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dashoftime · 4 years

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Star Trek Disco 1x01 “The Vulcan Hello”

“You can’t set a course without a star.”

Just before this episode debuted on CBS in September 2017, Oprah was interviewing Trump supporters. They were pleased with his performance in office so far. It was like glimpsing into an alternate reality. I wondered, “How can we co-exist in a world with people whose perspectives are so irreconcilable with ours?” Seconds later, the Klingon messiah invaded our screens and snarled in an alien language, “THEY ARE COMING.”

And it was like, oh right! Questions like this are what Star Trek is for.

Even if you don’t watch Star Trek, you’ve probably heard of Klingons. And if you do watch, you’ve gotten comfortable with Klingons: they’re our allies, our friends. But with new make-up designs and costumes, the Klingons of Star Trek: Discovery seem frightening and unfamiliar.

T’Kuvma insists that the Federation’s promise of peace conceals an insidious agenda to eradicate their traditions. Like those Trump supporters, the Klingons now pose not just a political, but an existential challenge: How do we co-exist with what we fear?

“You do understand that being afraid of everything means you learn nothing?”

It’s a big question, and Star Trek uses a TV series, rather than a film, to explore the answer. With a series of movies, you only get two hours every few years. But a TV series affords you more time: more hours and more frequency, which means more opportunities to examine the nuances of a theme or a relationship.

Discovery has a peculiar relationship with time. Before the show debuted, I was thrilled that Star Trek was returning to TV... but cautious about the time period in which it was set. The producers claimed that “10 years before Kirk” was a window where they wouldn’t violate any pre-existing continuity. But they could have simply set Discovery in the 32nd century, after Daniels’ Temporal Cold War, and defined their own mythology.

“Be careful that your assumptions are not being driven by your past.”

Star Trek exists to comment on our world, but lately it has been fixated on its own origins, commenting on itself and reliving its past. At first glance, Discovery seems to fall into the same nostalgia trap. It is simultaneously a prequel, a sequel, a spinoff, and a reboot. I think it probably can be enjoyed as its own story, but it’s constantly aware of its legacy and legends. Each episode remixes or deconstructs familiar images or concepts from previous versions of Star Trek.

The opening credits diagram recognizable parts of Trek lore: ships, phasers, encounter suits, even gestures like the Vulcan salute. As they unravel into the constituent parts (“atom by atom,” as T’Kuvma might say) and co-mingle with other shapes, we see how these big, disparate objects are united by tiny things they share in common.

“I call it a mirror, for I see myself in you.”

That’s how Discovery distinguishes itself from Enterprise and the Kelvin movies. It brings a microscope to the things we take for granted about Star Trek, it considers their purpose and their function, and proposes new ways to use them. By breaking these things down, we can discover what they really mean and how to use them. That’s semiotics in action.

Semiotics is the study of signs and what those signs mean or signify. I love this show, ‘cause Discovery uses semiotics to deconstruct Star Trek, reinterpret its meaning, and launch it beyond its origins. It discovers new content in familiar objects, relationships, and characters. The act of redesigning the Klingons’ appearance, for instance, enables us to reconsider and modernize their history, their faith, their values and their fears. And in doing that work, we discover ourselves in what seemed unfathomably alien.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Much of the semiotic work in “The Vulcan Hello” is based on “Journey to Babel,” a classic Star Trek episode where we meet Spock’s emotionally distant father Sarek. They haven’t spoken in years, apparently because they disagreed over Spock’s illogical choice to join Starfleet Academy instead of the Vulcan Science Academy. In Discovery, we learn that Spock had a foster sister, Michael Burnham.

It may seem strange that Spock and his family never mentioned Michael Burnham before. Yet “Journey to Babel” shows us that Vulcans rarely discuss family matters, even with each other. So the question here isn’t whether Spock could possibly have a foster sister, but rather what emotional complications compelled Spock and Sarek to never mention her? And what do we learn about Sarek (and, by extension, Spock) through this never-before-seen relationship?

“This isn’t about what happened, Sarek. It’s what’s happening now.”

For a post about Discovery, I haven’t spent much time talking about its characters, plot, or aesthetic choices. Next week I plan to talk more about Burnham herself; the staggering trust between her and Captain Georgiou; their condescension toward anxious Saru; and the holocommunicator technology that seems too advanced for the period in which Discovery is set... But for now, it feels proper to define where Discovery is situated within Star Trek.

