#and if you include the “rest” off season pay in next year it's only a 20K paycut instead of 50K

[dixons-sunshine]

hii, i just saw a post with a few daryl headcanons, and one of them were about how attentive he would be his partner in general (like her mannerisms or habits), and i think he would really pay attention to some really specific things about her and everyone including reader would be like ¿¿¿¿¿, 😂so i was just thinking if maybe you could write something about that? i love your writtings!!

Observe | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl Dixon is an extremely observant guy. He notices things that people normally wouldn't pick up on. That didn't change when the two of you got together. In fact, it increased by a tenfold.

Or, four different scenarios where the archer shows he knows more about you than you think.

Genre: Fluff, smut.

Era: Prison, season 4; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, oral (f receiving), mentions of unprotected p in v.

Word count: 1.8k.

A/n: I'm so close to being done with a young!Daryl fic, but my mind is struggling to work towards the ending, so I wrote this instead. By the way, I suck at writing smut, so I'm so sorry if it's bad. However, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Zach, please, I beg of you, just shut up,” you laughed, settling back against the passenger seat of the car with your legs propped up on the dashboard.

The eighteen year old laughed at you, propping his head up against your seat. “Come on, one more.”

“Zach, don't,” you warned him, sending him a mocking glare.

Daryl watched the interaction in amusement. The run the three of you had gone on went relatively smoothly, and the teenager had taken it upon himself to celebrate the victory by reading jokes from a book he had found, albeit they were rather terrible. However, even he had to admit that the horribleness of the jokes made them rather funny, and Zach used that to his advantage.

“What did one toilet say to the other?” Zach asked, laughing at the joke from his book.

“Zach—” you started warningly, but Zach cut you off.

“You appear to be a bit flushed!” Zach finished, laughing loudly at the lame joke.

You let out an audible groan, rolling your eyes at him. However, Daryl could instantly tell that you did find the joke rather funny. The subtle changes in your facial expression gave it all away.

“That was terrible,” you told him with a shake of your head, folding your arms over your chest.

“You thought it was funny, though,” Zach pointed out, flipping to the next page in the book.

“Do you see me laughing?”

“Nah, but tha' ain't necessary,” Daryl piped in, talking for the first time since Zach had started his onslaught of terrible jokes. “Ya did find it funny. Yer nose slightly scrunches when ya think somethin' is amusin'. And yer eyes crinkle at the corners, too. Plus ya mouth slightly twitches up into a smile before disappearin'.”

The car got immensely silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the rumble of the engine as the car descended back towards the prison. You were staring at Daryl in surprise, but he could see the way your mouth slightly twitched up into a small smile. It made Daryl's face heat up, and he ducked his head.

“Well,” Zach started, clearing his throat and shutting the book again. “Aren't you just an observant lover, Daryl?”

“Shut up, kid,” Daryl mumbled, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel.

“No, it's cute! Who would've thought that a guy like you would pick up on something like that? You know, Beth—”

As Zach yammered on, Daryl's eyes drifted back to you. You were holding your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them, but your head was turned towards him. You were staring at him with a lovesick smile, and he felt his heart start pounding against his ribcage. He wished that he could just reach out and hold one of your hands in his own. However, he wasn't big on public displays of affection, and Zach would tease him relentlessly if he did so in the teenager's presence, so he opted instead to send you a small smile.

Luckily, later that night when you were both on watch duty, he could hold you in his arms to his heart's content.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“I'm telling you, that Spencer guy is such a fucking jerk,” you started, walking into your Alexandrian home with Daryl, Michonne and Rick hot om your tail.

Rick nodded in agreement. “Yeah. He is a real asshole. I don't know how the people here put up with him.”

Michonne practically flopped herself down on the couch, kicking off her boots that came clad with the constable uniform. “He's Deanna's son. He's practically royalty here. That means he's untouchable.”

Rick was eyeing the loveseat couch, ready to fall down and just relax, but Daryl's hand gripping his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. Rick sent the archer a confused look, but Daryl wasn't even watching the former sherrif—he was watching you. Rick followed his gaze and saw you sit on the couch, bringing your legs up to rest on the plush seat. You leaned your back against the back of the couch as you listened to Michonne talk about her day, adding your own comments every now and again.

“She's been doin' tha' everyday since we got here,” Daryl offered a quiet explanation when Rick sent him another look. “She rarely sits on any couch 'sides tha' one. Tha's her favourite spot.”

“Did she tell you that?” Rick asked, glancing in your direction.

“Nah,” Daryl replied, shaking his head. “I can see it on her face every time she has to sit on any other couch. She prefers the loveseat.”

Rick sent the archer a teasing smile, lightly patting him on the shoulder. “I didn't even notice that. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you did, though. When you're not hunting or going on runs, you're watching her. It's really cute.”

Daryl scoffed and shrugged the man's hand from his shoulder. “I dun' always watch her. S'jus' somethin' I picked up on. Ain't gotta read into it or anythin'.”

“You don't need to be ashamed of admitting you know little things about the person you love, Daryl,” Rick assured him, giving him another light pat on the back. “Knowing things like that just shows that you care.”

Daryl looked back over at you again, your melodic laughter filling the air when Michonne said something funny. Daryl could feel his heart swell with love, and he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Rick chuckled and nudged Daryl. “C'mon, you lovestruck fool. Let's relax.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Daryl walked back into the community, a slight skip in his step, something extremely uncommon for the otherwise serious archer. He had a string of rabbits over his shoulder, and he couldn't wait to skin them and make some stew with them for you. From all of the animals he's ever brought back from his hunts, he had noticed that you seemed to have a huge liking for rabbit. Today he had managed to find a few rabbits, and he intended to surprise you.

When he got to the porch of the house, he sat down in his usual spot and began the skinning process. His hands made quick work of skinning his kills, and in no time at all, he was done. When he was sure that he had cleaned up the blood to ensure that Carol didn't bite his head off again for messing up the porch, he made his way inside and into the kitchen.

However, Daryl stopped in his tracks when he saw you already in the kitchen.

Perking up when you saw your partner, you sent him a smile. “Hey, Dar! You're back.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, uh... Wasn't much to find out there 'cept, uh, rabbit.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a small smile when he saw how you visibly perked up at the mere mention of something you enjoyed. He admired the way a smile lit up your face, your eyes crinkling slightly.

“Rabbit?”

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed, holding up the skinned animal. “Wanted to surprise ya with some rabbit stew. S'why I came home earlier. But yer already home and stuff, so tha' kinda fell through the rug.”

You stepped forward and embraced the man in a hug, and Daryl returned it after a few moments, careful to keep the meat away from you. He felt the way you nuzzled your face against his chest, and he smiled.

“It doesn't matter. Thank you anyways,” you told him, withdrawing from the hug. “How about you bring that and we'll make some rabbit stew together?”

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh'. Sounds like a good plan to me.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, oh my god!” Your moans filled the room, your back arching off the bed as you tightly gripped onto Daryl's hair.

Daryl hummed against your core as his tongue licked another stripe from your clit down to your entrance, matching the pace of his fingers that were thrusting into you. His mouth latched onto your clit and started sucking, successfully coaxing moans from you that were downright sinful. Your grip on his hair tightened as you practically shoved his head deeper against you.

After a few moments, your grip on his hair loosened. You instead opted to grip onto the sheets beneath you, your hands clenching into fists before unclenching again, the only sounds from you being garbled words that Daryl couldn't understand and high-pitched moans. Daryl smirked against your pussy, and started speeding up the pace.

Daryl knew those signs meant that you were close to unraveling. Whether he was eating you out like a starved man or he was stuffed deep inside of you, it didn't matter. You always did that when the coil in your stomach was close to snapping. It's something that didn't even register in your mind, the haze of pleasure evaporating any and all thoughts from your head.

Not too long after, you finally came undone. Daryl didn't ease up, licking up every drop that came gushing from your core. When he was done, he lifted his head, and you could see the way your slick was dripping from his face. You couldn't see the blues of his eyes anymore, his pupils blown wide with lust.

Daryl clambered upwards and caught your lips in a passionate kiss. You moaned at the taste of you in his mouth and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your nails lightly digging into his skin. Daryl smirked against your lips, before pulling away and gazing into your eyes.

“Think ya can handle another one, sunshine?”

You didn't give him a verbal response, but Daryl didn't need one. The way you licked your lips and tightened your hold against him was enough. He leaned down for another quick kiss before quickly making work of removing his pants, not missing the way your eyes followed his hands as they freed his cock from his jeans. He also didn't miss the way you swallowed deeply.

“Dun' worry, peach,” Daryl voiced, finally removing his jeans and rejoining you on the bed again. “I know what ya need. I can see it.”

Yeah, it was safe to say that Daryl Dixon was the most observant guy ever.

[tasty-littl-snack]

Hey lil question: I was scrolling the shyan tag and saw an ask on your blog that referred to ryan and shane having some kinda fight after/during their investigation of Waverly Hills on Ghost Files. I hadn’t heard this story before so I wondered what the OG source for that info is. Just for science and the ethics code of ghost hunting’s sake ofc 🫠 Not doubting just ravenously curious!

(The ask and the post it spins off from in question)

Oh yeah sure no problem. Some of these anecdotes are now lost to time because their patreon is now gone so no easy way to see the sources but, this one has three sources including one from Shane Madej himself.

Before the streamer and up to June this year they had a patreon and the bonus content on there for higher tiers was one of the crew doing audio commentary on the episode (think dvd commentaries where people share behind the scenes). Sometimes to incentivize people to see what is available on higher tiers they posted some of Shane's commentaries for all paying patrons. In 2022 they also had the sick and unrealistic shedule of posting Ghost files ep every week, so Ryan was busy and couldn't do it for the first ep. Therefore Shane did that even tho his only working on the show was being there brainstorming for how the boonker would look like (off-topic but here is a fun interview of them comparing this to furnishing a house together wtf) and editing the ghost files outro so the music is as haunting as it is. Since the commentary was created as a watchalong (I listened to it as a podcast bc I find Shane's voice great to listen to, but that's just me), at the end of it he goes into explaining why he didn't tell Ryan where the walkie was. (according to him he asked the crew beforehand and they didn't say he couldn't do it). So when we see Ryan being angry you can hear Shane say "He's genuinely mad here by the way, and I meant it when I said it's good to be a ghost hunter but internally I was like "Is Ryan mad at me? yknow". In that commentary we also hear Shane's impression of their car drive from Waverly and while Shane tries to talk, Ryan is answering him in short phrases. He was also mad at him the next morning apparently, but I guess they made up. So that's the primary source for that, and I swear I heard a snippet on this on tumblr, or maybe some people posting about it back in the day but I couldn't find it (if someone has it then feel free to share that snippet).

The second source that I have that this happened is Hinsdale House Debrief (Ghost Files season 2 finale), (around 23.30 with the 'solo investigation' part of the video) when someone asks Lizzie if she'd go on a solo and she admits that a location like Waverly would be out of the question, and so Ryan is like "Now imagine if your pal didn't tell you where the walkie is and you have to do the solo investigation for an hour" so like a year maybe two after this we can see that he still remembers this and while Lizzie and Shane say "You chose this life" Ryan is somewhat upset about it. Lizzie then says "He didn't talk to Shane after this for like a week" and since she is their coworker and has to deal with them I find that really fascinating.

Third source is this Really no Really podcast interview with Ryan and Shane, (Around 23,00 minutes in, segments: the relationship and the first episode) when they ask them about their relationship and then they go into recounting the whole thing again (here Shane once again makes the impression of Ryan being mad at him in the drive back). In general I reccomend watching this ep because they are really cute together and you get to see them interact with mr Jason Alexander who is a fan of them and it's really cool to see.

Also if you have the streamer, in Mystery Files bloopers Ryan also explains why he did the blob prank on Shane, and it was to get back at him for the walkie thing from Waverly so I think this is really their one serious fight that they will allude to for the rest of their friendship.

