#twinkies....they would survive all radiation

[gonzodangerfeels]

Guy wanted to waste a half hour in court trying to explain his positive cocaine test was only because he had been fucking a crackhead all weekend, and certainly not because he had been smoking crack with her. Oh no. No sir, not him.

[jiaraendgame]

Dress Code

Summary: Close to summer vacation a massive heatwave hits the Outer Banks. Kiara decides to dress comfortably to combat the unbearable temperatures despite the strict rules of the Kildare High dress code. When things take a turn the Pogues take a stand for Kie.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of over-sexualization of female bodies. Bad writing and probably editing issues even though I’ve read it through many times. Probably slightly out of character for Kie. If I missed anything let me know!

A/N: This was a request from a lovely anon a while back now. I apologize how long this took! I do hope you enjoy it. It is way longer than intended, but once more I can’t write anything short. Original concept is from THIS post made by @maybanktho​ I had fun writing this one though I lowkey struggled writing for Kie so I won’t lie this is NOT my best work. This has a lot of dialogue compared to my normal description heavy writing. Hopefully it’s not as trash as I think it is. I haven’t been in high school for a few years now so I used a lot of the dress code concepts that I remembered from back when I was in school. Regardless I hope you enjoy the Platonic!Pogues. Let me know what you think?

Word Count: 7.5k. Oops.

Gif Credit: @jjbanks​

Summer in the Outer Banks was swiftly approaching, and with it came the scorching heat and sticky humidity. While the Kook Academy was lucky enough to house central air conditioning throughout its halls, Kildare High wasn't as fortunate. No matter how many fans they ran, and windows opened, the halls of Kildare County's finest educational system felt like a sauna. The sweat and body odor radiated off the teens, and there wasn't much they could do about it.

You'd think for living on an island, the dress code in the education establishments would be a little more relaxed all things considered. Unfortunately, much like most government-run systems, a set of rules were in place to keep the teens in line. While Kildare High didn't have uniforms like the Kook Academy, they still had standards in place that told them what was and was not appropriate apparel.

Kiara was one of if not the biggest activists in Kildare High. Always fighting for environmental improvement and equal treatment and opportunity for the females of The Cut. While Kie rarely broke the rules at school unless there was good reason to do so, she would, on occasion, bend and seek out loopholes in the standards set around her by her peers. Today was one of those days. While she knew her parents would detest her resilience, Kie decided that it was beginning to become too hot to bear the standard dress code.

With Summer break a few weeks away, she thought surely the teachers and staff would let it slide as temperatures continued to rise. Thursday afternoon was to be the hottest it has been thus far on the island. There was no way she could stand her normal capris and t-shirt combo today. Instead, she chose to wear a white and blue tie-dyed tank top accompanied by a pair of jean shorts. While she didn't want to make it too obvious, she was working against the dress code, she made sure her tank top covered her shoulders by no less than two fingers worth of fabric. While the technical rule asked for three-finger coverage, she didn't think anyone would notice. She also made sure her shorts came at least to her fingertips, though, depending, they would occasionally rise up a smidgen past the parameters set, but she couldn't help that they would rise up as she walked.

These rules were mediocre at best. If Kie had a longer torso and arms, admittedly, it would make wearing shorts nearly impossible to do. She saw it time, and time again, the taller girls get dinged on their shorts being too short, not hitting the required length set by mere arm length measurements. The tank top rule was arguably as frustrating as her male counterparts got away with wearing muscle tanks and were left alone, provided the sides weren't gapped open too far down their abdomen. The whole system felt rigged against you if you were a female. No low-cut tops. No crop tops. No tank tops unless it covers your shoulders with at least three fingers width of fabric. No shorts that went above your fingertips when you had your arms down. The list goes on.

While the dress rules circled Kie's mind, she chose to ignore her second-guessing. The school wasn't going to stop her from seeking some form of comfort during this heatwave. With her mind made up and her outfit on, she headed out of her house with a quick shout goodbye to her parents. Waiting for her was the old VW Van that the Pogues dubbed The Twinkie. The windows were down, and she could hear an upbeat reggae tune flowing from the crackling old speakers. She smiled and waved to the boys jumping into the open side door.

"Good morning, boys." She hummed out.

"Morning, Kie." The brunette boy driving spoke out as he pulled into the road headed towards their final destination.

"Good is questionable, but morning regardless," Pope spoke out, his nose buried in a textbook likely studying for the math test that was to be held this morning.

"You are way too chipper for this early in the morning, Kie." The disheveled and groggy blonde boy drawled as he slings his arm around her shoulders.

"You do make a good pillow, though." JJ continues to speak, leaning his head on Kie producing fake snores from his lips.

Kie sighs at the already sticky boy leaning on her as it is too early in the morning for his antics. "It is way too hot to be leaning on me right now, JJ, get off." She shoves his side lightly.

"Aw, come on Kie, you know you love me." A small chuckle leaves his lips.

With a roll of her eyes, she slides to the left, relieving herself from the boy's arm. The heat was already rising this early morning. More confirmation that she made the right decision to wear something that would help alleviate her discomfort. Kie reaches over and flicks the brim of Pope's hat, causing him to swat lightly at her hand.

“Hey, come on now, if I don’t get this last-minute studying in, I don’t know if I’ll survive Mr. Hew’s test. It’s too early to be thinking about factorial algorithms right now.”

“Exactly it’s too early for that so… let’s just fix the problem” JJ reaches over, clasping the book closed and tossing it to Kie.

“Man, stop it, give it back!”

"Pope relax, if any of us is prepared for this, it's you. You got this, okay? Now stop stressing and have some breakfast!"

Kie pulls out a container from her bag, opening it to reveal Mr. Carrera's freshly baked banana bread. The smell permeates the van filling the boy's nostrils. A tan arm reaches out, swiping one from the container and promptly shoving half of it in his mouth.

“Don’t have to ask me twice!” JJ speaks crumbs falling from his overstuffed mouth.

"JJ, that's…" Kie pauses only to have her sentence finished by Pope seconds later.

“Disgusting…” he nods in agreement. Politely reaching over and snatching a baked good for himself.

“Hey! Don’t forget the driver now! Don’t make me pull this van over.” John B pipes up from the front seat.

"Relax John B, we could never forget you." Kie speaks, handing the brunette his slice of banana bread. Finally, then taking the last slice for herself, savoring the sweet symphony dancing on her tongue.

With the Pogues finishing their breakfast courtesy of Kie and her father, it wasn't long before they pulled into view of Kildare High. A slight unanimous sigh leaving their mouths. Another day here is another day closer to having the best Summer ever. Kie thought to herself. As the van slowed, the group of friends were quickly greeted with the humidity kissing their skin. With the lack of wind flowing through the gapping windows as the van parked with a clank, JJ slides open the side door.

Jumping out of the van, the blonde Pogue speaks up. "It should be illegal to have to go to school when it's this hot out. We should be hitting the waves right now."

“You know there was actually a case that a school in New York City shut down due to an extreme heatwave in 2018.” Pope chimed in standing beside JJ.

“If only we were that lucky, I would kill to be out on the HMS Pogue right now.” John B forcefully shuts the driver’s door.

JJ holds his hand out for Kie to grab, and as she grasps it, she can feel the sweat form. A slight grimace graces her face as JJ practically peels Kie off like a piece of tape stuck to the sticky seat in the van.

"You know boys… I don't say this often, but days like these, I so desperately want to skip."

"Ooh, look at Kie thinking all rebellious today." JJ winks at her a smug look twinkling in his eyes.

“Shut up JJ, I’m not like you. I don’t ditch out whenever there’s a good swell to surf.”

JJ clutches his chest, mock offended by her comment. "You're just jealous that instead of taking the Spanish quiz last week, I was out living my best life." he chuckles.

“You guys are ridiculous, let’s head in before we are late again. I’m really not feeling detention today.” Pope starts towards the doors, JJ and John B in tow.

“When are you ever feeling detention Pope?” John B jokes.

Kie quickens her pace and bumps her hip into John B for pestering their friend. Entering the doors of the school, it was clear everyone was feeling the heat today. Maybe I can actually get away with this, Kie hoped. As she glances around, she sees many others also ditching the likes of the apparel parameters set up by the school district.

The Pogues meandered their way through several other kids from The Cut. The occasional "What's up!" and nods being given as they reached their destination: room 204, Math with Mr. Hew. Pushing through the door, they rush for seats in the back of the class. The boys had the jump on Kie, noticing there were only 3 seats open towards the end of the classroom. JJ playfully shoved John B as he rushed to the one farthest back sliding into the chair with a smack. A smirk adorned his face triumphant of his victory. Pope and John B glanced towards each other before the second chair was stolen by Pope, who was now sitting adjacent to JJ.

“Come on! You guys always get the good seats.”

A laugh leaves the two boys' lips. "Sometimes you gotta fight dirty JB." JJ calls out, looking over to Kie, who is farthest from the remaining seat.

Kie stands between desks shaking her head at the boys who, within 2 minutes of entering the classroom, caused a commotion over something as simple as seating arrangements.

