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siremasterlawrence · 4 years

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Fan project requested and co-written by pleasentreviewbystarfish

Ryan Alexander Taylor is a well-known, and coveted CEO of a popular online services company. The company has been doing very well, and received a lot of interest from investors. Ryan has been looking to further grow the company by buying a new startup specialized in virtual reality. Ryan travels to meet the management of the company to discuss a deal. Ryan’s car arrives a half hour earlier than scheduled - very precise, good, I like someone who knows how to conduct themselves appropriately, but soon, real soon, he will learn to appreciate my way.

Ryan exits his car observing the location in disgust – the building appears to look like a run-down office building which has not really been maintained. The area appears secluded, and somewhat vandalized. There are lots of graffiti on walls and there are no shops in the area. He says “What a dumpster area this is, I cannot even believe that I am here, this is no place to do business dealings. I am not impressed at all by this disaster area, and yet here I am, somewhat intrigued.” He enters the building and is welcome by a secretary, who brings him to the visitor room to wait while her boss arrives. She brings him a drink while he waits before leaving. Ryan drank the drink, not suspecting that the drink was spiked.

The door suddenly locks and the light goes off. Ryan is in the room alone, in the dark, with only his face being lit up with light. Suddenly a voice can be heard coming from the speakers:“Welcome Mr. Taylor! We are so pleased to have you with us today! It is a great honor for us to have you, and we are very excited at the range of opportunities for us to work with you, or should I say… to work on you”.

Another voice – this time somewhat familiar – says:“Oh, don’t worry, we will take this nice and slow, so that we can enjoy every minute of this. We also do want to make sure you get everything that we will be cramming down your brain.”

Before Ryan can figure out what happens, the light comes back on but some static noise can be heard, causing a buzzing sensation within Ryan. The room is fading away before Ryan’s eyes leaving only a white appearance boxing him in. Ryan begins to shout for help, trying to cover his ears but the buzzing goes on.

After a while the buzzing stops. Before Ryan can sigh in relief, a voice can be heard:“Before you leave us, I would really like you to meet the man who has paid a huge sum of money to acquire you as his new slave. I believe you have already met – Jake Templeton!”

Ryan is confused. “Jake Templeton? Wait, he is the employee that I fired last year for stealing company property and for trying to sell company information to our competitors? What do you think you are doing?”

“Hello Mr. Taylor, or should I say Ryan since you are no longer my boss. I am flattered that a busy man, like you, remembers my name, but you will soon learn to appreciate me for who I am! Can you blame me for trying to make some money? I came up with a concept of immersive virtual experience 3 years ago, and you canned it because the prototype development would cost $500,000, and you said it was not ‘cost-effective’! So yeah, I tried to sell my research to competitors, and you fired me! Now I will show you what my concept, properly funded, can do. Yes, I found someone willing to take a risk and invest the money to build it and found some nice practical applications to it!”

Some colors start to flash in the room and a buzzing sound can be heard.“Now I want you to listen to my voice.... feel yourself going deeper... listen to my voice... only I can make you feel this good... you like listening to my voice... imagine yourself on stairs...I want you to walk slowly down those stairs...as you take each step, you will get more relaxed and obey my voice...you want to obey my voice because it makes you feel so good...that’s it, continue going down the stairs...feel your body floating...there is no pain, only pleasure...relaxing...pleasure...my voice brings you that....relaxing...pleasure...

I would not worry about my words at the moment, focus on the sound of fire buzzing through the room, how it is in tune with the colors in the room. Notice the colorful change of sequences on all four walls. Your eyes are getting more and more tired, the drink you took when you came in took care of that. Just relax, your eyes can’t focus on anything else except the sound of my voice, your memories slowly draining away and disappearing, and the world before you is brand new”.

The lights continue flashing and the buzzing continues for another hour or so.A young man, in his late twenties, watches the events from the safety of his private laboratory as a camera was filming everything happening in the room.“Time to see the efforts of my fruit and labor!” He says flipping a switch on his console that makes a door suddenly appear in the solid white room where Ryan is. The door slides up to the ceiling as he walks into the room, in awe of his own genius.

“Now, I hate to toot my own horn, but ta-da! And bravo!” He claps at himself as he stands face to face with the former business titan. Ryan is standing motionless.The young man cups his chin turning side to inspect him. The drool is very apparent dripping all over his face. The young man says “Pathetic! Look at you now – once a Harvard Business graduate, now covered in your own drool.”

He lets go of Ryan’s face, pondering what else this man has accomplished in life. Ivy League education, successful business ventures, award-winning and well regarded in the business world, but now nothing but a statue. A toy, to be used. Coming back to his sense, he begins smacking the man in the face knowing there is no longer any response going to come. Ryan just stands still returning back to the position after his feet lose balance.

He proceeds to grope Ryan’s private parts and give him a spanking, but Ryan still stays motionless. He inserts his hand within Ryan’s shirt and begins to move his hand, brushing his hand across Ryan’s torso to get a good feeling and smiles as he is satisfied with touching Ryan.

The young man removes his hand as he hears someone approaching, then laughs in a mocking tone at the sight of a shadowy figure descending down the stair case. The young man says “It’s about time you arrive to pay and pick up the main man of your dreams.”

Jake appears and says “Well, despite everything that happened and me losing my job because of him, I do find he looks dreamy, so yeah, he is the man of my dreams”.The young guy says “Well, I am usually more into muscular and bodybuilders, but I do find him very handsome. I like the boyish looks. I was not expecting much but he is actually in good shape. An excellent choice for a slave. I would certainly do him. Would you mind sharing him with me?”

Jake laughs and agrees “Sure, you were very helpful so I can lend him to you for an afternoon. What do you want to do?”The young man says “well, the more I look at him, the more I find him hot… Would love fucking his straight ass.”Jake responds “Don’t we all” and proceeds to kiss Ryan passionately while Ryan still staying immobile.

Jake then hands the young man a white envelope with a generous payment. The young man says asks “so what will you do with him now?”

Jake responds “Ah, I have waited a long time for this moment! He will be my obedient slave and serve me, cook for me, clean my house, and when he is not serving me, maybe he can be my footstool or a nice statue in my bedroom. Let’s see? Basically, anything that is humiliating to a straight guy, so of course he is going to get fucked a lot.”

The young man then says “Sweet. Ok, just a reminder. This is still an experimental device and there are lots that we have not tested out yet. You should use the brainwave device on Mr. Taylor maybe once every 24 hours to ensure that he does not wake up or even begin to get back some memories. It is unlikely but you just never know.”

Jake chuckles, “Could be fun if he does wake up actually, realizing how much he has been used, and then bringing him down again just as he tries to escape.”The young man responds “Yeah but be careful” before walking away.

Jake proceeds to grab Ryan by the tie and places Ryan on a cart leaving him like a statue standing in normal position. He is then carted out to the car, Jake rummages through his pockets looking for his keys, and he opens his car trunk. He plops Ryan into it, locking Ryan in the car boot as he goes to the driver’s seat and begin driving off elsewhere.

“Enjoy the tunes, Mr. Taylor, or whoever is left inside that mushed up head of yours.” He taunts through the speakers one last time.He turns the dial on the radio activating the car trunk’s brainwashing station. The back of the trunk has speakers out blasting white noise, and Ryan is motionless the last of his iron will is gone. The noise produced is a quickly changing binaural sound which breaks Ryan’s mind and leaves it blank.

