This Isn’t Enough // Seifer & Quistis



"Nevermind, Seifer. I’ll take care of things. Just go…watch a movie or something." She watched the water rising in the tub and waved him off with the flick of her hand. 

Even if he understood the extent and reasoning of her frustration with him, she doubted he would take the time to try and change things in a proactive way. He was stubborn—as was she, though she had trouble admitting so—but he was used to defying authority to get what he wanted. She was used to being that authority.


He stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Something is pissing you off, and since it’s clearly about me, I think I deserve to know what it is.” 

posted April 23rd via with 8 notes -


Shockwave Pulsar

— (ショックウェーブパルサー, Shokkuwēbu Parusā) is Quistis’s ultimate Blue Magic spell in Final Fantasy VIII. The spell shows orbs lifting all enemies into a cloud covered sky and a giant explosion engulfing them all, dealing critical damage that may exceed the 9,999 limit. One of the final bosses, Griever, uses Shockwave Pulsar as its greatest attack.

uistis  repe

♔ Multi-verse | Multi-ship | Multi-fandom friendly
♔ Ten years total roleplay experience
♔ Can be selective with partners
♔ OC friendly
♔ One-line | Para | Novella friendly
♔ AU friendly
♔ Ask is always open
♔ I have Skype! (And am open to roleplays there, just ask)
♔ Mun is over 18
♔ Ask me for my other FFVIII blogs! I have plenty!


posted April 23rd via with 16 notes -

This Isn’t Enough // Seifer & Quistis



"You didn’t, is the problem.” I don’t want to get into this right now. I just want a bath. Shut up. SHUT UPUnfortunately keeping her mouth shut was never a strong point of hers. “You haven’t done anything.” Meanwhile I’m doing all the sacrificing to make amends.

She tried to distract herself with adjusting the temperature of the water, fingers resting underneath the steady stream, only leaving for moments to turn the knob a little more. Her fingertips were turning pink from the heat.

He thought back for a minute, trying to figure out if there’d been anything in their brief conversations over the past few days that he’d missed, something vital. 

Seifer came up blank. 

"—What are you talking about?” 

posted April 23rd via with 8 notes -

IF WE’VE NEVER RP’D TOGETHER send me a simple starter:



"You look a little lost. Do you need directions?"
"That’s an awesome outfit."
"How’s the chicken? I can’t decide whether to order it or not."
"Excuse me, I think you dropped this."
"I don’t know a single person here…"


"Wow, I’ve never seen an angel before…"
"You’re the hottest person in this place."
"I saw that. You just checked me out."
"Hey, can I get your number?"
*wolf whistle*


"You’re in my seat."
"What are you staring at?"
"You just stepped on my toe!"
"Who do you think you are?"
"Keep it down, will you?"


"Get down - he’s got a gun!"
"Help, I need medical attention!"
"Just kill me now!"
"I need a ride! Please!"
"Are you crazy? It’s too dangerous!"

posted April 23rd via source with 448 notes -

                                      ————-those who are damaged are the most ; ; ;

             {          D A N G E R O U S          }

                they k n o w how to [[ survive ]]

posted April 23rd via with 2,137 notes -


posted April 23rd with 0 notes -

firaequis said: Pencil symbol


Put a ✎ in my inbox to see my muse’s search history!

Paracord bullwhip plaiting techniques

posted April 23rd via with 3 notes -

This Isn’t Enough // Seifer & Quistis



She had been counting on avoiding him altogether, at least for the moment, but it became apparent that she was unable to have a moment’s reprieve. Just a little while to soothe her thoughts and relax her muscles in a hot bath was all she wanted. 

"Oh yes, Seifer, I’m completely peachy,” she spat, keeping her eyes off of him as she darted into the bathroom, clothes flying from the door and onto the carpet. “Thank you for asking. I was beginning to wonder if you had a compassionate bone in your body.”

She attempted to remove the clip from her hair, but the force caused some strands to catch in the metal hinge. Swearing quietly to herself, she struggled to remove it, the event only fueling her anger. Eventually, it was ripped from her head, just a couple small pieces of hair along with it. Nothing more than what would normally catch in her hairbrush. 


Shitty day at work, come home, take it out on him, and he hadn’t even done anything. 

That he was aware of, at least. 

He sidestepped the clip that she flung out of the bathroom. It probably qualified as a weapon in her hands, anyway. 

"Okay, what the hell did I do?” 

posted April 23rd via with 8 notes -


         Only the wish to restore goodness to the world is to cherish the world.