"Come on, Kie, one more seat left; you aren't gonna let John B beat you to it, are you?" JJ's playful tone rang in her ears. Though she knew better than to join their early morning antics, the enticement was there. She knew they were right; the back seats were the best to sit in, especially in Mr. Hew's class. It was seconds after JJ spoke that John B started to head for the chair, a "No way," leaning his lips at the boy's teasing words.

She had to think quickly as John B was sure to get there before her when an idea popped into her head. JJ was right. Sometimes you gotta play dirty, she thought. She went to take a step, and in a forward trust fall fashion, Kie squeaked her voice to mimic panic to grab the boy's attention as she purposefully tripped on a desk leg. She knew he wouldn't let her fall, well as long as he believed it was real.

John B being the guy that he is, was quick on his feet as he caught Kie's arm and pulled her weight toward him, so she fell into his chest rather than the floor. Straightening her up, John B scans his eyes over her looking for any injuries before asking if she was okay. Being in front of him, Kiara had a better angle to get to the desk before the boy knew what was going on.

"My hero John B!" Kie dramatically peaks her voice playing a damsel in distress. "Thanks for the help, sucker!" She laughs as she pushes John B's shoulders back and dashes to the open seat next to JJ.

"Oh! Oh no, you don't!" John B swiftly wraps his arms around Kie's torso and twirls her as they erupt in laughter.

"Dirty plays, my man! I told you to watch out." JJ laughs at their friend’s rush to get the seat.

Before Kie realized it, her top was riding up, revealing her midriff, and her shorts slid up her thighs. She knew she had to adjust herself quickly, even if that meant losing the good seat. However, it was already too late. A booming voice calls out over the classroom.

"Routledge, Carrera, Maybank, Heyward!" The stern yet irritated tone called out to the four Pogues. John B quickly placed Kie back to the ground. Their attention was now focused on the man in a Hawaiian top and khaki shorts who stood in front of the room.

"Why, good morning to you too, Mr. Hew, what a particularly sweltering day we are having, isn't it?" JJ mockingly spoke while the rest of the Pogues gave him the side-eye wishing he would have kept his mouth shut.

"I've had enough of this disruption." The heat had everyone in a cranky mood today. This didn't exclude the teachers as Mr. Hew scolded the Pogues hooligan behavior.

"Mr. Hew, honestly, we didn't mean to get you upset, we just wanted to find good seats, and we may have gotten a bit carried away." John B tried to back pedal his friends out of the mess they started to no avail.

"I don't care for your reasoning Routledge; my classroom is not your jungle gym. If you four continue this today, you all will receive zeros for your tests." The seriousness rang out in his words.

"Sir, isn't that a little harsh all things considered? The bell hasn't even rung yet, we didn't mean to cause any harm." Kiara spoke out protective over the Pogues, knowing a zero on this test would affect all their grades. While JJ didn't care, he needed this grade to pass the class, and Pope couldn't risk a drop that would threaten his scholarship. John B rode the middle line, his grades not as bad as JJ's, but still at the risk of being lower than necessary for a smart kid when he chooses to use his head. Kie's grades were up there, not at Pope's level, but enough to be noticeable if she failed. They were never the golden kids, but who was when they came from The Cut? The closest one to being a model student was Pope, but even he would get caught up in the actions of his friends.

Mr. Hew looked over to Kiara, ready to refute her prominent yet protective attitude, but before he spoke, another problem arose. Kie's shorts were scrunched up much higher than the fingertip limit. While she was able to cover her midriff before any notice happened, she hadn't had the chance to pull the hem of her shorts down her thighs before she spoke in defense for the Pogues and their grades.

A sigh left Mr. Hew's lips. "We have a problem here, don't we Ms. Carrera," he spoke, facing her. He was giving her an out, to admit she had an apparel problem, but Kie wouldn't give in. Maybe she could talk her way out of it, she hoped.

"What do you mean, sir? I don't think anything is wrong other than you threatening zeros on our tests." She attempted to bring the attention back to the group and their earlier horseplay. To no avail, Mr. Hew shook his head at her.

"Kiara… please place your arms down and fingertips straight." He spoke to her before turning away from where she stood and pulled out the school handbook. Mr. Hew was a big stickler for that thing. He read it and abided by it like it was the bible itself. The Pogues looked on at her confusion, scrunched up in their furrowed brows and watchful eyes.

Kiara did as she was told trying to pull the hem down in the process, but with no luck, her fingertips reached well past her shorts. The hem just hitting her middle knuckles. She was busted.

"Sir, before you say anything, this can be fixed. I am not in any violation here. Just hold on."

"Stop. Kiara, you know the rules. The dress code is very clear to all students. You can't come around here dressed like that." The tone in his voice was condescending. This was enough to set her off. She would not be patronized over a rule that had no logical substance to them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hew, correct me if I'm wrong, but are you telling me that because my shorts ride up a bit with normal movement, I am dressed in a manner that isn't appropriate?" She questions his notion, over the hypocrisy that females were held to standards that ridiculed the human body.

"I am saying that you should have known dressing in those would cause provocative allure that is much too revealing to your fellow students." He pauses before clearing his throat and speaking again. "Now, you have to go change or be sent to in-school suspension for the rest of your day until you find appropriate items to wear in class."

Kiara scoffs at the perceptions being placed on her as they were demeaning to her as a female. She wouldn’t stand for the blatant sexism occurring in front of her. The Pogues quickly realized that this was not going to end well.

"Excuse me, are you telling me that I am creating a distraction with my body because I dressed in shorts. Do you not understand how entirely sexist that is?" Kiara had had it with the blatant disregard of her body, feeling like she was being looked at as an object and not a human.

Her voice continued to get louder as she ranted on towards the red-faced teacher growing angrier by the second. "This is ridiculous. The boys can have half their abdomens peeking through the sides of their tank tops and not be causing a distraction, but as a female, if I am showing too much of my thighs, this is a problem. You are sexualizing mine and other female bodies like we are a piece of meat. This is so screwed up; these rules are against the females of this school and praise the boys due to our sexual organs. News flash, we are all human and guess what it is beyond hot outside. So, I am sorry I chose to dress with comfort in mind and not the worry of stimulating the sexual minds of my peers because I am showing my thighs. God forbid I wore a bathing suit, right? Now that would really be a distraction."

"Carrera! Out of my classroom, now!" The teacher boomed his hand, gesturing towards the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are my thighs too distracting for you, sir? Are they turning you on? If so, you are the one with the real problem here, Mr. Hew. Doesn't look too good if a single human feature is causing all this trouble for you, does it? The sexualization of the female body in this society is sickening. Wearing shorts is not provocative, and if you think it is okay to patronize someone for their choice of clothing, then you sir are the one with the problem. The length of my shorts is not a reason to sexualize myself or any girl. We should be able to dress comfortably on a hot day without being looked at as an object. I-"

“Out! Carrera get out of this classroom and go to the office. You are done for the day!” Mr. Hew was fuming with anger at Kiara’s words as he fumbled his last warning to the girl.

The Pogues and the rest of the class had their eyes wide, and mouths dropped to the floor. Kiara was always passionate about the rights of women and how they were treated compared to men. Even in something as minuscule as a school system dress code, the everyday over-sexualization of females and their bodies was pitiful. She wasn't upset that she was being sent out of the room; she was angry that people viewed her and others as just a piece of meat prime for their viewing pleasures.

Kiara grabbed her bag and swiftly left the classroom, visibly distraught. She never expected this day to end up like this, but here she was. As she went to the office, the principal was already made aware of the incident. Without a second thought, Kiara was given one day of in-school suspension starting tomorrow. Followed by a two day out of school suspension that was to begin the upcoming Monday morning for her lash out in the classroom and accusatory words towards her teacher. All things considering, she was let off with a light sentence. Her parents, however, wouldn't be as lenient.

With Kiara out of the classroom, the bell had finally rung signally for class to begin. Mr. Hew tried to bring order back into place as the Pogues all glanced over at each other. Unsure of what to do. While they always poked fun at Kie when she went on her tirades to them in the past this time, they came to the realization that she was right. She and fellow female students were treated with a bias towards them when it came to the dress code in place. It wasn't fair, and they knew they had to do something about it, they just weren't sure of what.

JJ is frantic and as subtle as a bull in a china shop whips out his phone, quickly texting the other boys. In shock of what took place, he started to brainstorm ideas.

JJ

Did you guys see Kie? My god, she was fuming!

 Pope

We all saw her idiot. She made valid points though

 John B

Yeah, she's right, it really wasn't fair for her to get dress coded. Look at all the times JJ comes in with his muscle tanks on, he's always flashing his nips, but no one says anything.

 Pope

You aren’t wrong, but what are we gonna do about it?

 JJ

Hey man, I resent that statement. Really though, we gotta come up with something! If it were us in this situation, you know Kie would have our backs.

 Pope

We could protest? Maybe petition to get the standards changed?

 John B

How? It’s not like we can come in here with short shorts on, that would just look like a big joke.

 Pope

We need to figure out how to stand with her in solidarity in some way that isn’t foolish.

JJ

OMG

JB THAT’S IT!

 Pope

I am NOT wearing short shorts! JJ, it's out of the question.

