult classic Flash Gordon:

Note that when Ming takes control of Dale, everything else in the film stops so that people can just look at her. No one attempts to save her. The extra-diegetic lighting in the room inexplicably lowers so that the audience we can more easily ignore Flash Gordon and the others and focus on Dale as she runs her hands up and down her body and dances for Ming’s (and transitively our) amusement. She’s fully clothed, and in fact, is far more erotically dressed in nearly every scene that follows this in the film, and yet this scene is inherently sexual. Her movements and slow semi-orgamsic moans expressly tell the viewer that this is about sex, however her explicit lack of consent and even awareness of what’s going on key us to read that her personal sexual enjoyment, or lack thereof is entirely irrelevant. Even Flash, her love interest in the film, who is very much aware of the fact that his girlfriend is being psychically sexually violated against her will, can’t help but acknowledge that looking at her as an object (her explicit purpose in the scene) is “sensational.”

That is not to say that the sexuality on display cannot be germane to the plot, or that even doing so makes it a bad narrative. After all, in Rear Window, Mulvey’s key example, the voyeurism inherent in watching is central plot of the film. This can also be seen in the actual scene from Desperado that I compared Olive Oyl to in the first place:

Here, we’re actually given far less time to focus on Carolina(Hayek) as an erotic object. In my head, before I rewatched the scene, I remembered there being far more time to focus on her than actually occurs. She is introduced at a key moment in the action as the Mariachi (Antonio Banderas) is being pursued by his adversaries. She does not freeze the action, but instead is inserted into it because of her sexuality. She is explicitly scantily dressed to key the audience in to the fact that her sexuality is important. We don’t get much time to focus on her bare midriff, flowing windblown hair, or the fact that her tight shirt is tied to frame her boobs — approximately five seconds while other things are going on — but we are entirely aware of them. Moreover, the car crash that happens as she carelessly walks across the street keys us in to the fact that men are so distracted by her beauty that they can focus on nothing else, and her laugh at the event tells us that not only is she used to this sort of thing, but she enjoys it. Immediately after this, we have all action occurring in slow motion as the Mariachi is transfixed by looking at her, so much so that he (and we) almost ignore the the armed assailant whom we all know is coming to kill him. And yet, from this point onward, Carolina is one of the key characters of the film. But she is defined by her sexuality because the tropes of filmmaking tell us to define her that way.

So that takes us back to the Olive Oyl image. Obviously she is sexualized. But the question becomes why… and how does she command specific attention in the image beyond what the other figures do. After all, Steve commented that “my whole body is in pain just thinking about how deformed and twisted Olive’s skeleton must be. Either her left knee is twisted ninety degrees or she has a goat leg, likely both given the appearance of the silhouette of her right leg…” but Popeye’s suffers from much the same issue, his left leg is raised higher than should be possible with out a dislocated hip. His elbow has been relocated to the bottom of his oversized forearm, which should be breaking both his underdeveloped bicep and shoulder from the sheer weight of support. Given the the relative length of his right upper arm, we must assume that his left lower arm has been severed from the occlude left bicep. Similarly, Bluto, whose left arm is more massive than Olive’s entire frame, appears to be missing a right arm entirely, unless we as readers are to assume he has a congenital birth defect causing an underdeveloped arm, which would then call in to question why Popeye is attacking a disabled man. In a sense, Olive may actually be the most realistically proportioned figure in the entire image.