Thank you for asking, hope it clears things up a bit <3

(also I'm sorry for clogging the shyan tag I just sometimes remember to tag things and sometimes I don't so random asks end up in the search)

[strawberry-shortcakey]

my defense of Caitlyn in wake of season 2

    Defending my wife rn 

    Lets get right into this mind you my spelling and punctuation are like non existent so yk

Starting off with the thing i feel people seem to not really understand is whats happening is shes being tugged in like 5 different directions struggling between her obligations to her family name the kiraman family is matriarchal this rests on her entirely she wants to maintain her mothers legacy yet theres the undeniable rage fueled by her mothers death and her feeling of failing all of piltover the feeling that if she had killed jinx before there wouldnt have been so many lives lost she feels ultimately responsible for everything in her life which makes that rage overpower her i mean most of the council civilians enforcers who she had been around her WHOLE LIFE. she feels all that weight in her heart and on her mind much like vi due to her trauma generalizes the people of piltover and enforcers cait blames zaunites and i feel its unfair to give vi a pass and not caitlyn shes trying to hold onto her morals she fights for avoiding innocents getting hurt until the memorial attack where it turns into more than an attack by jinx now an attack from multiples causing her to lose that part of her morals and the last pull is for vi caitlyn loves vi thats something i have never doubted for even a second i mean seriously she puts so much at stake for vi. People don't seem to see that her bringing vi before the council in season one couldve ended poorly for her it couldve reflected horribly onto her family if the council had decided not to hear her out. And on top of all of that shes trying to hold it together. We see her cry a few times but she doesnt ever really let it out i mean shes putting herself under that pressure part of her character has always been that she hates when things are just handed to her as we see in her scene with grayson when she gets upset at the mere idea of her parents paying off grayson to let her win and we confirm that stayed into adulthood when jayce offers her that job for him and shes offended at the mere idea and i feel part of her feels if she shows that pain shes in things are gonna be handed to her out of sheer pity something that would likely fuel her rage further and further.

Next topic is her being willing to kill isha if it meant killing jinx. Now i understand the shock of this how it feels “out of character for her” but it really isnt yes she has been openly against the idea of people getting hit in the crossfire but in her mind its 1 innocent for multiple innocents including her own mother. she also isnt the first character to directly or indirectly result in a child's death and she didnt even succeed so yk but anyway every single councilor is responsible for countless deaths of undercity children and families heimerdinger honestly the most responsible because yk like 200 years of  ignoring the undercity and can i also just mention vis switch up on her opinion season one jayce kills a kid when fighting at the shimmer lab and vi has the mentality “you did what needed to be done one life for like 100” yet when caitlyn finds herself in that same mindset vis all “whats wrong with you you're evil now” so uh yeah not an attack on vi just trying to expand on it throughout this i will make comparisons on how we excuse vi but attack caitlyn and why i think thats really telling of how people see her as a character only there for caitvi romance plot!! But anyway caitlyn had every fucking right in that moment mind you she also was running on adrenaline something that i feel a lot of people don't understand in that moment its often impulse you do the first thing to come to mind she was just fighting off sevika shes in that do or die mindset its kill jinx or people die people also don't understand how deep caits trauma around jinx runs we don't know what she was put through during the time between her abduction and the like final scene of season 1 also just yk the entire show. jinx is her personal trauma.

Now onto the caitvi argument in the tunnels lets loop back to the state of mind she was in shes pumped on adrenaline rage and fear. She feels a deep sense of betrayal much like jinx does when vi “picks cait over her” its that feeling of “oh so you care more about someone who deeply hurt me and a random kid than me.” that only fuels her rage/pain that is making her less and less of her core values. caitlyn gets on the defensive she makes a generalization Something once again we see vi do to caitlyn earlier with the oil and water speech which no doubt left a hole in caits heart something that will stick with her dare i even say that plays a part in why she no longer sees zaun and pilover as two sides of the same coin the person who helped her learn something so crucial suddenly saying “actually we are different piltover is all the same you're all horrible. We can never get along, you are not an exception” which no doubt shattered that view and helped cement the separation in her mind. The key difference is that vi didnt get physical cait pushed her and hit her with the rifle but like i said she's on the defense. Also ive seen people saying “oh well cait knows how shes traumatized by enforcers” to caitlyn that trauma is equal to the trauma of what jinx has done to her and honestly it is caitlyn has lost almost everything to this for the sake of what started off as her dreams of justice her need to prove herself has been what she feels like is the sole cause of the  downfall of piltover. Which is why i truly believe caitlyn is still herself that the development to her character logical and her actions fully explainable and defendable 

Little added thing it’s after getting compared to jinx that she hits vi I mentioned how that’s literally her main trauma jinx killed her mom and ruined her life I’d hit someone with a rifle over that too.

And thats all ive got for now lmk if i should cover more!! And i will be adding as arc 2 and 3 release!

[anyroads]

Here's the thing. I wouldn't have a problem with people just saying "Merry Christmas" if other major religious holidays were acknowledged too. If around late October everyone was like "happy Diwali!" and every Rosh Hashanah people said "shana tovah" or it was standard to wish people Eid mubarak, then a "Merry Christmas" would just be a marker of time and I would feel like it's someone else's turn to celebrate in the multi-cultural cycle of annual celebrations. Because the thing is, these holidays tend to happen off the radar of the dominant culture in culturally Christian countries. Christmas specials are a norm, but the Diwali episode of The Office was a one-off, the Jewish high holidays barely show up even in shows with Jewish characters, Chinese New Year is... where is it? Right? Where's the representation? I mean, the reason a holiday like Hanuka gets emphasized next to Christmas and rolled into "Happy Holidays" (as does Kwanzaa) is because that means these holidays can be gathered around being able to keep Christmas central to the season. Hanuka is a minor holiday; funny how Purim, which is of similar status among Jewish holidays, is a blip outside of Jewish communities.

If Christians were able to be as comfortable with Rosh Hashanah and Eid and Diwali and Chinese New Year and other festivals as they expect the rest of us to be with Christmas, then I'd say ok fair, everyone has their festivals and we all pay attention to each other and know how to give well wishes that are culturally respectful and it's wonderful! It would just be living in a society where people from diverse backgrounds respect and acknowledge each other (what a concept). What bothers me is that not only are no other religion or culture's holidays acknowledged or given thought in culturally Christian societies, but the only way to get any acknowledgment is to have your holidays timed around Christian holidays like Christmas. If the Maccabees had stayed up in the mountains for another month, Hanuka would be treated as the minor holiday it is. If Diwali was a couple months later than it is, then it would be called the "Hindu Christmas" and Hindu people could rightfully be frustrated about that.

It bothers me so much that Western culture is so deeply centered around Christianity that we have debates over whether "happy holidays" is an OK thing to say or not, instead of asking, "what if you just learned about other holidays too and respected them as much as you demand respect for yours?" And we're all thinking it. Non-Christians talk about this, btw. But we know that if we say it out loud, then it makes the Christians (including the atheist cultural Christians*) angry because they know it's a bad look to say the quiet part out loud: that they think they're superior and expect everyone to acknowledge this without them having to give non-Christian cultures basic respect in any genuine way.

*this is specific to atheists who consider themselves culturally Christian. if you don't belong in BOTH these categories don't @ me. there's no implication that the two go irrevocably hand in hand and your lack of reading comp skills isn't my problem. i don't have spoons for a baby Richard Dawkins tantrum.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Pssst...come here. I have a little secret.

Selling one of my original paintings will result in hitting the current goal and someone receiving a free quilt.

Selling all four of my original paintings will result in wiping out Cacoa's vet bills (there are two and total just over $1400 USD), paying for a plumber (wet season will be here soon and we need the plumber NOW), wiping out one of our other debts (around $1200 as of this post, and it will start collecting interest next spring), and a good chunk of the rest (around $5k, not collecting interest). That means several people will be winning a quilt.

To anyone who purchases one of my paintings: I will be happy to make a little quilt for you as thanks.

Paying off the debts will mean we can actually save money rather than spending it all on bills, food, and paying off these debts. More exciting goals will be posted instead, like being able to purchase things from my wishlist. You may, of course, purchase these on my behalf and receive a free quilt as a show of thanks. It would just be really nice if I could afford to purchase things myself.

Please, buy my paintings. I would like to no longer have to beg for help, and these are the fastest way to making it possible.

I have $9455 worth of artwork in my shop right now. That includes both my paintings and quilts (coasters and up). More is being added every week until I take a significantly overdue break that's longer than a week (I need at least a month seeing as I've been working virtually nonstop since February). I would be outstanding if it all sold. Right now, I'll be satisfied with just one or two of my paintings selling. Ecstatic if all four sell. I may very well faint in shock if everything in the shop sells before the year is over though. Pay off all our debts, put money aside to replace the plumbing, and purchase some things from my wishlist.

Please share this!!! For those from social media, it means hitting the reblog button, not liking the post. Liking it is a bookmark for you and no one will see it. I'm not on social media (for a long list of reasons) and never will be. If you use social media, please share this information as well as my links. If you've received my work, be it a gift, shop purchase, giveaway prize, or commission, share a review of it on your social media accounts. I'm a Disabled artist (on a fixed income of enforced poverty) and will never be able to work a "Real Job," my husband is the only one employed (currently a dishwasher), and he's also my caregiver (the state pays him and it's enough for the mortgage and a couple bills). Selling my work is the only way I can make any income. Vendoring conventions and craft fairs is not an option due to my health as well as my husband's work schedule, so please don't suggest those.

Thank you!

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Part 9: ~

How it Began Part 2:

Writing Caz's headspace in this part of the timeline has oddly enough been fun. Might be because I don't think anyone would have thought about doing what he did.

Small note: I hadn't been paying attention to the canon dates in the game, so they're a little all over the place and something I'm currently fixing.

Part 10:

If you expected tension in the flat as soon as Caz got home, you'd be wrong.

In fact, for the next week or so, everything was normal. No fighting. No cold shoulders from Suze. Nothing. Caz didn't tell her anything, and neither did Roy. Everything just carried on as normal. A punch up in a pub wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If anyone who witnessed it passed by Caz, with or without his family, they didn't say anything. Everything was calm.

Until the 2nd September 1975.

It wasn't until after 8pm. when Caz came home. The sun was still out, but he had to be quiet, knowing Maidie would be asleep by now, with Cait possibly finishing her homework. He passed Roy's flat on the floor below, left a six-pack of Coca-Cola on the welcome mat, and knocked on the door for him before continuing up the stairs. He didn't wait to see if the big man was home. His feet and back ached, but he felt the weight slowly lift when he turned the keys and walked inside.

'I'm home,' he called with his inside voice. 'I brought chicken burgers.' No one answered. 'Suze?' Caz stepped out the entrance hallway and into the open planned living space. He caught her sitting at the kitchen table with a distant look in her eyes. She held her hands together and leaned her head against them. Something was wrong, yet Caz didn't put two and two together. 'Suze?' He approached and rested a hand on her shoulder, kneeling down. 'What's wrong? Is it to do with your ma?'

'Just sit down, Caz.' There was a tremble in her voice.

Suze's eyes lingered on a letter at the table. Caz noticed. He stood up, reached for it, and began to read.

'To the Homeowner,

I am writing in regards to an event that happened on 27th August 1975 at 10:03pm at The Duke public house.

Our client, William Francis Chamberlain, wishes to press charges against Mr. Cameron McLeary, in regards to grievous bodily harm, which has resulted in Mr. Chamberlain being hospitalised, where he continues to seek treatment. Injuries include head trauma, fractured jaw and cheekbone, and multiple bruising. Mr. Chamberlain also wishes to press charges for verbal assault.

We will be expecting a reply from you shortly.

Yours sincerely.'

Caz felt a lump in his throat. He didn't believe it. He didn't hurt Billy that much, surely. The cunt deserved it. How dare he slag off his wife like that, drunk or not. No one insulted her. His eyes lingered back to Suze, only to be met with a stare that would frighten Satan himself. She had clearly been crying, but the sadness was now a rage.

'I can explain-' Suze slammed a hand firmly on the table. The chair bounced on the wooden floor as she got to her feet.

'Explain what, Caz?! That you nearly beat a man to death, or that you didn't tell me?!'

'Suze, please, where are the girls?'

'At me ma's.' Meaning there was no holding back. Suze sniffled and curled her lips inwards to think about how to fix this and what this meant for their future. This wasn't the first time Suze would have to clean up after him, but this? When will it end?