 John B

Yeah, man, I'm not really following you here.

 JJ

No, you idiots! Ugh, okay mandatory meeting at the Chateau after school! I have an idea!

Pope and John B glance at each other with a nervous look lingering in their eyes. When JJ was the one making plans, you never knew what was gonna happen. There was a reason he was never in charge of their past excursions.

While the day dragged on, the boys were anxious to get in contact with Kie. She wasn't answering her texts. That was never a good sign, likely meaning her parents didn't take the news too well and confiscated her phone. With the final bell signaling the end of the day, the boys hopped into the Twinkie and were off to The Wreck. They wanted to check in on Kie before their gathering back at the Chateau.

The boys lingered outside for a moment before stepping into the bustling restaurant. They glanced around and quickly made eye contact with Mr. Carrera. He greeted them with a begrudging expression written on his face. Pope takes a step forward and speaks on behalf of the boys.

"Hey there, Mr. C. we just wanted to check in and see if Kiara was okay? Do you think we could talk to her for a moment?" The boy's polite and soft manner caused a sigh to leave Mr. Carrera's mouth.

"My delinquent of a daughter isn't here right now. She is at home and will remain there for two weeks but thank you for asking about her. While I don't condone her or her friend's actions, at least it's clear to me you boys look after her. Even if it is in a questionable manner." The tough but concerned father looked over the boys once more hesitantly, happy to know his daughter had people who cared about her, unlike when she was in the Kook Academy.

"I will tell her you boys visited, but you won't be able to speak to her for a little while. She won't have access to her phone as part of her punishment. Now, if you don't plan to order anything, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." The stern figure spoke to them. It was clear Kie's father was never too keen on her Pogue friends and lifestyle choices, but over time he has come to warm up around them knowing they made his daughter happy. That's all he could ever want for her is for her to be happy and feel loved.

"Right well, thank you, sir, for the update. We are sorry to bother you." Pope speaks, taking a step back as the other boys turn to head out towards the van.

Once outside, they started their trek back to John B's. The windows were down while they cruised the bumpy dirt roads of The Cut, allowing the air to flow through and dance around the boys' heat-stricken bodies. They all pondered just how to help Kiara's situation.

Hours had passed since they got to the Chateau, and with beers, in their hands, JJ finally opened his mouth eager to tell the boys of his brilliant idea. "Okay, so the stand with Kie meeting has officially been called to order and boys do I have the best plan." A mischievous smirk plastered itself across JJ's sweaty sun-kissed face.

"Yeah, something about you and "best plan" doesn't exactly go together there, chief." Pope chuckled.

"If I recall, your last "best plan" ended with us getting into a scuffle with the Kooks and Kie having to break it up. So, let's hope this plan of yours isn't as disastrous." John B chimes in.

"Alright, alright, shut up, you guys. Just because my plans don't always go to plan doesn't mean they don't get the job done. Sometimes we have to go off-book."

"What do you mean, off-book?" John B eyeballs the blonde confusion on his face.

“Well, you remember what Kie said? Her body is overly sexualized while us guys get away with wearing basically whatever we want. That pesky little rule book faults girls but favors the boys.”

“I see what you are saying, but I’m not quite sure I’m following.” Pope pipes up.

"Shirtless. We go to school tomorrow, shirtless." JJ blurts out his thoughts, the other boys go wide-eyed. "If they are going to sexualize thighs in shorts, but not our practically bare abdomens when we wear cut-offs, then why not just show up without shirts on at all."

"You know… that could work. It's like…" John B snaps his fingers together, searching for the words he wishes to speak.

"It's like reverse psychology or whatever!" JJ completed John B's train of thought.

"Yes! Okay, I'm in. Protest the unjust sexualization of female bodies under the dress code. For once, JJ, you might actually have a great idea."

"What can I say? I was due for one eventually, right? So, what do you say, Pope?" The blue-eyed boy turns to Pope, who has been awfully quiet during this whole process of discussion.

The boy sighs towards his friends, who wore goofy smiles on their faces. Excited for their scheme. "I don't know… it seems frivolous at best."

“Can’t we just get a petition going instead and collect signatures to change the dress code to be more fitting for our tropical climate?”

"Aw c'mon man, you know a bunch of teenaged signatures isn't gonna fix anything. The school board isn't going to budge on this, and neither will the parents unless we make a show of the ridiculous rules instead." John B tries to reason with the boy whose eyebrows were knitted together, detesting the thought of showing up to a school environment shirtless.

"Pope man, he's right. They aren't going to listen to us, when have they ever? If we want to show Kie support, then we will have to do it our way… Pogue style." JJ urges the boy.

“Just think of it like this man… When has there ever been a moment where Kie didn’t have our backs?” John B asks the boy.

"Well… she always stands by us even when we make stupid decisions." Pope recalls starting to realize how much Kie does for them.

"Exactly! So, we need to do this for her. It's not for us." John B and JJ go back and forth, continuing to push at Pope's buttons, urging him to go along with the plan.

“It’s for Kie. She always helps you study when she knows you are stressed about a big exam.”

“And she always encourages you and your scholarship. Even if she teases you for being on the math team instead of playing baseball.” The boys chuckle as they continue back and forth.

"She is always bringing us food or getting us leftovers from The Wreck knowing otherwise there would be times we wouldn't eat. Or attempt to eat expired goods." John B eyeballs JJ.

“It was one-time man… but really. She is always bringing us beer and snacks when we go out on the HMS Pogue.”

“Always getting us out of trouble when the Kooks come around talking shit.”

"Making sure we actually take care of any injuries we get, so they don't get infected."

“Being a shoulder for all of us to lean on when we need it.”

"Come on, Pope, she's always keeping an eye on us, and all the while still enjoys slumming it with us and our crazy antics. She is a Pogue, and we can't leave her hanging."

With a moment of silence, Pope ponders his options. Knowing his friends are right despite how silly the protest would be. He soon speaks up, "Never leave a Pogue behind, right?" He smiles as the other boy’s cheer ecstatically to have convinced the more conservative boy to go along with their big plan.

"So, it's settled. Tomorrow bright and early, the shirtless protest begins." The boys all share a handshake in agreement.

As the boys awoke from their designated spots in the Chateau, they proceeded to get ready for their protest plans. Just as the previous days, the forecast was calling for high temperatures and humidity, making it the perfect day to pull off their scheme. With John B and JJ loaded into the Twinkie clad in nothing but their shorts and shoes, they were off to retrieve Pope hoping he hadn't had second doubts. Like clockwork, the boy strolls out of his home and jumps into the back of the van book bag in tow. The Pogues huffed as they noticed the navy-blue shirt adorning their friend's frame.

“Pope… the plan?” JJ questions furrowing his brows.

"If either of you thought I would be able to step outside my house without a shirt on to go to school, you two are nuts. No way would my pops let that fly."

The other two hum acceptingly knowing he was right. As they drove along the roads towards the school, the boys all eagerly shifted in their seats. Their plan was chaotic at best, and the moment they would step into those dimly lit halls, all eyes would be on them. As John B parks the van, he looks back at his friends.

“Well, it’s now or never boys. Let’s do this.”

"Pogue style baby, let's go!" JJ cheered more eagerly compared to the others.

"Here comes detention…" Pope spoke as he tugged the fabric over his head, exposing his bare chest to match his friend’s "outfits" boasting nothing but shorts and a set of shoes.

“That a boy Pope, let’s do it for Kie.”

“For Kie!” John B and Pope called back in unison.

The boys walk tow in tow together towards the building, already catching the gazes of the other kids from The Cut. The whispers and giggles soon to follow. While the stares made Pope uncomfortable, JJ was eating up the attention. John B also taking the comments he'd catch in stride.

"Looking good, JJ." A redheaded girl calls out to him, he smirks and gives her a wink before turning to her friend's eyes widened.

"You are enjoying this a little too much, JJ." John B chuckles.

"Hey, it's not my fault; they like what they see."

“Like they need to feed your ego anymore,'' Pope nudges his friend, laughing.

"Aw, don't worry, bub. I see some eyeballs looking at you too." John B pesters the boy who is clearly not as comfortable in this situation as his friends are.

"Shut up, and let's just do this." The boys appear in front of Mr. Hew's door. Ready for the chaos that is sure to let loose as soon as they are spotted.

Entering the room one by one, the Pogues nonchalantly scurry to the back of the room. As the bell rang, more comments and a few winks, whistles, and laughs passed their classmate's lips. The stir of commotion quickly alerting Mr. Hew to their presence.

"What have I told you, boys, about-" He pauses, fully taking in the shirtless boy's appearances. He shuts his eyes, brings his hands to his face, and rubs over his features in frustration as he sighs and whispers to himself. "In god's name, what is even happening."

"I do hope you boys packed shirts to go along with your textbooks today." He sternly speaks. "Or will you three be joining Ms. Carrera for in-school suspension today?"

"What do you mean, sir? We are just here to peacefully protest."

“What in god's name do you think you are protesting boy?” Mr. Hew continued to grow more infuriated with the site in front of him.

"I believe that our cause is quite clear, sir." Pope speaks.