Roddenberry envisioned a future where humankind had evolved past our flaws. In the 24th century, there will be no internal conflict and we will work together, regardless of our differences. It’s a lovely goal. But when you enshrine a goal for too long, it becomes sacrosanct. Any deviation or misstep incites the ire of its most devout believers. There must be room for error, consideration, and atonement... even if that leniency seems to threaten the values of the goal.

“Your human tongue is not the problem. It is your human heart.”

The final frontier was never outer space. The final frontier is, was, and always has been the space between people. Star Trek, at its best, exhorts us to be bold, to make mistakes, and -- most importantly -- to own those mistakes and learn from them. That’s how we achieve Roddenberry’s utopia. It’s a process, a journey... a trek, if you will.

A special presentation of Star Trek: Discovery season 1 is currently airing in the U.S. on CBS, Thursdays at 10/9. These posts go live the following Monday.

#Star Trek #Star Trek Discovery #Star Trek DSC #Star Trek Disco #The Vulcan Hello #Michael Burnham #Philippa Georgiou #Saru #Sarek #Utopia #gene roddenberry #Klingon

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crusherthedoctor · 5 years

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Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 9: CAPTAIN WHISKER

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a series of mine in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, we’ll be starting a new venture as we discuss the scourge of a faraway dimension's seven seas, and the envy of frozen food mascots everywhere: Captain Whisker.

The Gist: Aboard the Tornado, dynamic duo Sonic and Tails were en route to a mysterious energy signal, in the hopes of uncovering what it could possibly be. They were instead greeted with an actual tornado.

They died.

Credits.

"Ahh! We’re getting sucked in!” “Yeah! Alright! Cool!”

Nah, not really. They washed ashore on Southern Island (presumably not too far from Western Island and Angelern Island), where they met a young girl named Marine, whose ambition quickly proved to eclipse her capabilities a bit too much. Initially, the heroes simply want to return home and have a Winston break, but upon being attacked by a mecha T-Rex, they soon realise someone must be causing trouble around these parts. And Sonic doesn't let evil relax for long.

They soon come face to face with the leader of the nautical-themed robot army they're facing: Captain Whisker. Something about the captain looks... familiar.

“...What’s going on to my right? I can’t see anything on that side.”

As it turns out, Whisker wants the Jeweled Scepter, a vastly powerful tool that is said to harness the Power of the Stars, which in Sonic lingo basically means "Get fucked, Goku." He steals it, but not before he gets ambushed by the dramatic arrival of Blaze the Cat... who fails to stop the theft, and doesn't even land a hit on the guy.

E Rank.

It doesn't take long for Blaze to explain to the confused Sonic and Tails that they're the ones in her world, not the other way around. It's assumed that the power of the Jeweled Scepter was responsible for bringing them here in the first place. Blaze also acknowledges that Marine in fact exists. Together, they continue to take on the robot pirates, all the while Whisker continues to commit some dastardly, whisker-twirling crimes. Like freezing the local vikings.

“It’s one of my most famous abilities, right up there with spinning around the globe to turn back time. I’m also quite good at superweaving.”

With everywhere else in the sea covered on the map, the do-gooders eventually arrive at Whisker's front door, where they trick the captain into giving them the info on how to get in. After a bit of backtracking (and telling Marine to fuck off and stop wasting their time), they make it in and kick some ass in the pirates' Soleanna-looking hideout. They corner the pirate leader, but his second-in-command, Johnny, arrives just in time to even the odds.

“No, Sonic. The emblem on my chest is a coincidence.”

They proceed to have an all-out brawl with frankly amazing music, but Johnny chickens out and runs with his pipe between his hydraulics. Crestfallen, but not willing to yield, Whisker insists that he will deliver the Jeweled Scepter to an unnamed client by hook or by crook, and Sonic and Blaze ain't gonna stop him.

But they do. With a little help from the surprise return of Marine, they take back the Jeweled Scepter, defeat the captain's Ghost Titan mech, and blow his ship to kingdom come. With the pirates taken care of, the royal guards assure Blaze that they'll take better care of the magical device. The princess expresses relief, confident that her loyal subjects can defend their kingdom's treasure and honor.

They can't.

In less time than it takes to complete the Water Temple in Ocarina of Time, the Jeweled Scepter gets itself stolen again, this time by the fallen captain's creator and superior: Dr. Eggman... and Eggman Nega, but whatever. Retreating underground, Eggman proceeds to show off with his newfound power (the ladies love the magma dragon trick), but he is eventually defeated by the combined efforts of Super Sonic and Burning Blaze... with a little help from Marine. Again.