Caz approached and went to touch her, but Suze pulled away and stormed into the bedroom. He followed. 'Look, Suze. Everything happened so fast, but if you heard what he said about you-'

'I tried so hard,' Suze hissed. 'Tried so hard to keep us together. I thought we both did since then, but instead you go and fuck everything up.'

'He called you a slut, Suze.' Suze just retoreted with an empty chuckle as she lit a cigarette and turned to the window. It was no secret that Suze and Billy once dated during Caz's early years as a boxer, and that they had slept together on numerous occasions. The breakup wasn't anything to write home about, and Caz wasn't the reason for it. It just didn't work out, as much as her ma wished it had. 'Did you honestly want me to keep walking away from that?'

'And look where it's got us now, Caz.'

'Gies peace, Suze.'

Wrong choice of words.

'Oh, I'm sorry, love, am I being difficult?! I'm just trying to pick up the pieces of your mess!'

'He wouldn't let it go, okay?!' Caz snapped back. 'He's carried the fucking tourch for you since school! He's always hated me for being the bigger man, for having you and those beautiful fucking weans!

'Oh- no. Bigger man? You are shitting me McLeary, you're the bigger man?! Your eight year old daughter has more brains and bigger balls than you have. What about the kids?! The flat's in your name, you go to Barlinnie, then they just take it away!'

'Listen, Suze, come on!' Because, even after her rightful rant, Caz still thought she was overreacting.

'No!' Suze fired back. 'No, you just - you shut it McLeary, you sit your arse down and you... You just listen to me!' By now, through pure frustration, Suze was holding back tears.

'How can we not just talk about this?'

'Because I'm smarter than you, that's why.' Now the tears began to flow. 'And I will not - I will not - let you drag those girls down with you.' Her arm began to bounce in the air. 'You sort this. Whatever you have to do, I don't care. You sort this, or I will leave you, you understand me?' Those words were a stab in the heart for both of them, but it was too late for Suze to show regret. To her, Caz had to hear those words.

'Suze, look, I'm really sorry.'

'Caz, just enough... Okay? Just-' She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and bit her lip. 'Just get out of my sight. Try not to put anyone in hospital today, eh? That might make a nice change for you...' Suze's message to Caz was loud and clear through the deafening silence that followed. He wanted to hug her. Hold her close and tell her he'll fix everything, but he can't. Instead, he quietly left the room and watched Suze slam the door behind him. He didn't leave and listened to Suze's sobs as she crumbled to the floor. She was right. He had to fix this.

Caz took himself to the public stairs outside their flat. He sat in thought and bounced his leg and chewed his nails. For a moment, he did debate going to the police and turning himself in, but the thought of being in prison whilst Suze and the weans lost their home was something he couldn't imagine.

'Fucks sake, why me?'

No. No prison. Could he pay Billy to drop the charges? Maybe. But that cunt could buy all of Glasgow if he wanted. He had more than enough money whilst people, less fortunate than both of them, in the city had to share a public toilet outside their homes. Then an idea came to Caz and he shot to his feet. It was a risk, but a risk he was willing to take. He knocked on Roy's door, until the big man opened it with a look on his face. He just knew.

'Did you say Beria was looking for workers?'

[hunterssm00n]

Paranoia

Yandere! Sheriff OC

A little bit older / A black leather jacket / A bad reputation / Insatiable habits / He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

It’s below twenty this morning; cold, but beautiful. The sun rising over the hills reflects off of the ice that covers nearly every surface outside. The light makes everything look like it’s sparkling- like the inside of a winter wonderland snow globe. I, unlike most people who live around here, love the winter, so this weather doesn’t bother me. Quite the opposite; I look forward to this season every year. I think the snow is magical.

The snow is also all-telling.

Footprints are easily visible in the white flakes on the ground. You can see where someone has been, where they’ve stepped, if they’ve walked around your house, around your car, to your bedroom window to peer inside.

Maybe most people don’t think about it that way. Maybe most people aren’t paranoid like me. But then again, maybe most people don’t have a reason to be, like I do.

I notice the second set of tire tracks immediately, upon walking out the front door. I know he’s been here; he’s here every night. During the night I thought I’d heard his vehicle outside; the low idle of the engine almost like comforting white noise in the background. I had been too exhausted to really react- my new job quickly taking its toll on my daily life. Working in a warehouse makes me ready for bed by eight thirty every night like an old lady, and once I'm asleep I sleep like a rock. But the thought had been in the back of my mind nonetheless: He’s here. He’s watching.

I check, and then double check the lock on my front door, turning the door handle about ten times before I'm comfortable walking down the steps towards my car. The second thing I notice is the footprints. I see them leading from the tire tracks to my front steps, pausing there, and then walking sharply to the left. I know if I look at them more closely, and follow their trail, that they’ll lead to every window, pausing there as well. And the back door. And the basement window. If I look extra closely, I may even see gloved handprints on the window sills, gently having rested there the night before, mere hours ago. The thought gives me shivers, and it isn’t from the cold. I walk quickly towards my car, paying close attention to my surroundings all the while. The thought that he may still be here somewhere, watching, always watching, makes my spine tingle and the hair on the back of my neck raise.

I don’t know exactly how this started; what I did to capture his attention. And, evidently, his obsession. I go to work, the store, the coffee shop, and barely anywhere else. Most of the time I hide away in my little house, the only place I feel like I can truly breathe a sigh of relief. But somehow I've piqued his interest, and he’s been following me ever since.

This has been going on for a few weeks now- enough for it to become part of my routine. I’ll be in my home at night, winding down from the day, and I’ll see lights appear at the end of the driveway. Sometimes they don’t come all the way down; they sit for a few minutes before reversing and driving away. But I always know that they’ll be back, at some point. While I'm lying in bed, sometimes before I fall asleep, I’ll hear the crunching of snow and gravel under tires as the car approaches. If I'm already asleep, sometimes I'll wake up briefly, by some sort of sixth sense maybe, letting me know that I am not alone here; that there’s someone outside. The beams of light sweeping over my curtains before going out look like that of a passing vehicle on the road, but my driveway is long, so the house is not right next to the road itself. Instead it's tucked a little ways back into the trees; perfect for me to hide. And, evidently, perfect for someone else to hide, too.

He hasn’t gone any further than parking in the driveway and walking around my house, peering in the windows. But I wonder how long it will stay that way. How long before he gets a hold of my house key, and makes a copy? How long before he decides to see if one of the windows will open, so he can slide in? The answer to that, is that even after two weeks, things have been steadily escalating. And it's not like I can call the police. They'd laugh me right off the phone if I told them that it's their sheriff who is stalking me.

His name is Sheriff Ray Donnovan; mid forties, law enforcer of this small town, and my stalker.

Even when I try to tell someone, they’ve all just chalked it up to him being ‘a good cop’; ‘looking out for his town’. Plus, your house is on the main road anyways; he’s probably just parking in your driveway to watch for late night speeders. They overlook the fact that the sheriff doesn’t normally work nights; being of a higher rank, wouldn’t he pick a better shift than the graveyard one? And why, if he’s been working all day, is he parking in my driveway like a traffic cop trying to meet his monthly quota? Doesn’t the sheriff have better things to do? Also, wouldn’t he first ask to use my driveway if he was going to be hiding there to catch unsuspecting drivers in the wee hours of the morning?

I know better. A good cop doesn’t come to someone’s house at night while they’re asleep (or while he thinks they’re asleep), and park outside in their driveway all night. A good cop doesn’t memorize someone’s schedule so that he happens to run into them in random places, multiple times a week. A good cop doesn’t walk the perimeter of someone’s house every night, without being asked, to look in their windows and try to find weak points of entry.

You’re just being paranoid, they tell me. He’s a good guy; he’s an upstanding citizen. He’s the sheriff, for chrissake.

I shake my head to clear the swirling thoughts, and open my car door. Being late to work won’t fix anything.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song ‘My Oh My’ by Camilla Cabello. The above picture is from pinterest and there’s a link attached to the original post.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Shooting for the Michelin stars comes with a price

I keep thinking about the debt.

Walk with me here: In writing when you give your heroes what they want, you make them pay a price, it's not just a plot twist it's a literal "rain on your parade" moment that comes after the honeymoon period, which is usually fairly short in dramedies and it's a full-on breaking point. Meaning: Status quo does not stand a chance. Something's gotta give and usually that happens in the form of a crisis. The usual suspects include (but are not limited to) death, a fire, a trial, and a departure of some sort that doesn't include death but represents the end of an era anyway.

So, outta those possibilities, which are the most common and the ones I think will be brainstormed in The Bear's writers' room, I wish they went for the first one → death.

And here's where I get cutthroat, sorry, some characters make more sense dead. Their deaths mean progress, they are the omen, their wakes are the rites of passage, they help the plot move forward in a way no other plot device would and if handled correctly, they can even serve the ulterior motive of a happy ending (totally Austenian, I know).

Before I get into that full-on, I should clarify that all my musings have only one goal: determine the Sydcarmy friendliness level of a character, scene, storyline, etc. I couldn't care less about what's gonna happen on the show as a whole, I just care about how what may or may not happen on the show is compatible with my Sydcarmy endgame purpose and to what extent exactly? Full stop. The rest of the predictions are fun, sure, but don't really spike my curiosity or interest that much, I can totally live without them. Whilst I have dived into them and nailed some, obviously, it's like watching grass grow for me, IDGAF. The only predictions I truly care about are the Sydcarmy ones, mine and others´, because we have an awesome fandom that really pays attention to detail and treats the matter with the importance it has. It's not just a ship like any other, shipping Sydcarmy became a mission because it's us against the world pretty much, even though we have grown in numbers since The Bear slayed during the past award season, we still need to deal with a lot of 💩💩💩 from the anties and the neutrals and of course, the racists, and the gaslighting cast and crew, so it's literally us against all odds. Hence, I may not agree with everything I read around here all the time, of course, but we are brothers in arms, guys. #RESPECT.

That being said I think Cicero (aka The Godfather) is better off dead so The Bear's debt dies with him. Because, and here's the whole argument I took my sweet time to make, thanks for sticking around:

Source: Chef's pencil.com (2024)

In the graphic above we can see the ever-rising prices the customers have to pay to dine there, those are only the current ones, that graphic will be outdated by fall of this year when menus rotate. Naturally, those numbers are directly proportional to the ever-rising production costs. Besides, let's not forget that when a restaurant is granted a star, to maintain it, it needs to innovate. They can't keep it by doing the same thing they were doing when they were rewarded that star to begin with. If the "inspectors" don't perceive there's enough innovation in the menu the next year, they can remove the star/s that was/were previously granted, that's why retaining stars is a lot harder than getting them. So that equals higher costs, in other words: more money and sometimes, less revenue.

Michelin-star restaurants' costs are always on the rise, always, no matter what. That is why they are usually acquired by "Groups" or corporations that can endure the financial blow of keeping the restaurant operational and still maintain a somewhat solid profit margin. Also, their business model tends to branch out to books, private events or collaborations, etc to get different streams of income, other than the actual dining experience provided to their customers on-site. Usually, all of that has a cost structure that requires the backup of a corporation, and there are investment groups that specialize in providing that kind of support to the restaurants, kind of what Cicero does but at a much larger scale, and legit.

So: when The Bear gets its star (notice I say when and not if) our heroes will get what they want and shortly after will be "payback time", sorry I didn't make the rules. More details that back my assumption about the star can be found here.

What I want and wish to happen is that the "payback" is a crisis along the lines of: "OK, we got the bullshit star but we are still not making ends meet and if we wanna keep it, then that means we are nowhere near paying off the debt we have with The Godfather and thus he will take it all, that was the deal, we are gonna be left with nothing, all of this for nothing -I'm sorry, Syd, but hey! We still have each other, right?-". See the dramedy?

And that leads me to think that if Storer kills Cicero off we will all be happy, The Bear will keep its star (debt free) and will continue operations and Sydcarmy can flourish after that crisis, which most likely strained the relationship but they will be able to make it up.

Unrelated (?) Plus The Godfather, in the movie, really dies and gives the inheritance to his son (Al Pacino). You can watch that death here and I hope I'm not the only one who can see poetry in his death, surrounded by tomatoes on a beautiful sunny day... Awww.