“We are protesting the unjust rules enforced upon the lovely ladies of our student body.” JJ chimes in, his lip perked in the corner of his mouth.

"Considering how Kiara was treated yesterday and others in this very establishment, it is our job to bring awareness to the unfair treatment. We all got bodies, sir, and quite frankly to sexualize one specific gender and not the other is biased."

"If you boys don't quit this nonsense immediately, I will have you escorted out of the classroom. This is your only warning."

"So, you have nothing to say on the biased standards set here at Kildare High?"

The straw had finally broken the camel's back in the humidity dense classroom. Mr. Hew raised his voice, causing the students to stare on their eyes full as the Pogues were reprimanded.

"You boys have no respect! When have you ever followed the rules? I do not make the handbook, but I will enforce the guidelines as that is my job—something you three clearly do not understand. If you don't grow up and follow the rules even when you don't agree, you are bound to get yourselves into serious trouble. Now I will not ask again. Put on your shirts of leave. Immediately." Their teacher red in the face huffed out his tyrannical words to the three boys who continue to stand their ground. Not budging at his request.

The creak of the door opening sounded, shifting the Pogues' focus as a familiar face stepped in the room. Kiara steps in a red pass in her hand, indicating she was coming from the in-school suspension office. Kie draws Mr. Hew's attention away from the boys. The boys smiled towards Kie, waiting to see her reaction, hoping she would be proud of them.

"Sorry to bother you, sir. I was just coming in to grab today's course wo- oh my god." her words trail off, seeing her Pogues standing side by side shirtless chests puffed out in a defiant demeanor.

“What did you guys do?” She speaks out in shock as Mr. Hew turned towards the girl.

"If it isn't the lady of the hour. I'm sure you knew all about this. Still causing trouble when you aren't allowed in the classroom. Tell me, Carrera, is this idea of a protest a joke to you?" His hateful language spews out towards the girl. The boys ready to jump to her defense, but Kie was faster at the draw then them.

"Do you truly believe I am that obsessed with getting a rise out of you when it was unlikely, I would witness it, sir? That is a bit ridiculous, I'm not in any way responsible for this. These knuckleheads are on their own with this one." She chuckles at the thought.

“I find it unlikely you wouldn’t orchestrate a protest as you have many times in the past Ms. Carrera. Now tell your boys to drop your plan.” The accusatory teacher huffed.

"Even if I was a part of this, which I am not. If I told these boys to stop, the chances of them listening to me are slim at best." Kie stood her ground soon, having the Pogues chime in.

"I'd have to agree with Kie, sir, she really wasn't involved in all this," Pope spoke out as the other two Pogues hummed in agreement to his words.

"This was all us baby, straight from our brilliant minds." JJ beamed at the thought of his plan, causing this much of a stir.

"Even if she asked us to stop, we wouldn't. She doesn't deserve to be treated as an object by yourself or the mandated rules in an outdated handbook. None of the girls here do." John B spoke in a brotherly tone, protective over his friend.

"That is, it, I have had it! Enough with the nonsense, there will be no more of this. Carrera, Heyward, Maybank, Routledge out of my classroom now!"

"Gladly," JJ spoke, gripping his bag and walking towards the old door covered in chipped and peeling paint. The other three followed his lead stepping towards the exit. Once out the door and a few steps down the hallway, they notice Kie being quieter than expected.

“Kie?”

“You good?”

The boys spoke as she stopped in the crossway of the building. She turned to face the boys at first with an unreadable expression displayed on her face. This made the others anxious, worried she was mad at their actions.

"I cannot believe you guys did that." A smile spreads across her lips, followed by a laugh. The boys quickly relax. John B places his rough hand on her shoulder.

"Thank JJ, it was his idea."

"Yeah, I was just gonna start a petition, but this fool thought it would be better to bring a physical awareness to the biased culture you have to face." Pope offers a sweet understanding smile towards Kie.

"Well, I'll be damned JJ Maybank with a plan that didn't end in bloodshed." She pokes the boys exposed skin.

"Hey, they don't all end in bloodshed!" The crew looks at the boy knowingly.

"Okay, maybe they do sometimes, but I was due for a successful plan eventually!" The blonde headed boy shrugs.

"While I wouldn't call this entirely successful JJ, I would say it was endearing. And damn funny, did you see Mr. Hew's face?" The girl continues to walk, leading the boys down the hall, passing the office door.

"Uh, Kie, you missed our stop," Pope called out.

"Did I, though? I mean, we are already in trouble. Would you rather spend the day in a stuffy office or out on the waves?" Kie's rebellious words give rise to the boys.

“Hell yeah, that’s our girl! Let’s go! We can swing by JB’s and swipe the boards out front!” JJ rushes towards the doubled door exit of the school building, Kie quickly following suit.

"Guys, this is gonna make things so much worse!" Pope calls to his friends.

"Come on, bubba, live a little. Can't be any worse than what your dad's gonna say later! Better enjoy the freedom while we still got it!" John B jogs backward, speaking to Pope. The boy sighs and pushes his friend's shoulder, spinning him forward as they make their non-stealthy escape from the dimly lit school halls of Kildare High.

The delinquent group of teens jump their way into John B's van, making a quick but noisy getaway as the engine roars to life. The exhaust sputtering out smoke as they pull off the school property with haste. The group laughs and cheers as they head towards the Chateau, ready to start a day of rebellious fun skipping out on the school parameters. The humid air grows thick and sticky as the morning sun hits its high point.

After the pit stop at John B's, the Pogues gathered the necessities for the day. JJ strapped the boards to the van while Kie and Pope rummaged the kitchen for any edible snacks and remaining beers they could pack. John B took his time to gas up the van while the others changed into their swimwear.

As the day went on and the heat rose, the Pogues spent their time together laughing and splashing in the water. Catching as many waves as they could feeling the cool touch of the sea on their skin. Hours had passed, and the group grew tired, opting to sit on their boards as the waves rolled passed them. They knew they would have to call it a day soon, having to face the consequences that awaited them.

The calm silence circled the air around the Pogues. All content with spending this time together. They were always the happiest spending days like these together—nothing to stop them from having these moments together. The content energy filling their lungs.

"I just wanted to thank you guys again," Kie spoke, looking between the boys she so lovingly called her best friends. They meant the world to her, and she would never not appreciate them even on the days they got under her skin.

“It was nothing Kie, you would have done the same for us.” JJ calls out over the roar of the ocean surrounding them.

“He’s right you are always by our sides when things go south, it’s the least we could do.” Pope chimes in.

Exactly, we wouldn't leave you behind; it's not in the Pogue nature." John B smiles wide, knowing his group always had each other's backs.

"You guys are idiots, you really didn't have to get yourselves into trouble over me. Regardless that was really sweet of you all, and I love you fools for it." Her words rang out with love and admiration for the group.

"I suppose we should head back in, we can't avoid the world forever, though I wish we could." John B calls out as he starts to paddle back to the shore. Pope following suit. JJ looks over to Kie, a smile on his face happy to have helped his friend today, knowing he would do anything for them no matter the consequences he faced.

"Hey, JB! I'm crashing at yours tonight." JJ calls out, shifting his weight as he paddles to follow the boys. He looks back at Kie who is looking up toward the late afternoon sun, a peaceful look settled across her face.

"Earth to Kie, you coming in?" He calls back to her, bringing her attention to the boys who are halfway towards the shore now.

"Yeah, I'm coming, just taking my last breath of free air before I go home." She half chuckles, knowing she isn't wrong. Her parents are bound to add more time to her previous grounded sentence. Though that wasn't what was really on her mind.

As the Pogues gathered on the beach sand sticking to their wet toes, they dry off with their towels before heading towards the van.

"Hey!" Kie calls out, catching the three boys' attention. Without another word, she throws her arms around them, embracing their arms as they quickly respond to her notion. Even JJ, who wasn't much of a hugger, found comfort being in his friend's embrace. It was his safe space, his real family. They all felt it. The love and endearment they held for each other. No matter the crazy adventures they would go on, they knew at the end of the day they had each other.

The crew broke away and headed back towards the Twinkie. As the boys loaded up the boards, Kie grabbed the remaining snacks from the cooler and passed them out once everyone was settled in. The side door closed with a metal clang as they ventured their way to their drop off spots.

The ride back flowed with casual conversations between the four, smiles, and laughs adorning their faces. As they approached Kie's home, she found herself lost in her thoughts. The feeling of having people care for you so much that they risk getting into trouble on your behalf warmed Kiara's heart. She couldn't have asked for a better group of friends looking out for her. While this isn't the first time they would go down together in trouble as a group, surely it wouldn't be their last.

Tagging some mutuals who hopefully won’t hate me for tagging them in this monstrosity. @jjbanks​ @john-benderr​ @void-maybank​ @northcarolinanative​ @outerbongs​ @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @pit-zuh​ @sguymon21​ @outrebanx​ @outerbankslut​ @hmspxgue​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @drewsephsmiles​ @scandalousfemale​ @moldisgoodforyou​ @ad-infinitums​ @futuretaxcheat​ @ptersparkers​ @rudysbay​ @drewswannabegirl​ @lenaandcalliope​ @diverdcwn​ @mermaidssonshipss​

[reidluver]

Good Omens: Angel & Demon Headcanon series (3/?)

