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i-dont-even-know-anymore921 · 5 years ago

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Outsiders Reclist

This is an Outsiders Fanfiction Reclist- This will be a constant work in progress(I’ll be adding to it whenever I find something I think is worth reading or if I get sent something from someone who wants something added) It will be organized by the main character but keep in mind the fact that just because a fic is under one character doesn’t mean it won’t have a very strong influence from another- I hope you enjoy:))

All of these are currently on Fanfiction.Net but I do plan on adding fics from here on tumblr in the future, i just have to go through and find them

*ALSO- If I don’t specifically state that a fic is unfinished, assume that it’s done*

PONYBOY

The Origin of Asthma - “After a small incident while on a family trip to the lake, a young Ponyboy gets diagnosed with asthma.” K - Words: 2,120 -

In the Depth - “In his school essay, Ponyboy reflects on his soul and the dark depths where it resides.” T - Words: 1,234 -

Home For Thanksgiving - “It’s 1969. Michelle Randle has been away studying at NYU but has come home to Tulsa for a big family Thanksgiving. It’s 1969. Ponyboy Curtis has been away studying at Columbia University but has come home to Tulsa for a big family Thanksgiving. Both of them are hoping for a nice, calm, happy Thanksgiving - especially as it’s their first one together as a couple.” T - Words: 1,934 -

Prom Nights - “Ponyboy and Angela both being dateless on prom night sets off very interesting conversations, and more” T - Words: 3,152 -

Sneaking In - “Pony takes a risk when he helps his brothers sneak back in.” T - Words: 2,631 -

The Bear and His Boy - “It is a truth universally acknowledged among children that there is no truer friend than one’s childhood doll or bear and after all even greaser’s were children once.” K - Words: 1,542 -

the clouds will drift away - “She’s barely on the edge of 14 and the world already feels like it’s ending.“ K - OC - Words: 2,649 -

Dumb Drunk - “Ponyboy comes back home drunk and the gang decides to find out what he’s been hiding from them.” K+ - Words: 2,050 -

Snakes - “Young Pony never intended on becoming a writer” K - Words: 4,081 -

Eye of the Storm - “When Ponyboy was a baby, he was taken away and adopted by another family. Years later, he meets his brothers again. One-Shot. Ponyboy is aged down at the beginning.” K - Words: 6,365 -

strawberry lips - “his first kiss left him with the taste of strawberry on his tongue.” K+ - Words: 473 -

Multi-chapter

Ten Years Later - “Just my take on what things might be like ten years after the setting of the book.” T - Chapters: 19 - Words: 87,146 -

Maybe Someday - “For Ponyboy, it was only the story of his luckless romance. But in reality, it was so much more than that. Ponyboy’s problems are far from over as he continues to grow up on the rough side of Tulsa, and life gets more complicated by the day.” T - Chapters: 30 - Words: 86,720 -

Esoterically Yours - “Ponyboy Curtis meets an acquaintance he has been trying to dodge for years” T - Supernatural - Chapters: 21 - Words: 52,860 -

On a Long Road - “Sometimes, I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d never written that stupid theme. If I’d been allowed to stay with my brothers. If I hadn’t been forced to move from home to home.” T- - Chapters: 30 - Words: 133,229 - *ABUSE*

Out of the Blue - “After constant attempts by Mr. Syme at coaxing Ponyboy into sending his theme off to a publisher, he finally does it.” K+ - Chapters: 8 - Words: 19,292 -

*Series*

Splintered Ties That Bind - “One letter sent the family in different directions, each seeking the peace that comes only from being together. Time takes its toll, and love is bound by nothing” T - Chapters: 62 - Words: 118,974 -

Braided Ties - “Continuation of Splintered Ties That Bind, the brothers have found each other, and their lives move forward…Will things ever be the same?” T - Chapters: 21 - Words: 52,860 -

Summer Adventures - “The school year is over, and the lazy days of summer begin. Adventures -good and bad- loom on the horizon.” - T Chapters: 47 - Words: 166,736 -

Autumn Leaves - “Crisp air, falling temperatures - the summer is over. The Curtis brothers face a new set of challenges, and each will be forced to confront a pain they haven’t felt in nearly two years” - T - Chapters: 42 - Words: 127,663 -

Winter’s Soliloquy - “A new season, a new story. Ponyboy’s adventures in growing up with only his brothers and the gang to guide him continue.” T- Chapters: 23 - Words: 57,901 -

Spring’s Resurgence - ”Letting go of the past is hard enough, especially when the future is filled with uncertainties. Spring is calling; new life, new chances, new possibilities. A new adventure beckons them all.” T - Chapters: 34 - Words: 99,873 -

Wealth Versus Class - “We were studying The Great Gatsby at the time and yeah, I got that the book was saying Jay Gatsby could never be a part of the elite no matter how rich he became- but I had been looking at my own life- at real life- at girls like Cherry Valance and guys like Randy Anderson- and thinking the only thing that made us really any different was money.” K - Words: 1,739-

The Quarter - “’“I’m sorry I bothered you,” I called after him. “Must be a real pain having the vending machine right out here. People shaking it at all hours?” He stopped and looked back at me almost curiously. “Well, I don’t mind when they’re as cute as you.” I don’t know who blushed more deeply but I’d probably bet on him.‘” K- Words: 1,581 -

The Other Version - “"This wasn’t the gentle giant that carried spiders to safety when I threw my shoes at them. This person was steady and determined; ready to hit another person in the face for the sake of a few dollars.“ After an attempted mugging, Lizzy isn’t sure she knows Ponyboy as well as she thought.” K+ - Words: 1,999 -

Love Me Tender, Love Me True - “Lily Smith isn’t your typical Greaser girl. She wears decent clothes and doesn’t drink or smoke. Lily has skipped a grade in school and now she is all alone. That is until she meets Ponyboy Curtis and the gang. She and him fall for each other. The road to happiness is a bumpy one, but is always worth it in the end. Part One of "Love Me Tender” series.” T- OC - Chapters: 35 - Words: 135,241 -

All My Dreams Fulfilled - “Part Two of the “Love Me Tender” series.” T - OC - Chapters: 20 - Words: 118,700 - *NOT FINISHED*

SODAPOP

Due Diligence - “Trigonometry. Already the bane of Sodapop’s existence.” K+ - Words: 1,757 -

Dividing Lines - “Now that Sodapop’s reached high school, he’s suddenly aware of Darry’s godlike status and isn’t quite sure of where he stands.” T - Words: 4,911 -

I Don’t Understand - “The one time Sodapop doesn’t get it. The one time he doesn’t understand what pain his younger brother is bearing.” T - Words: 2,117 -

Telling Soda - “Jo Curtis has some important news to tell little Sodapop Curtis. One-Shot.” T- Words: 2,660 -

Multi-Chapter

Windward Circle - “This is the story of Dallas Winston’s little sister, Brooklyn. When Dally dies, her world falls apart. That is, until Sodapop Curtis swoops in and forces her to see that there is still good in the world.” T- Chapters: 29 - Words: 46,506 -

Lightnin’ Strikes - “‘That was Joanne. Met her at work today.’ Seems like a sensible place to start. Tie in to, and overlapping with, 'Our One Rule’ and 'Love Me Two Times’, but don’t tell Soda and Jo. As far as they’re concerned, this was always their own story…” T - Chapters: 32 - Words: 109,002 -

STEVE

20 Reasons - “20 reasons why Steve Randle severely dislikes – or so he likes to think – Ponyboy Curtis” T - Words: 1,354 -

Lighter Fluid - “Twenty facts about Steve Randle, in no particular order.” T - Words: 2,313 -

Stay with me (Just a little longer) - “He can’t stay. He knows that. He knows the longer he stays, the more it will hurt… but then, why is it so hard to go?” T - Words: 1,689 -

Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair - “Evie wasn’t the only woman in Steve Randle’s life. It’s just that this particular one sort of haunts him.” K+ - Words: 3,073 -

STEVE/EVIE

Apple Blossom - “You get it, he’s good looking. But he knows it, and you can’t stand that.” T - Words: 7,089 -

Bite Me - “Evie has a little explaining to do for the strange mark on her neck.” T - Words: 1,244 -

Can’t - “And for some reason I can’t keep my mind off him, and I don’t mind that at all.” T - Words: 980 -

Never Again

Emotions - “Evie Sanders’ eyes were planted on Steve Randle, and his eyes were, unfortunately, planted on a car.” T - Words: 1,249 -

Next Contestant - “Everyone knows Buck’s can get wild and crazy, but what they don’t know is that the very people they are befriending and talking to are willing to take advantage of them at any moment.” T - Words: 1,428 -

Only One - “All the girls fell for Sodapop Curtis. All except one.” K+ - Words: 836 -

Single Girl - “She only ever had eyes for Steve.” T - Words: 3,687 -

Turn This Engine On - “Steve is working late by himself at the DX, and Evie stops by for some extracurriculars.” T - Words: 2,224 -

Multi-chapter

Fatherhood - “Steve experinces the joys of being a dad and pounders the moments that led up to it.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,325 - *NOT FINISHED*

let’s pause this moment in time - “and I just wanted to say thanks, you’re the only reason I’ve smiled in days. :: a series of stevie drabbles.” T - Chapters: 6 - Words: 1,469 -

*Series*

The Only Kind - “'I knew that look. That look had been pulling me into trouble since kindergarten… ’ When Sandy gets Evie a date with Steve Randle, things begin to get complicated. Because Sandy and Sylvia have a hidden agenda and Evie’s getting caught up in the lies, at the same time as she’s falling for the guy she thought she disliked. Set in the months leading up to the book.” T - Chapters: 24 - Words: 73,218 -

Our Kind - “'Maybe Sylvia was right. Whatever I thought about her motives. Whatever I thought about her actual relationships. She did get the guy she wanted when she wanted him.’ Sandy’s gone, their lives are about to be turned upside down. Whose advice will Evie take and how far will she go, to get Steve back? Sequel to 'The Only Kind’.” T - Chapters: 24 - Words: 86,927 -

Our One Rule - “Evie and Steve are back together and everything is great. Until it isn’t. Because revenge is a way of life on the North Side and Evie is about to find out exactly how that works. Third story in series, following 'The Only Kind’ and 'Our Kind’.” T - Chapters: 26 -Words: 95,907 -

Love Me Two Times - “'He didn’t say it often, but when Steve Randle told me he loved me, I believed him. Of course, when he said that 'nothing in this world’ would keep us apart, I believed that too…’ Fourth story in series, following 'The Only Kind’, 'Our Kind’ and 'Our One Rule’.” T - Chapters: 30 - Words: 96,521 -

DARRY

ETOH - “Darry learns what happens to Ponyboy when left to his own vices.” T - Words: 2,854 -

He’s Wrong - “As she prepares for her senior prom, Audrey Holden is forced to face just how much people - and their opinions - can change in just a year.” K+ - Words: 2,692 -

Vivere Pro Aliis - “’You see me every day. We share a room. I spend more time with you than anyone else on the planet. And right now, I’m going to a movie with my friends, and you ain’t comin’.’” K+ - Words: 3,496 -

Slippery - “Wet floors can be a handful and rather surprising. You’ll never know where you slip. Darry/TwoBit” T - Words: 1,667 -

First String - “Darry knows making the football team could change his life.” T - Words: 2,985 -

Multi-chapter

Sticky Leaves - “Darry has lost his parents. Diana has lost her boyfriend. Maybe, in the end, they’ll both find something they can hold on to.” T - Chapters: 32 - Words: 124,496 -

DALLY

Beneath the Surface - “There’s more to their relationship than jail and cheating. No one else knows it, and half the time they don’t know it themselves. A collection of real moments in Dallas and Sylvia’s relationship.” T - Words: 3,853 -

*Series*

Arrogance and Aggression - “Arrogance and Aggression’ is a frothy Jane Austen-esque AU about love and friendship among the greasers (and their sisters). Dallas Winston is aggressive. Lucy Bennet is arrogant. Though she vows to hate him for the rest of her life, she begrudgingly realizes she may be wrong about him and about herself.” T - Chapters: 15 - Words: 63,651 -

Impatience and Impulsivity - “Lucy Bennet is impatient. Dallas Winston is impulsive. Somehow, they are still surprised when these traits eventually catch up to them and bite them in their backs.” T - Chapters: 12 - Words: 92,530 -

See My Friends - “The year 1968 was signalized by a single piece of mail, a terrible and senseless request, which undoubtedly, no one would ever forget.” T - Chapters: 8 - Words: 79,766 - *NOT FINISHED*

JOHNNY

The Date - “Johnny had just realized that Hanna Matthews is not a little child any longer” T - Words: 1,602 -

Late Hormones - “After finding a place to stay for the night, Johnny discovers an unusual change in his body which Dally helps him relieve.” M - Words: 2,564 -

Multi-Chapter

The adventures of Jonathan Cade and Dallas Winston - “What if after the murder Johnny went on the run alone, not taking Ponyboy with him. What if instead of Windrixville Dally told him to run to New York. Perfect for all you Johnny and Dally fans as well as everyone else.” K - Chapters: 11 - Words: 29,770 -

TWO-BIT

Crescent Moons - “Or, how Two-Bit Mathews got it in his head that seeing his daughter kissing his buddy’s son in the Sunday school classroom on Easter was the worst possible thing that could happen. Also, said daughter may or may not have an obsession with whether or not she’s named after the Virgin Mary. In short, the Easter of 1989 was one of the family’s weirder ones.” T - Words: 8,774 -

The Society Pages - “The society pages the next day spoke almost exclusively of how Two-Bit Mathews had been seen gallivanting around town with the newly crowned prom queen. Everyone agreed that Miss Stevens looked dazzling in her pink formal, and could pull off a tiara. And no, we still don’t know who slashed Steve Randle’s tires.“ T - Words: 7,349 -

TWO-BIT/KATHY

What Chicks Really Want - “Evie’s conversation with Two-Bit, regarding Kathy and what he ought to be doing.” T - Words: 1,564 -

First Date - “Two-Bit picks Kathy up for their first date … half an hour late.” T - Words: 3,572 -

Love Fool - “Three toxic words change everything, but is it for the better or worse?“ T - Words: 3,979 -

TWO-BIT/MARCIA

Banana Clip - “I got the usual for Christmas, thanks for asking. Mostly more librarian clothes […] I swear I have enough for a week straight now without having to wear one twice. One of them’s in that pink you like, though, so maybe you won’t make too much fun of me—not that I don’t love your two-bits (I know you think I’m funny). (Or, Marcia writes Two-Bit, half a world away.)” T - Words: 6,256 -

Keeper - “A post-book oneshot about Two-Bit and Marcia.” T - Words: 1,353 -

Multi-Chapter

Unlikely - “Two-Bit and Marcia run into each other a few months after that fateful night. What happens is, to say the least, surprising.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,258 -

GIRLS

The Girlfriend Coalition - “They weren’t really friends. They were just girls who knew each other because of who their boyfriends happened to be. Evie’s left to wonder if she’ll ever actually get to meet someone who likes her for her, who doesn’t hang around her just to keep up appearances.” T - Words: 3,110 -

Multi-Chapter

God Help the Girls - “…But with the girls, the rivalry was played out in near silence; psychological warfare. Nasty rumors and snide remarks. Girls will be girls, just as boys will be boys. It was that way all over America, and surely Tulsa was no different. But, no. It was oh so different in Tulsa.” T - Chapters: 20 - Words: 118,775 -

