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andy-the-8th · 3 years

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Day Of and Day After - Jess (Part 1)

First part of Creatures That Defy Logic - picks up right at the end of the movie

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There are a lot emotions wrapped up in seeing your best friend transform into a merman

"I finally get a friend, and he turns into a fish; this is so typical."

Damn, there were a lot of feelings wrapped up in the last few minutes. Jess had always been better with facts over feelings - science was straightforward, people were complicated. The whirlpool of emotions over such a quick span of time even more complicated, for him as well as everyone else there on the dock.

Exhilaration and awe - it was one thing to have been alongside Cody for the last few weeks, see his changes, speculate and then know he was a merman, in theory - and another thing entirely to see him fully transform and breach with a glittering tail right in broad daylight. Not exactly every day that creatures (people?) straight out of mythology just appear right in front of you. And the excitement that they'd get to hear about whatever he saw when he was away? New sealife, mysteries of the open oceans, may even merpeople culture? One hell of a prospect for anyone, triply so for an aspiring marine biologist.

Relief - more of a twofold sensation as well. Most prominently in the last few minutes, it certainly was a relief to not be dead. Almost drowning, no vital signs, shocked back to life by merman lightning - that'll do a wild number on your feelings about your own mortality. Still, Jess was kind of surprised that that wasn't the main sense of relief he felt right now.

Much more powerfully, he was relieved that Cody was safe. That boy's lack of self-preservation had scared Jess half to death plenty of times over - risking himself at the swim meets, ignoring the advice to stay away from the water, potentially blowing his cover to Sean or the school or worse. Whether or not it was normal to care so much, Jess didn't know or really care - he had spent plenty of nights unable to sleep, worried sick with images of cruel scientists, cold laboratory tanks, faceless men in black suits, dissection tables, taxidermists, freak shows - all kinds of threats, and the only thing Jess could about them was to try to keep Cody's secret.

So all that in mind, there was the relief that Cody had finally gotten away from all of that. Going off with his mermaid mom (mermom?), another mythological creature as far as 99.99% of the world knew, safely out to sea. Maybe that was merpeople's best protection, that short of having physical evidence, most of the world didn't believe in them - guess that's how they manage to avoid discovery. Most people anyway. On that topic though, the next feeling Jess was dealing with -

Anger. This one didn't even really start to register until after Cody had resurfaced to wave goodbye one last time, but thinking about all the threats he'd been afraid of, Jess couldn't avoid the conclusion that his own father should have been at the top of that list. Hadn't he literally just kidnapped his friend to use him as bait? What had been his plan then, if he'd caught Cody's mom? His dad's mermaid obsession had just been a mundane fact of life growing up - a kind of sad, fruitless endeavor. He didn't like to think his dad was crazy, but it didn't mean he really had believed his mermaid stories and theories since he'd grown out of that. It was just like any parent's eccentric hobby - kind of embarrassing sometimes but ultimately innocuous, right? Jess hadn't ever thought of how dangerous it might have been if his father had caught on - and he mentally kicked himself for not making that connection, for not planning for it, for not talking his dad out of it - Jess had basically caught him at the swim meet, and guessed he'd have put it together when Jess was reading through his mermaid theory papers, talking about the thirteenth year theory - but actually capturing Cody and his mom? The dull, cold fear that had caught in Jess's throat when he'd seen his father testing the giant net, when he'd biked at top speed to the Griffin's house, when he'd found the cove empty, Cody already gone -

Well, at least the upside of almost-dying was shocking John Wheatley into the danger of his actions, to his own son if not the merpeople. Jess was pretty sure his father just hadn't been thinking of the consequences past simply catching the mermaid - was never really much of a realist like that.

This didn't make Jess any less angry with him.

On top of all of these feelings, and maybe least expected - loss?

He definitely wasn't expecting that. Sure, the feeling of loss was all around him - however temporary his departure, Cody going away was definitely crossing a line. He wasn't human, and for each person on the dock, that meant on some level, he wasn't really theirs anymore. Sam was losing her boyfriend, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin their child. In a way even his dad was losing his proof to justify his obsessive search over the last 13 years. Sure, Jess was losing his friend, but hadn't their relationship been built around helping Cody through this transformation? What was he losing, if this was just the logical endpoint? He'd known where the transformation was headed, and he didn't expect to feel anything other than scientific satisfaction now it was done.

Jess told himself it was natural to feel like this; humans are social creatures, empathy has been one of our strongest survival tools over the course of our evolution. To solve problems together. To care about each other. Like it or not, we feel how the others around us feel, in one way or another. It was simple science.

His whole time with Cody had been like the best science project ever - an fantastical extension of the assignment that had brought them together. The thrill of getting to know him had been tied to the thrill of discovering his new abilities, helping him test them, spending hours talking through theories and myths. From a purely scientific standpoint, spending time with Cody was fascinating. It was simply to be expected that he'd want to spend as much time with him as he could - as a scientist.

What Jess hadn't expected was Cody's interest in getting to know him in turn. It made sense - Cody was going through strange changes, and Jess was the closest source of finding answers. And more or less, Jess knew that that was the glue of their friendship. He wasn't bothered by that, really.

Of course Cody would listen attentively when he went off on a string of marine biology theories, whether to get ahead in school or to make sense of his transformations. Of course he'd start asking Jess to hang out when they were free - no one else knew what was going on, and he'd been drifting away from his real friends. Cody didn't trust anyone else with the secret - and that was simple self-preservation, to seek out a scientist, rather than a friend. Especially someone who wouldn't blow the secret.

And there had been a kind of special thrill in that for the first few weeks - Jess got to be the only one who knew. Jess got to be the only one who Cody trusted.

A purely scientific thrill.

Jess suddenly shivered as the salty breeze picked up a bit, snapping him out of his own head and the feelings rushing through it. Cody had probably only been gone a few minutes, even if it felt like hours. Mrs. Griffin was still quietly crying, leaning back on Mr. Griffin, both of them still facing the water. Jess didn't really know if he was supposed to say anything to them, or leave them to each other. Should he confront his dad now? Should he try to talk to Sam? oh god he should apologize for the kissing comment but would that just make it worse?

The silence grew more tense for the next several moments, until Sam finally spoke.

"I - I guess I'll just be going home now." Jess could hear that she was pushing to sound confident after crying. She shook her long red hair back behind her shoulders and readjusted her shirt as she stood up straight.

"Oh hon, don't worry, we can drive you back to your place." Mrs. Griffin looked up, finding her voice again, almost sounding relieved to be able to help someone, do something.

"No thanks, Mrs. G, I want to walk. I want to, uh, decompress. Take some time alone to, to y'know, process this. Just feel like I should get some air" she finished hurriedly, with a half-laugh, at the normality of the statement. She nodded awkwardly as she backed away, toward the steps leading up from the floating dock, a pursed-lips-everything's-fine-fake-smile on her face. "Jess, I'll see you at school then?"

Sam had almost never acknowledged him outside of talking through or next to Cody, so Jess gave a somewhat confused nod and tried to smile at her. They only had one day of school left, mostly to pack up books, say goodbye to everyone, and leave for the summer.

"OK wait then" Mrs. Griffin was quickly more serious, purposeful. "I know this would probably go without saying, but you kids cannot tell anyone what happened here." She was talking at Jess and Sam, but had an uncharacteristically sharp glare at Big John as she said this. He didn't miss that, and immediately looked penitent and cowed.

Clearly, Jess wasn't the only one angry at his father for using Cody as live bait.

"Of course!" Jess immediately responded emphatically, even a bit incredulously. He was almost put out that she felt the need to say this, as if they all hadn't - as if he hadn't, longer than anyone - kept Cody's secret safe.

"We'll, um...we'll just tell the school, um..." she was casting about, turning to her husband, looking for a quick explanation.

"Hon we don't need to tell the school anything right now - it's summer vacation, it's not that weird to leave a day early."

"No, we need to be clear, we need a convincing story -

"If anyone really asks we can say he's doing a swim training camp, and he'll be away most of the summer" Mr. Griffin offered, a slight twinge of his usual humor back in his inflection. "It's not really that far from the truth. We'll say it's somewhere in Australia, far enough away from anyone looking to visit or call. And your sister lives out there anyway." He put his hand on his wife's shoulder - Jess thought it looked like he was reassuring and steadying himself as much as he was for her.

Sharon breathed quickly, calming herself. "OK, perfect!" Mrs. Griffin clearly seemed relieved - not calmed, but at least less frantic. Jess was also happy to have something simple and straightforward to tell anyone who asked.

Not like anyone will ask *me* anyway he thought. Jess always had been used to being more or less invisible when it came to social gossip at school, which he honestly preferred. And furthermore, probably for the better, it wasn't like anyone really associated him with Cody, even the teachers. At least not in any meaningful way beyond biology homework. No one would think to ask the nerd that Cody Griffin got unluckily saddled with for a science project what had happened to him.

"OK. OK, good. I'll see you all later then." Sam was hurriedly wiping her face as she turned on her heel, dashing up the steps to the main pier above the floating dock. She was quickly out of sight.

"Jess, you wanna go home, get dried off?" His dad was looking at him now, worry still coating his words. John Wheatley was not a particularly emotional man when it came to anything other than fishing and sea monster stories, but he clearly had not forgotten how close a call his son had just had. "Maybe go to a doctor?"

Jess could hear Mrs. Griffin's sharp intake of breath at what Cody had always humorously called "the D word." Thinking of Cody laughing at that caused the corner of Jess's mouth to twitch up for a second. But once his dad had turned to him, Jess could still see Mrs. Griffin staring daggers into his back.

"No I'll be fine. I feel fine, really." Jess could hear his anger seeping into his own voice and inflection but didn't really care. John Wheatley may have been more thoughtless than he was malicious, but that wasn't enough for Jess to forgive him right now, and he was still too much of a mess of emotions to process any of that with other people.

"I'm going to head home. Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, um, have a good summer?" His inflection put it through as a question - he wasn't really sure what to say but at least that sounded funny enough to deflate the situation as much as possible. It worked - both the Griffins kind of quietly laughed at that.

"You too Jess. We'll see you soon." Jess smiled back at Mrs. Griffin's words, then hesitantly started to walk back up the dock. He was actually surprised that he didn't feel any dizziness or illness after being revived - apparently merman-made hand (fin?) defibrillation worked wonders for the body. He turned and started up the steps roughly, quickening as he reached the top. Big John didn't move to stop him, pausing awkwardly at the foot of the steps, clearly getting the message that Jess didn't want to talk to him right now. Jess reached the main dock and turned across the parking lot of the marina, down the little road toward the family boat yard and sheds, shoulders straight, and not looking back.

#the thirteenth year #mermen #mermaid #dcom #disney #disney channel original movies

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timeagainreviews · 4 years

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“The Faceless Ones” gets a facelift

Back in 2011 when I was first getting into Doctor Who, I managed to track down the Loose Cannon Reconstructions of the missing Doctor Who episodes. For those, like myself, who did not grow up on Doctor Who, classic Doctor Who can be a bit of an adjustment. The editing is slower. The dialogue is closer to theatre than television, and there is so much padding. That being said, over time I grew to love classic Doctor Who and rewatch it more than I do the new series. Regardless, the reconstructions have always been a bit of a slog to get through.

Watching a reconstruction is tedious, even with good writing. The fleeting moments where some fan shot a four-second clip pointed at the television are like small oases of movement in the desert of static imagery. Despite the valiant efforts of some truly talented fans, nothing will ever beat the real thing. So whenever a new animated remake of a missing Doctor Who episode is announced, I get excited. The opportunity to see these static images once more brought to life with movement is always good news. Except maybe when that announcement is "Fury From the Deep," when clearly "The Evil of the Daleks," is next in line, but that’s a gripe for another review.

For my review of "The Macra Terror," I watched the colour version of the story. However, this time around, I decided to stick with the classic black and white, which I found I much prefer as it feels appropriate to the storyline. I almost feel like the colour versions are an attempt to rope a younger audience into watching something old. As these animated reconstructions go, I feel as though the animation has gotten increasingly better. However, I can’t exactly say that this time. I will go into it further but suffice it to say, I feel as though some corners were cut. That isn’t to say that there aren’t moments of brilliance. For instance, the inclusion of the mugshots of both the Roger Delgado and Sacha Dhawan Masters into the background was a clever little easter egg.

"The Faceless Ones," is a bit of an odd story from beginning to end. Frankly, it’s overly long and a bit clunky, but at its heart is a mystery that keeps you wrapt with anticipation. It starts with the Doctor and his three companions- Jamie, Polly, and Ben landing the TARDIS at Gatwick airport. It’s a strange bit of storytelling from the outset as the primary source of conflict comes from the fact that the Doctor and his friends are trespassing where they shouldn’t be. The Doctor basically says "Cheese it, the fuzz!" and they scatter, running away from the police. The true point of this sequence is to split the group up. While running from the police, a strange group of mystrerious men load the TARDIS onto a flatbed and drive it away. Polly wanders into a building with a chameleon logo, where she witnesses the ray gun murder of a nosy inspector. Now the story has focus, we now have a mystery.

