#but i THINK there's only this scene between me and hazard/mall

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

personally victimized by a (completely optional) 4.5-mile walk that i put myself through, and now i’m very sleepy about it :(

[ifeveristoday]

I got out my DVDs for this rewatch (that’s not actually a big deal. I only have season 3 on DVD. 😂) so let’s get to it.

I forgot they did a cold open for this episode!

I know it’s for ambiance but man does Angel have a lot of candles displayed. Probably too ‘mainstream’ for his taste but the thought of Angel furtively going to a Bath and Bodyworks in the mall during their semi-annual sale and just buying out their whole candle selection gives me the purest joy. Let’s be real though, Angel would shop at some boutique/hole in the wall owned by a wizened old character with a twinkle in their eye and everything marked up 20%. Or it would be a steel and glass monstrosity with a collection labeled Candles for Men. That’s the range.

Back to the enormous fire hazard that this scene is -

Wait. Does fire burn on stone?

Shout out to the stunt doubles.

I think that Angel getting food for Buffy for a sort of alfresco picnic while training is really sweet, actually. Also, can't miss the opportunity for both carbs and phallic symbolism ala bread.

Everyone is so embarrassingly horny in this moment. I'd say get a room except they're in a whole giant mansion.

Always remember the bread! What did Angel do with the food after Buffy fled? Fed the no-doubt cursed pigeons that live in Sunnydale.

Thanks for the workout (insert stereotypical dirty laugh).

Oh yes, the awkward 'let's talk about your birthday without mentioning the last birthday you had at all because it's horrifying' chitchat. God, the anxiety Angel is radiating here and Buffy trying to smooth it over. You can't unfrost that trauma cake!

Angel, you utter dork. You're lucky Buffy finds you pretty. Very powerful himbo energy here. And it's nice to see some light-hearted flirting/banter between them.

How do you know when someone's aura's dirty? Buffy is only asking the reasonable questions everyone has.

Do you hear yourself, Giles. "I'm aware of your distaste in studying vibratory stones..." I can't imagine what that section of the Slayer handbook looks like. Are there pull-out charts?

Faith being conveniently gone for this episode. Boo, hiss.

That workout really did a number on Buffy. I see what you're doing with those crystals.

One of the sad parts of rewatching Buffy is that you just don't have the first time discovery feels of watching it - that magic is gone, but even though I know why Buffy's wobbling in her fight, the reveal is still upsetting. Thinking about how in Season 5, when she does get staked, just as she's questioning her powers - and here, where she's losing them.

Also, obvious observation is obvious - the sexual violence imagery is really, really blatant here - with the vampire crouched over her with the stake aimed toward her heart, just as she playfully staked Angel earlier in a more romantically set scene.

AND THEN THE THEME KICKS IN. Like, damn! Three minutes and you can pretty much tell what the plot is going to be - Buffy and Angel's UST is getting out of hand, Buffy's lone Rangering it, and something is wrong with her. And it's her birthday.

And Buffy's resourcefulness saves the day.

Perhaps you shouldn't be throwing knives in the library, Buffy.

Did they do a geography lesson on Cuernavaca? It's also just fun to say. Like La Cienega. Brief moment to ponder yet again about a show set in Southern California, actually shot in Southern California, with the huge Latine population we have and the Spanish-influenced names and culture and - getting sidetracked by all this casual 90s racism.

"We do it every year for my birthday," except your seventeenth, presumably because of the murderous ex-boyfriend stalking the town you live in and all your loved ones. [Or, he did take her and it was not shown on screen!] Sometimes I wonder if the continuity editors just go, you know, I'm going to let this one go for the 'emotion' and not just so years later, a Virgo with a deep-seated need to obsess over throwaway details will go into a thought spiral to make it make sense.

I think this is also the last time Hank Summers was spoken of with any real affection because then he was Deadbeat Dad for the remainder of the show. Oh, look. The Scoobies are surprised about the traditional birthday ice show that I'm going to nitpick about forever.

Oz is so supportive, and then the clunker of a 'deep' line of ice being cool because it's water then it's not. I do like the Whedonesque school of dialogue, but sometimes you gotta reel it back. I remember the dialogue on Dawson's Creek was getting pinged for the teenagers talking like grad students.

Quiet reflection. Oh you poor girl, you have no idea.

Quarterly projections - is a convincing filler phrase for when you don't need to know what the job is, because it's boring but sounds vaguely official. What does Hank actually do? Who cares! He's an asshole.

Sunnydale Arms, because of course, Sunnydale has a broken down abandoned murder hotel.

Quentin Travers. Boo. Hiss.

The scary music is very scary. Also one of the Council flunkies looks like a very young Vincent D'Onofrio.

This scene with them in the library is so bittersweet because Buffy is fishing for Giles's attention as a father figure substitute ("very sophisticated people go!" breaks my heart) and he pointedly is rejecting this for training talk.

Look for the flaw at its center. THE FLAW IS YOU GILES. YOU YOU YOU.

it's just so terrible, this scene because of how methodical and clinical it plays out. And Buffy is just not there, and then Giles smiles like nothing has happened.

Buffy makes it through another night - next day (another reason why this trial is so horrifying is that it takes place over several days - it's not on Buffy's birthday but leading up to it, so the idea of her getting weaker and weaker and unable to fight to make it to 18 in the first place) and it's time for the Cordelia has had enough of toxic masculinity scene!

Also, Willow blithely ignoring a person's feelings and treating Amy as just a rat is played for laughs and cuteness, but yeah...you can't treat people like puppets or rats [law and order sound]

I love Cordelia's coat. And also, while it does suck that she stood him up, he's not entitled to her time or attention and certainly not to threaten her. Go, Cordy! Fight like a girl! Yes! Pummel him into the hallway.

I also love Willow's outfit here because I think the colors are so complementary and warm and it's a cute outfit. Okay, the knit wooly hat is a bit too Blossom-esque, but whatever.

Buffy is tiny, we all know this, but I do think they purposefully dressed her in larger than her size coats in this episode to make her look even more tiny and vulnerable.

Giles is TOO BLASE for this scene also shut your mouth about throwing knives like a girl

"It's an archaic exercise in cruelty." SO WHY DID YOU GO ALONG WITH IT, BRAIN TRUST. (I am going to be very mean to Giles this whole rewatch, deal with it.)

"But I'm the one in the thick of it." No, you're not. You are going to be adjacent to it, at best.

Hey it's that guy!

Okay, in better lighting, flunkie does not look like Vincent D'Onofrio.

It's impossible to pin down one type of Vampire in the Whedonverse, except for the delineation between Grunt Bait Vampires, and Special Guest Star/Master vampires, but Kralik is the only other example of a vampire with mental illness besides Drusilla, yet he's medicated. Makes me wonder how exactly they got Kralik...he was a monster before he was a vampire, but who vamped him? I don't put it past the Watchers to have vampires created for this purpose.

Curse against lawyers!

Xander and Oz bonding over comic books is so fun. I regret they didn't really get closer until after Xander and Willow cheated because Oz was the one male friend Xander had.

They mentioned her birthday! Thinking about Buffy's love of poetry later on, this is a nice little detail, and it *is* a thoughtful, sweet gift. Also those poems: horny. Oh yes, maybe in a restrained way, but Elizabeth Barrett Browning knew what was up.

The Buffy and Angel relationship in season three is full of these starts and stops that I can see why and agree with others about how it's frustrating on a number of levels. They know why they can't be together, but they still try to find a common ground because they want to need the other one. They still have their identities to figure out - Buffy as the slayer and a young adult, Angel as a person, separate from Buffy and being Buffy's ex sort of maybe.

But this conversation in Helpless is genuinely sweet and a glimpse at what a normal couple at the crossroads would talk about - I think I'm also being soft on this because the other Important Male Figure in Buffy's life in this episode lets her down so spectacularly bad, that Angel being supportive and kind in his awkward way is a nice respite. It's good to be away from the angst and the horror that their relationship has had.

And the self-aware puncturing of the Moment between them is something Buffy does very well. "Taken literally, incredibly gross - I was just thinking that too". Look, it's cute and soft and I will allow it.

The horror of this episode (and there are so many) is that we have to watch Buffy become the helpless blonde in a slasher flick who is being chased by the monsters and she can't do anything about it - that she has to be rescued or die. That the real world with men catcalling and bystanders who ignore women's cries of distress is far scarier than the literal demons that inhabit the town - and Buffy brokenly saying she can't just be a person, she can't be helpless like that [like women are, still, today] is a gut punch. It's uncomfortable and unhappy because Buffy is supposed to be the hero, the [sigh] strong female lead who can kick ass and take names, and this episode is all about finding who Buffy is, separate from her super powers. Also an exercise in emotional torture, but must be Tuesday.

The physicality - the weakness that both Buffy and Giles display in this scene is so, so good. The way Buffy's hand trembles toward the needle in the case and the dawning realization of what Giles has done, has chosen to do - and he bloodlessly tells her what the Cruciamentum is.

Her tiny little "Liar."

GOD WHY DIDN'T SHE GET AN EMMY (rhetorical we all know genre tv only matters if it was Game of Rapey Thrones)

"You will be safe now, I promise you." LIAR.

Another puncturing a heavy moment - Cordelia as cavalry - I love it. Cordelia taking the most obvious approach to the situation - 'oh Buffy might have lost her memory, well he's Giles,'

I can't believe they robbed us of a conversation in the car scene with Cordy and Buffy.

Kralik had to have found a polaroid camera and a metallic sharpie for this whole scenario -- OH I KNOW WHO HE REMINDS ME OF. The Night Stalker and any number of serial killers that terrorized SoCal. Is the show being self-aware of the problem with mothers and parents in general?