CURTIS FAMILY

The Detective - “You’re a detective and his eyes hold a mystery for you to solve.” K+ - Words: 1,591 -

The Birth - “The Curtis parents prepare for the birth of their second child.” K - Words: 1,041 -

The cake thief - “ Mrs Curtis. Verging on, if not complete, fluff…” K+ - Words: 969 -

A Mother’s Love - “A summer trip to visit Grandma takes an unexpected turn when someone shows up earlier than expected.” T - Words: 3,123 -

Solemn Simplicity - “The boys cope through their first Christmas without their parents and the recent loss of their friends.” T - Words: 2,811 -

Little Liar - “It’s Ponyboy’s first ever rumble, and the Curtis brothers try to hide it from their parents.” T - Words: 4,647 -

That’s My Boy! - “Everyone thought Darry was named in honor of his dad; they’re wrong.” T - Words: 920 -

Multi-Chapter

The Beginning - “Ponyboy isn’t the only Curtis with a story to tell.” T - Chapters: 10 - Words: 33,863 -

TIM

the more is my unrest - “Being the man of the house is a job with few benefits, but someone has to do it.” T - Words: 1,582 -

Breakfast With Shepard - “…Once we even found Tim Shepard, leader of the Shepard gang and far from his own turf, reading the morning paper in the armchair… What if Tim Shepard had decided to stay for breakfast?” M - Words: 2,314 -

Multi-Chapter

Going Back Home - “Tim Shepard drove out of Tulsa and swore he’d never return, but 14 years later a phone call brings him back to face the past.” T - Chapters: 14 - Words: 29,319 -

CURLY

Spin - “Little did Katie Mathews know that she didn’t need the luck of a coke bottle to kiss a certain greasy hood.” T - Words: 1,962 -

Totally worth it - “Pony goes to visit Curly in the reformatory” M - Words: 1,416 -

Multi-Chapter

Wild Ride - “To Ponyboy, Curly was the love of his life. To Curly, Ponyboy was just an expendable sex toy. Will Ponyboy bring back the Curly he supposedly remembers from their childhood, or will Ponyboy be left even more heartbroken than he already is?” M - Chapters: 25 - Words: 90,809 -

Curly Shepard Has A Plan - “Pony and Curly started 'going steady’ for a month. Pony didn’t want to go further until he was sure of himself, to which, 17 year old, Curly, frustratingly respected. Can a game of Truth or Dare changes things for better? Or for worse?” M - Chapters: 15 - Words: 14,597 -

ANGELA

They Were Gold - “Angela and Ponyboy used to be gold. But then…he changed them.” T - Words: 2,790 -

Young Girls - “When’s the last you fell in love, Angel?” T - Words: 8,746 -

Multi-Chapter

Trust - “As the youngest in her family Angela’s got a whole lot of reputation to live up to. Usually she enjoys the challenge, but when things go badly wrong there’s only ever one person she trusts to make things right.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 7,618 -

OTHER/OC POV

A Work of Art - “She never expected anyone to understand her—she expected them to learn from her, for through expression and knowledge deep within the soul is what brought art to life.” T - Words: 5,454 -

Looking back on a burning ember - “It has been twenty two years since the Windrexvill fire but Barbara has never forgotten the hero who saved her from the inferno.” K+ - Words: 1,025 -

I spent way too much time on this and i still havent added fics from tumblr yet and sbahkfdsbjfbjvbfsdfjb but pls do send any fics y’all like to me and ill add them:))

@insanitycaver @sunny-impalas @staygoldponebone @sodapopsundae

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flirting-with-psychology · 4 years ago

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survey by xxbieberburnham

A - Accidents Have you ever been in a car accident? No

Do you have a lot of scars? Some

Have you been in a fist fight with someone? No

Have you ever seriously hurt someone by accident? Not that I know of, but I have minorly hurt people by accident

Have you ever had stitches? Yes

B - Beauty Would consider yourself beautiful? It comes and goes. Not really lately

Are you self consicous of how you look? Yes

Do you wear a lot of make up? Not a ton, and none right now when I’m stuck at home all the time

Would you ever consider getting plastic surgery? I’ve thought about it a little but probably not

What do you think makes a person beautiful? It’s subjective and even for my opinion, it’s hard to give hard rules to it, they just either are or they’re not

C - Consequences What is the longest you’ve been grounded for? Probably a few weeks

What would you do if you became pregnant? Get an abortion

Do you ever think about how your actions affect people? Sometimes

What do you think is the worst punishment someone could give you? Something permanent, like permanently disabling me or killing someone I love

What is one thing you wish you didn’t do because it wasn’t worth it? Idk

D - Dealing When you’re mad at someone how do you show it? I can get passive aggressive with my boyfriend, with my parents I argue with them

Name a time when you had to be strong. When I had braces

Have you ever dealt with divorce? My parents got divorced

When people don’t accept you, how do you react? Get self conscious and probably more boring and awkward

Have you ever lost someone to death? Yes, my grandpa, my cats, and some more distant family members

F - Family Is there anyone in your family you don’t talk to? Most of my extended family I don’t talk to much just because we never got close

If you had to choose: friends or family? Family

Do you have any siblings? No

How often do you spend quality time with your family? More than I would like

G - Growing How tall are you? Do you wish you were taller or shorter? I’m 5′6″ and I like my height

Do you think you’ve grown up in the past year? No

Do you think you’re mature for your age or still childish? Still childish

Are you scared to think that one day you’ll turn 30, then 40 & 50? Yes, it feels like I’m running out of time

Do you believe you still have a lot to learn? Yeah

H - Hope Love - real or not? Real

Are you a pessimist or an optimist? I’d say I’m a stressimist - I hope for the best but I have too much anxiety

Do you believe in fate or that everything happens for a reason? No

Do you believe that after we die, your spirit is still alive? Probably not

What gives you hope when you just feel like dying? That things will change

I - Idols Who is your idol? I don’t really have one

What makes this person an idol to you? - Has this person done anything good to help other people? - Does this person have good style? - What does this person do for a living? - J - Jokes Tell me an inside joke between you and your friends. Blender

Are you usually the person to make people laugh or the other way around? Other people make me laugh

Do you cry when you laugh hard? Not usually

Do you get in trouble for laughing or talking in class? Like once or twice ever

Are you good at making jokes? Sometimes

K - Knowledge The prupose of school: learn, hang with friends or cause trouble? Learn and develop a social life

Do people refer to you as dumb, smart or average? School smart but street dumb

What kind of grades do you usually get? As in high school, As and Bs in college

What is your favorite subject to learn or talk about? Science, lately

L - Love Are you currently in love? Not quite

Do people around you show a lot of love? Some do

Is love worth it? Yes

Do you hate it when people say “I love you” & they’ve been dating for a day? It’s a little weird

Does it take a lot for you to say you love someone or is it just a word? It depends

M - Money Do you believe money makes the world go round? Currently yes

How much money do you have on you now? Like $15 in cash

Are you saving up for anything? Not really

Would you rather win 1 million dollars or find true love? Right now in my life, probably a million dollars. I would like true love at some point but I’m not ready for it yet and a million dollars would really improve my situation

On a scale 1-10, how important is money to you? 8

N - Nothing to lose Would you ever go on a game show? Maybe but probably not

Do you play the lottery? Yeah

Ever been to Las Vegas? Yes

Have you ever made a bet and then lost? Not major

Do you give your all in a relationship? I think so

O - Openess How long does it take you to open up with someone? It depends. And it’s gradual

What does it take for you to fully trust someone? A lot apparently

Do you trust people too easily? In some ways. I trust strangers to be honest too easily

Are you comfortable with everyone? No

Do you tell your parents and friends everything? Most things

P - Positive Is your outlook on life positive or negative? Negative lately

Have you ever had a moment with someone & it didn’t end positively? Several times

Do you agree with: best to have loved than never loved at all? Yeah

Do you see most things as negative or positive? Depends

Has anything bad happened but something good came from it? Some. In college there was one night where I went home early from a dance because a guy I liked didn’t like me back, but I came home at exactly the right time to meet a different guy (it didn’t work out with him but we became good friends)

Q - Questions When faced with a problem, do you solve it on your own or ask for help? Usually ask for help

Do you like to take quizzes? Yes

If you could ask the president one question, what would it be? Why are the democrats being such cowards to the republicans?

When someone does something wrong do you ask them about it or let it go? Depends on how well I like them

Do you own plaid shorts? Don’t think so

R - Respect How do you show respect for someone? Idk, being polite

What can someone do to lose respect for them? Be a jerk or a huge idiot

Do you respect your parents, teachers or authority? I respect my parents although I don’t always show it, and I respect most teachers. I show respect for authority most of the time but I don’t always feel it

If you’re disrespectful to your parents, whats your punishment? Getting yelled at mostly, sometimes getting things or privileges taken away

If someone is mean to you, are you mean back? I can be passive aggressive

S - School If you’re still in school, what grade will you be going into? I’m done with school When will you graduate high school/college? I graduated college in 2017

After high school, what do you plan on doing? I planned on going to college and I did

Do you like or hate school? I liked school and I wish I could go back

Have you ever been expelled or suspended? No

T - Temptation Have you ever done something wrong but inside it was okay? I have justified things to myself

Has anyone ever pressured you to smoke or drink? Not really

Did you ever cheat on someone? No

Do you give into temptation easily or are you independent? I give in very easily to snacks, shopping, and procrastination

U - Unique Do you do a lot of things because your friends are? Not really, my friends don’t do enough things so I often have to go off on my own

Do you follow trends or do whatever you want? Maybe a little but only if I like the trend, otherwise I don’t

Do you give in easily to peer pressure? Depends. If I have strong feelings about it then no but if I’m neutral then I go along to fit in

What makes you different from people your age? I still want to be doing college things

V - Value What’s the most expensive thing in your room? My laptop

What’s more valuable: your life or the ones around you? My life, sorry I’m selfish

What’s something you value? Not because it’s expensive but it means a lot? Sentimental stuff, I can never throw anything away

If there was a fire in your house/apartment what would you grab? My laptop, my crush log, my favorite stuffed animals

Do you think the past or future is more valuable? The future

W - Wishes If you had three wishes, what would they be? Shapeshifting powers, unlimited money, immune to disease

Would you rather wish yourself to be happy or others? Myself

Do you believe that wishes come true if you really believe? Not just from believing

Have you ever had a wish come true? Yes

Do you find wishing on things to be a waste of time? No, it doesn’t take much time

Y - You Are you more independent or social? In between. I’m more social than my introverted friends but more introverted than my social friends

What’s something that makes you mad when you see it? Customers putting things back in extremely wrong places

Do you have potential to do anything you want? I don’t feel like it lately

Do you believe people are born a certain way? In some ways

What color are your eyes? Brown

Z - Zest Are you currently happy with your life? No

When change occurs, do you get scared? Usually

Do you like to try new things or meet new people? In theory and sometimes in practice

What is the most motivational thing on earth? Having a passion

Do you have a motto? Carpe diem?

Last questions Do you hate how the letters on the keyboard aren’t in ABC order? Not anymore

Do you drink water? Yes

What did you have for breakfast? Toad in the holes

Do you like convertibles? They’re cool to ride in every so often, but I wouldn’t want to own one

Do you like the American or British way of spelling words? American

What colors are on your country’s flag? Red, white, and blue

Can you skateboard? Not even a little bit

Do you like long hair? Yes on girls, sometimes on guys if they know how to take care of it. I like having it on me

Do you like Fiber One bars? No

What does your sleeping bag look like? Gold outside, red plaid inside

Do you like to save your results after a survey? I have a survey tag

Do you like Sour Patch Kids? Yes If you could have your own show, what would it be about? Maybe something like Black Mirror where each episode is a different concept

Ever rode on a jet? Yes

#survey

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sunshineweb · 4 years ago

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The Biggest Killer of Investment Returns

Somewhere, right this very moment, an investor you know of is having more fun than you. He has made a lot of money – more than you – in the stock market surge of the past few months. And you missed out on it.

In fact, you may even know of someone who owns all the stocks that are rising, and you are cursing yourself for not being that person, plus envying him.

Not just that, looking at your portfolio you realize that somewhere, something isn’t right. There’s one stock, or maybe more, that hasn’t done much even when other stocks you don’t own have skyrocketed.

I know this affects you, annoys you. And that’s a normal emotion to have, and one you have no control over, which is also normal. Your lizard brain – part of the brain that is responsible for primitive survival instincts such as aggression and fear – is hardwired to behave that way.

So, even when you own more assets and privileges than you could have imagined by this age, and are reasonably happy in your life outside stocks, you feel terrible because you missed out on a few stocks that have done wonders for other investors you know of.

Wait, I haven’t even touched upon social media that profits not just from connecting us, but mostly from magnifying emotions we don’t want in the long run. Need proof? Remember when you were having a great day recently, someone posted on Twitter how a stock he had bought three years back had turned into a 30-bagger?

“Huh! Big deal!” you had exclaimed, and then went back to your portfolio only to realize that the best performer there was, maybe, a 5-bagger and, that too, over a five-year period. Your day was ruined!

Let me tell you something about myself that only my family and close friends know. I have this recurring dream, while I sleep at night, that I am missing my train. And not by a far distance, but that I am running after it only to see it disappear in thick smoke.

I have seen this dream so many times that I have never missed a train or a flight ever. How? Because this fear of missing out leads me to reach railway stations an hour and airports minimum two hours in advance. Thanks to this fear, I am rarely late for meetings too.

So the fear of missing out, what scientists call FOMO, isn’t such a bad thing as far as its role in our lives is concerned. In investing, though, it often leads us to big problems.

A lot – I am willing to bet, most – of the decisions we take as investors are driven by FOMO or the fear of missing out on the gains others are making or have made in recent times. This, by the way, is also a result of another deadly emotion i.e., envy.

I have been guilty of buying a few stocks in my early investment career – the 2005-2007 period – under the influence of FOMO plus envy. I made some money on some of those stocks because we were then in a bull market. But, net-net, I suffered.

And not just with me who started investing only in 2003, I am sure FOMO existed even with investors in 1983 and 1993. But we have now taken this fear far beyond, thanks to the supercomputers in our pockets, and amplified by our usage of social media. In fact, media and social media brings FOMO right to you, wherever you are, with a mere beep or vibration or with opening and closing bells.

FOMO isn’t such a bad emotion to have in general, especially because it can help you avoid missing trains and flights. However, when it comes to investing, the dangerous side of FOMO comes to light when investors act under its influence and buy stuff they either don’t need, or don’t understand, or shouldn’t touch.

Not just mortals like you and me, even the world’s best investors have suffered from FOMO from time to time and have hurt their wealth and reputations. Like Stanley Druckenmiller who bought tech stocks at, well, near the top of market in 2000 because he had two internal managers who were making about 5% a day and he just couldn’t stand missing out on the party. He put billions of dollars in within hours of the top. And then, his portfolio return was destroyed over the next few months.

Now, there’s no point poking fun at even Mr. Druckenmiller who may have fought and lost against his brain that missed evolving even over a thousand years.

Talking about the brain, let me bring in Yuval Harari here, who wrote this brilliant book titled Sapiens, chronicling the history of our species. In this book, he talks about a ‘gorging gene’ theory –

…we need to delve into the hunter-gatherer world that shaped us, the world that we subconsciously still inhabit.