The Doctor and his pals go in and out of states of capture at the hands of airport security with such regularity that it begins to become laughable. Having no passports, the Commandant wants to keep the Doctor and Jamie for questioning, but the Doctor insists they look for the body of the man Polly saw murdered. The airport’s Commandant fills the role of the insufferable prick trope just long enough to draw the proceedings out into a proper six-episode runtime. I understand the need for a character’s refusal to believe in aliens as a reasonable reaction, but it becomes repetitive after three or so episodes. Luckily, the man actually proves to be rather useful further down the line, which is a nice break from the usual trajectory of such characters in Doctor Who which is usually one that leads to their and/or others’ demise. He does eventually acquiesce and go looking for the body, but they find nothing.

We learn that the man murdered was an inspector by the name of "Gascoigne." The men responsible for his death, Spencer and Blade, believe he may have been sent by the parents of one or more missing people. There are a few pieces to the puzzle early on. We’re shown a collection of postcards, over which Gascoigne was murdered. There also is the case of this strange organisation- Chameleon Tours and their collection of unused foreign stamps. We know the two things play in together, but how exactly is unknown. All the while, Ben seems to bumble from scene to scene with not a lot to do other than save people at the last moment, which seems to be all he’s ever really good for. As final stories for companions go, "The Faceless Ones," does a great job making a case for the departure of both Ben and Polly. As opposed to going out on a high, Ben and Polly’s own uselessness is highlighted here as they almost seem like an afterthought.

This is made even more painfully obvious when the brand new character of Samantha Briggs is given more prominence and agency within her first scene than Ben or Polly get in the entire serial. We learn that Chameleon Tours is some sort of front for a shady bunch of aliens that replace people by taking over their identities. Polly, having been kidnapped is replaced by a body double, pitting her against the Doctor and Jamie. Acting as though she’s never seen the two, she goes off to work at her new job as a receptionist for Chameleon Tours. This is where we meet Samantha, a young girl from Liverpool searching for her lost brother. All she had to go on was a postcard from her brother sent from Rome. Polly’s double benefits in no way by helping her learn the truth, so Samantha’s enquiries are deflected.

Around this time, Inspector Gascoigne’s partner, Inspector Crossland, has gone looking for him which leads him to the Commandant. He informs him that he’s there investigating his missing partner and looking into the activities of Chameleon Tours. Throughout this bit of the story, I honestly couldn’t tell you what Ben is up to. He’s a fart in the wind as far as the story is concerned. Other than being sent off to investigate, there is very little for him to do. The fact is, this is the Doctor and Jamie show at this point. The Doctor once again tries to plead with the Commandant, and once again runs away feigning a bomb with a bouncy ball. Jamie goes off to eavesdrop in the waiting area outside Chameleon Tours, which is where he overhears Samantha talking to fake Polly.

All the while, the baddies have a mole in the air traffic control room in the form of Meadows, a man replaced by a chameleon body double early on in the story. Because of this, they know the Doctor is a threat. While Jamie and Samantha flirt and compare notes, the Doctor heads back to the Chameleon Tours hangar to seek out Ben and further answers. There he discovers a penlike device which was used earlier to kidnap Polly. The Doctor pockets the device and continues his investigation. It is at this moment when the Doctor discovers the original Meadows in a crate, unresponsive, but seemingly alive. Spencer watches the Doctors activities over CCTV and draws him into a room which he proceeds to fill with cold gas. After a struggle, the Doctor plugs the gas nozzles with rags and covers the camera with his oversized coat. Upon arriving, Spencer finds the Doctor, seemingly unconscious, that is, until the Doctor springs awake and sprays Spencer in the face with the pen device and makes a break for it.

Jamie and Samantha have pieced together by now that Chameleon Tours give their young passengers pre-stamped postcards ahead of their flights. Their claim is to save the travellers time by posting the postcards for them, but in actuality, this is to dupe their families into believing they made it to their destinations. It’s a rather sinister plot which still leaves quite a few unanswered questions. Namely- if the passengers don’t arrive at their destinations, where do they end up? It’s enough for Crossland to consider a lead which he brings to the Commandant’s attention, but they’re afraid to tip their hand too much. If they halt the Chameleon Tours flight to Zurich, they may never find the answers or evidence they’re looking for.

The Doctor finally wins the Commandant over to his side by showing him the pen device can freeze fake Meadows’ tea instantly. At first, I thought the Doctor was antagonising Meadows, but it turns out, he simply didn’t recognise his face from the catatonic man in the crate earlier. It’s funny to imagine this, as modern Doctor Who would never allow such a lapse in the Doctor’s memory, but it’s part of why I love the Second Doctor so much. You can buy that this man is simultaneously the smartest man in the room, while also believing he would forget such an important face. There’s a sort of effortless absent-minded brilliance to Troughton’s performance that I just find utterly charming. The point is driven home by a small little one-off line where the Doctor asks Meadows if they have met before. Villains are left to wonder just how much the Doctor knows, up until he’s standing over their smouldering corpse muttering "Oh crumbs."

After the Doctor’s display, and Crossland’s encouragement, the Commandant gives the Doctor free reign of the airport for twelve hours to investigate. At this point, Jamie and Samantha arrive with the envelope of postcards giving Crossland enough cause to go question Blade. The Doctor, Jamie, and Samantha head off to look into the room where the Doctor was gassed. However, as the Doctor is leaving, Meadows plants a device on his back. Crossland finds Blade aboard a flight but discovers the plane is not a normal plane at all. After serving the passengers food and drinks, the stewardess seals them behind a giant vault door. I got a kick out of this bit as the animators were clearly having fun designing hip '60s inspired passengers on the plane. In fact, some of the background character designs throughout most of this serial range from inspired to questionable. Either way, it was nice to seem them at least trying, for the most part. The plane disembarks with Crossland aboard. Blade encourages Crossland to watch on a screen as the passengers vanish into thin air.

Meanwhile, the Doctor, Jamie, and Samantha go back to the hangar to try and find the command centre of the Chameleons. While searching, they discover a monitor showing a live feed from the room where Meadows was copied into fake Meadows. However, before they can go search for the room, the device on the Doctor’s back is activated, knocking him to the ground. Spencer emerges and renders them unconscious with another pen device. Upon waking up, our three heroes have discovered themselves unable to move, and in the path of a laser, very slowly creeping toward them, or at least Jamie or maybe Samantha. Either way, someone is going to die if they don’t work fast enough. This is such a cute moment in the episode as it’s like something from a bad James Bond film or Austin Powers. The villain leaves the heroes unattended while a laser slowly inches toward them. Classic.

It’s moments like these that really make me sad the episode is missing as I would have loved to see the faces Patrick Troughton pulled while struggling to move. Jamie and Samantha are able to move just enough for Jamie to use Samantha’s compact mirror to deflect the laser back at itself. Having destroyed the machine, the trio is suddenly very much not paralysed as they all stand up, good as new. Adorable. It’s a great little slice of campy goodness that is pure genre inspired fun. I’m all about it. All the while, Blade informs his director that he has an "original," in the form of Crossland for him to possess.

The Doctor and his friends find the conversion room where the airport medic, Nurse Pinto, is helping convert another Chameleon. The conversion involves attaching what looks like a Wiimote to each subjects’ forearm and transferring the biological information of the human victim to the Chameleon. After some adjusting, they’re able to talk like a human and even recall the memories of their original. In this case, it’s Jenkins, one of the immigration officers at the airport. I rather liked a small detail here that Jenkins still lived with his parents. Call me crazy, but it was a bit of character building that made you feel for a guy. Classic Doctor Who is full of those moments if you know where to look for them.

The Doctor and Jamie pretend to be a doctor and patient as to throw Pinto off their scent. But even if she believes their story, she’s still not going to allow them into the X-ray room where she performs her vile conversions. Jenkins and Spencer watch from a monitor, angry that their enemy has once again escaped his fate. But they let the Doctor leave as they have bigger plans and will let him come to them in his own time. Upon returning to the control tower, the Doctor learns that Crossland has been unheard from in quite some time.

At about this time, the crew of the control tower really begins to take shape. The secretary, a woman named Jean just kind of comes out of leftfield as MVP. First, she drops the bomb that not a single airport has reported ever receiving passengers from a Chameleon Tours flight. And then even further, allows herself to act as a decoy long enough for the Doctor to go root around in the X-ray room. Jamie goes off to find Samantha who has bought a ticket on the next Chameleon Tours flight in an attempt to take the investigation of her missing brother into her own hands. It seemed a bit weird to me that she would do this, seeing as they were already uncovering a huge chunk of the mystery at this point, but I guess the writers needed a reason to thrust Jamie into the action as he pockets Samantha’s ticket and goes in her place. That is, before stealing a rather saucy kiss from the precocious lass. Seriously, why was she never a companion? Samantha was awesome. Samantha 2020.

The Doctor finds two of the Wiimotes and completely misses the original Nurse Pinto propped up in a closet behind him. Once again, the brilliant imbecile misses the biggest clue right under his nose. Hoping to call Meadows out, the Doctor returns to the control tower again. But he’s not there. This is one of the most frustrating elements of this story- the constant back and forth between locations is enough to give you whiplash. On top of that, there is the constant cycle of capture and escape, capture and escape, capture and escape, that really bogs this story down. I wish it could have been more streamlined because as you may guess, they end up back in the X-ray room shortly after. Agh! Pick a fucking location and stick with it! Honestly, it’s writing like this that loses me the most and is why I couldn’t tell you where Ben is at this point in the story. Seriously, where is Ben? I don’t even care anymore.

Jamie gets taken onto Samantha’s flight in her stead. Only when the food and beverages are served, Jamie is off to be sick in the loo. He was referring to aeroplanes as giant metal beasties in the first episode, and now he’s flying in one. The dude may be made of sterner stuff, but even the best of us get airsick. Due to this, Jamie doesn’t disappear like the other passengers. Must be something to do with the food and drink, huh? Having realised Jamie took her ticket, Samantha becomes irate, but the receptionist guides her to Jenkins who of course pulls a ray gun on her. Another ray gun. Another capture. Woof.

The control tower tails the Rome flight with Jamie aboard with a small fighter jet, which honestly is a little weird. Did they just happen to have this fighter jet and pilot on hand? Is this a thing airports usually have? I honestly don’t know. Either way, the sequence doesn’t make much sense other than maybe they had some stock footage of a jet they kind of thought was cool. It’s funny then that the footage should now be missing and thus needs to be recreated by a computer years later. What was probably ten minutes of film splicing back in the '60s is now hours of rendering. These CGI plane shots are honestly one of the few times where the animation is more impressive than live action. So kudos to the animation department as those shots are genuinely cool.

Despite their cool rendering, the fighter jet is no match for Blade’s lasers as it is quickly shot out of the sky. It is just around this point that the Chameleon flight must have also crashed as it too disappeared off the radar. However, the Doctor believes that as opposed to going down, the plane actually went up- into space. Of course, the Commandant gives this theory zero credence. But the Doctor is absolutely correct as we see the plane’s wings fold back like a rocket ship and thrust higher and higher into the sky until it approaches a large black satellite orbiting Earth. This is once again one of those moments where I am cursing the lack of footage as I would relish the ability to see the models built for this sequence. I will say however, this is, once again, a crowning moment for the animation department.

Now aboard the satellite and unaffected by the plane’s vanishing trick, Jamie discovers drawers full of what appear to be small people lying unconscious. At this point, the plot still hasn’t really come fully together, so seeing tiny people in drawers is just mind-boggling. You think you have some idea as to how or why these bodysnatchers are doing what they’re doing and the story throws us this brain bender. Hats off to the writers because I challenge anyone to say they saw this bit coming ahead of time. As it turns out the passengers didn’t vanish, so much as they were shrunk down into tiny people. The reason why? Because the satellite wasn’t big enough. Which actually makes a lot of sense in some ways. Terry Pratchett once wrote that a gnome character of his was the richest man in Ankh-Morpork, by ratio. If his resources stretch further, then a dollar buys him more than it would a full-sized man. Brilliant.

After discovering the jet pilot was electrocuted (by lasers somehow), the Commandant is beginning to soften to the idea that the Doctor is onto something with his spacemen theory. After confronting Meadows with the Wiimotes, our MVP Jean stops his ass with a rolling chair. Seriously, I love Jean. Jean 2020. At this point, Meadows just kind of becomes their bitch and totally spills the beans about their plans. How their planet faced a catastrophe and how they needed new bodies, new faces. He even gives up the satellite position and the fact that they have some 50,000 young people on board, ready for conversion. He even leads them to where the real Nurse Pinto is being held. I think if they’d have broken out the thumbscrews he would have copped to kidnapping the Lindbergh baby. What a chump.

Around this time in the story, the animation begins to take a serious nosedive. Nurse Pinto kills a policeman with a ray gun, and I swear to God that the policeman has a partner that looks exactly like him. Now, I know this is a story about body doubles, but reusing the same character design on two separate human characters in the same scene is just lazy. I thought at first that perhaps the actors in the original version were twins. But then, later on, you see two of the same faced cops in a scene together again! So it’s not just twins, it’s triplets, evidently. And they all grew up to be coppers on the same beat. Sorry animators, but you’re nicked!