The Jeweled Scepter is reclaimed. Sonic and Tails head home. Eggman gets sued by Michel Ancel.

The Design: Captain Whisker is an Eggman robot. He's Eggman's robot. He was built by Eggman. But you wouldn't know that by looking at him.

The logo doesn't grin. Totally different.

Sarcasm aside, I'm actually a fan of Whisker's design, because it strikes a good balance between comical and badass, which reflects well on his bumbling exterior masking a capable fighter. The skull gauntlets are stylish, and I especially like how one of his eyes lacks an iris, as if to stand-in for his hypothetical eyepatch. For a design that can literally be summed up as "Eggman but if he were a robot pirate", there's a surprising amount of thought put into it.

If only the same could be said for Nega...

(By the way, Johnny has a kickass design as well. The torpedo-for-a-head is a winner.)

The Personality: Whisker doesn't just one-up Nega with his design. He one-ups him in personality too. Sure, he shares some traits with vanilla Eggman. He's loud. He's hammy. He takes his moustache grooming seriously (even though his is made of metal). He doesn't like it when people aren't paying attention to him.

But here's the thing. He's got his own distinctive flavor. Rather than copying Eggman's mannerisms beat for beat like Nega does, Whisker offers a different spin. He trades the megalomaniacal theatrics for a buccaneer swagger. He trades the spotlights and the statues in favor of singing shanties and using words that were probably out-of-date even when they were in-date. He's more of an airhead compared to the brilliant Eggman. And he actually expresses fear, in particular at the thought of his master's ire.

“You wouldn’t know him. Big guy, ‘stache like mine, hates hedgehogs, sounds an awful lot like Mike Pollock...”

Compared to Nega, Whisker simply makes much more of an effort to be his own character. In spite of his physical resemblance, he's not just Eggman #2. And in a world where Eggman #2 is an officially approved thing, I can appreciate that.

The Execution: Captain Whisker isn't your Eggman, or your Chaos, or your Black Doom. He's not the final obstacle. He's here to provide a few hijinks before the real mastermind turns up. In the role that he plays, he plays that role marvellously.

While the Captain sadly lacks much screentime outside of evading the heroes' wrath, he makes up for it with a memorable presence and a barrel of laughs. They could have completely phoned it in here. Why wouldn't they? He looks like a ripoff, and he's ultimately the equivalent of a filler villain anyway. And yet somehow, this decoy antagonist has more life and character put into him than a sizable margin of the "serious" villains in the Sonic universe, including Eggman Nega, Mephiles, and every single Archie recolour you can shake a lawsuit at.

Look, if Blaze absolutely MUST have an arch-enemy, and if said arch-enemy absolutely MUST look like Eggman... why not pick Whisker over Nega? He provides a better contrast with Eggman and with Blaze, and you can even handwave his presence as Eggman's way of keeping tabs on Blaze's world whenever he's too occupied with his own. Surely that would be a little better than having an identical looking guy running around in a different dimension (or the future) for no reason.

Well, until then, I'll keep supporting the good captain. I have to. He might kill me.

"Omae wa mou ye scurvy shindeiru. *hic*"

Crusher Gives Captain Whisker a: Thumbs Up!

#Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite?#Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog #Captain Whisker #Sonic Rush Adventure

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frecklefaceb · 7 years

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Hide and Seek 2: Big Bad Wolf

Genre: Fan Fiction (Jack Reacher AU featuring Charlie) Pairing: Charlie x OFC-Mildred “Millie” Day Warnings: Language, Physical Violence, Verbal, and Death Rating: Mature Theme Disclaimer: This a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line.

Millie struggles to accept her new reality with the cruel stranger, Charlie.

*Again, I appreciate those that have been patiently waiting for this. If you’d like to be added to the tag list for this fic or all of my fics just let me know by shooting me a message, especially if I’ve forgotten to add you because I feel like I've forgotten people. Thank you for following me and/or reading my fics! Love you!

Numb is the only way to describe how I'm feeling. So many emotions are battling for their claim over me as I process the earlier events. A few hours ago, well I assume hours because I've lost track of time surrounded by darkness, my point being is I craved adventure and I guess I should have been more specific about a stranger sweeping me off my feet.

Anxiety is what I feel when I think about the ripple effect my selfishness will cause. My parents are going to walk into a crime scene with no trace of their daughter. I killed a man and watched another die. I wasn't in my right mind when I asked Charlie if I could come along. It's the only logical explanation because what sane person would?