Why, for example, do people gorge on high-calorie food that is doing little good to their bodies? Today’s affluent societies are in the throes of a plague of obesity, which is rapidly spreading to developing countries. It’s a puzzle why we binge on the sweetest and greasiest food we can find, until we consider the eating habits of our forager forebears.

In the savannahs and forests they inhabited, high-calorie sweets were extremely rare and food in general was in short supply. A typical forager 30,000 years ago had access to only one type of sweet food – ripe fruit. If a Stone Age woman came across a tree groaning with figs, the most sensible thing to do was to eat as many of them as she could on the spot, before the local baboon band picked the tree bare. The instinct to gorge on high-calorie food was hard-wired into our genes.

Today we may be living in high-rise apartments with over-stuffed refrigerators, but our DNA still thinks we are in the savannah. That’s what makes us spoon down an entire tub of Ben & Jerry’s when we find one in the freezer and wash it down with a jumbo Coke.

So, well, the need to gorge on all available sweet fruit under the fear of missing it out to the local baboon remains with us to date. We gorge on the food we know is bad for us, and stocks we understand may be risky to us. This is because we fear missing out on the instant gratification we may get from consuming/buying them.

In such situations, our lizard brain is on high alert to make sure that everything is okay with us. The lizard brain can’t rest until it knows that everyone likes us and our portfolio of stocks, and that all price charts are moving up north, and that we are all set towards an assured bright future.

But of course, as you may have witnessed or heard from older investors, the future (and the present) of the stock market isn’t perfect. It can never be. And when you combine this i.e., the imperfections of the market, with imperfections of our brains that causes the FOMO, you get a cocktail that is often deadly because it is not handled carefully.

What is more, this cocktail of fear caused by FOMO and our intrinsic need to be happy lays the ground for us to be, well, unhappy and dissatisfied with our present state of being, including our present portfolio of stocks. We are always searching for something newer, brighter, exciting, and more profitable.

You see, it’s sometimes good to be dissatisfied as an investor when it comes to working hard in search of finding ideas. That way, your dissatisfaction is a product of your inner scorecard. However, when this dissatisfaction is caused by measuring yourself against the instant updates on what others are doing, buying, and shouting about, that’s what causes you much pain and leads you to poor decision making.

I have learned this lesson the hard way, and have been lucky to turn my FOMO into JOMO, which is the ‘joy of missing out.’ I still do stupid things as far as my investments are concerned, but I take complete responsibility for those stupidities, and that keeps me away from repeating my mistakes.

I can understand that FOMO is a powerful motivator, but also understand that it often causes even the smartest of investors to do stupid things, like go all out at the worst possible moment, a la Druckenmiller. It’s one of the biggest killers of investment returns.

Missing out on the glitter is fine, my dear friend. It’s fine seeing your friends, especially the ones on Twitter and Facebook, get richer faster from the stocks they own that you don’t.

If you have been in the stock market for long, you may have witnessed people who had never invested before piling into stocks, unknown and unworthy, just out of the fear of missing out.

If yes, you also know how that ended.

The post The Biggest Killer of Investment Returns appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

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theflufffactor · 5 years ago

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Is the Science of Motivation the Best Motivational Book?

Best Motivational Book Ever?

Is The Science of Motivation the best motivational book? While I have read many books on motivation, this one was controversial first, and motivating second. This is written in an interview form, instead of like a book. I listened through audio, so it was great to hear the two speakers talk back and forth. I think that helped the book move quite quickly and also helped me to know who was speaking.

What I loved

The parts I loved, I really loved. There was so much about motivation, although a bit shorter on this subject for a book called The Science of Motivation, that I wound up taking notes, which I'll talk about on my blog and vlog later. Quite a bit of this does point fingers at the lack of motivation and why people in today's age are lacking so much. There are reasons like, bad habits, checking social media before you even get started with the day, which honestly could be filed under bad habit, and simply letting yourself get distracted. There are way too many shinies out in the world today! He also discusses the idea of multitasking. I have heard before that multitasking is actually not a thing, and he says it again here. When you think you're multitasking, what you're doing instead is dividing your attention so not only does one task not get finished, but depending on how divided your time is, maybe you won't accomplish anything in your day. Another no no to this is checking email every time it dings. I know I am terrible with picking my phone up when I hear an alert, so when I'm busy, I turn off the sound. I don't even let it vibrate so I know it won't distract me! Simple and easy, yet effective.

The idea of this being a book about motivation, seems like it missed the mark some. Yes, there are portions about motivation, but considering we're talking about keeping on task, he goes off task quite a bit. Many times he talks about politics and every time I wanted to speed through the book. Not because I'm not interested in politics but it definitely seemed like he was leaning a particular way, which is perfectly fine, but I don't want to listen to that in a book about motivation. All that did was motivated me to turn off the book.

The Controversial:

Although there are great ideas in this, and like I said I did take quite a few notes for things I want to go back and reread or even delve into more, there was quite a bit of the book where I was just turned off. There was one part where he blames a woman for talking on the phone when her child got out of the door and drowned in a jacuzzi. That poor family is devastated and he apathetically talks about how she was "talk talk talk talking" on the phone while her child was drowning. This in a chapter about hedging your bets to ensure that nothing bad happens. Unfortunately, you can do everything to keep your children safe and they can still get hurt! He went on to say that he never let his children out of his site until they were in their 20's! As a mom, I know this is not true. Your child has to take showers, they have to sleep. YOU have to sleep. Fortunately, this was about 3/4 of the way through the book, maybe a tad bit more, so I fast forwarded through some of this and moved along. While the book is excellent in parts, and I do recommend it, I also recommend reading with a grain of salt. He has an ego, and yes as someone that has studied psychology as extensively as he has, he is allowed to have one, but I didn't pick the book up to hear about his billionaire friends, or to hear him pat himself on the shoulder time and time again. I picked it up because I love psychology and we can all use a bit more motivation. He's the leading psychologist on many subjects so I will endure reading his literature because I am curious enough to want to put my difference aside, but if you are not a lover of psychology, and are just curious about motivation, I would say to find another book.

More on motivation:

I recently also listened to a wonderful Tedx Talk, How to Motivate Yourself to Change your Behavior by Dr. Tali Sharot that explains a bit more about why motivation is so hard today. She talks about three major factors in this talk. I go further in depth about those factors in Changing Your Worst Behaviors to Motivate Yourself for 2020 and how they affect our every day lives and what we can do to motivate ourselves using her three points. The Tedx Talk is just shy of 17 minutes but worth the time! Or, hang out and go to the post that specifically talks about her Tedx Talk in more detail!

Do you have a New Year's Resolution for 2020? Do you think they help or hurt your motivation?

Brian Tracy is Chairman and CEO of Brian Tracy International, a company specializing in the training and development of individuals and organizations. He has consulted for more than 1,000 companies and addressed more than 5,000,000 people in 5,000 talks and seminars throughout the US, Canada and 55 other countries worldwide. As a Keynote speaker and seminar leader, he addresses more than 250,000 people each year. Brian has studied, researched, written and spoken for 30 years in the fields of economics, history, business, philosophy and psychology. He is the top selling author of over 45 books that have been translated into dozens of languages. He has written and produced more than 300 audio and video learning programs, including the worldwide, best-selling Psychology of Achievement, which has been translated into more than 20 languages. He speaks to corporate and public audiences on the subjects of Personal and Professional Development, including the executives and staff of many of America's largest corporations. His exciting talks and seminars on Leadership, Selling, Self-Esteem, Goals, Strategy, Creativity and Success Psychology bring about immediate changes and long-term results. Prior to founding his company, Brian Tracy International, Brian was the Chief Operating Officer of a $265 million dollar development company. He has had successful careers in sales and marketing, investments, real estate development and syndication, importation, distribution and management consulting. He has conducted high level consulting assignments with several billion-dollar plus corporations in strategic planning and organizational development. He has traveled and worked in over 80 countries on six continents, and speaks four languages. Brian is happily married and has four children. He is active in community and national affairs, and is the President of three companies headquartered in San Diego, California. His most popular training programs are centered around teaching authors how to write a book and helping public speakers create successful careers. Read the full article

#motivation #psychology

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gracieyvonnehunter · 5 years ago

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The best $2,000 I ever spent: many, many rounds of bingo

Dana Rodriguez for Vox

It’s the one activity where money becomes more magical and less weighty.

The one time in my life, aside from sleeping, when I’m not obsessing about money is when I’m playing bingo. I know that sounds ironic, but bingo is my mental escape, offering a few hours where the numbers in front of me all start with a letter, not a dollar sign.

I’ve been in debt my entire adult life, first with student loans from undergrad and the law school I never graduated from, then from living above my means — not hard to do on a $40,000 New York City salary.

In my 20s and 30s, I ignored my debt, thinking it would somehow eventually resolve itself (how, I’m not sure, but I assumed more money would simply materialize the older I got). When, at 40, I realized that wasn’t quite how real life worked, I dedicated myself to earning as much as I could as a freelancer, with a mix of book royalties, articles, and a part-time copywriting gig.

The downside of self-employment is I never feel like I can truly be “off.” There’s always a potential story at my fingertips, and thereby a way to chip away at my looming debt, which hovers at a little over $50,000.

My local bingo hall is my happy place, somewhere I can go any night of the week and know I’ll leave with a smile on my face no matter what the outcome. It’s the one activity that lets me escape, well, me, where money becomes more magical and less weighty.

I live within walking distance of a bingo hall that offers games every evening, plus an additional 10:30 Tuesday night game, and Friday morning and Sunday afternoon games. Over the last four years, I’ve attended almost all of them, and win or lose, each was money well spent.

Entry costs $5, for the bare minimum number of two boards for 12 rounds, but I never play the minimum. You can buy extras for a dollar or two, depending on the value of the round; most offer $100 or $200 jackpots, with some rounds for larger amounts ranging from $1,000 to over $4,000, depending on how much has been bet. The first night I attended I spent around $30 and won $200, thus turning me into an instant convert. Now, I usually spend around $50 each time I go.

Lately, that’s every few months, but after the 2016 election I played bingo several times a week to help me forget about the news. I was a drag queen bingo regular in the East Village in the ’90s, but there we were competing for Queer as Folk DVD box sets and giant glasses filled with margaritas. This is serious, adult bingo, the kind where you’ll get shushed for talking too loudly.

The bingo hall is a place where I can forget about myself for two hours. For that small slice of time, I’m not a failed adult riddled with debt. I’m simply a middle-aged white lady with a dabber in her hand. All those money worries and existential angsty thoughts that rush to the surface whenever I have a free moment — Will be able to retire someday? Will I ever be a mom? What if [insert horrible catastrophe befalling anyone in my family]? — I can push to the back burner and focus solely on getting five stamps in a row, or a pyramid or four corners, or whatever variation of the game we’re playing at that particular moment.

I’d be lying if I said the prospect of winning doesn’t motivate me to settle in alongside women 30 and 40 years my senior, who come armed with special bingo bags that hold a rainbow array of dabbers and tape to fasten their boards together. Money, of course, is the main reason any of us lurk at the bingo hall. Another reason I stopped going to casinos is that the only games I like, slot machines, have the lowest odds. After reading that, I couldn’t quite bring myself to revel in their blinking lights and beckoning noises.

With bingo, I’ve never stopped to look up the odds (please don’t tell me if they’re bad). Instead, I let myself sink into a fantasy world where I fully believe that I just might walk away with a stack of cash. All that’s required of me is to stamp red or green or purple blobs of ink onto a piece of pre-printed paper. I love the sense of excitement that washes over me at the start of each new round — all those blanks squares, all those possible chances.

With bingo, I’ve never stopped to look up the odds. Instead, I let myself sink into a fantasy world where I fully believe that I just might walk away with a stack of cash.

When my boyfriend and I moved within 10 minutes of Atlantic City, I worried that the lure of the casinos would be impossible to resist. Yet one evening in a smoky local casino cured any romanticism I might have had. I don’t know how to play casino games like poker or craps, and I don’t care to. I don’t want to think too much when I’m hoping to catch a financial windfall, or for it to feel like work, but I do want my mind to be occupied.

Bingo fills that purpose perfectly. There’s no free time to stare dazedly at Twitter. I can’t slack off or I’ll miss a number being called. The avid players know to look up at the TV screens to see which number will be called next before it’s actually spoken. Bingo makes me feel like I’m an active participant who, with a combination of luck and alertness, has a chance of winning. Bingo is full of colorful markers, breathless anticipation, and quick reflexes, surrounded by people who are a little more relaxed than the average casino-goer. Regular players give advice to newcomers, call out happy birthday to each other, and root for their friends as much as themselves. What I’ve learned is that I don’t actually love gambling; I love bingo.

I allow myself to be fully immersed in the drama. I double and triple check my cards, mentally noting which ones are close to winning and which ones are duds. I rub the orange hair of the troll doll I bought on my first visit. I silently chant “I-18” or “G-57” until the combination echoes in my mind. There’s a ripple of energy that races around the room when someone is about to hit bingo, knowledge that is transmitted either through a small gasp passed as if playing an almost-silent game of telephone or a collective Spidey sense shared by the players.

The few times my good-luck tactics have actually “worked” and I’ve looked up at the screen to see my number about to be called, I’ve felt euphoric. It’s what I imagine winning a game show — my ultimate bucket list item — would be like. I don’t care whether it’s luck or chance or fate. In that moment, I’m not, for once, thinking about the money. My entire being is focused simply on hearing that magic letter and number spoken into the microphone by the person sitting behind that spinning wheel, at which point I can shoot my hand in the air and call out as loud as I can, “BINGO!” There are no other moments in my life where I get to literally yell out a victory.

There are no other moments in my life where I get to literally yell out a victory

That possibility is truly why I play bingo. For $50, I get to spend an afternoon or evening utterly caught up in the dramatic highs and lows of being three away, then two, then one. I know going in that I have just as much of a chance as anyone else in the room.

While the result may be just as predetermined and out of my control as playing the lottery, bingo feels more active, like if I pay close enough attention, I just might win. History has shown that I truly might; I’ve won four times, out of approximately 40 visits, totaling $1,350 (with one momentous Super Bowl payout of $1,000). I’ve spent around $2,000 by my estimation, so my total losses are $750.

Given those numbers, you might assume I’m just sinking myself deeper into debt, and technically, you’d be right. But I’m purchasing much more than that potential chance to become a champion. I’m buying myself a temporary shortcut to mental health, a reprieve from that constant inner refrain that loops from you’ll never be good enough to why even bother trying. Unlike casinos, I never sense that the people around me are gambling with their rent money in a last-ditch effort to get rich. We’re all playing bingo, with an emphasis on play. With bingo, I don’t have to be smart or ambitious. I’m not being measured by my net worth, or anything else.

In lottery player parlance, I’m a dreamer, someone who sees their gambling as the “chance to fantasize about winning money.” A bingo victory feels likely enough that it makes sense to try, while knowing that what I could potentially win during any given round, while exciting, wouldn’t change my life. At best, I’d pay down a small fraction of my debt. Competing for a welcome but not mind-boggling amount of money, though, feels more sane and satisfying than wondering if I’ll win the next Mega Millions.

Plus, bingo is more communal, and more fun; in that room, I’m a dreamer surrounded by dreamers. I know that someone in the same room as me will be walking away the big winner. I can say congratulations, and see the look on their face when they win — and know it might be me next time.

Rachel Kramer Bussel writes about sex, dating, books, culture, and herself. She is the editor of over 60 anthologies, including the Cleis Press Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series.