Shortly after, the link between Nurse Pinto and her original is broken and fake Nurse Pinto turns into a pile of clothing and some sort of amniotic fluid. Her water just broke in the worst way possible. I’ve said it before, but part of me wishes they would improve upon some of the foley in moments like these. Mark Ayres does a great job mixing and remastering what was already there, but would some sound effects be completely out of line? Some squidgy squashy mess would have gone a long way to sell this moment. I figure a seasoned Doctor Who pro like Ayres would really be able to deliver such a thing. Also, if you ever get curious to know what Mark Ayres looks like, I’ll save you a google search and just say- he looks exactly how you picture a guy named Mark Ayres to look. Just a little fun fact there.

The real Nurse Pinto and the Doctor decide to pretend to be chameleons at this point so they can infiltrate the satellite. However, Spencer’s not having it as he’s onto them, but he allows it because he has plans to take turn the Doctor into an original for yet another Chameleon. Upon arriving on the satellite, the Doctor discovers Jamie has been turned into a Chameleon as well, which is rather funny as the Doctor laments the loss of Jamie’s charming Scottish accent. Those two, I swear. It’s as Frank Rossitano from 30 Rock once said "I’m not gay gay. I’m just gay for Jamie." Before they can turn the Doctor into one of their ilk, the Doctor destroys their machine buying the Commandant down on the ground some time to find the originals the Chameleons were linked to.

All the while, the Doctor is sowing seeds of doubt among the Chameleons that their director, in the form of Crossland, only cares for himself. That he wouldn’t care if he endangered them into becoming puddles themselves. He drives the point home by bluffing that they have found the locations of the originals. It’s a gambit that actually seems to work as Spencer and his men begin to question their director. The Commandant, on the ground level, is still plugging away, trying to save the day from his end. I kind of love the Commandant for following through with the Doctor’s bluff, and with such gusto. As I said, he really comes into his own by the end of the story. It’s kind of a shame that the guy never got a name. In the same vein as Counter Measures, I could see him, Jean, and maybe even Crossland in their own spin off adventures. They’re really a great group of one-off characters. Nurse Pinto and Samantha can come too.

It’s rather weird to me that the Chameleons opted to hide the originals as opposed to just taking them with them in the first place. After Samantha and Jean discover 25 cars registered to Chameleon Tours, they set off to search the car park. We find out that the catatonic originals have been stowed away in the cars to slowly die while the conversions complete. This may seem like a really dumb place to stash a body, but it’s not exactly unheard of. The airport of the city I’m from actually missed a truck containing the body of a man for eight months. Either way, it’s an odd little plot hole that exists mainly to give the Doctor something to hold onto and create dissent within the ranks. There is literally no reason not to take the bodies until the process is done. But ok.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the great stool pigeon that is Meadows, grows a pair and escapes from his guards. This is where the animation gets really ropey. I don’t know if it’s because the black and white versions are a 4:3 aspect ratio as compared to the 16:9 ratio of the colour versions, but as Meadows wrestles free, his body proportions are comically incorrect. His arms look about several inches too short, and they are positioned in such a way that the shoulders are set far too high. My guess is that the animators originally made this scene for the widescreen ratio, and merely squashed the image, thus shortening the arms for the black and white version. As opposed to, you know, bending the elbows. He tries to subdue Samantha but eats pavement. Slow clap for Meadows. Meadows 2016.

To prove they aren’t bluffing, the Commandant removes the link on Jenkins arm which turns him into a puddle aboard the satellite. This sends the Chameleons into a frenzy and they shoot their director, killing fake Jamie in the process. The Doctor negotiates with the remaining Chameleons to return all of the missing people and even agrees to help them find a cure for the catastrophe that set them on this path in the first place. After finding Crossland stuffed in a locker like a high schooler, he and Jamie go back home.

Down on the ground level, Jamie parts ways with Samantha, which is really kind of sad considering what a great character she turned out to be. What's even worse is that with Ben and Polly up and deciding to stay in 1966 London for basically the most boring of reasons, there was definitely a vacant spot for her to fill in the TARDIS. I would have really liked to see her as I instantly identified with her plight to find her brother. My family has experienced the disappearance of a loved one, and I know exactly how that feels to not know whether someone you love is alive or dead. They absolutely nailed that part of her character, and it was great to see it portrayed accurately. She could have been great. Instead, she stays behind and Jamie continues onward with the Doctor. However, the episode ends on a note of mystery- the TARDIS appears to be missing! Hopefully one day I’ll be able to follow up on that mystery with yet another animation to review, but until then, you’ll just have to wait! That is unless you already know.

All in all, the Faceless Ones is a pretty cool story with some rather lousy execution. There are quite a lot of moments that work to its benefit, but it’s marred by it’s bloated runtime. This story could have easily been told in four parts, and I feel as though it was a perfect candidate to be edited down into a single movie à la "Planet of Fire," or "Terror of the Vervoids." The strongest elements are the characters. And another bit of praise is that it was a slight departure from the base in peril episodes that dominated the Second Doctor Era. I do rather like Brian Hodgson’s score as it was genuinely creepy at parts. It evokes memories in me of the Woodsmen in Twin Peaks dancing to the impossibly slowed sounds of Beethoven’s "Moonlight Sonata."

Regardless of any ropey bits of animation, I absolutely admire the work and craft of the animators involved. The character likenesses were an improvement upon "The Macra Terror," (especially Polly). There are points where you know the production team had to invent shots from thin air to fill the gaps that existing tele-snaps and sound simply weren’t illustrating. There’s a lot of creativity involved that evokes a lot of the same spirit of the original series. There’s also those really fun opportunities to retroactively tie the old series to the new. Such as the Dhawan Master, or yet another Magpie Electricals reference. Although they are far from my favourite companions, it’s also nice to finally see Ben and Polly’s send off in proper motion. As always, it’s the next best thing to the original.

#Doctor Who #the faceless ones #second doctor #Jamie McCrimmon #Polly Wright #Ben Jackson #Patrick Troughton #frazer hines #Anneke Wills #Michael Craze #animation #TARDIS #BBC #chameleons #chameleon tours #Time and Time Again #sorry this was late #seriously it's been a busy day

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theclosetpoet7 · 5 years

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A Long Way from Nibelheim

A CloTi fic by theClosetPoet7

Rating: M

Summary: She remembers his blushing cheeks on that water tower years ago. She remembers the promise they made under the stars. But the man she sees before her is different. And she's different. They are a long way from where they once were. [Set during the Original Game]

There is something about the way his cerulean eyes stare blankly into the distance.

And the way his personality reminded her of someone she once knew.

She feels like he is a stranger dressed in her first love's body.

But Cloud is Cloud.

And she recruits him anyway.

Just to keep her eyes on him.

And...something else.

Light footsteps fumble across the hall of 7th Heaven. Cloud closes the door to her room, a hand tangled in her long hair as he pulls her lips to his again. There is confidence in the way he touches her that startles Tifa because the person she is currently kissing is far from the timid teen who had called her to the water tower years before.

She wonders if getting into Soldier could've contributed to the experience he exudes when his hand unabashedly goes down to her bottom. The contact catches her off guard and she pulls away, a hand on his shoulder; putting a bit of distance between them.

"Wait, Cloud I..."

"Do you want to stop?"

It was a good question. Did she? Moments before they had been talking about AVALANCHE's mission. She had opened up about her doubts. The blonde swordsman had lent her his ear, nodding in agreement when she revealed that she feels like she's in a pinch.

The choice of her wording actually had significant meaning to it. But, like she suspected, Cloud does not remember their promise.

It stings her heart.

"Tifa."

Her arms are still around his neck, lips bruised and warm from his kisses. There is a heaviness in her heart when she realizes that it is her first kiss but it didn't seem like it was his. A number of faceless women come into her mind. Surely a First-Class Soldier like Cloud Strife would be admired by several of them.

The barmaid shakes her head internally.

She had seen him back at Nibelheim right? When Sephiroth attacked.

His seafoam green eyes are a stark contrast to the kind blue she had seen back at that Mako Reactor.

'You came. Just like you said you would.'

This person. Though lost and completely different from the shy boy she waited for, this man.

is Cloud.

Right?

No, she did not want to stop.

But.

There's something wrong here.

And she can't quite put her finger on it yet. Still so unsure of him, but even more unsure of herself.

So, she pulls away.

"I'm sorry."

Cloud takes a step back, hands going to his sides.

"No, you don't need to apologize, I shouldn't have taken it this far."

Tifa smiles kindly at him.

"Don't get me wrong. I do..."

She trails off but like instinct she doesn't end the sentence and true to her namesake, she locks up those emotions again.

"We're drunk. I don't want to do something we'll both regret." She finishes.

He doesn't touch her for a while after that.

_______________

They regard each other with caution.

Hands almost touching but never doing so.

"So I heard that Jessie has a crush on ya."

Barret's loud teasing reaches her ears. The team is currently huddled in a round table a few feet from the bar. Tifa wipes the smudge off a small glass while she listens on.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His voice, was smooth but a bit groggy, signs of his near inebriation quite evident.

"Well, it's obvious isn't it?"

Wedge takes apart his gun and proceeds to clean the insides, bullets rolling around the table. The picture they painted looks intimidating. A tall big man, with three others, one with a sword that was almost larger than him, the other two assembling guns and setting up explosives whilst drinking their worries away.

"She even made you lunch."

The fact that Jessie is currently downstairs making repairs to their other equipment encourages their gossip even further.

Biggs puts his arm over Cloud's shoulder. The blonde, still a bit tipsy and probably tired from their current mission lets him. He has a stern hand still wrapped around the scotch she had prepared for him.

The other man whispers something in his ear that makes her childhood friend stiffen. Tifa leans on the counter observing them further. But her attention is caught somewhere else. Quietly, she admires the yellow flower in front of her.

It was sweet of Cloud to give it to Marlene.

Her thoughts on the gift are promptly interrupted when the hero coughs out loudly, windpipe blocked by the heat brought about by the alcohol. Barret slaps a hand on his back to calm him with a boisterous laughter that seemed to shake the entire establishment.

"Well she's right there lover-boy."

Tifa quirks an eyebrow. She never noticed that Cloud had said something.

"What are you guys talking about?"

She walks over to them and sits directly across the man of the hour. Cloud turns his head away, a hint of a blush over his handsome face while coolly saying.

"It's nothing."

Wedge winks at her.

"Strife has certain preferences."

Oh. It takes her a while to gather her wits. What were his preferences? Weeks before he had his hand under her skirt but they haven't attempted to do anything more after she pulled away.

Jessie was a pretty girl, long red hair neatly tied into a high ponytail that showed off the rest of her freckled face. A hint of maturity behind her innocent features like she's seen the most terrible things but only came out stronger. She would make a good match for him. Or did Cloud like his women more womanly? With wider hips perhaps? Feminine curves contrasting his warrior virility?

"Care to elaborate?"

She puts an elbow on the table and rests her head upon her gloved hand, sapphire eyes boring deep into the person in front of her. His face is covered a bit by the drink he holds steadily to his forehead.

"Let's just say he likes women who can hold their own in the battlefield."

The three men continue to laugh while the other two allow them. Tifa's eyes focus on her hands. But she can feel it.

The fact that Cloud steals glances at her for the rest of the night.

______________

"You can't die now Cloud! Please, there's so much more I need to tell you."

Her desperate pleas echo on in her head.

She thought she had lost him. But here he was, standing in front of her with the most beautiful woman she has ever seen.

Aerith Gainsborough, she said her name was. And it suited her well. Such an elegant name. She is the epitome of beauty and Tifa begrudgingly pulls her skirt a little lower, and her thigh socks a little higher to hide her unease.

But there is no time to waste, Don Corneo has revealed important intel. There is no time for her to dwell on the fact that Cloud looks a little bit uncertain, far from the confident man he usually is especially when this other woman smiles at him from time to time.

They had a city to save, and Tifa watches with contained worry as Aerith takes Marlene with her.

Away from the danger.

Away from the slums.

_______________

Jessie

Biggs

Wedge

They perish in the aftermath of Shinra's destruction.

Tifa didn't know if she could hate Shinra even more than she already did.

But she does.

She hates them even more now.

Again, they have taken important people away.

From her.

Again.

_______________

They don't really need to know our business.

They don't really need to know what we do.

They don't really need to know where we go.

When it's just me and you.

Cloud's sudden kiss is deep and aggressive when they are finally left alone.

And she allows this contact.

She had almost lost him again.

Maybe it was her fears of him suddenly slipping away.

Or maybe he was just as afraid of losing her.

But their teeth clash, and their hands grip hard.

Their bodies look for any semblance of comfort for everything they have lost.

For almost losing each other.

Cloud pulls her closer to him. Arms immediately going to her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he pushes her against the wall outside the house. He makes her feel his desire and starts an up and down motion that only stirs the coils in the pit of her stomach.

And it is too much.

It is too much.

She wants him.

Fuck.

She wants him.

It is Barret's voice that stops them.

Alarmed shouts reverberating through Aerith's home when he says that she's been taken. Cloud's immediate distance almost makes her want to pull him back.

But she is worried as well.

No. Not Aerith.

Not her.

This wonderful person who has done nothing but be kind, selflessly taking in a stranger's daughter. This wonderful person has been kidnapped.

Please no.

The warmth she dwells in is immediately taken and she feels like she's been doused with cold ice when blood starts running through parts of her body that were previously crushed between hard muscle and concrete.

Then, she pushes "them" to the back of her head again.

Their friend is in trouble.