Probably a glib accident.

I don't have much to say about the part where Buffy hunts Kralik because it's so masterfully done with the atmosphere and music.

Nice of Giles's backbone to enter the chat now.

This is not business. Ooo.

Buffy's "I thought I killed a man" emo overalls!

Like it's shadowy, but there's still enough light to see facial expressions. Lighting guy, I salute you.

Little red riding hood metaphor. Oh, that's so her stunt double.

CREEPY SEXUAL VIOLENCE REARS ITS DEFORMED HEAD AGAIN

Jump stair scare. I remember the first time I saw it, I jolted in the living room.

Serial Killer Shit. Why are vampires such drama queens?

THAT'S RIGHT, BUFFY DID THAT

The ending scene in the library is cathartic in that Buffy gets to stand up for herself finally, and recognizes what Giles gives up by helping her, delayed as it was, also there's the feeling of hate punching Quentin Travers via your eyes.

Still don't think she should have forgiven Giles so easily, but we don't get to see a lot of aftercare for Buffy when she gets hurt, and it is a very tender scene.

The Scoobies are being way too upbeat if they knew about the fact that Giles poisoned Buffy, which is why I'm assuming she told a very abbreviated version of events ending with Buffy killed the bad guy and Giles got fired, oops.

Xander's big strong man comment and then looking immediately to Willow to open the jar and not Oz...

I could watch this episode again with episode commentary from David Fury, but another day.

[trillian-anders]

suspect - ii

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, graphic descriptions of crime scenes, angst, slow burn

word count: 3.7k

description: au detective!bucky barnes x investigative journalist!reader;

still wet behind his ears, detective barnes is given his very first homicide case, a woman no one seems to care about had been murdered. it’s only when investigative journalist reader brings the small details to his attention that he realizes there’s a bigger problem. a serial killer no one was paying attention to.

He’d passed this diner a million times and had never gone inside. It was tightly packed between two buildings almost like it didn’t really belong. The bright neon sign above the door lit him blue as he stepped into the diner, eyes scanning the room until he found what he was looking for. Your back to the brick, typing away on your laptop. Coffee and an untouched slice of blueberry pie going cold next to you.

He didn’t know why he was here. Maybe he shouldn’t be. But how did you know? How did you know that Cheryl’s ring finger was taken? He had to at least absolve that, and then he could go. He could leave. That’s all he is here for. In the moments before you realized he was even there, before he takes a seat across from you, he takes in your appearance.

Windswept hair and wrinkled clothes he was sure were your ‘business casual’ a bare requirement for the office you worked in. But he knew you were attractive. Brock didn’t have to tell him that, he has eyes. The warning in the back of his head, he needed to keep his distance from you. He knows that. But he just must know.

You look up at him as he approaches, sitting back in the booth as he takes a seat across from you. “Hi.” He folds his hands in front of him,

“Hi.” You slip the laptop off to the side as the server approaches.

“Can I grab you anything?” Sweet and polite, giving you a questioning look. He wondered if you had much company here. Marie, on her name tag, seemed to know you.

“Just a coffee, please.” A nod and she was gone.

“So what did you have to talk to me about?” As you took a sip of yours. He sighs, back against the booth.

“How did you know she was missing her ring finger?” Blunt and to the point, he watched your mouth part and then close.

“Because that’s what he does.” You say simply.

“That’s what who does?” You stare at him for a moment more,

“The Boston Butcher.” A pause while Marie set the coffee mug on the table, pouring him fresh coffee and topping yours off. A gentle ‘thank-you’ from your lips before she walks away. The case Steve told him about. The guy who, from 89-99 murdered twenty sex workers in the Combat Zone, the red light district. But he had to admit it had markers of the case. “Detective… it’s the same MO, it’s the same process. The ring finger missing… she was strangled and when your toxicology report comes back from her autopsy, you’ll find ketamine in her system. It’s what he uses to subdue them.”

Bucky shakes his head, “The Boston Butcher is in jail, and has been for almost twenty years now.” He saw the mug shot. Nicholas Joseph Fury, his priors included drug possession and two misdemeanors. The man looked angry in his mug shot, is left eye milky and blue, half shut with a scar. He looked terrifying.

You sigh, tracing the rim of your coffee mug, thinking. “Okay well, it’s a copycat then.” You shrug, meeting his eyes. “Because that is the MO of the Boston Butcher and I wouldn’t be surprised if you find another girl six months from now.”

“We have a suspect for Cheryl’s murder.” He explains. A man who he had just interrogated not that long ago. A man who didn’t have an alibi. You laugh sarcastically,

“Then why are you here?” How could he answer that when he didn’t even know himself? Curiosity? Doubt? Steve had seemed pleased with him finding this lead, no one else bat an eyelash at him going for the ex-boyfriend. It’s more likely. Statistically speaking anyway.

“I don’t know.” He sighs, back hitting the booth. He runs his fingers through his hair and you flip through your notebook.

“First victim, Angela Price.” You swallow, “Twenty-four years old, mother of one, a little boy named Andrew.” You show him her picture. A beautiful young woman, big curly hair with mall bangs and blue eyeshadow. “She was a sex worker. Found on her back, spread eagle, drugged and strangled with her ring finger missing in February of 1989.” Another, “Second victim, Victoria Brown. Twenty-seven years old, mother of three, two girls Jessica and Michelle, and one boy Jason.” Another picture of a beautiful young woman, smiling with her kids, an Easter photo. “She was also a sex worker. Found in the same exact way, August of 1989.” And on, and on.

“Stop.” His hand lay over the pictures you’re laying before him. Okay. Okay. “So say we have a copycat.” He levels with you. “Right? But you think…”

“Fury is innocent.” You spit. “He was a good scapegoat for the police to appease the public.” He watches you reorganize the pictures you’d shown him, slipping them back into your notebook. “Whoever the Butcher is, he’s still out there. But if you’re not ready for that, then you need to go talk to Fury himself or try talking to the girls.” The girls still on the street, “I can help you.”

He sighs, his coffee grew cold. He believes her, some little part of him nagging at the back of his brain and telling him that it makes sense. The proof is all right there. It was at least a copycat. “Help me how?”

“I want this killer brought to justice,” You say, “And the girls are never going to talk to a cop, but they will talk to me.”

“Listen,” He sighs, “This is my first homicide as a detective and I appreciate your enthusiasm over this case and your concern, but I can’t in good conscience bring a civilian into an investigation.” A five-dollar bill down on the table. “Thank you for the information, I’ll keep it in mind while I explore different avenues.” How clinical, like he was giving a press conference on the news. He couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth. “If you’re looking for more information for your article, you know where to reach me.” Hands in his pockets he was gone.

A soft rain falling from the sky wet his head and shoulders as he reached his car, his eyes moving of their own volition back to the glass window of the diner. To you. He watched you with your head in your hands, still for a moment before pushing your hair back from your face and sitting back, rubbing your eyes and pulling your laptop back in front of you. And with the lit screen hitting your face he pulled off.

You watched his car leave, before focusing back on the screen. A new message from Wanda sitting in messenger.

GoFundMe is set up, have you talked to next of kin yet?

A quick reply, of ‘tomorrow’ and you shut the screen. Not able to deal with it anymore.

“Marie, I’ll take my check whenever you get time.” The pie boxed up and stuffed into your fridge, you lay on the bed in your studio apartment, staring at the light above the stove. The drip of the sink. The soft sound from the tv playing the evening news. Not a mention of the crime from yesterday. Because no one would care.

No one cares when a sex worker is murdered.

It’s a hazard of the job.

A hazard of the disgusting, degrading, job of a whore. But they weren’t. They were people with hopes and dreams and ideas that were crushed under the boot of people meant to protect them.

It made you so angry. Being treated like you were crazy. You knew that’s who you were to them, the police, that crazy reporter who’s trying to connect dots for a case that’s already been solved. Conspiracy theories about how there must have been someone in the force, there had to be someone in the force helping them. There had to be.

But police protect their own. And no one would believe that one of their own could have had something to do with this. But you knew, it felt like a cover up. But you didn’t know who they were trying to protect.

You just needed someone to take a chance on it. You needed someone to believe you. And you thought James Barnes would, but apparently you were wrong.

When you found the address for next of kin you realized it was familiar. The apartment complex you’d been in once before. A long time ago it feels now, but the memory was fresh. It was unsettling. But you weren’t here for you.

Sophie was a wreck. She had been shaking when she answered the door, pried open with a crying baby on her hip. “I’m here to help you.” You told her. “I run a victim relief charity.” You’d brought food. Put together by some of the others in your group. Ready to bake meals, groceries, and a check of first relief funds to help her with the burial.

“You do this for all of them?” She asked you. And you nod.

“We know how hard it is,” You try to comfort her, “Firsthand.” You helped her clean up the apartment. You helped her get the laundry together and clean out the fridge for space for the food you’d brought.

“I had to ID her body this morning.” Sophie cries. Baby Kayla toddling around and handing you blocks and various toys. Her older sister, Brielle was sitting not too far away watching cartoons. A sniffle, “I couldn’t believe it was her.” A shake of her head. “I can’t believe my baby is gone.”  

How long would it be before the police didn’t care anymore? Until they were done with her? You were sure James had already talked to her. “Have they talked to you about getting custody transferred over and what to do with the girls?” This two-bedroom apartment was in Sophie’s name. Cheryl was supporting them on her income. Sophie is on disability and unable to work. The stress was clear. On top of losing her child, she had the fear of losing her grandchildren too.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes, “The detective said someone from the district attorney’s office would be by, but no one yet.” Because you’re on their time and they’re not on yours. A heavy sigh.

