Seifer Attempts To Woo His Trenchcoat, parts 1-9
Seifer Attempts To Woo His Trenchcoat
By mrsteninch and first_seventhe
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Seifer, Quistis, Coat
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: absolute crack
From here.
Part 1:
Trenchcoat, trenchcoat
Don't ever leave on a boat
I bought you will three gil
And never left you on a windowsill
I say this in truth
I'd prefer not to need a kissing booth
to gain your attention
Oh, please give me some love and affection
Part 2: haiku
Once upon a time
I had a romantic dream
It involved you, coat -
and the nasty things
I want to do to you. I
can't deny our love.
Rinoa? She means
nothing to me, love. You are
everything I need.
Part 3: Purple prose.... and ANGST!
"Coat!" Seifer bellowed, his lilypad-tinted orbs welling up with burning liquid dewdrops of his heart. "COOOOOAAAAT!"
A ghastly wind blew, drawing a shudder up his bone-like spine, and it seemed that the coat waved from its position on the angry lapis waves. Goodbye, it said, its buttons glinting with silver, worn shiny from the passion of his thousand tears. Goodbye.
"Goodbye, my friend," Seifer said, his heart welling up to twice its purported size with the wretched agony of his black, death-like sorrow.
Part 4: A Conversation Between Trepies
"Why isn't Instructor Trepe here?"
"She's in a detention today."
"Dammit all, who went and got detention? I thought we'd specifically told the Trepie network to be on their best behavior today so that Instructor Trepe was free after class for our surprise!"
"That blond guy with the long coat, the one who's always making trouble?"
"The guy in charge of the DC!"
"Yeah!"
"What'd he do?"
"Uh..."
"...how bad was it?"
"...Look, all I know is that I heard something about him and a coat in a supply closet. When Instructor Trepe dragged him into her classroom, though, he didn't have any pants on."
Part 5: The Dry Cleaners.
"Remember, that coat is my one true love!" Seifer slapped his hands on the counter in an attempt to appear intimidating.
The person on the other side of the counter, to his credit, did not appear intimidated. "Yes, sir."
"And if there is even a single tear in Alice's fabric--"
"Alice, sir?"
"Yes, dammit!" Seifer's frustration was plain as day on his face. "Alice, the coat! Pay attention, Fred!"
"Sir, my name is Ados."
"I don't care if you're the Dread Pirate LionHeart! If Alice isn't returned to me in the exact same condition she's in now, you're going on the list!"
Ados, or Fred, merely sniffed. "Sir, you requested... Alice... to be dry cleaned. Her condition will be much nicer than she's in now. She'll also smell like lavender."
"So did your mother!" Seifer shot back.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Forget it. Forget it, forget it! I'll take my business elsewhere." Seifer's long handed attempt at reclaiming the quote from Ados-Fred's possession, however, gave Alice a long split down her worn seam.
The next day, Ados and Son Dry Cleaners was discovered to be little more than a pile of charred wreckage, smelling distinctly of lavender. The culprit was never found, but was believed to be this tall, blond man who was seen skulking around the premises and whispering sweetly to his coat collar.
Part 6: A Funeral
The light in the small Garden chapel was on.
Quistis paused. It was her night for patrols, and she'd already caught no less than seven couples in various areas of the TC (in various stages of undress), and she really didn't want to deal with anything else. She wanted a bowl of ice cream and her bed. She hated patrols. But the thought of two students, in various stages of undress, profaning the tiny chapel of Hyne that Garden kept - it was enough to make her stop, and sigh, and turn down the dark hallway.
It wasn't even really a chapel of Hyne - it was just a quiet place with an altar and some pews for religiously-minded students to sit down and think. There was a picture of Hyne, yes, but there was also a cross for the Cetran religion, and in the corner a small incense table for any of the traditional Trabians in the area. No matter what religion you were, there was a small peaceful spot in the chapel for you. And no matter what religion you were, there was no place for hanky-panky in such a small room.
Quistis rapped her knuckles on the door, sharply. "Excuse me?"
From inside came the sound of muffled sniffling.
It sounded male, Quistis thought, her heart sinking. Had someone died? There hadn't been any mission-related casualties in the past few weeks - they'd been lucky - and she hadn't received any of the Death In Family notices she usually did when students needed to be excused. Feeling a little less enraged, she gently pushed open the door.
A student sat crumpled before the altar of Hyne, sniffling into a long wrinkled piece of cloth.