Once they arrived at the destination, Jake opens the car trunk and brings Ryan inside.Unaware of his location or even who he used to be, Ryan’s body lay on the wall, asleep. Jake presses a button on the oddly small remote the man gave him as he left the facility. The remote lights up, blaring a multitude of colors like a kaleidoscope of colors. He points it at Ryan’s head. A red beam is aimed directly at his head, the light then turns green, and a voice can be heard.

“Initiating, initiating, initiating, ... processing.” “Activation code please.” Jake then realizes that the voice is actually Ryan’s voice. Jake smiles, licking his lips. He answers “Ryan Taylor Is A Bot”, awaiting the acceptance, Ryan says “Accepted” and then Ryan’s eyes pop open.

“I am Ryan Taylor the Bot, human-cyborg slave and I am here to serve you. What is your name?”Jake laughs. “I’m Jake Templeton, but you can call me Jake.”Ryan’s expression never changed as he replied in a dull, empty tone: “Yes Master Jake, I am ready to serve you. Please put me through my paces,” responds Ryan.

“Who am I?” asks Jake“My Master,” replies Ryan.”And what are you?” asks Jake”I am your slave, Master,” came as a reply.“Yes, you are my slave. You exist to serve and obey me. I own you. Your mind and body are my property. You have no thoughts because you are a slave. Slaves are mindless. Slaves just obey. You are my slave. You obey me. You must obey your Master. Obeying and pleasing your Master is your only purpose. You love your Master. I am your Master and I own you.”

“Yes, Master Jake, I understand” came as a reply.“Tell me the truth of your purpose, slave,” he now ordered.Ryan responds “I live to obey and serve you, Master,” he began. “I am your sex-slave. My body belongs to you. I exist to pleasure you. Your pleasure is my only desire, my Master.”“You just can’t make this stuff up even if you tried… Very good, my slave, now kneel and lick my feet, slave.”

While Ryan is licking his feet, Jake was thinking what to do next. What should Ryan wear? Maybe continue wearing a suit as my butler? Or maybe wear nothing but a tight speedo? Or a jockstrap? Maybe make Ryan get some tattoos? That could work. Like the word ‘bot’ on his chest? Or ‘maybe ‘slave’? No, that would not look nice on Ryan. Maybe a tattoo on his arm instead? Like a tribal tattoo? Or Chinese characters on his arm, like "bad boy" in Chinese?

Suddenly Ryan’s phone starts to ring and Jake takes it from Ryan’s pocket.“Well, well, looks like your girlfriend is trying to phone you. She is no longer of concern to you. I will send her a text message later telling her you are breaking up with her and are no longer interested in her. Now, on the left of this room there is a table with three pre prepared paperwork. Sign each giving me everything you have, and then I will finish the process.”

“Yes, Master Jake, I understand” came as a reply.“From now on, Ryan, you will seek to please me at all times and exist only for me. You are a robot who will live like any pet would. My robot human dog hybrid.” Jake smiles as the drool is descending from Ryan’s mouth.Jake adds “Let’s go to my room now where you will strip for me and then I will fuck you”.

The end.

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

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When You Love Someone - Part Four /// Eros

pairing(s): Park Jaehyung x Reader, Day6 x Reader

genre: High School!AU, Young Love!AU, pretty much all Angst this one is

warning(s): None

word count: 2,7k

synopsis: There are many paths in life, but the longest of all is the path to the heart. In your eyes, what does it truly mean… to love?…

chapter directory

In the entire four years of your friendship, you and Sungjin have only had one meaningful fight that led to eventual disaster. It was right after winter break of junior year at the high school’s annual Winter Formal event. To be honest, you can’t remember the true details since the entire night was merely a blur of fake snowflakes and mediocre music—all except it was the first time you’ve ever seen Sungjin lose his temper.

From what you can remember, you had been dancing with Jae—both of you agreed to remain friends after your breakup—when Nayeon and her entourage ended up spilling their cups of punch on your mother’s old homecoming gown, a dress that her own mother had given to her in the past. It was an accident, until Nayeon laughed and said you could pass for a tramp on the side of the road. You blacked out with rage after that, so the rest is a little fuzzy, but the last thing you remember is Sungjin dragging you outside the party and angrily chastising you for causing a scene—it's also important to note that this was where you first learned the two were dating. Anyway, still blinded by your temper, you ended up saying some pretty nasty things about not only the cheerleader, but your friend as well. And he, the same to you.

Long story short, the two of you avoided each other like the plague for almost a month. However, you were the one who caved first and waited almost an hour on his doorstep to apologize to him in tears. It’s something neither of you have talked about since then, being mutually agreed that it’s definitely not one of the best moments in your friendships, nor have you really thought about it much. Until now.

After your screw-up, you tried to call Sungjin the next day as well as the day after. You tried to call once in the morning, twice in the evening and once before bed—knowing that he’s probably up late studying or working on some last minute college stuff; Sungjin’s always been an overachiever like that. You also tried to catch him at school, but no matter how early you arrive to his classrooms or how late you stand outside the building, his face never comes into view. It’s as if he has vanished from your life with as little as no trace to find him.

It’s ironic… cause you miss him more than ever.

You watch the soccer team battle against one another, likely practicing for an upcoming game. The sight of a dozen students in bright, neon uniforms chasing after a black and white ball was boring, but mind-numbing. Not enough to completely distract your brain from the ache in your chest, but enough to at least calm your thoughts. Your eyes twitch when you spy one of your own friends, Jihyo deliver a kick that lands the ball in the opposite goal. Shouts and cheers emerge across the field—you meant to call out your own praise, but you couldn’t find the voice. You couldn’t find a lot of things lately.

“Since when do you watch soccer?” Your gaze snaps to the side at the familiar demand of your best friend. Wonpil carefully climbs his way down the bleachers to where you’re currently sat, lowering next to you with a sigh of exhaustion, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

You shrug still not meeting the newcomer’s eyes, “I needed some air.”

“Long day?”

“I guess.” Wonpil huffs at your reply, but makes no attempt to scold you for your indifference. Instead, he also turns his attention to the active players, eyes darting back and forth as the ball rolls about the field. You find yourself suffocating in the awkward silence—completely aware that Wonpil wanted to say something more—and turn to face the boy with a glare. He catches your gaze with an expression of surprise.

“What?”

“If you want to say something, Pil, then just say it.”

His face goes blank. “It’s not my place to say anything, noona.”

“You say that every time-” You chuckle, the sound laced with sarcasm. “-can never have an opinion, can you?” Once the words leave your lips, guilt immediately spreads through your body. Your eyes flutter shut with another sigh, “Sorry… that wasn’t fair.”

Wonpil shrugs, “I’ll let it slide. I know you’re having a hard time, right now.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Pil.” You confess, carding a hand through your wind-blown hair. “He won’t talk to me, much less see me.”

“You hurt him,” Wonpil says. “Can you blame him?”

“Of course not. I just don’t know how to fix it.” You bury your face in your hands, “I mean… what if he never forgives me?”

“You’re so blind, noona. Both you and Sungjin.”

“What?”

“After all these years and you still haven’t noticed,” He shakes his head with an impatient sigh.

Your eyebrows furrow, “Haven’t noticed what? What are you talking about, Pil?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Sungjin is in love with you,” Wonpil answers, “and you’re obviously in love with him.”

The first feeling that enters your chest is the incredulity that your best friend would even consider saying something like that, but when you open your mouth to retort and defend, you find your own throat dry with speechlessness. It’s not like you’ve ever not thought about what it would be like to date Sungjin—hell, every person has thought about what it would be like to be romantically involved with their best friend at least once in their life—but you’d never let it go farther than that… right?