(These will all be addressed in fanfic later, but here’s a sneak peek)

Hastur:

- His wings resemble a cayuga duck, black with a green iridescent sheen

- He’s skilled at climbing trees, can extend his tongue 2 ft, can jump a distance of 100 ft, and likes to just sit in lakes and ponds from time to time

- Full demonic form: his limbs get longer and skinnier like a tree frog, his fingers develop discs that enable him to stick to any surface, his skin color is light grey with hints of green like a cuban tree frog, the distance he can jump and extend his tongue double, and he can secrete toxins onto his skin

- He was an anxious angel and stayed an equally anxious demon. Having a sense of control is important to him; when things are too out of his control it stresses him out. He’s prone to panic attacks but makes up for his perceived “weakness” by being vicious and downright cruel/nasty when circumstances require (sometimes when it doesn’t). This quality plays a large part in him being a Duke          - He enjoys setting things on fire because nothing else makes humans scatter and scream as much as fire does

- Terrified of any form of transportation that goes faster than he can run, such as horse-drawn carriage, train, car, plane, etc. One would think he'd hate flying as well, but he enjoys it. What he hates isn't the "drop" feeling in his chest or the actual speed itself, again it's more the matter of not being in control, and he is fully in charge when he flies except when he Fell, he was falling too fast, couldn’t move his burning wings           - Rollercoasters are a definite NO. When he saw one in person for the first time, he had a panic attack, imagining himself hurtling through the air not only at neck-breaking speeds, but twisting-turning-looping in a constant battle between gravity and rickety tracks. Thankfully Ligur was there to pull him away and hold him until he calmed down

- Both looks up to and is jealous of Crowley, like a younger brother wanting to be like his cooler big brother. They crawled out of the sulfur pools next to each other and formed an uneasy truce to survive the adjustment period. Demons were attacking each other left and right as they dealt with their hatred and painful transformations. Having someone watch your back meant you were attacked less. Crowley was a powerful angeldemon, Hastur was scared, and Crowley’s protection seared a lasting impression on Hastur’s emotions and mind. They grew apart as Crowley spent more time on Earth and Hastur grew closer to Ligur, but Hastur can’t shake that initial bond they had, no matter how hard he tries, much to his frustration

- Can NOT do any form of seductive temptations. No matter how hard he tries, he can't get his body to move with any sort of calculated suaveness. He either comes across as overbearing or awkward. He hates how good Crowley is at it and is self-conscious at how good Ligur is. Hastur kept trying to succeed for centuries, desperate to prove himself, but when a human actually responded, Hastur spontaneously discorporated from a combination of shock/horror. He never tried again, and stuck to putting thoughts/doubt directly into human minds 

- Pretends not to enjoy Ligur's occasional displays of affection. He'll roll his eyes and scoff, but then lean into the touch. He’s uncomfortable/insecure with reciprocating fully, but he’s fiercely protective of Ligur and will clutch Ligur’s coat, wrist, finger, or hand from time to time

- Loves all forms of sugary treats, but his tastes are less like Aziraphale's and more like a child set free in a candy shop. He prefers processed junk food like Cosmic Brownies and Twinkies over decadent desserts served at 5-star restaurants. (He's the real reason Twinkies came back) He justifies it as partaking in gluttony, but is too self-conscious to indulge all that often. What self-respecting demon gets excited about an ice-cream sundae smothered in chocolate and rainbow sprinkles? Basically, if it's colorful, full of an obscene amount of sugar, and looks like a Willy Wonka creation—he'll love it. Also, the "Pure Imagination" scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is his absolute favorite. He would love to visit a room where everything is an edible sugary confection            - Ligur will accompany him to diners occasionally and "stand guard" so Hastur can enjoy a shake or sundae. Ligur watches Hastur's childish glee out of the corner of his eyes with fondness            - Aziraphale is thrilled to find someone who delights in food like him, but is slightly put off by Hastur's more "pedestrian" preferences. However, Hastur still appreciates fancy desserts, and Aziraphale eagerly introduces him to treats like a dark chocolate pavlova or suspiro de limeña

- Invented arson, pyromania, and the majority of incendiary bombs, making him an expert           - The atom bomb was a total human invention. Radiation isn’t his style—he prefers a more explosive and fiery approach

- To him, fire is calming to watch and one would think it’s too hard to control but he knows the science behind it, understands the exothermic chemical processes behind it down to the molecules, so really—all it takes are a few miracles to control the combustion and oxidizer and fire is his to manipulate

---------

Preening the Rift: The Ineffable Plan headcanons Michael Ligur Hastur Michael/Ligur/Hastur Gabriel [pending] + more…

[randomfandomz]

Sanders Sides Zombie Apocalypse AU

This is currently a project/storyline I am very passionate about, but due to my ever-changing modivation, I wont be making a seperate blog for this just yet. Eventually I may make a seperate blog for this, but as of now this is all the info i have for this. I may make a fanfic for this. Feel free to send me asks or ideas for it. And if you wanna be tagged in posts related to this au, I'd be glad to do so, just send me a message or ask. Thanks for reading.^^

*Thomas doesn't exist in this au and the sides were all just regular people before the apocalypse began*

Patton: [Adult/older teen 19-21ish] that takes care of the other sides, who are all younger than him and almost all kiddos. He used to work at an afterschool program at an elementary&Jr. Highschool as a Rec. Leader, but once the apocalypse started everything went to chaos and most of the kids at the school either became infected or died. He found a few of them, orphaned and/or alone. He tried to take care of them, but the group of kids was too big for him to handle alone and most of them ended up dying or being infected on his watch. He still blames himseld for their deaths. The only one that was able to survive was Virgil. Patton likes to sew and made Virgil a purple and black hoodie out of some fabric he had been saving up, but he wasnt sure Virgil would like the purple, since he usually only likes all-black clothing. He was beyond excited when Virgil ended up loving the jacket so much that he now wears it on a faily basis and rarely takes it off.

Roman: [a older than Dee but younger than Virgil] Salvages any art supplies he can find. So far he has 12 pencils that all are pretty dull by now, 3 sharpeners 2 of which dont work very well and 1 of which that is broken, but he still insists he has to carry it around. He holds any kind if paper or writing surface he can find absolutely precious to him and he rations out his supplies sparingly. Especially after he once found half a box of used crayons that was used up and gone by the end of the month. Seemingly has an endless ammount of energy. Takes any criticism he gets rather harshly and absolutely cannot be proud of something that even one member of the gorup dislikes in the slightest. The others call him "Rolo". He gives the others nicknames too, some they like and some they dont.

Logan: [around 14, hes one of the older kiddos] Former rich prodigy son of one of the main scientists working on the project that caused the apocalypse; knows a lot about how to survive the apocalypse, compared to the rest, and is the main reason that the group has survived as long as they have. Hes extremely guilty about what his father helped make happen. He has trouble communicating to the rest of the group, can be a little cold, and is rather reserved. The others are the only ones he fully trust. A bit spoiled and doesnt understand how his words affect others, such as making unkind comments about Deceit's scar, Roman's passionate attitude, Patton's undying trust and optimism, and/or Virgil's decision to wear his hoodie no matter the weather; he is more hurtful to some than others. He likes Virgil the most, since the two can match eachother in wit and Lo has an overall respect for him.

Virgil: [around 12; a bit older than the others in the group but definitely not the oldest] Has a close relationship with Patton and Logan. Calls Patton "Dad", and sees him as a father figure, but sometimes Patton has to remind Virgil that it's okay to call him "Dad". He doesnt like Deceit much and is suspicious of his lying nature. The two fight sometimes, and it occasionay puts the group in danger. Virgil and Deceit act like siblings, and dispite fighting, they do somewhat care about eachother as such. After an arguement, Virgil sometimes seeks out a yellow flower or special item of said color, as yellow seems to calm him down. Virge is pretty sarcastic and pessimistic, which contrasts Patton, who practically radiates optimism.

Deceit: [looks to be around 5-7 years old, never tells the group exactly how old he is; his answer varies everytime they ask] he lost his eye and now has a huge scar on the upper left half of his face, but he refuses to tell the others anything about how he got it. A bit reserved, seems to have a rather dark past and wont talk about it under any circumstances. The others assume he has a history with abuse or something of the like. Lies constantly by force of habit but usually corrects himself. Since he's one of the younger kiddos, he tends to wander off easily and gets hurt a lot. Would probably never forgive/hold a grudge against Patton if he were to raise his voice at him, but its notnlike Patton would do that anyways. Logan does this however, as he has a bit of a temper, but he has to be extra careful around Deceit; getting yelled at terrifies Deceit and he hates loud noises. Something that comforts him a lot is the color yellow and things such as yellow flowers, especially sunflowers.

Dr Picani: The scientist that started the first drafts of Project H(for Health), now deceased. Was well known for his work on Project H, and once it failed he was to blame and many people wanted him dead.

Remy: Probaby a zombie that just chills at starbucks somewhere/a human that's almost like Tallahassee from Zombieland, excpet instead of twinkies its starbucks coffee. Hasnt met the main 5, but he might appear in the story once or twice.