"Hello?" Quistis said.
Seifer Almasy turned around. His face was red and splotchy, and his eyes were filled with manly tears he had not yet shed.
"Seifer?!"
Seifer turned away. "Go away, Instructor," he said, his voice sullen. "You won't understand."
"Seifer." Quistis took a step toward him, feeling nothing but sympathy. "Seifer, who was it?"
Seifer's head hung for a moment, and then he picked up the pile of fabric - which Quistis belatedly recognized as his trench coat - and held it up to her. One of the sleeves had been completely cut from the rest of the coat, and there was a long ugly hole in the front where it had been slashed through by a gunblade. Quistis assumed she knew whose gunblade it was.
"Wait." Her brain took a few steps back. "The coat?"
Seifer sniffled, and nodded, his eyes on the sad pile of fabric that had been his sleeve.
"Seifer." Now her voice was strict - because if she didn't try to do 'mean', she'd laugh. "Why don't you take that thing down to Custodial and have one of our seamstresses sew it back together?"
There was a long, drawn-out pause, and then Seifer was gone, and Quistis was left with the feeling that he'd whooped, and kissed her on the cheek before leaving.
Part 7: A wedding
Quistis blew into her hands, attempting almost uselessly to warm them. "Seifer--"
"Mr. Alice!" he interjected, his voice slurring over the words.
"Seifer," she reiterated between gritted teeth. "It's cold, you're drunk, and I refuse to be a party to this... craziness!" She paused, blowing into her hands yet again. "Can't you just pass out so I can drag your sorry ass home?"
"No! This is LOVE!" he shouted, swinging happily around the nearly frozen light post. "Alice and I will be together!" He pointed, rather clumsily, at Quistis. "Now read the script!"
Quistis groaned internally. She finally decided it would be easier just to acquiesce to his demands and then drag him home rather than fight the disease. "Dearly beloved snow, we are gathered in the icy shoals of Tromedia to bid these two in holy matrimony."
Seifer never looked happier. Alice just looked the same--tattered and tired.
Part 8: A Child
Even Raijin was laughing at him, for Hyne's sake. He thought Irvine and Selphie had been bad, but he hadn't seen Raijin laugh this hard in years.
Seifer crossed his arms and tried to look angry and mean. Raijin didn't stop, and normally stoic Fujin wasn't meeting his eyes.
"What?" he asked, finally, and the table of young cadet girls behind him burst into giggles.
"It's - hah-" Raijin finally caught his breath. "Seifer, man, what's with the hat?"
Seifer adjusted the canvas fedora so that it came down over his eyes like cool hats did in the movies. "It's a good hat. It goes with my trenchcoat."
"Yeah," Irvine said, "if you want to look like a comic book gangster."
"I'd shut up if I were you, Mister Imaginary Cowboy."
"Hey!" Irvine raised his hands to his hat. "I didn't say it was a bad thing, Seifer. I just didn't know you were into that kind of fad."
"It's not a fad!" Seifer leapt up from his seat, adjusting the hat again. "It goes with my coat!"
Selphie burst into amused giggles again, and Seifer stormed off. They'd never understand.
Part 9: A tryst
Seifer paced along the floor of the hotel room. He didn't get nervous often--in battle, he existed on pure adrenaline, and occasionally a bit too much rum. But this was unlike anything he had ever done before.
There was a knock at the door. Seifer stared at it for a long moment before opening it. "Hi."
The woman gave him a coolly appraising look, before walking past him into the room. She wore a long trench coat, a few sizes too big for her, with her hands holding on to the already tied belt.
She inspected the curtains, before turning to face Seifer. "You got the money?"
He pointed his chin at the small package on the rightmost bed. "Count it if you want."
Not moving from her spot, the woman stared at the package for a long moment, her lips pursed.
"It's fine," she finally said. She began to pull at the sash on her trench coat, before shrugging her shoulders out. Seifer sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what his role would be in this. The trench coat fell into a puddle of cloth at her feet, and he found himself breathing in sharply.
She was wearing a knee length black leather jacket, shiny from disuse.
"Well?" The woman--the jacket carrier, he corrected himself--quirked a brow in an impatient fashion.
Seifer never got the coat, for in the next moment, the door burst open and they were both arrested--for it turned out that the use of Estharian Marlboro hide in clothing was illegal. When he returned to Garden, a week later, his older coat was gone, but he could have sworn he saw Nida strutting down the cafeteria hallway in it.
