A/N: Warmest salutations, all! These next two pieces are dedicated to sissyHIYAH. :] Not only are all of her stories excellent reads and highly hilarious, but her reviews of my own work are always awesome. I recommend that you check out her stuff!
Also, I do apologize for being completely MIA as of late (if anyone has noticed, hahaha). I'm actually doing writing that I'm getting PAID for now! Who knew? The consequence of such work, however, is that fanfiction does tend to get put on the back burner more often than not. Sad times. However, please read and review! I do so love checking in and seeing feedback - makes my heart all warm and fuzzy. Woo!

Inspiration: Romance Novels

Fury Caraway once dated a woman who read nothing but smut novels. At first, he found her hobby to be quite funny - while he perused newspapers and stacks of reports pertaining to Galbadia's welfare, she lost herself in tales of bated breath and quivering loins. It wasn't until she left the general for a muscle-bound cabana boy with an exotic accent that Fury ceased to laugh at her once endearing quirk.

Opposites attract, but they seldom stick it out over the long haul.

The night he met Quistis Trepe at the SeeD ball, however, his brain went completely limp. All he managed to conjure up in his imagination were phrases and scenes worthy of the next tawdry bestseller - Hyne, if only he'd been sitting in front of a typewriter! Had he been born a wordsmith instead of a military man, picturing Quistis in a corset torn to shreds in a lust-driven frenzy wouldn't have been so…

"Good evening, General Caraway! I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

…out of character.

He needed another glass of merlot, post-haste. Visions of himself and the fetching blonde soaring through the cosmos on a cloud propelled by erotic euphoria would pester him for the remainder of the evening. Even so, at that moment he would've gladly surrendered half of Galbadia for a youthful physique and long locks.

Of course, Fury would never have admitted to reading the novels. He only peeked at the covers to see what the fuss was about.

Inspiration: Jealousy

Sometimes, Rinoa hated Quistis with such vehemence that the very emotion threatened to burn a hole in the pit of her stomach.

Did she still consider the instructor her best friend? Well…maybe. But why did Quistis have to walk with such an elegant flounce? Why'd she insist upon raising her eyebrows and widening her facial expressions when speaking to someone? Rinoa always suspected she was only feigning interest. Secretly, the sorceress loathed when Quistis gave her the "do go on" face while crossing her arms; it seemed so bloody patronizing.

At the end of the day, it mattered not that the raven-haired girl was more adept magically - she still crashed into chairs that hadn't been pushed in and stumbled over the words Firaga and Esthar. Quistis knew histories and cultures and could play Triple Triad. She could smile with her eyes and speak volumes without uttering a syllable.

It was the difference between a clumsy witch-girl and a statuesque, intelligent woman. Rinoa envied such effortless grace, wondering why she could do nothing to emulate it.

What annoyed her the most, though, was that Quistis was Commander Leonhart's walking notepad. His one-woman intelligentsia. Rinoa could warm his bed from now until the next Sorceress War, knowing that Squall only spoke to her in fragments, filling in the holes with mindless prattle that he thought would entertain her.

Oh, she was jealous of Quistis - but most of all, Rinoa was angry at herself for all she could not change.