You think back to the most golden of moments you’ve shared with the boy, analyzing each one in closed-detailed context: He listens when no one else will. He accepts all of you, the worst of your flaws included. He always has your back even in the most inopportune of situations… But aren’t these all things that best friends do for each other—with some extra benefits in between? Like the skinship and nicknames… or the fact that your heart beats a million times faster whenever you hear his voice… or maybe that you never feel truly complete until he’s around...

Your stomach aches at the realization—because you know better than to lie to yourself and certainly not your own heart.

“...Why did he never say anything?” You murmur finally, already physically and psychologically exhausted from the thoughts bouncing through your mind. With tears welling in your eyes, you meet the gaze of your other best friend. “I mean… after Jae and I broke up, I thought he would at least-”

“-He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than you already were, noona.” Wonpil moves a hand to your knee, sympathetically squeezing the flesh. “That’s why him and Nayeon started dating… so he could get over you…”

“But I just-I still don’t understand… Why stay away all those months?”

Wonpil sighs, “He was afraid that he would ruin what little time you have left together before graduation—so I told him he needed to figure out what he really wanted before it was too late.”

“You…?” You whisper, “All those times you tried to get me to talk to him… so he could-”

“-so he could see how much he needs you, or at least, you could realize.” He chuckles sarcastically, “Like I said though, the both of you are just so freaking blind.”

You shake your head, still drowning in disbelief, “...What do I do?”

“That depends… Do you love him?”

“I-I… I think so.”

“No, noona.” Wonpil’s gaze is stern, almost as if he were scolding a small child. “Do you love him?” You shiver beneath the intensity, but gradually relax as more and more intrusive thoughts settle themselves within your mind. Soon only one remained:

“I do.”

Wonpil smiles, “Do you want to be with him?”

A smile of your own forms for the first time in the past few days. “Yes, I do.”

“Then go.”

“What?”

“Honestly, noona-” Your companion delivers a hefty shove to your shoulder and points back toward the school, “-you’re killing me here! Go get your man!”

Your eyes widen, “Right now? But he won’t talk to me-”

“-Just go!” A surprised gasp escapes your lips when you realize your and Pil’s conversation had attracted the audience of the soccer players. You almost laugh at their invested expressions, but decide not to test just how far their and your best friend’s patience goes. Instead you take off across the field and back toward the building with your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You can only hope Sungjin will be willing to listen one final time.

“I just can’t believe Mr. Nichkhun won’t allow me to write a song in place of a story for our project.” Wonpil explains as the two of you watch Kang Younghyun shove his way through a bunch of giggling sophomore girls. He continues to sail his way through the crowded hallway, passing the two of you without so much as a second glance. You hold back a laugh as Wonpil visibly shivers and continue to pilfer through your locker even as he drags on about the teachers of the school are limiting student expression.

“Don’t give up just yet, Pil,” You say, switching out your trigonometry materials for your sociology ones. “If you prove to Mr. Nichkhun that you really want to do that, I’m sure he’ll change his mind.”

“I can’t help it.” Your companion sighs, “I really don’t want to have to write a fairy tale.”

“Then why on earth did you take creative writing?”

“It seemed like an easy A at the time.”

You shrug while rearranging your art supplies, “That’s why you shouldn’t always go for the easy way out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your laugh at the boy’s defensive tone, but the sound gradually dwindles when you peer past his shoulder. Barely a couple feet ahead was Sungjin, deep in conversation with some other students you recognized from the student body, and at his side was none other than Nayeon, the head cheerleader herself.

Wonpil, startled by your sudden mood change, looks over his own shoulder. His features soften as he observes the sight as well, turning back to you with a sympathetic expression. You avoid his likely apologetic eyes and continue to search for a pencil, even though you already have two tucked away in your notebook.

“You know-” He pauses for a moment as if arranging his words, but quickly resumes, “-The dance was weeks ago, noona… You should go talk to him.”

“And say what? I think Nayeon’s the most self-centered, dramatic, privileged brat that I ever met and have no idea what he sees in her?” You slam your locker door with a huff before turning to face your companion, your tone a bit more softer than before. “I can’t talk to him, Pil. Not after everything we said to each other.”

“I’m sure Sungjin is missing you just as much as you miss him, and if you just tell him how you feel-”

“-He could care less about how I think they’re incompatible. He made that very clear.”

“Are you sure that’s the real reason why you don’t think they should be together?” You freeze at Wonpil’s question, nearly sending your books crashing to the floor. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you glance back—unaware of the panic in your eyes.

You shake your head, “What other reason would there be?”

He stares back, his expression completely blank. “I don’t know. Just wondering.”

You take his statement for what it is, feeling relief when Jae appears from somewhere amongst the crowds. You bid your best friend a final farewell before slipping your arm through your other friend’s and dragging him down the corridor toward your next class. When you pass Sungjin, you make sure to laugh a little louder at Jae’s joke.

—As if it would distract you from the slight ache radiating from your chest.

You managed to track Sungjin down in the hallway, having just caught him leaving a National Honor Society meeting in the library—memorizing his after school activities schedule does have an ounce of worth. Upon your arrival, the boy obviously notices your presence and attempts to duck behind his other club members in order to escape.

“Wait, please! Sungjin!” Dashing around the group of students, you stop Sungjin just as he reaches the threshold of the front doors. Once again, the boy tries to maneuver around you to slip out the exit, but you block the doorway before he can pass. “Will you please just talk to me?”

“Move, (Y/N). Please.”

“Not until we talk.” He moves to push past you again, and this time you go for his wrist. “Sungjin, please...”

At your whine, Sunjin stills. A brief moment of silence encompasses the atmosphere before it’s interrupted by his murmur, “What, (Y/N)?”

“About the other night,” You begin, “I’m so, so sorry-”

“-You’re sorry? That’s what you came to say?”

You frantically shake your head, “Well n-no, but I needed you to know that.”

Sungjin stares at you for a moment, his eyes filled with something that you couldn’t read. His gaze sends tremors to your knees, but you stand your ground, your conversation with Wonpil echoing in your head like a motivational symphony. However, anxiety floods your system as an expression of frustration emerges over the boy’s face. His sigh of exhaustion sends more shivers through your body.

Sungjin’s head rocks back and forth, “I can’t keep doing this with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“This.” He says softly, “I’m always there for you, (Y/N), whenever you need me.” His eyes finally lift from the floor to meet your gaze and you find your heart shattering at the absolute pain present within the chocolate irises, “but the one time I need you, you’re not there.”

His statement has tears welling beneath your lids, guilt and dread blossoming in your chest like a poisonous flower. You step closer to your companion, moving your hands to his elbows. He continues to hold your eyes even as salty droplets begin to spill from his own.

“I know I messed up-” Your voice cracks. You take a moment to compose yourself, to stop the tears from escaping, before continuing, “-but if you just let me explain and let me fix this...”

“Enough damage has already been done, (Y/N).” Sungjin pulls away from your grip, leaving your arms to helplessly fall to your sides. You can’t bear to watch as he heads toward the door, instead keeping your eyes on the linoleum floors. You don’t bother to hold back the tears this time, allowing them to flow down your cheeks like rivers of fire. However in the very corner of your vision, you notice his figure pause just beyond the door. For a moment, you had hope—until his cracked comment met your ears:

“Some things are just best left broken..” He smiles sadly, “I hope you find whatever it is you want, sweetheart.” You watch Sungjin exit the school, his silhouette fading with each step he takes into the blinding sunlight—and you’re left with nothing but another round of fresh tears and a heart broken to pieces.

