- Joined
- Feb 7, 2009
(This is a roleplay based in the Final Fantasy VIII world, and is likely to incorporate a number of extreme fetishes.)
"Shut up."
Ignoring him. Grading tests? He'd give her something to grade... Smirking, or rather sneering to himself, Seifer tore a sheet of paper from his notebook and crumpled it up into a ball. The makeshift projectile left his hand, in search of the teacher.
"...I saaaiid... shut up," Seifer repeated, though Quistis, or 'Ms.Trepe' as the pompous bitch preferred, hadn't even said anything. It was fun to taunt her though, to poke and prod and see how close he could get her to losing it before she took a breath. She'd just been up there, keeping to herself. Keeping him here, when there was no goddamn reason to be.
So he and his 'welcoming committee' had taken it upon themselves to show that new girl around Balamb. So they'd convinced her that the boys locker room was really the girls locker room. So they'd tricked her into going inside and undressing just in time for the period to end, and in time for about fifteen sweaty guys to come in after practice, seeing her with who knows how little on. And so, when she cried for directions to the headmaster's office, they instead gave her directions to the training grounds. ...So what? It wasn't Seifer's fault she couldn't take a joke. Or take one of the T-Rexaurs by herself.
What a kid.
Yet he was getting shafted for it, and got nailed with a month of detention. How many days had it been now? ...forty-three minutes? Well, fuck.
Seifer tore and rolled up another paper ball into a gloved hand. To this one he added something a little extra, a wad of phlegm, tossing it halfway across the room in hopes for Quistis' head.
The foot on his desk, his chair on a tilt, helped with the arc of his throw. Snickering to himself, Seifer called out, "How 'bout you just let me the hell outta here? You hate me, and I sure as hell ain't a fan'a yours, blondie." The pompous bitch. She was like what, a year older than him? She wasn't some 'adult', at least not in the sense that it took to run a classroom. No one respected her. Maybe if he was a female he'd be able to blow the headmaster to get a promotion too. "Unless you're some masochistic cunt who gets off on me calling you names and throwing things at your head when I'm bored, and trust me, this ain't the most exciting thing I've ever had to be a part of, you can let me just leave now and we'll both be happy."
"Look, I'll even lay low for awhile."
A lie.
"No one even has to know I'm out. I'll go catch a flick, or sit in my dorm and read some gunblade magazine or somethin'."
Or find that brunette bitch and torment her further for not being able to take a joke in the first place.
"How 'bout we just call things where they are? I mean, shit. Feels like a month already to me..."
"Shut up."
Ignoring him. Grading tests? He'd give her something to grade... Smirking, or rather sneering to himself, Seifer tore a sheet of paper from his notebook and crumpled it up into a ball. The makeshift projectile left his hand, in search of the teacher.
"...I saaaiid... shut up," Seifer repeated, though Quistis, or 'Ms.Trepe' as the pompous bitch preferred, hadn't even said anything. It was fun to taunt her though, to poke and prod and see how close he could get her to losing it before she took a breath. She'd just been up there, keeping to herself. Keeping him here, when there was no goddamn reason to be.
So he and his 'welcoming committee' had taken it upon themselves to show that new girl around Balamb. So they'd convinced her that the boys locker room was really the girls locker room. So they'd tricked her into going inside and undressing just in time for the period to end, and in time for about fifteen sweaty guys to come in after practice, seeing her with who knows how little on. And so, when she cried for directions to the headmaster's office, they instead gave her directions to the training grounds. ...So what? It wasn't Seifer's fault she couldn't take a joke. Or take one of the T-Rexaurs by herself.
What a kid.
Yet he was getting shafted for it, and got nailed with a month of detention. How many days had it been now? ...forty-three minutes? Well, fuck.
Seifer tore and rolled up another paper ball into a gloved hand. To this one he added something a little extra, a wad of phlegm, tossing it halfway across the room in hopes for Quistis' head.
The foot on his desk, his chair on a tilt, helped with the arc of his throw. Snickering to himself, Seifer called out, "How 'bout you just let me the hell outta here? You hate me, and I sure as hell ain't a fan'a yours, blondie." The pompous bitch. She was like what, a year older than him? She wasn't some 'adult', at least not in the sense that it took to run a classroom. No one respected her. Maybe if he was a female he'd be able to blow the headmaster to get a promotion too. "Unless you're some masochistic cunt who gets off on me calling you names and throwing things at your head when I'm bored, and trust me, this ain't the most exciting thing I've ever had to be a part of, you can let me just leave now and we'll both be happy."
"Look, I'll even lay low for awhile."
A lie.
"No one even has to know I'm out. I'll go catch a flick, or sit in my dorm and read some gunblade magazine or somethin'."
Or find that brunette bitch and torment her further for not being able to take a joke in the first place.
"How 'bout we just call things where they are? I mean, shit. Feels like a month already to me..."