Challenge Blogging!

[seventhe]

(1) Fashion, or lack thereof, in FF8

Squall: Okay, for somebody who is a "lone wolf" and doesn't care about other people or "what other people think", Squall pays way too much attention to how he looks. Jacket with fur? Unless by 'lone wolf' you actually meant 'I want people to mistake me for a Lobo,' you fail. And leather. Dude, leather is hot and also is not really a fabric that people ignore. Leather does not say 'Leave me the fuck alone,' it says 'I am an emo loser who shops at Hot Topic, pay attention to me!'. The belts I just do not understand, but I really want to write a "Squall gets dressed in the morning" fanfiction and give some sort of existential emo meaning to his belt collection. "These belts represent my loneliness and despair," Squall thought as a single crystal emo tear slid down his porcelain face.

Rinoa: Blue duster = cute, and I want. Skirt over leggings = BLECH. So, I guess her outfit is a tie. Needs more crazy sorceress though.

Zell: In searching for Zell's outfit I found this, which is sadly funny:

but doesn't say anything about his actual fashion sense. I liked Zell's shorts because he just looked like a normal dude in shorts rather than some existentialist emomuffin, but I never really knew WTF was up with the little vest.

Quistis: Since I think Quistis is made of sex, I'm openly prejudiced, and thus I omit this one.

Selphie: At least Selphie's outfit makes sense. It's a dress you could buy in a store. It's normal. It has no belts. However, it's a really stupid thing for someone like her to wear. How does she fight? How does she not freeze?

Irvine: Okay, as much as I'm in love with Irvine and everything he embodies, his fashion sense is pretty much terrible. I like cowboys and cowboy hats, but? Jacket with wonky fur? Purple vest? Chaps? Sorry, Irvine, my darling, but you fail.

Seifer: Alright, look, fandom, can you stop mentioning Seifer's trench coat in every single fucking fic where Seifer appears, ever? I would really like to see a piece of fanfiction in which Seifer's trenchcoat DOESN'T have some kind of existentialist meaning tying into his gunblade / limit break / romantic dream / love of puppies. Seriously. How about a fic where he picked up the coat before he left Garden because it was raining, or some shit? Good lord it's just a coat people. It's not like he ever makes love to the coat in the game. Unless there's a cut scene where Zell walks in on Seifer humping the coat in a classroom or something. >.> fic plz?

Edea: Edea is also made of sex. Next.

Cid: Did you know that in one of the episodes of Beauty and the Geek (which obviously I do not watch, ever) one of the geeks collects sweater vests? Like, that's his defining characteristic as a geek, that he collects sweater vests. I kind of want to know what part of that made him a geek: the fact that sweater vests are geeky, or that he collects something. Because a lot of girls collect pieces of clothing, or shoes, and that's not really geeky. It must be that sweater vests are inherently geek? Trufax!

Laguna: Laguna seems to have excellent fashion sense. Maybe the belt thing came from Raine?

- - -

(2) defecating goats in space

"No!" the shepherd cried. "Don't leave me!" He pressed his face to the glass of the shuttle, trying desperately for one last glimpse of his beloved.

Inside, the goat bleated and shook its head sadly.

"No!" the shepherd cried, beating on the window - but it was to no avail. The magical engine inside the spaceship began to heat up as the steaming pile of goat feces was converted into pure energy. The hot wave of air forced the shepherd back a few steps, and as the magical goat ship slowly took off, a single crystal emo tear slid down the shepherd's dirty face as he stood alone in his empty field.

- - -

(3) Shoes. XD And fashionista pictures.

Hmm. I will save the pictures for later, since I am (a) at work without a camera and (b) wearing pants with terrible hexane stains on the thighs. Ugh. A fashionista iz not me, today.

My general feelings on shoes: shoes were my bane, up until this year, when I have finally started to take an almost unhealthy interest in them. I bought shoes that were (a) cheap; (b) boring, aka they went with everything; (c) relatively comfortable, at least in the store; and (d) cheap. This resulted in me having a lot of shoes which turned out to be uncomfortable because they were cheaply made. It also resulted in me having a lot of shoes I don't wear. And the shoes that I DO wear, I wear a lot, and thus are falling apart.

Now that I am (relatively) wealthy, I have realized that it is worth spending good money on a good pair of shoes if I am sure they are what I want and they will be comfortable and functional for me. (This is my new attitude with my entire wardrobe, really.) I still flail a little at getting shoes for $30 or under, but I'm trying to focus more on what I *want* and what I *need* as a professional twenty-something closer to thirty, jesus fuck with a decent wardrobe.