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timalexanderdollery · 5 years ago

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The best $2,000 I ever spent: many, many rounds of bingo

Dana Rodriguez for Vox

It’s the one activity where money becomes more magical and less weighty.

With bingo, I’ve never stopped to look up the odds. Instead, I let myself sink into a fantasy world where I fully believe that I just might walk away with a stack of cash.

There are no other moments in my life where I get to literally yell out a victory

Rachel Kramer Bussel writes about sex, dating, books, culture, and herself. She is the editor of over 60 anthologies, including the Cleis Press Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/35fkdb5

#Vox - All

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shanedakotamuir · 5 years ago

Text

The best $2,000 I ever spent: many, many rounds of bingo

Dana Rodriguez for Vox

It’s the one activity where money becomes more magical and less weighty.

With bingo, I’ve never stopped to look up the odds. Instead, I let myself sink into a fantasy world where I fully believe that I just might walk away with a stack of cash.

There are no other moments in my life where I get to literally yell out a victory

Rachel Kramer Bussel writes about sex, dating, books, culture, and herself. She is the editor of over 60 anthologies, including the Cleis Press Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/35fkdb5

#Vox - All

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its-glum-and-dumb · 7 years ago

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Screw it I’m doing them all

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

I don’t know. I’m not exactly the touchy person. It was probably my friend.

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

Shy. Definitely shy. I mean, there’s certain people I’m outgoing around but I’m mostly shy.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

My friend Jonathan when I’m home for Thanksgiving :D

4. Are you easy to get along with?

I like to think I am.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

Considering I don’t like anyone, I’m gonna say no

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

People that make me happy. If they can make me smile, laugh, or I just really like talking or being around them, that usually makes me develop feelings for them.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

Probably not. I don’t do relationships haha 8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

My friend Jon because he was just in an answer haha 9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

Not usually. But my friend and I roleplay and I’m only just starting to not skip over the sex stuff 10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

My friend Sheri 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

“Call me when you get a chance. I have a couple questions about your tv” 12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

It’s All Coming Back to Me Now –Glee Version (I’m in love with Lea Michele’s voice)

Shiksa Goddess –The Last Five Years

King of New York –Newsies

Don’t Rain On My Parade –Glee (Again- Lea Michele’s voice is magic-)

I Won’t Say I’m In Love –Susan Egan 13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

Not really no 14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

nope 15. What good thing happened this summer?

I got back in contact with an old friend and I started a job I actually liked 16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Never kissed anyone so I’m gonna say no 17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

I mean, there’s always that chance 18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

Nope! Couldn’t even tell you who it was but I don’t talk to anyone from that time. 19. Do you like bubble baths?

I guess? 20. Do you like your neighbors?

I mean, they’re okay. We don’t really talk anymore 21. What are you bad habits?

Nail biting, apologizing too much, complaining 22. Where would you like to travel?

Pretty much all over Europe, starting with Paris 23. Do you have trust issues?

You bet. 24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

Sleeping counts right? 25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

I have to pick one part? 26. What do you do when you wake up?

Grab my phone lol 27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

DARKER. I’M A FREAKING GHOST 28. Who are you most comfortable around?

Definitely my friend Jon 29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

I don’t really talk to any of them anymore but a small part of me regrets breaking up with my ex girlfriend because I really did care about her 30. Do you ever want to get married?

Maybe if I meet the right person but I don’t see that happening like ever 31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?

It was, but since I chopped it off, nope. 32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

Ben Cook for sure and uhhhh. Dove Cameron. :D 33. Spell your name with your chin.

Czgndefined. Dear god. That was an epic fail. It’s Catherine guys 34. Do you play sports? What sports?

HA. HA HA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. 35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

TV. Definitely TV 36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

All the time 37. What do you say during awkward silences?

Nothing. I just rock back and forth on my heels haha 38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

Funny, goofy but knows when to be serious, genuinely cares about me and makes sure I know it, good sense of humor, understands my sense of humor, is able to calm me down when I get panicky, and yeah. Just stuff like that 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

Hot Topic, Claire’s (for the paris stuff), Box Lunch, and Walmart lol 40. What do you want to do after high school?

Um, I’ve already graduated so I guess just continue in college? 41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

I think everyone deserves a second chance but after that, if they make the same mistake, they’re done 42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

I’m usually overthinking something or just really sad 43. Do you smile at strangers?

I try to smile at people and compliment at least one person every day bc you never know what people are going through 44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

Space. Most fish freak me out. 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

The fact that I’m paying hundreds of dollars for the classes and literally can’t afford to miss them? 46. What are you paranoid about?

Where to begin? 47. Have you ever been high?

nope 48. Have you ever been drunk?

nope 49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

Not that I can think of off the top of my head? 50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Black? 51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Every day. That’s why I put my name as Catherine 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

Does everything count? No? Um. Probably my brain. 53. Favourite makeup brand?

Depends. For lipstick I like Loreal and Revlon and for everything else, I like Maybelline 54. Favourite store?

Probably Hot Topic 55. Favourite blog?

@almostoyster 56. Favourite colour?

Blue or red 57. Favourite food?

Pasta <3 58. Last thing you ate?

A cupcake 59. First thing you ate this morning?

Chimichangas at noon haha 60. Ever won a competition? For what?

Nope! 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

Nope! 62. Been arrested? For what?

Nope! 63. Ever been in love?

Once. Never again 64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

Can’t do that 65. Are you hungry right now?

I’m always hungry 66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

I consider my tumblr friends to be my real friends, thank you very much 67. Facebook or Twitter?

Facebook, but then again, I don’t have Ben Cook or AKB on facebook so… 68. Twitter or Tumblr?

TUMBLR 69. Are you watching tv right now?

nope 70. Names of your bestfriends?

Sheri, Ali, Jon, Hannah, Alyssa, and Marissa 71. Craving something? What?

candy 72. What colour are your towels?

Yellow and gray 72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

2 as pillows and 1 as a cuddle buddy 73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

I have so many (koala, dog, eeyore, toothless, 2 pillow pets, and several bears) but I don’t actually sleep with them 74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

See the previous answer 75. Favourite animal?

Kitties :D 76. What colour is your underwear?

purple 77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

Depends on what I’m eating 78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

COOKIE DOUGH 79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

gray 80. What colour pants?

Blue 81. Favourite tv show?

Can’t pick, I have too many 82. Favourite movie?

Probably Newsies at the moment 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

Mean Girls. It’s a classic! 84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

Mean girls, hands down. 85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

Janis 86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

The one that’s obsessed with bubbles 87. First person you talked to today?

Hannah <3 88. Last person you talked to today?

Hannah lol 89. Name a person you hate?

homophobes 90. Name a person you love?

My friends 91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

probably 92. In a fight with someone?

Not that I can think of 93. How many sweatpants do you have?

Four? 94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

seven 95. Last movie you watched?

The Last Five Years 96. Favourite actress?

Dove Cameron 97. Favourite actor?

Jeremy Jordan 98. Do you tan a lot?

Nope. Whenever I try, I burn 99. Have any pets?

nope 100. How are you feeling?

Okay I guess 101. Do you type fast?

yep 102. Do you regret anything from your past?

Quite a lot actually 103. Can you spell well?

I got third place in a spelling bee. You tell me. 104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

definitely 105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

Yep! 106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

I hate thinking of this but probably 107. Have you ever been on a horse?

I love horseback riding 108. What should you be doing?

A powerpoint for class 109. Is something irritating you right now?

The fact that I can��t get myself motivated 110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

definitely 111. Do you have trust issues?

absolutely 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

I don’t remember because I try to not do it 113. What was your childhood nickname?

AlyCat 114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

On vacation, yeah 115. Do you play the Wii?

Yep! We had to throw it away because it stopped working but we might get a new one 116. Are you listening to music right now?

Of course! 117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

Yep! I usually only eat it when I’m sick though 118. Do you like Chinese food?

Yep! 119. Favourite book?

Hm. Either Beyond the Garden Arbor by Cynthia Jean Mueller, The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, The Breakable Vow by Kathryn Anne Clarke, or Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt 120. Are you afraid of the dark?

sometimes 121. Are you mean?

I try not to be 122. Is cheating ever okay?

no 123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

I’ve honestly stopped trying 124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

nope 125. Do you believe in true love?

I believe that some people happen to find it, but I don’t believe that I will 126. Are you currently bored?

always 127. What makes you happy?

Newsies, my friends, music, and reading 128. Would you change your name?

I’m actually thinking about legally changing it, yeah 129. What your zodiac sign?

Scorpio 130. Do you like subway?

Yep but Jersey Mike’s is the best sub place 131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Panic and probably push myself away from him. I’m not going down that road again 132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

My sister 133. Favourite lyrics right now?

134. Can you count to one million?

Probably but who’s got that kinda time? 135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

Man, I don’t know 136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

Closed bc they close automatically. They’re heavy doors so they don’t stay open unless you use a doorstopper 137. How tall are you?

5’0. I’m a shorty 138. Curly or Straight hair?

Um. Pixie cut? But it’s naturally straight 139. Brunette or Blonde?

blonde 140. Summer or Winter?

Summer. I hate the cold 141. Night or Day?

day 142. Favourite month?

I don’t know man 143. Are you a vegetarian?

HA. HAHA. As if. 144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

milk 145. Tea or Coffee?

Pop 146. Was today a good day?

So far, I guess 147. Mars or Snickers?

Snickers 148. What’s your favourite quote?

“Fake friends are no different than shadows. They stick around during your brightest moments, but disappear during your darkest hours.” 149. Do you believe in ghosts?

nope 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

Flexibility refers to the achievable range of motion at a joint or group of joints without causing injury.

#catherine answers #these are the answers absolutely no one asked for #but you're getting them anyways #because I'm bored

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imherebecausemymomdoesntloveme · 7 years ago

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HummingBird (part 2/?)

Peter Parker X Reader

Summary: readers first official day at school and first crime

word count: 2090

Part One

The first class of my day was pretty uneventful. I had precalculus with Mr. Evans which was fun. Who are you kidding dude you took calculus last summer. It’s not like I was gonna say that? I don’t wanna be that show off kid that knows all of the answers. Yeah well not participating makes you have conversations with yourself so sucks to be you nerd.

Jeez I really was having a conversation with myself. I was that bored with APUSH that I was arguing, with myself. Of course I loved US history, but the whole class made me miss Mr. Star Spangled Banner. Maybe I could just check my phone for any alerts of crime in the city.

“Ms. Carter,” Mr. Jameson said, catching my adrift attention, “Could you tell me about the Maryland Colony?”

I heard a few snickers come from behind me, clearly thinking I didn’t know a thing about history and unaware that Steve used to read history books to me at night instead of story books.

“The Maryland Colony was founded in 1634 by Lord Baltimore. It was to be a place for persecuted Catholics to find refuge, a safe haven. Made as an act of toleration.”

“Very nice Ms. Carter,” he continued. I turned back to find the boy who had laughed at me and gave him a real, genuine smile which really threw him off guard.

The rest of the class went well and before I knew it was lunch time. I was honestly surprised that for the first two classes, no one really thought to introduce me or guide me anywhere and as much as I didn’t need it, I did need to make friends. It was already lunch and I had nowhere to sit, or rather, no one to sit with. I scanned over the cafeteria, looking for a place to sit when I found a relatively empty table.

“Thats a lot of food you’ve got there,” the girl adjacent to me commented, “not like it’s a bad thing. You should be able to eat as much as you’d like.”

“Oh no it’s fine,” I laughed, “I just have a condition.”

“Diabetes?” She asked, probably feeling worse about her comment. She seemed like a nice girl.

“No-no, I just have like,” I paused, thinking about a lie, “A really abnormally high metabolism. If i burn more calories than I eat I pass out.” Well, I guess that was only half a lie. My powers entailed that I needed to consume more sugar than regular so I don’t black out. It wasn’t pretty. “Anyways, I’m Aurelie, but my friends call me Bird. What’s your name?”

“Michelle, and I don’t have any friends” She responded. I was going to say something back but by the time I figured out what to say enough time had passed that a response would just be awkward and sad. Lunch soon ended.

Physics was my next class, I sat next to this kid named Ned. He was pretty cool actually, we were lab partners and I helped him with the worksheets.

“So what school are you transferring from?” He asked, scribbling down some notes.

“Oh, I was homeschooled. Parents thought I ought to be socialized or something.” I responded with a chuckle.

“Like in meangirls?” He asked.

“What?-”

“Nothing.”

My last class of the day was P.E. with that same kid who had made fun of me in APUSH. Apparently his name was flash or something? LAmE. It appears that me totally owning him earlier on in the day wasn’t enough for him and so he decided to try and own me on a physical level as well.

“Twenty bucks that new kid drops out of the pacer before it hits twenty,” he announced, the teacher either not knowing or not caring.

“Four hundred bucks said that the new kid is gonna be the last person still going,” I childed, another genuine smile flashed at him. He and most others burst out in laughter.

“What are you doing?” Ned asked me (He was in this class too.), “this is a mixed class, seniors regularly score over the hundreds.”

“Oi Ned, chill dude. Trust me.” I put my hair up into a ponytail, the kids that had made it a point to beat me were showing real game by doing pushups and sit ups. Some of the girls had began to do stretches too to show off.

“Maybe you should.. Um.. show off too,” he suggested. I shot him a look. “I mean look at them! They’re practically asking for it!”

“And who am I to give those meanies what they want,” I chirped.

“Are you even sure you can do this? Four hundred dollars is a lot of money…” Ned gulped. I only gave him a knowing look.

“The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. [beep] A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. [ding] Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start.” I began to run to the beat of the weird elevator torture music and one by one people began to drop out. When Ned left (around 23) the group cheered and encouraged me to follow my friend. I gave him a look that said I will avenge you and I hope he got that message. By the time we hit one hundred and thirty two, the last of them had basically dragged themselves off the floor, giving me wicked glares as I lightly jogged across the way, a small smile on my face. Flash had dropped out around one hundred and twenty seven, and I was pretty sure that Ned was recording me. I was pretty sure the teacher was going to turn off the tape but he didn’t and I began to think that he had heard my little bet with Flash.

As the numbers increased the other students got angrier and angrier and eventually the tape stopped. I had ran all 21 levels, all 247 laps.

I walked off the court over to Flash, a cheerful grin on my face. I was sorta out of breath and definitely sweating more than I’d like but hey, it wasn’t that awful.

“Hey Flash” I greeted with a friendly smile. He handed me the four hundred.

“This isn’t over, Carter,” he spat, a grimace on his face as the teacher gave a blind eye to us.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I comforted in a sickly sweet voice, “What really counts, is that you tried! You did your best. Did you break your own record today?” he nodded, “See! There we go. With the right motivation you can do anything.” I booped his nose with the tip of my finger.

With that, I walked over to Ned, handing him the four hundred. “Here you go sir, four hundred dollars.”

“What? I can’t take it from you!” He exclaimed, clumsily trying to give it back.

“Dude, I have a lot of money, I don’t need it. Just use the money to make something cool and then show it to me.” I reassured him.

“A-are you sure?” He asked, still wary of accepting such a large quantity of money.

“Positive.”

After school I busted through the doors and down the street as quickly as possible, people looked at me weird because my hair was still wet from my post pacer shower but I didn’t care. I was ready to fite™ some crime. The only other person who was out of school by now was that kid that ned sat with at lunch.