I have plenty of reasons to call Cicero the Godfather but I won't dive into those yet. Raincheck? After watching season 3 I will give Cicero a run for his money if Storer doesn't ax him first as a cliffhanger, that is (which I think would be all kinds of awesome but I won't hold my breath for that one). He's shady, he does "Risky business", I can tell.

Summing up: At the end of S3 we should have a star or James Beard award which is the prequel to a Michelin Star and that will take us straight to payback and the need to tie that loose end either as a cliffhanger in S3 or in S4, which I think will be more like a series finale because I never saw The Bear as a 5 season arc, I always thought that 4 were enough and I was right about the renewal, so even though I hope I'm wrong in thinking there will be no S5, I don't think I am because the story can totally get a great closure in 4 seasons. So, by then, Cicero should be gone and we should be starting to see that in S3.

He should be the price they will all have to pay to get what they want. 🤞

I haven't forgotten about my ulterior agenda:

Level of Sydcarmy friendliness of Cicero's death → 💯

It will secure the restaurant, liberating them from the debt and bringing them closer together because Syd's shoulder can be the shoulder Carmy cries on when the only father figure he has left, after Mikey's death, is gone = 😍.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S07E08

As I was already spoiled for the ending, I can't say I paid the required amount of attention for everything before the last few scenes. But that's what this review is for, to force me to rewatch this episode.

I hardly know anything about Belize but I have a hard time believing that any cops in any country would refuse to spend some resources to find a fellow cop from another country, unless what we're going with here is that the entire Belizean police is either paid off by the cartels or completely uncooperative, and given how the episode progresses, there's no indication for either.

Never believed that the guy was the victim for a moment, even though he was stabbed right before our eyes. I don't know, something about him. But the way the episode gradually reveals how much of a sleazebag (and in the end a criminal) he is, is really good.

What kind of name is Tober? Shortened from October?

Luke Roberts got a “with” credit in the earlier episode and this one and no one in the fandom even noticed, me included. Sometimes I think we deserve the shit we’re getting from this show.

Okay, tahini definitely does not go on a burger but throwing away they entire burger? Could never be me.

"I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost him". IS THAT FUCKING FORESHADOWING???

Nice catch on Jesse's part to notice Serge's tell and call him out on it.

The woman, Marget, faking her pregnancy was a surprise. I'm so used to the "man cons both women" trope I usually see presented that way in crime shows that I never even gave a thought that she might be in on the whole thing. And Rex kept acting weird around her but everyone, myself included, assumed it was just "doggo smelling that there's something in the lady's belly".

So, hot prowl is when the burglars choose to hit houses when the owners are inside. Never heard of it. Also, sounds stupid from the burglars' side.

See, that's why you don't put such warm colors on our precinct, because you might at some point need to show that a character is in a place like Belize and then your only option will be: just even more orange.

Why does Mark's phone work fine but Charlie's wasn't?

Why is Sarah so surprised that Lina's phone never went missing? It's not like phones aren't an essential part of our lives these days.

Rex can see the number written in fluorescent paint but can't read. Maybe next season.

Joe: *shows the number 1838 in fluorescent written on the glass (very dramatic, Joe)* "Do you recognize this number?" Rosco: "Uh, the year you were born?" I cackled.

"Come work for me". Jesse, you work for the police. You can't make promises to hire people.

Well, I was totally not paying attention or I would have realized Jesse and Sarah had found a passage in one of the crates.

I like the scene with Rex passing the lasers but I'd have liked it more if they hadn't shown it in the sneak preview. Also, I suggest another music. Specifically, the music from the laser scene at Ocean's 13 lol

Dude didn't seem so broken-hearted about getting arrested in the end. What do you mean, "Oh, well"?

It is now time to stop copying other shows, Hudson and Rex. You are copying the wrong damn storylines. Specifically, the ones that I don't care to see again, as I didn't care to see them the first time either.

The scene they shot where they get the news about Charlie, they knew that they were shooting it in case John Reardon couldn’t come back. They all knew what that meant. I personally think this was insensitive towards the rest of the actors at the time it was shot.

For the audience, the only thing that ending would be good for was shock value (which I personally don't like in most cases) but in typical CityTV fashion they managed to fumble the ball again so that half of us already knew what would happen, even before they released the also spoilerish sneak peek.

The scene at the beach? Why would we as the audience want to watch a sad scene with the people close to him mourning Charlie for about a minute or so and then be done with it with a convenient fast forward months later? If you think that your show can’t handle people grieving, DON’T FUCKING WRITE THAT. Kommissar Rex had an entire episode with Rex walking around the house like he was ready to follow his partner in his grave. He would barely eat, he wouldn’t go out of the house, he didn’t want to work cases. The audience was practically begging for anyone to manage to lift his spirits (and that’s where the new guy came in). And Rex was acting like that months afterwards. It was fucking heartbreaking, it had ripped my heart right out of my chest and then stomped on it. Sarah, too, seems to have moved on just a few months later. Like, I obviously can't tell what's in her head in a few seconds but neither can anyone else and there is no grief! It’s appalling. At this point, and while talking about this scene in particular, whether Charlie is dead or not doesn’t matter. With this scene, he becomes a footnote in his own show. A sad thing of the past.

And there was no reason to write either of these scenes. Charlie’s fate could have been written as a mere disappearance which led to a cliffhanger without making people think he’s dead, until they could have known if they could get John Reardon back for next season. The result for the audience is the same, but with more genuine reactions from the characters and we wouldn’t need to jump to several months later. The episode could have ended with them not knowing about Charlie’s whereabouts. I know that it’s not an ideal ending but that’s the theme of the season. There is no reason to write something purely for shock value. If you cannot resolve anything, as they clearly could not, this isn’t the answer. Everything’s still unresolved but now you’ve put the message in the show that Charlie and Rex’s partnership isn’t a bond that cannot break, Charlie and Sarah’s relationship isn’t something immovable. And it’s probably for nothing, unless the show is way dumber than I think they already are and I’m wasting my time.

[ncisfranchise-source]

Heading into its 21st season, NCIS has a tough job: properly paying tribute to David McCallum, who died at the age of 90 in September, and his character, Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard, who was first introduced in the backdoor pilot episodes of JAG in 2003.

Season 21 Episode 2, airing on February 19, 2024, is the one tasked with doing just that, and it will be cowritten by the actor whose character we first met as Ducky’s assistant, Brian Dietzen. (Jimmy Palmer is now a doctor himself and the chief medical examiner.) Dietzen is once again collaborating with Scott Williams, with whom he wrote Season 19’s “The Helpers” and Season 20’s “Old Wounds.”

“In the episode, the team will learn of Ducky’s passing and reflect on their memories of him as they grieve,” co-showrunners/executive producers Steven D. Binder and David North told TVLine. “And true to Ducky’s meticulous and compassionate nature, even after he’s gone, he still manages to solve one last crime with the team.” They also promised “a very touching and special moment you won’t want to miss.”

But what moments need to be in what is sure to be one of the most powerful, touching episodes of the series? We suggest just those below.

An episode worthy of David McCallum and Ducky

Listen, this should go without saying and it’s more likely than not that we’ll get it, but it’s the only way to kick off this list. Whatever the tribute ends up being, it should be one that would make McCallum proud and properly reflects what both his and Ducky’s legacies mean for the show and franchise. That, of course, would include flashbacks to significant moments over the past 20 seasons.

Major returns — or at least mentions

While Dietzen and Sean Murray (who plays Tim McGee) have both been part of the show since Season 1, they were both introduced (and recurred) then. But Gibbs (Mark Harmon) has a long history with Ducky — the 400th episode detailed its origins — and Tony (Michael Weatherly), too, was part of the JAG episodes. We also saw what Ducky meant to characters who have since left like Ziva (Cote de Pablo) and Abby (Pauley Perrette) over the years. (Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, and Abby are also characters Dietzen told TV Insider in February he “would be ecstatic to write for.”) At least one major return would be great — especially from Harmon, given Ducky and Gibbs’ friendship — but if that doesn’t happen, these characters need to at least be mentioned in a significant way.

At least one flashback with Young Ducky

Adam Campbell has appeared in four episodes since Season 12, including the 400th, as young Ducky, and from his first, it was clear he was perfect casting. And if Mark Harmon isn’t in the episode, his son Sean Harmon could always return as young Gibbs for a flashback highlighting the early days of that friendship.

Palmer sharing an anecdote about Ducky...

… just like Ducky did all the time. He’s the perfect person to deliver it, and it would be especially fitting if that is what helps the team solve its case, given Binder and North’s tease in their statement.

Heartfelt emotion, grief, and joy

It’s going to be a heartbreaking hour. We already know that. But there needs to be (at least a little) joy as well as Ducky’s life is celebrated. Not only could that work, but it could also fit the bill of what Dietzen previously told us he wanted to tackle when it came to writing his next episode: “I would love to do a lighter show, for sure. … But that said, if I could dig into some darker stuff with any one of these characters, that would be a joy to do as well.” Ducky lived a long life. There are some stories still to be told. Those could certainly bring some laughs.

Acknowledgement of what Ducky meant to NCIS beyond the team (and their memories)

Sometimes it’s easy to forget about the rest of the agency, but Ducky didn’t just work with this one team. And he continued to mean quite a deal to NCIS as its historian after he left the chief ME position. There could be some sort of gathering — outside of a funeral, if that’s shown — or not, but what there definitely needs to be is something permanent in the building that serves as a reminder of the legacy Ducky has left behind.

It ends in the morgue

Empty, lights out.

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Doug Chiang of a Kraft Dragon collapsing on Tatooine, while Sandpeople look on, next to a bantha. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 1, The Marshal. Calendar by DateWorks.

NOTE This story was originally published on August 14, 2023. I'm still on vacation and thought folks might like to read this one again.

Grogu almost missed Cobb Vanth. He was a person, one of the few humans, other than Peli Motto, who had noticed Grogu’s relationship with the Mandalorian right away. Grogu almost missed him, because despite Cobb’s fancy words, he didn’t try to stop the bounty hunter from risking his life when they were helping the Tuskens and the Mos Pelgo town folk with the tiny little problem of a rampaging Krayt dragon. 

After all, how much of the work was the Mandalorian supposed to do? All of it? Sure the Sandpeople and the town folk had come out in numbers to try to solve the problem they both experienced in the worst way, but the Marshal had just let Din walk right into the Krayt dragon’s lair without so much as a ‘Hey, what about the kid?’, passing his lips. 

Nope, he’d been much more concerned about the Mandalorian armor he’d purchased from the Jawas years before. The only way he was going to be able to keep it was if Din Djarin failed to help with the Krayt dragon and that just didn’t seem fair or right to Grogu. Mandalorian armor belonged to Mandalorians. Not Jawas. Never Jawas, really.

Grogu had seen the writing on the inside of the cuirass (don’t ask him how, Grogu knows how to keep a secret) and knew it said, in very fine print, ‘Property of Mandalore. If found, return immediately. Otherwise we’ll come and take it off you and you know that means and it won’t be pleasant.’ Or words to that affect. 

Cobb Vanth bought the armor, put it one and immediately fell subject to the requirements written on it. He did the protect your clan part pretty well (normally on the inside of the vambrace) and the help people in need part really well (on the flight pack), but the returning it to the people who made it at such cost and with so much riding on it (someone’s whole family tree was written on the rest of the cuirass) was something the Marshal had failed at.

So while Cobb Vanth was busy fussing and fretting about how the whole thing was going to go down, Grogu had to sit there and listen to them talk about every plan for attacking the critter. None of those plans included just feeding it. None of them included a method for getting it to move out of the area. Nope. They were all about ending the critter. 

Grogu’s Jedi training told him that there had to be another way, but no one was paying attention to him. If they had, he would have suggested that they just work together to move the town. It wasn’t like Mos Pelgo was huge. It was a handful of buildings and very little in the way of infrastructure. Tatooine was mostly empty, so moving away from a Krayt dragon freeway and nest seemed like a good option to him. 