So here I am, disoriented from being shoved in a trunk, exhausted from the lack of sleep, and scared because I don't know what's going on. Desperation and panic consume me as I struggle to concentrate, trying to remember the things my parents taught about these types of situations. Naturally, I barely listened, thinking it was absurd to assume I’d ever end up in trunk of a car. The road is now rough, and I’m being jostled around as I desperately try to grip anything to steady myself. My fingers find a nook and when I pull, a panel falls down, hitting me in the head. The light turns on in my brain; it was the panel for the tail light. If I could flip myself around, there was a possibility I could kick it out.

The car suddenly lurches to a stop and my body presses forward with no restraints to keep me in place. He must have grown tired of my screaming, which I didn't even realize I was doing until he stopped. How long have I been in here? I wondered. My throat is dry, but I soon forget it when I hear footsteps and then the trunk unlatch. I spring into action, pushing the lid and scrambling over the lip and bumper. My legs feel like jelly from being in the confined space and I stumble forward, but my knuckles connect with the soil as I seek to gain balance and footing. Charlie nudges me with his boot and I fall over to my side. He grabs the back of my neck and my hands instinctively claw at his arm as he rolls me to my back, pressing his knee into my chest. I’m unsure if it’s his penetrating gaze or knee taking my breath away.

"How was the ride?" he questions as digits dig into my skin. I only whimper, earning a scoff. "Well mine sucked since you wouldn't shut up," his knee presses further into my abdomen, restricting my lungs and causing my chest to tighten.

He leans down with his face only a few inches from mine, his hot breath tickling my face, "Are you going to be quiet?"

I squeak as I nod, hoping his grip will loosen or his weight would shift. He slightly tilts his head, lips pursed as he contemplates me before speaking, “Good choice."

My lungs burn as I gasp for air, rolling to my side and curling upon myself with shaky breaths. I barely get a moment to collect myself before his boot is nudging me on my back.

"Get up."

Quietly following his orders, I notice my knuckles are scraped and bleeding from hitting the lid of the trunk, hoping it would budge. I had tried the trunk release and the levers to push down the seats, but quickly realized both had been cut. Charlie must have done this before. Others have been crammed into that trunk. I swallow back the bile creeping up as I glance over to the car. I've shared space with others. What if dead people have been in there?

I'm unable to control the wretch of my stomach and with a lurch forward I'm emptying the minimal contents near his feet.

Lifting up a boot to examine it, Charlie is full of disdain before barking at me, “Keep it up and it’s back to the trunk.”

His features only tighten when I unfold, my eyes traveling down to see the vomit on my pants. Until that moment, I was almost sure I had no more tears left to cry, but the sight made my eyes pull and my lip quivers. He only remains dissatisfied with the event currently unraveling.

“You’re not riding like that. Pants off if you want to get back in the car,” he snaps. My head darts up to protest but I stop once I get a good look at our surroundings. We are standing in a gravel parking lot encompassed by trees, very tall trees, and I press my mouth shut when I spot the sign designating it as a national forest.

My fingers hesitate at the button on my jeans, stalling as I search for any sort of option and trying to ignore the nagging in the back of my head. I’m in the middle of nowhere with a stranger. This is bad.

The items in his pocket jiggle as his leg bounces impatiently before rearing up on the balls of his feet and asking with an eerie smile, “Would you rather stay here?”

I slowly shake my head, fighting back the tears as I unbutton and then shimmy the jeans over my hips and down my thighs, all the while afraid to look away, but his eyes never leave mine throughout the process which is oddly comforting.

“Come on,” he orders, pivoting and glancing back. He doesn’t get far before he’s racing back towards me and yanking my rescued cell phone from my discarded pants. “Mine now.”

He smirks as he taps the screen and then drops my phone and stomps on it with the heel of his boot. “Oopsies,” he states with exaggerated eyes, undoubtedly mocking me. His footsteps retreat as I continue to stare at the smashed pieces of my phone. My veins burn with fire as I think about everything that has happened to me today and it spills from me before I can stop it.

“What is fucking wrong with you?” I scream after him in frustration. His form rigid as he stops then pivots to face me.

Annoyance is evident as he lifts his hand and points behind him to the car, “Get into the fucking car.”

Adopting a wide stance, I cross my arms and stick my chin out in defiance, which causes him to charge at me like an enraged bull with nostrils flaring. I instantly regret my decision to act like a child, “Shit!” I dart left, trying to put some distance between us.