I went into an allyway and began to strip, which was something that probably came out of a bad porno. I put pulled on my suit that Tony had made and hid my backpack in an empty garbage can. The suit matched my alter-ego The Hummingbird™ with its dark iridescent fabric. The fabric was also very lightweight and feather like in texture. I had my own AI built in that I named Orzo. I pushed off the floor and flew up into the sky at high speed, shaking my head like a dog to dry off my hair. Hopefully the local vigilante wouldn’t mind some company here on the streets.

I flew higher into the sky, hoping to get a good scope of whatever was going on. This was my first chance at action since, well, ever. Tony never let me help him whatsoever (though he knows I am fully capable.) He didn’t even let me help him in Germany! He let Spiderman, a vigilante he’d never even met join but not the girl that he practically raised! Not only that, but I didn’t even get to meet him. I’ve only ever heard about him through the news and other media. Anyways sorry I got a little bit heated.

Though I expected New York to be just busting with crime 24/7 it honestly was pretty calm. There wasn’t much to do for a while. Very minor things to do. A couple of people stealing purses, I helped a homeless person move to a different street?? Ralph now lived on 22 and third. By seven o’clock not only had I done nothing that day, but I also hadn’t even encountered the spiderkid! Then, almost like the world was answering my prayer (not saying that I wished for crime and anarchy but I was bored) I heard a crash come from not more than down the block. Fresh crime, crime so fresh that my police tracker app hadn’t even gone off yet. I took flight, zooming across the city, trying to stay out of sight. The, yet darkened, streets were filled with life and pedestrians, some checking to see what the commotion was and many fleeing in the other direction.

I entered the store that was currently being robbed. It looked to be some type of antique jewelry store raided by the average thieves.

“Pals, I don’t think they’re open. Maybe you should come back later,” I said to the men, making them aware of my presence. They were taken aback by my appearance and probably my voice as well. By vibration my vocal chords at a different frequency, I could modify my voice to sound louder and have a similar reverb to that of a hum (at normal human pitch).

“And who are you? Spiderkids protege?” One of them snickered.

“I’d hardly say that,” I seethed bumping my head on the ceiling. I silently cursed myself. When I get excited or really invested into something I begin to hover which isn’t that helpful.

Two of the three men charged at me while the other one tried to grab their belongings and leave. I used my speed to use their strength against them, quickly finishing the job and knocking them out. I grabbed onto one of the feather/scales of my suit and pulled it out which transformed it to a larger, sharp feather which I used to pin them both to the floor. I darted out of the store and into the alleyway that the third thief had escaped.

“You come any closer and I’ll have to stab you!” He bellowed, pointing his knife at me. Wow, dude didn’t even think to bring a gun. I put my hands in the air and began to sob.

“Oh my god, you found my one fear, small knives.” I hung my head claiming defeat.

“Wait really” He asked, a look of genuine surprise on his face. I pulled out another feather and threw it, pinning his sleeve to the wall.

“No,” I chuckled out in disbelief, “anyways, I’ms sure when the cops get here you’ll have had enough time to figure out a reason why you’re stuck in an alleyway with lots of fun jewels in your bag, good day sir.”

I flew back into the sky just to see the one and only spiderkid zooming towards the shop.

“Hey dude! I already got it, you’re good. See ya” I hollered, waving good bye and flying around a bit to ward off any arachnids if I needed to. Maybe I shoulda talked to him?

TAGS: @sushidoesntneedtoknow (comment if you wanna be tagged)

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ultradisplacement-blog · 6 years ago

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Failed Dates Plunge Me Deeper Into Limerence—A World of Perpetual Fantasy That May Just Border on Psychosis

I mean it. I really do. I’d rather spend a lifetime of limerence over someone so unattainable that barely knows I exist than go on another date with a blockhead who didn’t know that mayo is made of egg yolks, has never heard of Lykke Li (or any decent indie artist, at that), mistakes gender equality for feminism, and jumps back into my Taxify after he got off ‘cause he remembers he had some groceries to do—at 1 am, mind you. The Taxify that I had ordered and paid for, by the way, because he had no mobile data on his phone to order an Uber, nor could he connect to the Koton wifi (the McDonald’s one had for some reason vanished into thin air that night) or walk three fucking blocks back to his place.

He calls himself a world traveler but would’ve rather taken the subway to the old town instead of walking with me thirty minutes by the city lights, doused in the intertwining smells of shawarma, molten asphalt, and summer heat. Funny, because my definition of ‘world traveler’ is based on my friend George—who quit his office job in the name of freedom, motorbiked his way through (and came down with malaria in) Africa, had to apply for a new passport because the old one, though not expired yet, was full of stamps, and is currently driving a 1984 Skoda that crashed and burned a million times already somewhere in the heaths of Russia, bound for Mongolia—and this fellow couldn’t be further from that level of “world traveling.” He brags about doing the same thing every day— jumping on a subway train to bypass the unbridgeable half-mile walk between point x and point y. That was the very first red flag that came into view. ‘I’d rather spend those 30 minutes in the old town than... walk,’ he said. ‘Why? Do you have a curfew or something? It’s only 8:20 pm.’ ‘Nah, I just like luxury.’ Weird statement, coming from someone who backpacks through southeastern Europe and has no Internet on his phone. Means that actually, he’s probably cheaper than a dollar store. I used to be broke AF back when I first started traveling—which didn’t stop me from traveling anyway— but at least I was foresightful enough to download some offline maps so I wouldn’t end up sleeping in a bush in case I lost my way back to the hostel at night. There was also a hint of paranoia which I didn’t fail to take into account when he seemed leery of my Google maps directions and asked some passersby how to get to the old town instead. I was floored, and knew the date was meant to be a failure to remember, but I went for it anyway (if anything, perhaps so I could amass some writing inspiration).

He wouldn’t tell me much about himself except he spent the whole day at Mcdonald's, working his ass off. ‘Are you working at...McDonald’s?’, I managed to ask, trying to hold on to my wig for dear life. ‘Not that I find that a bad thing at all. I used to scrub toilets in a hotel—which is way worse than flipping burgers, some would argue. But it just struck me that you smell quite… fresh. Not like stir-fry oil, mayo, and pickles.’ ‘Nah, I just work from there,’ he retorted. ‘On my laptop, that is. I like to work from different places, like restaurants and cafés. I taught myself Russian and I move from one country to another, doing my thing; translating articles and stuff for some guys.’ To which I asked him whether he was one of those digital nomads or freelancers or whatever, but he didn’t seem acquainted with these terms.

We kept walking side by side, but with a considerable gap between us, I trying to avoid his hand to the utmost of my strength. He said he wants to go back to the States and enroll in Law school next year. ‘Why? Why would anyone wanna do any of that? You have all that we European millennials crave, pray for, and dream of at night—a job that allows you to work even from a McDonald’s lounge in a shithole in Eastern Europe and a passport that gives you the freedom to go wherever the hell your nomadic instinct dictates. Why would you loan your way into Law school and cram the whole constitution of the United States into your head when you could have… this, what you’re having right now?’

‘For the power,’ he answered simply. ‘And because I’m into politics. I don’t like to talk about it, but I am.’ (I failed to mention that when he first called me, he asked me how much money I’ll make as a doctor—a lot less than American doctors do, that’s for sure, but that was none of his business—huge red flag again. I told him, half-jokingly, half-seriously, ‘If you’re a gold-digger, I’m the last person you’d wanna hang out with.’ But he still did want to hang out with me, which I found nice at the time; now, I’m no longer sure.)

‘Well, if you wanna pave your way into the Oval Office and the ridiculous Twitter account with unnecessary capitalization that comes with it, why don’t you just buy a hotel and screw a porn star in one of its luxurious suites? I bet it must be easier and way more satisfying than Law school on the long run.’ Clutch your pearls, I may have just dated (and mocked) the next president of the United States; I sure as hell kick ass.

I hadn’t answered his calls and texts for almost a week. I was still grieving over my missed flight to Milan and the Nick Murphy show I had been looking forward to for so long as though it were my wedding day. I had been vivisected by the pain and the absurdity of the whole situation: a ramshackle, diminutive aircraft which triggered in my mind’s eye the depiction of my being sliced in a zillion pieces following its potential crash as soon as I set foot onto it; loss of cabin pressure twenty minutes after landing—which was real; and an emergency landing back to the airport we’d just departed from—realer than Kanye West’s tweets, too—only one hour before the connecting flight. It was lost, so irretrievably lost, and so was I—semi-catatonic in the departures terminal of the airport for the better part of the day, sleep-deprived for thirty hours, looking for solutions where there were none. My hair was blue, and so were my shoulders, the tip of my ears, the tears trickling down on my cheeks, and my whole doubtful state of rejected aliveness. So blue for nothing. Pathetic and outrageous. I went back home and ran myself a bath—the longest and the most revealing one as yet; it felt more like a rite of passage than a basic body hygiene ritual It took half a bottle of shampoo to take off all that dye, and my hair was so stiff that it looked more like a worn-out broom abandoned in a country backyard than a bundle of human keratin that was supposed to be somehow alive. It took half a bottle of shampoo, but in the end, the whole tubful of blue water went down the drain. As soon as there was no more blue left in me, I got out of the tub and crashed into the bed that I had left unmade, crying myself to sleep.

And for some reason, exactly a week later, I was rehashing my predicament in front of this not-too-tall, not-too-fit, average-looking-and-talking American, who didn’t seem to grasp that I was into writing and I had a special way with words, and took all of my Facebook and Medium posts for mere yacking. He didn’t even ask whose concert I was pining for so badly (not that the name Nick Murphy—or even Chet Faker, his former moniker—would’ve rung any bell; he hadn’t even heard of Lykke Li, for fuck’s sake, though he pretended he was somewhat familiar with Lana Del Rey; that’d better be true). He said that something like this had never happened to him, and he’d been on at least fifty-something flights (which is not a lot, by the way; I didn’t keep track of them, but I think I’ve been on fifty-something flights, too, and I’m not the one who calls herself a world traveler). ‘But I’m glad that at least you’re alive; God must have taught you this lesson so you could be more appreciative of life,’ he reckoned, after I explained to him that loss of cabin pressure basically meant a death sentence because of the hypoxia that ensued—lack of oxygen, in layman’s terms.

‘Oh, really? Exactly on that day, on that special occasion that was so important to me? Why then? Why not on any other fucking city break flight to Brussels or Berlin? Your God is a big-ass jerk sometimes, and his workings lack logic, reason, and mercy. I cannot decipher his hidden motivations, nor do I think that’s of any use to anyone,’ I blurted out without too much consideration or piosity, almost oblivious of the fact that I had spent most of my childhood’s Sunday mornings trying to find the most spine-friendly positions in the pews of my local church (which was quite a fool’s errand, to be honest, but perhaps that was exactly the point— to engage yourself in an act of self-flagellation at least once a week, for three hours, during the Mass). He seemed quite triggered, because he didn’t believe in what I believed—namely, an unfathomable higher power, a spiritual force that had taken the wheel of the universe before it had even been created, whose whims and fancies could at times torpedo all your plans, hopes, and dreams; he believed in a specific celestial entity, in a Christian god who was always righteous and whose decisions we weren’t entitled to question or frown upon. And there I was, an obnoxious little European brat calling his supreme lodestar—the one in whom each and every American dollar bill ever put into circulation expressed its unflinching belief—“a big-ass jerk.” Yet we somehow managed to dodge an endless religious argument—spoiler alert, for then—and kept walking towards the old town—or so I thought, for at some point, he took a sharp left turn, urging me to follow him: ‘I wanna show you a place.’

The street was impenetrably dark, and my mind should’ve probably started coming up with all sorts of scenarios involving rape, murder, and identity theft—but it didn’t; there was utterly nothing there, and you can’t be afraid of nothing — or can you? ‘What the hell do you wanna show me? There’s nothing here; not even rats or stray dogs.’ ‘Wait a little and you’ll see.’ Cool. This is how you roll in life, I told myself. You keep walking and you wait, although nothing might ever come your way. So we kept walking two or three more blocks and then, bam! there we were. Apparently. In front of an old building that reeked of fried fish and garlic sauce. ‘This is where I stayed for two weeks when I first arrived here,’ he enthused, big grin on his face—and due to the neon lights that had wondrously cropped up out of the blue, I was no longer in the dark, and could clearly make out that his dental arches were covered in a yellowish stratum of grim, indicating the fact that mouthwash was probably not at the top of his shopping list (or even at the bottom). That Christian god, or that unfathomable universal force making the world go round, or Satan’s offspring, or Ellen DeGeneres, or whoever rules this fucking world must be a great prankster, I thought to myself, while my musical memory was reproducing the first two lines of the sexiest song I’ve ever heard—Chet Faker’s Melt: ‘Help me breathe, you’re breaking up my speech/While you smile at me, you got the whitest teeth.’ That very same god could’ve been able to crash a plane and kill a hundred people in the process so I’d miss Nick’s concert; so I couldn’t bask in the endorphins milked from my brain by his balmy—yet rabid—voice and the dazzling white of his teeth that would light up the whole venue every time he opened his mouth to set free into the world the most otherworldly sounds I’ve ever got to hear; but he couldn’t, it seems, make me cross paths with a guy that gave a shit about his dental hygiene (and he didn’t even smoke, like Nick does). I had every reason to be pissed off with this god and his sick sense of humor, and I still am; I’ll probably be for a long, long time.

So he’d made such a tremendous (judging by his standards) detour only to show me the building where he’d been a roomer for a fortnight—a plain, old, decaying house reeking of fried fish and garlic sauce, which would, for reasons known only to him, put that indecorous smile on his filmy teeth. Truth be told, there’s a lot of emotional baggage attached to a rental apartment one uses as a storage room for two weeks until one figures out where to go next. ‘Let’s get the fuck outta here,’ I said, ‘until a hobo doesn’t jump from a bush and screws us in the ass or steals or wallets; or both.’ I may be wrong, but I had an intimation that he meant to show me something else, something he couldn’t find—since he was no longer in the comfy subway that told him precisely when to get off and which exit to take.

‘Are you into museums?’ he asked, as we were making our way out of an underground pass, finally approaching the old town that seemed to have replaced the Sydney Opera House on the world map that evening.

‘Wow. Could you ask me something any vaguer?’ I replied, without trying to conceal my irritation. ‘I mean, I had the time of my life at the Museum of Chocolate in Bayonne, but I think the Mercedes Benz Museum in Stuttgart would bore me to death. Seriously now; but if I had a broader choice, between a bar and a museum—whatever museum—I’d probably choose the former.’

‘Right, right,’ he approved. ‘You’re totally right. I, for one, don’t really like art museums; I prefer archeology.’ Hm. So very interesting. I don’t know why, but the fact that someone is into archeology doesn’t tell me anything about them except that… they’re into archeology. If he had told me that broccoli triggers flashbacks of his childhood trauma, I think I would’ve been more impressed—at least that would’ve given me on a platter some food for thought, be it—as most likely would’ve been the case—watered-down pabulum. Maybe if he had elaborated on that a little bit, if he had explained his drive for archeology, why it was so important to him to bring it up on a first date, I would’ve cut him some slack; but no, he just randomly dropped the word ‘archeology’ into the conversation, perhaps to appear more cultured than he really was. But wait—it can always get worse.

‘Oh, but what about music? What kind of music do you listen to?’

I wish I could’ve buried my face in my hands and cried a lifetime’s worth of frustration away.