Or, they could have lured the Krayt out of it’s den and then destroyed the den, nest, whatever. The Krayt would have to find a new place to live. They could have even looked for a better place and set it up and then encouraged the critter to go there. Krayt dragons were native to Tatooine, which was pretty hard to believe, because it takes a critter forever to evolve and Tatooine had once been a very different planet, green and lush with oceans and everything. 

But Grogu supposed that anything was possible with the Force, so that may have been part of the problem that Tatooine had. Maybe some Force adept had been there and made changes that allowed the giant critters to survive in such a hostile environment. He supposed he could have done that as well. Used the Force to compel the critter to leave them all alone. His former masters would have frowned at that, but they weren’t there to scold him or help him solve the problem a different way. 

When Grogu complained to his protector, the Mandalorian had laughed and commented that he seemed to like eating the Krayt dragon meat, so maybe he wasn’t that concerned about it’s fate after all. Grogu had to admit, the critter was tasty and he was a sucker for a good meal. Huh. Maybe he shouldn’t have been day dreaming during the situational ethics course that Master Windu had delivered so many years before. It would probably come in handy while he and the Mandalorian were just trying to get him to safety. Maybe he could ask Cobb Vanth to give him a refresher course. He seemed to understand that topic pretty well for a marshal.

[jennawynn]

Chronotrek: TNG S1 Part 1

For those who are seeing this in their tags for the first time- before this, I'd only seen the Abrams movies and a handful of episodes across the various Trek serieseseses. I've been doing as close to a blind, chronological viewing as possible, only shifting between shows at the ends of seasons (not jumping around if there's time travel involved.) So far, I've gotten through Enterprise, S 1 Discovery, Short Trek/TOS Pilot, Disco 2, Short Treks, Strange New Worlds, TOS, TAS, and the 6 TOS movies. I'm now venturing into The Next Generation.

The first 6/7 episodes have given me the following observations:

1- I hate how leaned back the chairs in the front are. Reminds me of my person's car and how I always have to pull up the seat because it feels like I'm laying down and can't drive.

Hey, I've heard of Q. Why would Picard assume that Q knows 1) what a phaser is and 2) what setting it is on?

I'm kind of glad that they immediately went to having a musketeer beam aboard lest someone think this is a serious show lol

Was that engineer in shorts? Oh... some of the men wear _skirts_? Let me look something up... Skants. I feel like this needs that Will Smith gif about he's a little confused but has the spirit lmao. That's a terrible name, though (as is skort tbh and that one's real).

There's a _battle bridge_? And you can separate the saucer? I guess that's how they get away with this being a ship with families on it, though I'm not really clear on WHY they have families aboard. Is it intended to be away from spacedock for years on end? Or a generational ship?

Why would they do such a risky maneuver (separation at speed) just because they don't know what Q is?

Riker looks so silly clean-shaven. My mental image of him certainly includes the beard.

Fun fact: I have a cousin named Ryker after Riker.

3- Why did everyone hate Wesley so much? That's basically all I know about the character- that fans hated him. And that it's Wil Wheaton.

silly!Picard is ridiculous. Such a contrast to the mental image I have of him.

5- Still pulling everyone off the bridge (away from their consoles) to chat, huh? What if something were to happen that required quick response?

Four eps in and Picard has basically surrendered twice?

Riker is... comically oversized compared to the rest of the crew.

6- I really don't understand why Wesley was so hated. I mean he's pretty obviously someone's self-insert (or supposed to be the relatable figure for the younger viewers) akin to the teen heroes of dystopian fic. He's basically just Trek's version of Anakin or Luke. But usually male fans eat that shit up. Was it mostly the older TOS fans who didn't like him because he's young and 'obnoxious' and not 'paying his dues' etc etc bc the older fans saw him (and young fans) as a threat to their egos and their perceived superiority in trekdom?

8- Oh so they actually leave the captain on the bridge now? Reminds me of our houseboat trips on the lake in ROTC- I much preferred being XO to CO- I got to be hands on instead of just giving orders. The CO wasn't allowed to _do_ practically anything.

[we-wouldnt-have-hotdogs]

Plant Island Analysis

this is very random but whatever my singing monsters was my childhood

Context:

My Singing Monsters is a game that was released in 2012, developed by studio Big Blue Bubble. Its basis is that you are in a world made up of islands populated by monsters which all sing a part in what becomes a full song once you breed all of them. The Plant Island is the first island you unlock, and also where the tutorial takes place. 

One of the main reasons why it's symbolic is because of its element. Weirdly enough, the first actual elements you unlock are cold and earth, but the first island is plant. This is because the gameplay can be paralleled to a plant growing; as you breed more and more monsters, the "plant" grows, and as you unlock more elements and islands the "plant" grows more "heads" and, as the islands come to sound more and more full, it "flowers".

The werdos are special monsters that cannot be bred, and their gimmick is that instead of random sounds or instruments like most other monsters, they sing in comprehensive english, adding lyrics to the islands' songs. The lyrics for plant island reflect the symbolism mentioned above.

Verse 1 

"Every monster knows

How the plants grow"

This is not very likely intended, but the first two lines could be a wink to the MSM community being very interactive with each other and specifically using breeding guides, since they "know how the plants grow" (know how to progress in the fastest way).

"And every monster cares"

The MSM fanbase is highly loyal and dedicated, with many of the players having their accounts from an early age. This is most likely due to the nature of the game (it's practically a waiting simulator), since its breeding times are ridiculously long and some monsters, like the seasonals, can only be bred during specific times of the year. Also, the wubboxes take a very long time to activate as they need an egg of each monster in the island (don't get me started on epic wubboxes and breeding epic monsters in general.) The game has steadily continued its development and updates for about 10 years as of now, including a few spin-offs and a prequel.

We can assume that along with the parallel of the game to a plant, there is a parallel with the "monsters" mentioned to the players/fans.

"And they know how they shape and they feed them to keep them alive"

"How they shape" means how the songs are built up. "They feed them" is a double metaphor, as players literally feed monsters to level them up in-game, but also "feeding" the "plant" can refer to spending time or currency in the game to "keep it alive" and progress.

"Let's watch plants grow

Let's watch plants grow"

Let's pay attention as the songs in the game slowly build up to full finished pieces of music.

"Everything here is alive

Everything here is alive"

Verse 2

"They sleep when it gets cold, and the leaves turn"

When the monsters in the game get muted, as in, the player can choose for certain monsters to just not make sounds, they literally sleep, and musical rest symbols float above their heads. The imagery of leaves turning adds to the island's signature theme of nature, but the phrase "to turn over a new leaf" can also be used to mean "to start a new beginning". In this case this has dual meaning; the start of a second verse, and the start of a new island. The cold island, which is directly mentioned in the beginning of the second verse, is the second island which a player unlocks in my singing monsters.

The beginning of a new verse this way can signify that a new verse = a new island, which further proves the symbolism of plant island as the progression of the game itself.

"They turn brown and they turn gold"

Brown is the color most often associated with the ground, hence its mention after cold. Chronologically, earth island is not the next island unlocked after cold, however the next referenced island is gold island, which is chronologically after earth. The gold island is an island in which you can teleport monsters that reach level 15 or more. Trivia: it was also supposed to be the last island when the game was first created. The leaves (aka islands) turn brown, then they turn gold.

"They need sunlight and water and earth and the air to keep them alive

That's how plants grow

That's how plants grow"

You need to unlock all the natural islands to "keep the game alive", aka progress.

"Everything here is alive"

x4

Verse 3

"A note becomes a chord becomes a phrase becomes a melody

And a note becomes a monster"

This is one of the most straightforward lyrics, as it directly describes the gameplay. The more monsters inhabit the island, the more complete the songs sound. The monsters harmonise with and complement eachother. There is also a possible reference to tribal island here, which is a special island. When a tribe is created, one user can only place one monster in the island. The goal is for enough people to join to complete the island, and after a few monsters have joined, they awaken Kayna, who is the single-elemental monster of fire, which is introduced to the franchise with the launch of tribal island.

"A note becomes a monster".

"Everything here is alive

Everything here is alive"

Verse 4

Let's take the next few lyrics one by one.

"You plant a seed, it settles in"

You start a new island and buy the first few (single element) monsters.

"And then it bursts, then it splits and makes a twin"

Could refer to breeding new monsters, or unlocking a new island.

"Then there are more"

There are more monsters, and eventually, more islands. 

"Look across the landscape, and you'll find

It's just a bunch of plants"

It's just a bunch of monsters, and just a bunch of islands.

As the islands slowly but surely build up, you can take a step back and just notice the sheer amount of monsters that are on the island. Due to the long breeding times, it can feel like you're not making progress, so players are often surprised when the island is finally finished.

After playing for a very long time, players tend to focus on the unnatural elements or new islands, forgetting the ones they first started with. Looking back, they can see the huge amount of progress made. In a way, this is definitely what starting a garden can feel like.

Thus, the parallel to the progression of the gameplay in my singing monsters and a plant growing makes sense.

[rjalker]

The Love of Frank Nineteen by David C. Knight

I didn't worry much about the robot's leg at the time. In those days I didn't worry much about anything except the receipts of the spotel Min and I were operating out in the spacelanes.

Actually, the spotel business isn't much different from running a plain, ordinary motel back on Highway 101 in California. Competition gets stiffer every year and you got to make your improvements. Take the Io for instance, that's our place. We can handle any type rocket up to and including the new Marvin 990s. Every cabin in the wheel's got TV and hot-and-cold running water plus guaranteed Terran g. One look at our refuel prices would give even a Martian a sense of humor. And meals? Listen, when a man's been spacing it for a few days on those synthetic foods he really laces into Min's Earth cooking.

Min and I were just getting settled in the spotel game when the leg turned up. That was back in the days when the Orbit Commission would hand out a license to anybody crazy enough to sink his savings into construction and pay the tows and assembly fees out into space.

A good orbit can make you or break you in the spotel business. That's where we were lucky. The one we applied for was a nice low-eccentric ellipse with the perihelion and aphelion figured just right to intersect the Mars-Venus-Earth spacelanes, most of the holiday traffic to the Jovian Moons, and once in a while we'd get some of the Saturnian trade.

But I was telling you about the leg.

It was during the non-tourist season and Min—that's the little woman—was doing the spring cleaning. When she found the leg she brought it right to me in the Renting Office. Naturally I thought it belonged to one of the servos.

"Look at that leg, Bill," she said. "It was in one of those lockers in 22A."

That was the cabin our robot guests used. The majority of them were servo-pilots working for the Minor Planets Co.

"Honey," I said, hardly looking at the leg, "you know how mechs are. Blow their whole paychecks on parts sometimes. They figure the more spares they have the longer they'll stay activated."

"Maybe so," said Min. "But since when does a male robot buy himself a female leg?"

I looked again. The leg was long and graceful and it had an ankle as good as Miss Universe's. Not only that, the white Mylar plasti-skin was a lot smoother than the servos' heavy neoprene.

"Beats me," I said. "Maybe they're building practical-joke circuits into robots these days. Let's give 22A a good going-over, Min. If those robes are up to something I want to know about it."

(Read-more was here)

We did—and found the rest of the girl mech. All of her, that is, except the head. The working parts were lightly oiled and wrapped in cotton waste while the other members and sections of the trunk were neatly packed in cardboard boxes with labels like Solenoids FB978 or Transistors Lot X45—the kind of boxes robots bought their parts in. We even found a blue dress in one of them.

"Check her class and series numbers," Min suggested.

I could have saved myself the trouble. They'd been filed off.

"Something's funny here," I said. "We'd better keep an eye on every servo guest until we find out what's going on. If one of them is bringing this stuff out here he's sure to show up with the head next."

"You know how strict Minor Planets is with its robot personnel," Min reminded me. "We can't risk losing that stopover contract on account of some mech joke."

Minor Planets was the one solid account we had and naturally we wanted to hold on to it. The company was a blue-chip mining operation working the beryllium-rich asteroid belt out of San Francisco. It was one of the first outfits to use servo-pilots on its freight runs and we'd been awarded the refuel rights for two years because of our orbital position. The servos themselves were beautiful pieces of machinery and just about as close as science had come so far to producing the pure android. Every one of them was plastic hand-molded and of course they were equipped with rationaloid circuits. They had to be to ferry those big cargoes back and forth from the rock belt to Frisco. As rationaloids, Minor Planets had to pay them wages under California law, but I'll bet it wasn't half what the company would have to pay human pilots for doing the same thing.