Tifa tells herself that Cloud's urgency does not hurt her in the least.

Besides, wasn't that a selfish thought?

_______________

Does she make you feel alive?

By now, I think I know you more.

She can't help but fall in love with this girl.

Aerith is so beautiful, inside and out. She is like a big sister who gives her friendly smiles and teases Cloud in a way that is flirty but still so sweet. She pulls her knees closer to her body while she sits across her first love.

He is blushing madly, though a little annoyed.

A date huh?

Aerith, who is supposed to be afraid, laughs childishly on the other side of the wall. But Tifa can still hear the worry in her voice. Of course she would worry. That Hojo person scares her too. There was something off about that guy.

Still though, the lovely flower girl reminds her bodyguard of their arrangement, and since he has held his end of the bargain, Aerith says that she will reward him later on.

It is cute and ever so romantic that it makes Tifa feel completely invisible.

But she isn't.

She knows she isn't.

Not with the way Cloud keeps his eyes on her.

She smiles cheerfully and pumps up her fists.

"Now then, how should we get out of this pinch this time?"

Cloud merely smirks.

_______________

There's blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

They follow it through the building.

Her nostrils take in the iron-like scent.

Memories come flooding in.

She sees her father.

His dying body from years ago.

Then, she remembers her own.

Suddenly, the front of her chest hurts, like it has been slashed again.

No.

She almost wants to run.

Whatever they're about to find.

It's not safe.

She feels nothing when they encounter President Shinra's dead body.

Finally his reign is over. She has finally gotten justice over the death of the people she has lost. The people are finally free of the corporation that was slowly killing the planet.

Her body reacts by instinct. A foot roots itself to the floor, ready to spring forth a heavy kick once necessary. Then, she sees "him". Cloud is alarmed as well. He takes a step back and puts his arm in front of both her and Aerith, quickly shielding them.

No.

Years after not hearing news about this man, Tifa had thought that he was gone. Her hatred surges through and she almost poises to attack him like that time years ago. Because she has become stronger since then and she won't let him hurt her again.

"Don't."

There is a slight panic to his voice. She hasn't seen him be this anxious since his arrival at Midgar. The Cloud in front of her reminds her of that boy.

At that reactor.

"Don't Tifa."

Sephiroth disappears again.

The whole building quakes. And, with her adrenaline rush, she manages to get out with the rest, shaky hands holding on to the steering wheel as they escape.

_______________

"A memory is something that has to be consciously recalled, right? That's why sometimes it can be mistaken and a different thing... But it's different from a memory locked deep within your heart."

Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

What Cloud says is wrong.

He wasn't there when she was giving the tour.

He wasn't with her when she was taking Sephiroth around Nibelheim.

Wrong.

He wasn't there.

"Sephiroth did this didn't he?"

"I hate you! I hate Shinra! I hate SOLDIER! I hate you all!"

Zack.

Zack Fair.

What happened to him?

Gongaga is a mountainous area. A small town in the countryside that reminds her of their hometown. Cloud still seems off after meeting her friend's parents. Tifa runs after Aerith when she deviates from the group.

"Eighty-nine letters."

"Huh?"

"I wrote Zack eighty-nine letters."

The dark brunette kneels down next to the last Cetra. She puts a hand on Aerith's shoulder and squeezes it lightly.

"I met him when he was in Nibelheim."

Her watery green eyes widen and the young flower girl turns to her, hope lingering there but gone at the same time.

"He disappeared one day."

Aerith suddenly stands and wipes some of the dirt off her dress.

"And my wagon is no use for selling flowers anymore." She jokes.

"But I..."

The wind stirs her bangs off her face, her tear-stained cheeks lift up when the young woman smiles widely.

"But you know what? I have a feeling that I'll see him again someday."

Tifa's heart aches because it feels like Aerith is saying goodbye.

_______________

His lips find hers again in Costa del Sol.

Maybe it was her dark blue bikini.

Or maybe it was the tropical feel to the place.

But he wants to touch her.

His hands are warm against her skin.

His tongue is eager in her mouth.

His mind though,

His mind is somewhere else.

And she knows it.

So she stops him.

Cloud's fogged eyes clear.

His hand is still holding her right breast.

While the other is on her abdomen.

He traces her middle up to the space near her heart.

"I've never noticed this scar before."

She puts her arms around her chest.

Cheeks heating from his detached observation.

So it was a dream after all huh?

He doesn't remember.

Or, he can't.

Because he was never there.

Maybe she wasn't either.

She can't help but feel jealous when both adults scamper off. Their date is finally happening. But she isn't really thinking about herself right now. They've been all over the world trying to find their Planet's biggest threat. She has met so many people. So many. Had gotten to know even more of her comrades.

However, the one she wants to understand the most is here and he is fading further and further away. It scares her. But she puts on a brave front. Optimistic eyes keep cheering the others on. Yuffie grabs a handful of Materia from their packs again. Tifa just glances at Vincent tilting her head to where she disappears to. The newest member nods and follows the ninja. Normally, she would berate the young girl lightly but she focuses her attentions on Barrett who seems to be bothered by something ever since they arrived at the Golden Saucer.

She tries to keep her thoughts away from Cloud and Aerith's date.

At least she can make him smile.

"You're still up."

He finds her at the bar later on, nursing a sweet pink drink. Cloud sits next to her and orders a strong one. His usual scotch.

"Did you just come in?"

"Yeah, Aerith is looking for you."

"Hm."

She sips on her drink, a weary look on her person, cautiously studying him. For the first time in a while, Cloud looks relaxed. The past few weeks were difficult. She was beginning to think that he is trying to carry this burden on his own.

He has his own motives, so focused on killing Sephiroth. But she knows that he is being troubled by something else too.

Tifa catches her breath when he suddenly turns to look at her. A hint of a smile on his face, quickly disappearing when he places some gil on the bar and takes her hand in his. His thoughts are easy to read and she follows him, albeit guiltily when he pulls her to the direction of his room.

"Your lips are moving ahead, you're all over me. You shouldn't be. And I was never a threat to her."

He is more gentle this time. So unlike his forceful nature before. The martial arts expert responds just as eagerly to his mouth's pressing against her own. Shy tongue coming out to taste his. She gasps when he takes her into his mouth.

His hands are on her breast again.

His knee lodged in between her legs.

But he is gentle.

Like he is carefully searching for something.

"Tifa."

He pulls her closer, stepping back to sit on his bed while she settles her legs over him, straddling him, an action she has never done before. That is when she feels it.

The fact that he is hard and wanting.

"Tifa."

She kisses him deeply. Her fingers tangle in his blonde chocobo locks pulling lightly to tease him.

"Tifa."

His muscled arms trap her to his person more tightly.

She feels like she is finally giving in.

She feels like she is finally going to fuck Cloud Strife.

And after all they've been through, Tifa doesn't think about stopping this time.

Is it wrong to want him like this?

Hasn't she always wanted him?

She's been with him for months now. And even though he is still not the boy she remembered, he is still Cloud. Surely he is allowed to change. She isn't the same girl either.

Her mind's debate almost stirs her away from realizing that he has loosened his hold on her. It takes her a second to notice that he isn't responding to her kisses anymore.

"Cloud?"

"I'm sorry. I don't think I can do this."

But she can still feel his desire between her legs.

"It feels wrong."

Aerith's face flashes through her head.

He was right.

"You're right. We shouldn't have done this. You just came from a date."

She starts to get off him but Cloud's hands remain on her hips, keeping her in place.

"It's not that. It's just..."

"She's our friend."

"Yeah."

There is a deafening silence then.

"She told me something weird tonight."

"What was it?"

"Aerith said that she wants to get to know me. The real me."

Tifa stiffens at the confession. And she watches as he pieces his words together.

"I didn't understand what she meant. I am me right? I am real?"

The fact that she herself questioned that very inquiry weighs her down. Of course it would hurt for someone to make you doubt yourself. Ever since they've started their pursuit of Sephiroth, Cloud has been fighting an invisible adversary. The same way she is always wrestling with her memories of that incident in Nibelheim. He looks so confused right now. So she wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer.

The swordsman sighs and returns her hold, head leaning on her shoulder as he accepts her comfort.

"Cloud is Cloud."

She whispers.

"Cloud is Cloud."

She peppers kisses across his brow until he falls asleep.

_______________

She feels like Aerith Gainsborough will vanish at any moment.

The very thought tears her apart.

Because she has finally found a companion who understood her well.

She finally has a best friend.

Even if Aerith also held affection for Cloud,

Even if she did make her jealous from time to time,

Tifa still loves her.

A few months of travelling can do that.

Especially when they could potentially lose their lives.

Aerith is lively.

Aerith is thoughtful.

Aerith is her friend.

But why did it feel like she is living on borrowed time with her?

The sight of his sword slicing through her pink dress.

The sight of her widened green eyes.

The sight of her bloody lips when she is rendered motionless.

His laughs that echoed throughout the Forgotten City.

Cloud's cries that mirrored her own.

Her body, choked up in distraught alarm, that prevent her from moving.

Erase it.

She wants to erase it all.

And it takes her a while to discern that she has lost her voice.

Tears are just streaming down her cheeks.

And her heart, her heart feels like it's about to burst into a thousand pieces.

Or maybe it already has.

Because she can't feel it.

Aerith is gone.

She's gone.

Tifa can't hear Sephiroth's laughs because of the ringing in her ears.

She clenches her fists and goes berserk.

_______________

"...Shut up."

"The cycle of nature and your stupid plan don't mean a thing."

"Aerith is gone."

"Aerith will no longer talk, no longer laugh, cry...or get angry... "

"What about us...what are WE supposed to do? What is this pain? My fingers are tingling. My mouth is dry. My eyes are burning!"

They fail to stop him.

_______________

Cloud disappears one day.

The events seem blurry to her.

All she knows is that.

Cloud disappeared.

Like Aerith, Cloud is gone.

But Tifa picks up the slack and becomes the leader of their group.

Until she finds him again.

"Cloud."

She can't take it. Seeing him like this. His eyes so lifeless, so devoid of any emotion. He keeps nodding his head like he's on some sort of boat, slowly sailing off. To a place she can't reach.

He can't stand. He can't return her hold. He can't say anything. He can't even see her.

"Cloud."

She finally lets her tears fall as she buries her head in his lap.

"Cloud, please tell me. What should I do?"

Mideel is a tiny place. A few houses, one clinic. Cloud is the only patient in it. The doctor says that he has Mako poisoning. He may never recover. But Tifa stays by his side, nursing him in whatever way she can. Hope still brimming in her heart though it seems hopeless. She's lost him again. But he will come back right? He will. Like last time.

Weeks go by and he still won't respond. Tifa starts to feel the strain on her own body but doesn't care because she wants him to get better. She knows what the nurses say. Poor girl, such dedication. She doesn't see it as pity because she knows that people are genuinely kind. Like Aerith was. She doesn't pity herself either. Things are going to get better.

She'll do whatever it takes to get him back.

This isn't the end of his story.

This isn't the end of theirs.

Ultimate Weapon attacks that very day.

_______________

" So, we meet again."

_______________

"But now that we're together like this, I don't know what I really wanted to say… I guess nothing's changed at all… Kind of makes you want to laugh…"

They may die tomorrow.

They may never have this moment again.

The Cloud she has above her is a mix of the boy she once knew and the man she has stood by all this time. His blonde strands tickle her cheeks as he leans down to capture her lips in his.

For words aren't the only way to tell someone how you feel.

And she hasn't been good with words either.

He caresses her with the softest touch. Mouth sucking on her pulse. This tryst is different from the other ones they had. This isn't even a tryst. It is their own way of connecting their hearts, their feelings.

Their bodies.

For so long they have been dilly dallying, playing this forward and backwards dance that always stopped before it got any further.

But now she knows.

She was made for him.

She feels like she was made for him. Like some godly being created her to be with him in the end. In whatever way she can.

And just like that, she knows.

She is his.

There are no regrets when Cloud claims her.

No second thoughts when he starts to move his hips.

No doubts when he pants out her name.

No hesitation when he takes her nipple into his mouth and starts sucking.

No lingering hurt when he lowers a hand to her essence, slowly taking her to the edge as he picks up the pace.

Cloud is Cloud.

And she loves him.

He raises himself to look at her. Underneath the Highwind, in grassy plains, on the eve of their final battle, she must look a mess. It is nowhere near comfortable. No soft bed to cushion her as he drives her to the hilt. No walls to hide their indecent fucking. No lights to cast a shadow on his beautiful body.

Only stars.

Stars.

She doesn't care.

Cloud has made her his.

She is his.

All her flaws.

Her scars.

They're his.

She laces their fingers together, breasts bouncing as he keeps his thrusts going.

Finally they meet again.

It is getting to be too much but it's still not enough. She wants more time with him. Wants more.

More.

"Tifa."

'Please... Minerva. Give me more time with him.'

Tears flow down her cheeks. Cloud brushes them off. And Tifa smiles, she smiles up at him while returning his pumps with her own.

All she breathes is Cloud.

All she feels is Cloud.

The night is like fireworks for her, their bodies and souls soaring high up to the sky, merging into one, until she bursts into a torrent of colors that painted the stars with her unlocked heart's emotions and her love for this man. All her love. She bathes in all the things she leaves unsaid as she pulls him closer. Closer until she doesn't know where she is except under him.