“(Y/N)-noona!” You quickly dry your tears as Wonpil appears from the opposite end of the hallway, a red-faced and gasping Jae not too far behind him. You meet them halfway, somehow finding the strength to move your legs, and the bright grin across your best friend’s face immediately falters when he takes notice of your tear-stained cheeks.

“It’s like I told you, Pil. He won’t talk to me.”

“Then we’ve got some work to do.” Your companion grabs your wrist and pulls you forward with Jae following not too far behind, leading you toward the exit where Sungjin disappeared only moments before. “You’ll need that prom dress first.”

“I already told you, Pil.” You say, comfortably adjusting your limb in his grasp. “I can’t afford the dress, especially after I quit from the store-”

“-We bought the dress for you, (Y/N).” Shock invades your body like an electric current at Jae’s amused reply. He bumps his shoulder against yours before sending you a mischievous smile:

“-but you owe us, and not only for the dress—but for finally setting you up with the guy you’ve been madly in love with for nearly all of high school.”

#day6 #day6 x reader #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 au #park sungjin #park sungjin x reader #park jaehyung #park jaehyung x reader #kang younghyun #kang younghyun x reader #kim wonpil #kim wonpil x reader #yoon dowoon #yoon dowoon x reader #kpop au #kpop fanfic

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teaandatale · 5 years

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Steggy Week Day 7 (Sunday): Free choice

My Theme: Previews & Support

1. Previews: Okay, work has been brutal, the muse hasn’t been kind to me, so I didn’t finish the couple other works I thought I would for Steggy Week. Instead, I’m going to share previews of 5 fics I’ve been working on (new and old), as a amuse bouche of an end to Steggy Week.

2. Support: Then for the rest of today, I will be checking out all the Steggy goodness created this past week and commenting about how brilliant this fandom is, as much as possible, because I know just how much feedback feeds the muse.

If anyone doesn’t have anything finished for today, might I suggest you tease us with your own preview of Steggyness to come :D

Previews of fics in the works below the cut.

1. Untitled Agent Carter S2 AU

Summary: Steve is found in 1947, while Peggy’s still in Los Angeles.

“Howard what is going on?”

“We’re almost there. I’ll tell you then.”

He’s in some sort of mood, and acting shifty. She eyes him suspiciously as they follow along through several turns into alleys and side streets. She knows the destination three blocks from the building and the second she realizes, Peggy grabs Howard by the collar of his shirt.

“Easy pal!”

“What the hell are we going there for Howard?”

His eyes shift from hers in a rush, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“It seemed like the right place,” he mutters under his breath and then ignores her demanding expression and continues walking.

She’d never avoided this street, but for all her time in New York since the end of the war, she’d never ended up back here.

“You found him,” she whispers like a prayer.

And for Howard to keep this information from her… It was cruel.

“How could you not say anything? How could you not tell me? Me! Of all people Stark!”

“That’s exactly why I had to figure out exactly what it is I found Peggy!”

“And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!”

He bites his lip and then heads to the glass where the observation looked over a transformation of Steve Rogers once upon a time.

“Carter…” Phillips trails off in a soft voice she’s only heard a handful of times in her time with him. “There’s a bit more.”

Howard pulls the screen away from the glass revealing not an abandoned lab, but a whole slew of people and machinery working below them.

“He’s not dead Peg.”

She’s gone insane. She’s finally gone insane. She’d wondered if it would come. If all the incredible disasters in her life would lead her to a complete loss of reality. And it’s finally happened.

“He’s alive. Steve Rogers is alive,” Phillips confirms.

“We’ve been trying to wake him. But he’s been frozen so long it’s causing some problems. He’s thoroughly thawed out, so we’re not really sure what the trouble is. There’s not a lot of experience I have to work with here. But I’ll figure it out. I know I will.”

She is no longer interested in anything further that Howard Stark has to say.

Peggy flies out of the observation room, wrenching the way to the stairs open, even as medics and attendants swing their heads away from the body laying in the cot to her stomping on the steps.

2. Play Like a Girl

Summary: Peggy recently moved to Brooklyn where she happens to run into Brooklyn’s golden boy Steve Rogers on more occasions than she cares for. Her first real interaction with Steve, a recently retired MLB shortstop, leaves much to be desired. And yet somehow she finds herself helping him coach a girls’ baseball team for the summer.

A baseball lands with a loud smack against her hardwood floors. Winston lifts his head, looks at her briefly with a tilt of his head before he runs off to chase after the rolling baseball.

Peggy stands staring dumbfounded at her broken window, the faint sound of screeches coming from outside. After a few moments, she finally comes to her senses, outrage pouring out of her as she starts to stomp towards her front door to chase down the culprit. The second she pulls her front door open, her doorbell sounds simultaneously, and there he is standing in front oh her, Mr. Hometown Hero himself.

Steve Rogers stands with a sheepish expression. Of course its him. Recently retired Dodgers’ shortstop, the hometown rookie of the year that led the Mets to the World Series during his second season in the major leagues, the attractive dog walker she’d been running into at the park directly across the street from her house.

“Oh,” is the first thing he says, his eyes widening a bit. “Hi again.”

He fiddles with his stupid backwards cap and she wants to rip it off his head.

“Hi again? That’s all you have to say to me after hurling a baseball through my window?!”

Winston decides this is the time to come bounding in with the stupid baseball in question. He drops it at their feet, more interesting at sniffing at Steve. He bounds up, front paws on Steve’s legs who immediately drops down to scratch at his ears.

“Winston no! Down!”

Winston withdraws, albeit reluctantly, looking back at her with that head tilt of confusion. She refuses to let her dog fraternize with this jerk of a jock.

“Great job today ladies,” Steve calls out. “Now all of you have a wonderful weekend. Be kind. Have lots of fun. And rest up for more on Monday.”

“Bye Coach Steve! Bye Peggy!” They shout as they give the dogs last pats.

“It’s coming along,” she notes. “And they’re having fun.”

Steve nods. “They’re definitely more focused than I had expected. But then again they are much more mature than I was at their age.”

“Or now,” she jokes. She regrets it for a moment, realizing that they’re not really friendly enough for that kind of teasing comment.

But Steve, to her surprise, snorts out a surprised chuckle.

“Well you’re probably right about that,” he agrees with easily. “Hey, thank you again for the snacks and breaks. Obviously they need more of that.”

She bites her lip but then it comes out of her anyway.

“I work from home a couple times during the week. So I’m free a few mornings,” she says. “I could perhaps lend a hand on those mornings.”

She watches his face brighten but the smile is cautious.

“You’re always more than welcome, you’ve made this even more fun,” he starts, rocking back on his heels, “but I’m sure you’re very busy. So no pressure. Really.”

“I am busy,” she agrees, “but hell if I’m not already invested in seeing these girls grown as a team.”

She thought she’d seen the extent of his happy expression, but the look on her face now transcends even his earlier joy with Rodger. It’s blindingly pure and she swears she feels butterflies kicking through her with a force she cannot reckon.

Shit…

Oh shit indeed.

3. Of Gold & Something More – Chapter 2 Dreams That You Dare to Dream

Summary: Peggy’s family moves to New York when she’s young. While she’s able to keep up her ballet lessons with the transcontinental move, it’s when her brother starts playing hockey that she gets interest in ice skating. There at the local rink, she meets her first (and only) skating partner.