She is also more realistically rendered than her classic interpretation, a wiry, frail woman with joints that seem irrelevant to the points at which her body is capable of bending. While the new interpretation of Olive, with her ample bosom (again, like Hayek’s framed in a tight, low-cut, midriff exposing blouse), skirt clinging tighter to her legs to suggest her crotch, and leg pointed suggestively to expose her new 4-inch heel Fuck-Me Boots, the classic Olive isn’t actually that far behind. It’s true that Olive was never classically visually depicted as having a body that is conventionally sought after as attractive by women of the current era or her 1919 origin, she was always a sex object. She is designed to be a flapper (hence her hair and skirt), a stereotype that has as much sexual connotation at the time as it does now. It’s just that the specific style that E.C. Segar used when drawing her and the other Popeye/Thimble Theatre characters wasn’t designed to “realistic” so much as expressive. She frequently made it clear from her posture and actions that she was extremely horned up almost all of the time. In fact, a LOT of Popeye strips are pretty much about Olive basically wanting to fuck whoever pays the slightest flattery to her. It’s one of the reasons Bluto and Popeye hate each other. When she is not actively seeking amorous attention, she is the perpetual kidnapped damsel-in-distress from Bluto, who desires her sexually.

The sexual aspect of the Olive Oyl character was so prevalent in the 1930s and 40s that she became one of the most common characters featured in Tijuana Bibles (NSFW, seriously… DO NOT click to enlarge this image unless you really want to see a raunchy, rapey, bisexual, anal threesome between Olive, Popeye and Wimpy that your grandfather or great grandfather probably jacked off to at some point during the during the war… I mean, who are we kidding, we all know you’re going to click on it, but you’ve been warned). While the authors and artists of Tijuana Bibles are generally anonymous, it is widely believe that many of the underground artists creating the pieces were employed by day as the regular artists or assistant artists of these very same strips. So while they are certainly not officially sanctioned, they were very much understood as part of the comic culture of the time in the same way sexualize fan art that you might find on DeviantArt, or commission from an artist at a comicon is today. And Olive became a favorite of these because she was understood to be an innately sexual character.

So if we return to the Mannion cover we see some very specific elements at work that call attention to this sexualization despite Olive taking up comparatively little space in the composition. Obviously, the clothing choices are designed to present a sexualized image consistent with modern 21st century fashion choices. Her her hips, boobs, and legs are extended in such a way as to accentuate her femininity as much as possible. While the other characters are more dynamic, she is positioned in front of them, signaling her importance to the composition. Finally, she is the focal point of a golden spiral, the visual instantiation of the golden ratio, φ. In layman’s terms’s Popeye and Bluto are positioned relative to the rest of composition to form the beginnings of a spiral that causes the eyeline to drift towards a specific focal point, as you follow the action. In this case, specifically you are drawn closer and closer to her torso, which continues the spiral which is now framed by her boobs and crotch. Mathematically, you the image literally signifies to you “tits and pussy, right here kids.” Like Hayek in Desperado, she seems both completely aware and totally disaffected by the effect her sexuality has on Bluto and Popeye behind her. She knows they’re there, but this is regular occurrence for her (and it is) so she is happy to mind her business and rejoice in her function, to be looked at as an object to drive the action rather than a participant in and of herself.

Again, I’m not making a Frederic Wertham argument here. I’m not so much arguing that the objectification inherent in the image is “bad.” In fact, in this case, I think it’s used particularly well. But the argument is more in the fact that it is commonplace enough to have become a specific visual trope. I actually went to the comic book shop, Phantom of the Attic, yesterday to count how many female sexualized covers there were. From a pure blatant eroticization stanpoint, of the 216 covers that were on the shelf yesterday, only eight had covers that I think your common viewer people would claim were blatantly eroticized towards a male gaze, far fewer than I would have expected, honestly (and way less than would have been the case in the 1990s comic boom). However, 42 of them used golden spirals to draw the focus to an at least mildly sexualized female character or body part. While some of these make sense tonally or narratively, (as is the case with the Red Sonja/Tarzan cover pictured below), others (as in the Hit-Girl cover) seem almost incidental but for the fact that because the character is female, the focus on a sexual characteristic must be sexual.

In particular this becomes complicated by the manner in which we view an eroticized male vs an eroticized female, is is the case in two similar bondage covers that happened to be on the shelf, one for Spider-man and another for Breathless. The female cover takes on a much more erotic connotation despite being effectively identical to the male. This appears to be a function of the cultural view of feminine vs. masculine sexuality as portrayed in art. Clearly the sexual aspects of masculinity are as exaggerated, if not more so, in Popeye and Bluto than they are in Olive in the Mannion image, but it is Olive that appears to draw our attention, not only because of the focus of the spiral, but because we are more predisposed to notice the woman as sexual object than the male.