"Cloud."

Tifa doesn't quite reach her peak when he releases into her, shoulders heaving, and sweat sliding down his face and onto her shoulder. But she feels amazing and he feels amazing. And he's still inside her.

Cloud leans in again to touch her tongue with his.

She kisses him back, arms pulling him in deeper because he might disappear again. Or maybe this time, she would disappear with him.

She won't have it any other way.

If tomorrow is the end of their lives then she'll have no regrets.

No regrets at all.

Just as long as she stays by his side.

They are a long way from Nibelheim. Far from the people they once were. And if tomorrow really is the end.

Then she'll die with him.

Because.

She was made for him.

Tifa knows she was.

fin

_______________

Author's Note:

Oh my goooosh. My first CloTi Fic. My OTP. Let me know what you guys think. May I request that there be no LTD related bashing please. I love Aerith too.

This was inspired by a lot of things. Firstly by the recent E3 trailer. Tifa and Aerith look amazing! Secondly by these wonderful songs quoted throughout the fic (played throughout while I was typing away):

"They don't really need to know our business. They don't really need to know what we do. They don't really need to know where we go. When it's just me and you." - Bad Love by the Aces

"Your lips are moving ahead, you're all over me. You shouldn't be. And I was never a threat to her." - Shake Her by Fickle Friends

"All your flaws and scars are mine." - Still Falling for You by Ellie Goulding

And of course, quotes throughout the game. References is from the Final Fantasy Wiki page about the events of the game. It's been years since I last played it.

Thank you for reading!

Love & Peace!

#cloti #clotifanfiction #clotifanfic #cloudxtifa #cloud x tifa #clotific

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nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 5 years

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Who do you think is the handsome curly young man that arya finds dead in the house of black and white? I saw you mention him in a tag of an old post, but i didnt know what tags to search to find posts you might have made :0

Ahaha, the tags of this post? Nobody ever got back to me about this little mystery, which is kind of a good thing because my answer would’ve had to be “damn if I know”. And it still is, but in a complicated way. :) But first, the text:

The dead men had their own smell too. One of her duties was to find them in the temple every morning, wherever they had chosen to lie down and close their eyes after drinking from the pool.This morning she found two.One man had died at the feet of the Stranger, a single candle flickering above him. […] Before summoning the serving men to carry him away, she knelt and felt his face, tracing the line of his jaw, brushing her fingers across his cheeks and nose, touching his hair. Curly hair, and thick. A handsome face, unlined. He was young. She wondered what had brought him here to seek the gift of death. Dying bravos oft found their way to the House of Black and White, to hasten their ends, but this man had no wounds that she could find.The second body was that of an old woman. […] The corpses were laid out in the vault. The blind girl went to work in the dark, stripping the dead of boots and clothes and other possessions, emptying their purses and counting out their coins. […] On the handsome man she found four golden dragons out of Westeros. She was running the ball of her thumb across the most worn of them, trying to decide which king it showed, when she heard the door opening softly behind her.

–ADWD, The Blind Girl

OK, so the pool in the House of Black and White contains some kind of quick-acting painless poison, and people often come to the temple to drink it, for peaceful euthanasia. Usually old people, but sometimes deathly wounded bravos also do so… Arya encounters one when she first enters the HoBaW back in AFFC, for example.

In this chapter, Arya is a blind novice in the temple, whose job it is to find these suicides and strip them of their possessions, before the bodies are taken into the secret lower sanctum of the temple. (Where presumably their faces are skinned off and prepared for use by the Faceless Men.) On this morning she finds a dead man, young and handsome, with thick curly hair. She thinks he’s a bravo (one of the young aggressive swordsmen of Braavos who often duel each other), but can’t find the wound that killed him.

But there’s evidence that this man is not a mere bravo. First of all, he wasn’t injured, but seems to have just committed suicide straight up. Secondly, Arya didn’t find him by a statue of one of the death gods that the people of the Free Cities worship, but rather at the feet of the Stranger, the Westerosi god of death. (Though the Faith of the Seven originated in Essos, it is not really worshipped there anymore; there is a “Sept-Beyond-the-Sea” in Braavos, but its only worshipers are visiting sailors.) Thirdly, Arya found Westerosi money in the dead man’s purse. And not just a little bit of money, but four golden dragons, which is a nice chunk of change. And fourthly, the fact that Arya’s blind in this chapter is probably a clue that this man is recognizable somehow, but not to her and so not to us either. So who the hell is this guy?

And… well… we just don’t know. People have speculated all kinds of random shit – thinking that the old woman is Old Nan (no), or Shella Whent (what, why) and the man is her guard, or Olenna Tyrell (???) and the young man is Loras (?????) – nothing that makes any sense, just illogical grasping at straws with no evidence to work with. There’s nothing in the chapters before or after that help with identifying this man, nothing remotely decisive or even acting as the tiniest clue. The timeline doesn’t work for the Westerosi heading to Braavos in ADWD/TWOW previews (Justin Massey, Harys Swyft), nor does it seem to fit any of those who we know went to Lys with Edric Storm. Symond Frey married a Braavosi girl, and his son Bradamyr is a ward of a Braavosi merchant, but Bradamyr is only ten years old. And Bradamyr’s older brother, the singer Alesander, was “away” from the Red Wedding, but not to Braavos as far as we know.

So… it is a mystery. Personally, I think that if GRRM has any intention of coming back to resolve this mystery, it’ll probably be involved in Arya’s eventual return to Westeros. This mysterious man’s face has probably been turned into one of the Faceless Men’s magic masks, and Arya may take it whenever she chooses to leave the House. Furthermore, we know that when Arya puts on one of these faces she gets a brief flashback of that person’s life and death (e.g. the ugly little girl), so if she puts on this man’s face, we may learn more about the mystery of who he is and why he came to Braavos and why he apparently killed himself.

But until then, alas… damn if I know. ;) Hope that helps!

#mrsjadecurtiss #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #arya stark #the faceless men #the house of black and white #asoiaf theories #the blind girl #mysteries of asoiaf #the hobaw mystery man #bradamyr frey #alesander frey #suicide tw

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the-badger-mole · 5 years

Text

Face in the Crowd

He hadn’t expected to be struck by inspiration so soon after his last project. She had no idea she had caught his attention. It wasn't unusual. Most people overlooked him, even the ones who spoke to him. He liked to think he was invisible. He wasn't, of course. Just careful. Especially with women. Women spooked more easily than men, he had learned. It didn't take much for them to put their guard up. So he kept his distance until he was ready.

There was a process to his art. First he found his muse. He had found had served him his coffee at a random diner. She had caught his eye immediately. She had the most beautiful velvety umber skin he had ever seen, and eyes that rivaled the blue of the tropical oceans. How could any artist look past her? He surely couldn't.

The next step was to find out as much as he could about her. This part was easier than normal. She told him her name when she took his order. He had repeated it, tasting it like a new wine. She noted that she hadn't seen him around before, and he told her that he was just passing through on the way to nowhere in particular. When she asked for his name, he made one up. When she asked him about his work, he told her her was an artist. He turned the conversation to her.

She was a graduate student at the University of Republic City. She had an apartment with her brother- an engineer who would be out of the country for the next few months. She didn't realize that she had given him all of that information, of course. It was amazing how much people let slip in a casual conversation. You just have to know how to listen. And he had spent years learning how to listen.

After her shift ended, he followed her home. This part was easy. She hailed a cab, instead of waiting at the lonely bus stop in the dark. Neither she nor the cab driver saw him following. Even if she had turned around, it was too dark to see inside his car. When the cab pulled up outside of a nice townhouse he kept going, pulling into a parking spot a block away. The cab was gone when he doubled back on foot, and she had gone inside one of the houses, but he had gathered enough information on his newest project. Soon, he’d be ready to add her to his collection. He gazed up at the house he thought she had entered. The game had begun.

-------

Detective Zuko Kaji knew something had happened the moment he stepped into the precinct. There was no obvious change. Everyone was where they were supposed to be- working at their desks or chatting by the coffee pot or running back and forth from the records room. Then he noticed how quiet everyone was. The conversations were unusually muted, the way they tend to be whenever there's a particularly juicy piece of gossip Eyes kept drifting towards the chief’s door. Zuko frowned. That door was hardly ever closed. The secretary noticed him and picked up the phone. A moment later she beckoned him over.

“The chief wants to see you,” Biyu told him. Her eyes were wide, and her voice low.

“Can it wait until I’ve gotten in the door?” Biyu shook her head.

“It’s serious,” she told him. “He’s expecting you.” Zuko sighed and made for the closed door.

“He could at least let me grab some coffee first,” he grumbled before he went to see what his uncle wanted.

Iroh Kaji had implemented an open door policy when he became chief of police nearly fifteen years ago. He said he wanted all officers and detectives to feel welcomed to speak with him anytime. Since then, the door was rarely ever shut. When it was, it meant something serious had happened. The look on Iroh’s face when Zuko walked in confirmed that it was something awful.

“You wanted to see me chief?” Iroh nodded towards the door.

“Please leave it shut,” he said. “What I have to say is going to get out eventually, but I wanted to speak to you first.” Zuko closed the door and sat down across from him.

“What’s wrong, Uncle?” he asked. He prepared himself for terrible news. Was his father back? Had his sister found some new exciting form of trouble to get herself into?

“Koh is back,” Iroh told him plainly. Zuko blinked.

“How...how do you know? It’s been fifteen years. Why would he start again now?” Iroh sighed and ran his hands over his face. He suddenly looked every one of his fifty-one years and then some.

“His latest victim was found early this morning,” Iroh said. “We haven’t identified him yet, but the MO is the same. The body was ritualistically disposed by the river. He was naked and no personal belongings were found nearby, but there were no signs of sexual assault. And of course…”

“No face?” Zuko guessed grimly. Iroh grimaced and nodded.

“Surgically removed, just like the others.” A loud bang out on the street made both men jump. Iroh glanced over his shoulder out of the window and saw a beat up tan car stalled in the middle of the street. Smoke poured from beneath the hood. Iroh shook his head sympathetically, but there was nothing he could do about it just then. He turned back to his nephew. Zuko leaned forward on his elbows and tapped his knuckles against his teeth.

“What are our next steps?”

“We’ll need to identify the victim of course,” Iroh said. “I’ll have an officer look through missing recent missing persons. If Koh stays true to his MO, he will have had the poor man captive for at least a week, so we’ll have to begin there and adjust our search as necessary. We must also start a task force, which I’d like for you to head up.” Zuko’s good eye widened.

“Me?” he asked. “I just made detective two months ago. You want me to head up something this big?” Iroh nodded. He looked grave.

“I trust you with this.” Iroh steepled his fingers and rested his forehead against them. “You know better than most on the force what Koh is capable of. The men and women who helped me the first time around are almost all gone. The ones still around are-understandably- not anxious to make this their last case before retirement.”

Zuko sat up straight and met his uncle’s eye. He knew that Iroh knew he was going to accept, still, he needed to ask-

“Have you considered that this might be seen as favoritism?” To Zuko’s surprise, Iroh chuckled.

“No one who has ever seen you work would ever doubt that anything but your talent made me choose you,” he said. “I will, of course, be here to advise should you need me.” Zuko nodded.

“Alright, Chief,” he said. He rose to his feet and stuck his hand out to Iroh. “I accept.”

From there, things moved quickly. Iroh called a department-wide conference and made the announcement that the oldest among them dreaded. The task force was assembled, and despite Zuko’s caution, no one had any objections to his being named head detective on this case. Soon, a board had been started, with all of the information of the latest case at the top of the board and a timeline of the nearly two decade old cold-cases falling in line beneath. The total came to eleven victims altogether.

“This guy is sick,” a rookie beat cop named Lee said with a low whistle.Zuko grunted in agreement.

“Very sick.” Lee leaned in towards Zuko and lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“Is it true that your uncle was the lead on this case the first time around?” Zuko’s mouth twisted into a parody of a smile.

“He co-lead,” he corrected. Zuko had been around eleven at the time of the first murder, and thirteen when Iroh had been added to the first task force. Zuko had in almost grown up with the case, especially once he had moved in with Iroh.

“Where do we even, begin?” Lee asked. He looked over the board full of victims. All but the first had pictures with their faces next to the crime scene photos of their corpses. Lee focused his gaze on these, but Zuko reached up and tapped the picture of the latest victim.

“We find out who he is. Give him his face back.” Lee nodded solemnly. “Then we make sure that this really is Koh.”

“How?” Lee asked. Zuko wanted to roll his eyes, but he reminded himself that Lee was very new, and he needed to be patient. Instead, Zuko gestured towards the board.

“Koh has never left behind a usable piece of evidence,” he explained, “but he leaves his signature at every crime.” Zuko ran his hand lightly across the evidence board, and his finger landed on a copy of a note. “He begins by stalking his victims. His first contact is usually a poem or a letter left for the victim, but we believe he stalks them for some time. Probably a few weeks, to learn their schedules. Then, he kidnaps them.”

“And then he kills them and cuts their faces off?” Lee looked at Zuko in horrified awe.

“No,” Zuko said. “He keeps them for a few days. No one is sure why. There’s never any evidence of sexual assault, and they victims are usually in good condition. Well fed; clean; otherwise unharmed except, well…” Zuko motioned towards the faceless corpses. Lee shuddered.