Michael takes her hand and helps her with her skates. “How was your lesson?”

“Wonderful!” she sighs. “I didn’t fall once. I bet I’m the best one in the class.”

He snorts. “It’s your third lesson Peg. Don’t go dreaming about the Olympics just yet.”

“Why not?” She plants her hands at her hips. “I can do whatever I want to Michael. Even the Olympics.”

He laughs and she pouts at him. “Alright you win darling. Now come on I’m starving.”

Peggy turns back over her shoulder to watch the skaters still on the ice. She watches two boys, one with blond hair, the other with brown chasing each other up and down the middle, gliding with perfect ease. One day she was going to be able to skate so fast it would feel like flying. One of these days.

“Lessons are on the other end, Peggy,” the boy named Bucky he says with so wide a grin it makes her a little warm inside.

“Lessons are boring,” she shoots back. “I can already skate backwards. And I already know how to balance you know since I’m a ballerina.”

His friend stays quiet behind Bucky, smoothing kicked up ice off his pants. She tilted her head at him. She wondered if he was shy. He didn’t seem shy when he was tearing up the ice with Bucky or some of the other hockey boys. But then she thinks back to the boys’ lessons she watched him skate during. The other boys would goof off between exercises, but he seemed to stay focused and quiet.

“Hear that Steve? She’s a ballerina.” The blond boy named Steve nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. She notices that his cheeks are a little pink but she doesn’t know why. “I don’t know about ballet, but I can dance a little too you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh! I started ice dance lessons with my cousin a couple of months ago.”

“Ice dance?” Her eyes grow wide and the bubbly feeling comes back. “You can dance on the ice? Show me!”

He laughs but it doesn’t make her bristle. He doesn’t seem to be making fun of her. She thinks.

“I can’t right now. I don’t have a partner.”

“I’ll be your partner.”

He gives her his signature grin but shakes his head. “Sorry Peggy you’re too little to be my partner. You and Steve could be partners, he’s not that much taller than you.” She sees Steve turns red and kicks at the ice with his left skate.

4. ‘S Wonderful ‘S Marvelous – Untitled Sequel #1

Summary: Steve and Peggy make good on their promise to keep in touch and see each other in person before the end of the year.

“I don’t snore!”

Steve hums. “Maybe snore is the wrong word. It’s sort of a mix of a soft snore and a snuffle,” he tells her, his voice gone so soft and tender she feels something tighten in her stomach. “It’s cute. It made it feel like you were right here next to me for a moment.”

Peggy turns onto her back staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, her free hand running across her bedsheets as if her body’s automatically searching for his.

“I wish I was,” she whispers back.

“Soon,” he promises in his whisper. “Time for you to go to sleep for real Peggy.”

She grunts out her disapproval. “No I’m awake.”

He chuckles. “It’s late. We’ve been on the phone for hours.”

She glances over at her alarm clock, her eyes widening at the single digits. Hours indeed.

“Time has a strange sense of humor then because I swear I just called you.”

“And yet time also makes it feel like I haven’t seen in you in months when it was just six days ago.”

I don’t remember having this before… Just talking. Wanting to share more and more the longer we talk.”

He hums in response. “It feels special.”

“It is special.”

He lets out a long exhale. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too. It’s soon. Soon. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

He laughs again. “You got that right. Bedtime Peggy.”

She hums sleepily. “Good night Steve. I’ll see you soon.”

“Sleep well Peggy.” His voice is a lullaby and though her whole body aches with missing him, she turns over with a smile and falls back to sleep.

Her stomach flutters with butterflies as the train starts to slow into the station. Peggy pulls out her phone and rereads the text she received just a few minutes ago.

Waiting at the station. I can’t wait to see you.

She reads it one more time, stomach filling with anticipation. Had it really only been just over three weeks since she’d last seen Steve? It felt like months. And that hunger she had been feeling was finally going to be satisfied. She feels her body buzzing as she collects her luggage and sets off for the platform with the rest of the passengers making their way to their destinations. The station’s lights are a bright glow against the dark winter evening. She’s aware of the chill biting at her exposed skin but she can only think about who she is meeting.

Once through the station’s lobby, with the parking lot in plain view, there she sees Steve leaning against his truck, his eyes already on her, his face breaking out in such a warm smile that it touches her even from the hundred feet still between them. As soon as the path is clear in front of her, Peggy races towards him.

5. Layer on Layer – Chapter 16 Epilogue Part 1

Summary: The one-year anniversary of meeting Peggy looms near. But anniversary celebrations are put on hold when the whole world goes to shit.

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

He looks up and sees Angie.

“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

Steve blushed further. “It’s hot but I wanted the breeze and the sunlight filtering in so I turned the air conditioning off.”

“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day. You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

“You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?” She grins. “Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

Steve hummed, checking his phone.

“Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”

Something didn’t feel right to Steve. She hadn’t responded in that many hours? She always sent him responses if short ones within an hour or so, even at her busiest.

#steggyweek2k19 #steggy #my wip's #fanfic #there's a lot i have written but nothing's finished #woe is me and all that

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lfthinkerwrites · 5 years

Text

The Flight of Icarus

Title: Tales from Gotham Academy: Field Trip

Rating: T for more mayhem

Summary: Another ride, another misadventure. Mockridge has a come to Jesus moment with a 'business partner.'

Meanwhile, in the office of Daniel Mockridge

"They did what to the boat ride!?"

Cleo Droukas, Mockridge's assistant for the past three years, watched as her boss' face lost its smug smile and turned pale. She tried not to let on how much it amused her. "One of the teachers rammed his boat against another boat, which in turn rammed into a third boat, causing a collision against the embankment. None of the students are injured-"

"Forget the students!" Mockridge shouted. "What about the boats!?"

Cleo frowned. "The third boat was tipped over, but otherwise undamaged. The first and second boats, however, sustained damage during the collisions. They'll need to be repaired."

"And just how much is that gonna cost me!?" Mockridge yelled, running a hand through his hair. "This park's already in the red! Between operating costs and the settlements from that food poisoning case last year, I'm in the hole for $5 million! Which I could have handled, no problem, if Riddle of the Minotaur 2 hadn't bombed!" Mockridge moved his hand from his hair onto his desk, smearing paperwork with the greasy hair product. "I don't get it. Riddle of the Minotaur put Competitron on the map. It broke sales records. How did the second game do so badly? We marketed the shit out of it!"

Perhaps you shouldn't have fired and blacklisted the original game's creator, Cleo wanted to say. Instead, she waited until Mockridge had finished his whining before she continued. "The teacher who rammed the boats, Mr. Basil Karlo, has been removed from the park premises."

"They called the cops on the son of a bitch?"

"They did, but he was taken away in an ambulance. The other teachers administered their own 'justice' on him."

Mockridge's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. "I always knew Nashton was a fruitcake, but what the Hell is wrong with these people?"

Cleo had heard the rumors about how badly the students and teachers behaved at the Raging Rapids Water Park the previous year. She'd tried to warn Mockridge, but he'd been too set on sticking it to Edward Nashton to listen. Now they had to all deal with the consequences. "Principal Gordon is currently speaking with park security, while the teachers and students are continuing their trip."

Mockridge looked slightly amazed. "After the boat ride, they want to stay in the park?"

Cleo shrugged. "Apparently, this isn't anywhere near the worst thing that's ever happened to them on a school trip." Which, if true, was the most disturbing thing she'd heard all day.