‘That’s even vaguer than the museum thing, honestly. The music I listen to is genreless and so eclectic, and there are so many factors into play that prompt me to listen to a certain song at a specific moment in time. But if you want me to reel off a few descriptive words of my bar of choice, here’s my best shot: I listen to a lot of alternative, indie artists; I’m into electronica, downtempo, trip-hop, but also into soul, blues, and jazz; when I write, I’d rather listen to some ambient stuff, some lofi hip-hop, or even dream pop on rainy days. I’m into shoegaze and garage, swing and old R&B, grunge and funk. I like film scores and some Super Bowl halftime playlists. And I worship Lana Del Rey; have you heard of her?’

‘Yes, yes, I have,’ he rushed to reassure me.

‘Good. Or else I would’ve had to kill you.’

‘Why don’t you play me something on your phone? Like, the last song you listened to?’

‘What?! Do you want me to blast it right now, in the middle of the street, without headphones?!’

‘Yeah, why not? I wanna get to know you better.’

‘You must be off your rocker,’ I said, but I did open my Spotify app anyway and played the last song in my library, amid the clanks, whirrs, and honks of the hectic nightlife. What difference did it make? He had no more awareness of my music than I had of the intimate structure of that experimental particle collider at CERN in Switzerland. It was The Cactus Channel’s Wooden Boy, an admirable rendition of a neo-soul song by a much-underrated—yet hugely talented—group from Melbourne. He confesses he’s a metal fan—not a die-hard one, but still. I asked him what was the last live concert he attended and he couldn’t remember, though he said he wanted to go to a Korn show once, but it would’ve cost him about 400 bucks, which he couldn’t afford.

‘What the hell? Who asks that much for a C category ticket? Not even the VIP ones are that much! You must have been on some scalper’s website or something.’

‘No, it was a festival and you had to pay for the whole thing.’

‘You could’ve bought a day ticket, though. One hundred bucks or less. Or you could’ve gone to one of their headlining tours; you know, touring to promote an album all by yourself (plus maybe an opener) is one thing, whereas festivals are another. All you have to do is go to Facebook and type ‘korn’ in the search box, then you’re on their profile; once you’re there, check out the events and see when you can catch them in the closest town; easy as that.’

‘Yeah, you’re right; maybe next time.’

Right; I couldn’t say the same things about us, though. I knew for sure there wouldn’t be a next time.

I digress, but I have to say about this one thing about metalheads (though he obviously wasn’t one; he just feigned a mild interest in a metal band so he could have a musical conversation with me). In my scarce and sparse dating history, he’d be the third metal element, which is way over the top; it’s like thirty percent of all guys I’ve ever dated had something to do with metal one way or another. What is it about my hipsterish, indie, unpigeonholeable ways that seems to attract metalheads like bees to a honeypot? Why, for heaven’s sake; why? For all I know, I’m no more metal than Coldplay or helium; the only metal I transpire is the aluminum in my deodorant (and probably some iron, but I’m not sure; as far as I remember, most of it is eliminated through feces and urine). All three metalheads in my life were made from the same mold, one that I never had a particular affinity for: massive, but not exceedingly tall individuals, with puffy cheeks and some sort of ugly beard, a more or less overflowing beer belly, donned in capris and extra-large T-shirts, nice but insipid, with an average/average-to-high QI. He’d be, however, the first one to believe in a Christian god (the other two were, quite predictably, atheists; but then again, he wasn’t that much of a metalhead anyway). I’d like to believe that I look nothing like a metalhead, at least physically; I look more like a perpetual thirteen-year-old, searching frantically and fruitlessly for an extra-small size and ending up with some polka dot or floral pattern tank top from kid’s section instead, with thready arms, spidery fingers, and strikingly bulky calves. My face screams that one could beat the crap out of me, so probably that’s why the metalheads may be drawn to me—to fulfill their protective instincts and to keep me safe inside their towering, hairy, fatty, tattoo-adorned arms. Unfortunately, my helpless ass suffering from severe abandonment issues seeks protection in a different type of arms: more indie and rejective, less fatty and welcoming; I don’t mind the hair and the tattoos, though. What the metalheads and I had never resembled romance—or even dalliance—in a million years; whatever that thing was, it would smother by itself by the second or the third date (I let it go that far only once), and it was for the better. None of them had the guts or the occasion to kiss me, which means that I’d been spared a good deal of embarrassment and social awkwardness; I could only hope the history would repeat itself tonight as well.

He wanted us to go smoke some hookah, proposition which I kindly—but firmly—declined. I explained that I steer clear of any source of smoke whatsoever, because back when I was a three-year-old, my mother— a voracious chainsmoker—put a lighted cigarette in my mouth so I’d stop pestering her with my asking what it was like to smoke. ‘This is what it’s like to smoke!’ she said, transplanting the cigarette from her mouth to mine, and causing me to choke so badly that I swore never to touch such a damn thing again. And it worked, because my mother is the smartest person I know. She was all too aware that interdiction would’ve only whetted my curiosity, so she shot the vice into my lungs like a vaccine instead; as a result, I gained a—it would seem—lifelong immunity to the “disease.” My sharp refusal lowered his spirits instantly, so he took an intellectual approach in his attempt to talk me into it:

‘But do you at least know what it is?’

‘Of course I do; I’m not an idiot. I clearly specified—any source of smoke whatsoever is a no-go for me. ’

‘I didn’t say you were an idiot; I was just hoping I’d deprive you of your better judgment.’

‘You wouldn’t be the first one to try; or to fail, at that.’

‘Oh, man. Then maybe a beer or two will do the trick.’

‘Bad news—lately I’ve been drinking only Coke zero; and tonight will be no exception.’

‘There’s no way out with you,’ he conceded, before asking me one more time if I was totally sure I didn’t wanna try the hookah. I was.

I wish there had been a way out of that date, though. Particularly so when he felt that I wouldn’t mind him holding my hand on the street.

‘My hand is okay without being held,’ I said, ‘with all this heat and everything. My sweat glands have always been hyperactive and it’s a bit disgusting.’

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind holding it.’

I did, which is why I liberated myself from his grip as best I could; to which he responded by grabbing me by the shoulders. That is when I knew that I hands down loathed him, and that was the long and the short of it.

We stopped for a drink at a street bar. I was quite taken aback when I saw that he ordered the exact same thing as I had—a Coke zero, that is. I looked at him in sheer perplexity.

‘I guess you were saying something about some beers?!’

‘Yeah, but I’m not drinking on my own. Drinking is an experience that needs to be shared. If you’re not having alcohol, then I’m not having alcohol either.’

‘What the hell. If I feel like having a beer in my dorm room—alone, with Lana Del Rey singing in the background Pretty When You Cry—I’ll have a fucking beer, alone in my room; or with Lana Del Rey; or in a restaurant at a table for one (is that even a thing?), or with the devil himself, or under any given circumstances I feel like having a beer. I don’t need anyone to hold it for me.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t do that; besides, I drink a lot of Coke zero anyway, so that’s why I had a Coke zero tonight instead of a beer.’

‘Weird; you didn’t mention a word about your love for Coke zero ten minutes ago, when I told you this is the only beverage I’ve been binging on lately.’

‘Why do you think I should’ve?’

‘I don’t know; maybe because I would’ve?! Maybe because it makes sense?!’

‘It makes sense only because you want it to.’

‘Right. So very pseudo-philosophical and Coelho-lite. Or -like. Or whatever.’

‘How often do you actually drink?’

‘Wait, what? Are you trying to assess whether I might use a stint of drying up in a rehab? Because I’m having a Coke zero and not a beer? Do you think I’m trying to conceal my forbidden cravings or something?’

‘No, it was just an innocent question; I totally understand if you don’t feel comfortable answering it.’

‘There’s nothing uncomfortable about my relationship with booze, except I don’t have any estimates in terms of consumption. I drink whenever I feel like it. I don’t need an occasion or company. I don’t drink every day, but I don’t drink once a year either. I don’t fucking know how much I drink. I can do with one pint of Guinness and stay highly functional and mentally aware, but I can also binge-drink, blackout, and puke in a plastic bucket, if you want to know the minutiae behind how alcohol gets in and out of my system.’

‘Wow. Cool. Okay. And how often do you read?’

‘That’s easy. I have an answer, and that is every day. But what does reading have to do with getting liquored up? Am I missing something? Or are you particularly fond of numbers and statistics?’

‘No, but I just figured that the more you read, the less you drink, and the other way around. That’s the way I see it, at least.’

‘’the hell?! So you think my brain must be so tiny that it can’t imbibe both booze and knowledge at once, right? You sure as hell haven’t heard of Bukowski, my friend.’

We had our Cokes zero anyway and he pretended to be examining my rings in order to hold my hand again. And again he feigned interest, inquiring me about their signification.

‘Well, I wear them because of the sense of unity they provide; and because I believe everything comes full circle sooner or later. And also because I need to have something to do with my fingers when I can’t sit still; otherwise, I’d have to run my fingers through my hair or do other weird stuff that would come off as inappropriate in public.’

‘I see,’ he said. Truth is, you do look like that kind of person who’s into astrology, crystals, bio-energy, spirituality, and the like,’ he said, pouring his Coke zero in a glass (I hadn’t asked for one, so I just sipped it intermittently straight from the can, in my usual, not very ladylike manner).

I almost choked on my Coke. It’s true I check my horoscope on Elle.com for fun every now and then, but that’s quite a far cry from incarnating all that plethora of esotericism and bullshit he had so casually churned out at my face.

‘And truth is, you do look like that kind of person who likes to make all the wrong assumptions about people they’ve known for a minute. You see me wearing a shirt that reads ‘Gender Equality’ and you automatically assume that I’m a feminist, which fills you with dread and disgust; you leaf through my Facebook posts and automatically assume that I’m a yacker, though you have no idea that I’ve been writing longer than I’ve been menstruating, that writing is my whole life and the only thing that I feel I can actually do—little does it matter that it’s writing, not talking; you say that the average female uses 7k words a day, whereas I do 147k; you hear me dropping some indie artists’ names and you automatically assume that I must be into celebrities and Gossip Girls, though those people are so famous that you’ve never even heard of them; you notice a bunch of rings on my fingers and you automatically assume that I’m some sort of transcendental mystic, brewing tadpoles alive in a cauldron in her bathroom and hoarding crystals for the sake of her chakras’ balance. You’re so wrong you can’t even imagine. Shall I go on, shall we call it a night, or would you rather tell me something factual about yourself, like, I don’t know, how was your life back in America?’

Oh, my, that escalated quickly; so quickly that it caught him off-guard, which means things could get even worse from that point of no return. Nevertheless, I must admit that it surprised me to hear that his life in America is not something he likes to discuss on a date; he’d rather change the topic or start making some more wrong assumptions—that, at least, he didn’t seem to mind.

‘I don’t want you to be that girl I’m discussing my life in America with; it’s just something I don’t do. Not with girls, not on a date.’

I can’t tell for sure, but I must have choked on my Coke again. Why wouldn’t he want to talk about his life back in America “with girls, on a date?” Had I been a boy, would that have changed things in any way? What was there to hide? Was he smuggling keys on a schooner in the Caribbean or shoplifting from Walmart and TJ Max? Did he have a criminal record for driving without a license? Did he attempt to cut his wrists in a friend’s beach house in San Diego because he couldn’t stifle his pedophilic urges? Mind you, I can make a bumper crop of wrong assumptions, too; just try me.

‘Why is America a taboo subject? I thought we weren’t talking about your foot fetish or the fact that you love the smell of your navel lint. I’m a European girl, and you’re an American out on a date with me. Do you think I’m here in the hope that I might wanna wheedle a green card out of you someday?’

‘Nope, it’s not that. I mean, I could help you with the green card anyway when I become a lawyer.’

‘How considerate. Thanks, but I don’t think it will ever be the case. I mean, my needing your legal assistance, not your becoming a lawyer.’

Then he suggested we get going, even though we hadn’t finished our drinks. We can walk with them, he said, but before paying the bill, he chugged his down in a gulp. I looked at him, baffled and reduced to silence. I got mine and took a few more sips, and we resumed our walking, but then he insisted to hold the can for me, which made me realize that what he actually meant was that he wanted to drink the soda he had paid for, so I handed it straight away to its rightful owner. Quite predictably, he wasn’t late to do what I had anticipated he would, and then asked me whether I still wanted to drink that thing. Nosir, it’s all yours—do with it whatever the hell you want; I don’t want your saliva anywhere near my inexhaustible mouthpiece that spits out 147k words a day.

At some point, we found ourselves in front of a Christian-Orthodox church—a church that, goodness only knows why, was open at 10 or 11 pm, and a priest was firing off a raucous sermon on why adultery and greed will drag us to hell. The doors were wide open because it was sweltering hot, so we could see and hear the whole thing from outside. A handful of people were listening meekly to the sermon, eyelids heavy with sleep and boredom, while others were moving about to and fro, lighting candles for the living and for the dead or groping for the best angle that would do justice best to their Instastories. He wanted us to go in, which I found ridiculous.

‘An hour ago I called God a big-ass jerk, and now you want me to step inside his home as though nothing had happened?! Why would I do that? Why would I do that even if I hadn’t called God a big-ass jerk? I know by heart these chestnuts that are supposed to scare the shit out of our straying souls and guide us to the right path. I’ve made it through six years of med school; hell is the last thing that can frighten me. Besides, it’s ridiculous; I never imagined that I’d be taken to church on a first date. You must have taken Hozier literally, but that song is so 2013, though; it’s 2018 now.’

‘Why? We’ll just go in a couple minutes, take a peek, do that sign, and that’s it. The architecture is beautiful.’

‘Do that sign? You mean, the cross? You’re not even an Orthodox; that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. There are people out there, something is happening—something that is none of our business; this isn’t the right time to play tourist.’

‘Oh, come on, it’ll only take a minute!’

And, believe it or not, I consented. ‘At least I can write about it,’ I told myself after the smell of incense, burned wax, and human sweat kicked us out of God’s Home in thirty seconds, just like Adam and Eve had been banished from the Garden of Eden at the dawn of time (except we hadn’t thankfully spawned the whole of mankind in the process). Deep down into the bottomless pit of the old town nightlife, though, his appetite for hookah was suddenly revived, and he asked me once again whether I was sure I didn’t wanna sample a puff with him. For the third and last time, I was; I didn’t want to. If there’s one thing that I deserve credit for, it’s that I have a knack for holding my ground under the direst and the most overpowering of circumstances. Back in LA, perhaps the most handsome guy I’ve ever made out with poured gallons of Bourbon down my throat—and even though I was dead-drunk, I could still say no when he undid my bra and unzipped his fly. It was hard (the situation, that is), but I had to; I didn’t wanna sleep with him because I didn’t wanna sleep with him; I didn’t wanna sleep with him because I was drunk. I’d had some minor blackouts, and I wanted to avoid a huge one that could explain a potential HIV contraction or a cocaine overdose (I was also on my period, but that’s just a piddling detail; or is it?). So, yeah; I’d rather sleep with someone when I’m 100% aware that this is what is about to happen—so I can blame it solely on temptation and my poor decision-making skills when I end up emotionally attached and they sleep around like normal people do, without giving a fuck about me and my attachment issues.