“How does he kill them then?” Zuko’s brow furrowed at that.

“Most of them were strangled,” he replied. “A few of them died of shock.” Lee gasped.

“You mean, they’re a-alive when he....”

“Yes,” Zuko confirmed with a sharp nod. “We believe he works in the medical field. All of his victims had traces of succinylcholine in their systems. It’s an anesthetic that paralyzes you, but keeps you awake.” Lee swallowed hard, and the blood drained from his face.

“Awake....?” Zuko nodded.

“Awake.” Lee turned back to the board. He swallowed again against the bile rising in his throat.

“That’s horrible.” Zuko grunted his agreement.

“Which is why we need to catch this guy. Fast.” Another officer poked her head in just then.

“Detective Kaji,” she greeted formally with a slight bow. “The Chief wants you in the interview room. It’s...um...urgent.”

“I’m on my way,” Zuko said. He lifted his chin towards Lee and went to his uncle. As he had been told, he was in the interview room. He wasn’t alone.

There was a young woman sitting across from him. Zuko paused for a moment at the door.

“You wanted to see me?” Zuko inclined his head slightly to his uncle, not acknowledging their guest yet. Iroh righted that immediately.

“This is Katara Imiq,” he said. “I’m afraid she has a very serious problem.”

#Zutara #atla #katara #zuko #cop au #zutara fanfiction #chapter one #since this prompt didn't make it to #zutaramonth #i'mma do it anyway

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sebastiansdemonlord-blog · 7 years

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Creepypasta Rp? Bio and Starter below!

Reblog and tag me to start!

Name: Shi (was Shinkō, Faith in Japanese)

Age: Unknown

Birth Date: October 25 - year unknown

Race: Japanese Creepypasta

Gender: Female

Language: Japanese -Spoken and can read some, English -Spoken but doesn’t completely understand English.

Looks: Ghostly blue eyes that look as shattered glass, her hair naturally black but has been stain brown by blood, her hair is also stick straight and often matted, her skin is paler than snow, and her teeth are demonic looking. She doesn’t always wear clothes. She usually is covered from head-to-toe in blood.

Personality: Shy, keeps to herseld, and very skittish when she’s in Slendermansion. Thanatos (Male, in his 30s, and has brown hair and green eyes) is her switch personality who was Britain’s Jack The Ripper, and has never told his real name. He goes by the alias Thanatos for it is the name of the Greek God of Death. Thanatos is very outgoing and loud. He likes talking and being a douche to people who aren’t Shi.

Likes: Blood, Eating Humans, Playing with lost Humans, Slenderman (Master as she calls him), Hiding, Playing Mind Games, Ticci Tobi (Can’t remember the spelling at the moment, don’t judge me!), and Cats

Dislikes: Human men, Rapists, Child Molesters, Abusers, Human food (she can’t eat any of it), loud noises - unless she’s making them -, Whips, Belts, Chains, Guns, Knives, Smile Dog, and dogs in general.

Bio: It all started in a small Japanese community just outside of Shikoku, a little girl by the name of Shinkō was born. She was small and she had health problems - lots of health problems. She spent the first two years back and forth between Tokyo, going to the hospital for asthma. But that wasn’t the hard part. It was when her and her parents would return home that she had the worst problems, her parents frequently abused her. For her condition, and for the money they were forced to spend on her. It wasn’t until her fifth birthday that the abuse got worse. Her father raped her. She was raped by her mother too. They beat her and wouldn’t let her go to school. - They told the officials that “Because of Shinkō’s dire case of asthma that we have decided to home school her.” But that really wasn’t why they kept her home, it was so they wouldn’t get caught abusing her. - She spent the next six years of her life being continually raped and abused. She got pregnant the first time when she was 7, from being raped her body had started puberty early, and when her father found out he beat her within a inch from death, forcing her to miscarry. She cried that night as she lay in a crumpled heap. She wished for death, she craved it. She tried several times to take her own life but when her parents found out they beat her to the brink of death. But she would pull through and heal and get better. When she got pregnant again, she was 10 or 11, her mother begged her father to keep not force her to miscarry again so they could sell the baby. And that’s what they did. She was forced to have the child at home without any doctor care or pain medicine. Not even an hour after the baby was born, the child was sold. Never to be seen by her birth mother. Two years down the road, in the middle of being raped, she snapped and Thanatos -her switch personality- came out and murdered her parents. She ate them as they died, for she was very hungry and weak also she didn’t know when she would be able to eat again, her eyes cracking to look like shattered glass from all of the torture and pain. Her soul had finally broke. Soon she was on the run. She hid around town, and listen to the people of the community. They at first talked about how she was missing, they all suspected that someone had broke in the house and murdered her parents and had taken Shinkō. But as the months went on, she grew hungry. She had been thinking about stealing some food. She saw a little boy who had a hand-held food, and made the mistake of poking her head out. The boy saw her at once and began to scream, “Shi! Shi! Shi!” His mother grabbed him up, and tried to calm him as she looked for the source of his distress. She didn’t see Shinkō before it was too late. Shinkō, frightened by the boy’s shrieking, snapped and killed both mother and child eating them in no time. As a few people started to see what had just happened, mass panic broke out. Shinkō went crazy and killed many as she could. By the time she had finished, the whole community was dead. She looked around as she came to her senses, and grief and guilt struck her. Thanatos who had been watching her this whole time told her to burn the community down - to erase the evidence of what had in this community. She did as he suggested, she lit a fire that would burn for weeks. She ran to a cliff on the far side of the community, finally over taken by grief, guilt, and depression, was deciding to jump to her death. She remembered that as the mass panic broke out that everyone started to scream “Shi!” They had called her Death, and she didn’t blame them. Looking down at herself she was a living representation of death. Thanatos told her to embrace it, but she couldn’t stand it. She had killed hundreds of people over a kid screaming. She took a couple of steps back and ran to the edge jumping up and over the edge. She started to scream until she realized she wasn’t falling. She was caught by a faceless man. He introduced himself as “Slenderman” and his tentacles were the things that caught her. He held her in his tentacles and talked to her. He asked her if she would like to help him kill people and intruders that appeared around his mansion. In return she was allowed to eat, sleep, and be safe. He told her if she accepted that she would never be able to die. She accepted. She didn’t see why it would be bad seeing that’s what she could do best is kill. He asked her her name and she thought for a moment, and in honor of the people of the community, she told him “Shi”. She has been with Slenderman ever since.

Starter: Shi walked around, her hair wet with fresh blood from her latest killing spree. She had a left over arm and took it down to her secret room in the basement. She threw it in the huge water tank of her blood. It dissolved in a matter of seconds. She went over to the wall that had seating and a desk. She looked at the crude drawings she made and hung up there. Shi’s tentacles came out and started to build something out of the wood planks that Shi had stolen over the past few years. She goes over to the vat of human blood that she’s carefully and meticulously maintained, keeping the blood at 98.6°F and keeping it moving and oxygen in it. It was even give something to keep the blood cells from dying, a vegetable human, someone who she had stolen from a hospital who was in a coma. The person was no longer there in the body. But she kept the body alive and it kept the blood alive. After a few hours, the tentacles completed a bed frame - a baby’s bed frame. She took it and dipped it into the vat of her blood, allowing it to get an even coating and letting it dry. Her blood dried weirdly and looked like human blood spread out, a bright bloody red. She let it dry and did a second coat to help with the color. She let it dry and begun working on dipping her bed frame into the vat as well doing it the same way as the baby bed. She then dyed some bed sheets and covers the same way. She hung the sheets up after ringing out the extra blood. She began to carve a couple of rooms out of one of the walls that was facing the Black Mirror Lake as she called the lake. Soon she met the outside. She built the wall up with some stones she had found and put some big windows looking out at the lake. She then built a wall in between the big room and her work space after moving the beds into the alcove. She had taken a door from a house that she had eaten the people who lived there. That’s where she got most of the material. She was smart for someone who hadn’t had much schooling, and could barely write let alone speak. She attached the door and made sure it would shut. She checked on the sheets, they were almost dry. Once the sheets were dry she made the beds. She had mattresses that she had gotten from another house she had raided after she ate the family that had lived there. She had pillows from that house too. She stole the sheets from an insane asylum. She went up the stairs once satisfied with what she had done and locked the door to her secret room in the basement and pulled the thing over it that hid the door. She actually took a shower, stealing some of Jeff's clothes, and got dressed. She ran off to find a newborn baby to steal.

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lakesidered · 7 years

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Game of Thrones Syrio Forel Theory

I’m a huge Game of Thrones enthusiast. Huge as to both the tv series and the books. I’ve really thrown myself into them, and now I’m wading in, with this being my first dip of the big toe, to put out there some of my thoughts, theories, and observations.

Let’s start with what I think is an easy one. Syrio Forel is alive and well. I think this is a popular theory. And I think equally popular is the idea that this is nothing more than fanbase wishful thinking. I’ll make my best case.

Starting with the show, we not only do not see Syrio die – I know, I know – impending immediate death seemed inevitable. But since that time, we have learned something we didn’t know that day. That Ser Meryn Trant was one unimpressive knight. Not only did Bronn make fun of him (Ser Who’s it?), but we had a pointed moment in Season 4 where Sandor Clegane tore into the idea that the best swordsman of Braavos couldn’t outfight Ser Trant. The placement of that reminder regarding the Syrio/Meryn Trant face off was key – right in the middle of the tv series. It was as if the show was saying, “Hey, don’t forget this!”

Staying on the point that we never saw Syrio die, and the show loves its gore. Granted, we didn’t see the septa get killed either, but her head on the spike was supposed to be a surprise. Syrio was facing seemingly inevitable death. And yet, nothing. Pfft.

And the final hint that GRRM and D&D flat out give us, “What do we say to death? Not today." Yes, that can get dismissed as something that applied only to Arya that day. But, like I said, it was GRRM and D&D grinning at us. And I have a feeling Jaqen uttering those words again to Arya is going to be what makes her finally make that connection.

Now, the next key question – what happened to Syrio? He’s Jaqen H'ghar, of course, and he left King’s Landing in Yoren’s wagon. The city was on lockdown and few people could leave. Jaqen needed a way out, and here was his opportunity. He was in the black cells below King’s Landing, or at least in the red keep and hopped in to the wagon. In the show, when we first see the paddy wagon, the man who would turn out to be Jaqen is shrouded and we cannot see his face:

Why obscure who he is? Especially when we see later on that it is Jaqen. The show was so intentionally mysterious about it that I don’t think it was just a matter of the actor not yet being cast.

Next question. How can a secret like that be kept? If Meryn Trant was bested by Syrio, meaning that he got away, Trant would of course keep his mouth shut, because he wouldn’t want Cersei coming after him. And speaking of keeping one’s mouth shut, please note the key plot point of Arya taping Trant’s mouth shut before she confronts and kills him. The writers made a deliberate choice in silencing him before he could try to talk his way to a reprieve (yeah, good luck with that one, fella, but still) by rebutting her conclusion that he had killed Syrio. Notice that Walder Frey, who had nothing to offer, wasn’t likewise gagged. Both could have presumably shouted for help, thought admittedly Trant was in tighter quarters. That fact alone could explain why Arya made that choice, but given that the whorehouse had to have been used to screams coming from Trant’s room, even if it usually was a young girl’s screams, perhaps that was an unnecessarily step. But what can be said with certainty is that it had the effect (intentional, as I argue, or not) of prohibiting Trant from denying her claims.

So, the other big questions – why is Syrio/Jaqen in King’s Landing, and why does he leave before the job is done? The answer to the second part of the question is that he didn’t. He didn’t leave before the job is done. The answer to the first part clicked with me when I saw Melisandre and Thoros of Myr talking. Melisandre tells Thoros that he was sent to Kings Landing to convert King Robert to the Lord of Light. That was an a-ha moment for me. Who else could have sent someone after King Robert? The Bank of Bravos, fed up with not being paid. I’ve been keeping track of potentially foreshadowing comments, and every few episodes there is someone reminding us that the Iron Bank gets what it wants. It also answered a sticking point for me – why would a faceless assassin be in King’s Landing?

My theory is that the Iron Bank sent Jaqen, who took on the form of Syrio. Jaqen is an accomplished, high level faceless man. The cost of his services are likely to be great, certainly much greater than the young actress who wanted Lady Crane killed could have afforded. Who could afford the personal services of Jaqen and for what purpose? What’s the richest entity of all in the world? The Iron Bank. With whom might they have a beef in King’s Landing in Season 1? The irresponsible and delinquent King Robert. With King Robert out of the way, and a young Joffrey on the throne, it must have seemed almost inevitable that responsible (and presumably rich) Tywin Lannister would be called back as hand. A pretty good motive for getting rid of Robert, I would argue. And a fairly safe best, or "investment,” by the bank. Jaqen assumed the form of Syrio and got himself placed in the castle, close by and surely inching closer, to King Robert. He was looking for his opportunity to make a move when Ned Stark came by him and retained his services for his daughter. Could GRRM have resisted the idea of having honorable Ned, motivated by the goodness of his heart, be the one responsible for setting his daughter on the path to such darkness?