Remus: [adult; exact age unknown] A weird zombie with a mustache that likes to follow the main 5 around for no apparent reason but rarely does any harm. A bit of a prankster. Finds paint cans and such things to draw inappropriate things on buildings and such, but other than risking the innocence of the younger kiddos in the group who stumble upon the artworks, he is rather harmless.

PROJECT H[ealth]- A project started by Dr. Emilie Picani to increase health benefits of the human race to 100%. It is revealed in his final notes that the project began experimenting on humans rather than insects or animals. The last few pages are ripped out and Picani was dropped from the project for reasons his coworkers were told to be his unwillingness to participate in the growing danger and questional morality of the project, and the fact that he was attempting to shutdown the project for such reasons.

[baronessblixen]

Hello! I'm sorry if you already did this - but how about some smut involving early mulder and scully playing truth or dare, never have I ever, etc?

Guys, this is one of my oldest prompts. If the original prompter reads and remembers this: hi. I’m sorry it’s not really smutty. Today’s @txf-prompt-box advent calendar word is: snowstorm. Also tagging @today-in-fic

Never Have I Ever

"Hey Scully, wanna play agame?" In other circumstances, this situation might be consideredromantic. But not for Mulder and Scully, certified partners and friends. They'retrapped here in this shabby hotel room with no TV, no radio or any form ofentertainment. The old radiator rumbles, providing the only background noise.All they have here is each other.

"What kind of game?"Anykind, Mulder thinks. He's known Scully for a year and this is the second timethey're in the same room scantily clad. Well, she is. Her clothes are dryingall over the place. Her skirt is joined by her stockings on a chair, her bra ishanging off the radiator winking at Mulder. Both their shoes are standingthere, drops of snow still falling off. The snowstorm surprised them a coupleof hours ago on their way to the airport. Rather it surprised him. Scullywarned him about it before they even got into their rental car. He didn'tlisten. The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight. Now he knows that he shouldhave listened. When the first few flurries danced on the windshield, he merelychuckled. That didn't last long. It's a wonder Scully isn't angry for him aftermaking her walk through inches and inches of snow.

"How about… Never Have IEver?" He grins at her, not for a moment believing she would even considerplaying the game. But out of her Scully clothes, in full Dana mood, she is adifferent woman. He's only just learning that. She tucks a strand of wet, curlyhair behind her ear and smiles. Unlike her, she's showered. They were warnedthat there might not be enough warm water for two showers. There was noquestion who would use it.

"Sure, why not? I haven'tplayed that since college." She grabs a twinkie from their pile of dinner.They plundered the vending machine, the only source of food in this place. Withthe snowstorm raging outside there is no way they can go anywhere. They'relucky they made it here at all. Their only losses Scully's clothes; they neverhad a chance.

"We don‘t have anyalcohol."

"We can play withwater."

"You're so boring,Scully." She shrugs.

"We can just sit here insilence and not play."

"Fine, we'll play withwater."

The room is equipped with twobeds, a fact Mulder tries not to be disappointed about. Scully sits Indianstyle on hers, as if this were a school trip. Clad in her robe she bears noresemblance to Agent Scully. It only occurs to him that maybe playing thisjuvenile game is not the best idea. But he's not about to call it off either.

"You go first,"Scully says, licking her lips. There's a crumb stuck on her lips still andMulder can't help staring at it. Most days he doesn't allow himself to think ofScully as anything but his partner. It's as dangerous a road as the one theytraveled today, blankets of snow making the journey a difficult one. Theyweathered that storm. This, he fears, is a different one. The tip of her tonguecatches the lone crumb and she smiles at him as if she was doing this onpurpose. Mulder hands Scully one of the yellow plastic cups he's filled withwater. He doesn't shy away from this dangerous road either.

"Never have I ever liedabout my age."

"And you call me boring,Mulder." Scully takes a sip from her cup. "Never have I ever said thewrong name during sex." Scully grins at him and he swallows hard, grippinghis cup. He doesn't drink. Scully chuckles, mouthing another 'boring'. Here hethought he had the upper hand. Another thing he's beginning to understand: whenit comes to him and Scully, he never has the upper hand.

"Never have I ever made outwith a co-worker." Scully drinks, her eyes firmly set on Mulder. This gamewas a bad idea.

"I told you about JackWillis." She shrugs and he nods. "Have you ever wanted to make outwith a co-worker, Mulder?"

"That's not a never haveI ever question, Scully." He grins, thinking he's dodged the question. Hismouth feels dry; Scully is so much better at this game and he fears he's nevergoing to get a sip of his water.

"Never have I ever fantasizedabout my work partner." Oh yeah, she is definitely way better at this thanhe could ever be. He holds his cup up in fake victory before he takes a sip.

"I lied." He watchesas Scully puts her mouth to the cup, taking a big sip. "Let‘s play adifferent game."

"Which one?"

"Truth or Dare."

"Is that a good idea?"Scully changes her position and her robe gapes open, not revealing much, butenough to spark his imagination. Maybe he should go outside, take a dive in thecold, wet snow. He could do with a cooling off.

"Truth or dare,Mulder?"

"Truth."

“Am I the work partner you'vefantasized about?" He considers lying. They're stuck here in this room,snow piling up outside; they're the only two people. The lights flicker everyonce in a while; who knows how long they'll have power. He doesn't have anypower left himself. If the storm continues, the radiator might malfunction,leaving them without heat. That they must create, together. Right now Muldercan't imagine being cold. He eyes Scully with her pink cheeks, her make-up freeface and freckles. He should lie. He should. And yet…

"Yes." He downs thelast of his water, wishing it was something much, much stronger. "Truth ordare, Scully?"

"I‘m going with truth,too."

"Are you wearing any underwearunder your robe?"

"Hmmm, no." She'shiding her smile behind the cup. Mulder licks his lips, trying to keep his eyesabove that very tempting v right over her breasts. Her naked breasts. She isnaked under this thin layer of cotton. "I had to take it off. It waswet." Mulder just nods, looking away. "Truth, Mulder? Or dare?"

"Tr- truth." He'snot sure he's going to survive a dare.

"Would you like me toprove to you that I'm not wearing underwear?" He has to look at her, hejust has to. The robe is still closed, mostly. A few shadows hint at what's hiddenunderneath.

"Scully…"

"Answer the question,please."

"Yes," he mumblesit, almost hoping she won't hear. No such look. She chuckles; a low, deep soundhe's never heard before. He doesn't dare question it.

"It's your turn,"she reminds him when he remains quiet.

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare." He doesn'tallow himself to look anywhere but her face. He knows what he's going to askher to do. His heart is pounding. He wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. Theyfeel much tighter than they did mere minutes ago.

"Open your robe."His request hangs between them for a moment and all they have to do is reachout and take it. It's Scully's decision. She might call him a pervert, call himan asshole or… he lifts his eyes and she's waiting. As soon as she is aware ofhim watching, she loosens the belt and the fabric pools away from her body. Herbreasts come into focus and Mulder gasps. He lets his eyes wander lower andlower and lower.

"Truth or dare,Mulder?" Her voice is luscious, a caress. His sex throbs, dictating hisnext move.

"Dare." The wordfalls from his mouth easily. As if this wasn't sealing their future. Whateverhappens next, tomorrow when the snow melts, when they go back home to theirreal lives, he doesn't have regrets. Not a single one.

"Touch me," Scullysays and Mulder doesn't hesitate. He is on her in seconds, their mouths hotagainst each other. Their tongues stroke and tease, just getting to know eachother in this new, intimate way. Scully moans into his mouth as his hands slipunder her robe, removing it. He cups her breasts and is fascinated by howperfectly they fit into his hands.

"Get… naked… Mulder,"Scully groans into his mouth, against his lips and he obeys. With her help,they get his shirt off. He forgets to breathe as Scully's hands roam over hischest.

"Breathe, Mulder. You‘llneed your breath." She winks at him, kisses his lips quickly, as her handsnestle at his pants. She looks into his eyes as her hand wanders inside hisboxers, freeing his weeping penis. She's gently stroking him and he fears he'slosing his mind, what's left of his sanity.

"Scully." It's aprayer, a question, a declaration. "Never have I ever," her handstills, one of her eyebrows shooting up, "made love to my partner whilecaught in a snowstorm."

"Next time you play thisgame," Scully says, cupping his balls, "you'll have to drink if that onecomes up."

[ecotone99]

[SF] They Came From The Moon

Note: I don't care about the real-life details of the real event that's being reported on right now. This is my inspired take on it. Enjoy.

​

It all started when we went back to the moon. And now here I am, about to die. There’s not too many of us left, I don’t think. At this point, they’ve pretty well exterminated us. And they won’t stop until they get every last one of us. I’m certain of that. I’m surrounded now, and I’m not going to get away. There’s nothing I can do.

These damn things are indestructible. You can shoot them, stab them, bomb them, nuke them. And they just keep coming. The most indestructible creatures known to man. And to think they started out microscopic and insignificant.

Fucking tardigrades. Water bears. Moss piglets. Monsters.