An oily smile returned to Mockridge's face. "We may just be able to salvage this day yet! What about Wayne? Is he still happy?"

It took everything Cleo had not to smirk. "He was in the boat that was overturned."

Mockridge's face paled again. "God damn it! He's already pissed at me for that crack I made about his girlfriend! I was hoping to convince him to invest in Competitron!"

That was looking about as likely Mockridge himself admitting that Edward Nashton was the reason Competitron had been as viable as it was. Before she could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. "Yes?" Cleo called.

Mockride's secretary poked his head in. "Sir? Mr. Sionis is on Line One."

All the remaining color drained from Mockridge's face. "Oh shit. Tell him I'm in a meeting!"

The secretary shuffled. "He's being very insistent sir. He threatened to staple my lips shut if I didn't put him on the phone with you."

Mockridge sank in his chair. "Oh, Christ...fine. Put him through." As soon as the door shut, Mockridge pushed a button on his phone. After how badly Riddle of the Minotaur 2 had sold, Mockridge had needed to seek external funding to keep Competitron's losses manageable. Unfortunately, Mockridge had about as much sense in seeking out loans as he was in keeping talent, and he'd wound up in the debt of Roman Sionis, industrial magnate and rumored mobster. "Roman!" Mockridge said jovially. "I was just about to call you! How have you been?"

"Sure you were," Sionis spoke, his voice rumbling over the speakerphone. Oh good. He was pissed. "I checked my account this morning and lo and behold, I didn't see your monthly contribution. Where's my money, Mockridge?"

Cleo watched Mockridge gulp and somehow kept the satisfaction off her face. "Ah well...It's going to be a bit late this month, Roman. I had other obligations to take care of." Said other obligations included child support, gambling debts, payouts to several young ladies under his employ, and a new yacht.

Cleo could just make out the sound of a sharp intake of breath. Then Sionis spoke again. "Perhaps my last request was too mired in subtlety. I want my money, or you're dead. When I say dead, I mean dead. Beaten, broken, YOUR HEAD MOUNTED ON MY WALL KIND OF DEAD!!!"

Mockridge began to sweat, babble excuses and Cleo took that as her cue to leave. She shut the door behind her and finally let out the small laugh she'd been holding in. Then her thoughts turned to the Gotham Academy group. Hopefully, the boat ride would be the extent of their shenanigans for the day.

"We're going to the Library of Alexandria and that's final!"

"Like Hell, we are, Nashton! The kids want rides, we're going on rides!"

"Right, Harv, because the last time we were on a ride, it worked out so well! We're going to a place with books!"

"You can go to a place with books if you want Nashton, I'll take the kids to the rides."

"You're not going anywhere with my little girl without me!"

Jonathan and Jervis looked on at their friend and co-worker's argument and then gave each other a long-suffering look. After seeing Karlo off, Gordon, Wayne, Neil, Miguel, and Victor had been quick to split off into different sections of the park, leaving the four of them in the main hub to argue over which way to go. "We could just leave them, you know," Jonathan whispered to Jervis.

Jervis shook his head. "No we can't, March Hare. You know as well as I do that Harvey will kill Dormouse if left unsupervised."

Jonathan looked back to Harvey and Edward. Harvey's hands were balled up into fists and his face was turning magenta. "Harv looks ready to strangle him now." The students themselves watched the argument with the kind of indifference that came from witnessing this happen several times. Not even Ellen and Duela seemed that concerned.

"Which is why we need to intervene," Jervis insisted. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Now see here chaps-"

"If you don't get out of my face in the next two seconds Nashton, I'll make sure that Ellen stays your only child!"

Jonathan rolled his eyes, then stepped in to help Jervis corral the two men. "Knock it off the both of you," he scolded. "You're actin' worse than the actual children." Harvey and Edward turned to glare at Jonathan, then back at each other. Edward looked ready to say something smart when Jonathan interrupted. "Harv, don't you have that coin? Just flip on it."

Harvey smirked and pulled said coin out of his pocket. What he and Jonathan knew but Edward didn't, was that the coin was double-sided. "Alright, Nashton. Heads we go to the rides, tails we go to the Library of Alexandria. Agreed?"

Edward crossed his arms. "Fine. Flip it." Harvey did so and caught it with his left hand, flipping it over onto his right palm. When Edward saw the result, he scowled. "Flip it again!"

"For God's sake!" Jonathan shouted. "Edward, stop acting like a damn toddler and come on already!"

Edward sneered and opened his mouth, only for Ellen to interrupt. "I've got Penny in my contacts," she said in a sing-song tone. "And I'm not afraid to call her..." Edward paled, then sighed.

"Fine. Fine. We'll go rot our brains on the rides. But when disaster strikes, I will be the first to say I told you so!"

"Welcome to the Flight of Icarus! Please observe all posted rules. You must be at least 64 inches tall to ride, follow instructions at all times, one adult must be with a group of kids..."

While the ride attendant droned on, Edward, Jonathan, Jervis, and Harvey took in the ride with a growing sense of horror. The Flight of Icarus was a modified swing ride. Only, instead of seats hanging down from the top of the carousel, there were harnesses. The riders would strap themselves in, lie on their stomachs, and put large canvass wings on their arms. The idea was to simulate flight, like the mythological character of Icarus. It looked even more dangerous than the boat ride. When the ride attendant finished his spiel, the four men looked at each other. "So," Jonathan drawled. "Who's going first?"

"Not me," Edward said immediately. "I'm a father."

"So am I," Harvey said gruffly. "And Duela, there is no way in Hell you're riding that thing."

"I don't want to," Duela quickly agreed. "That thing looks like a death trap."

"I kind of want to go on it," Ellen added. Then her face fell. "But I'm too short to ride."

"Good," Edward said.

"I'm too short as well," Jervis said. "So I suppose that leaves you, March Hare."

Jonathan sighed. "Well, I have no fear of death. Might as well." He and the six kids who actually wanted to go on the ride stepped through the gate, and let themselves be strapped in. When Jonathan's wings were placed on him, he heard Edward chuckle from the other side of the gate.

"You're living up to your name now, Jonathan Crane," he smirked. "When you're airborne you'll look positively majestic."

"I will hurt you," Jonathan said crossly. Once the last child was strapped in, the ride attendant stepped back to the control panel and powered the ride on. The carousel's tower rose slowly as the chains began to move and spin the riders around. At first, it was slow, but it quickly picked up speed. The teachers and the students on the ground were colorful blurs to Jonathan as the ride spun him around, faster and faster. Luckily, in addition to feeling no fear, he felt no nausea. Frankly, it was almost fun.

Unfortunately, while the designers of the ride had accounted for height and maximum weight, no one ever thought to consider a minimum weight for the ride. Jonathan was so light and thin in build that he wasn't securely harnessed. On the thirteenth rotation of the carousel, he slipped out of his harness and was vaulted through the air. "Jesus Chriiiiist!" he screamed as he flew 50 feet above the ground.

"March Hare!" Jervis screeched, running after his friend. Edward and Harvey followed in close pursuit, trailed by Ellen, Duela, and a few other kids. The rest stayed put to film the scene, of course.

"Jon!" Edward shouted as Jonathan began to dip down. "Flap your arms! Try to fly!" Jonathan did so, and remarkably, managed to pick himself up. "We should be close to the main hub," Edward mused as the group followed Jonathan, who was now gliding at a steady pace. "Jon! When we get to the plaza, you should be able to glide into the fountain!"