Feel free to continue in comments. I am definitely on crack.
By mrsteninch and first_seventhe
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Seifer, Quistis, Coat
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: absolute crack
From here.
Part 1:
Trenchcoat, trenchcoat
Don't ever leave on a boat
I bought you will three gil
And never left you on a windowsill
I say this in truth
I'd prefer not to need a kissing booth
to gain your attention
Oh, please give me some love and affection
Part 2: haiku
Once upon a time
I had a romantic dream
It involved you, coat -
and the nasty things
I want to do to you. I
can't deny our love.
Rinoa? She means
nothing to me, love. You are
everything I need.
Part 3: Purple prose.... and ANGST!
"Coat!" Seifer bellowed, his lilypad-tinted orbs welling up with burning liquid dewdrops of his heart. "COOOOOAAAAT!"
A ghastly wind blew, drawing a shudder up his bone-like spine, and it seemed that the coat waved from its position on the angry lapis waves. Goodbye, it said, its buttons glinting with silver, worn shiny from the passion of his thousand tears. Goodbye.
"Goodbye, my friend," Seifer said, his heart welling up to twice its purported size with the wretched agony of his black, death-like sorrow.
Part 4: A Conversation Between Trepies
"Why isn't Instructor Trepe here?"
"She's in a detention today."
"Dammit all, who went and got detention? I thought we'd specifically told the Trepie network to be on their best behavior today so that Instructor Trepe was free after class for our surprise!"
"That blond guy with the long coat, the one who's always making trouble?"
"The guy in charge of the DC!"
"Yeah!"
"What'd he do?"
"Uh..."
"...how bad was it?"
"...Look, all I know is that I heard something about him and a coat in a supply closet. When Instructor Trepe dragged him into her classroom, though, he didn't have any pants on."
Part 5: The Dry Cleaners.
"Remember, that coat is my one true love!" Seifer slapped his hands on the counter in an attempt to appear intimidating.
The person on the other side of the counter, to his credit, did not appear intimidated. "Yes, sir."
"And if there is even a single tear in Alice's fabric--"
"Alice, sir?"
"Yes, dammit!" Seifer's frustration was plain as day on his face. "Alice, the coat! Pay attention, Fred!"
"Sir, my name is Ados."
"I don't care if you're the Dread Pirate LionHeart! If Alice isn't returned to me in the exact same condition she's in now, you're going on the list!"
Ados, or Fred, merely sniffed. "Sir, you requested... Alice... to be dry cleaned. Her condition will be much nicer than she's in now. She'll also smell like lavender."
"So did your mother!" Seifer shot back.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Forget it. Forget it, forget it! I'll take my business elsewhere." Seifer's long handed attempt at reclaiming the quote from Ados-Fred's possession, however, gave Alice a long split down her worn seam.
The next day, Ados and Son Dry Cleaners was discovered to be little more than a pile of charred wreckage, smelling distinctly of lavender. The culprit was never found, but was believed to be this tall, blond man who was seen skulking around the premises and whispering sweetly to his coat collar.
Part 6: A Funeral
The light in the small Garden chapel was on.
Quistis paused. It was her night for patrols, and she'd already caught no less than seven couples in various areas of the TC (in various stages of undress), and she really didn't want to deal with anything else. She wanted a bowl of ice cream and her bed. She hated patrols. But the thought of two students, in various stages of undress, profaning the tiny chapel of Hyne that Garden kept - it was enough to make her stop, and sigh, and turn down the dark hallway.
It wasn't even really a chapel of Hyne - it was just a quiet place with an altar and some pews for religiously-minded students to sit down and think. There was a picture of Hyne, yes, but there was also a cross for the Cetran religion, and in the corner a small incense table for any of the traditional Trabians in the area. No matter what religion you were, there was a small peaceful spot in the chapel for you. And no matter what religion you were, there was no place for hanky-panky in such a small room.
Quistis rapped her knuckles on the door, sharply. "Excuse me?"
From inside came the sound of muffled sniffling.
It sounded male, Quistis thought, her heart sinking. Had someone died? There hadn't been any mission-related casualties in the past few weeks - they'd been lucky - and she hadn't received any of the Death In Family notices she usually did when students needed to be excused. Feeling a little less enraged, she gently pushed open the door.
A student sat crumpled before the altar of Hyne, sniffling into a long wrinkled piece of cloth.
"Hello?" Quistis said.