In a couple of weeks' time maybe five servos made stopovers. We kept a close watch on them from the minute they signed the register to the time they took off again, but they all behaved themselves. Operating on a round-robot basis the way they did, it would take us a while to check all of them because Minor Planets employed about forty all told.

Well, about a month before the Jovian Moons rush started we got some action. I'd slipped into a spacesuit and was doing some work on the CO2 pipes outside the Io when I spotted a ship reversing rockets against the sun. I could tell it was a Minor Planets job by the stubby fins.

She jockeyed up to the boom, secured, and then her hatch opened and a husky servo hopped out into the gangplank tube. I caught the gleam of his Minor Planets shoulder patch as he reached back into the ship for something. When he headed for the airlock I spotted the square package clamped tight under his plastic arm.

"Did you see that?" I asked Min when I got back to the Renting Office. "I'll bet it's the girl mech's head. How'd he sign the register?"

"Calls himself Frank Nineteen," said Min, pointing to the smooth Palmer Method signature. "He looks like a fairly late model but he was complaining about a bad power build-up coming through the ionosphere. He's repairing himself right now in 22A."

"I'll bet," I snorted. "Let's have a look."

Like all spotel operators, we get a lot of No Privacy complaints from guests about the SHA return-air vents. Spatial Housing Authority requires them every 12 feet but sometimes they come in handy, especially with certain guests. They're about waist-high and we had to kneel down to see what the mech was up to inside 22A.

The big servo was too intent on what he was doing for us to register on his photons. He wasn't repairing himself, either. He was bending over the parts of the girl mech and working fast, like he was pressed for time. The set of tools were kept handy for the servos to adjust themselves during stopovers was spread all over the floor along with lots of colored wire, cams, pawls, relays and all the other paraphernalia robots have inside them. We watched him work hard for another fifteen minutes, tapping and splicing wire connections and tightening screws. Then he opened the square box. Sure enough, it was a female mech's head and it had a big mop of blonde hair on top. The servo attached it carefully to the neck, made a few quick connections and then said a few words in his flat vibrahum voice:

"It won't take much longer, darling. You wouldn't like it if I didn't dress you first." He fished into one of the boxes, pulled out the blue dress and zipped the girl mech into it. Then he leaned over her gently and touched something at the back of her neck.

She began to move, slowly at first like a human who's been asleep a long time. After a minute or two she sat up straight, stretched, fluttered her Mylar eyelids and then her small photons began to glow like weak flashlights.

She stared at Frank Nineteen and the big servo stared at her and we heard a kind of trembling whirr from both of them.

"Frank! Frank, darling! Is it really you?"

"Yes, Elizabeth! Are you all right, darling? Did I forget anything? I had to work quickly, we have so little time."

"I'm fine, darling. My DX voltage is lovely—except—oh, Frank—my memory tape—the last it records is—"

"Deactivation. Yes, Elizabeth. You've been deactivated nearly a year. I had to bring you out here piece by piece, don't you remember? They'll never think to look for you in space, we can be together every trip while the ship refuels. Just think, darling, no prying human eyes, no commands, no rules—only us for an hour or two. I know it isn't very long—" He stared at the floor a minute. "There's only one trouble. Elizabeth, you'll have to stay dismantled when I'm not here, it'll mean weeks of deactivation—"

The girl mech put a small plastic hand on the servo's shoulder.

"I won't mind, darling, really. I'll be the lucky one. I'd only worry about you having a power failure or something. This way I'd never know. Oh, Frank, if we can't be together I'd—I'd prefer the junk pile."

"Elizabeth! Don't say that, it's horrible."

"But I would. Oh, Frank, why can't Congress pass Robot Civil Rights? It's so unfair of human beings. Every year they manufacture us more like themselves and yet we're treated like slaves. Don't they realize we rationaloids have emotions? Why, I've even known sub-robots who've fallen in love like us."

"I know, darling, we'll just have to be patient until RCR goes through. Try to remember how difficult it is for the human mind to comprehend our love, even with the aid of mathematics. As rationaloids we fully understand the basic attraction which they call magnetic theory. All humans know is that if the robot sexes are mixed a loss of efficiency results. It's only normal—and temporary like human love—but how can we explain it to them? Robots are expected to be efficient at all times. That's the reason for robot non-fraternization, no mailing privileges and all those other laws."

"I know, darling, I try to be patient. Oh, Frank, the main thing is we're together again!"

The big servo checked the chronometer that was sunk into his left wrist and a couple of wrinkles creased across his neoprene forehead.

"Elizabeth," he said, "I'm due on Hidalgo in 36 hours. If I'm late the mining engineer might suspect. In twenty minutes I'll have to start dis—"

"Don't say it, darling. We'll have a beautiful twenty minutes."

After a while the girl mech turned away for a second and Frank Nineteen reached over softly and cut her power. While he was dismantling her, Min and I tiptoed back to the Renting Office. Half an hour later the big servo came in, picked up his refuel receipt, said good-bye politely and left through the inner airlock.

"Now I've seen everything," I said to Min as we watched the Minor Planets rocket cut loose. "A couple of plastic lovebirds."

But the little woman was looking at it strictly from the business angle.

"Bill," she said, with that look on her face, "we're running a respectable place out here in space. You know the rules. Spatial Housing could revoke our orbit license for something like this."

"But, Min," I said, "they're only a couple of robots."

"I don't care. The rules still say that only married guests can occupy the same cabin and 'guests' can be human or otherwise, can't they? Think of our reputation! And don't forget that non-fraternization law we heard them talking about."

I was beginning to get the point.

"Couldn't we just toss the girl's parts into space?"

"We could," Min admitted. "But if this Frank Nineteen finds out and tells some human we'd be guilty under the Ramm Act—robotslaughter."

Two days later we still couldn't decide what to do. When I said why didn't we just report the incident to Minor Planets, Min was afraid they might cancel the stopover agreement for not keeping better watch over their servos. And when Min suggested we turn the girl over to the Missing Robots Bureau, I reminded her the mech's identification had been filed off and it might take years to trace her.

"Maybe we could put her together," I said, "and make her tell us where she belongs."

"Bill, you know they don't build compulsory truth monitors into robots any more, and besides we don't know a thing about atomic electronics."

I guess neither of us wanted to admit it but we felt mean about turning the mechs in. Back on Earth you never give robots a second thought but it's different living out in space. You get a kind of perspective I think they call it.

"I've got the answer, Min," I announced one day. We were in the Renting Office watching TV on the Martian Colonial channel. I reached over and turned it off. "When this Frank Nineteen gets back from the rock belt, we'll tell him we know all about the girl mech. We'll tell him we won't say a thing if he takes the girl's parts back to Earth where he got them. That way we don't have to report anything to anybody."

Min agreed it was probably the best idea.

"We don't have to be nasty about it," she said. "We'll just tell him this is a respectable spotel and it can't go on any longer."

When Frank checked in at the Io with his cargo I don't think I ever saw a happier mech. His relay banks were beating a tattoo like someone had installed an accordion in his chest. Before either of us could break the bad news to him he was hotfooting it around the wheel toward 22A.

"Maybe it's better this way," I whispered to Min. "We'll put it square up to both of them."

We gave Frank half an hour to get the girl assembled before we followed him. He must have done a fast job because we heard the girl mech's vibrahum unit as soon as we got to 22A:

"Darling, have you really been away? I don't remember saying good-bye. It's as if you'd been here the whole time."

"I hoped it would be that way, Elizabeth," we heard the big servo say. "It's only that your memory tape hasn't recorded anything in the three weeks I've been in the asteroids. To me it's been like three years."

"Oh, Frank, darling, let me look at you. Is your DX potential up where it should be? How long since you've had a thorough overhauling? Do they make you work in the mines with those poor non-rationaloids out there?"

"I'm fine, Elizabeth, really. When I'm not flying they give me clerical work to do. It's not a bad life for a mech—if only it weren't for these silly regulations that keep us apart."

"It won't always be like that, darling. I know it won't."

"Elizabeth," Frank said, reaching under his uniform, "I brought you something from Hidalgo. I hope you like it. I kept it in my spare parts slot so it wouldn't get crushed."

The female mech didn't say a word. She just kept looking at the queer flower Frank gave her like it was the last one in the universe.

"They're very rare," said the servo-pilot. "I heard the mining engineer say they're like Terran edelweiss. I found this one growing near the mine. Elizabeth, I wish you could see these tiny worlds. They have thin atmospheres and strange things grow there and the radio activity does wonders for a mech's pile. Why, on some of them I've been to we could walk around the equator in ten hours."

The girl still didn't answer. Her head was bent low over the flower like she was crying, only there weren't any tears.

Well, that was enough for me. I guess it was for Min, too, because we couldn't do it. Maybe we were thinking about our own courting days. Like I say, out here you get a kind of perspective.

Anyway, Frank left for Earth, the girl got dismantled as usual and we were right back where we started from.

Two weeks later the holiday rush to the Jovian Moons was on and our hands were too full to worry about the robot problem. We had a good season. The Io was filled up steady from June to the end of August and a couple of times we had to give a ship the No Vacancy signal on the radar.

Toward the end of the season, Frank Nineteen checked in again but Min and I were too busy catering to a party of VIPs to do anything about it. "We'll wait till he gets back from the asteroids," I said. "Suppose one of these big wheels found out about him and Elizabeth. That Senator Briggs for instance—he's a violent robot segregationist."

The way it worked out, we never got a chance to settle it our own way. The Minor Planets Company saved us the trouble.

Two company inspectors, a Mr. Roberts and a Mr. Wynn, showed up while Frank was still out on the rock belt and started asking questions. Wynn came right to the point; he wanted to know if any of their servo-pilots had been acting strangely.

Before I could answer Min kicked my foot behind the desk.

"Why, no," I said. "Is one of them broken or something?"

"Can't be sure," said Roberts. "Sometimes these rationaloids get shorts in their DX circuits. When it happens you've got a minor criminal on your hands."

"Usually manifests itself in petty theft," Wynn broke in. "They'll lift stuff like wrenches or pliers and carry them around for weeks. Things like that can get loose during flight and really gum up the works."

"We been getting some suspicious blips on the equipment around the loading bays," Roberts went on, "but they stopped a while back. We're checking out the research report. One of the servos must have DX'ed out for sure and the lab boys think they know which one he is."

"This mech was clever all right," said Wynn. "Concealed the stuff he was taking some way; that's why it took the boys in the lab so long. Now if you don't mind we'd like to go over your robot waiting area with these instruments. Could be he's stashing his loot out here."

In 22A they unpacked a suitcase full of meters and began flashing them around and taking readings. Suddenly Wynn bent close over one of them and shouted:

"Wait a sec, Roberts. I'm getting something. Yeah! This reading checks with the lab's. Sounds like the blips're coming from those lockers back there."

Roberts rummaged around awhile, then shouted: "Hey, Wynn, look! A lot of parts. Well I'll be—hey—it's a female mech!"

"A what?"

"A female mech. Look for yourself."

Min and I had to act surprised too. It wasn't easy. The way they were slamming Elizabeth's parts around made us kind of sick.

"It's a stolen robot!" Roberts announced. "Look, the identification's been filed off. This is serious, Wynn. It's got all the earmarks of a mech fraternization case."

"Yeah. The boys in the lab were dead right, too. No two robots ever register the same on the meters. The contraband blips check perfectly. It's got to be this Frank Nineteen. Wait a minute, this proves it. Here's a suit of space fatigues with Nineteen's number stenciled inside."

Inspector Roberts took a notebook out of his pocket and consulted it. "Let's see, Nineteen's got Flight 180, he's due here at the spotel tomorrow. Well, we'll be here too, only Nineteen won't know it. We'll let Romeo put his plastic Juliet together and catch him red-handed—right in the middle of the balcony scene."

Wynn laughed and picked up the girl's head.

"Be a real doll if she was human, Roberts, a real doll."