"The fountain!?" Jonathan shouted. "After the boat ride!?"

"Well it's that or you can impale yourself on a tree!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Harvey muttered. "Mockridge has one Hell of a lawsuit coming his way."

The small group followed Jonathan into the plaza, where they caught the attention of not only other parkgoers, who were pointing and gasping at the sight of Jonathan gliding through the air. Unfortunately, they also attracted the attention of Maxie Zeus, who took Jonathan's appearance very differently. "A fury!" he bellowed. "Back, fury! Back to the depths of Tartarus with you!" He gripped onto the base of his lightning bolt, which, while not a real lightning bolt, served very well as a javelin. He threw the bolt at Jonathan and his aim was true, the bolt puncturing one of the canvass wings.

"Son of a biiiiiiitch!" Jonathan screamed as he plummeted to Earth, disappearing in the tree line that surrounded the main entrance to the park.

Jervis collapsed onto his knees. "March Hare! Jonathan! No!" He began to wail and sob.

"Dad?" Duela asked, for once almost shaken. "Is Mr. Crane dead?"

"I'm sure he's not," Harvey comforted her. He gave Edward a short nod. "You and Tetch better go look for Crane. I'll take care of the kids."

Edward didn't look happy at the prospect of leaving his daughter, but he liked the idea of her tagging along to find Jonathan's possible corpse even less. "Alright. Ellen, behave yourself. I'll be back with Uncle Jon in a few minutes." He stepped forward and began dragging a still weeping Jervis towards the tree line. "Come on, Jervis. We have a March Hare to find."

In an hour, he would regret letting his daughter out of his sight.

#tales from gotham academy #high school teacher au #fly jonny fly

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radioleary-blog · 6 years

Text

They Blinded Me Without Science

It was another crazy week in what feels like the fifth year of the Trump administration, and I’m just trying to keep up with the insanity. You know, people told me after the election, “Look at the bright side, with Trump in the White House, the comedy will just write itself!” I wish that were the case. I’m finding out that the comedy does not just write itself. That would be really cool if it did, I could just get on stage and read from the newspaper and look like a latter day, fatter-day Mort Sahl, or I could just cut and paste from the Washington Post and send my column in, then get back to arguing with my cat. But no, I actually have to write the comedy myself.

President Donnie Darko turned the crazy up to eleven this week. This week’s politics was crazier than a shoeshine in a shitstorm. This week was crazier than a Klansman at a White Sale. This week was crazier than a Nickelback fan club.

Trump declared war on Nordstrom for dropping his daughter Ivanka’s clothing line, which caused their company stock price to rise overnight. See, people? He’s making the economy better already! Maybe if he attacks a few more American businesses, he might just make this place great again after all. And isn’t he the guy who said he was going to bring businesses back to America? So why attack companies that didn’t leave the country? Maybe he wants to chase them out first, so he can then bring them back. I have no idea. And such a shame for Ivanka, her fall ‘Back to Parochial School’ collection reflects the sense of Oscar De la Renta, and the non-sense of Betsy DeVos. And her summer swimwear ‘Beach Clothes for the Beach Closed!’ collection is made of coal and oil stain-resistant fabrics, since now the coal companies can legally pollute the rivers again and the Dakota Access Pipeline is being built. No matter what sludge you swim in, you’ll get out looking dapper. And DAPL.

Trump tweeted on Wednesday: “My daughter Ivanka has been treated so unfairly by @Nordstrom. She is a great person -- always pushing me to do the right thing! Terrible!” Trump was so upset, he was barely able to get back to work and deport the mother of two American children that same day. Yep, Mr. President, it sure is unfair and terrible when a family member gets kicked out of someplace. Alas, I’m afraid we are living in a land without irony.

What else. Oh yes, Trump referred to a federal judge as a “so-called judge.” Always a good move. I know a guy who called a judge a “so-called judge” once, and I’ll see him again in 3-5 years. And that was just in traffic court. Trump was angry that the judge ruled against him over his travel ban, and his executive order will not be followed. Man, this world has changed. When I was young, the only travel ban we followed was the Grateful Dead. Preferably in a 1983 VW bus covered with bumper stickers of dancing bears and lightning-bolt skulls. Ah, youth!

So Trump appealed the ruling, and now a three-judge panel on the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals has ruled unanimously against him as well. Trump accepted the ruling with all the quiet dignity of Charles Manson being denied parole. Trump tweeted: “SEE YOU IN COURT, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE!” First of all, anyone who tweets in all caps is clinically insane. We all know that. That right there should be an impeachable offence, way higher on the list than an adulterous intern blowjob. But to tell a judge “SEE YOU IN COURT”? Is that supposed to sound intimidating? That line only works on all the small-business independent contractors that he has refused to pay for their services. That doesn’t work on judges, they’re already in court. That’s their home, court, and they rule in court. Literally. That’s like trying to intimidate LeBron James by saying “SEE YOU ON THE BASKETBALL COURT!” That’s like telling a Great White Shark “SEE YOU IN THE OCEAN!” They aren’t scared, and you’re gonna need a bigger boat. His reaction reminds me of the Carl Sandburg quote, “If the facts are against you, argue the law. If the law is against you, argue the facts. If the law and the facts are against you, pound the table and yell like hell.” And tweet it, in all caps.

But here’s what I really want to talk about, people are beginning to push back against the Trump agenda. Maybe the Borg and the Daleks were wrong when they said “Resistance is futile!” In cities all across the country, protesters are showing up at town hall meetings, private homes of Senators, and they even blocked Betsy DeVos from entering a public school. She thought she could count on public support, but it turns out she just plain can’t count. The best argument for funding our public schools is the fact that Betsy DeVos is the result of attending private schools. Republicans were on the run, scurrying away from scheduled media events and public appearances as they found crowds of ornery woke people waiting for them. As for me, I’m trying to be woke, but I keep hitting the snooze button. I’m sure I’ll do better when we return to daylight savings time.

At a town hall meeting in Salt Lake City, Utah, that hotbed of liberal activism, GOP Congressman Jason Chaffetz was booed and shouted at continuously by an audience chanting “Do you job!”, demanding he investigate national security adviser Michael Flynn or step aside. Flynn may have violated the Logan Act in his repeated contact with the Russian government. I, for one, was surprised to learn that the Logan act actually has nothing to do with adamantium claws. Hmph. Live and learn. Chaffetz may not believe in global warming, but he was feeling the heat, bigly. Chaffetz was sweating like a Nixon debating in a steamroom. Chaffetz was sweating like a German trying to tell a joke. Chaffetz was sweating like your balls in Bahrain. Chaffetz was sweating like the guy in the red shirt on the original Star Trek. He knows the minute they beam down he’ll be killed by a Horta or the Gorn. That’s why he’s there, because somebody has to die to advance the plot, and it sure as hell can’t be Shatner and Nimoy! But that doesn’t make dying on an alien planet any easier.

Things got really bad for Chaffetz when he faced tough questions from a member of the audience with superior intelligence, a 9 year old girl. She stood up and asked Chaffetz what he would do when it comes to protecting the environment. When he started stammering a non-answer, the girl hit him with a follow up question that left Chaffetz looking for a fire alarm to pull. “Do you believe in science?” she asked. “Because I do!” Boom. Crowd roars. Mic drop. One and done, son. It must be embarrassing to be schooled by someone actually in grade-school.