“Wrong move!” Charlie yells after me, now his words and my actions have married, thus furthering my initial realization that defying is a bad choice, but I still don’t stop. My legs are pumping as I run with no plan or destination in mind. The bottom of my bare feet meeting the fallen needles from the trees and hidden rocks, and I’m now in the understory of the forest wishing I had at least put my shoes back on before embarking on this adventure. My heart thumping in my chest muffles the sound of the footsteps blazing after me. I feel the hot searing of my lungs as I gulp for air, stealing a glance behind me, only to discover Charlie was closer than I originally fathomed, causing me to stumble, grabbing for the tree only to have my outreached hand intercepted. I cry out in frustration and fear as he whips me around, grabbing my waist and hoisting me over his shoulder.

I flail my arms and legs, hitting and kicking him with each step even though the exercise is futile.

“You are really pissing me off,” he snarls and I smile victoriously.

“Good!”

I breathlessly jolt when his hand strikes my bottom, the wallop echoing through the trees and causing a burning pain on my cheek and tears to pool but I refuse to let them fall, unwilling to provide him the satisfaction of not only capturing me, but also breaking the small fragment left of my spirit. Instead, I slump forward with my eyes shut and give into the swaying of his gait. Soon I'm lowered, strategically placed between him and the car as he opens the door and then grabs my arm with bruising force, slinging me into the passenger seat before slamming the door closed. The car creaks and rocks from the action. His eyes are glued to me through the windows as he rounds the hood, his hand dragging along the metal in a threatening manner. It was either a dare or a taunt or perhaps both, although none of the options were something I wished to pursue.

I look away in defeat as he angrily throws himself into the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. I could feel his ire burning holes into the back of my skull, but the sudden lurch of the car causes me to jump as the tires spin, causing dust and gravel to fly into the air. His eyes are still fixated on me, as I nervously look between him and the road we are now barreling down.

I uncomfortably shift in my seat, the bumpy road aggravating my freshly marred behind, and as I frantically paw for my seat belt, the hot leather pulls at my skin as I pivot to secure the clasp.

Charlie coolly mirrors by actions, never breaking his gaze. I struggle between my silent protest of will and speaking out against his reckless behavior. A smirk pulls at his lips, as if he can read my mind.

“Problem?” he smugly mocks.

I chew my lip, now distraught that he’d kill us both without blinking.

“Let’s get something straight, Millie,” he spits out my name with malice and the words sound foreign as they pass through his lips for the first time. A chill rolls down my spine knowing I’ve never told him my name. “I’m not here to play games with some little bored country bumpkin. Don’t pull that shit again, because you won’t like the outcome."

"How do you know my name?" I blurt out, ignoring his threat.

He glances to the road and back with a raised brow, "It's on your shirt."

My cheeks flush as my chin tucks, and sure enough, Millie was stitched in white thread over my left breast. I sheepishly sink into the furthest recess of the seat, feeling abashed over such a trivial blunder which is amplified by Charlie's condescending chuckle.

"It's been a long day," I murmur, rubbing my hands down my face and drawing my legs up to the seat. I whine as I wiggle, trying to provide enough space to curl up on the seat into a comfortable position. As my eyes droop, I could almost swear I see the corner of Charlie's mouth lift at my discomfort.

The unexpected heaviness settling on my lap causes my eyes to flash open, and I'm greeted by a black hooded sweatshirt draped across my body. I squint, turning to Charlie who is intensely studying the road, illuminated by our headlights.

"You were shivering," he explains as my fingers curl into the soft material of the jacket.

"Thanks," I rasp, my mouth dry from sleep. Licking my lips, I scan the interior for a water bottle only to come up empty. Tugging the jacket up to my waist, I contemplate if I should press my luck to ask but venture against it. The car's air conditioning was full blast, likely used to keep him awake and I didn't want to provoke him, and chance losing the jacket.

My stomach has its own opinion however, loudly rumbling in the otherwise silent car.

"We'll be stopping within the hour," he responds. I press my lips into a line at the reassurance, and double take once I notice the time on the clock reading 5 am. I slept longer than I had realized.

"Where are we?"

"Outside Atlanta," his answer is brisk and pointed.

"Oh..." my voice trailing off as I gaze out the window. I'd never been this far south before. Hell, I'd barely ventured out of my part of the state.

Charlie's voice breaks my train of thought, "Vincent is fond of the underground poker rooms and clubs."