So anyway, that’s what I’m working with right now. I’m curious as to people’s base opinions and thoughts. This may possibly get worked into a future episode of the podcast… which reminds me… I want to end on a cheap plug. Check out my podcast, VoxPopcast which I do with Wayne Wise, Katya Gorecki and whoever else I happen to rope in that week. Subscribe on iTunes and Facebook and leave reviews and comment and all the things that will make me famous so I can just think about sex in funny books all the time. You know… for you.

Laura Hudson, Cenate Pruitt, Jessica Keller, Vox Popcast liked this post

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Mavademics: Male Gaze through Visual Signifiers in Comic Art was originally published on ChrisMaverick dotcom

#bluto #comics #desperado #flash gordon #golden spiral #laura mulvey #Male gaze #olive oyl #popeye

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chellyfishing · 6 years

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not too long ago i used the word ‘mollymawk’ as a name in something for its symbolism--they’re a type of albatross, which is used as a metaphor for a burden or guilt. anyway i couldn’t remember what and it was BUGGING ME SO MUCH so i had to open AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL my scrivener files and was only maybe a quarter way through searching each one before i correctly remembered where i’d used it (for a spaceship). anyway the point i’m getting at is that i have tons and tons of tiny scraps of things and here is a short essay i found called the pool. it is a true story about an empty pool. this is the most i’ve been able to talk about my old house since leaving it. i don’t even know if it’s cathartic. i think for some reason i would appreciate people reading it though.

(i recently met my favorite aunt’s new boyfriend, and he was blown away to learn about all this. i am mostly blown away that people are so blown away. here is an actual piece written about its “memorial.” i was not asked to contribute. their loss.)

Shortly before I turned five, we moved into a house. Before that we lived in an apartment, which I have few funny memories of, except for the bird thing and the markers thing and some stuff about Santa, but that’s tangential.

The house was exciting for several reasons. For one thing, it was five minutes down the freeway from Disneyland. You could see the fireworks from the yard. For another, there was a pool in the backyard. The pool didn’t actually have water in it, but it was a pool, and I had a vivid imagination. The promise of summers in my very own pool was maybe even more thrilling than the proximity to Disneyland. Maybe.

Spoiler alert, in the more than two decades I lived in that house, it never happened. The pool never got fixed. It remained empty, except when it rained, and even then it typically had more mosquitoes than water.

There was one thing it attracted more than mosquitoes: skaters. Based on my personal observations over the years I can guess without hyperbole that some eighty percent of the Orange County population regularly uses a skateboard. And skaters have always been about as welcome as mosquitoes. They pop up everywhere, to the point that signs expressly forbidding skating are as ubiquitous as palm trees.

And as you may know from film and TV, skaters love empty pools. They loved our empty pool in particular, because it was a unique shape. The pool itself was curved, something like a lima bean, and the bottom slanted in a steep gradient that made the deep end unusually deep. There were no corners, except on the cement steps in the shallow end. It was a skater’s dream, and apparently, this spot had been a favorite since at least the seventies. It was known as the Fishbowl, and unbeknownst to me, it was iconic.

I knew none of this until twenty years later. As a child, to me that pool was nothing but a shattered dream, a constant ache that became a nuisance because strange people were always lurking around, trying to find an opportunity to sneak in and have some fun. This would make most anyone uncomfortable at best, and I was a small child who was painfully shy and anxious about everything.

They came to the door like Mormons in cargo shorts, always asking the same thing: “Can we skate in your pool?”