It wasn’t very long after Arya began her dancing lessons that King Robert went out on that fateful hunting trip. And, well, Cersei, Lancel, and the boar did what Syrio hadn’t had an opening to do yet. So his work was done. He needed a way out of town at that point, and a wagon to the wall was it.

Add to this, the book provides us a little more evidence as, in Clash of Kings, Arya notices that Jaqen reminds her of Syrio. Again, this is before we are introduced to the faceless men and could have made that connection at that point in time. Now we can. Or at least I did.

Time will tell.

#game of thrones #syrio forel #jaqen h'ghar #arya stark

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vertigokrp-blog1 · 7 years

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SUBMITTED FOR YOUR APPROVAL:

The case of one Nam Jinhwan, youth lost in the depths of countryside quaintness and simple delights. A 26-year-old spending days in the small suburbs of Muhan as a cashier at the local convenience store, an upstanding citizen like many others in town. An unremarkable little story that takes odd turns when you take a second look. Because, in Muhan, nothing as it seems. In Muhan, you must trust no one.

Nam Jinhwan is one with the vertigo.

CONTENT WARNING.

None.

THE STORY.

the theory is stated somewhere within the notebook: all nightmares bloom sweet as daydreams. it’s black ink, certainly, because jinhwan wrote all the nightmares in it, and good dreams in blue. forgettable things are no use at all, so whatever slept between the spectrums never touched paper – his therapist did not appreciate the practice, of course, she insisted that he should record all his dreams, but the little plain things were buried between the sheets before jinhwan could care to dwell on them. these moving boxes he did not pack, evidently, because he would not have tucked the notebook in any of them; his otherwise vast sentimentalism doesn’t extend to this particular object. he only flickered through it late at night, as his mind refused to drown in haze. ( blue; july 25th, 2016. ) jinhwan is seven, and he cannot quite touch his toes yet. he thinks his pants are silly, but the men he saw dance onstage a couple weeks prior also wore something similar, so his grandmother instructed him not to tell jokes about it as they were walking up to the school. there’s only two other boys in the class, and the rest of the studio is filled with pink and white twirling little things that laugh a bit too loud for jinhwan’s taste, but he says nothing when the teacher has to tell them two, three, four times to settle down and stretch. they can’t quite touch their toes either. ( blue; july 28th, 2016. ) there’s only darkness past a couple front rows, and though jinhwan is already eleven – and his mom says he’s a young man now! –, he cannot fathom what sort of judgemental, clawed monsters lie behind the dark veil, wearing ‘nice grown up’ masks to deceive him into thinking they’re kind. well, sure, monsters are not real, and there has not been an incident under the bed or inside the closet since he was eight, but it is his first recital with the older kids, and he thinks the expectations are much higher on him than they usually are. he trips in the middle of the recital, and doesn’t move in sync with the older boys a couple times, but darkness swirls into smoke once people applaud, and he bows proudly. ( black; august 9th, 2016. ) twenty four, a hundred and fifty km/h, rain. he’s not driving; a faceless shadow is. sinking into the seat, he watches the wall in the middle of the road run up higher than clouds; it never comes, then it’s there, and the seat belt helps knocking the air out of him. ( blue; august 15th, 2016. ) his girlfriend is the sugarplum fairy – she is light and pretty, but the sweetness of her ends with that comma. he did not quite mind, see, since he liked the criticism she provided even when not called upon, for she found herself to be the best dancer in their academy. in jinhwan’s opinion, she was just confident with somewhat skilled feet ( which he never said ), but he thought she made up for it with a very skilled mouth ( which he sometimes said, though words may differ ). he is nineteen when he tells the fairy her coupés jetés are as sloppy as her bad handjobs, and she breaks up with him through a double text. ( he remembers laughing at it, and as he woke up in august as well. ) ( black; august 22nd, 2016. ) twenty four, a hundred and thirty five km/h, dark, hills. he’s driving, but he cannot see except from sparse lights. the tires shift, sway, slide. he barely watches the road, and soon his nose is coming through the glass. ( black; september 1st, 2016. ) homeroom at fifteen is a stingy hand against the back of his head, a foot stuck by another kid so he could trip as he moved between rows, and laughing as other boys in his grade stuck their hands up and made mocking versions recitals in the middle of the courtyard. at first, his eyes roll, and he sighs moving along with his days. the problem came once or twice when his mouth got too smart – jinhwan couldn’t quite help a wave of curses on a particularly bad day being followed on the way to the studio. heaven that once was his only was now shoving, punching and a kick or two when he hit the ground, and crying alone in the bathroom as he washed blood off his face. ( blue; september 4th, 2016 ) twenty four, drunk and laughing, holding a friend’s hand who in good humor sings the melody of jinhwan’s first solo. it never ends: the laughter, the drinking, the singing; in his dreams, it never ends. ( black; september 5th, 2016. ) twenty four, drunk, a hundred and forty km/h, night. he’s not driving; he cannot move to see who is. down the road of his home, the houses come and go endlessly until he begs for a crash. it comes only later, on another car coming straight at his. his forehead hits the dashboard. ( black; september 6th, 2016. ) twenty four, white lights. tubes and wires, labored breathing. a broken leg, a slashed nerve, a limp. no memory of a life sentence. pain, pain, pain, pain…

THE TWIST.

jinhwan wouldn’t call it addiction – he’s in pain, and therefore, he needs his medication. of course, he understands how other people might become addicted to an opioid, but he thinks himself very disciplined and contained; all he uses his vicodin for is to soothe his chronic pain, which won’t let him focus if not controlled. and it works very well; whether he’s in pain or not, frankly. see, vicodin calms one down in a slightly euphoric manner – so it works for the pain, the distress when he wakes up in the middle of the night, the afternoons where he walks a bit too much… he takes them more often than he’d like to admit, and the little bottles often run out a bit faster than they should. the result? having to rush to the pharmacy at odd hours, feeling bothered and uncomfortable through the night if he decides against going out, perhaps waking up with a tamper and avoiding people, and pain, lots of it. so he avoids running out of his pills, naturally, but if the pain is contained, then he can try to be himself. he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong, and nobody says otherwise – well, it’s not as if he has many people caring closely for him anyway, but he can care for himself.

#vo: profile

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argotmagazine-blog · 5 years

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Shimmering in Sequins: What It's Like To Be A Belly Dancer

As a little girl, my family frequented Pharaoh’s, a dumpy Egyptian restaurant located in a strip mall. Despite its outward appearance, Pharaoh’s had the best falafels this side of the Nile, and brought in belly dancers to perform every weekend. It was my father’s way of exposing my sister, Nadia, and I to our Egyptian roots, which was difficult to come by in Orange County, CA.

I speak roughly three words of Arabic, so I never understood what my baba was saying to the owner. What I did understand was the belly dancer. I wanted to be her. She wore a glittering scarlet costume adorned with sequins, and every inch of her shimmered. Her stomach was bare and her skin was golden. Her raven colored hair flowed down her back, and golden bangles swung from her wrists. In my eyes, she was a princess.

She would teach Nadia and I basic ways to shake our hips, and put the gold bangles on our wrists. She once folded a dollar bill with her stomach and gave it to Nadia. The belly dancer was always met with cheers, claps, and smiles--everyone loved her. I swore that one day, I would be rewarded with cheers, claps, and smiles, and wear a costume where every inch of me shined.

A few years ago, I traveled with my baba to visit Egypt, our original homeland. Our cousins set up a cruise along the Nile River for us, where our tour guide Ahmed educated us on faceless Gods, ancient burial methods, and hieroglyphics. None of which baba remembered and would have to be repeated to him every day. On our final day on the cruise, Ahmed informed us that we would be receiving a real treat: belly dancers.

This sent the other tourists into a tizzy. I presumed--based on their excited chatter--that most had never seen a belly dancer before. I wasn’t so much excited but curious, since I had fulfilled my dream and become a belly dancer. I wondered how a dancer in the homeland would differ from one in America.

Baba, Ahmed, and I took our seats around a cramped table while we waited for the show to begin..

“Have you seen belly dancers before, Yasmina?” Ahmed asked, motioning for a waiter to bring us some tea. My father grinned at the tourists, who were currently trying to belly dance.

“Yes, well I actually am one. I’m trained in Egyptian cabaret,” I replied.

“Oh?” Ahmed raised his eyebrows. “Does your baba know about this?”

“He does, and he’s not happy about it,” I replied, graciously accepting a cup of tea. I noticed out of the corner of my eye one of the tourists successfully managed a shimmy.

“Oh, well you know how Egyptian men are.” Ahmed squeezed a bit of lemon into his tea. “They love to watch belly dancers, but Allah forbid their own wives or daughters are one.”

“I find that ironic, considering Egyptians invented belly dancing.”

Ahmed nodded. “Well, Egypt is still a rather conservative country.”

From what I understand, belly dancing, aka raqs sharqi, originated in Egypt thousands of years ago. The term “belly dance” actually originates from French, danse du ventre, which means “dance of the stomach”. Although belly dancing is often associated with early pagan rituals for fertility, but there is no concrete evidence for this. In fact, it’s rather difficult to trace the history of belly dancing. However, belly dancing does help strengthen the muscles needed for childbirth.

The dance was not designed to arouse or entice men — women would perform the dance for other women, never in front of men. Many of the movements in belly dance appear to come from India (such as the sliding of the head) and traditional African dance.

As time went on, men began to belly dance as well (especially in Egypt). Their dance form was a bit different from the women’s, and frequently included canes and swords. During the 1800s, a group called ghawazi would perform outside of coffee shops and in streets. As more foreigners came to visit Egypt, the dance style itself changed. Since more Europeans traveled to Egypt, ballet and ballroom dance was incorporated. By the 1920s, numerous dance clubs hosted belly dancers, whose costumes had changed to match the motif--dancers began to wear glittery costumes that was far less traditional.

In 1893, belly dancing made its way to America. A dancer nicknamed “Little Egypt” made her debut at the Chicago World’s Fair, where her movements were interpreted to be rather vulgar. Thus belly dancing began to get confused with burlesque. However, during the 1970s and 80s, American women began to embrace belly dance as a more feminist movement. Despite this, the dance still frequently has sensual undertones associated with it, especially in America. Americans tend to be rather awkward around belly dancers. I have had quite a few men shy away when I danced close to them. They buried their heads into their phones, much like a gopher burrowing into a hole. This reaction is preferable to leers and jeers, which is never appropriate at a belly dancing show.

The first dancer took the stage. His skirts were made up of the Egyptian flag. I became dizzy as he spun and spun, ripping off each skirt to reveal another flag. The crowd roared with every spun.

“He’s a guy belly dancing!” Baba exclaimed, clapping along with the crowd.

“Apt observation,” I muttered. Ahmed hid a smirk.

“I’ve never seen a man belly dance,” Baba continued, still amazed.

“There are male belly dancers, I’ve danced with a few.”

“In America you have male belly dancers?” Ahmed is now surprised.

“Yes, well we have far more women. But I’ve met a few men who dance. There was a boy in my first dance class.”

“When did you first start dancing?”

“In college. I just really liked it.”

“Of course you were good at it,” Ahmed grins, “You’re Egyptian. It’s in your roots.” I can’t help but blush at this comment.

While I had always dreamed of being a belly dancer, it wasn’t something I had actively sought. It was difficult to find classes for girls, and my parents were adamantly against the idea. Baba wanted me to continue swimming, just I always had, and my mother did not have the money to pay for them.

When I got to college my academic advisor proclaimed that I needed an elective. He whipped through the course booklet, his eyes darting from course to course. He stamped his finger on one and let out a triumphant yell.

“Belly dancing! I’m going to sign you up for belly dancing!”

“Ah…” I didn’t want to say no. He was in control of my academic future, and I still wasn’t sure if he was capable of murder. “Okay.”

“You’re Egyptian! You’ll be great at it! Plus you need another outlet besides writing, writing can be quite draining.” He sprung to his feet and began to move his hips like a wounded hippo. “Look at how fun it is! You’ll love it!”

To my surprise, he was right. I was a natural at belly dancing. I had never taken a dance class before, yet belly dance felt as natural to me as walking. I quickly became one of the star performers and my teacher took me under her wing, grooming me into the dancer she wanted. From that moment on I was hooked, I was on my way to becoming the shining dancer I had always wanted to be.

The male belly dancer finished one last spin. The audience, now on its feet, was ready for the next dancer. A squatter Asian woman rounded the corner. Her pink costume twinkled under the lights. Her stomach was bare, revealing luminescent skin. Like any dancer, her face was caked in makeup. I was a bit disappointed by her costume. I knew that she wasn’t properly trained in Egypt. If she was, she would be wearing netting and a far more conservative costume.

“She’s a bit too fat to dance,” Baba blurted out. Ahmed buried his face in his hands. “Aren’t dancers usually skinny?”

“Baba!”

“What? It’s true. She’s chubby.”

“Well, belly dancers come in all shapes and sizes. There isn’t a particular body type for it, that’s what makes it such an inclusive dance.”

“Huh. Well I think she’s too fat for that costume.”

“Just stop talking please.”

The crowd wasn’t as enthused with this dancer as they were with the first. I couldn’t blame them, her moves weren’t precise. She dropped her hips on the wrong beat, her feet were not pointed, her shimmies were not exaggerated. She had been trained, but not properly. I was surprised to realize that I was a better dancer than the one in Egypt.