 (i) roleplay blog for larsa ferrinas solidor from ffxii
(ii) plays post revenant wings; willing to play at any point
(iii) eight years of writing experience overall
(iv) writes one-liners, para and multi-para
(v) admin is of age, but likelihood of nsfw is scant
(vi) interpretation attempts canon elements
(vii) welcomes all genres
(viii) welcomes original characters
(ix) multi-verse friendly, single-ship  

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posted April 23rd via source with 9 notes -


Flintlock knife pistol, maker and origin unknown, 18th century.

Sold at Auction: $1,900

posted April 23rd via with 80 notes -



Quietly, she nodded. Maybe she couldn’t avoid asking personal questions anymore. She was at a crossroad: ask him and know him better at the risk of getting even more attached to him or simply comfort him and wonder if he wound ever get that mad to her until she felt nothing for him.

Despite how dirty he was from working on a car, she slowly reached for his hand and even more carefully, she closed the distance between them. She would have kissed him if she was sure that her getting close to him would be welcomed but after such a display of anger, she simply settled at standing close, their bodies almost touching and their lips barely brushing.

"Alright… But I need to understand."

She had chosen her path.

He stilled as she got close to him, trying not to move, trying not to breathe too fast or flinch or do anything that would incite fear, incite more of that look in her eyes, the one that said, what’s wrong with you? 

She came close; he closed the distance. The bridge of his nose against her forehead, fingers tangled lightly in hers. He exhaled another breath of dying anger, banked like embers in his chest, feeling the tightness in his jaw. 

It took a long time before he was something close to calm, and he drew back from her enough to kiss her forehead. “I don’t really wanna broadcast it to the neighbors,” he said unnecessarily, the wrench and the rattled cans and the dented, warped metal a testament to how messed up he was. 

It took a minute, to clean up, to throw the car in reverse and back it up into the garage all the way— the hood had suffered the only damage, and that was cosmetic all the way through, it seemed. 

He closed the sliding door, and took her hand again, leading her back in the direction of his apartment. 

posted April 23rd via source with 18 notes -

all things broken




This might not have been an ‘I told you so’ moment, the man’s rage stemmed into something far more deep. He didn’t have a need to draw that out either. Stepping closer, he’d met the man by chance while working on his own mode of transportation.

He’d picked up quite a bit regardless, the pair on equal footing in some cases. The man knew more about cars surely, but he knew more about motorcycles. Patting his shoulder it was a way to try and lure him away from the object of his agitation. Even stepping in front of him a second blocked the vehicle from view.

"How about—we get ourselves a drink and take a seat on the couch?"

Encouraging the other, it was a simple offer and something his new ‘friend’ could hopefully distract himself with.

"Considering you sufficiently killed your car."

Only inserting a touch of sarcasm, it was to appease the man’s nature. He could have easily been on the receiving end of such a treatment. But in that sense, his nature was shown as well. Leaving the other to his anger certainly wasn’t an option, even if he himself had his ‘moments’.

Cloud was lucky as hell the wrench was on the other side of the garage at this point, because otherwise, a second swing would’ve probably put it through his face. 

"Didn’t kill the car, just a hundred bucks’ worth of scrap metal,” he spat vehemently. 

The idea of a drink had merits, though; he stalked off to the tiny little minifridge crammed in the corner of the garage, pulled a beer out of it, and yanked off the top without bothering to look around for an opener. He bent the lid in half in his palm and pitched it off into the trashcan. 

"I oughta run the junkyard guy over with the damn thing." 

posted April 23rd via source with 18 notes -

Revolutionary: Man, I was hoping to get replies done this morning, but Verizon is coming to switch over our everything (DEPENDABLE INTERNET OMG), so I had to clean, plus there are some errands before work. I have everything I could find from last night/this morning drafted, so expect reply spam tonight!

posted April 23rd with 3 notes -

posted April 23rd via source with 1,123 notes -



She wanted to run and never come back or see him again. But there was something keeping her there standing in the garage despite the scene she just witnessed. And it wasn’t fear.

Her eyes inspected his body language thoroughly. She searched for a lie. A twitch. A glance. A tic. Anything that could betray his apology and reveal it was fake. That act, more than once, saved her life during deals or meetings with people who were planning to back stab her or her boss at the end of the negotiations.

She saw nothing.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You were not angry at me, weren’t you?" She whispered, her tone slightly warmer than before and then, she finally dropped her gaze. "Do you want me to leave?"

It hurt to ask him this but she kept her mask on. 

"No…  the car," he explained, and it sounded lame even as it left his mouth. All this over a goddamned misaligned hood. 

He’d been damn good at keeping this buried, at not letting Fran see what fucked-up parts of him had come back from the war and made up who he was now. 

He’d scared her. 

"Stay," Seifer found himself saying, when he should have said no, let her go, walk out of his life for good— because he had no doubts that if he had said no, there would be no chance of her coming back. “Please, Fran, I—” 

posted April 22nd via source with 18 notes -