My sister was usually the one to answer them. My mom and dad were often busy with work and other things, my mom liked to talk to people about as much as I did, and I dropped to the floor and belly-crawled to the back of the house every time the doorbell rang. Each time my sister would dutifully explain that our dad would kill her if she let them into the yard to skate. For one thing, they were strange boys. For another, there was an insurance issue that would leave us liable if some jackass hurt himself. Skaters are not known for their, well… not getting hurt.

Things were the worst when I was home alone. The boys would ring the bell and knock, and I would hide behind furniture until they left. Then I would blithely go into the kitchen for a snack only to find myself staring through the window at some strange kid climbing the back fence to see if it was safe to let himself and his friends in. In hindsight, like wild animals, they were probably more scared of me than I was of them, since they were trespassing and whatnot. I was too busy crawling for the nearest baseball bat to consider anything like that, though.

This was de rigueur for well over a decade. Over the years they stopped coming around as much, my dad’s reputation as an inflexible hard-ass apparently well-established.

Then Jon Tucker moved next door. Jon Tucker is a cinematographer whose credits include, among others, the stop motion episode of Community. His wife’s sister is a famous artist in Spain. Jon also happens to be an old-school skater with a lot of connections to the same community who had been such a nuisance to us throughout my childhood.

Despite the impression my dad’s rules might give, he’s the type of person who makes friends everywhere he goes. He and Jon hit it off right away. Who knows what they talked about. Palm trees, interior design, I don’t know, guy stuff. Eventually Jon managed to finagle my dad into the unthinkable: opening the backyard to skaters.

And so backyard skating parties become a fairly regular event. My bedroom window was right next to the pool, and I can remember many nights of annoyance trying to drown out the rock music and non-stop scraping noises. My dad and my sister made friends with the skaters. My sister would share cookies and muffins she had baked. My mom probably also talked to them at some point or another. I think I went outside while they were there maybe once, for three minutes or so, clutching my dog to my chest. I was well into agoraphobe territory by this time, so more than anything I just wanted heavy curtains, headphones, and a hole to crawl into.

I didn’t exactly hate the skaters, not like I did as a child anyway. I liked Jon, and I knew those guys really loved that damn pool—they got far more out of it in a few hours a month than I had in decades of living beside it. It was only at this time that I learned about our pool’s reputation as the Fishbowl, so-called presumably due to the bowl shape and the fish painted on one side. I learned third-hand that a lot of famous skaters had skated in that pool. I couldn’t tell you who they were. I only know the names of two pro skaters, and I don’t think they ever came by. Maybe they did though. I have no idea.

When we were forced out of the house in 2013, it was bought by flippers, who determined it would be more profitable to destroy the pool than fix it. There were skaters who literally begged them to change their mind but flippers being leeches and scum to begin with, that minor increase in net gain was far more important to them.

Losing that pool meant something different to me from what it did to the skaters, and they were pretty heartbroken. I’ve only been out there once since it was crushed up and filled in. I was living in my car and the house was still for sale post-remodel, so I broke in and used the shower. (I say “broke in” but the door was unlocked.) There was grass, with a lima bean-shaped area of mulch right where the pool had been. I couldn’t even bring myself to walk on it.

I’ve read a little more about the history of the Fishbowl since its destruction. I really had no idea that I was living with what to many was a kind of historical landmark.

I can tell you that I lost more than they did, even if that dry pool had been the source of so many annoyances over the years. I had lost my home, and the stupid pool was a part of that. They loved skating in it, but they hadn’t looked at it every single day for more than twenty years. It was a place they enjoyed but it was not a constant part of their lives.

The funny thing is, the only moral to this story that I can think of is the old adage that you can’t go home again. Except, to a lot of these guys, that’s exactly what they did. After being chased away for decades, they got one last chance before becoming too arthritic and crotchety to play again. So, I guess in that respect, that’s nice for them.

I never skated in that pool. But I did walk around in it. I did see those fish daily. I remember the feel of the cement, the unusual slope. I wanted a pool that I could swim in, and now I would give anything for that stupid dry hole that’s gone forever.

#deep thoughts #heh deep #''our dream''#honestly

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