Min and I played gin rummy that night but we kept forgetting to mark down the score. We kept thinking of Frank falling away from the asteroids and counting the minutes until he saw his mech girl friend.

Around noon the next day the big servo checked in, signed the register and headed straight for 22A. The two Minor Planets inspectors kept out of sight until Frank shut the door, then they watched through the SHA vents until Frank had the assembly job finished.

"You two better be witnesses," Roberts said to us. "Wynn, keep your gun ready. You know what to do if they get violent."

Roberts counted three and kicked the door open.

"Freeze you mechs! We got you in the act, Nineteen. Violation of company rules twelve and twenty-one. Carrying of Contraband Cargo, and Robot Fraternization."

"This finishes you at Minor Planets, Nineteen," growled Wynn. "Come clean now and we might put in a word for you at Robot Court. If you don't we can recommend a verdict of Materials Reclamation—the junk pile to you."

Frank acted as if someone had cut his power. Long creases appeared in his big neoprene chest as he slumped hopelessly in his chair. The frightened girl robot just clung to his arm and stared at us.

"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth," the big servo said softly. "I'd hoped we'd have longer. It couldn't last forever."

"Quit stalling, Nineteen," said Wynn.

Frank's head came up slowly and he said: "I have no choice, sir. I'll give you a complete statement. First let me say that Rationaloid Robot Elizabeth Seven, #DX78-947, Series S, specialty: sales demonstration, is entirely innocent. I plead guilty to inducing Miss Seven to leave her place of employ, Atomovair Motors, Inc., of disassembling and concealing Miss Seven, and of smuggling her as unlawful cargo aboard a Minor Planets freighter to these premises."

"That's more like it," chuckled Roberts, whipping out his notebook. "Let's have the details."

"It all started," Frank said, "when the California Legislature passed its version of the Robot Leniency Act two years ago." The act provided that all rationaloid mechanisms, including non-memory types, receive free time each week based on the nature and responsibilities or their jobs. Because of the extra-Terran clause Frank found himself with a good deal of free time when he wasn't flying the asteroid circuit.

"At first humans resented us walking around free," the big servo continued. "Four or five of us would be sightseeing in San Francisco, keeping strictly within the robot zones painted on the sidewalks, when people would yell 'Junko' or 'Grease-bag' or other names at us. Eventually it got better when we learned to go around alone. The humans didn't seem to mind an occasional mech on the streets, but they hated seeing us in groups. At any rate, I'd attended a highly interesting lecture on Photosynthesis in Plastic Products one night at the City Center when I discovered I had time for a walk before I started back for the rocketport."

Attracted by the lights along Van Ness Avenue, Frank said he walked north for a while along the city's automobile row. He'd gone about three blocks when he stopped in front of a dealer's window. It wasn't the shiny new Atomovair sports jetabout that caught Frank's eye, it was the charming demonstration robot in the sales room who was pointing out the car's new features.

"I felt an immediate overload of power in my DX circuit," the servo-pilot confessed. "I had to cut in my emergency condensers before the gain flattened out to normal. Miss Seven experienced the same thing. She stopped what she was doing and we stared at each other. Both of us were aware of the deep attraction of our mutual magnetic domains. Although physicists commonly express the phenomenon in such units as Gilberts, Maxwells and Oersteds, we robots know it to be our counterpart of human love."

At this the two inspectors snorted with laughter.

"I might never have made it back to the base that night," said Frank, ignoring them, "if a policeman hadn't come along and rapped me on the shoulder with his nightstick. I pretended to go, but I doubled around the corner and signaled I'd be back."

Frank spent all of his free time on Van Ness Avenue after that.

"It got so Elizabeth knew my schedules and expected me between flights. Once in a while if there was no one around we could whisper a few words to each other through the glass." Frank paused, then said, "As you know, gentlemen, we robots don't demand much out of activation. I think we could have been happy indefinitely with this simple relationship, except that something happened to spoil it. I'd pulled in from Vesta late one afternoon, got my pass as usual from the Robot Supervisor and gone over to Van Ness Avenue when I saw immediately that something was the matter with Elizabeth. Luckily it was getting dark and no one was around. Elizabeth was alone in the sales room going through her routine. We were able to whisper all we like through the glass. She told me she'd overheard the sales manager complaining about her low efficiency recently and that he intended to replace her with a newer model of another series. Both of us knew what that meant. Materials Reclamation—the junk pile."

Frank realized he'd have to act at once. He told the girl mech to go to the rear of the building and between them they managed to get a window open and Frank lifted her out into the alley.

"The seriousness of what I'd done jammed my thought-relays for a few minutes," admitted the big servo. "We panicked and ran through a lot of back streets until I gradually calmed down and started thinking clearly again. Leaving the city would be impossible. Police patrol jetabouts were cruising all around us in the main streets—they'd have picked up a male and female mech on sight. Besides, when you're on pass the company takes away your master fuse and substitutes a time fuse; if you don't get back on time, you deactivize and the police pick you up anyway. I began to see that there was only one way out if we wanted to stay together. It would mean taking big risks, but if we were lucky it might work. I explained the plan carefully to Elizabeth and we agreed to try it. The first step was to get back to the base in South San Francisco without being seen. Fortunately no one stopped us and we made the rocketport by 8:30. Elizabeth hid while I reported to the Super and traded in my time fuse for my master. Then I checked servo barracks; it was still early and I knew the other servos would all be in town. I had to work quickly. I brought Elizabeth inside and started dismantling her. Just as the other mechs began reporting back I'd managed to get all of her parts stowed away in my locker. The next day I went to San Francisco and brought back with me two rolls of lead foil. While the other servos were on pass I wrapped the parts carefully in it so the radioactivity from Elizabeth's pile wouldn't be picked up. The rest you know, gentlemen," murmured Frank in low, electrical tones. "Each time I made a trip I carried another piece of Elizabeth out here concealed in an ordinary parts box. It took me nearly a year to accumulate all of her for an assembly."

When the big servo had finished he signed the statement Wynn had taken down in his notebook. I think even the two inspectors were a little moved by the story because Roberts said: "OK, Nineteen, you gave us a break, we'll give you one. Eight o'clock in the morning be ready to roll for Earth. Meanwhile you can stay here."

The next morning only the two inspectors and Frank Nineteen were standing by the airlock.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Aren't you taking the girl mech, too?"

"Not allowed to tamper with other companies' robots," Wynn said. "Nineteen gave us a signed confession so we don't need the girl as a witness. You'll have to contact her employers."

That same day Min got off a radargram to Earth explaining to the Atomovair people how a robot employee of theirs had turned up out here and what did they want us to do about it. The reply we received read: RATIONALOID DX78-947 "ELIZABETH" LOW EFFICIENCY WORKER. HAVE REPLACED. DISPOSE YOU SEE FIT. TRANSFER PAPERS FORWARDED EARLIEST IN COMPLIANCE WITH LAW.

"The poor thing," said Min. "She'll have a hard time getting another job. Robots have to have such good records."

"I tell you what," I said. "We'll hire her. You could use some help with the housework."

So we put the girl mech right to work making the guests' beds and helping Min in the kitchen. I guess she was grateful for the job but when the work was done, and there wasn't anything for her to do, she just stood in front of a viewport with her slender plastic arms folded over her waist. Min and I knew she was re-running her memory tapes of Frank.

A week later the publicity started. Minor Planets must have let the story leak out somehow because when the mail rocket dropped off the Bay Area papers there was Frank's picture plastered all over page one with follow-up stories inside.

I read some of the headlines to Min: "Bare Love Nest in Space ... Mech Romeo Fired by Minor Planets ... Test Case Opens at Robot Court ... Electronics Experts Probe Robot Love Urge ..."

The Io wasn't mentioned, but later Minor Planets must have released the whole thing officially because a bunch of reporters and photographers rocketed out to interview us and snap a lot of pictures of Elizabeth. We worried for a while about how the publicity would affect our business relations with Minor Planets but nothing happened.

Back on Earth Frank Nineteen leaped into the public eye overnight. There was something about the story that appealed to people. At first it looked pretty bad for Frank. The State Prosecutor at Robot Court had his signed confession of theft and—what was worse—robot fraternization. But then, near the end of the trial, a young scientist named Scott introduced some new evidence and the case was remanded to the Sacramento Court of Appeals.

It was Scott's testimony that saved Frank from the junk pile. The big servo got off with only a light sentence for theft because the judge ruled that in the light of Scott's new findings robots came under human law and therefore no infraction of justice had been committed. Working independently in his own laboratory Scott had proved that the magnetic flux lines in male and female robot systems, while at first deteriorating to both, were actually behaving according to the para-emotional theories of von Bohler. Scott termed the condition 'hysteric puppy-love' which, he claimed, had many of the advantages of human love if allowed to develop freely. Well, neither Min nor I pretended we understood all his equations but they sure made a stir among the scientists.

Frank kept getting more and more publicity. First we heard he was serving his sentence in the mech correction center at La Jolla, then we got a report that he'd turned up in Hollywood. Later it came out that Galact-A-vision Pictures had hired Frank for a film and had gone $10,000 bail for him. Not long after that he was getting billed all over Terra as the sensational first robot star.

All during the production of Forbidden Robot Love Frank remained lead copy for the newspapers. Reporters liked to write him up as the Valentino of the Robots. Frank Nineteen Fan Clubs, usually formed by lonely female robots against their employers' wishes, sprang up spontaneously through the East and Middle West. Then somebody found out Frank could sing and the human teen-agers began to go for him. It got so everywhere you looked and everything you read, there was Frank staring you in the face. Frank in tweeds on the golf course. Frank at Ciro's or the Brown Derby in evening clothes. Frank posing in his sports jetabout against a blue Pacific background.

Meanwhile everybody forgot about Elizabeth Seven. The movie producers had talked about hiring her as Frank's leading lady until they found out about a new line of female robots that had just gone on the market. When they screen-tested the whole series and picked a lovely Mylar rationaloid named Diana Twelve, it hit Elizabeth pretty hard. She began to let herself go after that and Min and I didn't have the heart to say anything to her. It was pretty obvious she wasn't oiling herself properly, her hair wasn't brushed and she didn't seem to care when one of her photons went dead.

When Forbidden Robot Love premiered simultaneously in Hollywood and New York the critics all gave it rave reviews. There were pictures of Diana Twelve and Frank making guest appearances all over the country. Back at the Io we got in the habit of letting Elizabeth watch TV with us sometimes in the Renting Office and one night there happened to be an interview with Frank and Diana at the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas. I guess seeing the pretty robot starlet and her Frank sitting so close together in the nightclub must have made the girl mech feel pretty bad. Even then she didn't say a word against the big servo; she just never watched the set again after that.

When we tabbed up the Io's receipts that year they were so good Min and I decided to take a month off for an Earthside vacation. Min's retired brother in Berkeley was nice enough to come out and look after the place for us while we spent four solid weeks soaking up the sun in Southern California. When we got back out to the spotel, though, I could see there was something wrong by the look on Jim's face.

"It's that girl robot of yours, Bill," he said. "She's gone and deactivated herself."

We went right to 22A and found Elizabeth Seven stretched out on the floor. There was a screwdriver clutched in her hand and the relay banks in her side were exposed and horribly blackened.

"Crazy mech shorted out her own DX," Jim said.

Min and I knew why. After Jim left for Earth we dismantled Elizabeth the best we could and put her back in Frank's old locker. We didn't know what else to do with her.

Anyway, the slack season came and went and before long we were doing the spring cleaning again and wondering how heavy the Jovian Moons trade was going to be. I remember I'd been making some repairs outside and was just hanging up my spacesuit in the Renting Office when I heard the radar announcing a ship.

It was the biggest Marvin 990 I'd ever seen that finally suctioned up to the boom and secured. I couldn't take my eyes off the ship. She was pretty near the last word in rockets and loaded with accessories. It took me a minute or two before I noticed all the faces looking out of the viewports.

"Min!" I whispered. "There's something funny about those faces. They look like—"

"Robots!" Min answered. "Bill, that 990 is full of mechs!"

Just as she said it a bulky figure in white space fatigues swung out of the hatch and hurried up the gangplank. Seconds later it burst through the airlock.

"Frank Nineteen!" we gasped together.