“Well we have a GoFundMe set up,” You rub her back, “We’ll do what we can, we also have resources for free counseling and we do meet ups once a month, there’s one in a couple of days and I know that it might be a little soon for you but we have a lot of people able to pool some resources and I know a couple people who run daycare services and might be able to help you with the legal side of this Pro-Bono.”

It’s funny how tragedy affects people. Some go on to find themselves in careers to help those who were once in their position. Some of those children left behind went into social work, became one became a lawyer, some grew up to become foster parents when they themselves used to be foster kids.

All the people you’ve met, the families left behind, you tried to help. It took years to form this organization, but you did. And you met every single person who had been left behind by those murdered. Some believed that Fury was the culprit, but the majority were in the same boat as you.

They feel like justice hadn’t been served.

“Here’s my number.” Your business card with your contact information handed over, your business card for the charity. “We meet at the rec center on Malcom on the fifteenth of each month. I know that it’s a little soon, but just think about it.”

Reusable tote in hand you step from the apartment building just in time to run into the stunning redhead from yesterday. Today her short hair was down and slightly curled. Her clothing less severe. She got dressed up to be more friendly and approachable.

“Funny running into you here.” Her voice smoky and smooth. You shrug, gesturing to the bag over your arm.

“Just dropping off some food, giving her some information about my victim’s relief aid.” The lawyer doesn’t react, a silent moment before she says,

“I hope you haven’t put any ideas into her head.” You were taken aback.

“I’m sorry?” You were sure she knew about your ‘conspiracy’; you’d seen her a couple times before talking to her yesterday just around the courthouse while you were working on other stories and cases.

“You need to be careful what you say to these women,” Her voice wasn’t betraying any emotion, “I wouldn’t directly tell them to look into those cases.” Walking by you and into the apartment building you wondered what she knew. Because if you don’t directly tell someone to investigate the Boston Butcher cases, you’re not liable for someone interfering in a police investigation. And if someone else were to interfere… you would be given more credibility.

“Hey,” You breathe, sinking into the driver’s seat of your car. “I just left Sophie Hansen’s, I’m on my way back.”

“How did it go?” You could hear the noise from the office, Sam never closed his door which you thought was equally good and bad. “How is she?” You sigh, sinking down into the seat a little bit.

“She’s a little bit of a mess,” You explain, “Understandably… you should see those little girls Sam.” Your eyes welling up, you place your hand over them. “They’re not even going to remember her.” A sniffle.

“You’re doing what you can for them,” He reasons, “There’s not much else—”

“I wish there was.” You lean back against the head rest, pulling a tissue from your pocket, sighing, “I’m gonna stop for coffee, do you want anything?”

“I told Riley that you’re coming for dinner tonight. I think you need to spend some time with your friends right now and you can’t back out because he’s at the store right now.” You laugh,

“You’re the worst.” Turning your key in the ignition he replies,

“I know, now go get my coffee and get back to work.”

…

Bucky didn’t sleep a lot last night. He spent most of it in the precinct and going over old files in the conference room. This old filing system from before everything went digital, he had to go to the records room and get the one box of information about the case. But it wasn’t making any sense.

Why would such a prolific killer not have more recorded information?

After a nap on the breakroom couch and hours reading every detail, he could he compiled his own file about the case and typed his notes.

“You alright pal?” It stunned him out of grogginess, half asleep over the manila folder on his desk. Looking up at his friend he accepted the cup of coffee from Steve’s hand. “Have you been here all night?” Bucky felt himself nod, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“I actually have to talk to you about something.” Steve takes a sip, furrowing his brow.

“Come talk to me in my office.” Steve’s office was always clean and well organized, just like everything else in his life. It made Bucky feel like he was sort of a mess. Where Steve’s hair was always perfectly combed to the side, his face clean shaven, his uniform always starched and pressed, Bucky was always sporting five o’clock shadow, bags under his eyes, and he was sure that he’d never even used an iron. He’d give it to Steve for being a military brat turned ex-military man. “What’s going on?”

Bucky shut the door behind him, slipping the file onto Steve’s desk and sitting heavily in the chair before it, taking a sip of his coffee as Steve opened the file. His brow furrowed and he looked up at his friend.

“You’re looking into the Boston Butcher?” Bucky nods,

“I think we’ve got a copycat, maybe…” He shrugs, “The MO matches perfectly and looking more into Michael Hale’s story… I’m going to keep up with it but I don’t think it was him.” Steve nods, sipping on his coffee before sighing.

“Listen, Buck.” Sitting back in his high-backed chair, “I think you should explore the Hale alibi before we jump to the conclusion that we have a copycat. It would be a very serious avenue to go down.” Steve firm and rational, “Rule out Hale first and then we can talk about a copycat, just to cover our bases.” Bucky nods, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I took a nap on the couch.” A shrug. Steve sighs and rubs his eyes.

“You need to take better care of yourself.” The file slid back to him over the desk, “Check out Michael Hale, get some rest. Come see me tomorrow.”

Just another nap, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Groggy he woke up in the afternoon still tired, but a little more alive than he had been previously. He took a hot shower, changed into some fresh clothes and debated shaving but decided against it.

He’d be back at the precinct before the lunch hour was done.

He’d been thinking a lot about what you said to him the night before. If this guy was a copycat, then you had to expect for him to strike again. But how would they even prepare for that? Wait for another body to show up? He’s had to question people in the red-light district before. It wasn’t easy. He was sure that probably anything else would be easier. But it would need to be done anyway.

He wonders if maybe he should take you up on that offer, if it turns out to be a copycat. Maybe he answered a little hastily. He cringes at the way he’d spoken to you last, he sounded like some bureaucratic weirdo.

“Detective Barnes?” His eyes torn away from how he’d been blankly starting at his phone in the line for coffee. There you were, like a sign, holding a cardboard tray with three drinks in it. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect to run into you here and I wouldn’t have felt right not saying hello.” He understands,

“You’re fine,” He offers, “Really.” He wants to ask. His gut feeling is telling him to ask.

“Have you heard anything?” You sound hopeful, “I know it hasn’t been long, but…” He shakes his head.

“Not yet.” You nod. He should ask. “Listen, I know how I came across last night and I just want to say that if the situation plays out… the way that you’re expecting it to, I’ll be in contact.” The line moved forward and it was almost his turn. You nod, a swell in your chest seemingly from satisfaction.

“Okay, okay.” You give him a soft smile, “I’ll talk to you later then.” Confident and pleased.

“How can I help you?” The cheery barista pulled his eyes away from you, and when he turned back you were already gone.

“Americano please.”

…

A loud pounding on the door.

“Christine.” A call through the wood. The apartment’s lights were on. The TV still buzzing with a show no one was watching. More loud pounding. “Christine, I’m coming in!” The door unlocked and swung open. The man on the other side taking the state of the apartment. At first look it was a mess. There was trash strewn about and a rancid smell. As the man walked further into the apartment, he noticed the dishes in the sink and a plate on the counter. He gagged as he realized it was covered with maggots. A sick feeling in his stomach had him pulling his phone out, he continued into the living room.

On the coffee table was a discarded needle, a little foil wrapper opened with a ball of black tar. The smell growing stronger. He lifts his shirt to cover his nose. “Tina?” Hand on her bedroom door his heart began to race. The smell overpowering and turning his stomach as he pushes it open to reveal her body. Bloated with rot.  

He vomits.

…

“He made you sound like a basket case.” You watch Riley glare at his husband, a laugh shared between the two of you as Sam rolls his eyes, forking more pasta into his mouth. “You need to give her more credit,” Looking at you, “You’ve come such a long way.” A sip of wine, Riley already had a lot which is why he’s being so loose lipped right now.

“Thank you, Riley.” You sip your wine, plates just about cleared and Sam was on his second serving. “I really love what you’ve done with the garden.” The night was warm and pleasant, the three of you were eating out on their patio to the light of citronella candles and soft music playing over the speakers Sam installed last year.

Riley worked from home and always claimed, “I need my environment to be beautiful for the sake of my mental health.” Which included plenty of plants and color coordinated desk supplies. He was on first name basis with the guy whose FedEx route was through his neighborhood, “Caleb loves me.” He would defend.

“When are you going to move out of that gross apartment and into something like this?” Riley asked. “He pays you enough.” You shrugged,

“It’s just me right now, I don’t think I really need much.” He sighs,

“I just don’t like you living in that neighborhood.” A defense, “I know you’re used to that area, but—”

“I’ll think about it.” To satisfy him. He smiles softly at you knowing you were just saying it to appease him, “I will.” Your phone rings and glancing down at it you see a number you don’t recognize. “Hold on.” Stepping from the table you hear Sam scold his husband for bringing up your apartment, but you can’t focus on that. “Hello?”

“It’s Barnes.” A sad tone in his voice and what he says next makes your stomach drop, “We found another body.”

[mxgvmiii]

100 follower special event✨✨

Hello babies🌸🌸( tis the name I have dubbed thee)!

First and foremost I would like to thank you for liking my content enough to actually follow, let alone having me reach 100 followers. I hope you keep enjoying my content in the future and keep on supporting me. I make it my mission to make sure that everyone reading my work feels loved, included and happy. That is one of the main reasons I always try to write gender neutral stories and refrain from describing physical features unless requested. I hope that in the future I am able to write for female characters as well to broaden my demographic. I hope you know that I love each an every one of guys very much.

This is the post for my 100 follower special.It took some time to figure out exactly what I wanted to do since I really wanted to something special for you all. I hope you guys enjoy this special event and bear with me since this is my first time doing this. When the event is over I’ll upload a google form that I’d appreciate if you filled out so that I know what to change when I hopefully hit another milestone.