Seifer Almasy turned around. His face was red and splotchy, and his eyes were filled with manly tears he had not yet shed.
"Seifer?!"
Seifer turned away. "Go away, Instructor," he said, his voice sullen. "You won't understand."
"Seifer." Quistis took a step toward him, feeling nothing but sympathy. "Seifer, who was it?"
Seifer's head hung for a moment, and then he picked up the pile of fabric - which Quistis belatedly recognized as his trench coat - and held it up to her. One of the sleeves had been completely cut from the rest of the coat, and there was a long ugly hole in the front where it had been slashed through by a gunblade. Quistis assumed she knew whose gunblade it was.
"Wait." Her brain took a few steps back. "The coat?"
Seifer sniffled, and nodded, his eyes on the sad pile of fabric that had been his sleeve.
"Seifer." Now her voice was strict - because if she didn't try to do 'mean', she'd laugh. "Why don't you take that thing down to Custodial and have one of our seamstresses sew it back together?"
There was a long, drawn-out pause, and then Seifer was gone, and Quistis was left with the feeling that he'd whooped, and kissed her on the cheek before leaving.
Part 7: A wedding
Quistis blew into her hands, attempting almost uselessly to warm them. "Seifer--"
"Mr. Alice!" he interjected, his voice slurring over the words.
"Seifer," she reiterated between gritted teeth. "It's cold, you're drunk, and I refuse to be a party to this... craziness!" She paused, blowing into her hands yet again. "Can't you just pass out so I can drag your sorry ass home?"
"No! This is LOVE!" he shouted, swinging happily around the nearly frozen light post. "Alice and I will be together!" He pointed, rather clumsily, at Quistis. "Now read the script!"
Quistis groaned internally. She finally decided it would be easier just to acquiesce to his demands and then drag him home rather than fight the disease. "Dearly beloved snow, we are gathered in the icy shoals of Tromedia to bid these two in holy matrimony."
Seifer never looked happier. Alice just looked the same--tattered and tired.
Part 8: A Child
Even Raijin was laughing at him, for Hyne's sake. He thought Irvine and Selphie had been bad, but he hadn't seen Raijin laugh this hard in years.
Seifer crossed his arms and tried to look angry and mean. Raijin didn't stop, and normally stoic Fujin wasn't meeting his eyes.
"What?" he asked, finally, and the table of young cadet girls behind him burst into giggles.
"It's - hah-" Raijin finally caught his breath. "Seifer, man, what's with the hat?"
Seifer adjusted the canvas fedora so that it came down over his eyes like cool hats did in the movies. "It's a good hat. It goes with my trenchcoat."
"Yeah," Irvine said, "if you want to look like a comic book gangster."
"I'd shut up if I were you, Mister Imaginary Cowboy."
"Hey!" Irvine raised his hands to his hat. "I didn't say it was a bad thing, Seifer. I just didn't know you were into that kind of fad."
"It's not a fad!" Seifer leapt up from his seat, adjusting the hat again. "It goes with my coat!"
Selphie burst into amused giggles again, and Seifer stormed off. They'd never understand.
Part 9: A tryst
Seifer paced along the floor of the hotel room. He didn't get nervous often--in battle, he existed on pure adrenaline, and occasionally a bit too much rum. But this was unlike anything he had ever done before.
There was a knock at the door. Seifer stared at it for a long moment before opening it. "Hi."
The woman gave him a coolly appraising look, before walking past him into the room. She wore a long trench coat, a few sizes too big for her, with her hands holding on to the already tied belt.
She inspected the curtains, before turning to face Seifer. "You got the money?"
He pointed his chin at the small package on the rightmost bed. "Count it if you want."
Not moving from her spot, the woman stared at the package for a long moment, her lips pursed.
"It's fine," she finally said. She began to pull at the sash on her trench coat, before shrugging her shoulders out. Seifer sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what his role would be in this. The trench coat fell into a puddle of cloth at her feet, and he found himself breathing in sharply.
She was wearing a knee length black leather jacket, shiny from disuse.
"Well?" The woman--the jacket carrier, he corrected himself--quirked a brow in an impatient fashion.
Seifer never got the coat, for in the next moment, the door burst open and they were both arrested--for it turned out that the use of Estharian Marlboro hide in clothing was illegal. When he returned to Garden, a week later, his older coat was gone, but he could have sworn he saw Nida strutting down the cafeteria hallway in it.
Feel free to continue in comments. I am definitely on crack.