He couldn’t give a straight answer. All she asked him was if he believed in science. Yet a Congressman in the 21st Century couldn’t answer “Yes.” WTF? I haven’t seen anything this pathetic since a drunk David Hasselhoff ate a cheeseburger off a bathroom floor. Who the hell won’t say they believe in science? The Mujahideen? Snake-Handling Pentecostal Pastors who speak in tongues? The Pope who locked up Galileo? I grew up in an era when people knew knowledge is power, and every single member of Congress would have answered yes to that question in a heartbeat. You would have to go all the way back to 1925 to the Scopes Monkey Trial to find a public official actively and openly dodging science. Sadly, people are so uninformed today they think the Scopes Monkey Trial involved Dr. Zaius and Harambe. Hey, you know what the difference is between Dr. Zaius and Donald Trump? One is a hateful, orange, science-denying orangutan, and the other one has a medical degree.

Every Congressman since before my grandfather was born has believed in science. Especially since science gave us the atom bombs we dropped on Imperial Japan and won the damn war in three days. Ask the Japanese if they believe in science. They know that our atomic detonations awakened Godzilla from his frozen slumber, and Tokyo paid the price for a dozen movies or more. “History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of men. Go go Godzilla.” Then Godzilla went back to sleep for a couple of decades when he stopped selling tickets. Hmm, I wonder if it was radiation from the Fukushima reactor core meltdown that brought Godzilla back to life for the 2015 reboot? Although the movie may have been a bigger disaster than Fukushima. I mean, they had a red-hot Brian Cranston in his first movie since winning three best actor Emmys for the greatest television show ever, ‘Breaking Bad’, and what do they do? They kill him in the first ten minutes of the movie. He went from ‘Breaking Bad’ on television to ‘Making Bad’ movies.

Anyway, after entering the Atomic Age, all our politicians believed in science, because it put us at the top of the food chain. We were running this world for decades after the war, and we blinded them with science. And because our politicians believed in science, they put a lot of funding into science, investing in the space program, bringing in the Space Age, and putting America on the Moon. The only men ever on the Moon. Just us, and science. But now the Republican right has decided to reject facts, and reject science.

You know who does believe in science? Iran. They launched a missile test just two weeks ago, which US officials sharply condemned as "provocative" and "irresponsible." Call it what it is, man, “science.” Not believing in science doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, it won’t go away if you ignore it. Unlike your ex. You can say you don’t believe in trains, but I wouldn’t recommend laying on railroad tracks to test your theory. You know who else believes in science? North Korea. They just fired a ballistic missile over 300 miles into the sea of Japan, while in this country Donald Trump just goes ballistic on Twitter. Do we really live in a world where Kim Jong-un, a wobbling weebil of a dictator with a haircut that looks like a matador’s hat, is more scientific than U.S. Congressmen? Where’s Seth Rogen and James Franco when you need them.

But we know why Jason Chaffetz is running away from science. Because his corporate owners are Climate Change deniers, so he is too, if he wants to get re-elected. In fact, in answer to the girl’s question, he started talking about burning more coal. Clean coal. Clean coal? That’s like saying Clean Aids. That’s like saying Clean Shit. “Nah, I didn’t need to wash my hands, it was Clean Shit. Now let me get start making your dinner.” Then you’ll have Clean Dysentery.

I have the TV on as I write this column, I left it on TMC, half-watching a Fellini movie I didn’t understand a word of, but I like listening to people speak Italian. It makes me feel cultured for some reason. But as I mentioned climate change, I looked up and noticed that the movie had ended and a new movie started. Ice Station Zebra is on right now, where Rock “I swear I’m straight” Hudson races the Russians to a north pole weather station to recover a Soviet spy satellite, with the help of affable idiot Ernest Borgnine, and running back Jim Brown. This was 1968, and they’re walking on foot to the North Pole base, with gunfights, fistfights, and a whole lot of solid ice. That was 1968. Today, they’d be swimming to the North Pole. The only standing they’d be doing at the North Pole now would be on the floating bodies of drowned polar bears. That’s how real climate change is, and the science behind it. But not to Jason Chaffetz. Half his base are greedy corporate bastards who don’t want to stop polluting and risk cutting into their obscene profits, and the other half his base want the world to end so Jesus can come take them all to heaven. Not a lot of incentive for him to embrace reality.

When the crowd chanted at Chaffetz, “Do your job!”, what they don’t realize is he is doing his job, for his real bosses, not for us. He is removing protections for the environment, for workers, for labor unions, basically dismantling society until Americans live a type of unhealthy, impoverished, uninsured existence we haven’t seen since Bob Cratchit’s evil boss had a Christmas nightmare. And you know the ending to a Christmas Carol is bullshit, right? You know that new-found benevolence Scrooge acquired from his visions or visitations or whatever they were wore off pretty quickly in the cold light of day. I bet a week after Christmas, Scrooge was back to his old greedy self, and sent the Cratchits a bill for the turkey he brought them. And he probably sold Tiny Tim to a coal mine, he’s small, and in those tunnels his bad leg doesn’t matter, there’s no room for him to stand up anyway. He probably eliminated Cratchit's job altogether, through downsizing or outsourcing, leaving them destitute. Mrs. Cratchit was probably left with no choice but to walk the cobblestone streets of London as a Victorian prostitute, until she is killed by Jack the Ripper in a gaslit alley.

Hey, speaking of gaslight, anybody remember Gaslight Village? It was a theme park in Lake George village, owned by the same guy who created Frontier Town and Storytown, which is now the Great Escape. Gaslight Village was by far the lamest of the three amusement parks. It was mainly aimed at older adults, who only went because they sold beer and liquor all over the park, so they could put their obnoxious kids on a slow-moving merry go round and toss back a row of boiler makers and maybe this goddamn vacation won’t be a complete waste of time after all. I basically just remember the ads for Gaslight Village, and that barbershop quartet-style jingle. “Gaslight Village, yesterday’s fun today, bo de-oh doe, bo de-oh doe doe doe.”

I went there as a very young kid, it was a 1920’s themed park, so I can’t imagine what ‘yesterday’s fun’ would have been. Not catching tuberculosis? Living through trench warfare on the western front in World War I? That is, if you call surviving trench foot, shell-shock, and mustard gas attacks “living.” You know, I always thought mustard gas sounded delicious. In retrospect, it’s probably a bad idea to name horrible, fatal, chemical nerve-agents after tasty condiments. Thankfully it stopped right there with mustard gas, to my knowledge. I don’t think they ever developed a ketchup virus, or an ebola mayonnaise, or any other killer condiment. Although more than a few people who had the salsa at Chipotle might disagree with me, if they still could. Mustard gas was used on millions of men throughout Germany and France. I wonder, when they fought at Dijon, do you think the mustard gas they used was of a higher quality? Or was it just more expensive? I picture two tanks stopped alongside each other, a man inside one tank asks the other tank, “Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon mustard gas?” But the other tank was German, so they shot him in the face with a Howitzer. Or in Germany, at the battle of Frankfurt, mustard gas sounds like it would be an excellent choice, after all, who doesn't like a frankfurter with mustard? In fact, Italy wanted to get in on the war just so they could get some mustard on Bologna, but the fighting was too far away, so they just went to the store instead.

“It's poetry in motion

And when she turned her eyes to me

As deep as any ocean

As sweet as any harmony

Mm, but she blinded me with science

And failed me in geometry

When she's dancing next to me

"Blinding me with science, science!"

"Science!"

I can hear machinery.”

-Thomas Dolby

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