The event will be held from the day this is posted and will continue for the whole month. Which means 4th - 31st August 2020 according to the CEST time zone. I will no longer take request starting from 11:30 pm on the 31st, seeing as I most likely won’t be able to produce something I’m proud of while on a time crunch. I probably will close it early if there aren’t that many requests since I start school in a week and have many important exams. That’s why my requests are currently closed. Everything that has to do with the special will be tagged with #100 special. My guidelines still apply during the event.

If you would like to be added to a taglist for a specific group, person, anime, character, for questions only, prompts only or everything just send me an ask or a dm :)

BTW I started writing this post at like 5:30 pm and finished at 2:12 am. ngl I wasn’t writing between 8 and 10 pm since I was busy helping my parents. That’s still a long time tho...

When the event is done:

I will link this in my masterlist.

Every prompt that is written will have a list of names next to it. Every name will be a link to the post.

I will edit the layout of this post so that my legend, that I add to every masterlist to symbolize what kind of post it is, will be there.

n e wayz😗

For my 100 special I will be making a Prompt list, a Q&A and redraws + art 

Choose a location/AU and only one prompt from the following. Please specify a genre (ex. fluff, angst, slow burn, crack, etc.) and format (headcanon, oneshot). Any combination that has already been done will be linked in the ask.

Quotes:

ngl most of the crack quotes are things my friends and I have said.

- “will you marry me?”

- “I think we need a break”

- “Where were you?”

- “I was worried, you know”

- “ You slob”

- “AGAIN??!” sigh “ At least you’re not hurt, right”

- “You are a hazard to society ... and to yourself”

- “Do I need to supervise you now?”

- “They won’t care about your left pinky toe”

- “That’s it. We’re getting you a bubble wrap suit. Oh don’t worry it’ll still be (favorite color)”

- “Honey, I’m having a baby and it’s not yours. It belongs to Jungkook” (if requested with Jungkook, the name will be changed to someone else”

- “Honey, I was lying, it’s (favorite food)’s baby”

- “How did you fall down the stairs and get bitten by a dog in the same week?”

- “When I see that old lady it’s on site”

Actions:

- ice skating

- visiting a museum (you can specify what kind of museum)

- hanging out

- waking up

- going to sleep

- wearing his clothes

- buying matching items ( you can specify)

- cooking/baking

- cleaning together

- teaching you volleyball (haikyuu only)

- teaching you one of his choreography (kpop groups only)

- filming tiktoks

- pranking him (with his friends)

Locations:

- Park

- Water park 

- Pool

- Beach

- Aquarium

- Concert

- Home

- Supermarket

- School (classroom, hallway, cafeteria, rooftop, gym)

- Holiday (here you can specify a destination)

- On the way home (bus, car, plane, train)

- Doctor’s office/clinic

- Hospital

- A volleyball match (pre and post timeskip)

- Café/restaurant/fast food restaurant

- Mall/clothing store

AUs:

- social media (celebrity ver., non-celeb ver.)

- spy/mafia

- youtuber

- Warlord (haikyuu only since it saves me the energy when making alliances and rivals/enemies. This is also loosely based off of the otome game Ikemen Sengoku.)

Haikyuu:

Karasuno:

- Sawamura Daichi - Sugawara Kōshi - Azmane Asahi - Nishinoya  Yū - Tanaka  Ryūnosuke - Kageyama Tobio - Hinata  Shōyō - Tsukishima Kei - Yamaguchi Tadashi

Nekoma:

- Kuroo Tetsurō - Kai Nobuyuki - Yaku Morisuke - Yamamoto Taketora - Kozume Kenma - Haiba Lev

Fukurodani:

- Bokuto Kōtarō - Akaashi Keiji

Shiratorizawa:

- Ushijima Wakatoshi - Semi Eita - Tendō Satori

Aoba Johsai:

- Oikawa Tōru - Matsukawa Issei - Hanamaki Takahiro - Iwaizumi Haijime

Inarizaki:

- Ojirō Aran - Miya Atsumu - Suna Rintarō - Miya Osamu

Date Tech/Dateko:

- Futakuchi Kenji - Aone Takanobu - Koganegawa Kanji

Miscellaneous Characters:

- Terushima Yūji - Sakusa Kiyoomi

Boku no Hero Academia:

Class 1a:

- Kaminari Denki - Kirishima Eijiro - Todoroki Shouto - Bakugo Katsuki - Midoriya Izuku

Class 1b:

- Shinsou Hitoshi

Free!:

- Nanase Haruka - Tachibana Makoto - Hazuki Nagisa  - Ryūgazaki Rei - Matsuoka Rin - Yamazaki Sousuke - Shinigo Kisume - Nitori Aiichiro  - Mikoshiba Momotaro - Tono Hyori - Shiina Asahi - Mikoshiba Seijuro - Kirishima Natsuya - Kirishima Ikuya

NCT:

- Taeyong - Taeil - Johnny - Yuta - Kun - Doyoung - Ten - Jaehyung - WinWin - Junwoo - Lucas - Mark - Xiaojun - Hendery - Renjun - Haechan - Jeno - Jaemin - YangYang - Chenle - Jisung

GOT7:

- JB - Mark - Jackson - Jinyoung - Youngjae - Bam Bam - Yugyeom

Seventeen:

- S.Coups - Jeonghan - Joshua - Jun - Hoshi - Wonwoo - Woozi - DK - Mingyu - The8 - Seungkwan - Vernon - Dino

BTS:

- RM - Jin - Suga - J-hope - Jimin - V - Jungkook

Stray Kids:

- BangChan - Lee Know - Chanbin - Hyungjin - Han - Felix - Sengmin - I.N

ATEEZ:

- Hongjoon - Seonghwa - Yunho - Yeosang - San - Mingi - Wooyoung - Jongho

EXO:

- Suho - Xiumin - Lay - Baekhyun - Chen - Chanyeol - D.O - Kai - Sehun

Every question that has been answered will be crossed out and linked. In brackets are if you want to specify. Yes, you can also send in some of your own questions.

1. How do you get inspiration?

2. What are your favorite genres? (music, film, books/writing)

3. Who is your bias from all of the groups you write for? 

4. What is your favorite anime? (as a ranking, why?)

5. Who is your favorite character? (Haikyuu, Bnha) 

6. When did you get into Anime / Kpop? (show, group, in general)

7. What is your favorite food?

8. Who are your favorite writers on tumblr?

9. How did you start writing?

10. What happened to make you and your friends say this?

~ 10a. “You are a hazard to society ... and to yourself”

~ 10b. “Do I need to supervise you now?”

~ 10c. “They won’t care about your left pinky toe”

~ 10d. “That’s it. We’re getting you a bubble wrap suit. Oh don’t worry it’ll still be (favorite color)”

~ 10e. “Honey, I’m having a baby and it’s not yours. It belongs to Jungkook”

~ 10f. “Honey, I was lying, it’s (favorite food)’s baby”

~ 10g. “How did you fall down the stairs and get bitten by a dog in the same week?”

~ 10h. “When I see that old lady it’s on site”

Questions you asked:

... nothing yet lol ...

This category is for Anime only.

For this portion you send me an official picture from a manga  or a scene from the anime that I redraw via dm so I can draw the right picture, if you don’t wan’t to be tagged I’ll send you the post via dm to let you know I finished it. Or if you want to see a specific character with a specific hairstyle but in the official art style.

All items will be linked below.

... nothing yet ... lol

[the-record-newspaper]

The killing of Rhonda Hinson Part 32

By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

Special Investigative Reporter

For The Record

 …Mark said school would be out the 17th of December, but Jill did not arrive home until the 18th.  Jill had a hair appointment at 3:30 PM on the 18th.  These dates would place Jill in the [Sic] Mark’s car close to the incident and would give Jill the opportunity to see the jacket left in the car when Rhonda and Mark went Christmas shopping for Jill’s presents.—From the Dec. 30, 1995 notes of Detective James Pruett.

 Mark Turner as a teen

Mark Turner now

As the waning days of 1995 gave way to 1996, Detective James Pruett turned his sights upon Mark Turner—Jill Turner-Mull’s boyfriend, who was also friends with Rhonda Hinson’s boyfriend, Greg McDowell.  Initially, he was interested in the gray-hooded sweatjacket that Rhonda Hinson left in Turner’s car whenever the duo embarked upon a late-Christmas season shopping expedition to Hickory’s Valley Hills Mall to purchase presents for Rhonda’s best friend who happened to be Mark’s girlfriend at the time.

Though the exact date of the shopping excursion was unknown to him, Detective Pruett systematically narrowed the range of possible dates. Clearly, Mark had previously indicated, in a missive to his girlfriend, that he would be leaving Elon’s campus to return to his parents’ Indian Hills residence, located off the Cape  Hickory Road, on Thursday, Dec. 17, 1981.  Jill Turner-Mull knew the date of his imminent arrival and told Rhonda Hinson about it in a previously reported letter penned on Dec. 8 and mailed on Dec. 9.

In her latest interview with The Record, Ms. Turner-Mull maintained that she does not recall a date with Mark on Dec. 18; instead they most probably went out together on Saturday the 19th.  

Turner-Mull said, “I had a hair appointment that afternoon; those usually took me a while; so, I think it was unlikely that we went out that night.  It would have been more likely that we waited until that Saturday to date….It was not unusual for Mark to play basketball with his friends on a Sunday afternoon; so, I don’t recall going out with him on that day [Dec. 20, 1981].

In 1996, Jill told Flash that she thought that Mark Turner injured his back on Sunday afternoon, Dec. 20, prompting a late-evening trip to the emergency room, via ambulance, on Monday Dec. 21.  

