Okay, just one quick fic question...

[trinityofone]

...and then I am showering going to the library, I swear.

On the left you have: ages where you make up elaborate fantasy stories in your head and play pretend and run around thwacking your friends with sticks.

On the right you have: ages where you're starting to feel the first stirrings of sexual awakening, (mostly) innocent and vague, yes, but there.

In the wacky Venn diagram that is this story, where do those two circles intersect? How old are you?

Remember: also, you are a boy.

I was going to say 12, because at 12 I think I was still semi-convinced that I could still find the wardrobe to Narnia, but also I was crushing on Harrison Ford like mad and cutting his picture out of magazines and stuff.

Anyway, I would love to hear your thoughts.

(And sticks are still TOTALLY the best toys ever, OMG.)

Comments

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

Heh. I maintained a half-hearted, hopeful belief in Santa Claus for ages. I think I was 16 before, in an argument with my mother, I yelled something like, "And also, Santa does NOT exist! Fuck you!"

tom cruise (ah the good old days when he wasn't weird)

Yeah, I used to like him, and now he's nuts, and I can't watch Jerry Maguire anymore. *pouts*

it's amazing what you can do with stuff you find in a dumpster

I traded the city for the country too early, it seems. *g* At least I've subsequently traded back!

Thanks for the advice. ;-)

[randomeliza.livejournal.com]

I think I was 16 before, in an argument with my mother, I yelled something like, "And also, Santa does NOT exist! Fuck you!"

My mom still gives me presents at Christmas signed "TO BETSY FROM SANTA". *rolls eyes* But I will never forgive her for disillusioning me at the age of eight, when I went to bed early on Christmas and she woke me up making lots of noise while moving presents from her room into the living room. I watched her for, like, ten minutes moving, like, shopping bags full of wrapped gifts before it hit me that my mom was Santa. Someday, if we ever have a fight, I will throw that back in her face. I'm still traumatised. Eight is way too early to not believe in Santa.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

Yeah, my dad screwed up real early with the Easter Bunny.

My Dad: "Okay, kids: now go see where we--um, I mean, the Easter Bunny--hid the eggs!"
My Mom: *facepalm* Oh, Jeff.

But yeah, I still get gifts from Santa and eggs from the Bunny and I'm pretty sure that if I got punched in the mouth and lost some molars, the Tooth Fairy would show up. CHILDHOOD NEVER DIES. Unless you're cussing out your parents.

[randomeliza.livejournal.com]

Heh. We just stopped doing the easter basket thing because my mom really couldn't be arsed to dye eggs after the year all the dye got spilled on the carpet. I think we did that once, maybe? But I made her buy me Cadbury Creme Eggs every year without fail. Amazing what guilt at not following the rest of the tradition can do.

Hee. Punched in the mouth. I can really not see you without teeth. I think the tooth fairy would probably laugh a little. And then you'd have to cuss her out, and it would ruin the whole thing.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

I imagine it would go something like this (http://www.trickster.org/speranza/cesper/misc.html#HCL).