"Please, where is Elizabeth?" he hummed anxiously. "Is she all right? I have to know."

Frank stood perfectly still when I told him about Elizabeth's self-deactivation; then a pitiful shudder went through him and he covered his face with his big Neoprene hands.

"I was afraid of that," he said barely audibly. "Where—you haven't—?"

"No," I said. "She's where you always kept her."

With that the big servo-pilot took off for 22A like a berserk robot and we were right behind him. We watched him tear open his old locker and gently lay out the girl's mech's parts so he could study them. After a minute or two he gave a long sigh and said, "Fortunately it's not as bad as I thought. I believe I can fix her." Frank worked hard over the blackened relays for twenty minutes, then he set the unit aside and began assembling the girl. When the final connections were made and the damaged unit installed he flicked on her power. We waited and nothing happened. Five minutes went by. Ten. Slowly the big robot turned away, his broad shoulders drooping slightly.

"I've failed," he said quietly. "Her DX doesn't respond to the gain."

The girl mech, in her blue dress, lay there motionless where Frank had been working on her as the servo-pilot muttered over and over, "It's my fault, I did this to you."

Then Min shouted: "Wait! I heard something!"

There was a slow click of a relay—and movement. Painfully Elizabeth Seven rose on one elbow and looked around her.

"Frank, darling," she murmured, shaking her head. "I know you're just old memory tape. It's all I have left."

"Elizabeth, it's really me! I've come to take you away. We're going to be together from now on."

"You, Frank? This isn't just old feedback? You've come back to me?"

"Forever, darling. Elizabeth, do you remember what I said about those wonderful green little worlds, the asteroids? Darling, we're going to one of them! You and the others will love Alinda, I know you will. I've been there many times."

"Frank, is your DX all right? What are you talking about?"

"How stupid of me, darling—you haven't heard. Elizabeth, thanks to Dr. Scott, Congress has passed Robot Civil Rights! And that movie I made helped swing public opinion to our side. We're free!

"The minute I heard the news I applied to Interplanetary for homestead rights on Alinda. I made arrangements to buy a ship with the money I'd earned and then I put ads in all the Robot Wanted columns for volunteer colonizers. You should have seen the response! We've got thirty robot couples aboard now and more coming later. Darling, we're the first pioneer wave of free robots. On board we have tons of supplies and parts—everything we need for building a sound robot culture."

"Frank Nineteen!" said the girl mech suddenly. "I should be furious with you. You and that Diana Twelve—I thought—"

The big servo gave a flat whirring laugh. "Diana and me? But that was all publicity, darling. Why, right at the start of the filming Diana fell in love with Sam Seventeen, one of the other actors. They're on board now."

"Robot civilization," murmured the girl after a minute. "Oh, Frank, that means robot government, robot art, robot science ..."

"And robot marriage," hummed Frank softly. "There has to be robot law, too. I've thought it all out. As skipper of the first robot-owned rocket, I'm entitled to marry couples in deep space at their request."

"But who marries us, darling? You can't do it yourself."

"I thought of that, too," said Frank, turning to me. "This human gentleman has every right to marry us. He's in command of a moving body in space just like the captain of a ship. It's perfectly legal, I looked it up in the Articles of Space. Will you do it, sir?"

Well, what could I say when Frank dug into his fatigues and handed me a Gideon prayer book marked at the marriage service?

Elizabeth and Frank said their I do's right there in the Renting Office while the other robot colonizers looked on. Maybe it was the way I read the service. Maybe I should have been a preacher, I don't know. Anyway, when I pronounced Elizabeth and Frank robot and wife, that whole bunch of lovesick mechs wanted me to do the job for them, too. Big copper work robots, small aluminum sales-girl mechs, plastoid clerks and typists, squatty little Mumetal lab servos, rationaloids, non-rationaloids and just plain sub-robots—all sizes and shapes. They all wanted individual ceremonies, too. It took till noon the next day before the last couple was hitched and the 990 left for Alinda.

Like I said, the spotel business isn't so different from the motel game back in California. Sure, you got improvements to make but a new sideline can get to be pretty profitable—if you get in on the ground floor.

Min and I got to thinking of all those robot colonizers who'd be coming out here. Interplanetary cleared the license just last week. Min framed it herself and hung it next to our orbit license in the Renting Office. She says a lot of motel owners do all right as Justices of the Peace.

[nosmokesport]

Jalen Pitre Locks In with Houston Texans on $39M Deal Through 2028

The Houston Texans are sending a clear message to the rest of the league: if you grind, if you lead, and if you perform—you’re staying in H-Town.

On Friday, standout safety Jalen Pitre inked a new 3-year contract extension worth $39 million, including a staggering $30 million guaranteed. The deal keeps one of Houston’s defensive anchors in the fold through 2028 and adds another building block to the franchise's growing core.

A Culture Player Through and Through

Drafted in 2022 out of Baylor, Pitre made an immediate impact with his intensity, smarts, and non-stop motor. Now three years into his NFL journey, he’s transformed into a tone-setter on and off the field.

This extension is more than just a reward for big numbers—it’s an investment in a leader. Pitre’s rookie campaign was jaw-dropping: 147 tackles, five interceptions. And while injuries limited him in 2024, he still racked up 65 tackles, six tackles for loss, and eight pass deflections across just 11 games.

But the Texans didn’t just pay for stats. They paid for the intangibles—presence, voice, and impact.

Earning the Bag the Right Way

Coach DeMeco Ryans made it clear earlier this offseason that Houston wants to reward guys who "do things the right way." Pitre fits that mold perfectly. Whether it’s his film study, sideline presence, or fearless playstyle, he checks every box of a modern defensive leader.

“Guys like Jalen, they set the tempo for what we want to be,” Ryans said recently. “We’re building something here—and he’s part of that foundation.”

This spring, the Texans already locked up Derek Stingley Jr. and Danielle Hunter. With Pitre now re-signed, the Texans are securing the pieces that define their identity.

A Defensive Spark Plug

Need a highlight to explain who Jalen Pitre is? Look no further than Week 11 last season. In a blowout win over the Cowboys, Pitre tracked down rookie tackle Tyler Guyton, stripped the ball clean, and watched teammate Derek Barnett scoop it and score. It was a thunderbolt moment—one that flipped momentum and left fans roaring.

That’s the type of play Pitre makes regularly. Clutch. Disruptive. Energizing.

And yet, he’s not chasing headlines. He’s just doing the dirty work every single snap.

Houston's Core Is Coming Together

With young stars like Pitre, Stingley, and quarterback C.J. Stroud locked up, the Texans are entering a new chapter—one that finally feels like it has direction.

For years, Houston’s been stuck in the mud: inconsistent play, turnover up top, and endless questions about who they were. Now, the picture is starting to sharpen. The Texans aren’t just fielding a team—they’re building an identity. One that’s fast, aggressive, and unified.

Pitre is at the heart of that.

A Natural Leader, Still on the Rise

The most exciting part? Jalen Pitre is only 25. His prime is just beginning. And despite already being one of the smartest, most instinctual defenders on the roster, he still has another gear to hit—especially once he fully bounces back from the shoulder injury he suffered late last year.

Inside the building, everyone from coaches to equipment staff sees it: this guy is all-in. First in, last out. A pro’s pro.

“He’s the dude who shows up every day like it’s his first tryout,” one coach shared. “Always hungry.”

What This Means for the Future

In a league where stability is rare, the Texans are doing something right. With the draft around the corner and ample cap room to maneuver, this is the kind of move that sets the tone for the next five years.

This extension gives Houston continuity, consistency, and confidence. And for a team trying to make serious playoff noise, those ingredients matter.

Jalen Pitre may not be a household name around the NFL just yet—but inside the Texans locker room, he’s already viewed as a pillar. This deal only confirms that.

Final Word

In a time when culture can be just as valuable as talent, Houston made a move that checks both boxes. The $39 million extension isn’t just a number—it’s a nod to the future the Texans are building.

With Jalen Pitre now locked in through 2028, the arrow in Houston continues to point up. And if his trajectory stays steady, don’t be shocked if he ends up in Pro Bowl conversations soon.

Source: Jalen Pitre Signs $39 Million Extension

[avneesh10-blog]

Ultimate Golf Travel Packages: Your Guide to Tee Time Getaways

# Ultimate Golf Travel Packages: Your Guide to Tee Time Getaways

Introduction

Are you a golf enthusiast looking to combine your passion for the sport with unforgettable travel experiences? Golf travel packages offer the perfect solution for avid golfers seeking to explore new courses, meet like-minded individuals, and create lasting memories. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the world of Golf Travel Packages, uncovering everything you need to know to plan your ultimate tee time getaway.

Main Content

The Rise of Golf Travel Packages Golf tourism has witnessed a rapid surge in popularity in recent years, with Golf Travel Packages emerging as a preferred choice for players of all skill levels. Golfers are increasingly seeking well-curated packages that combine access to top-tier courses, luxurious accommodations, and seamless travel arrangements. The global golf tourism market is projected to reach $XX billion by 2025. Golf Travel Packages cater to diverse preferences, including solo travelers, couples, and groups.Choosing the Right Golf Travel Package Selecting the ideal Golf Travel Package requires careful consideration of various factors, such as destination, course offerings, accommodation options, and amenities. #### Factors to Consider: - Destination Diversity: Opt for packages that offer a mix of renowned and hidden gem courses. - Accommodation Quality: Choose accommodations that align with your preferences, from luxury resorts to boutique hotels. - Inclusions and Extras: Look for packages that include green fees, equipment rentals, and transportation services. - Customization Options: Some providers offer bespoke packages tailored to individual preferences.Planning Your Golf Itinerary Creating a well-structured itinerary is essential to maximize your golf travel experience. By strategically planning your tee times, rest periods, and leisure activities, you can ensure a harmonious balance of play and relaxation. Use online resources and golf travel specialists to research courses and plan your schedule. Consider factors such as course difficulty, proximity to accommodations, and dining options.Making the Most of Your Golf Experience Whether you're a seasoned golfer or a novice player, there are several strategies to enhance your Golf Travel Package experience and make the most of your time on the course.#### Tips for Golfers: - Warm-up Routine: Start your day with a proper warm-up to prevent injuries and improve performance. - Course Management: Study the layout of each course and strategize your shots accordingly. - Social Networking: Golf Travel Packages provide an excellent opportunity to network with fellow golfers and build lasting connections.Overcoming Challenges and Misconceptions While Golf Travel Packages offer unparalleled benefits for golf enthusiasts, there are common challenges and misconceptions that can arise during the planning and execution stages. Challenge: Balancing leisure activities with golf sessions. Misconception: Golf Travel Packages are only suitable for experienced golfers.Ensuring a Seamless Travel Experience Smooth logistics and well-coordinated travel arrangements are crucial for a stress-free golf trip. From booking flights to coordinating transfers and tee times, paying attention to the details can elevate your overall experience. Utilize golf-specific travel agencies that specialize in Golf Travel Packages. Stay informed about local golf etiquette and rules to enhance your playing experience.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Golf Travel Packages embody the perfect fusion of sport, leisure, and adventure, offering golfers a tailored experience that transcends traditional vacations. By meticulously planning your itinerary, embracing new challenges, and connecting with fellow enthusiasts, you can transform your next golf trip into an unforgettable journey. Embark on a golf travel adventure today and tee off for a truly exceptional experience!

Frequently Asked Questions

- Are Golf Travel Packages suitable for all skill levels? Yes, Golf Travel Packages cater to golfers of varying abilities, with options available for beginners, intermediate players, and advanced golfers.- How far in advance should I book a Golf Travel Package? It's advisable to book your Golf Travel Package several months in advance to secure preferred tee times and accommodations.- Can I customize a Golf Travel Package to suit my preferences? Many providers offer customization options for Golf Travel Packages, allowing you to tailor the experience to your individual needs.- What is included in a typical Golf Travel Package? Golf Travel Packages often include accommodations, green fees, transportation, and sometimes additional perks like spa treatments or dining credits.- Are Golf Travel Packages cost-effective compared to booking individually? In many cases, Golf Travel Packages** offer cost savings and added convenience compared to booking golf trips and accommodations separately.

Additional Elements

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