He wanted us to sit on a bench in front of the church—one that was circled by bums resting their bodies on newspapers and asking for alms—which I found a rather uninspired idea, so we just kept walking until we found a bench that was slightly less parasitized by unwelcome human presence and the odors thereof—which the crisp night air would only enhance. Out of the blue, he started talking about evolution; he told me that some scientists keep some secret genes in the lab, and that someday, maybe in thirty years from now, dinosaurs may be brought back to life. Birds are the closest thing there is to them, he said scholastically, and they might find a way to suppress some of their genes so that their eggs would hatch baby dinosaurs instead of chickens. Right, I said. And that wasn’t all: some people are born with tails (which some of them can move) due to pretty much the same reason—those atavistic genes undergo some mutations and aren’t silenced properly. I’d never heard of people being born with tails, but that sounded more like spina bifida to me; but from that to being born as a dinosaur instead of a chicken (or a human?), there’s a long way to go. That was nothing new under the sun to me; ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny, that’s one of the few things I remember from my embryology lectures. In utero, at the outset, the embryo looks more like a worm or a reptile before gaining human features. It takes time for that amorphous cellular slime to morph into a functional human body. Anyway, why the fuck was I having a conversation about evolution close to midnight, in front of a church, with an American guy that believed in a Christian god? What was he trying to prove to me? That deep down, he knew there was more to it than what the Genesis pretends there is? The Bible is a metaphor anyway, but I should’ve expected him to take it literally, as he did Hozier’s song.

‘I can see that you’re a skeptic, but you have to admit that believing in a Christian god helps you be of better use to your fellow human beings. That priest in the church in front of us didn’t preach theft or murder; he preached kindness and decency instead.’

‘Why would I need a priest to teach me kindness and decency? Why can’t I be kind and decent on my own? Look, for example, a lot of people I look up to, who’ve made tremendous contributions to the world—they’re doctors, writers, psychologists, musicians— don’t buy into that shit. They’re atheists or Jews. They didn’t need a Christian god or a Christian priest to be of use to their fellow humans in need.’

At that point, though the lights were dim, I could see him turn green in the face.

‘Are YOU a Jew?’ he asked, with panic in his voice.

‘There we go again, Mr. I-can-make-a-wrong-assumption-about-you-in-the-wink-of-an-eye. I am not a Jew; and even if I were, that was not the point. Do you want me to remind you what’s going on right now in the Catholic church in terms of pedophilia and sex abuse? You must be familiar with Pennsylvania. Do you want me to remind you that the Pope recommends psychiatric intervention for children with homosexual tendencies instead of love and acceptance? What’s next on their to-do list for the sinful, a lobotomy? Would you want to have your appendix removed by a surgeon who has homicidal propensities? I bet not, so let’s change the subject or get the hell out of here.’

‘Yeah, sure; getting jammed in a religious argument is not how I wanna spend my time with you,’ he agreed complacently. ‘Why don’t we go play some arcade games instead? Oh, man, I love arcade so much!’

‘I don’t. And it’s almost midnight. Where do you think we could play arcade games right now?’

‘Oh, come on, let’s look it up on Google maps. On your phone, I mean, ‘cuz mine, you know.’

Yeah. I knew. I also knew I’d be mad as a hatter if I played arcade games with him when all I wanted was a reason to put an end to that stupid date as soon as possible. But I was so sure that I’d come away empty-handed that I agreed to look up “arcade” on Google maps, only to find this place called Arcade Café, 1.6 miles away—which turned out to be just a regular café with a misleading name; no arcade or any other type of video games whatsoever. I shoved the phone in his face triumphantly, and then we got going—again.

‘Would you like us to go someplace else?’ he asked.

Yeah, at our place, I thought. I mean, me—at mine, you—at yours. I regret I didn’t verbalize that thought, and instead I heard myself saying, ‘No. I don’t care where we’re going. This is also how I roll in life by and large.’ (The second part of that statement is, however, true.)

When we were in front of an ancient building (it was the old town, so we basically were in front of an ancient building at all times), he asked me whether I’m interested in history. ‘I used to be,’ I replied, ‘back when I was in secondary school, because I had this huge crush on my history teacher. I’ve had it for years,’ to which he interrupted me, grabbing himself by the ears jestingly, bringing to my attention that I had pronounced the word “years” as if I’d failed to notice that it started with a “y.”

‘Great. Thanks for the correction. This is my flawed Eastern-European pronunciation. You see, when I was born, I wasn’t swaddled in an American flag. Also, I read and write more than I listen and speak, which is detrimental to face-to-face dates with native English speakers. We should’ve done this whole thing on Facebook instead.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, it was just a gentle correction. But carry on with your story, I wanna hear it.’

‘Yeah. A gentle correction and a huge turn-off. You know, like farting during sex. You can keep going, but it’s not gonna be the same.’

So we walked some more; until he said he needed to pee and wanted to go to McDonald’s to use the restroom. Must be a special bond between McDonald’s and him, I thought. Maybe he’s actually living in a McDonald’s, after all; maybe he doesn’t live in a rental apartment in the old town, as he had claimed. But now it was way past midnight—was it still open? Of course, only Google Maps and my phone had the answer, and like most answers that night, this one was negative, too. There was a park on our way to McDonald’s, so I just suggested he relieve himself behind a bush. ‘Not too classy,’ he said, ‘but if you have nothing against it...fine.’

‘Why would I have anything against it?! I’m not the one with a full bladder. Just go for it, release your problems, and be a happy man again.’ (And don’t dare touch me, my real self whispered in my mind’s ear; without a “y” this time around.)

‘Oh, look, problem solved!’ he jubilated, pointing towards a row of composting toilets—probably the most disgusting thing ever created by man, which filled the nightly atmosphere with their unmistakable whiff of ammonia and vagrancy until the memory of what must have been the scent of last morning’s freshly-cut grass was completely annihilated.

I sat down on a bench and waited for him to get out of that temple of piss and loafing, although deep down I wished a supermassive black hole would yawn out of that toilet bowl and swallow him out of my life. I could’ve walked out on him, but I knew he wouldn’t find his way back home if I did that. He depended on my phone to order an Uber and make it back to his place safe and sound. I was the man in this, not him; gender equality my ass. Or maybe that’s exactly what gender equality is about—a girl may just as well order a taxi for the guy who asked her out on a date and see to it that no one rapes him on his way home. Or not? He said he had a problem with feminists and was glad that I wasn’t one, but what I did for him that night was the epitome of feminism—but more on that, later.

At long last, there he was again, in front of me, with an empty bladder and a right—or left?—hand brimming with bacteria from his groin, and probably from the groins of all the wastrels that had ever taken a whizz in that composting toilet. ‘What if we go to this other park,’ he suggested, and indicated the name of a park that was like a million miles away. We sure as hell couldn’t walk there, and I’d had enough of parks—at least when it comes to dating. I don’t wanna date in parks ever again. All the guys I’ve ever dated were so cheap that would rather take me to a park than a café or a restaurant, because it was open to the public for free; they didn’t risk having to pay a bill that would’ve probably caused an aneurysm to burst in their brains. I’d always offer to go Dutch, but better safe than sorry—in parks, you don’t have to go Dutch at all. In parks, you don’t risk spending your entire weekly allowance that mom and pop slipped into your pocket because you were a good boy who did well in school and didn’t come home with the clap. So we went to parks; a lot of ‘em, goddamit. Ugh! Those memories of making out on the benches and being made fun of by kids playing badminton or riding their bikes make me sick to my stomach. I had my first date ever in a park in my hometown, in late November. It was freezing cold and my poor, sickly beau subsequently came down with a cold that took weeks to heal. Nothing of the sort befell me, like, ever. I also had my first kiss ever on a bench, in the same park, though with a different date. We broke up two months later because I loved dogs more than human beings, and he got married to the next girl he started dating after me, on the same day that the high tide wiped the hiking trail that would take me to the shore on an Irish island in the middle of the Atlantic. And once, I went to a park, determined to break up with this guy, but I ended up staying in that toxic relationship almost another year because of his cajoling and other dirty schemes. In a nutshell, I have no fond memories of parks; and the fact that someone takes me there in the middle of the night to pee (hoping to take a shot at romance after that) is not gonna make me change my mind; if anything, it’s only gonna make my nausea more difficult to internalize—which is a bad thing in itself, to begin with.

‘Do you like long walks?’ he asked me, when we were doing the exact same thing—walking for hours on end, heading to the middle of nowhere, because I didn’t care where I was going as long as it wasn’t home, and he was still hoping to get laid that night to let me slip through his fingers so easily.

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to thwart again your attempt to pigeonhole me in any possible way. What are you gonna ask me next, if I like my fries with ketchup or mayo, what’s my favorite color, the subject I struggled the most with in school, or the name of my first pet? You sound like Gmail asking security questions when you forget your password.’

‘Yeah, I know it sounds stupid sometimes, but… I’m just trying to get to know you. I know people who’d easily do that—the long walks, that is—whereas others are simply couch potatoes. Only Netflix and chill for them. I was just wondering where you belong.’

‘Nowhere. I belong nowhere. I walked thirty kilometers in two days in Nice and Monaco, plunged sixteen kilometers into the depths of a forest in the French countryside in full hunting season, but I also had a two-month spell when I didn’t get up from bed, lying there all day long, writing my book (he totally ignored the fact that I had brought up the words “my book” into the conversation; must have misheard it or blamed it on my Balkan pronunciation). Nothing I do makes sense or is interconnected with another thing I do; it doesn’t even have to. It’s just who I am.’

‘I see. That’s why I wanna spend time with you. Given that there’s nothing much to do in town, I’d normally say we go to my place and watch a TV show or something, but…’

‘But you know that “at my place” are not the three words you wanna say on a first date; not with me, at least.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know; I didn’t suggest anything, I just thought it’d be nice.’

‘I didn’t say you suggested anything; it’s just something I don’t do on a first date. You have a self-imposed America-related omerta; I don’t drink alcohol and sleep around.’

‘Fair enough. Well, then, I’d like to hang around some more, but I have stuff to do, so maybe we should order a taxi and go back to our places.’

How very odd. A minute ago, he was inviting me at his place because he wanted to “spend time” with me, and now, after he realized he’s not gonna get what he wants, he says he’s gotta go back home because he has stuff to do. How the hell did that stuff materialize into his living room in his absence, in the span of one or two minutes? Hm. Maybe he’s the mystic in this story, not I. If anything, I am the man. The man who orders a taxi, drops him at his place, at which point he gets back into the car, claiming he had forgotten he had to go buy something from a convenience store on the main avenue. His paranoia kicked in again when he wasn’t sure that the driver had started the GPS—does this guy even know where we’re going? And do I have to pay him or you? It’s a Taxify, you idiot; all the fares are deducted from my bank account. He handed me a bill, which I obviously turned down, hugged me twice (because he didn’t like the pat on the back—I patted him anyway the second time, too), and off he went. Finally. Thank God. The Christian god, the Jewish, the Muslim, or the Buddhist one, or whatever god had effected the long-awaited demise of my worst date ever.

Two days later, he texted me, saying that he wants to hang out again soon, but unfortunately, he still has a lot of work to do. Nevermind, darling! I’m far from being a time-sucking vampire. I like garlic and solitude too much, that’s why. ‘Sorry, but I’m not exactly vibing it, and I don’t wanna waste your time (or mine). We belong in different worlds (literally and non-literally), so we’d better leave it at that. Best of luck.’ And I pressed “send.” The reply came back instantly, and it was monosyllabic—‘Weird.’ And I’ve never heard from him again.

Man. That text felt so liberating I could almost cry for joy. It felt ecstatic to be able to fantasize again with Nick Murphy, to plunge into the same old endless spiral of limerence in the peace and quiet of my room, smelling of coffee, dark chocolate, old books, and isolation. No more piss in the park and platitudes on Christianity and evolution; no more answering security questions and avoiding hands caked in groin bacteria and molecules of urine; no more getting back home late enough to shower with cold water and watch the cockroaches crawl all over the dishes in my kitchen. Dating is a pain in the ass unless you do it with someone you’re smitten with—and the modern society doesn’t quite give you permission to be smitten with someone you could actually date. Here’s the thing—I’d been late twenty minutes that evening because I’d gotten lost in a Youtube loop, crying and grieving over my missed flight and Nick’s show in Milan, and telling myself that I can’t do this. I don’t wanna do this. I can’t do this. I won’t do this. I’ll cancel last minute, although I’ll come across as a bitch. I don’t want the universe’s leftovers on my table; I’d rather starve myself to death. I know that never in a million years could I have my limerent object, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be happy with the dollar store version of it. Matter of fact, I won’t. I may be trying to punch above my weight, but then again—who isn’t? I don’t have perfect teeth; I’m far from having a Baywatch body; hell, my jokes aren’t even that good sometimes, and I can’t even pronounce “years” correctly in English—why wasn’t this guy good enough for me then? Because nothing and no one ever is; because we only want what we can’t have. Because that evening, I was hoping for a refreshing conversation on the duality of the self, on the body-mind conflict, on how art in general (and music in particular) is a lifeline for lost souls like me; but instead I got caught in the trammel of a religious argument, with baby dinosaurs lurking around the corner, threatening to hatch from the potentially fertilizable eggs in my pelvis under the auspices of the right genetic mutation. Because only average guys can be stubbornly interested in me, so much so that they keep texting me although I hadn’t answered their calls or their texts for a week; average guys who probably hadn’t gotten laid in a while; average guys to whom I seemed reachable, who didn’t have to punch above their weight to go on a date with me. I’ll never be interesting, multihyphenate, mysterious, or good enough for the likes of Nick Murphy or any other unattainable person that could be limerence material for me, no matter how hard I try; I’d probably have a shot if I stopped trying altogether (but I can’t, because I’m me).

And it’s sad, but I know the drill all too well, ‘cause I’ve been there so many times—basically my whole life: “Limerence is a state of mind which results from a romantic attraction to another person and typically includes obsessive thoughts and fantasies and a desire to form or maintain a relationship with the object of love and have one's feelings reciprocated, ” says the Holy Wikipedia. We owe this concept to psychologist Dorothy Tennov, who coined it in her 1979 book, Love and Limerence: The Experience of Being in Love. Look it up on Wikipedia; it expatiates on all its aspects amazingly well, and it might just let you know that you have a new disease. In my case, reciprocity never came into question, and in spite of starvation and adversity, I’ve always managed to stay limerent until I found another person to transfer my limerence to. The more impossible it is, the more drugged up it makes me feel; the more rejected I am, the needier I get. And I believe it’s essential that it stay that way; a healthy relationship pattern just wouldn’t do for me. I have yet to discover whether therapy would be of any help, though, but I’m not that willing to try, to be honest. I feed on my limerence, and my limerence feeds on me. We need limerence, at least in art; studies say that limerence is experienced by about 5% of the population; I bet that the bulk of it are artists (or at least artists at heart). I wonder how many of the great songs put out into the world would have been written had it not been for limerence; same goes for books, paintings, sculptures, and whatever involves a muse. Not all limerent objects are muses, but all muses are limerent objects, in a way or another. I know it, and you know it; everybody knows it, and in case you didn’t, now you do. While therapy —or even medication— may help limerence to some extent, the one thing that does not help are failed dates, with people you’re just not vibing that much (if at all). And of course, you can’t vibe somebody else when your whole being vibes that unattainable, volatile, celestial presence that will never be within reach like Tash Sultana’s mad guitar riffs.