Of course, it’s our own fault. These things were perfectly content, blissfully unaware, non-sentient little bugs who never hurt anything or anyone. Fine tuned over bazillions of years of evolution, the little bastards were perfectly adapted to, well, everywhere. Water, frozen and boiling, volcanoes, tropical rainforests, you name it. People say only cockroaches and twinkies would survive world-wide nuclear holocaust, but so would tardigrades. These things can live in the vaccuum of space for jebus’ sake.

At some point we decided it was a fan-fucking-tastic idea to shoot them off to the moon to “see what would happen.” Humans. Balls, we’re stupid sometimes. Not that our smartest minds could have foreseen the events that would happen to transpire a few decades later. At that time, it was no big deal. The tardigrades were dehydrated and cryo-frozen in epoxy, and sandwiched between plates of nickel. And then these plates - no larger than a DVD - were blasted off to the moon, where an Israeli ship crashed into the lunar surface. Oops.

Oh, and also sandwiched between those plates of nickel? Human DNA.

Human DNA and tardigrades. Together. Forever. Why you ask? Fuck knows.

And now here we are, a couple decades later, facing certain extinction. I don’t know if anyone knows how they became what they are - indestructible, slimy, 12 foot tall, sentient (REALLY fucking sentient) tardigrades. I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. Although now that I think of it, there very well may no longer be any human scientists around. So maybe I’m the closest thing to a scientist now. Maybe I’m the smartest human left on this monsterbug-infested planet. And I’m surrounded by them. Not so smart, I’m thinking.

What we do know is that a little over seven years after that initial tardigrade-dump on the moon, we went back for them. We always intended to of course. Scientists wanted to see how the lunar environment - weaker gravity, temperatures nearing absolute zero, the bombardment of radiation (so, SO much radiation) - would affect the biology and chemistry of those little shits, and apparently that of human DNA.

So these discs came back to Earth. A fully automated combination lander/rover/rocket blasted off from Kennedy Space Station in August, 2026. Space X’s latest and greatest at that time. It gently reverse-thrusted it’s way to the lunar surface 42 hours later. The rover unfolded itself from the lander rocket, set its 12 treaded wheels on the dusty, grey ground, and embarked on its mission. It took a little while, but eventually it made its way to a series of craters that upon first glance looked empty. But half buried and scattered throughout the two largest craters, were four DVD sized discs that the rover came for. Nothing else survived. No debris from the crash, no additional components. It was designed that way in case of a crash. You know, don’t contaminate alien worlds and all. Just the discs. Almost as if it was intended that way.

With the discs rounded up and safely stored away, the rover made its way back to the lander - now lunar rocket - and mechanically secured itself into a specially designed niche on the side of the ship. And off it went, right back to whence it came.

So they came back. Seemingly no different than when they blasted off the first time. NASA and Israeli scientists initially reported that the cryo-frozen tardigrades appeared to sustain very little, if any damage, and that they were still blissfully alivedead in their cozy little petri dishes. Re-hydrated, they went right back to their unassuming tardigrade ways, sucking nutrients from mosses and lichens through their face-holes and floating around lazily in saline solution. That’s the last I had heard back in the day, and hadn’t thought anything of it until the mushroom clouds appeared.

That was about two years ago, I’d say. I haven’t kept track. Maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less. It’s either late 2039 or early 2040 now. Winter. Only there’s no snow, there hasn’t been since last winter when nuclear fallout toasted most things and dried it to a crisp.

Those blasts killed most things. Not a whole lot of us survived. Not a whole lot of anything survived. But a few of us did. Cockroaches, and some people who had the wherewithal to shield themselves in time. And a few of us who can only chalk it up to dumb luck. I was out fishing when it started. Deep, deep in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. Considering packing it in for the day, fish-less, when I noticed the sky darkening and grey-green smoke rising between two peaks in the distance. Forest fire was the first thing that came to mind. Until the smoke quickly took a form that is unmistakable. As the mushroom-cap billowed upwards, I turned and ran. Had it not been for old crazy ass mountain man Liam, I’m sure I would have radiation puked myself to death within days or weeks.

That guy was a riot. And I mean, a machine gun totin’, bear trap loadin’, full blown lunatic of a man. The guy turned his small peaceful cabin and surrounding lands in the middle of nowhere into Fort Fucking Knox. That’s what he called it. Only he wasn’t guarding gold (maybe he was?), he was guarding himself. From them lib’ral snowflake soshulists comin’ for his guns. And his rights, he tells ya what.

So by a strange cascade of events that I don’t have time for here - mostly me runstumbling through the brush - I found my way to Liam’s bunker. More like, he found me. At gun point. The man, staring at me down the barrel of a Kalashnikov; greasy, stringy white hair flowing from under a disgusting old red trucker cap with worn once-white lettering on the front. I couldn’t make the words out, but it looked familiar from a time long ago. I thought I could vaguely make out the phrase “...GREAT AGAIN.” After much deliberation I was successfully able to convince him that indeed I was NOT one of them soshulist motherfuckers. I told him our govmint turned on us and were nukin’ us goddammit. I had no idea what was going on, I had to tell him something.

Liam’s place - Fort Fucking Knox - happened to come equipped with a state of the art nuclear fallout bunker. Of course it did. One of those they sold in mail order catalogs back in the 1950s. Better than duck-n-cover. So we holed up for a while. We ate a shit load of baked beans. Luckily, Liam preferred to keep to hisself and for the most part, that’s what he did. We listened to the chatter on his shortwave receivers, which is how we came to understand - mostly - what was happening. Liam didn’t keep TeeVee, or internet, or satellite. Just his goddamn CB radios. Probably a good thing, because I’m pretty sure these things would have found us sooner if he wasn’t so goddamn paranoid. They were smart. Very smart.

Not a whole lot more to report, honestly. Some time has passed, and Liam dies from some shit. No idea what. One day he just wouldn’t wake up. For the best though, I was gonna kill him soon if he hadn’t. I couldn’t take any more of his conspiracy theories, or his baked beans.

Over time the chatter on the CB radios went quiet. They were all getting found. I even listened to a couple good ol’ boys broadcast their own terrifyingly gruesome deaths. The Water Bears found them. It didn’t take long, they found them all.

Now, the bunker is surrounded. I have guns - Liam’s guns - and I have explosives. I have actual hand grenades. I’ve been out of the bunker a bit these last couple weeks, I don’t think the radiation is too bad, I’m only puking once every couple days or so. I’ve taken guns out looking for things to shoot. No animals anywhere, no birds chirping, not even a cricket.

And that’s how I fucked up. You see, I was out looking for anything to eat besides baked beans, when I rounded a group of huge boulders. And I saw it. That thing. It was huge, at least as big as the largest boulder I was standing next to. At first it didn’t know I was there, and it was preoccupied with something I couldn’t see. Then it froze. And much quicker than it had any right to, based on its fleshy marshmallow man contours, it half-twisted around to face me. It’s alien face - is it a face? - staring directly at me. The bung that is it’s mouth/face-hole slowly puckering in anticipation.

We stood there frozen for many milliseconds. Then I acted, pulling Liam’s only AR-15 around and semi-automatically squeezing off as many rounds into its pudgy rice pudding torso as I could. More rounds. I was on my ass on the ground now, the assault rifle having knocked me over. But I kept shooting. It folded in, like a roley-poley and collapsed face-down. I could see brown green goo dripping from the exit wounds on its reverse side. Thankfully, no one came and took away Liam’s guns.

Then they slowly, but surely, closed up. The wounds. They healed right before my eyes, and the thing started to tremble and move. I took off. As fast as my aging knees would let me, I stumbled back through the wild, crashing through the steel barbed front gate of Fort Fucking Knox. I didn’t stop until I was down in the bunker, locked from the inside.

That was two days ago - I think. Not like I’ve slept, and I’ve stopped looking at the clock. I’m not even sure what time or day it was when I got back to the bunker after shooting that thing. I knew, of course, that they were indestructible. I heard as much from the handhelds. Guns, bombs, nukes. Apparently, we (the govmint) retaliated by shooting nukes at Canada. This after the bugs already nuked Canada and most of the rest of the world. Wasn’t much left of ‘Mercia then either. But we still had our nukes.

They wanted to see if we could nuke those bastards. Because perhaps our nukes were better than those Russian nukes that already gave their college-try. Apparently not. Or if the nukes did get ‘em, more just came in their place.

Fucking machetes. One good ol’ boy hacked one up with a machete. Then as he was proudly broadcasting his victory on channel 13.5, the thing got him.

And now, here I am. Surrounded. I know I am, because I’m watching them on the closed circuit monitors. I’m going to die. Not sure if today, or tomorrow, or when, but I’m going to die. At least I’m in the bunker. I’m certain they can’t get in here. Reinforced concrete and steel. Underground. So I’ll just watch them, LEARN them. For my own edu-ma-fuckin-cation. I’ll eat these beans, though I’m only seeing about half a dozen more cans. I’ll drink whatever water is left, also not much. And then I’ll die. Either I’ll starve or die of thirst, or maybe I’ll rig up this whole damn place and blast myself and them to kingdom come. Or just myself. I turned around and puked into an old stainless steel turkey fryer.

