#itakemyselfsupercereal

itakemyselfsupercereal

There always seemed to be an ongoing campaign for change. Some were as mundane as a modest strike for higher wages, others opted for an ambitiously new vision of a world blissfully extinct of discrimination; rarely were their battles won with pacifism. Worthy in their own right despite their varying levels of commitment, all were banded together by their mutual mission to complicate an established system's status quo with a plague of ripples. There was no doubt to be had: activism was indeed alive and well.

    Before him showcased the  latest of its merits in all of its withered glory, thinned out by     the passing hours and a trickling depletion of interest amongst the media. What remained     was a motley crew of dutiful apostles deprived of an audience and their purpose, drained     of the energy that once kept their picket signs high and their voices strong. A little earlier on,     and he could've seen the protest peak with the instilled spirit of those dedicatedly chained     to the property and the partnering press coverage; now, the empty war ground was only     good for quiet observation and a chance for some exclusive insider conversation.

                  How could he  p o s s i b l y  resist?

Send me a URL and I will tell you my favorite thing about that blog. //closed// @mckaytriarchy // Hush, even if you did I’m happy to answer any meme you send. 

@itakemyselfsupercereal

“Felina!”  Though shouting out random names into the open space of populated areas was indeed cliche and fruitless, Tzipporah was left with little option. Ignoring the looks of confusion (and a few judgemental ones), she tried again. “Felina!” 

About fifteen more minutes were spent on this escapade before she huffed out a sigh, dropping onto a vacated bench on the side of the street. 

This was not how Paradiso’s first tour in Europe was supposed to go. The entire troupe had been floating on cloud nine ever since they received the news. An Italian promoter was looking to sponsor a tour for them through cities in Germany, Italy, and Poland. Not quite the tour they were hoping for, her father said, but it was an excellent stepping stone. If this tour did well, they were looking to expand to the tour to several other countries. Scotland, Ireland, Great Britain, maybe even France. 

They had managed to book a show in Venice, Italy. In the throes of excitement, new costumes were made, the show animals were spoiled with fresh grooming, and weeks were spent putting together new acts.

All Tzipporah did was take Felina out of her cage to stretch her legs, but the tiger managed to bolt out of the tent and off the circus grounds. Tzipporah bolted after the tigers as quickly as she could, but it was too late. She had already disappeared into the city. 

[ cont. from here ]

ⓧ He honestly wasn’t sure why he came in the first place.  It was always risky going to visit a fan.  The last time this happened he was trapped in their basement for a couple days and had to dig himself out with a spork.

This one was different.  She was a previous student at Xavier’s School for the Gifted, the predecessor school to his own.  Her situation was unique because she was one of the few students who attended that made a life of herself.

However, Doop still needed to be prepared, and when she had her back turned, he quickly headed to the closest closet, which happened to be the hall closet.  Searching it thoroughly for any chloroform, roofies or restraining devices, he quickly panicked when he heard her approaching, and grabbed the first thing he saw; D&D manuals.

The find seemed to have distracted her from his sudden invasion of her privacy, and he inwardly let out a breath of relief as he clutched the collection of papers.  “ ͒ч𝓾𝓷Ɩ\͒ 𝕒𝓾𝓷ᑭ̸°̻a ᑭ̸คค𝕒 ̻a𝓾𝓷 Ʊȝ𝕒ค ̻aƱα̻a ͒ч𝓾𝓷Ɩ\͒°^ค α ᑭ̸ค^𝕒 ° “ he told her, flipping through the pages aimlessly.  While it was never a game that Doop played, it was certainly a big deal when it came out.

Of course Reg had managed to hurt himself only an hour after setting foot on DS9. He’d been trying to avoid running into a group on the Promenade, and somehow ended up completely tripping over himself and sprawled on the floor. Naturally, he couldn’t just brush it off; he couldn’t quite put weight on his ankle. He wanted to be in the Enterprise’s sickbay with Dr. Crusher, but the infirmary was closer, and honestly? He wasn’t sure he could have walked that far anyway.

[Flashback: The "Tess Kissed Him" meme.]

There was a certain natural order that things were supposed to run on. Fish didn't fly. Birds didn't swim. Good women did not make love like porn stars.

And great big hairy musclebound marimacho like Tess McKay were NOT supposed to give the kind of kiss that induced the full-body equivalent of an erection.

It was earthshattering. It was a revelation. It was like the scene in Les Miserables where Javert found his world so turned upside down by being spared by Jean Valjean that his hurled himself to his death rather than be forced to make sense of such a contradiction.

Rather than hurling, however, though he was rather thinking of doing that in a different sense, Fabian lay on his back on his bed, over the sheets, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, completely traumatized.

It is perhaps a good time to note that fish indeed do fly; one is in fact named for that fact. And a great many birds do swim, such as the penguin. As for good women making love like porn stars, well, there are some who say the two qualities are not connected, and some still who would say making love like a porn star is what makes them a good woman in the first place, though their opinions are as flawed as our dear Fabian's are.

The worst part was that he could not honestly say he had not enjoyed it.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, excuse me—”

It’s only some slip of paper that made its way out of a pocket—a receipt, or maybe a note, Loki doesn’t look at other people’s personal effects, makes a point not to pry. She tries to be unobtrusive, too, but there’s the fact to consider that the tall redheaded woman is a good foot or so higher up than Loki, and the little goddess can’t exactly stride quickly enough to catch her in time, so calling after her is necessary.