According to his father—Pastor Charles McDowell—his son, Greg, arrived home from North Carolina State (NCSU) on Saturday, Dec. 19, 1981. Judy Hinson agreed with that date; in her journal she penned her recollections of the events of that day:

She wrote: “Rhonda and I had gone shopping earlier on that Saturday [Dec. 19] for her some new clothes to wear to her upcoming Christmas party at Hickory Steel.  She had received a bonus from work and asked if we could go shopping.  We only planned to go to Morganton.  In Morganton, she could not find what she wanted.  We came back to Valdese. She didn’t find what she wanted.  We went to Hickory to the new mall.”

Judy and Rhonda stayed out longer than originally planned, making the return trip to Valdese at approximately 5 p.m.  Notably, Rhonda never mentioned Greg to her mother the entire day until they were journeying home.  It was at that juncture that she exclaimed—as if in a panic, according to Judy’s records—“Oh God, if Greg has called, he will really be mad!”

Instantaneously, Rhonda’s mood changed as she accelerated toward Valdese. Judy resumed her narrative:

“She stopped laughing and talking then.  She turned the radio on and was quite [Sic] the rest of the way home.  When we got home Robbie said ‘Rhonda you better call Greg. He has been calling all day and I think he is mad.’”

Rhonda finally called her boyfriend who informed her that she had 10 minutes to get ready to go to a party given by a man over the mountain for whom Greg had worked during the Summer of 1981.  When he arrived at the Hinsons’ Hillcrest home, Greg refused to talk with anyone.  “He was really mad at me.  I guess because I had gone with Rhonda that day,” Ms. Hinson mused in her handwritten-journal.

Curiously within an hour, the young couple returned to the Hinson house. Greg dropped Rhonda off but did not come inside with her.  Rhonda walked into her parent’s bedroom and awakened her mother.  Judy asked her daughter if they even made it to the party. “She [Rhonda] said that they did…Greg asked me to tell them we had to come home.  I asked her why he did that and she said he did not want to go. He just went because he was mad at her for going shopping.”  

On Monday Dec.  21, 1981, Judy recalled that Rhonda worked at Hickory Steel and returned home.  Frozen precipitation had fallen throughout the day, making travel hazardous; however, when Rhonda walked through the door, Greg McDowell was already there.  Judy noted that her daughter seemed upset.  

She wrote, “When she came in, she had a very pretty potted plant.  I asked her where she got it and she said, Don [Colson, her supervisor].  Greg looked at her kind of funny and Rhonda said…  ‘He gave everybody one.  When you get home, you will see that your Mom has one just like this.’  Greg left soon after this.  I asked [Rhonda] why he was in such a hurry and she said he was tired. He had exams before he came home for Christmas and had lost a lot of sleep.”

And it was on Tuesday, Dec.  22, that Rhonda Hinson informed her mother that she had no jacket to wear to work because Greg had her East Burke letter jacket and her hooded sweatjacket was in Mark Turner’s car.  

Detective Pruett knew that in order for the sweatjacket to be in Mark’s automobile, he and Rhonda would have had to have ridden to the mall together.  Judy Hinson made it clear that Mark had never come by their home to pick their daughter up to go shopping or anywhere else.  “I really didn’t know Mark Turner, frankly; and, I know that during that time he did not pick Rhonda up.”

Given the time schedules of both Mark Turner and Rhonda Hinson during the five fateful days prior to Rhonda’s murder, it seemed plausible that the Turner/Hinson mall-shopping trip must have occurred on the late afternoon of Dec. 18, 1981—subsequent to the conclusion of Rhonda’s workday at Hickory Steel.  

It would have been the most optimal timeframe for both of them—Jill had a hair appointment and would not be dating Mark later that evening; Greg was not even home from NCSU at that juncture; therefore, a date with Rhonda was not planned.  Beyond the 18th, their lives and activities were unlikely to intersect long enough to allow for a last-minute shopping trip.    

The Turner Indian Hills residence was located a little over four miles from Hickory Steel—a 10-minute drive.  Conceivably, Mark and Rhonda decided that it would be easy for him to retrieve her from work; and, the two could ride together to the mall. Afterwards—on his way home—Mark could drop Rhonda off at her Datsun parked at Hickory Steel; she would drive back to Valdese from there.  Apparently, sometime during the shopping excursion, Rhonda tossed her sweatjacket in the backseat and forgot to reclaim it before she exited Turner’s vehicle.  

Two days after the legendary “ball” dropped  in Times Square—Tuesday, January 3, 1996—Detective Pruett spoke by phone with SBI Special Agent John Suttle relative to progress made in the Rhonda Hinson case. Having done some prior research, Suttle apprised the Burke County detective that he was unable to locate an SBI interview with Mark Turner. Later that afternoon, however, Suttle walked into Pruett’s office:

Pruett stated: “I told him of my recent findings of the sweatjacket, the stuffed snake, and the fact that Tonya Benge Featherby [Sic] saw Greg in a blue Nova on December 22, 1981.  John looked at the jacket and agreed with me, Mark Turner could be a valuable witness. John felt I should go ahead with my plans for the interview with Mark.  Since officers did not talk with Mark, we may not arise [Sic] his suspicions. Again, the problem of Mark being at the crime scene [Sic] near the time of the incident could pose a problem.  We know he had the possession of the jacket. Did he give it to Greg?”

Within his own deductive mind—as reflected in his case notes—Flash ruled out the possibility that Mark Turner had a hand in killing Rhonda Hinson. “I feel Mark would not have a motive, and the heat of passion is between Greg and Rhonda.”  Then he concluded, “Mark would not have known Rhonda’s whereabouts while out with Jill.”  

Before his day officially ended on Jan. 3,1996, Detective Pruett drove by Mark Turner’s Bouchard Street residence in Valdese, as well as his business, Foothills Footwear.  He did not spot the white truck that Mark drove to work at Foothills; however, the family’s white automobile was parked at the Turner’s home.

Though questions relative to Mark Turner’s involvement in the case continued to swirl about the investigator, one factor had become clear—it was time, past time perhaps, to interview Mark Turner.  So, the next day—Jan. 4, 1996—Detective Pruett contacted him at his personal business to ask the 32-year-old to come by the department.

Two-hours later— at 4 p.m.—Mark Turner strode through the door of the Burke County Sheriff’s office to be interviewed—for the first time—relative to the killing of Rhonda Hinson.

[draculalive]

“The Pall Mall Gazette,” 18 September.

THE ESCAPED WOLF. PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER. Interview with the Keeper in the Zoölogical Gardens.

After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using the words “Pall Mall Gazette” as a sort of talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the Zoölogical Gardens in which the wolf department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just sitting down to his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he called “business” until the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said:—

“Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You’ll excoose me refoosin’ to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions.”

“How do you mean, ask them questions?” I queried, wishful to get him into a talkative humour.

“’Ittin’ of them over the ’ead with a pole is one way; scratchin’ of their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf to their gals. I don’t so much mind the fust — the ’ittin’ with a pole afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they’ve ’ad their sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the ear-scratchin’. Mind you,” he added philosophically, “there’s a deal of the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here’s you a-comin’ and arskin’ of me questions about my business, and I that grumpy-like that only for your bloomin’ ’arf-quid I’d ’a’ seen you blowed fust ’fore I’d answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic-like if I’d like you to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offence did I tell yer to go to ’ell?”

“You did.”

“An’ when you said you’d report me for usin’ of obscene language that was ’ittin’ me over the ’ead; but the ’arf-quid made that all right. I weren’t a-goin’ to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my ’owl as the wolves, and lions, and tigers does. But, Lor’ love yer ’art, now that the old ’ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an’ rinsed me out with her bloomin’ old teapot, and I’ve lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all you’re worth, and won’t git even a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin’ at, that ’ere escaped wolf.”

“Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it happened; and when I know the facts I’ll get you to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will end.”

“All right, guv’nor. This ’ere is about the ’ole story. That ’ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that came from Norway to Jamrach’s, which we bought off him four years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I’m more surprised at ’im for wantin’ to get out nor any other animile in the place. But, there, you can’t trust wolves no more nor women.”

“Don’t you mind him, sir!” broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery laugh. “’E’s got mindin’ the animiles so long that blest if he ain’t like a old wolf ’isself! But there ain’t no ’arm in ’im.”

“Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin’ yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was makin’ up a litter in the monkey-house for a young puma which is ill; but when I heard the yelpin’ and ’owlin’ I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin’ like a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn’t much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a ’ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin’ through it. He had a ’ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was ’im as they was hirritated at. He ’ad white kid gloves on ’is ’ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: ‘Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.’

“‘Maybe it’s you,’ says I, for I did not like the airs as he give ’isself. He didn’t git angry, as I ’oped he would, but he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. ‘Oh no, they wouldn’t like me,’ ’e says.

“‘Ow yes, they would,’ says I, a-imitatin’ of him. ‘They always likes a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you ’as a bagful.’

“Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin’ they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn’t put in his hand and stroke the old wolf’s ears too!

“‘Tyke care,’ says I. ‘Bersicker is quick.’

“‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘I’m used to ’em!’

“‘Are you in the business yourself?’ I says, tyking off my ’at, for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to keepers.

“‘No’ says he, ‘not exactly in the business, but I ’ave made pets of several.’ And with that he lifts his ’at as perlite as a lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kep’ a-lookin’ arter ’im till ’e was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn’t come hout the ’ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves here all began a-’owling. There warn’t nothing for them to ’owl at. There warn’t no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin’ a dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the ’owling stopped. Just before twelve o’clock I just took a look round afore turnin’ in, an’, bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker’s cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And that’s all I know for certing.”

“Did any one else see anything?”