"Besides chasing down the asshole, what's the true purpose behind this trip?" my curiosity is finally getting the better of me and to my surprise, Charlie offers a genuine smile. It's disturbingly charming.

"Money?" he flashes another grin, causing my stomach to roll, although this time its not out of hunger or nausea.

"Right," I sigh, fidgeting with the hem of the jacket as I think of anything else.

"He owes my boss the money and I get a fraction of the proceeds."

My brows knit in concentration, "So you're the muscle then. How exactly does one become a henchman?"

And with the question Charlie's relaxed and somewhat playful demeanor fades, replaced with apathy and Charlie shrugs with his response, "Survival."

I lean my head to the window, wistfully gazing out at the trees and occasional house. I wonder if the occupants are happy or silently suffering. Did a rash decision contribute to either outcome? The car begins to slow as we enter a small town. I lift off my seat, carefully repositioning myself as Charlie's voice cuts through the morose trance of my otherwise raw existence.

"We're pulling off for gas and a bite."

I hug my stomach, focusing on the diner as Charlie pulls up to the gas pump and parks. He lumbers out of the seat and slams the car door behind him. I crane my neck as he rounds the car, twisting once he reaches my blind spot at the pump. I know you shouldn't watch a tea kettle boil, but I felt compelled to watch him fill the car as if it would speed up the process. He briefly catches my gaze in the side mirror before pulling out his cell phone and walking over to the nearby grass. With the receiver to his ear, Charlie cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders while listening. He snarls into the phone before pressing a button, sliding it into his pocket as he makes his way back to the pump. The nozzle is jammed into its holder and he closes the latch, his bottom lip jutting out. My heartbeat races as he nears the door and slings it open, if that call prevents me from eating I might cry. No, I'll definitely cry.

The car never picks up speed and I heavily sigh when we pull before the diner. I push the jacket off and excitedly unclip the belt, but freeze with my hand on the release when Charlie's hand covers my knee.

"Where do you think you're going?" his brow arches with the question. I can feel my skin burn as he squeezes.

"To eat?" my response is wobbly.

"Most places prefer their patrons wear pants," he says while withdrawing his hand and my eyes cast down to my bare legs.

"Looks like the neighbors left out some laundry," his head tilts to the fenced yard next to the diner. My head following to the full clothesline before settling back on Charlie, pleading with my eyes.

"Get to it," he says, exiting the car and leaning on the fender.

I hesitantly, haul myself out of the car. My shirt leaving nothing to the imagination, stopping at my hips, but I tug at the material trying to stretch it. Charlie appears amused as I scuttle past him to the fence, meekly covering my ass with one hand as though he hasn't chased it through the forest.

I bite my lip, giving up on any modesty as I lift the lever on the gate. My plan is to grab the first article of clothing and dart. Peeking over my shoulder, the parking lot remains empty minus Charlie openly smirking at my distress.

Shaking it off, I swing the gate open as I beeline for the clothesline. Thankfully, a pair of denim shorts is the first thing within reach. To my surprise the tag reads my size, I squeal with delight as I yank them from the line and pivot to the gate with shorts waving in the air. Charlie is practically falling over with laughter as I hurriedly slam the gate closed and unbutton the denim, nearly stumbling over as I step through the leg openings and shimmy them up.

His smile quickly fades once they're buttoned and my head tilts with curiosity, trying to spot a reason for the suddenly shift. The shorts fit, even though the length wasn't to my preference. I never understood why people liked their front pockets hanging out from the material, but they would allow me to eat.

"What?" I question, unable to find a probable cause since I did as ordered.

"Nothing," his voice clipped. If I weren't so hungry I might press but with my luck, he'd make me watch him eat so I let it slide. I've had enough excitement for one day.

@spiteandalice @thick-chops @kenzieam @lauraaan182 @ariwolff14 @knittingmad @captstefanbrandt @scissor-win-ski @lostinthebeans @bookwarm85 @letstrytheridingcrop @beltz2016 @ashtotes @jojuarez26 @roslea @oddsnendsfanfics @sharknadoslut @murmelinchen @iammarylastar @tigpooh67 @pathybo @ntepie @emmysrandomthoughts @beautifulramblingbrains @feminamortem @equalstrashflavoredtrash @societalfailure @

#mine #my fic #jack reacher #charlie #jack reacher fic #au #charlie x ofc-millie #jai courtney #Jai Courtney characters #jai courtney fanfiction #jai courtney fic

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