I guess we’ll just see what happens. You know, it’s a bit ironic, don’tcha think? For decades now people have been freaking out over the climate changing. Me too. Now I’m in a bunker in the middle of a wasteland. And we didn’t even do THAT shit. People have been freaking out over viruses - these “super bugs”. The flu is goddamn scary these days, for sure. People die from that. At least, they did. Super bugs. Ain’t that some shit. I’m looking at the real Super Bugs right now, in all their closed-circuit, black and white, low resolution glory.

Fucking Tardigrades. Tardigrades from the fucking moon. And yes, we did that shit.

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[survivingart]

HOW TO INCREASE THE VALUE AND PRICE OF AN ART WORK

As tastes in art are incredibly subjective, the value of any particular piece can seem like it has been decided upon on a whim. But while this may even be true for many a piece of art being sold today, there are many factors that can be defined and influence the value and as such, the price of our art.

The main factor is obviously politics; when the first mega-agent Joseph Duveen was at the height of his career, selling European art to wealthy American collectors, the mere fact that a piece was sold by Duveen himself made it more valuable — they even called such work a “Duveen”.

If a work of art has been in the possession of any wealthy or powerful individual, or was talked about fondly by any acclaimed art critic, its price tends to increase quite a lot. But as politics are convoluted enough to be an art form by themselves — prices of works can go up even if a horrible critique was published and it’s incredibly hard to have any influence on the market without a strong network of powerful people— I would like to focus more on the factors that are absolutely under control.

The big one is quality; the mere material quality of our art and the aesthetic quality that we can deliver. As we are now talking about the non-fine art market, where beauty and other aesthetic experiences actually do count (a lot), having work that creates a captivating experience is extremely important.

But I don’t believe we necessarily need to make our art look good, because even under normal, every-day circumstances, people are guided by subjective tendencies when acquiring art. What is important is to know exactly what and who our products are for.

There are roughly 9 emotional states, through which people make buying decision: 1) instant gratification 2) fear and/or guilt, 3) trust, 4) belonging, 5) external validation, 6) helping others, 7) competition, 8) status and 9) purpose.

Obviously instant gratification doesn’t quite fall into the artistic product category, as we make art not Twinkies, and fear is more a playground for insurance companies than artists. Unless your next Facebook ad will be titled: “Empty wall space causes cancer and impotency, researchers find” I think no art should ever be sold or produced to incite fear or guilt for that matter. That’s just not what it’s for anymore.

Trust on the other hand is extremely important, because if your collectors can’t trust you (especially if you have no representation to act as the intermediary), it’s close to impossible to ever get more than one sale across, and as such impossible to have a real career — long-term supporters and collectors are invaluable, because the longest part of any business relationship is building trust; sales and figures really don’t matter as much.

If we come to a place where we have the trust of a few people, the main goal is to actually have our art aligned with their wants; some like to belong to a greater cause, a big group. You could provide the best environment for all of your fans and collectors to really connect with each other and provide a strong link between all of them, like a special club that brings value to its members.

Some need external validation, be it in the form of an object or art piece or via a human being that they care for. You could aim at finding a personal narrative that speaks to such a need and create art about it (obviously anything we do should also be inline with our own perspectives); provide an experience for people who need something to help them express their abilities and value to others by providing them with something that can help them get such a message across.

The same goes for helping others; we could focus on making incredibly positive art, that could be used as a gift to cheer someone up or lighten-up someones home, or we could really focus and produce art around memento mori, and aim only at those that feel that bittersweet love for martyrdom or understand pain as a positive reinforcer of character.

We can focus on competition and status and create art that feels and looks like a brand new Ferrari, but is more in-tune with people who like to hang the embodied extensions of their privates on their walls.

And then, there is purpose. The highest and truest (in my opinion at least) function of art. We can make our work express purpose, we can make it radiate the sublime and stand as a pillar that holds open the crevice connecting this world with the world of pure aspiration and fulfilment.

As we move up the reasons for purchasing art, we also should move up in value and consequently in price. The reality is beauty is cheap and easy to find nowadays, but purpose — people would give everything if they could really find their purpose in life.

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[gunnersalley]

Confronting Evil in Our Time

That’s right, I said it. The “E” word. Evil. A concept that is not talked about enough these days, even in many of our nation’s churches.  The concept of evil, or an actual belief in it, began to be replaced in the 1960s by sociological theories that sought to explain evil (or cover for it). Theories about socioeconomic condition, and biology and eating too many Twinkies began to replace the age-old belief that there are people out there who are evil. Even those who were eventually judged by most people as evil — those who committed acts that were unexplainable by sociological excuses — were described as people like you and me “who just did a bad thing.” Ted Bundy described himself that way right before his execution. Ever hear that one applied to kids these days? It’s standard operating procedure by the left: “Billy, you weren’t bad … you just did a bad thing.” That takes all the responsibility away from Billy, as apparently his actions occurred in a vacuum, and he bears no responsibility for it or control over it.  What does all this have to do with you?  It has everything to do with you. You have chosen to protect yourself and your family by carrying a firearm and/or other defensive devices for emergency use. But have you thought about what you might be confronting someday: a person who is truly evil?  A person imbued with evil is a person who has no remorse for anything he or she does. Here are just a couple of examples of evil in action. In Charleston, West Virginia, on July 24, a suspect set a woman ablaze with gasoline while she was sleeping on a porch, causing terrible injuries. Police are still searching for the suspect, who had no known connection to the victim. Or check out the  New York Daily News  piece from June 29 about Frank Yeager of Bucks County, PA, convicted of “hunting realtors” for the purpose of raping them. Yeager personifies evil. Make sure you take a look at his picture. These are just two examples of many recent news stories that define what I am talking about.  I had my first encounter with someone who was evil in about 1980. I was working as the jail paramedic at the Licking County Sheriff’s Office and was responsible for inmate care in the jail. I had been working with both felony and misdemeanor inmates and got along with them just fine. Back then, we had no real hardcore criminal element in the county to speak of. Most of the inmates had done stupid things, sometimes repeatedly, but the ones I had encountered were not evil. (I’m not saying I went out for beers or anything with them after they got released. I’m just saying that none of them were evil.) I hadn’t even encountered evil while working the road as a reserve deputy sheriff at the time.  One of my main responsibilities as jail paramedic was to do an initial health screening — mainly for communicable diseases — for all new inmates entering the jail population. These were normally not a big deal, as it meant time away from a jail cell for the arrivals and they were willing to comply. One day, I encountered an inmate who stood out from all the rest — John Glenn Roe.  Roe was in on a charge of burglarizing a small gun shop in one of the villages in the county. I began the questioning in the usual manner but noticed something immediately different about the guy. Roe never did or said anything threatening to me. He answered all of my questions. But I could  feel  something different about him that I had not felt about the other burglars housed in the facility. I realized I was, for the first time, feeling the presence of evil.  I told students in my women’s self-defense classes after that time that I knew that John Glenn Roe would someday kill someone. I knew it without a doubt. And I was frustrated that there was nothing I could do about it. I certainly couldn’t go to a judge and say, “Hey your honor, can you lock this guy up for life? You see, I believe he is evil and will eventually kill someone.” That would have been met with skepticism at the very least.  Roe was sentenced to 3 to 5 years in prison, as I recall, and got out in 2½. Soon after he got out, he and a friend of his, whose name I don’t remember, kidnapped a young wife and mother — Donette Crawford — when she stopped at a carryout late at night after work for milk. They kidnapped her from the parking lot and brutally raped her. At some point, they strangled her and shot and killed her. They then dumped her body at the old trash burning power plant in Columbus. I believe both of them got life in prison. Ms. Crawford met evil that night and, sadly, in those pre-concealed-carry-permit days, wasn’t prepared for it.  I guess what I am trying to say is that while you, the concealed carry permit holder or home defender, are a good person, there are others who are totally the opposite — without mercy, humanity or compassion. They are evil. Whether they are carrying out a terrorist attack against people in Boston running a marathon on a beautiful day or confronting you in your home or on the street, these are people whose purpose in life begins with hurting the innocent; that’s their main objective, not a secondary outcome.  You have to be prepared for encountering evil. It will come as a shock when you encounter it and feel what I’m talking about. There is a definite presence that is radiated, and you have to be ready to react to it and not be frozen by it, or you will not survive.  I experienced another brush with evil at the jail during an encounter with a temporary inmate named George Burton. Burton was in our facility from the state prison for additional court hearings. Burton was in prison for life. Several years prior to my encounter with him, he had shot a 14-year-old girl who was working at a small family ice cream shop in the head with a shotgun. Burton did it because he felt she had not filled his milkshake cup full enough. He was bad enough that he was kept segregated from all the other inmates in a solitary basement cell. I felt evil radiating from him when I administered his medications.  37 years ago, there weren’t as many of these individuals out there as I believe there are today, and those manifesting evil seem to come at ever younger ages, and their acts are beyond the pale. Don’t deny it exists. Just be ready for your encounter with evil and be ready to react. Your life and those of your family and friends depend on it.  The post  Confronting Evil in Our Time  appeared first on  USCCA-Concealed Carry Self Defense Insurance & CCW Info .

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