“One of our gard’ners was a-comin’ ’ome about that time from a ’armony, when he sees a big grey dog comin’ out through the garding ’edges. At least, so he says, but I don’t give much for it myself, for if he did ’e never said a word about it to his missis when ’e got ’ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all night-a-huntin’ of the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered seein’ anything. My own belief was that the ’armony ’ad got into his ’ead.”

“Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the wolf?”

“Well, sir,” he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, “I think I can; but I don’t know as ’ow you’d be satisfied with the theory.”

“Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from experience, can’t hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?”

“Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that ’ere wolf escaped — simply because he wanted to get out.”

From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn’t cope in badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I said:—

“Now, Mr. Bilder, we’ll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you’ve told me what you think will happen.”

“Right y’are, sir,” he said briskly. “Ye’ll excoose me, I know, for a-chaffin’ of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was as much as telling me to go on.”

“Well, I never!” said the old lady.

“My opinion is this: that ’ere wolf is a-’idin’ of, somewheres. The gard’ner wot didn’t remember said he was a-gallopin’ northward faster than a horse could go; but I don’t believe him, for, yer see, sir, wolves don’t gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein’ built that way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets in packs and does be chivyin’ somethin’ that’s more afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But, Lor’ bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a quarter so much fight in ’im. This one ain’t been used to fightin’ or even to providin’ for hisself, and more like he’s somewhere round the Park a-’idin’ an’ a-shiverin’ of, and, if he thinks at all, wonderin’ where he is to get his breakfast from; or maybe he’s got down some area and is in a coal-cellar. My eye, won’t some cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shining at her out of the dark! If he can’t get food he’s bound to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher’s shop in time. If he doesn’t, and some nursemaid goes a-walkin’ orf with a soldier, leavin’ of the hinfant in the perambulator — well, then I shouldn’t be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That’s all.”

I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder’s face doubled its natural length with surprise.

“God bless me!” he said. “If there ain’t old Bersicker come back by ’isself!”

He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us; a personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.

After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves — Red Riding Hood’s quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.

The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:—

“There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble; didn’t I say it all along? Here’s his head all cut and full of broken glass. ’E’s been a-gettin’ over some bloomin’ wall or other. It’s a shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This ’ere’s what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker.”

He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.

I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is given to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

[cctinsleybaxter]

Funtastic Fun

Growing up in a very large city, you would think that I wouldn’t have much access to the cursed locations so prevalent in small towns. But my life, eh, finds a way.

Between the ages of eight and ten years old, my father and brother and I (and once a small birthday party of children) would visit such a cursed place a few times a year. I do not remember my first visit and I do not remember the last. My brother and I rarely discuss it, as discussing it feels more like talking about an episode of The Twilight Zone or a shared fever dream than a childhood memory. This was the world of Funtastic Fun.

Funtastic Fun was in one of the seedier parts of town, just outside of the main city on the far south of a street called Broadway (which you couldn’t and shouldn’t really go down or get to without a car or taxi.) It had been open in some incarnation or another since the 1980s and was a chronically failing indoor children’s amusement park and arcade. My dad liked it because it was like Chuck E. Cheese’s without the high cost; we liked it because it was never crowded.

The place was a Bosch painting of a carnival, set onto moldy carpet rather than asphalt. In one corner lived the food court and arcade, which my brother and I never visited, but everywhere else there were the rides. Set behind low vaguely threatening gates, they were the reason we came here. 

---

The Bounce House

Set in the furthest corner of the park, the bounce house was flanked by two giant inflatable clown heads on pikes rather than a simple doorway, and, like everything in Funtastic Fun, was coated in grime. It was overinflated, enormous, and completely unsupervised- the only rule was that you had to take your shoes off (and leave the rest of your clothes on.) 

The Ball Pit

The one place that never tempted me as a kid. I was against ball pits on principle to begin with, they’re basically holes with visible germ spheres, but the Funntastic Fun ball pit was less about ‘gross, some kid probably peed in here’ and more about ‘I think a child was murdered in here in 1994 and they never bothered to fish the body out.’ It was weirdly shallow but you could still never find the bottom. The one time I was in there I grabbed at something coming out that was either rotting food or black mold.

Miscellaneous Artifacts

The middle of the ‘park’ was a kind of no-man’s land where toddlers would usually chose to have tantrums. There was a slide, and one of those oversized barrels made for running/crawling in that was somehow both tacky and slippery (watching kids play in it was like watching feral hamsters.) The most terrifying was an enormous teddy bear that was probably infested with things still unknown to science. You could climb up into its lap and take a picture, but it was sort of like reliving the awful experience of a Mall Santa except now with an elder god. The bear smelled like a mummy. 

The Ferris Wheel

The ferris wheel was probably the only thing luring kids and their parents into this place, as you could see it peeking through the one spot of plexiglass in the institution-like building (it was unpainted concrete but hastily decorated with brightly striped banners and window paint; the kid’s version of a neon sign for a strip club.) The cars of the ferris wheel were shaped like hot air balloons, and they would travel in a lazy arc for a little over five minutes. The whole thing was surprisingly fit to safety codes, probably because it was so popular, but that didn’t exempt the inside of the cars from being coated in gum and the carved initials of the odd teenager that had wandered into the hellscape. The most striking thing was the poorly painted mural of forests and clouds behind it, making it feel like a trap that was trying to lull kids into a false sense of wonder.

The Whip

The park had all sorts of more normal rides- teacups, a miniature train, and a carousel being the most popular- but an absolute favorite was the park’s resident safety hazard. The Whip is actually a fairly common fair and park ride (albeit usually with a less threatening name that isn’t hastily scrawled on a hand-drawn sign), it’s a short track with carts on it that ‘whips’ you around in a circle. This thing was exactly that, but ‘built for kids’ with much smaller carts painted like ladybugs and race cars... plus the fact that the track and carts were perpetually rusted. This made it so that the ride would run fairly slowly to begin with but with everything shaking at incredible speed, until you were taking the corners of the circle hard enough for a neck injury. 

The Wall

Without a doubt my favorite place in this G-rated Carnival of Souls; for all the wrong reasons. If the rest of the park was a bit creepy, the wall of shadows was downright horrifying. It was kind of hidden in the back of the whole thing near some funhouse mirrors. It was very quiet, very musty, and very dark, which was a nice relief for my sensory disorder but also felt like being inside of a stranger’s closet. An entire wall of this alcove was coated in a plastic substance the color of the ‘minty’ walls of a hospital or the sick of Regan in The Exorcist. You would stand against it for a few seconds and then step back and see your shadow stuck to it. My brother and I invested far too much of our time with it, begging to visit the wall ‘for one last go’ before each visit was over. I remember my dad didn’t much care for it, and I didn’t have the words or the emotional range to tell him that I didn’t like it either, so much as I was fascinated by it. 

That moment you would unstick yourself from the wall to look at your shadow is something that is probably the strongest tactile memory of my childhood. It was cold like any plastic, but would warm up the longer you stood there, and when you peeled yourself away it was sticky like flypaper. Like all the grime of that place was trying to take you with it. Looking at your shadow was even worse, not euphoric but disquieting. It was you, but, not. I once read an article in a local magazine that mentioned that the wall looked like pictures of the aftereffects of the A-bomb, and given that thinking about the whole experience as an adult the author that comes to mind is Ray Bradbury (and That One Scene in There Will Come Soft Rains) I can’t help but to agree.

---

Although a related location opened the next town over that used some of the old equipment, the original Funtastic Fun shut down in 2011. I remember driving by it in high school and seeing the shell of the building, and my brother and I both exclaiming in alarm. My dad snorted at us, ‘guys, Funtastic Fun was gross. You were the ones that told me that when we stopped going.’

‘Yeah, we know.’ We both murmured, but neither of us blinked until it rounded the corner.

[entergamingxp]

Those Who Remain review – a torturous exercise in mediocrity • Eurogamer.net

I almost gave up on Those Who Remain halfway through. It was the lions, you see. A first-person blunderfest for horror obsessives only, the game’s setting is split between a menacing night-time reality and a weed-choked, oceanic otherworld in which objects float and the puzzles are more, well, videogamey. One such puzzle is a labyrinth dotted with lion statues. The idea is to carry the statues to candlelit plinths. The problem is that there’s a monster in your path, an oily personification of buried guilt and suffering. There’s a lot of that kind of thing in Those Who Remain – accusing messages on walls, silver-masked demons chortling about sin and forgiveness – but for the most part, the emotions you’re repressing are boredom and frustration.

The main character has no means of defending himself, so you must take winding routes to those plinths while lugging chunks of Umbrella Mansion Surplus stoneware that prevent you from sprinting, block the view and have a habit of jumping out of your hands. These burdens create tension, of course, but only for the few seconds it takes you to realise that you’re playing a mandatory-stealth McGuffin-fetching puzzle with instadeath. After my eighth try I decided that life was too short. But I came back the next morning and beat the area, thanks partly to bloody-mindedness and partly (I speculate) to a developer update that prevents the monster from chasing you endlessly once alerted. Let me tell you: I wish I’d stopped at the lions.

Those Who Remain does have some neat ideas, but all of them are squashed beneath a great steaming heap of mediocrity. The premise is Silent Hill as rewritten by an Alan Wake who has run out of coffee, and possibly self-respect. Leading man Edward is drinking and monologuing himself into an early grave over the loss of his family, as leading men in horror games often do. As the curtain goes up, he’s driven to a motel to break off a torrid affair, only for somebody (Wake?) to steal his car and maroon him outside Dormont – a spookily abandoned, predictably metaphysical town whose shadows are filled with knife-wielding spectres, their eyes flickering in the depths of closets and cornfields. Turn on a light and the spectres vanish, rendering the area safe for traversal.