And it’s okay; just don’t rush it. Don’t go for the leftovers. Don’t go for the dollar store hoops when you’ve been coveting the Gucci ones forever; otherwise, you’ll end up with a fallacy and a lifetime of bitterness and second-guessing your own worth. Are you truly dollar store material, too? Are you willing to work till you’re dog-tired, day in and day out, to afford something that might be stolen from your purse on your bus ride back home? But what if it’s something money can’t buy? What if it’s something not even wits or looks can buy, because it’s not yours to keep in the first place?

Well, that sucks; but I won’t go for the dollar store version ever again. I wanna bathe in the glory of a life with no one else, as the song goes. I’d rather die surrounded by dogs and books without having procreated, have no one come to my funeral, and give away my whole fortune—whatever’s left of it after decades of concerts, festivals and trips to Melbourne, New York, and LA—to charity. But until I die, I’ll keep on falling back upon the same pattern of limerence, hoping for the best; after all, hope is an important part of the definition of this whole concept. And I’ll make art out of it to stay alive—and because it’s fun, even when it makes me weep. If I were to believe Lana, at least I’m pretty when I cry.

#dating #love #relationships #limerence #feminism #religion #music #literature #art #crushes #nick murphy #chet faker #lykke li #lana del rey #tash sultana #monotony

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quonit-aceattorney · 7 years ago

Text

2-2 Reaction

Rules:

Q = Me, Quonit.

BF = Bardic Feline, the friend that made me spend 30 dollars on the game and whom I am messaging

I don’t use those when I send the messages close enough my username doesn’t appear.

Any typos (unless they are funny and part of the conversation) will be fixed.

Index

—

Q: also I can't play more ace attorney because when I finished game 1 my brother wanted to play it so now I can't play more until he realizes in order to play through game two he'll have to delete my progress so he has to wait till im done with that

BF: Whaaat

There should be more than one save slot!

Q :We thought that too! That ended up with Alex thinking the second game thing was another save file for the first game

BF: Huh

Q: he brought me back DS I can play as work yaaaay

BF: Wooo!

Q: back to phoenix wright

Q: car ooo

who was drugged with sleeping pills

oh hello ghost dude

murdurer who's that black haired girl outside of the flaming car

ini?

i liked these new opening scenes they have a lot more art

oh no D: not Maya!

they don't even avoid the "it was a rainy day" cliche like

who this guy

Q: uhhh turner that wasn't very friendly

Q: "I AM UPSET"

this was a year ago??? what???

Q: I was working under Mia not Maya

Q: the timeline makes no sense

June??? June what year??? Is this set before the chapter I just played???

oh my god that kid doesn't look right what

(^and that was my first ever reaction to Pearl. I thought she looked like a long 3-year-old. a glimpse. Ridicule me.)

Q: In happy Maya is here at least

Q: “I wouldn't take a crazed killer as my client" Maya you just have to BELIEVE they're not a crazed killer

Q: I wanna get to the case with Juan i n it but for now I'll be happy that at the moment he is living

Q: May 2nd is my bros birthday

Q: This guy needs better glasses that won't fall down

Q: Anyone can be a saint when compared to lawyers

Q: Wonder if anyone is in the direction

SIDE ROOM

Q: OH MY GOD THAT IS A LOT OF CANDLES

Is that a mushroom afro or hat

Q: I work hard at blaming it on Maya she gave me hints on what to do next and stopped the verdict from being assigned/mean any thing

Q: I wonder why we can't tell anyone about Mia

Q: Who is calling me!!!

HI I REMEMBER YOU

How are you lotta!

Q :How would Lotta plan to take pictures

Q: DID SOMEBODY DIE IN THERE

Oh now the citizens !Alex sense

CUT-SCENE

I think we should break in but Morgan won't approve

Q: Why will anybody who possesses Maya not stop showing off their books

Q: Boobs

Q: Hi gumshoe

Q: Who are you you don't look like you're in the Fea family

Q: Hey look it's the kid again

I got the key!! Thanks Pearl!

Q: Hey I don't have the key

Q: Ugh I'm stuck

BF: hahahah always that point where you end up trying to figure out what to do next

Oh, apropos of nothing, but Ini's name is pronounced "Eenie"

and she had a sister (who you will find out about) named Mimi

BF: and their last name is pronounced Mine-ee

Therefore, they are Ini (Eenie) Mimi (Meenie) Miney!

and the next case features a guy named MOE

Q: alright!

Q: Talking with the kid YAY

Reasons why I dislike the kindle

If shipping me and Maya gets me that key then please continue

Ya I wanna help in Maya

Q :This because brings up the question of if Maya likes me because everyone in the village listens to get and seems to ship us... Though I bet it's just a misinterpretation on their end

BF: Only on Pearl’s end, really

Q: As suspected

She's cute though! I like Pearl :D

Hopefully the aunt won't come and get mad at me

Q: Sorry to disappoint you pearl but I went to lawyer school not channeling school

BF: Pearl is such a cutie

Q: She is! I feel bad about the first thing I said about her is that she looks weird

Yesss finally I have the key

BF: Oh there’s going to be multiple things about Pearl’s reading skills, and before you judge her as a total idiot, remember that in the original Japanese, it’s Kanji she’s struggling with haha

Q: Alright!

Pearl what if I phrase it like this: MYSTIC MAYA told me to give this to you

Q: Okay pearl you can follow me as long as you know your mom won't put my head on a pike soon after

Q: How would gumshoe NOT like kids

Q: How about we explain to Gummy about how she was possessed

I do indeed have a copy

Gumshoe: The prosecutor is going to be Von Karma

WAIT WASN'T VAMPIRE ARRESTED

I SWEAR IF I ACTUALLY HAVE TO FIGHT THAT ASS AGAIN

Q: Oh thank God he didn't actually get out prison or something

Q: First time we see edgy in the game I wonder how he is doing

Q: PHOENIX somebody is actually interested in your badge and you don't show it to them???

How could you!!!

Q: IT'S NOT A HOUSE KEY, IT'S A BICYCLE KEY!

Q: It's that weird redheaded girl I don't like again

Q: The frick am I hallucinating?

Q: Oh hey she's lying!!! Thank you pearl

Q: Uh I don't know if I should try or not

Oh ya still stuck with this girl

Wait what

I looked at the second newspaper clipping and it says she died what

Q: Sharing a last name okay

Yay I win

Q: Ini if that is what happened why do you still look so happy

Q: :goes to court: I KNOW YOU ARE LYING BECAUSE OF THIS MAGIC ROCK AN 8 YEAR OLD HAVE ME

Q: Pearl let me take you away from your home without a parents consent I have some candy with me

Hi mia!!!

Q: So I know she can't tell me much because the game wouldn't be fun but what is the in universe explanation

Mia how dare you lie to me I thought we were friends

Save point

Q: Pearly hi how did you leave without your mom noticing

strong pearly

Edgy is my objection buddy

Wait he actually quit D:

I am ready to hate this person just as much as I did the first vampire

Q: No I am not shocked you are a woman now I'm just wondering why we have not met up with another female prosecutor

Q: HEY DON'T HIT THE JUDGE

Q: I don't think she should be allowed to bring that anymore

Then how did manfred fail if you are all so perfect

Fool

Q :HEY SHE HIT GUMMY D:

Q: Ya but we heard two gunshots and you say there was just one

Q: Hey there is a bullet hole in it

Q: I can figure it out I know I can

Q: I would use the gun on the last statement because it was fired twice and has the victims fingerprints on it but that didn't work

Q: Why can't I find anything

Q: I am stuck :(

BF: Aaaah I'd help but I don't know which part of the cross exam your at so I don't know what you're trying to prove right now

Q: I'll type the thing why not

Q: "Sorry pal there is more evidence", "this is the costume masthead wearing", "it's covered is blood," " defendant killed the person who did not right back ".

BF: ....I'm not sure, but I THINK you can find some evidence to disprove the 'didn't fight back' thing by gesturing to the sleeve of her costume somehow

If I'm remembering that segment correctly.

Q: Back

Hey the costume did work thank you

Q: Somebody please take that whip away from her

BF: hhaha no problem

the whip is Franzy's signature item, though. lD

BF: Also, she's not the last prosecutor who will physically assault you during a trial and get away with it hahah

Q: How dare this game

But there is a bullet hole in the outfit he didn't miss

Q: Finally that other bullet hole contradicts something

Q: I'm not getting something it's why I keep saving

I should know at this point where Maya was

BF: If you are still on the first day of the trial, you actually don’t have enough info yet to know where in the room she was!

Q: Dangit

Q: Oh hey I do know what I am doing

Q: I'm sorry what kinda swear is that Phoenix

Q: Lotta please don't be annoying like last time you were here

Oooo save point

Hi pearl I forgot about you

Q: See I'm not the only one annoyed by the whip!!!

How am I supposed to be happy when a Von Karma is around

How am I supposed to pretend we are all family

Q: Lotta there were two gunshots

Q: For now I don't think I can present any evidence

Q: Which is sad

Q: WHY DID YOU POSSES PEARL

at least your not showing off Boobs

Nevermind

Q: Von Karma I hate you

Q: FINALLY I can prove it wasn't Maya

Q: No morons that is Mia

Q: You know if was ready to hate this second vampire but she isn't nearly as bad as the first one so far

Q: I'm not a fool I'm just annoying

BF: Franziska really isn’t the straight up villain her dad was; she’s more like a more prickly Edgeworth

Q: Alright well that is better

I really wanna see pearl tell at her haha

Q: Ya edgy was fine after a while but being nice forced him to leave him job so

Q: Who is misty who are you trying to kill

Q: Not a movie but it is a game and anime so

Q: How did steel samurai merch get in here

Q: Aww a cute theme for pearl

Q: Don't worry pearl I won't tell your mom

Q: Hey Lotta if you don't want me to be chasing you then maybe you should stop being in the rooms I need to go to

Q: and that is why Phoenix doesn't date women Lotta.

Q: Lotta you're fine you're one of the more likable people in this game

Q: I dislike that girl so I'd be fine to say she's the killerI mean it'd make sense

She is the sister of girl who was killed by the man who just died

BF: Indeed, she does have a motive!

Q :back to thing

Comic is going it is fun to draw

Q: yes please give me info

new place to go. Also why does Lotta not like giving me info

what is this place

Q: you don't look like a doctor

Q: well of course you aren't

BF: Hahaha oh man I forgot you hadn’t encountered that creep yet

back to ace attourny but this is a great AU

Q: phoenix started talking like the guy hahaha

oh no did Pearl's mom call the cops on me

crap

Q: Ya well I suspected she was as evil

Q :need to go again dangit

Q: I think it's funny how I'm the scary one in this game

Q: I think right now I don't know if like the redhead girl or Morgan more

Q: the more I find out i guess i like the redhead more

Q: I win >:D

if we were both asleep then maybe you were both drugged like how the opening said

what is she talking about

im scared

Q: how about you show her your damn police badge that'd be interesting to her

pearl come with meeee

Q: mia don't lie to me i have a magic rock

Q: one more lock.

I feel smart :D

oh so morgan and ini were the killers great

Q: well if she made it look like Maya killed him she could become the next master

Q :Pearl did you run here AGAIN???

oh god please don't bring morgan

pfft Maya she does this to you too?

Ohhh well I guess that makes sense... I mean, she would be really mad at me for saying her mom killed the guy

Q: I like Mia and (whats her name the second vampire) arguing it's funny

Q: morgan you are lying

Q: ya no you hated me there is no way you thought "good sir"

BF: haha Franziska!

Q: I'll call her Franz for short

I mean this testimony was in the opening so maybe it isn't entirely a lie

Q: what do you mean it wasn't strange???

Q: but there was blood on her outfit how did you not think it was strange!!!

Q: mini stop eating your hat

that personality change reminds me of the worst person ever ... April May

Q: no but really it isn't more subjective

Q: Pearl is being used as evidence why not

Q: Franz stop it let me question her

i wanna present the urn but morgan is watching

but you know what there is nothing else here so

Franz: Why do I feel like you’re going to ruin my beautiful day? Me: CUZ I AAAAAMMMM

also why is Ini's hat so stretchy

BUT IT WAS A LIE

JUST BECAUSE SHE TESTIFIED ABOUT IT DOESN'T MEAN SHE CAN'T AGAIN

LIES AND SLANDER

Q :IT'S NOT BASELESS ALSO YOUR DAD IS A PIECE OF SHIT

Q: CRIME SCENE

SCENE OF THE CRIME HMMMM

Q: I am angry i will use caps

Q :YOU WERE HIDING THE PLACE PHOENIX ALWAYS THINKS SOMEBODY IS HIDING BUT WILL NEVER CHECK NO MATTER WHAT I DO

wow there are a lot of holes in your hat when you strech it out

spinny hat

then how did lotta earlier isn't she bigger than you

when i first went into the room the box wasn't there and then later it was

BUG ON MY DESK KILL IT

KILL IT NOW

i think it's dead

i hope so

Q :the folding screen >:3

SHUT UP FRANZ

ugh that bug is making me left arm flinch a lot

revenge after your death how dare you

Q :im not foolish im just better than you

BETTER THAN YOUR ASSHOLE OF A FATHER

I COULD RAISE YOU

wait what did i just say wtf hahaha

Q: and that is why i think that MORGAN HELPED

Q: WAIT I WANNA LOOK AT THAT FRAME BY FRAME

Q: yesss good case

well I mean your dad did

also fuck your dad I hate him that is all

BF: hahahaha

Q: actually no im not done

but finishing it would include a lot of swear words

BF: This case is totally setting up for some things in Game 3, btw

Q: dammit

Well I have motives for both of them Franz I just need to know that Phoenix knows.

BF: what you are ultimately trying to prove is Ini's motive, then that she did it and how she did it with Morgan's help

Q: okay!

Q: I am much more confidence than phoenix but that may just be anger

and a save point

OH GREAT NOW WE HAVE TO TALK TO FRANZ OUT OF THE COURT GREEAAAT

Actually Maya I had everything to do with it and I am proud I gave his ass the death penalty

stop being mean to Maya you're dad already cost Edgy his job hey now I have another reason to hate vampire

back to cort

Q: I'm sad because you said there is a universally hated case in the second game and I figured there are only 4 and the first two aren't it and neither is the fourth so it has to be the third but then I realized that Edgy is on the cover of the game so he should be in at least half of it so he might reappear in the worse one and I am sad

back to game

Q: LIAR YOU DID HAVE YOUR LICENSE THAT IS HOW THEY RECONSTRUCTED YOUR FACE

Q: “newb”

now this sounds like 2016

Q: how do you NOT know what the UK is you s***ty excuse for a judge

I'm so mad i started being mean to the judge I should direct it to Franz for being a jerk

BF: hahaha don't worry so much about that. I'm not going to say how it plays out, but I think you'll be pleased.

Q: yessss

BF: and the third case is the one that people generally don't like: I personally think it's interesting, but it DOES have some issues.

Q: dangit

well hopefully I can like it

BF: I'm going to let you make up your own mind on it, yeah.

Q: aaalllirght

BF: I'll tell you afterwards what I actually LIKE about it, okay?

Q: alright!

Q: WAIT SO

MINI IS PRETENDING TO BE HER SISTER HUH...

Q: aw hi mimi

Q: Fanz let me explain this to you: The Von Karma family is full of assholes you all deserve to die before they cause as much suffering as your father did

ya I'm going to call the cops on your for physical assult

are we allowed to tell Maya that Mia has been possesing her a lot

Q: game you know what the date and time is if you just don't want me to know tell me

So the games are just becoming more and more about magic huh

the end of the chapter this doesn't feel finished

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