My old trend in shoes was to stay away from anything overtly girly. As I get older I am more and more willing to embrace my "girly" side, or at least to acknowledge that not all things "girly" are some kind of anathema poisonous terrible thing to be shat upon by goats at every available opportunity. I will never be a girly person but, I'll admit it, I am starting to like heels. ;)

Some very random discussion points on shoes:
- Sneakers are comfy, but so undressy. I am not a fan of the look of jeans and white sneakers on girls. I don't know, it just ruins it for me or something. Darker sneakers are okay, or cute colored ones. I need to obtain a brown pair of sneaker-like shoes for comfy days. Comfortable AND fashionable! That's me.
- I am not sure whether I like the super-small, loafer-type shoes yet. I know they come in a lot of cute little patterns, but I still think a lot of them are silly-looking. At least on me. Smaller girls can do it, I put them on and feel like a robotard. I would like them better a little bit bigger, with some heel to it.
- I don't understand very high heels. Seriously, how do women walk in heels more than 1-2"? I actually find a small heel more comfortable than a flat, but anything larger than that is just... UGH. And yet I see women everywhere in 3-4" heels. How do they do it?
- Speaking of heels, I don't understand PANTS. I am not SHORT. There is NO reason that all of my pants should drag on the ground. Heels, I blame you!
- Gladiator-style shoes are in this season. I think they are all pretty fucking ugly. Le sigh.
- I love boots. They can make (almost) any outfit. However, they don't work in the summer. Sadface.
- I really wish I liked clogs. I just don't. I can't walk in them. They're supposed to be really easy and comfy, but I just can't make them work, for some reason.
- Undecided on the Pointy Toe Look. I really hated it when it first came out, but now I have seen a couple pairs on girls at the mall that I really like. I just don't think I'm a Pointy Toe Girl.
- Shoes I still need to get: some brightly-colored sandals or heels to wear with otherwise boring outfits. Something like bright red heels with blue jeans. I also need at least 1 pair of comfy-ish black shoes.

More later, also with pictures!

- - -

(4) the state of viscosity in a jar of mayonnaise as opposed to that of ketchup.

Mayo is gross!

To extend this entry a little more: when it comes to standard condiments, I like ketchup > relish >>>> mayo and mustard (both are blech). "So what do you put on your sammiches, Sev?" you may ask. The answer is either (a) nothing or (b) Italian dressing.

- - -

(5) how awesome your girlfriend is and how much you don't want her to drown in the flood!

OKAY SO NOW I WANT TO WRITE THIS FIC IN WHICH RYDIA IS TRAPPED IN A FLOOD BECAUSE IOWA SUCKS A MAJOR DICK, AND QUISTIS COMES ALONG AND CASTS FLOAT ON HER AND RYDIA GETS SAVED AND THEY BOTH, I DON'T KNOW, GO SAVE A BUNCH OF PUPPIES AND KITTIES FROM DROWNING, AND THEN THEY MAKE OUT WHILE CASTING LOW-LEVEL FIRE MAGIC TO KEEP EACH OTHER WARM

AND IT WOULDN'T BE A SELF-INSERT AT ALL I SWEAR


- - -

(6) Air guitar: totally badass or beyond lame?

You do realize you are directing this question at a girl who has been in a selection of terrible rock bands?

Air guitar: pretty much ALWAYS badass. C'mon. I do it. You do it. We all do it in private.

However, circumstances DO matter. Air guitar at work? ...well, actually, I just saw two of my co-workers singing and air-guitar-ing at each other this very morning. However my particular place of employment may be an anomaly.

Comments

[churched.livejournal.com]

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.

[first-seventhe.livejournal.com]

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."

[churched.livejournal.com]

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.

[first-seventhe.livejournal.com]

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.

[churched.livejournal.com]

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.

[first-seventhe.livejournal.com]

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.

[churched.livejournal.com]

(Do you think we should go beyond nine parts?)

[first-seventhe.livejournal.com]

(It doesn't really matter to me! I am, however, posting this, because it is an act of sheer brilliance.)

[churched.livejournal.com]

(Oooh, posting it where?)

[first-seventhe.livejournal.com]

brokenprism, under the tag "Fic: absolute crack".

[churched.livejournal.com]

Nice! I approve.

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.