The immediate question is: why not carry a light source with you? And Edward does – for the first few minutes, brandishing a cigarette lighter as he hurries after his car. But he soon loses the lighter and declines to replace it, even as the game’s tedious psychodrama drags you to malls, toolsheds and police stations filled with, at the very least, burning chair-legs and candles. There’s something loveable about this unwillingness to spoil the game’s core concept. It fills me with nostalgia for those perversely specific lock-and-key puzzles in older Silent Hills. And the spectres are eerie enough to begin with, especially when encountered inside. One dependable source of heeby-jeebies is reaching around a door frame to flip a light switch, inches from death.

The fear lies partly with how the spectres turn Those Who Remain’s shortage of actual character animations into an advantage, and partly with the sense that they are still there when the lights are on – that you are walking through them, kept from their blades by a single parameter in a game where objects occasionally glitch themselves invisible. But that fear soon turns to familiarity and – when you’re scratching your head over an obtuse item puzzle – annoyance. I started throwing things at the watchers, trying to recreate the exploit from Skyrim where you could blind shopkeepers to your thievery by putting baskets over their heads. Even disregarding the point about mobile light sources, the perils of darkness are inconsistently applied: there are pools of deep shadow in the game that are somehow safe to walk through, which means that you always think of the light/dark conceit as a designer’s gimmick.

Still, all that’s small potatoes next to the irritation conjured by the game’s handful of mobile threats. These include a Frankensteiny blur of body parts with a searchlight for a face, whose approach is heralded by the dopplering wail of an ambulance siren. The Frankenstein creature stars in many of the stealth bits, fidgeting around as you try to solve puzzles that take you back and forth across the area. She’s not difficult to avoid, but she’s more of a meddler than an adversary. You kind of wish you could just usher her to a chair and give her a book to read, while you figure things out.

And then there’s the major antagonist of sorts, one of those flapping-head harridans familiar from Jacob’s Ladder who screams and sobs in your ear as you flee down corridors packed with dead ends and moving obstacles. These gauntlet runs throw the game’s lousy checkpointing into sharper relief – die, and you’ll often have to re-complete puzzles and re-experience scares that were pretty unconvincing to begin with.

The areas themselves are charmless and indistinct, not in an exciting, feeling-along-wall-with-danger-nearby way, but in an annoying, stepped-in-dogfood-while-fumbling-for-the-doorhandle way. The game’s buildings are, in theory, iconic chunks of Americana, the kind of thing Remedy revels in, but they all feel interchangeable thanks to furniture-showroom scene composition. The spirit realm is appealing mostly because it’s relatively well-lit, and has a wider colour palette. It’s accessed via magic doors, and creates some fleeting intrigue as you ponder what the differences between realities suggests about the characters and premise.

The puzzles run more of a gamut, quality-wise. Some are inoffensive but insipid, such as turning valves in the right order to activate fire sprinklers and clear a route. Others are slightly more involving. In one later section, the setting flicks rhythmically between realities, giving you a window to hurry past barriers or hazards that don’t exist in the other world. The spirit world conundrums incline towards the goofy – there’s a frightfully unwieldy specimen that has you covering runes with barrels to move blocks around. And some puzzles, like the item hunts, are an absolute chore. At intervals Edward is required to condemn or forgive some local sinner to progress, a series of choices that shapes his own fate. Before you can do this you need to learn everything you can about said unfortunate, which involves picking through dozens of lockers and drawers for backstory documents, often while hiding from Searchlight Lady.

Those Who Remain hints at being a serious exploration of mental illness, but in practice, Edward is just the same old Sad/Mad Dad the horror genre can’t seem to wash its hands of, growling things like “your life feels like a movie” as he lumbers towards the final accounting. The misbehaving men and boys he’s asked to pass judgement on are just as clumsily sketched – I felt nothing towards them, positive or negative. I can’t say the same for the game they’re a part of. If Those Who Remain is a purgatory for wayward souls, its true victim is the player.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/05/those-who-remain-review-a-torturous-exercise-in-mediocrity-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=those-who-remain-review-a-torturous-exercise-in-mediocrity-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

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From Kamal Haasan to Ajith Kumar, meet the bouncers who guard your favourite actors

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/from-kamal-haasan-to-ajith-kumar-meet-the-bouncers-who-guard-your-favourite-actors/

From Kamal Haasan to Ajith Kumar, meet the bouncers who guard your favourite actors

“Are you guys out of your mind? Didn’t we brief you about this well in advance? Where is your boss?…” The event organiser is clearly livid.

I am at a low-key award show, where the organiser is giving a dressing down to a group of visibly mortified bouncers. Their fault? Wearing trainers when the instruction was to wear black shoes, coinciding with their ‘Men in Black’ costume.

As it turns out, such episodes are an occupational hazard. “There can never be an event without errors. Hiccups are bound to happen in our profession,” says S Sathya with a faint smile to imply that the situation is under control.

Towering men in tight T-shirts, condescendingly flexing their muscles, bouncers often seem intimidating to the general public. However, there is more to these men than bulging biceps and that stereotypical menacing gaze. “You can flaunt your physique. But that alone won’t guarantee opportunities. What matters, in this profession, is smart work and the ability to think on your feet,” he says, dispelling the notion that a chiselled body is all that it takes to break into this world.

A wistful watchdog

Sathya is the proprietor of The Expendables Bouncers, which was established in 2011 with the singular intention of providing security to film stars.

Bouncers are enlisted on the basis of three categories of service: nightclub bouncers, personal bodyguards and protocol team. The latter is an expansive service usually reserved for VVIP stars. He cites the example of Hrithik Roshan’s recent trip to Chennai, where his team trailed the actor through the day. “We received him at the airport and took him to a mall in the city. It was quite challenging since over 40,000 people had gathered at the venue.”

Today, his clients include Kamal Haasan, Rajinikanth, Vijay, Ajith Kumar, Salman Khan and Shah Rukh Khan, amongst others. “Wherever the celebrity goes, I follow,” he laughs. His company is responsible for the safety and security of stars, irrespective of the scale of the event — be it an award show, private party or corporate event. So, Sathya is invariably on the lookout for more hires, although he has a “loyal” team of 20. “Staff keep rotating, depending on the event. None of them is a full-time employee and they work for multiple companies at any given time,” he says, adding that they earn anywhere between ₹1,500 to ₹2,500 per person, per event.

After graduating with a diploma in Mechanical Engineering in 2009, Sathya was looking for a way to make easy money to meet household expenses. Like many fitness enthusiast, he was primed to take part in bodybuilding championships. But his quick fix was a part-time job as a bodyguard — a term interchangably used with ‘bouncer’ in the city.

“I still remember my first event, a private party on New Year’s Eve. That was when bouncers first started wearing black T-shirts and track pants,” he recalls, discussing Chennai in the early 2000s. He says he was overwhelmed for the initial few years. For one, there wasn’t much scope for physical work, since they were stationed at one place for up to seven hours. “Nobody briefed us about what was expected; all of us were new. We were paid around ₹150 to ₹200 for an event,” he says.

Sathya adds that the decision to start a full-fledged security service was actually an afterthought, when he had gone to watch The Expendables (2010). “There is a scene where all actors come together in a slow-motion sequence. That made me name my company after the movie,” he says, “Our first event ended with us posing like the iconic still from TheExpendables.”

Each time Sathya gets an offer from a client, he devises a plan keeping in mind entry and exit points, as well as logistical challenges. There is a mandatory briefing session before the event, on the team’s role. “No foul language, no intimidating looks and never get physical… these I insist on,” says Sathya. But, he adds, “It all boils down to the kind of crowd you’re dealing with.”

The hard way

There is one particular memory about a fan, which he describes as “harrowing”. It involved a leading Tamil star, so naturally, it invited eyeballs and shutterbugs. Sathya and his team were occupied with their usual ‘push and nudge’ technique — an approach that blocks the crowd from getting close to actors.

Everything went smoothly until a fan launched himself at the celebrity from the podium, landing just a few feet from him. He says, “We swung into action and formed a human chain. But the star intervened and was gracious enough to pose for a picture with the fan.”

A bouncer’s diary

Sathya works out two hours every day at C3 Fitness in Royapuram. His diet chart for muscle gain is as follows:

Breakfast: Oats and juice.

Lunch: Brown rice with chicken and four egg whites.

Snacks: White bread and fruits.

Dinner: Roti with chicken or beef or tuna.

Vijay and Nayanthara are two stars who have a massive fan following, according to Sathya.

The Expendables Bouncers’ next big event is Master audio launch, scheduled to take place on March 15.

He adds, “People, especially fans, don’t understand our job and tend to get personal. There have been times where I have been abused and hit,” he says.

In his rulebook, the priority is to ensure a safe environment. “You need to gauge the celebrity’s mood and act accordingly,” says Sathya, “ If they are impressed with your work, your name spreads like wildfire in the industry.”

Sathya says he is rarely starstruck. Except for the time when he met his idol Arnold Schwarzenegger. The actor had flown to Chennai for the audio launch of Shankar’s I in 2014.

“From receiving him at the airport to watching him work out at the gym, everything was surreal for me. It’s a feeling only fitness enthusiasts would get,” he says, adding that it was one of the biggest shows he handled, with over 200 bouncers at his disposal.

Other popular bodyguards

Iron Man Bouncers

Men in Black Bouncers

Jaguars Security Services

Another silver lining was a chance to meet Kai Greene when he arrived in the city for a gym launch. “He is like God to me. I couldn’t get time with Arnold, but I spoke to Kai Greene and took a picture with him. I had goosebumps that day.”

Sathya says he cannot afford to skip a gym session and has to pump some iron for at least two hours a day. “The day you gain fat is when you become unfit for this profession. It’s your body that earns you bread and butter.”