“She’s off,” I muttered to Ahmed. “She’s not hitting the moves correctly.”

“You should get up there and show her how it’s done,” Ahmed teased. Baba was now looking at his phone.

“No, I’ve never danced in front of Baba. He might kill me.”

Ahmed laughed at this. I wasn’t joking. Baba was not keen on my choice of dance. Once he realized he couldn’t deter me from dance, he tried to sway me towards ballet. I have done a little ballet, but I find it to be far more difficult. This may have to do with the feet placement (in ballet your feet point out, whereas in belly dancing they point in) or due to the fact that a crowd at a ballet is simply not as spirited. I have also noted that not all body types are accepted in ballet, which is rather strange for me.

Our belly dancer was now pulling random tourists up to the stage, most of which were more than happy to oblige. Baba, Ahmed, and I snickered as they attempted to sway their hips as smoothly as she was, only to look like the hippos from Fantasia. This did not seem to bother them, as they laughed and tumbled into one another.

“Are you going to dance, Baba?” I teased. I’ve never seen Baba dance. Even at weddings, he shuffles in the background, staying close to the cake.

“No,” He grinned. “I prefer watching this. But I do know how to dance. I will dance with you at your wedding, you will see.”

Ahmed and I exchange a brief smirk. “How do Americans handle belly dancers?” Ahmed asked, as Baba resumed playing with his phone. “Do they like them?”

I didn’t want to reveal that my best audience in America was actually a group of pugs. For a while, I danced with a charity group called “Raqs for Paws,” where we danced to raise money for animal shelters. We were asked to perform at an event called “Pugtoberfest,” where every pug owner in the Orange County area dressed their pugs up and brought them out to socialize (the pugs even had a costume contest; Batpug won). As I twirled on stage, a rogue pug broke free from his owner and circled me. They barked their approval and tried to lick my toes. The pug eventually ran back to his owner, and I greeted my admirer when I finished dancing. They gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Have you ever danced anywhere other than America?” Ahmed continues. The dance floor is getting crowded now. The tourists have stopped caring whether or not they look like hippos and are busting out their best moves, which seems to consist of shuffling side to side and dabbing.

“Yes, Australia. They are the opposite of Americans. They love belly dancers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crowd love belly dancing so much!”

During my stay in Australia, I joined a theater troupe. The one skill I had that no one else did was the ability to make a figure eight with my chest, a skill that wowed my troupe. They began to call me “Hollywood” and would frequently comment on how hot I was. I was amused by this, as no American had ever found my dancing to be this intriguing. When I finally danced at our theater showcase, the crowd was on their feet. They cheered, whistled, and clapped--not a single person shied away. The Aussies were living for my dance, and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. I smiled and swayed, hoping no one tried to swoop me up and carry me out. At the end of my number, they gave me a standing ovation. Flattered, but unsure of what to do with such attention, I ran backstage and hid.

“Oi!” One of our stage hands approached me. I was not hidden properly. “My mate thinks you’re hot. Wants ya numbah.”

“Oh! Well, I have a boyfriend.” This wasn’t a lie. I also wasn’t used to men being this direct.

“Thass alright, I’ll tell him to piss off then.” I peeped from the side door as the stage hand approached his friend, who was watching a number from Wicked.

“She’s got a boyfriend, so piss off then!” The stage hand smacked his friend’s head.

The dancing was beginning to wind down. The tourists had grown tired. They shuffled back to their seats, ready for some tea and baklava.

I sat back, remembering one last time I had danced. A group of little girls, dressed in pink tutus and crowns, oooh’ed at my own costume, a glittering scarlet costume adorned with sequins. Gold bracelets dangled from my wrists.

“Oooo look at her!” A chubby finger pointed at me. “She is beautiful!”

“She looks like a princess,” Another swayed from side to side.

“Are you a princess?”

I bend down to their level. The girls grab my skirt and run it through their fingers. I take off one of my bangles and slide it one of their wrists.

“No, I’m not a princess. I’m a belly dancer. If you keep dancing, you might get to become a belly dancer too.”

S.M. Mikesell is a writer living in Los Angeles. She has written for Huffington Post, HelloGiggles, and been a featured writer for Plume. She loves to travel and eat. Most of her travels are based on where she can eat delicious food.

#dance #dancing #culture #belly #ethnicity #performance #S.M. Mikesell

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nightgirlfriend15 · 6 years

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Cute Good Night Messages for Your Girlfriend

Much has been said about the negative impact of phones on relationships. They are often blamed for stealing live communication and distracting partners. However, they transform into essential tools when it comes to long-distance relationships. In this case, partners, who have to be away from each other, can only be grateful to the technology for the opportunity to keep their relationship alive. Modern smartphones have a lot of features and can be used as intermediates of different ways of communication. Making calls is still their main function but not as popular as texting. People send SMS messages, use various messaging apps, and text via social networks.

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Many relationships start via text. A single message can become the first line of a new love story. As the relationship evolves, partners create the sense of presence through … texting! It’s hard to imagine a romantic relationship without sweet good morning and good night messages that lovebirds send each other. They want to be together 24/7 but it’s simply impossible due to their busy schedules, so texting helps them be together in the parallel virtual universe.

romantic good night messages

Texting vs. Calling Millennials are often blamed for killing live communication and promoting faceless messaging. They are just using the perks of technology. Well, the way people communicate today is a disputable topic, and the lack of face to face conversations is a downside. But is texting wrong? Isn’t it an advanced version of letters? In terms of relationships between men and women, contemporary lovers can write sweet words and declarations of love whenever they feel the inner urge. And they don’t have to wait for days or weeks for the reply letter

Love Status: VISIT MORE ❤ Love Attitude Status For Girl & Boy Love Shayari Best Whatsapp Status

According to the recent studies, messages are even more effective than voice calls. When you type a romantic message, you’re more emotionally excited and you’re more careful with words. You have time to think the text over, type, edit, and add more text and emoji. You try that hard because you want to make up for your physical absence and you want to make your message sound as realistic as possible, even make it convey the tone of your voice. The reason for such meticulousness can be also the thought that your message will be read and, what is more importantly, re-read by your significant other, so you want to eliminate all possible wrong implications. It proves that text communication is even more arousing than talking.

Good Morning Messages Collection: VISIT MORE ❤ ➥ * 70+ Good Morning Love Messages For Wife*: Morning Wishes And Quotes For Wife ➥ Sexy *Good Morning Messages* For Girlfriend ➥ Good Morning Messages For Friends Does a good night message have only one purpose: to wish your beloved a good night? Actually, it has dozens of implications. Wishing her sweet dreams after the first date shows her your romantic interest in her and your desire to continue this relationship. As you date as a boyfriend and a girlfriend, it means that you wish to fall asleep near her but since you don’t live under the same roof yet, your good night text message conveys that you go to bed thinking about her.

It is the fact that the things we read 30 minutes before we go to bed and during the first hour after awakening are better recorded in our memory. Also, it’s important to go to bed in a good mood. a good night messageWhat could be a better mood booster than a cute good night message from the right person? Your girlfriend may feel stressed and tired after a long working day, but your message can relieve her stress, cause a smile on her face, and tune into the right sleeping wave that will bring her sweet dreams.

In terms of dating, romantic good night messages are a part of flirting. Depending on the level of intimacy already established between the partners, the content and the implications of text messages can vary from innocent to dirty. VISIT MORE ❤ ➽ Girlfriend Propose, Impress Collection: ➥ Rohit Sharma accountant blogger ➥ Girlfriend Impress - Love Images Wallpaper ➥ #50 *Girlfriend Propose Messages* Heart Touching

Romantic Good Night Messages for a New Girlfriend When you are at the outset of a new relationship, it’s crucial to send the right clues to your love interest so that she will understand your intentions. Usually, the first message is sent after a first date or on the next day. You should know that girls look forward to this message, so don’t fail to write and send one. Usually, people wish a good night only to their dear people. So, if you consider that girl special and you see the future of your relationship, you should know the rules of good night messages for her.

The main rule is moderateness. You should also have a sense of appropriateness. Bombarding her with messages is a bad strategy since you infringe on her private space and it can freak her out. Take into account timing. If you know that she goes to bed early, don’t bother her with your message at 1 a.m. And another important tip: keep it simple and unobtrusive. What to write? It’s a good question. First, you should define the goal of your message – what you want it to convey. After that, get to typing. Here are some examples.

1. Cheering her up. If you already know each other well enough, you can recall some situations you’ve gone through together. If your girlfriend is sad because of a bad day, cheer her up by remind her about her successes – big or small – to distract her from negative thoughts. Go like this, “Good night Miss Skater. I’m proud of you, I remember your first experience at the skating rink but I still can’t believe. You were just the best. Kiss you.”

VISIT MORE ❤ Good Night Images Collection: ➥ Good Night Images - Night HD Wallpaper ➥ Good Night Images For Girlfriend ➥ Good Night Images Whatsapp & Facebook

2. Letting her know she is on your mind. It’s so heart-warming to know that the person you are into thinks about you all the time. Give your girlfriend this pleasure and write something like, “You must be sleeping now, but I just heard a beautiful song that made me think about you. You’re always on my mind.”

3. Making her miss you and arousing her curiosity. A good ending of the day is reminding her you’re looking forward to your next date. “Sleep tight darling! I’m counting the hours until I see you.” If you’re only planning a date, then here is an example: “Have a good night, sweetheart. Brainstorming ideas for our next weekend. There is one but it’s a surprise. Maybe you’ll see it in your dream. Tell me tomorrow.”

4. Complimenting. What to write her at the end of the day? A compliment is always to the point. Even if you’ve said many pleasant things during the day, a final written one will be another evidence of your admiration. “Good night honey. BTW you looked gorgeous in that dress tonight. I close my eyes and see you.”

5. Showing you do care about her health and mood. Women appreciate care and attention. By expressing your concern, you demonstrate you’re not indifferent to her. “Have a good rest this night. I want to see you fit as a fiddle. If you need something, I’m a phone call away.”

6. Playing the “if I was beside you” game and teasing her. “Are you cold? If I was there, my warmth would do for two of us. Feel my virtual hug. Sweet dreams.”

VISIT MORE ❤ New Year Messages: ➥ Happy New Year Wishes 2019: Best New Year Messages ➥ Love Relation Flirty romantic messages are typical of the initial stage of relationships. However, partners shouldn’t forget about their power after entering into long-term relationships. Texting is a great way to stay in touch during the day. And it’s totally indispensable if partners are in a long-distance relationship or temporarily live away from each other. In order to stay emotionally connected, they are advised to text occasionally during the day and write morning and evening messages. Often, temporary separation can be beneficial to the relationship. Partners miss each other, and it makes their reunion really emotional and passionate. Anticipation definitely turns them on. Here are some ideas for a seductive good night message to a girlfriend.

“We are in different beds. One of us is in the wrong place” “Wish you were here next to me. Naked” “You’re on my mind. And my mind is getting dirty”sweet good night messages “Good night sweety. I will come in your dream to make you feel sexy” “My bed sheets still smell like you, but I’m afraid the scent will fade soon. Want you here. Night” “I know you’ve been a good girl today. Now I let you think of me dirty and relax” “My sheets are so smooth. We’d mess them up together for sure” VISIT MORE ❤ I Love You Messages Collection: ➥ I Love You Messages For Queen Wife: Love Wife Messages ➥ I Love You Messages For Dad: Love Quotes & Wishes For Father ➥ I Love You Messages For Son: Wishes & Quotes ➥ I Love You (U) Messages For Mother: Cute Love Messages For Mom ➥ I Love U Messages For Girlfriend If you want to create a good night message for a girlfriend, you can either activate your imagination and come up with a great text or use the following templates as the basis for your messages. Make your message more personal by mentioning your girlfriend’s name. Even if you found some text on the Internet, adding your lover’s name to it will make it sound more convincing. Sweety, sweetheart, darling, cutie, babe – these words are cute, but her name will touch her even more.

There is no moonlight tonight and the stars don’t shine – just like me without you. Hope to see you in my dream. I feel I haven’t done something important today. Ah, wishing you a good night. Sweet dreams, darling! Now, mission is completed. Suddenly felt your touch on my skin. It was just a déjà vu. Can’t wait to embrace you tomorrow. Good night. Good night my angel. Promise me to return from the stars with the sunrise. If someone in your dream will hug you, know it’s me. I dream about it every night. Sweet dreams. Sleep soundly in my love. It will guard you against nightmares. Love you endlessly. Night. Every night is a gift to refresh and rest. Don’t waste it. Good night. I’d like to be your pillow and be in your arms. Kiss you. Sweet dreams. Thank you for one more day with you. Hope to say the same tomorrow. Already miss you. Sleep tightly. Send you millions of kisses and hugs. Hope they will warm you in your bed. Sleep well. Sweet dreams. You are the only one whom I want to wish sweet dreams every night. Sweet dreams, my angel. Can’t sleep without you near me. My heart can calm down only in your arms. See me in your dream because I will. Nite.

VISIT MORE ❤ Diwali Messages: ➥ Happy Diwali Wishes For Girlfriend - Diwali Wishes For Sexy Girlfriend ➥ 50+ *Diwali Wishes 2018* - Diwali Messages ➥ Happy Diwali Images | Diwali Greetings Images Get inspired by our cute good night messages text her to sleep.

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