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Randomer Encounters

  If you have run a game campaign for any period of time, it becomes apparent that the random encounter tables for your adventurers become stale-dated or dull. Even if there are variations by terrain, climate or civilization, the game-provided tables become repetitive.

One solution to this challenge is to create your own table of “randomer encounters.” This approach has many advantages and can be used in any game system or situation. The primary advantage is that it is customizable to your particular game, adding depth and flavor to your sessions.

How to get started

The first step is to determine how many of these encounters you want to create. Ideally, you want to choose a number of encounters that can be selected at random by using dice. When I first started this concept, I started with 24 of these encounters (which can be randomized by using a 12 sided die with another die (a six-sided would do) to determine if I would add 12 to the result (on a 4 to 6) or not (1 to 3). After further experimentation, I found that 30 of these encounters (a ten-sided die rolled with a six sided die – add 10 if you roll 3 or 4, add 20 if you roll a 5 or 6) work best for my campaign. The point is to create a list where the dice can provide you with an easy, random result.

The random factor is important. As a GM you have control over events and situations that occur in your sessions. By introducing a random factor, you are yielding this control to your list. Ideally, your “randomer encounters” would run the gamut from the frivolous and incidental to the serious and consequential – as long as it fits into your game. It also keeps you on your toes as a GM.

Creating your list of encounters

Once you have your frame, you can start populating the list. This is where the fun is. You can use almost any source for creating these encounters. You can introduce some neighborhood scandal, foreshadow a future event, even note the actions of an NPC or refer to past events within the campaign. For example, if the party had betrayed someone in the past, it may be that this person/organization/demi-god is seeking information on the party (or that a rival of this individual wants to reward the party for their “good works”). This could be represented as “A shifty individual at the Local Pub has been asking questions about the party.”

Rumors are a favorite of mine. In my High Fantasy Campaign, the “randomer encounters” table has led to a persistent rumor that local authorities are considering a tax on magical items. This has been overhead as a bar room conversation, as a worry on the part of an NPC Alchemist, and as a debate between clerics whether or not holy items should be exempt from this tax.

 A randomer encounter might be inserted to foreshadow a future plot hook. They can also be the source of mischief, misdirection and even outright lies. 

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It may be that taxing magical items is a task that is beyond the local authorities. However, it is just a rumor and, as we all know, the crazier the rumor, the quicker it spreads.

A randomer encounter might be inserted to foreshadow a future plot hook (“There is increasing discontent among the aristocrats” or “No one has seen the Chief Mage for two weeks.”). They can also be the source of mischief, misdirection and even outright lies (“I am the heir to the Crown of Eredorre”).

This list of encounters can be used to introduce oddities into your campaign. Again, these can range from something out of Monty Python (“A well-dressed elderly man is walking down the street in a very odd and peculiar manner.”) to a cross-campaign event (“In a mirror, you see a party of strangely dressed adventurers trying to unlock a box of flashing lights.”) or even an encounter drawn from a film or novel. (“Four nervous and travel-worn Halflings are grabbing a quick meal. One appears introverted and moody.”).

These encounters should be suitable for your party’s capabilities.

How to use Randomer Encounters

You want to create opportunities for a quick scene or an interesting dilemma, not starting a new story arc or a creating a wasteful diversion (unless that is what you want). Therefore, you need to exercise some judgement when a “randomer encounter” occurs.

If the action is proceeding quickly, then an encounter of any kind is likely to be an unwelcome diversion. If the party is just waiting for the next day to occur, or if the GM needs to stimulate some new thinking, then an unusual encounter might be a good choice.

These encounters should be used to complement the existing random encounter tables. Typically, a random encounter reflects the local surroundings. It may be an encounter with wild beast while travelling through the forest or just part of the dungeon ecology. A “randomer encounter” should occur as part of the overall randomness of your living world.

Whenever an encounter is rolled, I re-roll to see if there is the possibility that the list be used. Typically, I roll a six-sided die, with a six indicating a “randomer encounter.” Sometimes, especially when things are dragging or the party becomes indecisive, I go straight to the list.

I always roll for a random result from the list. The unexpected is always fun and It keeps me sharp with regard to my own game mastering abilities.

Some Examples

  High Fantasy (Urban) Randomer Encounters

1 A well-dressed Half-Orc is trying to sell an “ugly chicken” inside a locked box. (It’s a cockatrice.) 2 An alchemist is closing shop and items are at half-price. (Low quality products) 3 A handsome prince is desperately searching for the women who lost her shoe at the Ball. 4 The gall stones of red-headed Halflings give invincible luck to gamblers. 5 You are accosted in the street by a crone who claims you stole her youth. 6 The Eunuch’s Guild is recruiting – males only! 7 Graffiti is found in a nearby alley “Chaos is Boss!���, “Lawful is Awful.” 8 A pedlar is selling Amulets of Demonic Protection – a deal at 5 gold pieces each. (A scam) 9 Street urchins are running in fear from a gang of thugs. (Urchins have stolen their beer money). 10 A mage is looking for spell test volunteers (polymorph). 50 gp for each volunteer. (A lot more to be changed back.)

    Space/Sci-Fi Randomer Encounters

1 The authorities are trying to keep knowledge of sabotage at the space port secret. 2 A desperate person is willing to part with longevity serum (reduces age by five years) for transport off-planet. 3 Protesters are picketing a local educational institution. “Down with the Eugenics Ban!” 4 Some children are playing Rangers and Aliens with an antique blaster (non-working but fixable.) 5 An autodrive cart is running down pedestrians at a nearby mall. 6 A “red shirt” crew member is deserting because she fears being killed on the next OA mission. 7 An Artificial Intelligence is seeking work after being fired for being “too controlling.” 8 Would you buy a pill to make you smarter? Of course, you would! (Reduces social inhibitions) 9 An asteroid mining company is looking for recruits. “Double Hazard Pay and great benefits!” 10 Organizers for the Robot Union are soliciting new members.

Using randomer encounters supports the overall thrust and character of your game. You can use them to shake things up or to finish off the tail-end of a session. It does require you to think about your campaign world and explore some interesting tangents. What would your table of “Randomer Encounters” look like?

  Randomer Encounters published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

[titoslondon-blog]

New Post has been published on Titos London

#Blog New Post has been published on http://www.titoslondon.co.uk/vero-moda-champions-the-cause-of-sustainable-fashion/

Vero Moda champions the cause of sustainable fashion

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VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

VM/Aware collection

MM/VM Marrakech jacket

MM/VM Marrakech pants

MM/VM Marrakech pants

MM/VM Singlet dress

Malene Malling, Creative Director, Vero Moda

Just by the nature of its operations, fashion can take a toll on the environment. Fast fashion has been criticised for its contribution to global warming, waste disposal hazards, and the alarming working conditions of the employees manufacturing the clothes. Given the heat brands face on the matter, creating a conscious fashion industry is the need of the hour.

‘Aware’ is Vero Moda’s first step towards bridging this gap between fast fashion and a more sustainable world. Equal parts cool and conscious, this standalone collection is packed with covetable staples made from four eco-friendly materials, namely, tencel, recycled polyester, recycled cotton and organic cotton, that reduce the load on natural resources used during production.

Vogue catches up with Malene Malling, creative director at Vero Moda, at their headquarters in Denmark, who tells us everything she envisions for the Danish womenswear brand.

How has the label evolved since it started? Vero Moda has been on a very interesting journey since it was launched 30 years ago. We try to keep our clothing on trend, with good quality that is accessible at a great price.

Take us through the Aware collection and the inspiration behind it. It’s hard to ignore the impact the fashion industry has on the planet and the environmental challenges we face. Aware rethinks wardrobe staples and the classics in a sustainable way. Every item in this collection has a Scandi-chic touch of elegant modernity. Besides, it complements the current Vero Moda collections and is also easy to style with your existing wardrobe.

How are you changing your offering to cater to a larger audience that doesn’t only include millennials? I believe that great taste doesn’t come with an age tag. I am inspired by super cool, young girls and sophisticated and stylish elderly women alike. For me, great taste and great style is not about age. It is about knowing what suits you, dressing according to your mood, and being a little adventurous.

What, according to you, are some of the biggest trends of the season? Strong denim, slip dresses, beautiful colours, pyjama suits—but then I find the feminine, masculine dialogue forever interesting.

Have you customised your products to suit the tastes of the Indian audience? If yes, how? I think of India as a cool, fashion-forward place so I haven’t changed it for the Indian market. Just like the collection hasn’t been changed for Paris. It is an international collection with a lot of pretty pastels and reds that look beautiful in the stunning India light.

How important is social media to high street brands? Used in the right way, social media can be hugely influential. It can inspire as well as inform. And it can keep a constant dialogue going with your customers. Aside from having Vero Moda on Instagram, I have just launched MM/VM on Instagram, because it is a great way of showing cool girls wearing our clothes. Real women with life experience and attitude who are beautiful, but also so much more than that.

How do you think online shopping is changing the current fashion scene? It is giving power to the consumer, because it means that you [the consumer] can show fashion houses what you actually want, and not be so dependent on someone having bought a particular style for their store. It is making the current fashion scene exiting, fresh. And more daring. However, I also love entering a well-edited shop where the owner clearly gets what the customer wants.

Where do you envision your label in the next 10 years? It will be the most interesting fashion brand on high street.

Are there any collaborations in the pipeline? We have lots of really exciting new stuff going on at Vero Moda all the time. One of the amazing things about the fashion industry is that it doesn’t stand still, that it keeps evolving. However, other than that, my second MM/VM collection is coming out in October.

The Aware collection will be available starting October 2017 at select Vero Moda stores in the country

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